#angst obey me

[potol0ver]

Ok I swear I’m a masochist but yall are weird to so I need to know.

Do yall also just think about one of our boys being madly in love with MC/us but it’ll never work out because they’re immortal and we’re not so it’ll end up in one of a couple ways.

1. They get together and live happily until MC dies, leaving our date-able of choice unable to find another love for the rest of their immortal life because they’re to devoted.

2. Not getting into a relationship in a desperate attempt to get the date-able of our choice to find another immortal that’s just like us. Leaving MC and the immortal in a secret forbidden love type of situation.

Or 3. The date-able of choice for us is so hell bent on trying to make us immortal to that they spend the rest of our life trying to figure it out. By the time they do it’s already to late

[aerisssblog]

I never blamed you (Raphael x MC)

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Tags : SFW, Raphael x gnreader , heartwarming, fluffy, angst

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In the days that followed, your connection with Raphael continued to strengthen, breaking through the initial barriers he had put up. You both shared more of your lives, going to RAD together, enjoying quiet lunches at Lament Café, and spending late nights in the library working on reports as just the two of you.

One day, Raphael extended a surprising invitation. His words were soft but held a certain warmth as he asked, "Would you like to visit the Celestial Realm and have tea with Michael? It's a rare opportunity." You readily accepted, intrigued by the prospect of exploring Raphael's home realm.

Stepping into the Celestial Realm was like entering another world. The air was filled with an otherworldly serenity, and the beauty that surrounded you left you breathless. Sitting at a table with Raphael and Michael, sipping celestial tea, you felt both honored and out of place.

But the calm didn't last long. Raphael and Michael suddenly had to leave, mentioning something important in the main hall. They left you alone with your thoughts and asked you to wait here.

As you waited, a woman angel appeared before you, her ethereal presence commanding attention. She looked at you with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. "Oh, you are the human everyone is talking about," she began, her tone condescending. "You've gotten close to us, angels, haven't you? Do you truly believe you belong here?"

You attempted to stand your ground, though your heart raced, and your voice wavered. The angel continued, her smirk deepening. "How dare a mere human like you get close to us, cause trouble, and bring guilt upon us all? Because of you, Simeon lost his angelic power and became human. Do you intend to do the same to Raphael?"

You were left speechless, the weight of her words pressing down on you like a heavy stone. She delivered a final warning before departing, leaving you feeling utterly overwhelmed.

When Raphael returned, he immediately noticed the change in your expression. Concern filled his eyes as he asked what had transpired. You summoned a forced smile and brushed it off, claiming nothing was amiss. But he was persistent, sensing something amiss.

However, you were determined to shield him from the unsettling encounter. "I'm just tired," you said, your voice trembling with a false cheerfulness. "I think I'd like to head back now."

Raphael nodded, agreeing to escort you back to the House of Lamentation. He mentioned that he needed to return to the Celestial Realm. The journey back was filled with a heavy silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts.

At the doorstep of the House of Lamentation, you bid each other goodbye, and you watched as Raphael disappeared into the celestial light, likely returning to his realm. As he vanished from your sight, a sinking feeling gripped your heart, and the angel's accusations resurfaced in your mind.

Rushing to your room, you ignored Mammon, who passed by, and locked the door behind you. Alone, you allowed your tears to flow freely. For thirty agonizing minutes, you cried and contemplated the gravity of the angel's words.

Then, with newfound determination, you rose to your feet. You made a solemn promise to yourself that you would not repeat the same mistakes, that you would not let your presence bring harm to Raphael.

You managed to change your daily routine, carefully ensuring that you didn't come too close to Raphael or the trio of Luke, Simeon, and Solomon. It became a practiced routine for you, walking to RAD early with Satan, having lunch breaks with the twins, and intentionally avoiding getting too close to Raphael during classes.

As soon as the class bell signaled the end of the day, you swiftly packed your things and hurried out before Raphael could catch up to you. But it wasn't just Raphael you were avoiding; you had distanced yourself from Simeon, Luke, and Solomon as well, fearing that your presence might be a burden to them.

You ignored their messages and calls, pretending to be busy when Lucifer questioned why you hadn't been responding to Raphael and the others. This had become your life for nearly a month, and you started used to it.

One day, lost in your thoughts, you were descending the grand staircase of the House of Lamentation. It was then that you collided with Solomon, causing a flurry of papers to scatter and a small cloud of dust to fill the air. Solomon's eyes locked onto yours, and he greeted you with an innocent smile, his voice as smooth as ever. It appeared he had just come out from Asmo's room.

Solomon: "My apologies, MC. Are you alright?"

You forced a polite smile, though your heart raced beneath your facade.

MC: "I'm fine, Solomon. Just a bit distracted today."

Solomon's curiosity glinted in his eyes, but he didn't press further.

Solomon: "Ah, I see. Well, we all have our off days. How have you been otherwise?"

MC: "Oh, you know, the usual student council work keeping me busy. But it's nothing I can't handle."

Solomon's smile remained, though there was a hint of understanding in his gaze. Solomon explained that he was on his way to Cocytus Hall, his room in Purgatory Hall no longer sufficient for his latest experiment. He leaned in and asked for your assistance, his eyes pleading.

Caught between your desire to keep your distance and your deep respect for your teacher, you hesitated briefly. However, you ultimately agreed, realizing that the issues you were avoiding had nothing to do with Solomon, and it would be impolite to decline his request.

The two of you made your way to Cocytus Hall, and as you walked, conversation flowed naturally between you. Solomon described his latest magical experiment with enthusiasm, and you listened attentively.

But as you arrived at the entrance to Cocytus Hall, Solomon suddenly stopped and frowned, admitting that he had left something important in his room. He turned to you with hope and apology in his eyes, asking for your help once more.

Your hesitation resurfaced, but you found it difficult to deny his earnest request. With a sigh, you agreed to go to Purgatory Hall, setting aside your self-imposed isolation for the sake of assisting your teacher.

Solomon said he would wait for you at Cocytus Hall to finish other tasks. Now, you were standing in front of Purgatory Hall. Before you could even knock, Luke appeared, his eyes widening in surprise. Without hesitation, he enveloped you in a tight hug.

"Why do you keep turning down my offers to bake with you, MC? I've missed you so much!" Luke exclaimed, holding you even tighter.

You smiled gently and returned his hug, bending down slightly to stroke his head. "I'm sorry, Luke. I've been quite busy lately."

Simeon and Raphael suddenly appeared behind Luke. You avoided making eye contact with Raphael and offered an awkward smile to Simeon. "Solomon asked me to get something from his room. Is that alright?"

Simeon's response was soft and welcoming. "Of course, MC. You're always welcome here."

“MC, did something-“. Before Simeon could finish his sentence, you cut him off, explaining that you needed to get the items Solomon had asked for immediately and that you would talk later. With that, you rushed into Solomon's room, closing the door behind you.

Inside, you let out a sigh of relief. "That was a bit too close." Shaking your head a few times, you walked over to the shelf where the items Solomon needed were placed, but they were just out of reach. You spotted a nearby ladder and carefully climbed it, reaching for the jars on the high shelf. A triumphant smile lit up your face as you successfully retrieved them. "That's it!"

However, as you attempted to get down , you found yourself stepping into thin air and beginning to fall. Panic seized you, and your eyes snapped shut reflexively. But just as quickly, you felt a firm and gentle hand securely cradling you in a bridal-style hold.

When you opened your eyes, you found Raphael staring at you with his usual stoic expression, his arms supporting you effortlessly. You were initially shocked to see Raphael's sudden presence, but you managed a light smile and thanked him, "Th...thank you."

However, instead of letting go, Raphael held you even closer to his chest, his face buried in your shoulder. Your heart jolted at his unexpected action, and you gently pushed him away, saying, "Umm... Raphael, I need to go to Solomon. He needs me to-"

Raphael's response caught you off guard as his embrace tightened, and he asked, "How about me?" Confusion laced your voice as you replied, "Pardon?" You couldn't help but be confused by his question.

Raphael finally met your gaze, his expression remaining stoic, but his eyes seemed to plead with you. “I need you too��.

You were left speechless, unsure of how to react, and ended up looking away, avoiding eye contact with him.

Raphael sighed, still holding you tightly, and without letting go, he began to walk out of Solomon's room and toward his own. Your hand gripped his shoulder, and you implored, "Wait, Raphael. I really need to go now. Solomon asked me to help him."

"He did not," Raphael replied calmly, causing you to become even more confused. "I'm the one who asked him to make excuses to send you here."

The shock of the truth left you struggling to free yourself from Raphael's embrace. "Let me go! Hey, Raphael!"

However, your struggles has no effect to Raphael, closing the door behind him and placing you on his bed. You attempted to get up, but Raphael was faster. He trapped you between his body and the mattress, both of his hands on either side of your head, and his gaze locked onto your eyes.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "You didn't answer my calls or reply to my texts. You even look away when I glance at you. Did I do something wrong? What happened? You've been like this since we returned from the Celestial Realm. Did any angels bother you back then?"

Your heart sank as you recalled the words of the woman angel. You looked away, trying to hold back your tears. After a few moments, you felt Raphael bury his face in your neck, and your heart raced.

"I miss you," he confessed softly, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "I miss you so much. The moment you started to look away from me, I wanted to grab your hand and pull you into my embrace. You're really out of your mind, asking me to let you go when I already have you in my arms."

Your heart pounded, and you flinched slightly as you felt Raphael place a gentle kiss on your neck, followed by a soft bite. You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions and desires, unsure of what to say or do next.

As Raphael continued to place gentle kisses on your neck, his murmurs expressing his hurt at your avoidance, he also kept apologizing and repeating, "I miss you," a few times. His embrace tightened, and you could feel a slight tremble in his body, which filled you with guilt. You hadn't realized how much your actions had impacted him. All you had wanted to do was protect him, but it seemed you had only caused him pain.

Slowly, you started to stroke his hair, offering reassurance. "You did nothing wrong. It's me. I'm the one at fault. I couldn't bear the guilt for what happened to Simeon, and I was afraid the same thing would happen to you. I'm so sorry."

Suddenly, tears were flowing down your cheeks, and Raphael was taken aback by your tears. He gently wiped them away with his hand, his expression softening. "I see, so someone has been mean to you."

You looked into his eyes, surprised that he can catch the situation even though you hadn't mentioned anything. It was one of the reasons you were always drawn to him. Your tears continued to flow, and you began to sob.

Raphael lifted you up, placing you on his lap while still holding you close. His hand gently stroked your back as he kissed your hair. "It's okay. I'm sorry; I didn't know something like this had happened. I never blamed you for what happened to Simeon, and neither did he. I don't care what happens to me. I've already lived long enough, so I don't mind becoming an ordinary human, as long as I don't lose you or the brothers. So please…"

He kissed your eyelids and eyebrows tenderly. "Don't avoid me like that again. It hurts me so much when you ignore me."

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of both Raphael's lips and his words. The two of you stayed like that for a long time, making up for the lost time you had spent apart, finding comfort in each other's presence once more.

[books-and-catears]

MC: Solomon...I- I thought you were on my side. I thought we were supposed to protect each other no matter what...

Solomon: I'm sorry MC, but all I ever wanted from you was your powers. And now that I have them I have... no use for...for...

Solomon: *distressed and shaking his head* No I can't do this. I simply can't do this. I'm sorry MC. *hugs them tight*

MC: Solomon it's just acting it's okay. We are just acting-

Solomon: Even at my absolute worst, I cannot even imagine saying such a thing to you, MC! I forfeit this ridiculous dare.

Mammon: Hah! And you all made fun of me for crying!

Lucifer: *on his sixth glass of demonus* It was a foolish dare to begin with.

Levi: *curled up in a ball and shaking with misery*

Satan: *busy punching an already cracked wall*

Asmo: *mascara running down his cheeks*

Beel and Belphie: *jointly hugging a pink sheep pillow tight, looking miserable*

Luke: Wow good thing Simeon and I didn't participate...poor Solomon was practically forced into it too

Simeon: Indeed just watching everyone try and act out such a sad scenario was heartbreaking on its own.

Diavolo: Barbatos, my heart feels rather heavy. I feel like begging for forgiveness from MC on my knees.

Barbatos: I understand how you feel, Young Master. But MC will no longer let me bow to them because it appears I'm overdoing it.

Thirteen: And that's all of them! Goodness not one of them could finish this simple dare of pretending to betray you?!!?

Solomon: Bold words from a person who went tongue tied and started throwing all your happy prank machines when MC pretended to cry.

[anintrovertedechoe]

no thoughts just hugging mammon with everything you have and crying into the nape of his neck while he hugs you just as tight, just as hard, just as desperately, but also so gently because he’s afraid he’ll break you with how delicate you are right now.

no thoughts just slumping against him after crying out everything left in you and falling asleep while he still holds onto you and kisses the crown of your head because he knows you won’t notice.

no thoughts just his heart breaking because if he had his way he would take your pain onto himself in a heartbeat but he can’t and that’s what hurts the most.

no thoughts just mammon staying with you like that the whole night and checking your pulse occasionally and feeling relieved at it’s presence because it means you’re still here with him.

no thoughts just falling asleep with your first man and having him treat you like you’re the most precious thing in all of the three realms.

no thoughts; just mammon being your rock like he always is.

[tsukii0002]

I was traveling and I saw a statue called the fallen angel, referring to the fall of Lucifer. And I remembered that there are many representations of this fall, paintings, statues, other works of art… How must Lucifer feel when he sees these representations of his lowest moment? What thoughts crossed his mind? What did he think when Mc saw them and then met him?

Mc: Lucifer?

Lucifer: *looking at the statue seriously*

Mc: Luci..?

Lucifer: It's like humans praise my fall.

Mc: *looking at the statue too*

Lucifer: As if they wanted to remember that anyone who defies father will end up like me...

A heavy silence fell over the two, Mc and Lucifer looking at the statue.

Mc: Well, or it could have another meaning.

Lucifer: *looking at them*

Mc: *looking back at him* It could be a reminder that you tried the impossible, that you challenged the undefiable.

Lucifer: *putting on a half-smile* You, really are...

Mc: If it's not a reminder of a moment that inspires, why would you bother to make it so beautiful?

Lucifer starts laughing and ends up hugging Mc.

Mc: *smiling* I think many humans find inspiration in what you did... Great changes occur when one rebels against unjust authority...

Lucifer: You're so strange…. Thanks Mc.

.

.

The statue in question.

.

.

[another-lost-mc]

Welcome Home: When MC returns from the past.

Featuring: The Demon Brothers x gn!Reader

SFW // Content: Bittersweet angst with a happy ending. It's implied that MC has been gone for a significant amount of time and that the demon brothers spiraled after MC disappeared. Includes mentions of unhealthy coping mechanisms including: drinking; implied self-isolation, depression; destructive or violent behaviour; mention of blood/injuries; mentions of Lesson 16 events. 6.9k words.

Read The Worst Goodbye (part one) here.

LUCIFER

Lucifer glances at the clock on his desk and sighs wearily, rubbing the heel of his palms against his eyes.

He already knows it’s going to be another long night of forcing himself to focus on filling out paperwork, on preparing student council memos and the countless other tasks he’s taken upon himself since you disappeared.

A cursed record plays quietly and the fire in the hearth crackles each time a log shifts or splinters. 

A nearly-empty glass of Demonus leaves a rim of condensation on the dark wood desk. He used to keep track of the days that have passed in your absence, but now he counts the empty bottles of that bittersweet amber drink instead.

It’s not only his own vices that weigh heavily on his mind; his brothers aren’t faring any better without you. Their behaviour swings wildly from bored indifference to reckless abandon. He’s not sure what’s worse: forcing them from their rooms when some of them refuse to go to class or work (or eat and bathe or shower), or dealing with their chaos when they decide to replace grief and misery with the wicked temptations and misdeeds of their sins.

You would be disappointed in them, he thinks. You would be disappointed in them all.

But what else can they possibly do while they wait for some glimmer of hope that you’ll come home again?

He remembers the tense conversation he had with Diavolo about your situation after you disappeared with barely a hint of warning. All he had were Solomon’s vague assurances of your eventual return to comfort him.

Lucifer listened to Diavolo’s insufficient apologies and condolences, but he couldn’t help but glance at Barbatos whose sharp gaze was at odds with the neutral expression on his face. He wondered how much the butler knew about your misfortune, and he’s wondered since then if he should’ve fought harder to force him to bring you back from wherever you were.

Now he passes his time with busywork because he has no one to remind him not to work. He drinks too much to dull the pain in his head and his heart. He sleeps on the couch in his office, or sometimes he slumps on his desk when exhaustion consumes him, because it’s better than lying in his large, empty bed alone.

It shouldn’t have surprised Lucifer that Cerberus eventually realized you were gone too. He went to the family tomb one evening, startled awake by three mournful howls that shook the foundations of the house. He used the bit of magic that gave Cerberus a manageable house-friendly size and without warning, the dog ran past him up the stairs. When Lucifer found him again, the three-headed dog was whining pitifully and pawing at your bedroom door. 

Lucifer hadn’t entered your room since you left, but he had to prove that you weren’t there. That didn’t stop his hound from searching the rest of the house before returning to Lucifer’s side, ears drooping and each head whining in confusion as they bumped against his legs.

Cerberus has barely left his side since, trailing after him and sleeping in front of the fire while Lucifer’s pen scratches quietly across the papers on his desk.

Lucifer contemplates giving up on his work for the night and resting on the sofa, but he frowns when Cerberus stands up suddenly and trots across the room. The door must not have been closed tight because he nudges the door open with one of his snouts. All three heads tilt curiously and he sniffs noisily. Lucifer rises from his chair with a curse when the hound bolts out of the room, howling as he runs out of the library and into the dark hallway past.

Lucifer’s steps are slow and clumsy at first as he shakes off his desperate need for sleep, but he needs to catch the noisy creature first. The last thing he wants to deal with right now is his brothers waking up in the middle of the night in foul moods and causing even more of a ruckus.

The dog’s strange howling stops somewhere near the front of the house, and Lucifer freezes when he turns the corner just in time to see Cerberus knock someone to the floor.

You.

He knocked you to the floor so each of his heads could yip excitedly and lick at your face. When you laugh and try to push the animal away, Cerberus plops down on your legs and seems content to keep you trapped there.

Lucifer, staring wide-eyed and speechless, takes a hesitant step, and then another, before breaking into a run.

It’s not long after that when each of his brothers each stumble drowsily into the hallway, grumbling and snarling and glaring because of the loud disturbance that woke them from their sleep.

Their tempers die down and it's utter chaos when they process the sight in front of them: Lucifer chuckling while you hold each other in the middle of the hallway floor near your bedroom, the Avatar of Pride wearing a rare smile and with even rarer tears shining in his eyes, and Cerberus panting happily nearby as if he was the one who brought you home for his grumpy master to find.

MAMMON

Mammon spins in a slow circle where he dangles from the dining room ceiling. The rope binding his hands behind his back doesn't budge no matter how hard he tries to rip it apart and set himself free.

"Yo, someone get me down from here, will ya? All this spinning's makin' me dizzy!"

But he knows it's useless. None of his brothers will test Lucifer's short fuse by setting Mammon free, and there aren't any brave humans around to help him anymore.

"It wasn't even that bad. I swear I was gonna return it..." Mammon grumbles to himself. So what if he's gotten a little reckless lately? He's no worse than his brothers are, but that arrogant prat Lucifer doesn't tie them up like this.

He braces himself for a long, boring day, spinning for hell knows how long, until Lucifer remembers to set him free.

"Oh no. Mammon. What did you do to upset him this time?"

His body jerks when he hears—thinks he hears a familiar voice. He recognizes the silhouette of the shadow that stands in the doorway briefly before stepping towards him, but he shakes his head like it’ll make the illusion fade away.

That's gotta be his imagination, right?

"You son of a—this is a cheap shot, even for you," Mammon snarls, cursing Lucifer for teasing him with an illusion of all things. Why else would you suddenly appear before him like a dream - or a nightmare - except to taunt him?

Isn't suffering without you punishment enough?

“Here, let me help you…” The voice is quieter now, but close. Gentle hands tug uselessly at the cursed rope holding him in place and he clenches his eyes shut tight and reminds himself that you’re not here.

But then he recognizes the sound of a tongue clicking in frustration, the barely-audible murmurs about Lucifer needing to loosen up, and he crumples in a heap on the floor when a spell he doesn’t recognize causes the ropes to vanish without a trace.

He bumps into someone’s legs when he rolls over, but he doesn’t get up. He throws an arm over his eyes instead.

It's not you, it's not you, it's not you—

But he grunts when a heavy weight suddenly plops down on top of him and he can’t help but breathe deep when a familiar scent tickles his nose. It makes him shiver, gives him hope, and he whimpers.

You nudge his arm aside so you can cup his cheeks in your palms and force him to look at you. Your thumbs swipe away the tears that slip from the corner of his eyes; you're not sure if the sound that rips from his throat is a sob or a laugh.

He stares at you for a long time before he speaks again, and for the first time in ages, he feels something other than pain.

"Don't you dare think of leavin' me behind the next time you decide to disappear like that," he threatens. There's no heat in his voice, only slow acceptance and relief that you're finally back where you belong—with him.

He crushes you against his chest in a tight hug while you whisper apologies into the crook of his neck, and you stay that way - curled together in the middle of the dining room floor - until the others find you later.

LEVIATHAN

Thump-thump-thump.

Levi's TV across the room drones on quietly, a random anime DVD playing on repeat for the dozenth time, but he doesn't pay attention to it.

Thump-thump-thump.

Levi's computer pings faintly, barely audible over the hum of Henry's aquarium. He hasn't sat at his desk in ages, he hasn't logged in for any of his gaming events or guild raids and he stopped keeping track of what his favourite idols are up to. Notifications on his social media accounts and emails are ignored and left unread.

Thump-thump-thump.

His D.D.D. vibrates somewhere in the tangled mess of blankets and pillows underneath him but he ignores that too. It's probably Lucifer reminding him that he needs to go to class sometime this week.

Unlike his brothers, Levi's not going to pretend he's fine.

He hasn't been fine for a long time.

Thump-thump-

A knock on his door startles him and his tail stops thrumming against the side of his porcelain tub. He pokes his head out from the nest of blankets he buried himself in and glares at the door across the room. The orange of his irises flare in a menacing glow from underneath the hood pulled over his head, the drawstrings chewed and frayed ages ago.

Everyone knows not to bother him. It was a very simple request.

Are they stupid?

He pulls himself out of the tub with his teeth bared. Maybe a little scuffle with one of his nosy siblings will make him feel better—will make him feel something.

He yanks the door open but freezes when he recognizes you, standing in front of him as if you didn't vanish from his life without a trace. Your knuckles are raised like you were about to knock again, and you rock back and forth on your heels as you lower your hand in embarrassment.

Levi's mouth flaps open and shut, but before you can say anything, he lets out a high-pitched squeak and slams the door shut in your face.

That's not the worst reaction you imagined, so you consider it a win.

You press your ear against the door. There's shuffling inside his room, the faint sounds of something hitting the sides of his tub. You knock again softly to warn him before you push the door open and let yourself inside.

Aside from the glow from the aquarium, his room is dark and suffocating. You step gingerly over the piles of books and movies strewn haphazardly across the floor; he never used to be so careless with his collections. An empty food wrapper crinkles under your foot and you hope he hasn't been surviving only on his private stash of imported candy.

There's a familiar lumpy shape laying across the bottom of the tub when you peer over the edge. His sniffles are muffled by the blankets and pillows he's hiding under. The only part of him you can see is his tail that dangles limply over the side.

You sit down next to his tail, careful not to touch it in case he doesn't want you to. It was always a sensitive part of himself and he didn't like others touching it so freely; you're not sure he'll grant you that privilege again anytime soon.

"Levi?"

His tail twitches at the sound of your voice. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes peer out from a gap in his little hideaway. There's a lot of emotion swirling in the gaze that narrows at you suspiciously: pain, confusion, anger—all tempered with the tiniest bit of hope.

You lean forward and press your hand against him where you think the curve of his shoulder is. You're gentle enough that he can ignore it or shake you off if he wants. His body deflates under your hesitant touch like he finally let go of the breath he's been holding for so long. He blinks at you, eyes widening as he dares himself to believe you're actually there. More of his face peeks out at you when he slowly peels the blanket away.

"I'm back." The words croak out of you, and your voice is watery like the tears that sting your eyes. His only response is a wounded noise he makes at the back of his throat. You recognize it instantly—you made sounds just like it when you were first torn away from here. Away from him.

You know you have so much to explain and apologize for, and you don't even know where to start, but before you can say anything else, his tail coils around your wrist. You tumble forward when he pulls you down into the tub with him. His arms and legs and tail curl themselves around you, and if you didn't miss him as much as you did, you might complain about how uncomfortable it is.

He mumbles apologies into your chest because he was convinced that whatever happened to you was his fault somehow.

You spend a long time trying to reassure him it wasn't his fault at all.

SATAN

As soon as you get your bearings, stumbling in your room where the portal suddenly dropped you, you want to see Satan. You need to see him.

You love him. You missed him. You worried about him, and you worried for him. He might not always show his rage or act on his violent impulses with you anymore, but you can only imagine what he must've felt when you disappeared.

You saw what he was like before—young, lost, bewildered and so unspeakably angry—and you need to see for yourself what's happened since your untimely absence.

It's disorienting trying to make your way out of your bedroom. It's dark and a bit dusty, and the furniture isn't quite where you left it. You bump your knee and trip more than once making your way to the door. The knob sticks as if it hasn't been opened in ages.

Part of you pushes down the sting that maybe the brothers abandoned your room completely and tried to pretend you didn't exist since you’ve been gone.

(If you could see better in the near darkness, you'd know that most of your bookshelves and drawers are almost empty, picked clean by each of the siblings who took your belongings to keep in their rooms instead.)

Nothing can prepare you for what you find when you head up the stairs to the second floor and stop in front of Satan’s door, or what's left of it. There's giant gashes in the wood and you're careful not to scratch your arm on the sharp splinters where claws (or perhaps his tail) broke through it.

You used to tease Satan about the stacks of books he kept on the floor, organized chaos to anyone but him because he could tell you exactly where each and every book was kept. There's no wobbly piles of books on the floor to stumble into now. Broken book spines and torn pages litter the ground beneath your feet, and you can feel the crunch of glass that you assume are the remains of his old lanterns. Even his bed is barely recognizable—the mattress is ripped to shreds and the frame is bent and disjointed.

His bedroom is the embodiment of the fury deep inside him when he realized you were gone. Missing. Taken. And for all his power and his intelligence and wit, even he couldn't find a way to bring you back.

It wasn't your fault either, but faced with the evidence of his misery, you can't help but feel guilty.

You leave his room and in your daze, your feet lead you to the library next. There's a small part of you that fears Satan might've laid waste to another precious room in the house, but there's a flickering light underneath the doorway and you're hopeful it might be intact after all.

Like your room, the library's not quite the same as it was before. The shelves aren't as orderly, as if whoever's been reading the books and ancient tomes couldn't be bothered to put them back properly. There's a small stack of dishes piled on the table near the sofa—a strange sight because everyone knows it bothers Satan if they eat or drink in here. He hated the idea of spills or greasy fingerprints ruining the books by accident. Next to the sofa, a pile of books catches your eye because they're yours, taken from the bookshelves in your room. The spines are creased as if they've been read over and over again, acting as a poor replacement for your company.

There's a soft groan and you suddenly notice the figure laid back on the sofa. A familiar tuft of Satan's blonde hair rests on your pillow and your blanket spills over his legs and waist and onto the floor. The library is his temporary room, the sofa a makeshift bed where he keeps reminders of you close by, and he breathes deeply while he sleeps. His brow is creased as if he's unhappy even in his dreams.

You take a step forward and debate whether you should wake him up or not when the air shifts around you.

He moves faster than you can track with your eyes, launching himself off the couch and pinning you to the floor before you can even stutter out his name. His emerald gaze flickers with fiery rage, his hot breath fanning across your face, and his chest rumbles with a deep, predatory warning. His tail rises menacingly behind him and your throat runs dry at the very real threat hovering over you.

"S-Satan..."

It's almost comical, the way his eyes widen with recognition when you stutter out his name. He drinks in your appearance and by the time he scrambles off you and his demon form is gone. When he was confident in his anger moments ago, now he hesitates when he reaches out to you. He's not sure if you're really there or simply a mirage, the remnants of a dream he wishes he didn't have to wake up from.

As soon as you open your arms to him, he's in your embrace and nearly topples you both over in his haste to be close to you. His hands smooth up your arms and he cradles your jaw, tilting your head slowly as he checks for any sign of injury. He bumps his nose against yours when he's satisfied that you're unharmed, whether by his own hand or from someone else's, and he smiles a bit sheepishly when you do.

"I'm sorry I scared you."

"I'm sorry I left you."

He seems content holding you on the library floor, nuzzling against your temple and inhaling the familiar scent of your skin. It's such a simple thing, but he enjoys it.

He hasn't felt this relaxed in ages.

"I saw your room." You're not sure why you blurt that out of all the things you could talk about instead. "I went there first to find you."

He clears his throat and turns away as pink dusts his cheeks. "Ah, well...I might've gone overboard." He's quiet for a moment before he looks at you, feigning a look of innocence that poorly masks the amusement underneath. "If I told you it was Lucifer's fault, would you believe me?"

Laughter bubbles out of you and he chuckles too. "Not a chance! But I'll help you no matter whose fault it was. There's nothing we can't fix together, right?"

"I'd like that," he murmurs against your cheek. 

ASMODEUS

Asmo was heading to the kitchen when he crashed into someone coming out of your bedroom. His arms flailed wildly at his sides while he tried to keep his balance and stop himself from toppling over. He ran his fingers through the curtain of hair that fell into his eyes, and the venomous anger pouring from his mouth came to a screeching halt when he realized the person he bumped into was you.

Your eyes were wide with shock, but you couldn't decide what surprised you more: colliding with your beloved demon after so many dreary days forced apart, or the anger that poured from him in waves.

"I'm back," you explained dumbly. Obviously. But he blinked his eyes rapidly like he wouldn't believe it.

"How?! I mean, when did you—?"

Whatever he was going to say next caught in his throat as his eyes flitted over your appearance. His gaze was critical, honing in on the smallest little details, the things that are different from the way you looked when he last saw you. Something about your hands gets his attention, and he holds them both gently in his palms.

"Oh, hon, who's been helping you with your nails? The polish is chipped."

His mood shifts so rapidly that it gives you whiplash, and you glance down at your fingers. Maybe it has been a few days, and sure, they might look a little worse for wear, but you're baffled that he noticed that of all things.

"Well, technically, you've been doing them for me." You smile gently at the joke because his past self was just as attentive to your needs and loved taking care of you in the simplest ways.

It might be the wrong thing to admit out loud, though. The guarded look Asmo gives you is so cold, so detached that the amusement fades from your expression.

"The least I can do is help clean these up for you now that you're back, hmm?" His voice is loud and a bit shrill, cracking on some of the words. He spins on his heel and tugs on your hand as he heads towards the staircase.

He doesn't notice - or maybe he just doesn't care - that the commotion reached the dining room. His brothers stumble into the hallway and you can't make out anything they're saying as they all rush towards you and try to talk over each other.

A terrifying growl rips through the hallway and startles them all into silence. it makes your skin crawl because you know the sound came from Asmo. His brothers don't seem impressed by him attempting to keep you to himself when you've just returned, but his aura crackles with something menacing and even Lucifer thinks twice about trying to stop him.

"We'll talk to you after you've had a moment to catch up in private," he suggests loudly. Asmo huffs in annoyance but his pace doesn't falter. He holds your hand tightly in his grip and you have little choice but to follow him up the steps towards his room. You shoot Lucifer and his brothers an apologetic glance before they disappear from view.

You're nearly at the top of the steps when a flurry of movement on the ground startles you. Familiar black shapes weave between your legs and snap teasingly at your ankles. You curl against Asmo's back with a nervous little yelp.

"They won't hurt you, you know that," he reminds you with a coo, and there's a gentle cadence to his voice that reminds you so much of the demon you missed all this time. He winks at you over his shoulder before he looks down at the scorpion familiars skittering on the floor, each of them radiating the faint pink glow of his power. "They'll make sure my brothers don't bother us."

As soon as Asmo ushers you into his room, he steers you gently towards his bed. The smile curling his lips looks strained. "Wait for a moment, darling, I'm going to—"

You reach for the sleeve of his dressing gown and stop him from leaving to do whatever he had planned. "Asmo, wait." You pat the bed. "I don't care about that right now. My nails can wait until later."

He bites his lip and his eyes are glassy as they fill with tears. He sniffles a little under his breath and wipes his face with his sleeve. "But I'm the one who's supposed to take care of you, not—" he looks away as his cheeks turn splotchy. "It's not fair that he was there for you when you belong here with me." He bites his bottom lip when it starts to quiver and he chokes out a sob. "I missed you so much."

You glance around his bedroom and his strange behaviour starts to make sense when you notice all the small things he's changed while you've been gone.

His vanity and closets are cluttered and not organized flawlessly like usual.

Your eyes pause on a strange, heart-shaped stain on his vanity mirror that you’re too nervous to ask about right now.

(In a moment of frustration, he smashed his fist into the glass the first night you disappeared. He repaired it with magic but smears of blood remained even when the cracks in the mirror vanished. He drew the little heart with his fingertip while he whispered your name like he thought it might summon you back to him, and he cried when it didn’t.)

His bed smells like the fragrance you normally wear, something you brought with you from the human world and he claimed he didn't like very much.

He removed his pillow cases and slipped some of your shirts over his pillows instead.

You wonder how you didn't realize sooner that the dressing gown he's wearing is yours, one of many gifts he gave you after you started dating.

His room is filled with your belongings, things he clung desperately to while he hoped and begged for you to come back to him.

"I think tonight we should take care of each other then, don't you?"

You hold your hand out to him, and it only takes a moment for him to stumble over to the bed. He gathers you in his arms and holds you so tightly that it's hard to breathe, like he's scared to let you go. You tangle your fingers in his clothes because you're just as needy as he is.

He whimpers your name against your neck,  interspersed with little kisses that are featherlight but still enough to make your head spin; your tears roll down your cheeks and mix with his, and they're wet and salty on his lips. He murmurs an inaudible mantra as he drags his mouth over your jaw so he can kiss you properly, and it leaves you both breathless.

—I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you—

The others aren't surprised at all when you and Asmo lock yourselves away in his room 'til morning. 

BEELZEBUB

The joy of returning home turns bitter in your heart when you realize Beel isn't there. His brothers are in the dining room and hear the noise when the portal unceremoniously drops you in the middle of your bedroom floor. They hear a thump and a soft oof! and by the time they scramble out of their seats and into the hall, you're already stumbling through the door and rubbing the soreness from your back.

The weight of six demons attempting to hug you drags you back down to the floor, but this time you're cushioned in someone's lap and suddenly the floor doesn't seem all that bad. Even though you're being squeezed within an inch of your life and they're all talking (and crying and stuttering) over each other, their voices are similar yet so different from the ones you heard in the past, you can't bring yourself to care.

By the time they quiet down to give you a chance to get a word in, you're hugged and warmed and loved like you haven't been in a long time.

The only thing that's bittersweet about your long-awaited reunion is Beel's absence.

"He's at Fangol practice," Belphie says. His voice is slightly muffled since he can't seem to stop nuzzling your shoulder. "He should be home soon."

Asmo's fingers are already tapping quickly across his D.D.D. "I tried calling already but he didn't answer. He'll want to know you're back."

"He might not see the message in the middle of practice," Lucifer warns him from somewhere at your back. "Perhaps one of us should go get him?"

There's a tinkling ping not long after and Asmo waves his phone in your face, but you can't possibly read it.

"Ha! And you thought it would be a waste of time, hmm? Well, I'll have you know that Beel said...'ok'? Huh." Asmo winces when disappointment flickers across your face at Beel's lack-of response. "I'm sure he's excited to see you! You know he's not very fond of texting."

"I think I'll wait for him in his room." The brothers slowly detangle themselves from you and return to the dining room to give you some privacy. They might not like it, but they know that something happened between you and Beel before you disappeared.

You turn around at the sound of footsteps jogging behind you and see Belphie trying to catch up. "I didn't want to say anything with the others around," he says quietly, "but you don't have anything to worry about. I already know he's rushing home to see you even if he didn't say he was."

"How can you be so sure?" You sniffle quietly and stare at your feet. "We had the worst fight before I—before what happened, and he was so angry."

Belphie glances at you over his shoulder as he pushes open the door to the bedroom he shares with his twin. “Trust me when I say that he’s not angry anymore, alright?”

You step into the room behind Belphie and instantly glance at the side of the room where Beel sleeps. You didn’t realize that your bed was stripped before but your pillows and blankets ended up on his bed. There are framed photos of you and Beel on his bedside table, and the sign you made for his last Fangol game - the one you missed when you disappeared - is hanging on the wall. 

“I can’t believe he kept that,” you whisper. The bright, sparkly paint spells out Beel’s name and jersey number in large, bubbly writing. The edges of the poster board are frayed and bent, but it’s obvious he tried to preserve it.

Maybe he missed you as much as you missed him after all.

Thundering steps outside catch your attention and you turn around in time to see Beel lean against the doorway like he sprinted home.

There are bags from Hell’s Kitchen hanging from Beel’s arm but Belphie hops off his bed and plucks the bags from his brother with a hum. “I’ll put these in the kitchen for later.” He pauses and gives his brother a pointed look, nodding not-too-discreetly in your direction, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

You’re not sure how long you stare at each other. His eyes take greedily over your face and body and he frowns like he’s scrutinizing your appearance, trying to see how—if—you’ve changed, searching out any potential injuries you might be hiding and how he can punish those responsible.

Likewise, you take in his field-worn appearance, the grass stains and dirt that clings to his uniform and skin. His hair is matted down and he smells strongly of evening dew and sweat. 

He’s filthy and grimy but you’ve never wanted him more in your life.

He grunts when you nearly launch yourself into his arms. Maybe later he’ll feel guilty about ruining your clothes with mud from the Fangol pitch, but when he breathes in deep and soaks in the familiar scent of your skin, all those insignificant problems melt away.

“I brought dinner for us,” he murmurs quietly as his cheek nuzzles against you. “If you don’t mind putting up with seeing me like this a little bit longer, I’d like to eat with you before I shower.” His chapped lips brush over your brow. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You cup his cheek and offer him a bright and teary-eyed smile. “And you know what? I think I’m starving.”

It’s not long after that containers of your favorite takeout are spread out on the dining room table. The others have vanished, probably at Belphie’s insistence, and you’re grateful to have this quiet time together.

If you end up in his lap while he practically feeds you, sneaking little tastes for himself with lingering kisses he presses gently to your mouth, that’s no one else’s business but yours and his.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie can't remember the last time he's gone this long without a proper night's sleep. When his brothers have trouble sleeping, plagued by haunted memories and their most insidious fears, he can put their minds at ease.

He tells himself it's a selfish gesture, because if his brothers' dreams are too vivid or too disturbing or too terrible for him to ignore, he can't sleep either.

The truth is, he doesn't want them to suffer.

Unfortunately, the Avatar of Sloth has no such saviour to save him from his own bad dreams. He can't call them nightmares because that's not what they are. They're fragments of memory and echoes of his deepest desires that plague him every time he closes his eyes.

More often than not, his brothers’ dreams are haunted by the ghost of you that disappeared without a trace. Every night when someone dreams of you, Belphie dreams of you too.

It reminds him of the cold, slippery sensation the night that your consciousness was dragged away into the unknown. The place in his dreamscape where your little pond of dreams and nightmares used to be is a black void in his subconscious, a gaping wound in his mind that rivals the empty spot in his bed where you used to sleep. Your warmth is gone and it leaves his sheets and heart bitter-cold.

Today, Belphie wakes up from a rowdy disturbance coming from somewhere else in the house.

His brothers can be so loud sometimes.

The voices downstairs that wake him quiet into an excited hush when they notice his arrival.

"Belphie!" Asmo cries happily when he reaches the bottom of the attic stairs and steps out into the hallway. "We were about to come wake you—look who's finally come back to us!"

Whatever his brother yammers on about next is drowned out by the static ringing in his ears; Belphie stares at the awkward group hug on the floor in front of him and has no idea what to say.

You looked a little embarrassed sitting in Lucifer's lap while Mammon clings to one arm and Levi holds the other. Your eyes are bright and watery with tears and a wobbly smile tugging at the corner of your lips when you realize he was there.

A trembling hand reaches out to him, uncertain but inviting. A hopeful gesture.

Countless times, Belphie imagined what he might do or say if–when–you finally came home. He was ready to spill his guts at your feet and beg you not to leave him like that ever again. He would apologize over and over again for all the terrible things he’s said and done before because he couldn't help thinking this was somehow his fault.

For reasons he can’t explain, unexplainable anger rises inside him and smothers the impulse to celebrate your return. The desperate urge to crawl into your lap and cling to you fizzles into nothing the longer he stares at you.

You know how badly he sleeps when you're not cuddled in bed next to him. It’s your fault he feels so awful, isn’t it?

He can only imagine what he looks like now, with his bedhead hair and pouty lips and the flaky crust of dried tears still clinging to the corners of his eyes. He rubs his face to wipe away the remnants with sleep, but he feels the familiar sting of hot tears building up instead.

Your love has made a terrible mess of him, and he’s not ready for this after all.

Someone shouts after him when he turns on his heel and heads back up the attic stairs without a word. He keeps walking and ignores the soft, wounded noise behind him; his brothers were quick to try and comfort you where he cannot.

"Let's give him a bit of space," someone suggests quietly. 

Slamming the attic door doesn’t feel as satisfying as Belphie hoped it would. He collapses back onto the bed and throws the blanket over his head. He tosses and turns and by the time he falls into another restless sleep, he still can't decide whether he's relieved or devastated that you didn't follow him.

It's deep in the twilight hours when Belphie senses a familiar dip of the mattress when someone slips into bed beside him. He tries to stay submerged in the weightless realm of sleep, but the sudden warmth of a hand resting hesitantly on his back ruins that plan.

"Isn't there someone else you can bother?" he grumbles into the pillow. He fell asleep face down and he stubbornly refuses to look at you. “Go away.”

"I’m sorry.” A heavy pause. “I couldn't sleep." Your voice is quiet but it shakes with something vulnerable that catches Belphie's attention.

With an indignant huff, he turns his head and pries an eye open and glances your way. The attic is shrouded in darkness but he can still see the downturned frown of your lips. When he rolls onto his side and leans closer, he looks past the watery film that makes your eyes shimmer and notices the dark shadows underneath them that he didn’t notice before.

Exhaustion radiates off you and he can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since you had a proper night’s sleep too.

He doesn’t ask about the things you did while you were gone or the things you saw. He remembers well enough what his own heart was like back then in that murky stretch of time when he clung to rage and hatred to soothe his own despair.

He doesn’t ask if you still have bad dreams about death or monsters that wear his face and sneer as you struggle against the bruising grip around your throat. He feels guilty that maybe he wasn’t there to save you from the version of himself that lurks in your memory.

The stiffness in his bones deflates as the chill from the attic subsides, replaced by the warmth of your body lying close to his. He places his hand tentatively on your waist and when you don’t flinch or move away, he urges you closer.

"I can help if you want," he offers hesitantly, a feeble apology to start to make amends.

But you understand the meaning behind the gesture for what it is: a peace offering for now until you can talk properly later. Considering his reaction earlier, this is more than you could've hoped for.

“I was scared to ask for help at first," you admit quietly when you rest your ear over his heart and sigh as the soft, familiar rhythm thumps deep in his chest. “You were angry earlier and I didn’t want to upset you even more if you weren’t ready to see me yet.”

Belphie ducks his head low and rubs your back as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck. The vibration of his noncommittal hum tickles your skin. “I’ll help you sleep tonight so you can make it up to me tomorrow.”

Tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that–

Convinced that he isn’t going to push you away and judging the coy grip of his tail that’s suddenly found itself wrapped around one of your legs, you let yourself lean against him fully with a long, weary sigh. It doesn't take long for your eyes to slip closed or for your breathing to sync with his as he lulls you gently into a peaceful state of rest.

Belphie feels his eyes grow heavy once he’s certain that you’re dreaming peacefully. He does sleep better when you’re here, after all. He’s held you in his arms like this before, far too many times for him to count, but it feels different than he remembers.

Has holding you like this always felt this satisfying, or did he take for granted all those times he dragged you to bed and assumed you'd still be there when he woke up?

He won’t make that mistake again.

"I missed this, you know," he whispers against the soft spot on your throat where your heart beat is strongest, pressing lazy kisses against your skin. He closes his eyes with a satisfied smile even though you don’t respond; the way your body melts against his is proof enough that you missed him too.

Read More: Obey Me Masterlist

[temis-de-leon]

He has a nightmare where he rejected you

Characters: Lucifer and Mammon (x gn!reader, separately)

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

Main Masterlist

CW: very OOC since they'd never reject you to begin with, but hey, that's why it's a nightmare

A/N: the rest of the brothers, as well as the dateables, will have their own part too, but I'm writing the requests and the fics for the 500 followers event at the same time, so everything will take some time <3

.

Lucifer – You weren’t his first choice

Under the fear and the mistrust, you showed a clear interest in him since the beginning.

He couldn’t blame you; he was handsome, after all, and he knew his attitude was attractive to most.

And while he found you beautiful as well, you meddled too much in his family’s business and your defiance to him only felt irritable.

You were a nuisance. A threat to his Lord’s wishes.

He made sure to keep you at arms’ length except the few times he felt the need to threaten you.

Surprisingly, the more you forced him to know you, the more he couldn’t say no.

Your shared time turned enjoyable and you soon started to hang out in his office late at night or, if you were an early riser like him, in the morning during breakfast.

He should’ve expected your romantic feelings towards him, something he saw before you had the chance to tell him. The way you looked at him or blushed when he paid you attention, how you searched for his presence more and more.

He rejected you before you could even talk to him about it.

It was brutal, in a way, cold and straight to the point. He didn’t bother to pour his heart into his apology.

He had his duties to Lord Diavolo, to his family and the kingdom.

The attraction he felt for you, the love that could’ve been, wasn’t enough for him to stay.

There were two types of pain in his chest when he woke up: the pressure in his sternum caused by the sharp edge of the desk and the sting in his heart from the hurt in your eyes.

He didn’t do that, did he?

He accepted you, he accepted your love with open arms, gave his in return. Lucifer could remember the smile in your first kiss just as much as the sincerity in your voice each time you reminded him the depth of your feelings. He always opened his ribcage like you would with a book to show his reciprocation.

Staring at his paperwork in horror, the pool of saliva slowly drying under his distress, Lucifer searched for memories that could prove the existence of your relationship. Your weight on his lap, your scent in his clothes, the last message you sent him, the last time he treated you on a date.

When was that?

How many days ago?

Weeks? Months??

His fingers trembled when he pushed his hair back and he knew the sting in his eyes wasn’t due to fatigue. Now gasping, eyes wide open in panic, he got up and paced around the room, the false reality of his dreams thankfully fading away and letting him see himself pouring two drinks while you stared at him in adoration, setting you on top of the table to kiss you carelessly or letting you drag him out of the office for a good night sleep.

 “Dear Diavolo” he mustered to himself, taking his coat off and letting it fall to the ground before breathing deeply. “How stupid… Stupid…”

Although not entirely, the embarrassment of suffering such despair for a nightmare washed the panic away, making him thank everything that would listen that none of his brothers were there to witness his fear and desperation.

It was the last thing he needed.

However, still hating the oneiric sight of your heartbreak, Lucifer refused to stay in the office. Reading official documents and signing them with his beautifully practised handwriting seemed like proper torture now and he knew that going back to his work would only give him more suffering dreams.

Would you hug him for the rest of the night if he asked or would you rather have the roles reversed, as it usually was? Oh, what he would do to feel your fingers through his hair and your heartbeat under his cheek. He’d stay awake forever if that meant never letting you go the way he did in his dream.

.

Mammon – He wouldn’t admit the truth

He thought so lowly of you during your first week in the Devildom that once he caught feelings, admitting them was simply mortifying.

The second born, Avatar of Greed, falling in love with a human? It was embarrassing at best and pathetic at worst.

Yet, he followed you every step of the way. Going to classes, to the cafeteria, back to the house once the day was over...

As days went by, he even spent more time in your room than his; watching a movie, taking a nap, studying or just hanging out.

And when he wanted to do something else? Something more… illegal and underground?

Oh, you followed. You followed him just as blindly as he followed you.

It was painful, yet wonderful.

How full his chest felt whenever you smiled or even looked at him, the complicity in your conversations, the comfortable silence you shared.

The quiet sobs that closed his throat each time he insulted you because he accidentally showed too much of himself, the horrifying emptiness of his room that engulfed him when you finally had enough and wouldn’t let him visit you out of the blue anymore.

Your feelings for him were as clear as the ones he had for you, but none of them were spoken about.

Yours came and went, first hopeful and then neglected.

His stayed.

He still followed, you just didn’t look back anymore.

He woke up crying, body hyperventilating and sweating and mind still in the horror that his dream had created.

He recognized the sheets as the ones from his bed, but everything else looked blurry and too dark to pay attention to. However, Mammon could feel the spot next to him still warm and the silhouette of your figure was visible on the mattress. A quick glance at the door and the lights of the bathroom shining through helped set his heart in a steady pace.

You were there with him, unavailable for just a couple of minutes, but soon to return to the comfort of his arms. Your clothes were mixed with his on the sofa, he was charging his DDD with your charger because his was in your room.

Even if it was hard to say out loud, Mammon loved you too much to ever let you go, as did you.

There was no possibility of that nightmare ever being real.

“Did I wake you up?”

There you stood, above him, hair completely dishevelled, eyes half closed, either from grogginess or the temporary blindness from light exposure, and hands reaching out for him. Your fingers intertwined with his as soon as they found each other and your lips slowly came down to clumsily kiss the corner of his mouth.

“What was that?” he softly laughed, quickly forgetting about the nightmare.

“Shut up, I can’t even see you”

He could only observe in tenderness and relief as you climbed over him, ignoring your side of the bed in favour of his entire torso, but, just when you were settling in, you licked your lips and stared at him, even if you weren’t entirely able to see.

“Baby, are you crying?”

“No, I’m not” he immediately answered in a defensive stance, blushing in embarrassment.

How could you know being blind as a mole?? Did you taste his tears when you kissed him?

“Mammon”

You tried to look serious, but the exhaustion betrayed you, turning your glare into a pout. He could’ve laughed at you, and he would’ve in any other situation, but the feeling of being too late to freely love you still crushed his heart and the only thing he wanted to do was to keep you close and hope you were still there by morning.

“I’m not crying” he insisted, this time in a softer tone.

That seemed to reach whatever was left of your consciousness, so you finally let your head fall on top of his chest to continue your slumber, talking one last time only to say what he needed to hear the most.

“I love you, Mams”

“I love you too” he sighed.

He’d tell you again once you were awake. And once more after that, just to make sure.

.

.

[impish-ivy]

Do you think the reason Solomon isn’t able to tell that the people around him hate his food is because as he was growing up he perceived disgust as love?

We know he’s being genuine because he acts very shocked and hurt when MC and Asmo tell him the truth. I’ve seen theories that he fakes not being aware because he’s trolling and although that’d be hilarious, it’s not canon.

His friendship with Thirteen would only further to prove this belief. They both care very much about each other but they have more of a cat-mouse relationship. She regularly insults him and he always laughs it off or thanks her for her compliments.

The same way he reacts to complaints about his cooking.

The brother’s close relationship probably doesn’t help either. They’re constantly at each other’s throats but are praised for being close and loving each other so much. So when they speak about how shit his cooking is, he probably thinks they’re just doing their family banter.

And I think they’re all aware of this.

Not of his specific trauma, but that he has some. It’s why they never bother correcting him or refuse to eat his food outright.

It’s why he likes to cook for everyone so much, he feels so loved when everyone complains about his cooking.

This is the dude who canonically loves being scolded by MC, after all.

[thoughts-rambles]

"Asmodeus hates being kissed on the face," was a fact that got shared to you early on your visit to the Devildom. It was a shocking one at that, the Avatar of Lust? Doesn't like being kissed on the face? The look of shock on your face prompted the brother to explain that it was because he hated having his beautiful makeup ruined, that he'd simply have no time left in the world if he had to reapply makeup every time someone wanted to kiss him. Plus, he would add, kisses on the lips were far more fun.

Asmodeus, in reality, hated being kissed on the face because it felt too domestic, too loving, too unreachable. It was a secret he would take to his grave, hidden beneath carefully woven lies, because the truth would be far too vulnerable. There was no one who could love the real him, so he'd settle for the physical intimacy that sex had brought, but refuse to indulge in the emotional connection that was associated with soft kisses being peppered on his face. The tender moments that could be shared between true lovers was simply not meant for him, and the quicker he pushed it away the easier it would be to accept. He'd simply stick to having random demons worship his body in other ways. Ways that'd more quickly- but not sufficiently- fill the gaping void in his chest yearning for love. He was the Avatar of Lust, and that's all he'd ever be. And he was okay with that, happy even.

...until you came along.

[fisshbones]

Once More to See You

A/n: I still suck at endings :’( i’m half asleep and sick so this might not be that good!!

If you liked this please like and reblog <333

Tw: gn!reader(only reffered as you), possibly ooc, hurt with no comfort.

Men whose reputations were everything to them. They had to keep up the pristine and perfect persona. They kept your relationship hidden from everyone. Shameful over daring to even converse with someone as lowly as you. Yet despite the harsh words, they enjoyed every second with you. To be seen with a standard human like you would surely damage his image.

One night the fear of ruining his reputation hits an all time peak, and he loses his cool. Yelling at you that you’re not worth losing anything for. That this all needs to end; that it’s been a waste of his time to be pursuing a useless relationship. When he finally cools down and you leave, will he realize what he’s just done. No matter what he sees or hears he tell himself that it was worth it. His reputation is no longer at stake and you can be happier not needing to pay pretend anymore.

They wish they could just leave everything behind and live a life with you two. No worries of work, reputation, or enemies. Maybe in the next lifetime. But in this lifetime they hope you’d forgive them somewhere down the line for leaving you.

As years go by and he gets older, the only hope he has is that one day you’ll be back so you’ll be able to grow old together. Every marriage proposal he turns down because he can only imagine spending his life with you. He thought his reputation was everything, now he realizes you were actually everything thing to him.

doppo kunikida, Ayato, pantalone, Sunday, alhaitham, Fyodor, Angel Devil, dr. ratio, Barbatos, Saigiku Jouno, blade.

©2024 fisshbones do not translate, copy, modify, nor repost.

[squeakyducky]

I hate replaced!au so much(they break my heart 💔💔) that I want to see a prompt where that new one that was supposed to 'replace' MC, fails so miserably while trying to take their place. Think about it, imagine it. Wouldn't it be funny? If anything like this happens in canon, it's gonna go like this I am sure.

R/n : *coquettishly trip on air in front of Lucifer*

Lucifer : *raises a brow and continues his walk, ignoring them*

I actually want to see a fic like this. If this kind of fic already exists, kindly please tag me 🙏🙏 if there isn't then, writers pls kindly take this idea of mine and do your magic 🤭 don't forget to tag me tho— I wanna read it.

[books-and-catears]

I am once again filled with sadness and I might implode in this cold office cubicle if I don't let it out immediately.

Solomon x MC and this quote. That's it.

Solomon who will go to unnecessary and ridiculous lengths to have you close to him, to show his affection, to have just a minute of your time even though it's probably wasted on him and you have better people to be with.

In a world which has labelled him as a demon, you are the sole reminder of his humanity. A reminder that he's not alone.

You are his favourite apprentice because you remind him of everything that is good about humans and why he spent his whole life protecting them. You make his purpose worth it.

And MC who acts as the best friend he never had, who tends to his inner child so desperately in need of healing, who holds him on his worst nights to show him he's no longer alone.

MC who was the catalyst that showed him that the demons he regarded as contracts could be potential friends too. MC who looks after him and willingly agrees to help him protect the world.

[tsukii0002]

Imagine that after fixing things, after a lot of effort, a lot, Belphie becomes very needy of contact with Mc, the skin to skin contact with Mc calms him, gives him security and gives him strength to move forward day by day, and for the human it became a sign of trust. So every time he needs it, Belphie looks for Mc and Mc stops what they are doing at that moment and extends their arms so that the demon can hug them at ease, changing the meaning of this act from a bad memory to a safe action. And this becomes a habit between the two of them.

Belphie: *looking for Mc*…

Mc: *loading up with materials for a project*

Belphie: *his face lights up* Mc…

Mc: Yes?

Belphie: Hug.

Mc: *opening their arms dropping the stuff on the floor while smiling* Come here.

Belphie: *clinging to the human*

At a party in the palace.

Mc: *talking to some noble demons*

Belphie: *without social battery* Mc…

Mc: Belphie?

Belphie: Hug…

Mc: *smiling as they open their arms obviating the demons*

Belphie: *hugging them tightly*

Mc: *hugging him back* You're going to have to excuse me.

Demon : *blushing* sure…

Belphie didn't let go of Mc the whole party.

Mc and Belphie sleeping in the attic.

Belphie: *having nightmares* Mmmm….

Mc: *waking up because of Belphie*

Belphie: *almost crying in his sleep* I'm sorry Mc…

Mc:… *wakes him gently* Belphie….

Belphie: *waking up* Hum?

Mc: *opening their arms* Hug.

Belphie: *opening his eyes and jumping in to hug them*

Belphie: Love you…

.

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I have the headcanon that Belphie and Mc went through a process of therapy, mourning and mutual understanding after what happened in lesson 16, but that finally they were able to fix things and establish a bond as strong as that of the other brothers, with a lot of effort and work, but they did it. I'm a bit sad that the game didn't touch that topic anymore :(, so there will always be the fanfics 💜

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[anintrovertedechoe]

mc crawls over to mammons bed in the middle of the night after lesson sixteen. they seek comfort in him and he gives it wholeheartedly and tenderly.

they reach the bed and he doesn’t even ask, he just lifts the covers and wraps them in his arms.

the nightmares can’t get them this way; their first man will protect them.

[temis-de-leon]

He has a nightmare where he rejected you

Characters: Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor (x reader, separately)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4 , Part 5

Main Masterlist

CW: Asmo's having a bit of a mental breakdown, Beel literally has a fever dream and there's a brief description of lesson 16 in Belphie's part

.

Asmodeus – He didn’t want to play favourites

There’s an endless line of demons and witches alike willing to kill and die for him.

He can’t live without their adoration, their desire and their support.

While he knows you are not like everybody else, he can’t help but compare you to the rest of his fans.

Where’s the difference between your love and theirs? Can you give more than what they’ve already given him?

He can’t help but feel honoured by your confession, being chosen by their beloved human, but the idea of accepting your advances makes him feel ungrateful to his loyal fans.

The rejection comes out easily, just like many times before, and your reaction makes him sigh and almost offer his shoulder to cry on.

That would’ve been too cruel, wouldn’t it?

The uniqueness of your feelings doesn’t stand out until time passes.

It’s not just your attention that he misses, but also the tenderness in your eyes and the shy hint of your smile whenever he looks at you.

It became apparent that you cared not only for what he showed but also for what he hid about himself.

He tried searching for that same shade of love in your expression, but it faded quickly as weeks passed.

It all reached an end where, in a turn of events that made him sweat in fear and disgust, you started to look instead for his eldest brother.

He starts to work, desperately thinking that, maybe, if he made himself more beautiful or popular, you would change your mind and return to trying to be with him.

However, judging by the way you looked at Lucifer, he knew his reciprocation came a little bit too late.

You woke up to the sounds of sobbing, an animalistic yearning for comfort that pulled you out of your slumber. Hands grabbed the blankets covering you and a voice kept bubbling nonsense, an entire monologue full of sorrow that you couldn’t understand. In the end, it was the familiarity of the demon in front of you what fully brought you to the living world.

Asmo, kneeling beside your bed, cried even louder when he saw you opening your eyes. By the desperate moves of his hands you knew he wanted to hug you and that, mixed with the despair in his expression, tugged your heartstrings with painful force and made you open your arms.

He threw himself at you, burying you both in the cocoon of bedsheets and blankets and wept as you smoothed his hair and murmured words of consolation in his ear.

Almost half an hour passed until he could breathe with ease, but he wouldn’t look at you. Not like you were counting on it.

“You love me, don’t you? Do you still love me? Please, tell me you do. I love you, I truly do. I’d never reject you…”

“Reject me…?”

“I love you, I love you…”

Asmo hid his face in the crook of your neck, rocking the both of you back and forth in search of calmness. He ignored your questions and shaking hands, although you quickly realised he wasn’t entirely conscious about it. He seemed completely lost, repeating the confessions of his affections for you until he finally fell asleep from exhaustion.

You laid under him for the remainder of the night, too scared and shaken to rest again and hoping with all your strength that whatever put him in this state would disappear forever.

Beelzebub – He didn’t feel the same

It is indifference. From the moment you stepped into the house, what he felt for you was nothing more than indifference.

His room is empty and his twin’s absence occupies his mind more than it should, but he can’t do anything about it besides dealing with the loneliness.

Living with his older brothers simply isn’t enough anymore.

His family isn’t complete and the presence of a human in their home isn’t going to change that.

The first time he truly interacts with you is in the kitchen, in the middle of the night, willing to murder you over custard. The only reason you aren’t harmed is his brother’s fondness for you.

As a consequence, his room is no longer empty and he finds that quite enjoyable. Without any reason to be rude or mean to you, your short time spent together passes too quickly for his liking and, afterwards, he finds himself visiting you whenever he has the chance.

Beel values your friendship and he believes the feeling is mutual, even when you blush, smile with excitement and stare with bright eyes whenever he enters the room.

He is incapable of seeing how unbalanced your affections compared to his are.

His heart doesn’t stutter at your existence and neither do his words. You are his friend, a dear one, but nothing more; that’s what he tells you in response to your confession.

He pities your heartbreak and assures you your platonic relationship will remain the same, but his promises fall on deaf ears. The friendship is left hollow and unnatural and he briefly wonders if accepting your pouring heart would’ve been the better option.

Would have he fallen for you over time? If that were the case, although initially forced, would the love blossom into something strong and worth fighting for?

He hopes he will, too, go back to normal as weeks pass and you painfully overcome your crush, but when you’re finally able to look at him with non-romantic warmth, half of his face is red, his eyes twitch in adoration at each one of your smiles and his throat hurts from self-caused frustration.

Now it’s his turn to suffer the heartbreak.

There was a deep pressure on his chest when he woke up and as bad as Beel wanted it to be the comforting weight of your body, he knew that couldn’t be true. He didn’t feel the top of your head under his chin or your quiet breath against his skin. Had you actually been there, he would’ve never let you go.

His eyes were tired, itchy under heavy eyelids, and a pounding headache begged him not to move an inch, although he wasn’t sure he would be able to anyway; his muscles were glued to the bedsheets with sweat.

Groaning in exhaustion, he slowly turned his head sideways, staring at his twin’s sleeping form with deep-rooted fondness. Belphie was frowning, probably feeling part of Beel’s discomfort, and was twitching in his sleep, murmuring words he couldn’t decipher and lashing the tuft of his tail with weak movements.

An empty chair was also there, slightly facing his direction.

Quietly, the door opened and the dim glow of the hallway’s candles briefly lighted the entry, distracting him from the ache. A figure stepped in, tip-toeing while closing the door again and making its way to his bed.

MC…?

Was he hallucinating?

“Did I wake you up?” you asked in worry, unfazed by his silence.

He watched as you ignored the chair and sat beside him at the edge of the mattress, unsure of what to say or do. He wanted to touch you, take your face in his hand and make sure you weren’t a manifestation of his desires, but he wasn’t sure he was allowed to. In addition to that, his head felt full of cotton and completely detached from the rest of his body; he didn’t want to strike you by accident.

“My DDD ran out of battery, but I didn’t know where your charger was and I didn’t want to make noise. I just came back from my room”

You lifted your hand and he gasped in expectation, sighing with relief when you pushed away his wet hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. If he could return the gesture, he would, but he was barely able to keep his eyes focused on you, let alone talk or move.

“You’re still too warm” you informed with a frown, preparing yourself to leave his side. “I’m going to get a wet tow-… Honey?”

Beel sighed again, this time shuddering, exhausted at the effort of grabbing your arm and pulling you back to him.

Honey.

Your lips turned down in a sad smile, still coming down to kiss him again for a little longer.

“You’ll feel better tomorrow, I promise”

Honey.

“…ve you…”

You hummed a question against his skin, unsure of what he’d said, but he suddenly felt too weak to repeat himself.

“Go to sleep, okay? I’ll be here, Beel”

Honey.

Belphegor – He hated you

Your free will and your refusal to give up, going up the stairs despite Lucifer’s threats and helping the mysterious man imprisoned in the attic; stupidity and no sense of self-preservation trapped behind a weak shield of kindness and compassion.

Seeing you strive to help him is amusing; like a candle hoping to light the vastness of the night.

That you think he is a human is just an advantage to his plan, but how can you, such an insignificant creature, aid in his escape?

The mere sight of you sends bile to his mouth, but he can’t do anything besides entertain you whenever your human need of connection forces you to search for him.

You talk incessantly and he listens, albeit with no interest and borderline rude behaviour. He scoffs, shoots sarcastic remarks and brings you down whenever he has the chance, calling you stupid and naïve.

That’s why your feelings for him are so surprising.

You… like him? Do you like being lied to and degraded?

Okay.

He’s not going to complain.

It’s just another reason for you to help him without thinking twice.

And that you do.

A laugh blurts out of his throat when he finally closes his arms around your excited figure. You’re blushing and smiling like a fool and when you try to step away to ask if he’s okay, there’s nothing in your existence but pain.

Your desperate scratches are nothing for him and neither is the heartbreak of betrayal in your eyes. If anything, they make him want to hurt you even further, pushing your neck against the floor with inhumane strength and letting your body fall down the stairs like a child dropping a ragdoll would.

He comes to his senses no long after that; less than an hour. Your heritage is explained and his prejudices are proven to be incorrect, vanishing like dust at the prospect of sharing a friendship with you like his brothers do.

You were nice to him then, back when you didn’t know who he was, so why wouldn’t you be nice to him again now that there are no secrets between you? His actions were wrong, yes, but also justified.

Wouldn’t you agree, MC? He deserves the benefit of the doubt.

But why aren’t you looking at him anymore? Why do you hide? Don’t you trust him?

He said he was sorry! Isn’t that enough?

The door opened with a loud noise, then closed almost without notice. Something dragged across the floor until reaching your bed, a blanket, and if the soft hint of lavender didn’t let you know who just disturbed your sleep, then his words would make it obvious.

“You’re not in my bed” Belphie stated. You turned, confused at the abrupt interruption and the tone of his voice, which made it clear he was trying to hide something. His figure was indistinguishable amidst the dark, but his purple eyes stood out like stars. Before you could say anything, he talked again. “Why?”

He watched in silence as you looked around, trying to find a clue to understand what was happening. Still waiting for a response, he huffed as he climbed over you and settled on the other side of the bed.

“Like a cryptid, Belphie” you mustered in annoyance while letting him cling to your side. “You’re just like a cryptid”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re testing my patience”

“Why aren’t you in my bed?”

“I swear to God…”

You stared at him in disbelief, but something in his expression subdued your irritation. Now that he was closer you could see his glossy eyes, a frown twisting his whole face as his hands held on to you with more force than necessary. Although you had suspicions about what he wanted to hear, a sincere I love you, you still took the longer route and calmly answered his question.

“You kicked me out…”

“I never would” he quickly retaliated, sitting straight like a spring and hovering over you with determined and unblinking eyes.

“…because I had an accident in Solomon’s laboratory and my skin and clothes smelt like chemicals”

There was silence in the room for a few seconds and, after pushing him softly, Belphie finally laid down again, his features slowly relaxing until only a bitter expression remained. Your fingers carefully detangled his hair, but not even that seemed enough to fully calm him down.

“I’m sorry”, he said against your shoulder, delicately hugging your waist like you were made of porcelain.

“It’s okay, we can just go back to sleep…”

“I’m sorry, MC”

Your confusion was obvious, but he didn’t say anything and, by the time you gathered enough courage to ask, he was already deeply unconscious.

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Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[7pink-prin-cess7]

Everyone listen to me!!!!!!

MC who starts hating demons with a burning passion. Demons treat humans as lesser life forms, as filth under their feet or as food. Demons did things to MC that have left them scarred for life. A demon killed them.

So it's no surprise they start treating the demon race like scum driven only by the evil in their hearts. After leaving devildom they gradually cut off all contact with the demon brothers and Diavolo while still being tortured by flashbacks and nightmares about clawed hands crushing their windpipe. And I imagine that it will take a loooooot of time for Belphegor to get over his hatred for humans - so if he and MC ever meet again then it'll be like looking in the mirror. Two pairs of eyes conveying nothing but detestation for one another.