#or even be the tail end of that very fight that Tart demanded (and after he lost he was satisfied but they keep going because He Wants More

[inhumanheresy]

@visionhcld

A golden-bladed speartip digs a quarter of an inch into his chest.

Tartaglia inhales with a sharp hiss as pain flares in his left pectoral, Morax’s weight pressing him inexorably down into the dirt with one foot planted right below his diaphragm. The Harbinger raises his hands as his dual swords splash into formlessness on both sides. “I yield.”

The sun is far higher in the sky than when they first began, and the ache of exertion, bruise, and quick-healed wounds is starting to seep into his bones. Even so, Tartaglia slaps Morax’s calf where the god has him pinned down, this loss marking his… Damn, he’s lost count of how many bouts they’ve gone at this point. “Now off. We go again.”

[obeymeluv]

Give Me Noods [Mammon x Reader]

I’m new to the fandom. Just thought of this and couldn’t let it go. It’s SFW.

Border from cutekaomoji.

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 Being human means you can’t have some Devildom foods but a witch has the solution! You just need Devil’s Tongue.

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 Give Me Noods [Mammon x Reader]

There was a lot to get used to when it came to being a transfer student in the Devildom—classes, people with tails and horns, real magic, stairs…so many fucking stairs—and food was a big one. While explaining almost everything one could hope to learn about the Devildom, they often forgot about the intricacies of their own food. Some food actually tried to eat you back or put up a fight! You were really grateful when mashed potatoes turned out to be just mashed potatoes. A few succubi from your Latin class giggled and cooed over how apprehensive you were, poking at today’s food.

Looked like some sort of meat in a gravy sauce. You were pretty sure that Brussel sprout-looking thing just closed itself though, little baby leaves rustling in defiance. They showed you how to peel away the bitter outer leaves and open it up to reveal a sweet, crunchy center that tasted like Caesar salad. “Weird,” you whispered into your fork, suspicious of how yummy and tender the meat was. The gravy was very flavorful, if not a little salty.

It definitely made up for some of the other things you’d tried so far.

“What’s wrong?” one asked you, looking absolutely smitten. These Devildom people had a thing for humans—apparently you were rare?—and you were still getting used to it. You felt like a class pet.

“Nothing, I just—” you caught a whiff of something spicy and sweet that made your mouth water. It made you perk up a little bit, much to the delight of the succubi. They thought it was funny when you got excited about their boring world. “Do you smell that? It smells good!”

Succubi noses were different than human noses, and your definition of ‘smells good’ was totally different. You were trying to explain how it smelled like the best thing ever, something spicy and savory that demanded to be eaten.

“What needs to be eaten?” you nearly jumped out of your skin, a shock of orange hair coming into view. You were a lot closer to Beelzebub than you thought! He unfolded himself from the lunch table, casually holding a tray full of food as he looked at you.

“The yummy, spicy thing!” you were excited now. Beel could see the stars in your eyes and it made him grin. He finished the burger and moved onto a jerky-wrapped hunk of…something. There were several spicy items in the Devildom—spiced kraken sticks, fire-roasted devil bird, Hell pepper-stuffed pig—but he didn’t recall any of them being served today. Mammon plunked down at the table, his self-declared arrival ignored.

He ripped open a packet of hell sauce and stirred it into the hot noodles. “It smells like--! Mammon, what are you eating?” Mammon nearly choked on the coated noodles when he looked up at the sheer curiosity and hunger shining in your eyes. He grew up with Beel, he knew that look! “These are my noodles!” he grumped, stuffing more into his mouth and turning away sharply. The pointed edge of his teeth glinted in the light, his greedy demon ways shining through.

“I just want to know what it is, I’d like to try it!” you assured him. Mammon eyed you suspiciously, well aware that Beel could wrestle the noodles away from him. Sure he could just tell you, being THE great Mammon and all, but where was the fun in that?

“You got any Grimm on you?” Mammon licked a tiny piece of noodle from the corner of his lip, sizing you up. It was more a joke than anything, but if you wanted to donate out of the kindness of your heart…

One of the succubi at your back hissed and Mammon scoffed in return. Beel gave him a cold, piercing look. Mammon sniffed, turning his nose up at the disapproval. “She lives with us,” Beel reminded.

“And you shouldn’t be rude to house guests, dirty Mammon!” Asmodeus cut in as he sat down, offering for one of the succubi to squeeze in beside him.

“They’re hell-sauce noodles.” Mammon grumbled into the cup.

“Thanks Mammon!” you flashed him a smile he shouldn’t like and didn’t care about because that would be stupid while turning to ask the girls if they had anymore up front. They whisked you away to find them, all too eager to see how the little human reacted.

“You shouldn’t get her hopes up,” Satan shook his head as he picked at his lunch. “Humans can’t eat them. It’ll make them sick.”

“All I did was tell her, and I didn’t even charge her! Not my fault if she can’t eat it!” Mammon shrugged as he went back to scarfing down his noodles. Although there was a twinge of guilt that you would never know the wallet-busting greatness of hell-sauce noodles, Mammon couldn’t feel bad for the package that would end up in the pantry. He just had to get to them before Beel.

His great plan was foiled when he came home to Lucifer, Lord Diavolo, the succubus that’d hissed at him, and an unknown woman standing in the foyer. Then again, his plan was ruined when that withered excuse of a professor gave him a lecture for being on his D.D.D. He was checking his business prospects, thank you very much! Mammon slipped past the group, starting for the kitchen when he overheard something that made him stop entirely.

“So she could eat these if she had Devil’s Tongue.”

“All this for some noodles? I don’t want to kill anyone.” You shook your head with a disappointed sigh. The noise was abruptly swallowed by the raucous laughter of several people. Your human brain would think Devil’s Tongue meant the part itself, but Mammon knew better. That other one must be a witch, then, Mammon’s eyes narrowed behind his yellow sunglasses as a slinked up around the edge of the wall.

“It’s a protective spell,” the witch explained. “Devil’s Tongue would prevent your mouth from being destroyed by the hell-sauce.”

“We shared hell-sauce with some humans once,” the succubus said, “it led to the creation of a lot of your hot sauces but they eventually went mad from the heat.”

“To an obsessive degree,” the witch added grimly. “Some say that’s where hot-tempered people came from.”

“This hell-sauce won’t do that to you, though. It’s been bred down for a couple of centuries.” Beel smiled warmly, a bit of drool threatening to dot the corner of his mouth as the witch waved your pack of noodles around.

“But the heat could make you very sick,” the witch cautioned. “Much worse than your human-world peppers. Those peppers never could accurately capture hell-sauce flavor, but you ended up with a lot of varieties. A small success, I suppose.”

You knew devils made their way into human mythology but never imagined they had anything to do with your food. A food history class would be an interesting elective! You made a mental note to ask Lucifer or Diavolo if they had one to take after you ate these damn noodles. Satan looked like he wanted to add onto the conversation and before he could—bless his nerdy heart—you gently wrestled the pack away from the witch and squeezed it. “I want these noodles. How can I eat them?”

“With the blessing of Devil’s Tongue.” The witch said again, a vague smile playing at her lips. It sharpened and turned smug.

“Meaning?”

“A simple kiss. A blessing of the devil’s tongue.”

Surely a kiss on the lips was acceptable! “That’s it?” just don’t look at any of the hot guys and don’t think about it. It’ll probably only take a second! You’d just barely tilted your chin up, subconsciously bracing yourself as Asmo flew in from who knew where. The blur of wings and perfect hair never caught up to you, Mammon snatching you up in a body-crushing whirl that sent Asmo skidding past you.

“You don’t even like hell-sauce noodles!” Mammon snapped, hugging you to his chest like some kind of doll. You fixed your hair. “The GREAT Mammon has decided to help you, human!” he flashed you a big smile.

“And how are you better than me, Mammon?” Asmo crossed his arms, glaring at his older brother. “This is about a delicate matter, not money. Doesn’t sound like you’re qualified, really.” He smiled cutely but coldly, tossing his hand up in mock casualness despite it clearly being dismissal.

“Because it’s my favorite food!” Mammon replied matter-of-factly. Everyone knew it, too.

“Which should be considered. Their palette will influence how you taste things.” the witch looked much too happy with herself and what was happening.

“So she should really choose Beel or Mammon.” Lucifer crossed his arms, the corner of his mouth turning up at Asmo’s heartbroken face.

“And she’s going to pick me because I’M the best!” Mammon declared proudly, lifting you up to meet his gaze. It would’ve been a really sweet gesture if you were dating (and not in a skirt, sorry Diavolo).

The witch pressed a blue bottle into your hand. “Drink that, then get your dose of Devil’s Tongue.” she turned away to address the spread of papers that Lucifer and Diavolo had on the table. You looked at the vial, turning the ornately carved bottle in your hand as Mammon set you down. He all but dragged you down the hall and behind the safety of the heavy wood doors suited for the marvelous house. The room was thrown into shadows only lit by Mammon’s piercing eyes. Gentle eyes.

He pulled his D.D.D. from his pocket, your faces cast in a mesmerizing and ghoulish blue. You fumbled with the cork and sipped the brew. Sweet with tartness on its heel, the flavor soon became overwhelming to the point where you couldn’t taste anything at all. It felt like it was…neutralizing your mouth. Mammon’s lips stuttered across yours, landing at the side of your nose before sinking down.

Once, twice, three times…

The space around you exploded with heat, your back and hair scraping along the wall as Mammon lifted you up. His arms were unexpectedly and deliciously corded, holding you in place. Holding you up for him. The kiss was very Mammon—clumsy and stumbling but determined, The Avatar of Greed’s confidence growing as he took everything.

A near-inaudible splintering noise registered at the edge of your conscience, second to Mammon’s breathy moan as he pressed into you. You swore you felt claws prick you; you arched into the white-haired devil. Mammon slowed his pace, the kiss turning languid instead of desperate. Purely indulgent, like he had all the time in the world with you. You started pushing on his shoulders, finding it hard to breathe.

Demons probably had bigger lungs or something. You took your hands from wherever they’d been—between your bodies? Around his shoulders?—and started to press against his face when the door rattled with a couple of knocks only Lucifer was capable of. Mammon’s lips dragged off of yours, seemingly reluctantly, when the door burst open. He put his arm above your head, casual as ever, and you wondered if it was to keep the light out of your face.

Mammon squinted against it, looking almost as dazed as you. Your eyes were still adjusting to the sudden change but you didn’t need much time to see him still staring at your lips. He set you down, letting the witch steal you from under his arm. The second-eldest fixed his sunglasses as he stepped out into the lit hallway, ignoring Lucifer (and the heat he felt creeping up his neck and ears). His horns retreated into the skin of his forehead, hair shifting to cover them as his wings folded with a leathery whisper.

Had you even noticed? Damn, he was stupid to get carried away like that! Did he regret it though? Mammon hardly regretted anything and wasn’t sure if this counted. Oh well, at least he could throw it down when any of his brothers annoyed him.

Blue sparks danced on your tongue, the inside of your mouth a pale blue.

“It worked,” she cupped your chin and patted your cheek like an old lady. It made you wonder how old she really was. “You’ve got twenty-four hours to eat whatever you want!”

Mammon took your hand and darted off to the kitchen, keen on avoiding as many of his brothers as possible. It would just eat up your time, he’d argue. He’d rather not hear Asmo whine, anyways. So there you sat in the House of Lamentation’s kitchen, Mammon’s secret stash of hell-sauce noodles piled between you. He showed you how to cook them and helped himself to a cup.

They were divine! Similar to a lot of human foods but with some kind of otherworldly decadence. Something that put the noodles above all else. And this was cheap for Devildom standards! You wondered if their high-end food had the same effect. Was it something only devil’s could taste? Why did Beel have such a craving for human food when stuff tasted THIS good?

Maybe everything they ate had hidden flavors or something. You literally had to have magic to eat this! Mammon laughed to the point of choking as you continued to stuff your cheeks and scarf the noodles down. It was so good! You could just eat and eat and…wait…when you kissed Mammon did you get some of his greediness?

This WAS his favorite food, after all. You just had to have one more bite. One more bite, one more bite, one more bite! your brain chanted and your taste buds begged the same. It got to a point where you could eat no more, too full to move and too full to regret anything. The great Mammon felt bad for your overindulgence and offered his knee to put your head on instead of the stone floor.

He found it strangely heartwarming that you could look so miserable and adorable at the same time. “You gonna make it, human?” he scraped the bowl for the last noodle, mouthed the sauce off the end of the chopstick, and poked you in the cheek.

“Yeah,” you nodded your head, holding your stomach. “Just full. Very full.”

You felt like you’d eaten enough for the next day. Long enough for the spell to wear off, at least. Mammon seemed to have the same thought, an amused and almost teasing grin on his face as he looked down at you. He held your head as he unfolded his legs, turned around, and laid down beside you. “You just let the great Mammon know when you want to do this again,” he tucked his arms under his head and adjusted his shoulders, “I’ll make time for you.”