#raphael in uniform

[journey-to-the-attic]

funny picture allsort :^) (reference photos below)

[susujelly]

Slowly turning into a mephisto fan acc

Thanks for loving the mephraph posts ^^

[lilirot]

RAD Uniform Raphael because it's only fair the last angel boy got one too

[scaewolf]

Made a 30 Minute Ambrosius and Kim Sketch to be of service for the Disco Elysium Fandom

Them Boys at an interrogation.

[sashimew-the-cat]

Self indulgent marching band raph! One verson with and without his mask (Click for better quality)

If the others were also in marching band, I think Mikey would play trombone, Leo clarinet, Casey would march tenors, and Donnie or April would play sousaphone or flute though I’m not sure who would play what

[alienducky]

Felix, why are you like this? Why do this to me?

That is 100% a different cut to the other two

Sigh

[devildomwriter]

They Find Your Oddly Specific Erotic Manga | Others X Reader

GN! Reader x Solomon, Simeon, Raphael, Mephistopheles, Barbatos, Diavolo | Warnings: Suggestive

Solomon

You groaned as Solomon set a heavy pile of books on the table in front of you.

“How many of those do you need me to read?”

“As many as possible.” He chuckled at your gloomy expression. “What, don’t you want to become more powerful?”

You nodded but sighed as you closed the book that actually entertained you, and placed it back on its shelf.

Solomon followed you with his eyes and noticed you’d rearranged your shelf from the last time he saw it.

“Oh, you organized it!” He exclaimed and grinned proudly. “Excellent. Now we can find space to put your new books.”

You blushed and shook your head, you didn’t need this man to find the books you strategically placed out of sight. If he read the title alone he’d never let you live it down.

“Ah, please don’t mess with those,” you pleaded but when he saw your shy expression he couldn’t help himself.

“Oh? What could my sweet apprentice be hiding from me?” He teased. “Don’t you know you should share everything with your master?”

He began looking over the books and even behind them.

You stood up quickly and outstretched your hand, reciting a spell you’d recently learned. “I call upon the earth itself to shackle the one who stands before me. Leave them bound and helpless. I am the sorcerer ___, obey me!”

Solomon looked shocked when shackles appeared from your bedroom floor and wrapped around him.

“Incredible! Job well done, ___.” He smiled but with a snap of his fingers, they dissipated. “Unfortunately I’ve long since mastered that spell, sorry. And now I’m more curious than ever what you could be hiding.”

You groaned and gave up, accepting your fate. You heard his chuckle and assumed he must’ve found the books you’d hidden. His laugh became louder and he wiped tears from his eyes.

“It’s no wonder you hid these!” He exclaimed, “These are oddly specific too, aren’t they?” He noted as you continued to hide your face.

“Virgin Witch,” he listed, “Master Sorcerer Is Obsessed With His Angelic Apprentice! That one’s relatable,” he admitted, making you blush further. “Oh I like the Looks of this one; Fighting Demons With My Handsome Master: I’ll Follow Him to the End of the World and into Bed! Oh, I wonder if you find that one relatable?” He prodded as he looked at your steaming face.

“You’re a jerk…” you mumbled and he laughed, unbothered.

“Ah, maybe I am? But I was going to find out eventually, right?” He shrugged and you finally looked up, brows furrowed angrily.

He shook his head, “Now what’s with that look? You’re the one reading these books.”

“Reading isn’t a crime.”

“Exactly! And that’s what I did just now, no?”

You sighed. There was no use arguing with someone given the title “Witty” by the master of time, Barbatos himself.

“Now that that’s in the open. How relatable do you find these to be?” He unbuttoned the top of his uniform and approached you with a wanton gaze, “…I’m dying to know. You’ll show me…won’t you?”

Simeon

Simeon sat on your bed, reading with you. You tried to meet up and have a relaxing day as often as you could. Given all the chaotic people in your life, it was nice to have company who didn’t need to talk to have fun with you. Simeon was content just being by your side.

He closed his book and sat up, petting your head before he got to his feet to shelve the book he’d just finished.

“Where did this one go again?”

“They’re categorized by genre,” you said, not looking away from your book.

He nodded and scanned the many shelves of books when his eyes crossed a peculiar title and he got a mischievous look in his eyes.

“____,” he questioned with an innocent smile, “what’s this?” He held up what was clearly an angel-based erotic manga.

You sat straight up, “oh shoot!” You exclaimed and he laughed and flipped through it.

“Can Angels Do This?” He read and noticed there were similar titles next to it.

You immediately regretted shelving the books by genre as he listed the other titles with amusement.

“Hell x Heaven…Heavenly Body…Angelic Whispers Bring Demons to Their Knees…Over-Cumming Writers Block…The Fallen Angel is Falling For Me!” He smirked, “that last one looks rather interesting…” he said with a curious gleam in his eyes.

You turned red and looked away, no longer focused on your book.

He walked over to you, book in hand. “I think I’ll read this one next,” he declared and you gave him a baffled look.

“W-What? Right next to me, too?” You stammered.

“Oh, are you embarrassed? Why would you be?” He grinned, knowing full well what he was doing.

He sat next to you on the bed again, closer than before, and began reading the erotica.

You couldn’t focus on your book and kept glancing to see what page he was on. He chuckled, stole your book, and set it aside.

“Wh— hey?” You complained but he laughed and scooted even closer to you.

“Hm? I’m sorry, I assumed you wanted to read this with me…that’s certainly what it looked like.”

You blushed and he continued to tease you, “Or were you staring at me for another reason?”

“No I-uh…um…” You hid your face in your hands and he frowned.

“I’m sorry did I go too far?” He asked with his hand behind his neck and head tilted slightly to appear more innocent.

“Well, it’s hard not to stare at you, to begin with…” you mumbled and it was his turn to blush. “But now you’re reading…that.”

“Well, you read it too didn’t you?”

“Y-yes but that’s different.”

“How is it different? Were you ashamed? Could that be because you bought this oddly specific manga with someone in mind?”

He knew he nailed it when you turned deep red and he pushed the hair out of your overheated face.

“Oh…so that is it, isn’t it?” He mused and when you met his eyes he couldn’t help but ask, “Wouldn’t you prefer a real angel over your books?”

Raphael

Raphael was an observant man. Almost too observant because he hadn’t been in your room for long when he noticed part of your bookshelf was hidden by framed pictures of you and your Devildom friends.

He couldn’t focus on the puzzle you’d invited him over for, and kept glancing at the shelf until you noticed his foot was quickly tapping on the floor, giving away his curiosity.

“Raphael? Is everything okay?” You asked, hoping he wouldn’t pry any further about the bookshelf.

“The bookshelf.” He stated, and you sighed. He titled his head curiously.

“Oh…those are just books an angel shouldn’t be looking at…” you admitted, hoping that would be the end of it, or he’d stop at a light scolding.

He gave you a look that made it clear he wasn’t just disappointed in your taste in books, but more so that you tried hiding it from him.

“I’m aware humans like that kind of thing. Why did you feel you needed to hide it from me?” He asked with a frown.

“Because I knew you’d give me your disappointed look.”

“Am I that predictable?” He asked and you nodded.

He appeared to be thinking it over and then abruptly stood up to investigate the shelf further. He understood you must mean books with inappropriate material but he wanted to be certain you didn’t mean demon-worshipping books as that was also something angels shouldn’t be reading.

You put your face in your hands and groaned. Nothing would stop Raphael and you weren’t looking forward to the scolding.

As expected there was a stunned silence from him for a minute before he turned to you, brows furrowed and placing a stack of books in front of you.

He sat back down facing you as if he were about to begin an interrogation.

“Cotton Candy My Angel…” he began listing. “Beastly Angel… The Words of an Angel Who Came From Heaven… I Want the Angel to Use His Spear on Me!” He looked puzzled by the last one and mumbled, “That’s oddly specific…”

You blushed and nodded. “Okay…you found the secret stash…let’s continue the puzzle.”

He didn’t drop it, as expected. “You understand angels can’t do this sort of thing with humans?” He questioned and you nodded but then shrugged.

“Well…I’m not technically human, am I?”

A nearly unnoticeable blush crossed his face and he remained silent, deciding how to respond to that. “Angels…don’t really do that with each other either…”

“As far as you know.”

“What?” His confused face made you chuckle. It was almost too cute for words.

“I said what I said.”

“What are you implying? What sort of things are you imagining?” He prodded.

You shrugged again, “I don’t know…what do you think I’m implying, Seraphim Raphael…”

His blush was now very noticeable as he stood up and put the books back on the shelf. He sat back in front of you and quickly began messing with the puzzle pieces.

Every so often you tapped his foot with yours and his blush would increase. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to ignore it for much longer.

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles looked around your room curiously. You’d invited him over to talk with you as he’d long been interested in interviewing the exchange student who’d made such a big splash in the Devildom and was particularly close to his idol, Lord Diavolo.

He looked at the tree and the lights you’d hung around it. He looked at the coffin-shaped bookshelf and the books on it when he noticed some were hidden behind the rest.

He glanced at the door to make sure you weren’t about to walk in and quickly walked to the bookshelf.

The books in front were normal, or at least normal for someone who’s just had the existence of demons confirmed to them.

Books like Paradise Lost, The Book of Enough, and the Screwtape Letters made him roll his eyes. He also observed the collection of magic books.

“They’ve gotten pretty far in their studies already…” he mumbled when you walked into the room with the tray of tea, iced water, and a giant pot of sugar for Mephistopheles to sweeten his tea as much as he liked.

He grinned and straightened up.

“Oh! Looking at my books?” You beamed and walked over to show him in more detail.

He nodded, glancing at the ones in the back. As you bent over to show him some on the bottom shelf he noticed the first part of a title and immediately took interest, pulling it out.

“Hm?” He hummed before turning red and trying to hide the book quickly before you noticed but instead, he knocked most of the books over.

He quickly used his body to shield you as the top shelf came out of place and fell.

“Ack!” You gasped in surprise, pinned beneath Mephistopheles who was bright red.

“Thank you!” You said, scooting away from him. “Why are you so red?” You questioned when you noticed your secret book stash all around you.

“I-uh-um—“ Mephistopheles stuttered looking around at the titles.

You blushed but decided to tease him. “What? Like you don’t have anything similar?”

He straightened his collar and began reading the titles since it appeared to him you didn’t mind.

“Reincarnated as the Villain: An Archdemon Fell in Love With Me…The Wealthiest Demon in the Land Bought Me!… The Lustful Whims of the Rich Demon Noble…” he eyed you, both of your faces red. “These are rather specific…though I suppose it means you aren’t afraid of us, which is…” he lost his train of thought, unable to focus as he rightfully assumed you had a thing for rich demons and had invited him to your room.

“Er-um…” he stuttered looking at you.

“Wh-Why don’t we proceed to the interview…the tea is getting cold too…” you suggested, desperate to fill the silence.

He nodded and looked away nervously, “Did you really invite me here…for an interview?” He questioned and you turned an even deeper shade of red.

“If so…then yes, let us proceed. If not…then what exactly did you have in mind? I suppose I could indulge you…as long as it remains a secret.”

Barbatos

“Oh my,” you hear Barbato’s chuckle as he helps tidy your room.

You were bent over a stack of old notebooks you found when you turned around and your eyes widened in horror.

He was looking at your forbidden bookshelf! You forgot he mentioned he was going to dust every surface in the room. Of course, that also meant the books you hid behind the more innocent ones.

Barbatos gave you an amused look and showed you the manga in his hand as you tried to stutter an excuse.

“My, my ___. Is this the sort of thing you like?”

“I-uh—“ Before you could answer him he began to pull each book out and setting them in a small pile on your desk.

“The Sadistic Butler…I Want to Train You and Break You: Black Butler’s Sadistic Service…” You turned redder as he read every title. Barbatos was the last person you needed to see these.

He continued, the amusement in his voice more evident with each title he read, “Lady and the Butler, Would You Care for a Butler?, The Sinful Evening Affair With a Butler…” he smiled at you, chuckling to himself. When he saw how flushed you were he bowed his head apologetically.

“My apologies, ___. I didn’t mean to be invasive,” he paused and tilted his head. “I do wonder though…did you start reading things like this before or after meeting me…?”

You blushed but gave him an honest answer. “uh…I’ve kinda always had a thing for butlers…and demons…”

His smile widened, “Oh?”

“B-But I didn’t start collecting until more recently…I guess?” You couldn’t meet his eyes. You were shocked with yourself you were admitting this and anxious about his reaction.

Barbatos instead finished dusting the shelf and your heart sank. No reaction was worse than anything at all.

“Um…” you said fidgeting, unable to get back to cleaning up.

He glanced your way as he shelved your books again. This team he quickly glimpsed through one and his face turned a dark pink.

“Oh my…no wonder you turned so red?” He surmised and you hid your face.

He put the book back in its place, set down his duster, and approached you as you sat at the end of your bed.

You looked up as he placed his hands on your shoulders. The look in his eyes was unfamiliar to you, a rare look across the demon’s face. His horns grew from his head and his tail from his spine, flicking back and forth.

“I think we’ve cleaned enough for now…how about I reward your hard work? I can take a guess as to what you’d most enjoy.” He said in a low voice, his hot breath against your ear.

You gave a small nod, and with your confirmation, he pushed you back into the bed.

Diavolo

It was bound to come out eventually, you just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Unfortunately for you, Diavolo was a very observant man so the moment he came into your room his eyes were scanning the premises.

“Make yourself at home,” you grinned and he nodded and thanked you.

You went to the kitchen quickly to grab some tea. Barbatos had taught you how to prepare it best for him.

When you recentered your room with tea you saw Diavolo stifling an amused laugh with a book in his hand.

You quickly set the tray of tea down and caught his attention.

“Oh, hehe, thank you,” he chuckled and instead of grabbing his tea, he went back to observing the books on your shelf.

That’s when you realize you made the grave mistake of not hiding the manga you most enjoyed.

“W-What’s so funny?” You asked nervously, knowing full well why he was so entertained.

“Oh, I’m just looking through to see what sort of manga you enjoy…I have to say it’s rather interesting…” he gave you a sly look and went back to laughing to himself.

He shelved the last book and skimmed over the rest.

“These always have such long titles…I honestly thought Levi was just describing the manga for the longest time, but it seems it’s like this in the human world too,” he noted.

He grinned, coming across another interesting title, “Ooh, what’s this one.”

You quickly darted to his side hoping he wouldn’t open up any of them. After all, they’d been wrapped when you bought them for a very good reason.

“Hey, uh-“ you quickly tried grabbing the manga but he held it over his head and laughed as you jumped to try and reach it, just to fall into his large chest.

Diavolo normally didn’t tease you to this degree so you knew he was very invested in this as he began reading aloud some of the titles on the shelf.

“Let’s see…oh here’s another good one! Reincarnated Into A Game World Where The Demon King Who Kidnapped Me Wants To Do Me All Night Long… oh look, this seems interesting too— The Reincarnated Saint Falls for the Demon Lord? When I Reincarnated I Was Doted on by the Demon King… oh look this one is even more to the point! Entwined at Twilight with a Demon: Again… And Again… He Can’t Be Stopped! AHAHAHAHA!” Diavolo’s laughter filled your room as you turned redder than his hair.

“___, I’m curious…you seem to have such a deep fascination with the ones involving Demon Kings in particular…” he grinned mischievously, “is there perhaps a reason for that?”

You blushed but wanted to fill the silence and blurted out what you were thinking before you fully realized what you were asked, “And if there was?”

He looks surprised for a moment but his eyes quickly glazed over with longing. “Then…maybe I’d have to do something about it, wouldn’t I?”

Your heart beat wildly as he set the book down and approached you with heavy steps.

“So, ___? Let’s say we bring one of your fascinating books to life?”

[ashtheketchum]

How they met you Bayverse TMNT

A/N: I kind of felt like writing something with the turtles again. :3 In my private time I have written a lot about them (especially about Donnie) and I could publish my stuff here :D (Picture from Pinterest!)

Warnings: Mention of weapons and violence

Part 2

__________________________________________

Leonardo (Strangers to Lovers):

On the night patrol, Leo had decided to split up a bit

On the roofs, he looked closely at the streets and alleys to ensure the safety of the city

At a traffic light, Leo saw you

You were standing next to an older lady and you were chatting with her as you helped her across the street

Your smile was gentle and loving as the older woman laughed with joy

Leo looked at the scenario for a while before you and the older woman walked across the street

When you were on the other side, you waved to the older lady and then continued on your way

Leo briefly looked after the older woman before following you over the rooftops

He followed you until you were at your apartment and put some food out for the street cats

With such a simple action you had Leo's full attention and he was happy that there were still people like you

He made it his own mission to take care of you

Raphael (Cinnamon roll and Guard dog):

Raphael spotted you while he was on patrol

You were backed into a corner and threatened with a gun. The thief wanted your valuables and all your money

Raphael immediately intervened by throwing his sai so that the weapon was knocked away by the thief

Then he grabbed a few bricks and threw them down to knock out the thief

The thief ran away while you still stared up to see your savior

Raph saw a dark corner where you couldn't see him and he jumped into it

"Give me back my weapons."

You had thrown them into the shadows as you silently looked in his direction

You thanked him several times before you stood up and tried to walk towards him, but Raph immediately growled loudly, making you jump back

"Can I meet you again?" you asked him

Raph just huffed before climbing up and leaving you alone

Donatello (Sexy sassy and timid nerd):

Donnie sometimes sneaked into famous universities (without Leo knowing) to see what it was like at a public university

He also saw you quite often during class

Donnie found you very interesting, even though you never really listened, didn't take notes, and never participated in class, you got good grades and got through every class

You were quite popular, with the boys and girls, but you had rejected everyone

One day Donnie had put his number in your bag, hoping he could get to know you better

He knew it was risky, but he wanted to try it. His brothers simply weren't allowed to know

Of course you found his number and called him immediately, but it was a video call

Donnie had always taped up his cameras, but it still scared him. Then he answered

You talked for a while and he had to spend a really long time proving that he didn't go to your university but was homeschooled

You had a good time and even became friends

Donnie found himself admiring you as you still had your camera on and sometimes smiled into it

Michelangelo (Aggressive chihuahua and calm giant):

Mikey had spotted you when it was Halloween and everyone was out celebrating

He snuck out and tried his luck at talking to you. He always got along well with his looks, including you

You had put on the Hogwarts uniform and even had a wand

Mikey complimented you and you had a very long conversation, which you both enjoyed

You told him that his costume looked incredibly realistic, to which he could only giggle nervously

"I've been working on it all year, little one."

His little nicknames for you always made you giggle and his heart fluttered every time he heard it

But when Mikey was whistled back by Leo, he staggered towards you in disappointment before disappearing into the crowd so that no one noticed him anymore

You were disappointed that he had to leave, just like Mikey was disappointed to leave

Since then, you came to the place where you met every day and Mikey saw you there all the time

But Leo had forbidden him to talk to you

[citruswriter]

Imagine Leos interest being like forcefully muzzled or something and Leo just coming in and kicking ass like a feral beast

Raphs interest would probably have to do something with de-clawing

Donnie’s interest would probably have something to do with tugging on the antenna

And mikeys interest would have something to do with clipping feathers

Being Rescued From Danger

Listen With Me! ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

A/N: Oh baby you have no idea what you just did.

Previous Part

Pain. That was the first thing you noticed. Pain coursing throughout your body. The next thing you noticed was the cold. It was so cold. "Wakey, wakey!" A sing song voice came. You flinched as somebody snapped their fingers in front of your face. Rubbing your eyes, you groggily attempted to gain your bearings as your surroundings came into view. It looked as if you were in a cell. "Welcome back to the land of the living, sweetheart!" You looked over to see... your ex. Your ex in a uniform. A Foot Clan uniform. "Dude what the fuck?" You groaned out and the person laughed. "You think you can just dump me for some freak and not be punished? Think again bitch." They growled. You swallowed in fear as you saw them raise a weapon. "You're mine."

Fingers flew as Donnie attempted to lock into your location. "There! A small abandoned warehouse!" Donnie said finally. "Let's move out then!" Raph growled, he had been the first one to notice when your location suddenly went off the map. "Everybody gear up and move out!" Leo barked, already heading for the lair exit. "Please be ok..." Mikey muttered. They messed with the wrong person. When they got to the warehouse, the turtles cut down their enemies with ease. Adrenaline courses through their veins as they worked to get towards you. "In here guys!" Mikey called out, bringing attention to a locked room. Raph stepped forward and put his brute strength to good use, knocking the door down. As your ex attempted to escape, Leo picked them up and shoved them to a corner, "Going somewhere?" You were a sight to behold, bloodied and broken and- "Holy shit..." The words left Donatello with pure shock.

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

Leonardo x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a wolf neko, Reader has golden eyes, Reader has an ex boyfriend, caging, gags.

You had been stuffed into an incredibly small dog crate, a ball gag tightly strapped onto your head, and your wrists bound with ropes. Tears and saliva dripped off your face. You breathed heavily as you stared off into nothing, pupils blown wide. Leo called out your name, causing your eyes to snap over to him. You whimpered and squirmed, fresh tears falling down your face as you struggled. "Shhhh. Shhhh. Calm down. Let me get you out." Leo cooed, opening the crate. He helped you wiggle free before cutting your ropes with his kitana. Carefully, he unstrapped the gag and let it fall. As soon as it did, you began sucking in air greedily. Body shaking as you coughed and sobbed, Leo gently held you. "You're safe now, blossom. You're safe. I've got you now." You clung onto him as he picked you up. "Raphael". Leo's red banded brother looked over at him with a curious gaze. Leo looked down at your ex boyfriend coldly, usually Leo was all for turning criminals in or only roughing them up. He often had to stop his brother from committing a crime of his own. But no. Not this time. Looking into his brothers eyes he nodded. "Deal with him how you see fit. I don't care what you do to him." He spat. Raph grinned sadistically before turning to the trash before him.

Back at the lair, you were half way passed out on Leo's bed as he ran a damp rag over your forehead. "Leo..." You whispered and Leo got closer to you. "I'm here blossom." He soothed, one of his hands grabbing your own shaking hand that you held out in an effort to seek him out. "Thank you. For saving me." Leo brought your hand up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles as he felt his resolve begin to fall away. "Of course. I will never let anybody hurt you again. Never." He said, his tone shaky as tears welled up in his eyes. Your heart broke and you attempted to sit up, cradling his face in your hands. "Don't cry, Leo. Please." You cooed and he just stared up at you. "What if I had been too late? He could have killed you. (Y/N) I can't loose you." He choked out. "But he didn't. Because you found me. I'm safe. Because of you." You soothed, smiling softly. Leo placed his hands over yours, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm him. "Why don't you rest with me? Seems like we could both use it." You offered, already laying back, hand tugging his in an attempt to pull him with you.

Leo let himself be pulled, laying down beside you and holding you close to him. You both laid there as you began to drift off once again, the stress of the day catching up to you. But before you did, you felt Leo kiss your head. "I love you so much," was the last thing you heard before slipping off into slumber.

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

Raphael x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a cat neko, Reader has an ex girlfriend, nails being ripped off.

Your wrists were bound to the table, and your head laid on the cold metal. You sobbed silently, ears pinned back against your head. Your ex had ripped off all your nails, essentially declawing you in a way. Your body rolled with so much pain that you hadn't even realized that you had been saved until Raph was picking you up in his arms. "(Y/N)? Please talk to me." He begged, voice cracking. Slowly, you looked up at him in what seemed like delayed shock. "Raph?" You croaked, voice hoarse and frail. Raph's heart broke at seeing just how bad of a state you were in. "Fuck babydoll. I'm so sorry for not getting here sooner." He said, holding you close to him. You clung onto him, seeking out the heat that radiated off of him, splaying a hand over his chest and dragging it up til you found his neck. "Safe". Was all you whispered before closing your eyes. Raph looked down at you, pain gripping his heart so hard he thought his chest might burst. "Leo," he stared and his brother looked at him, "I know you're not one to deal with things my way... But I'm afraid if we don't, she may come back." Leo seemed to ponder his brother's words before nodding his head. "I believe you may be right. Take (Y/N) back to the lair. We will handle things here." He said and Raph nodded his head before walking off. As much as he'd love to deal with the little bitch himself, you needed him.

Waking up a few hours later, you found yourself tucked into Raph's bed. Your hands were bandaged and you had been changed into some clean underwear and one of his old t-shirts. You became aware of a heavy weight on your waist and you blinked several times, controlling your pupils to see in the dark. Raph's arm was wrapped around you in a possessive grip and he was sound asleep behind you, face buried into the nape if your neck. "Raphie?" You questioned and you wiggled to turn over in his grasp. The large turtle cracked his eyes open to look down at you. "Hey kitten," he rumbled softly, hand finding the small of your back to rub circles. "What happened?" You asked and Raph hummed softly in thought, thinking about his words before replying. "Your ex hurt you. Ripped out your fingernails, but don' worry. Donnie bandaged them. I called April over to clean you up and change you. I hope that was ok." You nodded and nuzzled up into him. "Fuck that shit was so scary," you breathed out in a shaky tone, tail creeping up to wrap its way around Raph's arm.

"Yeah but I saved you. Don't worry, kitten. I'll never let anybody hurt you again." He murmured, nuzzling his snout into your scalp and breathing your scent in. "Do you care if I go back to sleep?" You asked gently and Raph chuckled softly. "Not at all, doll. Rest as long as you need. I'll be here when you wake up." He replied. Seeing him be so soft was certainly an experience but you wouldn't be lying if you said you enjoyed seeing him be so soft with you. Purring softly you drifted off, ear flicking as you heard a voice say, "I don't know what I'd do without you, my love".

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Donatello x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a moth mutant, Reader had an ex-girlfriend, damaged wings.

It took all of his brothers to prevent Donnie from just ripping this girl's head off. Donnie was most likely the least confrontational between all of his brothers, but when he was angry he was an unstoppable force. "What the hell have you done?!" He yelled at the girl and she coward in fear. Squeaking, you looked up from your spot on the floor. "Donnie?" You whispered. "Donatello!" Leo called out, causing his enraged brother to snap his attention to him. "(Y/N) needs you. You let us deal with this trash." Donnie sighed and looked over at you. You squinted your eyes, trying so hard to see as your moved your antenna around in an attempt to pinpoint Donnie's scent. Pulling yourself up to your knees, you reached your hands out as if attempting to reach him. The purple terrapin nodded before approaching you, touching your hands to let you know he was there before picking you up by your arms and holding you as one would with a small child. You sighed in relief, arms wrapping around his neck. "You found me..." You sighed out. Donnie winced, looking down at you torn wing. "Your wings." He said softly and you hummed. "They'll heal. Eventually." You muttered back. "Can we go home now?" You asked. Home. You called the lair home. Donnie nodded, stroking your hair and kissing your temple. "Of course, dearest." He replied. As he passed by his brothers, Raph and Leo nodded to him, silently telling him that your ex would no longer be a problem.

"You wanna change at all?" Donnie asked as he set you down on his bed and you nodded before going to take your clothes off. Donnie took out some fresh clothes of yours that you kept stored in his room, handing them over to you before looking away as to not invade your privacy. Rustling and hisses of pain could be heard before you let out a moth squeak. "M good now." You said softly before laying on your stomach. Donnie began to take off his gear and gently set it aside. "Mind if I join you for some rest?" He asked, wanting to respect your space. You cracked your eyes open to look at him and squeak again. "Please do. I could use the company". You replied, causing him to smile softly and crawl in beside you. "How long do you think it'll take for your wings to heal?" He asked softly, wrapping his arms around you. You tilted your head up to look at him, humming in thought before responding. "Few months probably. Takes awhile." You answered, cuddling up to him.

"Maybe you could... maybe you could stay here until it's fully healed? So I can keep an eye on it?" He asked, tone almost begging. He needed you here. Needed to make sure you were safe. You nuzzled into him, relaxing into his frame. "I certainly wouldn't mind. I feel safe enough with you." You murmured out. Donnie let out a soft churr at your words, a noise that made you grin. "We can discuss it more later though. Rest now." He said gently. As you began to drift off, you felt soft tapping on your thigh with the hand he had curled around it. A message he didn't know you could understand was received and you couldn't help but smile. I love you, my dove.

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

Michaelangelo x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader has white feathered wings, Reader has long elf-like ears, chained up, damaged wings, this one is prolly the most gruesome, reader has an ex-boyfriend.

Mikey almost cried on the spot from what he saw. You were on your knees but your body was being held up by chains. Two chains around your wrists that kept your arms up and two chains around your wings that kept them up and spread out. It took Mikey getting closer to realize that they weren't around your wings but were in fact going through them. Mikey choked back a sob in utter horror. "Mikey?" You muttered as you lifted your head, blood and tears dripping down your face. "Mikey." You said his name again but it came out as a whine this time. "Mikey it hurts. It hurts so bad." You sobbed. "Shhhh. It's ok, I'm gonna get you outta this. But it's gonna hurt first ok?" He said, voice shaking as he called Donnie over to help release you. As Donnie worked on your chains, Mikey cradled your face, softly praising you as you gritted through the pain that raged through your body. As soon as you were free, you immediately collapsed into his arms. He wasted no time picking you up and carrying out of the warehouse. "It hurts. It hurts so bad," you babbled out to him. "Shhhh. I know, baby. I know. It's ok. I've got you now." He soothed, placing a kiss on your forehead as you clung onto him.

Back at the lair, he took great care cleaning you up and tending to your injuries. You were so exhausted from all the pain that you didn't even fight, just let him move you however he wanted. A few hours later and the pain had dulled and you were in clean underwear and one of Mikey's spare hoodies. "I'm so sorry for not getting there sooner." Mikey whispered, holding you close as you straddled his lap. You sighed in comfort, ears drooped low as you breathed his scent in. "Mikey you got there as soon as you could." You murmured, pulling back to cradle his face. "My wings will heal. My body will heal. I will heal. You did the best you could." Mikey gently grasped your hips. "(Y/N) you don't understand. Seeing you just hanging there, chained up and bloody, barely conscious. I thought I was going to lose you." He said, voice shaking with such immense emotion. "But you didn't. I'm safe now. Thanks to you." You cooed, snuggling back into the crook of his neck. "Now shut up and hold me."

Mikey couldn't help but laugh softly at you, holding you close and kissing your head again. You hummed softly and settled into him, allowing yourself to drift. "The things you do to me, my love". His muffled voice was the last thing you heard before you succumbed to slumber.

I wrote this at 3AM and I have no regerts. Fight me hoes.

[postmoe]

Obey Me! Student Council Pet Reader

im just feeling some obey me yanno. non-con, sharing, dub-con, female reader for the end part, pet darling, demons being pervy, cum eating, idolisation, humiliation

.

imagine though that you're the pet of the student council. You had to go through all these trials and such for a seat at the table, or more so, beneath the table and tending to the members.

Ha! You really thought a mere human could be on par with literal demons? You're funny.

Most meetings start with everyone filing in as you're done servicing someone, usually Diavolo or Lucifer. On the bright side, it is very rare anyone misses them anymore!

Barbatos helps prepare tea for everyone, and you're dressed in maid rendition of the school uniform to serve everyone as they talk.

"How about you, (Y/n)? Any ideas for the upcoming festival?" Diavolo will still include you in decisions and such, he thinks your ideas are cute and likes to watch you stammer.

Good luck getting a full sentence out without someone cutting in with something snarky or cooing. "Uhm... Maybe we could have a fairy floss machine that creates different moulds- aaHh~"

Mammon snickers, the control in his hand turned up as the vibrator inside you goes hard. Various games and good behaviour can get them to be in charge of you, to 'play' with you during meetings.

On one of the boards is a star chart and when a member gets fifteen stars for good behaviour or doing something that helps RAD, they get to have you all meeting.

Oh and don't think you can't participate during the meetings because punishments aren't fun. You can try and skip meetings but they can find you easily, especially when there's magic involved. Hiding in a corner won't work either. You better engage with everyone.

One form of punishment had you tied tightly and kneeling on the council table, gagged and blindfolded and exposed for everyone to probe and ogle. By the end you were a crying, wet mess.

Then there are the public punishments, being walked around the school on a leash, only allowed to bark or meow when someone talks to you. Do tricks and obey, don't you dare bite back or they'll make you piss like a male dog in front of everyone again.

You're treated much nicer when you follow their rules. Don't be so uptight, though, a little bratty behaviour is fun! Just... Judge their reactions carefully because if someone isn't in the mood then...

You go between HoL and the Demon Lord's Castle, shared amongst everyone. How caring they are to share you.

It's not just the council though, their friends get some taste as well. Solomon, Simeon, Raphael...

...

Mephistopheles swallows thickly as he stands outside the barely open door to the student council room. His cock is throbbing as all he can hear is the schlicking sound of your pussy getting fucked. The question of 'by who?' is soon answered when his most revered idol speaks.

"You're doing so well, my pet. Just a little more," Lord Diavolo groans, and only Mephisto's mind can fill in the gaps as he dares not disturb him, even though he was personally asked to come here.

A few more sounds, yours and Lord Diavolo's long, drawn out moans, and then only panting remains when he realises that his cock is starting to hurt from all this auditory stimulation. Surely, he cannot go in in this state? He must relieve himself quickly before-

"Mephistopheles, you may enter!" Lord Diavolo calls from inside, his cheery voice making the demon visibly cringe at the state he was currently in.

The sight before him, oh dear lord. Barbatos is standing to the side of his master whose cock was still currently inside your hole. Your fucked out, skin tinged with a flush and sweat dripping down your forehead. Lord Diavolo has just finished tying your hands behind your back before he holds his hand out towards Barbatos.

Barbatos gives him a sex plug, to which he uses to plug his cum inside you once he removes himself. With a large smile, he beckons Mephisto forward, "Your most recent article was magnificent! It really captured the work we are trying to do here at RAD, we even got some wonderful reviews from the Reaper and Vampire society."

Mephisto barely looks at you, though his eyes dart to the trickle of white down your thighs, "Th-Thank you, Lord Diavolo. It's an honour to hear you say that."

His king laughs merrily, and then, he holds you out towards the reporter, "A gift, Mephistopheles. You may use (Y/n) for the rest of the afternoon. Lucifer will come to collect her by sundown."

This was... He was allowing HIM of all demons to play with his precious pet?! And not just that, but, you were still full of his majesty's ejaculate! "I- I mean-," he was wordless, is this all a dream?

As he robotically takes your tired form into his arms, Barbatos speaks, "Of course, please do be gentle with our human. You may do as you like as long as you don't harm her or mark her in any way. Of course, a few finger prints won't be an issue. Please make sure they are shallow enough so they disappear within the night. It is a great privilege my master has bestowed upon you."

Mephisto bows with you in his arms, holding you like the delicate prize you are, "Absolutely! Thank you so much, Lord Diavolo! I will treat her with the utmost care."

"That's more like it," he encourages his enthusiasm, "Now go and have fun!"

.

Mephisto is shaking by the time he reaches the Newspaper Club's room. It's just he and you, now, your arms tied neatly like a gift. He sits you gently on the coffee table and takes a seat on the lounge in front of you.

You have found your voice now as you regard him, "Mephisto. Why did you accept this, I thought you hated me?"

He scoffs, his fingers intertwined as he rests his hands at his mouth, "Your existence is inconvenient but... Fuck. Look at you. Covered in Lord Diavolo's scent."

"Ah, I see," you breathe out, shifting in your spot, "Mephisto, I'm cold."

He hums, the only acknowledgement that he's heard you is when he stands to adjust the temperature in the room. The AC blares as it evens out, and though it's nice to feel the warmth, you're still startled by the heat of his large hands on your thighs. He spreads you open and kneels before you, poking at the bedazzled plug in your pussy. Carefully, he pulls the toy out and watches in amazement as you start to leak from the sheer amount of love his lord had bestowed upon you. Mephisto brings the plug to his nose and inhales, groaning at the strong scent it held.

He lifts your arse up a bit to prevent it all from escaping, though you already feel uncomfortable by the slimy essence dribbling out of your cunt. "This feels gross, can't you clean me up already?"

The glare he gives you is comparable to disgust, "Don't speak like that about Lord Diavolo's gift to you. You are the luckiest being in existence and you still dare to complain." He hoists your legs over his shoulders, bringing you forward so that his hot breath is over your pussy, "Though, I suppose I can tidy you up a bit."

His mouth is over your sensitive cunt in no time, open mouth kisses and tongue digging into your hole to scoop out his lord's cum. Tasting Lord Diavolo's cum. Eating his demon lord's cum out of his pet's hole-!

It's enough to make his wet his pants with his own orgasm, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he ruts his face against your hips and his pelvis into the edge of the table. You're writhing, his advance far more enjoyable than you'd care to admit. It takes a lot of effort for him to pull away, panting, "No, I must save some." He stands and unzips his pants, licking his now wet face and freeing his gooey, straining cock, "I want to feel what it's like to fuck you while he's still inside you, to mix our cum. Oh, do I dare? Am I worthy enough?"

Staring at you spread open for him, a gift from Lord Diavolo himself and still full of him, the resounding silence answers back, 'Yes.'

..

By the end of your time with Mephisto, he has you wiped down and in an oversized RAD coat from the lost and found. He regards Lucifer with a tight smile, handing you over to the Pride demon, "Aha, you'll see I took very good care of Lord Diavolo's pet. Not a mark in sight. She may even want to come back."

Lucifer carries you close to his chest, your slow breathing indicating how tired you are. You close your eyes and lean against him, his fingers moving stray hairs from your face, "I'll be the judge of that once Diavolo and I go over her during our bath together. After all, we will be staying at his castle tonight."

The jab was a direct hit to Mephisto, who spouted curses at the vice president as he proudly walked away. You nuzzled into the warmth his provided, sighing, "He was actually really nice to me... Sorta."

Lucifer smiles, a light chuckle rumbling through his chest, "Is that so? I'll just have to make up the difference then, won't I?"

[winged-demons-and-co]

An older demon knocked at the door as he held the demonling using magic. Leo seemed angry. He was in his school uniform

"I think we should talk" Gabi said as son as his boyfriend opened the door

- @dem0nstyle

“Ah, Gabi, hello,” Gabriel greeted, trying oh so desperately not to sound as flustered as he felt. But this visit likely had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Raphael’s actions

“Come in come in.”

[wynndigogh]

When you ask AI about the guys' festishes:

Sure! Let’s take another approach by delving deeper into how each Turtle’s personality could influence their specific romantic preferences or fetishes, keeping it character-driven and respectful.

Leonardo:

Personality: Leonardo is the disciplined, serious leader, often putting duty before his personal desires. He’s very much about control, responsibility, and being grounded.

Romantic Preferences/Fetishes: Leo might have a preference for control and structure in a relationship. He may be attracted to dynamics where he can maintain a sense of order and responsibility. He might also enjoy the concept of protection, taking on a guardian role, which could extend into romantic preferences where he feels responsible for his partner’s well-being.

Potential Fetish: A likely fetish for Leonardo could involve elements of authority or discipline, such as uniforms or a protective dynamic in which he takes charge, reflecting his natural leadership tendencies.

Michelangelo:

Personality: The most carefree and fun-loving of the group, Michelangelo is all about enjoyment, humor, and relaxation. He’s less concerned with responsibility and more focused on living in the moment.

Romantic Preferences/Fetishes: Mikey would likely be into playfulness and experimentation, always eager to have fun in a relationship. He’d enjoy partners who are adventurous, spontaneous, and willing to try new things. His interests would lean toward the lighthearted and sensual, where both he and his partner can feel free and unpressured.

Potential Fetish: Michelangelo might be into role-playing or costumes, reflecting his love for creativity, comic books, and fantasy. He could also have a strong interest in the playful, tactile aspects of intimacy, enjoying physical connection in a way that feels fun rather than overly serious.

Donatello:

Personality: The intellectual and inventor of the group, Donnie values intelligence and curiosity. He’s a deep thinker, often lost in his tech projects, and tends to be more introverted and shy about his feelings.

Romantic Preferences/Fetishes: Donatello would probably be attracted to someone who can engage his mind, stimulating him intellectually. He’d likely appreciate partners who are curious, logical, and willing to explore new ideas with him, particularly in the realm of science and technology.

Potential Fetish: Donnie might have a fascination with technology-based intimacy or even a curiosity toward things like virtual reality or cyber-themed aesthetics. His attraction to intelligence might lead him toward cerebral forms of connection, such as finding excitement in the mind-body connection or partners who challenge his intellect.

Raphael:

Personality: Raphael is intense, passionate, and emotionally complex. He hides a vulnerable side behind a tough exterior and struggles with expressing his feelings, often turning to physicality or anger instead.

Romantic Preferences/Fetishes: Raph would likely be drawn to power dynamics in relationships, where there is an element of tension or challenge. He may be attracted to partners who can stand up to him or push back when necessary, enjoying the emotional and physical interplay between strength and vulnerability.

Potential Fetish: Raphael could lean toward dominance and submission dynamics, where the power struggle is part of the excitement. He might find thrill in the intensity of both control and being challenged, reflecting his internal conflict and desire for emotional release. Raph could also be drawn to partners who enjoy physicality, whether through intense intimacy or shared combat training.

Summary of Fetishes:

Leo: Likely into authority, uniforms, and possibly a protective dominance dynamic.

Mikey: Enjoys playful role-playing, costumes, and tactile, fun-loving connections.

Donnie: Could have a tech-related fetish, perhaps involving virtual elements or an intellectual connection.

Raph: Might gravitate toward power dynamics, with a focus on intensity, challenge, and dominance.

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader | p. 6

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

September 1982 . . . again

Eddie doesn’t cry about his knuckles turning a blazing bright red right before his eyes. The bruise would fade in a week or two. When he sits back in his seat, he does think about just what got him here. How it felt good to crack his knuckles against Rod-pie’s face. The shock in his eyes when Eddie slammed him into a locker felt justified as soon as he heard the words ‘that chick?’ as if you were just any girl that he’s forgotten about.

It didn’t matter to him that he would be spending some time with the principal after he knocked Rusty into the hallway tile. Things began to change when he found you down the hall with your mouth agape, covered by your hand and terror stricken across your face. He’s never wanted you to be afraid of him.

Eddie didn’t get a chance to explain to you why he punched the boy who ditched you on Saturday night to party with some of the idiots from the basketball team. King Steve was hosting his infamous Saturday night kick backs, and Raphael just had to be there. He would have taken you, but by the way he had some blonde fluttering her lashes at him in the hallway - Eddie can only assume that he was less than interested in you.

So, he decked him.

Eddie isn’t a violent person by nature. This is the first time he’s ever sat outside of the principals office for something other than skipping class or smoking on the property. Smoking around school is such horse shit. Everyone does it. Eddie happens to be the special case that gets nagged at.

Day-in and day-out, someone always has a problem with Eddie. They hate the way his hair is grown out. They call it mangled. They hate the way he dresses. They call him dirty. They hate the way that he has an uncle to raise him and not a dad. They don’t really have a name for that, but they do like to ask where his dad is.

Most of them hear rumors from their preppy little parents. Eddie bets they treated his father just the same when he walked these halls. This town is so small that everything circulates into a huge impossible rumor mill.

It motivates Eddie to get out of this poisoned town. There’s nothing for him here. Well, nothing except Wayne . . . and you.

“Eddie,” the soft voice of the secretary brings him back to reality. She leans her head around the corner of the principals office. “He’s ready for you.”

Just as Eddie stands up to face the judge with his sentence already laid out in front of him, Uncle Wayne marches through the front office. Huffing and puffing like a mad man, Wayne beelines for his nephew. That gray uniform makes Eddie’s heart skip in his chest. Wayne has just come from a day of work. Now, Eddie begins to sweat.

Wayne was at work when his boss radioed him that there was an urgent call from Eddie’s school. It’s not as though Wayne is negligent. He knew Eddie hasn’t had the best time making friends or even getting along when he has school projects with another person in his class. Some people just don’t get along, and that’s fine. He’s met the few friends that Eddie has, and he imagines he spends most of his time with them.

Punching another student? Wayne isn’t about to let that behavior slide, and Eddie better have a good explanation as to what happened.

“Wayne-,”

Wayne’s nose flares as he holds a finger up to quiet Eddie, before he speaks.

“Sit,” Wayne points to the chair.

Eddie slumps back down like he’s a boy again. It’s going to have to sink in soon that he’ll be a man in the real world. All of this silliness in high school drama isn’t going to matter after he graduates.

The secretary shuts the door behind Wayne, which leaves him and Principal Higgins to have their conversation in private.

It’s peculiarly silent inside the office. A hum comes from the desk fan that Higgins has propped up against the stained oak. There’s two chairs sitting in front of the principal. Both are empty.

“You must be,” Principal Higgins hugs his spectacles when he reads Eddie’s name off of a piece of paper that’s atop of a neat stack of papers in an open envelope, “Wayne Munson - er - the uncle. . . not father?”

“I’m the rightful guardian of my boy,” Wayne puffs out his chest a bit.

“Right,” he speaks coolly, “we have much to discuss. Please, sit.”

Wayne chooses the chair to the right of the principal, so he doesn’t find himself hidden by all of the silly trinkets the man has organized across his desk. A plastic yellow bird diving for water catches Wayne’s eye. It’s the oddest item in the room. Stacks upon stacks of literature find a home on the bookshelves behind the principal. It’s behind Wayne that Higgins keeps all of the important files in cabinets that are locked tight.

Bitter coffee stinks up the air. It’s burnt. Wayne can almost taste it on his tongue.

“Your nephew, Eddie, finds himself in a lot of trouble,” Higgins comes off strong, and he doesn’t back down. “Do you know how far his grades are slipping?”

There’s times when Eddie struggles with a math problem or two, but surely that can’t affect his grades that much.

“Well-,”

“We’ve only just begun the year,” Higgins slides a piece of paper across the table that names Eddie’s grades. “He has F’s in all of his classes.”

Wayne swallows thickly. Boy, Eddie is in deep trouble at school. It isn’t just this year either. The sheet of paper also explicitly highlights all of the barely passing grades from the previous years, and he’s skipping classes?

“He has all year to pick them up, right?” Wayne crosses his fingers where the principal can’t see.

“It’s possible,” Higgins sits back again. “Can we talk seriously about Eddie’s violent outburst this morning?”

“Eddie has never been violent!” Wayne snaps.

Higgins raises one eyebrow, “I recall speaking to a student earlier, who says your boy attacked him.”

“Eddie wouldn’t hurt anybody without a reason, honestly.”

Higgins continues, “I hear a lot more than you would imagine, Mr. Munson. Maybe Eddie can enlighten you during his week long suspension why he feels he must act out his aggression.”

“A week?!”

“I would be grateful that the parents of the student were able to be reasoned out of calling the police,” Higgins returns to writing notes on a part of Eddie’s file. “You may go.”

Eddie tries to keep up with Wayne, as he zooms out of the office with great speed behind each stride. It’s surprising how angry Wayne has become. Eddie can’t recall his uncle being sour about a single thing. He wants to ask what happened inside the principals office, but he has a feeling that Wayne won’t talk until they’re in private.

Their shoes scuffling along the tile in the hallway keeps them from total silence. Classes are starting. Even with the door shut, Miss Smith’s shrieking tone carries through the classroom door. No one should be that passionate about mathematics.

Unbeknownst to him, you’re around the corner. You’ve skipped class just to wait for Eddie. Tears burn down your cheeks. As soon as you see that frizzy metal head pull around the corner, you’re a wrecking ball ready to hit your target.

“Eddie Munson!” You shout. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Eddie cringes at the harshness in your voice. Your face is beat red. Hot tears cloud your vision. It would be the perfect time for an explanation, if you would let him get a word in.

Wayne doesn’t budge. Out of the corner of Eddie’s eye, Wayne is just as shocked. You've never shouted like this before.

All Wayne knows is someone got hit, and now Wayne is catching a few hints about who that someone was.

“Oh, kid,” Wayne presses his temple with his fingers. “You didn’t.”

Wayne didn’t tell Eddie about Rodney, so that he could assault that boy. It looks a bit stupid now for him to have told Eddie anything about you being stood up. He didn’t know that it would escalate!

“Rodney got my address wrong,” that is a lie, but Eddie still doesn’t think this is the right time to add fuel to the fire. He chickens out and shrivels into himself, while you jab your finger into his chest. “He won’t even talk to me anymore and it’s your fault, Eddie!”

Wayne does try to step between you two when you begin to swing at his chest. You’re frustrated. It’s understandable. Frankly, Wayne is exhausted from work; and now, he has to deal with the thought of his nephew not graduating and Eddie’s suspended for punching some guy. The same guy, who has an interest in you.

Gareth tears through the school hearing all that noise from the men’s restroom, where he was enjoying a cigarette instead of listening to a boring lecture on the periodic table. When he heard the ruckus, he thought some poor sap was getting his head beat in again. It wouldn’t be the first time this morning, since Eddie knocked some guy on his ass.

Word travels fast around here.

After realizing the voice belongs to you, Gareth races to the rescue where he finds you screaming at Eddie for what he had done. Oh, boy.

Firstly, Gareth grabs hold of you from behind. He’s also terrified that in your angry rage, you might accidentally swing at Wayne.

“That’s enough!” Gareth wraps his hands around your wrists, before sinking you into a tight bear-like hold around your middle. “I’ve got her. You guys head out.”

Wayne nods his head to Gareth. It’s him that has become one of Wayne’s favorites of Eddie’s friends, aside from you - if he can call you Eddie’s friend anymore.

Eddie scrambles after Wayne again like a lost puppy when Wayne mutters something along the lines of;

“Does anyone actually go to class around here?”

Gareth is still holding onto you when they leave. You drive sharp breaths in and out of your lungs, while tears drip onto his shirt sleeve.

“Let’s go in here,” he helps you up, so he can bring you into an empty classroom where there wouldn't be as much of an audience.

It’s dimly lit.

Gareth snags tissues from the teacher’s desk. He rolls the chair around for you to sit down in. While you dry your eyes, Gareth leans his weight on the desk.

You’re boiling for answers. Rodney can be a nice guy. The way he dresses isn’t offensive. He lays his hair down with a comb he has nestled in his pocket at all times. There’s no loose threads on his clothing. He’s got a well-enough smile that’s glossy and wide.

“Rodney won’t talk to me,” you ball up a damp tissue between your fingers.

Gareth scoffs, “good. He’s a douche.”

“He is not,” you frown.

“He’s a bit too,” how could he say this? “Clean?”

“He’s too clean?” You roll your eyes at him. “Eddie punched Rodney because he’s too clean?”

“Eddie punched Rodney?” He hold his belly, while laughter flows from his mouth. “Oh, man! I would have loved to have seen that. Er-”

You’re stone cold. Tearing apart that Kleenex, Gareth takes this as a warning and he zips his mouth shut.

Neither of you want to mention it, but this is the first time you’re alone together; and, the first time that neither of you want to kill each other. You’ve never held malice against Gareth. It’s been the opposite. Gareth has his reserves about you. If they’re fair or unjust, he would never let you know that.

Gareth notices you’ve painted your nails with a pretty lilac color. It matches with the rings you have accessorized across your fingers. His heart sinks seeing how red he’s caused your wrists to go.

“Sorry,” it comes out of Gareth’s mouth without much thought.

You trace his eye-line back your wrists, “oh, I’m fine.”

“Does it hurt?” Gareth grows nearer, as he takes your hand to trace over the bruising skin. “Should I get you some ice or something?”

You’re taken aback by the way his curls drape over his forehead. His hair is so full like a wig. Freckles dance across his nose and underneath his eyes. His skin is still soft like a child, and he has hardly any of that bothersome acne scratching up his face.

Gareth doesn’t pay attention to you studying the way his smile line makes an indent into his cheeks, until he catches your eye quite close to his. Your puffy eyes stare back at him, as he searches you curiously for answers. An eyelash rests on your cheek bone, and Gareth boldly brushes it away with his thumb. Your skin is velvety under his touch.

“Uh-,” Gareth’s voice cracks, “do you want to go somewhere?”

You nod your head eagerly wanting nothing to do with this school today.

“Come on,” he says, “I know somewhere we can blow off a bit of that anger.”

-> <-

Eddie shuts the door after Wayne, waiting for the yelling to begin. It never comes. In fact, Wayne purposely takes a big show of calming himself down. Taking a few deep breathes at first, his uncle then cranks his head in one big circle.

“Sit,”

That would be thrice that someone has told Eddie to sit down today. Although he wants to make a joke, that would be most inappropriate. He does sit among the stack of bills that have grown tall enough to tip over and to spill over the couch.

“Eddie,” Wayne huffs, “please tell me what happened.”

Finally, a chance to tell his side of things. He was beginning to believe that everyone was against him here. Watching Wayne soften his posture, Eddie opens his mouth,

“Yeah, I hit him.”

Great job, Eddie. Everyone knows that. The words he wants to say fizzle out on his tongue like water to a flame. He could have said that he hit him because he wants to protect you like his little sibling. But, that word implies something he doesn’t want it too. He can’t figure you out. Especially, since you decided to date that slime ball.

Eddie knows better than to hit another person unless he has too. It just came out of him. The way that Robert dismisses you with the flick of his wrist sent him over the edge. You’re not just anyone - you’re someone.

“Why did you hit him?” Wayne wants to know.

Eddie wants to know too, and he licks his drying lips.

“Alright,” his uncle paces before him. “Whatever the reason, you’re suspended for a week-,”

“What?!”

“And, I want you to pick up around here,” Wayne gestures to the stack of mess surrounding them. Specifically, he wants Eddie’s bedroom clean. Even Wayne knows that can’t happen in a week. He just wants him busy, and he wants to keep his nephew’s head on planet earth. “Keep up with your school work. I mean it. Your principal is threatening to keep you another year if you don’t pick up those grades.”

That might not be exactly what Principal Higgins had said, but it sure sounded like that when he sat across that vile venomous viper of a man.

“Eddie, I’m very disappointed in you,” his uncle scolds. “Have I taught you nothing? You cannot use violence to solve your problems.”

“Wayne,” Eddie says sorrowfully, “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” he plants his hands on his hips, “I want you to apologize to your friend, and to that boy.”

Apologize-,” Wayne shoots Eddie a stern look. “Alright, Wayne.”

“Go to your room,” his uncle commands.

Eddie has never ever disappointed his uncle like this. There have been a number of times that Eddie can recall some close moments. He tried to take the van out for a spin when he was fourteen without a license, but it stalled. Wayne repeatedly told Eddie he could have been hurt, and he’s just glad that he’s alright. Or, the many times he snuck out past curfew just to look at the lake behind the trailer park in the moonlight. He loves the way the ripples move and dance when he wades through the water. Of course, Wayne snatched him by his collar a few years ago about midnight. He told Eddie that he could drown and that no one would know where he was. He also said that someone else could snatch him up by the back of his neck.

Who would want to kidnap Eddie? He’s a screwup just like his father. Eddie hadn’t been to prison yet, but he might as well fall in line. Maybe his daddy could be his cell mate.

Eddie had gone back to his room and stripped himself of his shoes and his jacket. Instead of tossing them aside, he folds it in half and in half again and then sets it atop of his dresser. His shoes would fit in the small space under his bed. Tidying up, he begins to form a pile for his dirty laundry to be in, rather than leaving his shirts and pants strewn across the floor.

Eddie’s real lucky. He does know this. If it weren’t for Wayne, he would be slumming it with people who would probably give him back to the agency in a week. That is if he wasn’t stuck in foster homes. No, Wayne’s treated him good. He even gave Eddie the large bedroom in the trailer.

“Boy’s got to have a bedroom,” he had said.

Wayne slept on a fold-out-bed in the living room. When he was too tired, Eddie would catch him curled over the couch.

Eddie decides then he has something to prove. If not for Wayne, then for himself. This whole town knows the story of Al Munson, the lowlife and drug addicted man, who just couldn’t get clean enough to take care of his son. But, they don’t know Eddie - the determined offspring. That sounded better in his head. The point is that Eddie Munson will graduate. He’s going to be a success, and, with the help of his buddies and their band, he’s also going to be a rockstar!

-> <-

Gareth has snuck off of the school grounds before. He knew all of the spots where teachers laid in wait to snag anyone, who was willing to punch out of school early. Lucky for you, Gareth also knew how to get around them.

He took you down a long windy route through a busy classroom that hardly noticed you’re there.

“Shop,” he told you, while flicking a piece of shavings from your shoulder.

From there, Gareth sneaks you out of the school with him. A rush kicks in that you’re doing something that you’re not supposed to be doing. Robin would miss you. She waits for you to come out of biology, so she can walk you to lunch.

Biology before lunch is no picnic, and you really wish that the school wouldn’t permit it. You might say the same for chemistry, or gym. Actually, a math class or an English class feel the safest to have before lunch. You don’t have to touch anything, but a book. And, you’re not grossly sweaty.

All this thinking, and you’re not watching where you’re going. Gareth is leading you across the street. The neon orange 'ARCADE' sign swings in circles high above your heads. Although it’s unlit, it’s not unnoticeable.

Palace Arcade is somewhere you pass by after school on your way home. You’ve never actually been inside.

All the noise hits your ears when Gareth opens the door for you. A surprising number of people crowd the arcade games. Does everyone come here when they skip class?

A droopy eyed employee ignores them to suck on a soda through a red straw. It doesn’t bother him that a bunch of teenagers show up in the middle of the day to play games.

“Trust me, he doesn’t care.”

You must have been staring a bit too hard at the man for Gareth to make a comment.

“Jeff!” Gareth catches his friend in front of the game Dig Dug. He eggs you to catch up.

Jeff is in the band with Eddie and Gareth. He plays guitar. Otherwise, you don’t know much about Jeff. Well, he certainly likes playing video games. After Gareth distracts him, you can read that the highest score belongs to Jeff.

“You’re good at this game,” you say.

Jeff jolts. Gareth usually comes alone, or with Eddie trailing behind him. It’s never occurred to him that you might come someday. You’re not one to skip class, or at least that’s what Eddie tells him.

“Hey, little miss,” his nicknames for you are sweet. “What are you doing around here? Where’s Eddie?”

Your smile falters.

“Let’s talk later,” Gareth warns Jeff, who catches the hint.

Jeff moves away from the game, “let’s see what you got.”

“Me?” You point to yourself.

Video games aren’t your thing. You’ve never even tried before. School work keeps you busy, and your mom has a strict ‘no fun’ policy around the house. It’s honestly been enough work just to keep track of her whereabouts lately that you don’t even have time for yourself outside of school.

“Come on,” Jeff taps your shoulder. “I’ll show you.”

Well, you’re not good at video games. You don’t even make the scoreboard when Jeff finishes teaching you how to move the little character left and right. Jeff and Gareth are standing on either side of you. They cheer you on as your character dies yet again.

“I suck,” you slouch.

Gareth clicks his teeth, “maybe you’ve got the wrong game. Let’s try something over there.”

Mrs. Pac-Man is open. You like the look of her little bow atop her head. The console is pink. That might be more your speed!

When you walk away, you expect the boys to follow behind you. You don’t notice when Jeff yanks Gareth to the side.

“What are you doing?” Jeff grills Gareth.

Gareth shakes his head, “I have no idea what you mean.”

“That’s Eddie’s girl,” he shouldn’t have to say out loud how untouchable you are. All the boys in the band know this. “You can’t go messing around with her, man.”

“She’s not a trophy,” Gareth already knows what Jeff is trying to imply. Aside from the falseness in his accusations, Gareth doesn’t very much like how you’re being spoken about like a prize - like an object. “She’s a person.”

Jeff cocks his head to Gareth’s simple little brain. Obviously, that is not what Jeff means. You’re attached to Eddie at the hip. Anywhere he goes, you go too. Your friendship isn’t a silly little thing that will fade out over time. Those two grew up together. There’s a bond between them that no one else will understand.

Gareth better not screw this up.

“Look,” Gareth says when you’re out of earshot. “Eddie sucker punched that kid, Rodney.”

“Rodney?!” Jeff knew the kid.

Gareth waves his hands like a wild man trying to get Jeff to lower his voice, then says, “she’s really upset right now.”

This is worse than he thought. Eddie knocks Rodney to the ground, but Gareth’s there to pick you back up? Jeff watches soap operas with his grandma, but man this is so much better. He chooses not to say anything more.

The chips will fall where they lay.

Rodney certainly did.

-> <-

[June 1983]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst

[emmg]

Ok but hear me out:

An AU, Sucker Punch style. It’s a mental asylum, but not the kind you ever wake up from or leave.

Raphael is the Director, Head Doctor, Superintendent—whatever you call the man in charge. But it's all fucking weird and wrong, like I said, Sucker Punch. He looks perfectly normal in his pristine doctor’s coat, but his shadow? Horns. Tail.

And Tav/You are there for some reason.

Throw in Asmodeus as the High Roller for good measure.

The other patients? Just that, patients. But they’re all dressed in debtor’s rags like they’re from the House of Hope. Except for you. You're different. And you don’t know why.

Looming over everything is the Elder Brain or the Absolute—an unspeakable horror that you do not disturb. Ever. They don’t even have to threaten you; you just know. Break the wrong rule, and it’s lights out—straight to the lobotomy room, where your thoughts go to die. There's warnings scribbled on the walls.

One moment, you’re scrubbing pans in a plain asylum uniform. The next, you’re in a psychiatric session with Dr. Raphael, perched on a balcony overlooking Avernus. You're wearing a dress spun from gold, and suddenly he has a tail again, asking you to pass the file so he can sharpen the tip of his horn. Have you been taking your pills, little mouse?

Time slips away. Reality blurs. One minute you’re a patient, the next you’re fucking the devil and he's telling you how there's nine levels to the facility, just like nine layers of hell. And you're not even sure you want to fuck him, but maybe you do, but maybe you don't after all, but maybe he's holding something over your head?

For some reason you're being asked to sign a contract. The contract can make it all go away. Why is a doctor handing you a contract? What use a doctor has for a contract, and why does he suddenly have claws?

The nightmare just keeps folding in on itself.

Honestly, I might just write this train wreck, lmao.

[hesawifebeaterdanusethegun]

Original Sin Chapter One - Honor Thy Father And Mother

“The great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him.” – Revelation 12:9

A cool breeze blew through the parking lot of St. Raphael the Archangel Catholic Church. It was September, and a chill was threatening to cut through the warmth of the sun in the clear blue sky. A very well-kept yellow 1980 Buick Regal pulled carefully into a reserved parking spot near the front of the church. The woman behind the wheel made sure to remember to hang the little blue placard with a stick figure in a wheelchair printed on it from her rearview mirror before opening her door and stepping out of the car. Chloe stood about 5’4”, just the slightest bit stocky, wearing ripped jeans and a flannel shirt over a faded black band t-shirt, her usual “uniform”. She was in her mid-30s at a guess, but seemed younger somehow, and not just because of how she dressed.

Chloe took off her Ray-Ban sunglasses revealing striking blue-green eyes, and hung them from the collar of her shirt, taking a deep breath and puffing her cheeks out as she exhaled before walking around to the passenger side of the car. She opened the back door, pulling out a folded wheelchair from the backseat. She set up the chair, locking the wheels in place so that it wouldn’t roll anywhere on the uneven, slightly slanted parking lot. She moved to the front door and pulled up the lever. Nothing happened. She looked through the window at her mother who sat scowling ahead while Chloe tried to get her attention by knocking on the window.

Eventually the older woman looked at her daughter. Janet had short, grey, curly hair, and wore a blue and white floral print housedress and entirely too much makeup on her aged face. Chloe had always secretly thought she looked like a circus clown as a child, but if the thought crossed her mind, she’d always been careful not to laugh, as her mother would inevitably ask her what was so funny. Chloe couldn’t lie, she’d never been able to, and she would have told her mother the truth, earning her who knows what sort of punishment, especially if her father were home and happened to overhear.

“You need to open the door,” Chloe said loudly, a little irritated. She wasn’t in the mood for her mother’s bitchy little games today. Her mother smiled and pulled up the lock on the door, allowing Chloe to swing it open. She offered an arm and her mother took it, using Chloe to steady herself as she got out of the car and hobbled the few steps to the wheelchair and sat down. Chloe’s mother had suffered a stroke a few months ago, and had had trouble getting around since, frequently falling when she attempted to do things on her own that she ought to get help for. After the third fall she’d suffered, Chloe had made up her mind to move back to her hometown from her apartment in New York City to help her parents and particularly to take care of her mother.

That had been three months ago. Chloe swung the passenger side door closed, trying not to slam it in her anger and only partially succeeding.

“You know what you’re wearing is completely inappropriate,” her mother griped at her. “I don’t know why you insist on embarrassing me every time we go out anywhere.”

“I’m wearing what I usually wear, mother, it’s fine,” Chloe told her through gritted teeth. They went through this every week.

“And you could have done something with your hair, make a little effort, dear,” continued her mother in a tone that indicated she thought she was doing Chloe a great favor by bestowing such wisdom on her. Chloe wished she could tell her to shove that wisdom up her ass. But she kept her mouth shut and nodded as her mother looked up at her from the chair, waiting for a response.

Chloe kept her hair in a dark brown shaggy pixie cut, not to make any kind of fashion statement, more because she couldn’t stand when her hair got in her way or held her up when getting ready in the morning. She’d had it cut this way since she was old enough to choose her own haircut, with very little variation. She ran her fingers through it now before putting her hands back on the handles of the wheelchair. Chloe continued pushing the chair up the sidewalk to the front doors of the church, which were propped open, saving Chloe the struggle of getting her mother to push the chair through the door on her own without making too much of a dramatic spectacle of herself. They’d been propped open every Sunday since the second week she’d brought her mother to mass, when Father Joseph had introduced himself and held open the door for them. She’d thanked him with relief on her face. The following week and every week after, regardless of the weather (it rained here quite a bit), the doors had been propped open when they got there, she suspected at the direction of Father Joseph.

She took her mother into the church, dipping two fingers into the small bowl of holy water at the door and making the sign of the cross, her mother doing the same. They took their usual spots in the back corner pew, Chloe on the end seat and her mother’s chair next to her on the deep red carpet of the aisle. Father Joseph took his place at the pulpit, delivering a sermon that Chloe admittedly barely heard a word of. She may as well have been drooling while she watched Father Joseph speak. She knew this was stupid. She was too old for stupid crushes, and on a priest no less. But she couldn’t help it. She felt a little tug inside her towards him every time they were near each other. He was about six feet tall; with short thick dark hair and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. She almost lost her breath when she first met those eyes and hadn’t stopped thinking about him since.

Father Joseph stood at the head of the church, ready to speak, but he hesitated. He scanned the crowd filling the pews quickly, his eyes flicking to the back corner of the room. She was there. He nearly sighed in relief. Father Joseph looked forward to seeing Chloe, for he’d found that was her name the Sunday morning they met, when he’d helped her and her mother through the front doors of the church. Every Sunday, their short talks after mass as the assembled parishioners were leaving the building were one of the highlights of his week. They left him in a good mood for the rest of the day.

After mass, Chloe wheeled her mother toward the front door, veering right towards the bathroom. She always had to pee after sitting for so long, she’d told her mother more than once. The real reason she stalled leaving the church wasn’t even obvious to herself, but when she stopped to use the bathroom, it gave everyone else time to leave the church, giving her Father Joseph’s undivided attention when they spoke outside the church on Chloe and her mother’s way to the parking lot.

Chloe had been thinking a lot lately about her faith and about her place in life. She needed someone she could talk to. She hoped Father Joseph could be that someone, not least because she was eager to spend more time with him. She finished in the bathroom, washing her hands and drying them with a barely absorbent paper towel that felt only a little less rough than the bark of the tree it had been made from. She crumpled the paper towel and tossed it in the trashcan on the way out of the room, shutting out the light as she went. The church wasn’t especially large, and so only had a single bathroom labeled “MEN” and another small one labeled “WOMEN” containing a toilet and a small counter against the wall surrounding a round sink basin with a mirror above it. Consequently, only two people could use the bathroom at any one time during mass, a bit of an inconvenience on major holidays when the church was especially crowded.

She took the handles of her mother’s wheelchair in hand and started to push her toward the front doors of the church, propped open as they always were. She wheeled her mother outside to find Father Joseph standing just outside, hands folded behind his back, seemingly in thought. She stopped in front of him and greeted him warmly. He took her hand in his and shook it, a wide smile spreading on his face and a warmth spreading to his cheeks at her touch. Chloe thanked him for a lovely sermon (even if she heard zero percent of it) and he thanked her sincerely. They spoke a little about the weather, neither wanting to part ways just yet. Father Joseph realized he still held her hand between his and let go, clearing his throat.

“Listen, Father, I wanted to ask you something, and I understand if you’re too busy, I’m sure you are,” she started.

“What is it, Chloe?” he asked, leaning in so that Chloe’s mother couldn’t hear them.

“Would you… I mean, would you meet me for lunch at Nat’s later today? If you have the time,” she finished quickly, nervously trying to spit out the invitation before she lost her nerve.

“I… Sure, I can do that,” he said quietly, trying to hide his elation at the prospect of seeing her again without having to wait until next Sunday, and of having some time alone with her. The relief on her face was obvious.

“How’s three?” she asked.

“Three’s perfect,” he answered with a smile.

“Thank you, Father,” she said, genuine gratitude in her face. Chloe turned to leave, sensing that her mother was getting antsy. She was honestly surprised she’d behaved herself this long, but was thankful she had. Apologizing for her mother’s behavior and words had become a part-time job in itself since Chloe had moved back home, though it hardly felt like home compared to New York. She missed the city every day.

She thought about calling her best friend Becca when she got home, after getting mom settled at her house, and making sure she had dinner prepared for her father to put into the oven when the pair got hungry. Chloe usually spent Mondays preparing easy to cook meals for her parents to defrost and put into the oven for dinner throughout the week. She came over a couple of times a week to cook something other than casseroles and pasta dishes. She’d gotten pretty good at coming up with easy-to-freeze-and-reheat meals that were actually nutritious while she’d lived on her own.

Chloe was an artist, “though not a very good one” she always told people when the subject came up, and she hated being interrupted by having to cook a meal when she was in the middle of a new project, so she’d gotten good at meal prep to prevent that irritation. If asked, Chloe would probably say that her art was “just a hobby” and leave it at that, but the truth was she’d had a decent amount of success selling her work just through word of mouth after some friends of Becca’s had bought from her, and was even featured in a gallery or two in the city (she hadn’t sold anything then, but she’d been thrilled to be there either way).

Chloe left her mother at the end of the sidewalk and walked across the parking lot alone just to get away from the constant stream of consciousness pouring out of her mouth, most of it negative and often hurtful to Chloe, though she’d grown quite a thick skin over the years of dealing with her parents. She breathed deeply and focused on the concrete beneath her as she walked across the parking lot to their spot. Not a far walk but she needed the respite. She unlocked the door and climbed into the car. She checked her mirrors and flicked the small Alf bobblehead she kept glued to the dashboard.

“You ready for her, buddy?” she asked the bobblehead. She flicked it again to make it shake its head “no”. “Yeah, me neither. Fuck it,” she said as she jammed the car into gear and pulled out of the parking spot, speeding up to the curb where her mother waited, tires squealing when she braked hard in front of her. She smiled widely as she got out of the car, tuning out the loud bitching coming in a steady stream from Janet’s mouth. Lately Chloe had gotten into the strange habit (but not surprising really, given the childhood they’d given her) of calling her parents by their first names, at least in her head. She wouldn’t dare do it out loud, dreading the headache that would ensue, the lectures about disrespect, the “honor thy mother and thy father” bullshit would start, and it would just go downhill from there. Not worth the temporary satisfaction.

Chloe tried to be a good daughter, she really did. She tried so hard. But it had never been enough. She had never been enough for them. She’d called them dutifully every week like clockwork while she’d lived in New York, she’d come home for the holidays, made sure to send gifts for Father’s Day and Mother’s Day, had done everything she thought she was “supposed” to do. She loved them, she always had and always would, but she resented them. Though a bit of a lapsed Catholic, Chloe had still always somewhat believed, and had at least gone to church on the major holidays with her mother (her father never attended, he barely left the house since he’d retired). She had tried to adhere to the teachings of the church, when it came to most things anyway, but she couldn’t help how she felt, and she’d long ago given up trying to.

Chloe opened the passenger side door to the Buick and helped her mother up from her chair. Janet snatched her arm away from Chloe when she tried to help her into the car, muttering something about her being “some kind of maniac” under her breath. Chloe smirked at that and closed the door behind her, cutting off her mumbling with a mechanical clunk and a click. She opened the back door, collapsing and stowing the wheelchair between the back of the driver’s seat and the back seat where it couldn’t slide around when she inevitably took a turn too sharply for Janet’s liking, maybe accidentally, maybe not. Once it was secured, she closed the back door and walked around the back of the car to the other side, climbing into the driver’s seat and inserting the key into the ignition. A neon keychain reading “Foxy Grandma” hung from her keyring. The only other keys on the ring being the one to the house she was renting at the end of her parents’ block and a spare key to her parents' house.

Chloe drove her mother home, taking it easy on her this time, taking the corners slowly and obeying the speed limit for once. They arrived at her childhood home in about five minutes (if she hadn’t needed to drive her mother, Chloe would have walked to church every Sunday) and Chloe climbed out, admiring the shady, oak tree-lined street she and her parents both lived on. She helped her mother once again into her wheelchair, closing the doors to the Buick and wheeling her down the sidewalk to the large red front door of the house. The house was eggshell white with red trim and a red wraparound porch with a swing Chloe had spent many hours reading on as a child. She pulled out her key and let them into the house, wheeling her mother into the living room where her father sat in the dark, the only light in the room reflecting from the television, playing some black and white western or other, feet up in his La-Z-Boy recliner, beer in hand.

Chloe didn’t bother greeting him.

“Hello, Harold,” said Janet to her husband, who appeared not to hear her. After a much too long pause, he took a sip of his beer and grunted in response. Chloe wheeled her mother across the rug so that she could sit next to Harold. He was a short stout man, wearing grey chinos and a white t-shirt with red suspenders. He had house slippers on his feet and sported a thick white mustache below a bulbous red nose and bald pate.

“I’ll go get dinner in the oven, okay, mom?” asked Chloe. Her mother nodded, looking up at her with a grateful smile.

“Thank you, dear. You take such good care of us,” her mother answered, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. Chloe had learned to take her mother’s rare good moods in stride, though they threatened to cause whiplash at times, and just enjoyed the ride until her regular sour disposition showed itself once again. Chloe smiled down at her mother, a smile she hoped looked more genuine than it felt, and left the room to make her way down the hall from the large, high-ceilinged living room to the even larger kitchen (though her mother had always been a terrible cook, half the time during her childhood Chloe was afraid whatever concoction her mother served her for dinner might get up and walk across the table to escape being eaten, it often looked so alien). She looked at her reflection in the stainless-steel surface of the restaurant sized refrigerator for a moment, making a face and sticking her tongue out at herself before opening the door and looking inside.

She found what she was looking for after a minute of searching through the cavernous fucking fridge that for some reason her parents thought they, two elderly people who barely ate, needed. She pulled the casserole off the center shelf of the fridge and kicked the door shut on her way across the room to the convection oven, turning it on to heat up and waiting the few minutes it took before putting the pan inside and setting the timer that sat on top of the oven. Chloe walked back down the hall to the living room and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, telling her father that dinner would be done when the buzzer in the kitchen went off. He grunted again to show he heard her, not looking away from the television. Chloe turned on a couple of lights in the room on her way out of the house so her mother could read while Harold lost himself in a John Wayne marathon on TNT.

She left through the front door of the house, letting herself out quietly, closing the door behind her and making sure it was locked. She put her hands in her pockets as she walked down the sidewalk to her car. She got in and drove to the end of the block, parking in her driveway (she used the garage as an art studio, and so parked the Buick outside under a large carport to protect it from the weather, and from falling acorns). She got out of her car and walked to her own front door, hers painted a bright blue with white accents, the rest of the house matching, white siding with blue windows and shutters and a deep blue-grey shingled roof. Chloe let herself in with a sigh and put her bag down next to the door beneath the coat rack. She went to the kitchen and took a seat at the kitchen island on one of the dark polished wooden stools that surrounded it.

She reached across to the wall behind her and grabbed the cordless phone from its cradle, dialing Becca’s number. Becca answered after three rings.

“Hello?” Becca asked into the phone after a second of silence.

“Hey, it’s me,” said Chloe, knowing Becca would recognize her voice.

“Hey, bitch what are you up to?” Becca greeted her with the usual grace she saved only for her closest friends. “You enjoying the night life out there in Bumfuck, Nowhere?” she laughed.

“What are you doing tonight? I have to live vicariously through you because there is nothing to do in this town, I swear everyone’s dead after eight p.m.”

“Going to a show,” said Becca.

“What show?” asked Chloe suspiciously. Becca sounded cagey. Becca coughed something into the phone that vaguely sounded like a human language, though which one Chloe could only guess at.

“What show, Becca?” asked Chloe again.

“The Fisted Nuns,” said Becca louder, this time clear enough to understand.

“WHAT THE FUCK BEC?” asked Chloe loudly. “Why the fuck are you going to see my ex’s band?”

“I didn’t know they were playing until after I bought the tickets, we wanted to see Sludge Enema and Pierced Foreskin was supposed to open but they had to drop out at the last minute! I literally had no idea, I swear Chlo!”

“Just please don’t talk to him, okay? Don’t tell him anything about me, okay? I really don’t need another headache to deal with here,” said Chloe.

“I won’t, I swear, I probably won’t even see him because Cam and Derek aren’t meeting me for drinks until seven and—

“Bec, I have to go, I have a meeting with somebody,” Chloe interrupted her. Knowing Becca, that was ramping up to be the longest story ever told in one long, run-on sentence.

“Who do you have a meeting with? Is this a date? Did you meet a guy down there?” asked Becca, curiosity and a bit of teasing in her voice. “What’s he like? Better than the last one, I hope. Not another drummer at least, right? Is he tall? I bet he’s tall. Where did you—

“BEC I HAVE TO GO I’ll call you later, I promise, okay?”

“Okay but you better be ready to spill, bitch, I’ll be home until seven,” said Becca.

“I thought you said Derek and Cam were meeting you at the bar at seven?”

“Always keep ‘em waiting, Chlo,” said Becca, laughing. Chloe laughed too.

“Kay, bye,” she said into the receiver.

“Kisses,” said Becca, hanging up with a click.

Chloe looked at her watch and realized she’d stayed on the phone with Becca too long and she was about to keep Father Joseph waiting unless she forewent a shower, so she ran upstairs, washed her face and threw on some eyeliner before heading out the door. It was a nice day so she decided to walk, Nat’s Diner wasn’t that far from her house, and she could make it in time since she’d decided to shower after she got home. It was getting a little colder and some clouds were starting to creep in at the edges of the sky, occasionally blotting out the warm early autumn sun. She pulled her flannel shirt a little tighter and thought about how she should have brought an umbrella, but it was too late to go back and still be on time to the diner.

Chloe made it to the corner unmolested by any neighbors, a frequent occurrence when she decided to take a walk around the neighborhood to get some air and do some thinking. The parents of the neighborhood kids she grew up with always recognized her and wanted to catch up as if she had been close to any of their children. Chloe had been a loner growing up and still kept her friend circle small now that she was older. She’d occasionally played with the other kids, but eventually she’d been labeled the “weird” girl and thus, untouchable, by the time they’d reached high school. That had been fine with Chloe, as far as she was concerned, she didn’t belong with any of these people anyway, and why should a round peg try to fit into a square hole? She was content doing her own thing and being left alone.

Then her father had decided to retire when she graduated high school and leave her the concrete business, Harold’s, with the caveat that she not change the name, her father didn’t want a “girl’s name” taking over his business’ title too. The business essentially ran itself, and had only grown since she’d become the owner, making sure that her employees were paid and treated extremely well, with full benefits paid by the company, a pension plan, paid vacation and parental leave. Those were her demands for the business; beyond that, she left the running of day-to-day operations to Robert, the man that her father had always wished were his son, and who he had trained to take his place in all but ownership of the business, which went to Chloe. She’d heard the fight her parents had had over that decision from her bedroom. Her mother tearfully telling her father that if he left his business to a stranger over his own daughter, she would leave him. He’d hit her that night for the first and last time, but he’d also changed his mind and decided that it was only right that his blood inherited the business, even if she wasn’t the right gender.

As soon as the ink was dry on the paperwork she had everything she needed packed into a duffel bag and was on a bus to New York City. She found a cheap apartment until the business had the opportunity to start garnering her a steady income (which turned out to be much more than she’d expected) at which point she rented a larger apartment with a much better view, in Gramercy Park, near Union Square. That’s where she’d met Becca, who lived in the same pre-war building, a floor below her. They met several times on the elevator and had eventually struck up a conversation. They found they got along quite well, and Becca started inviting Chloe to concerts and parties. The two had been best friends ever since, over 15 years.

Becca wrote for fashion magazines, mainly doing freelance work that allowed her almost as much freedom in her everyday life as Chloe had. Though Chloe enjoyed and needed quiet time at home, she loved the experiences she got hanging out with Becca, who was knee-deep in the goth and punk scenes of the city, meeting members of bands she’d never heard of and likely never would again, learning names like Spike, and Iggy Ooze, and even one guy who, I shit you not, went by “Snake”.

Chloe was in the middle of her reverie, barely looking where she was going, when she found herself standing outside Nat’s Diner. She checked her watch. She was a few minutes early and couldn’t see Father Joseph inside waiting for her, so that was good. She went inside to escape the nip in the air and sat at the booth in the far back next to the window, enjoying the afternoon rays of sun shining through the glass whenever the clouds allowed it to peek through. The server, a middle-aged curly-haired woman named Mel, approached the table, and took Chloe’s drink order, a black coffee.

She settled herself in the booth, both hands wrapped around the cup of coffee Mel had brought her, occasionally sipping the rich black liquid that warmed her from the inside as she waited for Father Joseph to show up.

Tag List:

@barrettfilms @magicovento @amaliazeichnerin @theodoesitagain @endofradio @maxwellendowed @hellsangelbaby @icecoffeekisses @dopewitchtrash @astrangegirlsmind @daniirosie @xenalistair @rachaeljurassic @monstergifpacks @wolvenjay @maria-allegra @moonlight-fern @rainstorms-library @chocolate-starfish-wtf @sportsmusicsoapsmoviesfan

My writing master post (Father Joseph is at the bottom):

[devildom-moss]

Signs of Affection (gift)

Part 3/finale of this request (Lucifer, Leviathan, Diavolo, Barbatos, and Simeon)

(Beelzebub x gn!MC) (Thirteen x gn!MC) (Raphael x gn!MC) (Mephistopheles x gn!MC)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +3,600

Beelzebub

By the time Beelzebub finally returned home, it was late. He made a stop after practice with one goal in mind: to make you smile. So, after a long day, the second he walked through the door, Beel went looking for you. Unfortunately, you weren’t in your room. Nor were you in his room – which was a shame, as a selfish part of him hoped to find you curled up in his sheets, waiting for him to get home. He would have asked Belphie if he hadn’t passed out in his own bed for a pre-dinner nap. Then, he remembered: you were in charge of making dinner tonight. How could he have forgotten? Usually, Beel would look forward to your home cooking all day, anticipation building in him until dinnertime. Beel hurried to the kitchen with a smile on his face.

When he found you, Beel couldn’t hold back. He came up behind you, wrapped his arms around your waist, and buried his face in your neck. Between your scent and the smell of whatever you were cooking, Beel was in a state of bliss. He sighed against your skin and whispered, “found you.”

You noticed that he was still wearing his school uniform. Beel tended to shower and change after he got home – especially when he had practice. “Did you just get back?”

“I’m home now.” Beel hugged you tighter and sighed again. His hot breath tickled your neck. If your presence hadn’t subdued him into a soft, pleasant haze, Beelzebub might have found the words to clarify: now that he finally had you in his arms, he felt at home.

“It’s pretty late. You must be starving. Is that why you came by? I’ll be done soon, I promise,” you reassured him with a soft smile.

“Actually, I came in for this” – Beel took one arm off you to dig something out of his satchel and set a bag of bright crimson candies, tied with a dark green ribbon, on the counter next to the stove – “I bought you a bag of cherry candies.”

“That’s so nice! Thank you, Beel.” You smiled over your shoulder at him.

“I got another bag for myself so I wouldn’t be tempted to eat yours. Wanna try one?”

“Sure.”

Beel pulled out a piece from his own bag – which he had already opened on the walk back home – and unwrapped it for you. Without a word, he brought it up to your lips. You knew you should have been used to him trying to hand feed you by now, but the feeling of his fingertips grazing your lips always stirred something in you, and you were rarely sure whether he was purposefully trying to turn you on or not. Although, those few times where he dared to tease you – by, for example, pushing his finger into your mouth along with a bright cherry candy, and dragging it along your tongue before sliding the saliva-dampened digit down your chin – suggested that he always knew what he was doing to you.

Whether it was from the rush of sugar melting on your tongue or the racing of your heart, your lips curved up.

“There’s that smile.” A soft, breathy chuckle teased you further. “I thought I should bring back something sweet for you – because you’re sweet.”

“Aww, you think I’m sweet?” His words made you melt.

“Yes. You’re a very sweet person,” Beel replied in a candied tone. He loosened his grip around you to place his hands on either side of the stove, boxing you in. Leaning over your shoulder, Beel whispered into your ear: “And you taste even sweeter.”

The seductive drop in his voice sent chills up your spine that caused your shoulders to tremble slightly – an effect you hoped that Beel wouldn’t notice. You did your best to divert his attention and give yourself a chance to calm down. “Are you hungry? Do you want to try some of the stir-fry?”

Beel laughed and opened his mouth for you to feed him. You carefully grabbed a piece of meat with cooking chopsticks and allowed it to cool before holding it in your hands. It wasn’t as if you were eager to feel Beel’s lips on your skin. You just knew that you could trust him to not take a bite out of you more than you could trust him not to bite through the chopsticks. Besides, you didn’t want to contaminate the food by letting him eat with your cooking utensil.

He looked so happy as he chewed. “It’s delicious. I wish I could eat your cooking every day.”

“Thank you, Beel,” you grinned with a hint of pride.

Beelzebub wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into your neck affectionately once more. His cheeks burned, and he admitted, “But I still want to eat you most of all.”

Thirteen

When Thirteen invited you to her cave, you hadn’t expected to find such an obvious trap awaiting you. Right in front of the entrance to the cave was a vibrant pink gift box tied with a blue ribbon. She wasn’t fooling anyone, but you would hate to disappoint her, so you approached the present and leaned down to pick it up, trusting that Thirteen wouldn’t put you in harm’s way. Besides, you didn’t sense any malicious magic coming from the present.

The second you lifted the lid, a flurry of bubbles and confetti rushed out of the box. A particularly large bubble that was uniquely semi-opaque floated closer to you. There was something inside, or at least the strange shadow near the bottom suggested as much. You held your hands to catch the bubble, but just as it reached your palm, it burst into a puff of smoke, leaving its contents in your hand. Once the smoke cleared, you saw a bracelet with large, light pinkish-purple colored stone beads.

“Okay, where’s the cute little trickster who designed this?” you yelled out, knowing that Thirteen was probably watching nearby.

There was a gentle rustling in a nearby tree before you saw Thirteen hanging upside down from a sturdy branch. She arched her spine and bent backwards so she could get a good look at you. Thirteen gave you a smile, kicked her legs off the branch, and flipped over, landing safely on her feet. You felt compelled to clap for her.

“Someone called for a cute trickster?” Thirteen walked over while stretching her arms above her head, lifting her shirt up slightly higher.  

You tried to ignore your racing thoughts and asked, showing her the bracelet in your hand, “what’s this?”

“It looks like a thirteen-bead lilac kunzite bracelet – knotted, with a silk cord,” Thirteen answered plainly before a grin snuck up on her face. “Oh~ you mean, is this pretty little accessory and Mr. Bubble Barrage Surprise a gift for a precious human from someone madly in love with them? Who knows.”

“I’d say you might know.” You laughed at her, which only made Thirteen’s smile widen.

“I might,” she confirmed.

“Well, your – I mean their – Mr. Bubble Barrage Surprise was delightful, and it is a very pretty bracelet. Whatever human receives this is lucky, and I’m sure they are just as madly in love with the sender.”

“Oh you!” Thirteen bit her lip, all too pleased that you had not only played along with her but had flirted to the point of making her heart race. “Let me put this on for you.”

“You mean it’s for me?” you teased.

“Stop playing with me – unless you’re willing to put something at stake. In which case, I won’t go easy on you. Now, give it here.” Thirteen held her hand out with a wicked grin. You placed the bracelet in her palm.

Thirteen loosened the bracelet and slipped it over your hand. She rubbed her fingertip over the first stone and continued the motion like they were prayer beads until she got to the seventh. On that one, Thirteen rolled it back and fourth over your skin a few times. Then, she tightened the bracelet around your wrist.

“Thank you, Thirteen. But why did you want to give me this?” Usually, Thirteen preferred to give you food that the both of you could share or gadgets she had made. A bracelet wasn’t something you expected from her. Then, it occurred to you. “Wait, did you make this yourself?”

“What do you think?” Thirteen held your hand up, admiring the way her work looked against your skin. She smirked. “I am good with my hands, after all.”

Trying to ignore her innuendo, you asked, “What made you think to make this for me? It’s so sweet of you.”

“The answer isn’t that sweet; do you still want to know?” Thirteen caressed your knuckles with her thumb.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“I wanted to stake my claim on you. Those idiots are always clamoring for your attention, and I don’t mind that you indulge them, but it makes me feel a bit possessive. Since I’m certain you wouldn’t allow me to bite you every day, this is my way of marking you. I hope you don’t mind.” Thirteen had a soft smile on her lips – tainted with the shame of her jealousy. She grabbed the ends of your bracelet and tugged it gently, guiding your hand upright. Then, she slid her hand up, and intertwined her fingers with yours. “I want you to remember that you’re mine too.”

Raphael

Days alone with Raphael were a rarity, especially days spent comfortably relaxing in his room – and not just because the state of his room was often too chaotic for him to invite you in without any shame. However, Raphael found the place in a post-project cleanliness that encouraged him to ask you over at your earliest convenience. He was happy to have you all to himself.

“Take your shirt off,” Raphael suddenly insisted.

“Excuse me?” He had always been blunt, but the demand startled and flustered you. It wasn’t off the table, but the way he brought up his desires – how he initiated his advances – was jarring. You stared at him, wide-eyed.

Raphael chuckled at your surprise – almost as if he had intentionally phrased it that way just to tease you. He got up and went to his designated “projects for MC” bin and pulled out a neatly folded cloth, “I made you something, and I want to see how it fits you.”

He held a black button-down shirt up to your body. The cuffs and collar had subtle gold and blue embroidery that matched the four-part diamond accent unique to Raphael’s Celestial Realm clothes – the one on his choker and the front of his pantlegs. During his downtime over the past few weeks, Raphael had worked hard, crafting the shirt from scratch and ensuring everything down to the gold-thread buttonholes was beautiful. He had even taken the time to match the golden thread and the diamond-shaped metal buttons.

“Do you not want to get undressed?” Raphael’s lower lip pushed forward in a false pout – and had you realized he was setting you up to tease you, you might not have felt your chest tighten with heart-wrenching pity. That pout revealed its true nature: a wicked smirk unbefitting an angel. “Or maybe you’d like some help, hm?”

“Okay, if you don’t mind,” you agreed coolly, hoping to calm his teasing with shameless honesty.

Raphael draped your new shirt over the edge of his bed, freeing up his hands so he could take his time with you. His fingers lingered along your bare skin, appraising each inch of the exposed flesh he revealed. Scarred, hairy, dry, uneven, or sagging skin – any perceived flaw and every part of your body under his hands deserved the reverence he held for you. Each unnecessary caress was an offering of affection, praise whispered through a brief topographical survey of your body. Once he got you out of your shirt, Raphael took a second to admire you before helping you into the new one. He slowly buttoned it up, savoring the warmth of your core. His fingers stopped after the third button from the top, and he trailed his index finger down your exposed skin until he reached the button he had just done and hooked his finger inside your shirt. A part of him wanted to stop and undress you all over again.

“Raphael.” You cleared your throat in an attempt to pull him out of the daze he had worked himself into. He blinked slowly.

“Sorry. It’s not every day that I get to treat you like my doll.” Raphael held a gentle smile on his lips and dragged his gaze up to your chest as he finished buttoning up your shirt. Just as he imagined it would, the shirt fit beautifully. He smoothed his thumb over the embroidery on your collar. “Perfect.”

Raphael was right. The material was soft, and the shirt was a perfect fit. It was unbelievable. “How did you make this? It feels like you tailored it just for me, but you didn’t even take my measurements. Is that some kind of superpower?”

“Of course not,” Raphael chuckled at your confusion. “You know that silky black shirt you wore at the last R.A.D. event? I thought you looked amazing in it, so I used it to construct a pattern for this shirt.”

“You stole my shirt?”

“No. I borrowed it.”

“What? When? How?” You scrambled to understand what Raphael had done to get his hands on your clothes, but you decided to disregard those concerns and asked, “Do you still have it?”

“Yes – probably. I might have lost it in the sewing process. I’m sorry.” Raphael rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I can buy you a new one.”

“It’s okay. I already have a new shirt thanks to you.” You offered him a soft, understanding smile.

“But you looked really good in that one,” Raphael protested. “Let me buy you a replacement. I insist.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Good.” Raphael busied his hands by folding up the shirt you were wearing before. “Oh, but if I find it, do you want the old shirt back?”

“If you can use it for something else, you can keep it.”

“Oh? Alright.” Raphael nodded. Wonderful. He just had to keep the old one hidden for a few more days.

Mephistopheles

You were busy helping Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Satan with paperwork when Mephisto burst into the student council room. He had been searching for you all day to give you a gift. He’d never admit to keeping his eye out for you – nor would he admit to sinking so low as to ask the one angel he actually got along with if he knew your whereabouts. Luke mentioned seeing Barbatos escorting you to the council room, so Mephisto took that lead and explored it.

It was annoying that you weren’t easier to track down, but Mephisto was especially irritated to find you sitting shoulder to shoulder with Lucifer as that pompous bastard leaned over to examine your work – as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world that Lucifer was coming on to you by pressing himself against you. What an entitled ass. What a rude, desperate, jerk!

Mephisto was fuming as he made his way over to you – although his anger wasn’t directed at the human he was unfortunately enamored with. He came up right behind you and Lucifer and sandwiched himself between the two of you as he set a small black leather box with silver accents down on the table.

“For me?” You stared at him, confused.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at you as if you had just asked the stupidest question he had heard all week. He started to speak: “Are you –”

“Yes, of course it is,” Mephisto cooed, happily interrupting Lucifer, and bent over the table until he had claimed the scarce space between paperwork. He stared at you over his shoulder with a seductive tint that Lucifer should have been grateful to be spared from witnessing. Mephisto’s gaze didn’t break as he asked, “Who else in this room would I go out of my way to spoil, you ridiculous creature?”

“Diavolo, probably,” you answered honestly.

“Lord Diavolo doesn’t require my spoiling. He’s a perfectly capable leader.”

“MC doesn’t require your spoiling either,” Lucifer interjected. “They’re spoiled plenty at home.”

“What sort of egotistical guardian denies someone the simple pleasure of a present because he believes himself capable of tending to their every need?” Mephisto continued to keep his eyes on you as he directed his question at the demon to his side.

“Excuse me? What overinflated suitor believes he’s more capable of pleasing someone who lays their head down in the bed of another?”

“I could ask you the same question!”

“Can you two knock it off?” You sighed, glancing around the room. Barbatos gave you a look that suggested he was two more coded insults away from shutting those two up himself.

“I’m finished with this stack anyway.” Lucifer gathered his paperwork into a tidy pile and got to his feet. “Just call on me if you need anything at all, MC. I’m certain I can fulfill whatever you ask of me.”

Once Lucifer walked away, you saw Mephisto’s shoulders relax. You shook your head, slightly entertained by his commitment to hating Lucifer. “Thank you for the gift, Mephisto. This is very sweet. I’ll open it after I’m done here, okay?”

“Certainly. Well” – Mephisto stood up straight, smoothed down his jacket, and quickly squeezed your shoulder as if he was afraid to let anyone notice that a desire to touch you burned in him – “I should be on my way.”

“Wait. Could I have a kiss before you go?” you asked.

“What? Why would you want –? Right now?” Mephisto felt especially flustered at the idea of kissing you in front of Diavolo and Barbatos. If you had just asked in front of Lucifer and Satan, he would have quickly obliged you.

“Please?” You encouraged him, sweetly.

“What’s the matter, Mephistopheles?” Lucifer made his way back towards the wreckage to antagonize the drowning victim. A sadistic smirk sat on his lips. “I gave MC a kiss the last time I gave them a present. Can’t you do that much?”

“I don’t want to!” Mephisto huffed and stormed away. You felt guilty and were about to chase after him to apologize when he loudly demanded, “Don’t follow me. Just leave me alone.”

You sat back down in your seat and nervously chewed your lower lip. Every part of that situation could have gone better. I probably shouldn’t have asked so much of him, and I didn’t need to be so persistent, you thought. Eventually, you refocused on your paperwork – trying to distract from the awkwardness you felt and to keep your eyes from wandering to the present sitting on the table, taunting you. Mephisto was being so nice to you, and now he's probably in a terrible mood; that didn’t seem fair, and it certainly didn’t seem fair that you were left with a gift that you said you would open. The paperwork-distraction did, inevitably, come to an end. There was nothing left to shove between you and that gift; your hands were idle. Maybe you shouldn’t open it.

“MC,” Diavolo interrupted your thoughts. “I think Mephisto would be happy if you opened it now.”

“He would?” You traced the decorative silver boarder along the top of the box.

“I’ve known him longer than anyone else. If I had to guess, I’d say he was really excited for you to open that present – whether he was here or off sulking somewhere. He just wanted to make you happy.” Diavolo offered you a smile and returned to his desk.

You decided to open it. Inside the box was a well-crafted brooch that was aimed to complement your style, which indicated that Mephisto had carefully considered what would suit you. Underneath the brooch was a small card with your name written on it in Mephisto’s lovely – although possibly ostentatious – calligraphy. You opened the card to read:

Wear this to dinner tonight. Dress nicely. A car will arrive to pick you up at the House of Lamentation at 8pm. Yours, unfortunately, Mephistopheles

He got you a present and asked you on a date – or, well, maybe demanded one. Now you really felt bad for letting him storm off. Would he even still want to keep your date? You pulled out your D.D.D. and anxiously crafted a message.

MC: Hey, Mephi. I’m sorry I was so pushy earlier. I shouldn’t have upset you by asking for a kiss so casually in front of people. I hope you aren’t too upset. . . Do you still want to go on that date tonight? I’ll understand if you want to call it off.

You pressed send and waited for a response that came soon after.

Mephistopheles: Just don’t get so needy in front of Lord Diavolo in the future.

Mephistopheles: And yes, I expect to see you tonight. I’m looking forward to it. However, I need you to do one more thing for me.

MC: Sure, what is it?

Mephistopheles: Bring a change of clothes with you – unless you want me to drop you off at home tomorrow afternoon in the same outfit you were wearing when you left.

You rolled your eyes and tried to tease him.

MC: What? I can’t go home in the morning? Are you not a morning demon?

Mephistopheles: I won’t be done with you by the time morning reaches us. Any other questions, you ridiculous creature?

(kiss version - Mammon, Satan, Asmodeus, Belphegor, Solomon)

A/N: This took way too long and I cannot explain why (I don't know. Maybe my brain is broken). Also we should get to romance the sides after the next update because it would make sense but also because I want to - even if they might disappoint me.