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hotluncheddie · 7 days

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Day 7: Daddy Steve

"Softly"

wc: 2.5k | rated: E | tags: Sub Eddie Munson, established relationship (they're in love), soft dom Steve Harrington, anal sex, crying, pet names, Eddie Munson needs a hug

written for @subeddieweek <3

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Some days are just too much. Everything crawling up too high and burying Eddie where he stands. Days where he just can't handle it anymore. Needs a break. Some care. A little softness.

It's been one of those days.

The car Eddie’s working on just doesn’t want to run right and he heard a customer whispering to his boss, Jimmy, about his scars. Assuming it made Eddie someone untrustworthy; ‘you really want him in your shop Jim?’.

Jimmy set them straight but it really set Eddie’s teeth on edge. They’re not in Hawkins anymore, but sometimes, it feels like he never got away. Still a suspect. Still a freak.

Eddie slips into their apartment, shoving off his shoes and jacket. It's not so cold out anymore but he’s still got a henley on under his overalls, he pulls those half off and ties them at his waist. He keeps the henley firmly in place though. Pulling the sleeves further down over his hands.

The scars over his forearms aren’t even that noticeable, some of his faintest. But that guy, at the shop, he noticed. He noticed and it made Eddie’s skin crawl.

Steve is at the stove in their tiny kitchen, stirring something and humming to a song on the radio.

Eddie stalks over, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer. ‘Good day?’ Steve asks from his spot, eyes already trained on Eddie, on the knit of his shoulders.

Eddie grunts, taking a pull from the can. Not looking directly at Steve, at his soft eyes.

Eddie doesn’t deserver them.

‘Okay then, bad day.’ Steve jokes but it rips something up in Eddie. Pulls at his sinew, makes his scars itch. Everyone seems to know everything about him already, knows all his secrets, who he is. And maybe they do, his past is already laid out all over his skin anyway.

‘Need to talk about it?’ Steve asks, but it sounds so patronising, so, so.

‘God, just shut up Steve!’ Eddie scoffs, slamming his can down on the counter and turning away, arms crossed.

He regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth.

Steve takes Eddie's outburst in stride, slowly taking him in his arms, wrapping around his back and hooking his chin over his shoulder. ‘Steve? Not heard that one in a long time.’ A soft kiss to Eddie's temple. ‘What happened to Stevie?’ Steve rubs his cheek up against Eddies. ‘Or sweetheart?’ Buries his face in Eddie's neck. ‘Or doll, hm?’

Eddie turns so they’re facing. Letting the weight of the day, the guilt over his outburst show on his face, in the slouch of his shoulders.

‘That bad huh?’ Steve asks, running his eyes over Eddie's expression.

Eddie sniffs. ‘M’sorry. Don’t, please don’t shut up.’ He pleads, wishing he could rewind time 30 minutes, rewind to this morning. Do it all over.

Steve cups Eddie’s face in his hands, holding him up and looking right into him. ‘What do you need?’ Steve asks, forcing eye contact.

Eddie blinks, breaths in through his nose but his exhale gets choked on a sob. Fuck, it’s been such a bad fucking day. ‘I need to not fucking think for a while, don’t, don’t wanna exist anymore Stevie. Just wanna be here, be yours.’ He pleads, eyes on Steve’s soft brown ones. He feels tears sliding down his cheeks and snot filing his nose.

Steve hushes him, pulling Eddie into his neck and Eddie sobs. He cries ugly and loud and stains Steves shirt with his tears.But he can’t stop, felt too much today. Too bad.

He can’t do it tonight, exist. Wants to hide, needs it.

Stroking his hand over Eddie’s hair Steve hold him close, swaying them gently on the kitchen tiles and Steve statrs to hum again. Eddie thinks it’s Fleetwood Mac but he can’t really hear over the sound of his own ragged breathing. He just knows Steve is there, that Steve’s got him.

Eddie cries until he can’t anymore.

Once his breathings back to normal Steve pulls his head back out. Lifting his own shirt up to wipe Eddie’s face clean. Eddie grimaces because, gross. But Steve just has this little smile on his face, private and grounding and Eddie goes still. Lets Steve do as he pleases and just focuses on breathing.

Steve kisses his forehead once he’s done. ‘Go shower for me now Ed’s, yeah? It'll help you relax. I’ll make you some food.’ Eddie stiffens slightly at having to leave Steve’s arms. But, a shower does sound nice. Chance to scrub the grease and sweat from his hair and skin.

Eddie nods and Steve kisses his cheek, murmurs ‘good’. Eddie bites his lips as he shuffles away.

Eddie opens the shower curtain to see a small pile of clothes sitting in the toilet seat. A pair of loose shorts and one of Steve’s old crewnecks. Both Eddie’s favourites, they’re worn with age so they’re soft and usually reside in Steve’s side of the draws, making them smell a little more like him.

Eddie feels his shoulders dip further, tension spilling away. Takes Steve’s quiet instruction, his love filled action, puts on the clothes and breathes deep.

He smells Steve’s cooking, hears him singing softly through the walls, definitely Fleetwood Mac.

After they eat, Steve insists on doing the dishes while Eddie drinks tea - watching Steve, waiting for him to be done - before they move to the couch.

With the TV on low and main light off, Eddie finally feels his shoulders relax fully. Able to finally focus on just this.

Now, here, with Steve.

Eddie straddles Steve's thighs, making himself as small as possible in his lap, hooking his feet behind Steve's calves. Tangling them till they’re one, connected.

Eddies closes his eyes to focus on the feeling of Steve below him, the softness of his sweats against the backs of his legs, the rise and fall of his ribs. Pushing his forehead into Steve sternum Eddie shifts his fingers up under the hem of his t-shirt. Taking a deep breath as his fingers roam over Steve's soft healed sides, over his stomach and up to his pecs. Eddie cups them and squeezes, trying to fill all his senses with nothing but Steve.

Steve's voice is honey warm as he speaks quietly into Eddie's hair. ‘You want Mommy tonight baby?’ And Eddie gasps, looks up at him with watery eyes, feeling caught.

Until Steve is trailing soft fingertips over his face and jaw, over his fluttering eyelids and ears, over the scar that makes the side of his mouth droop.

So faintly, Eddie worries Steve will miss it, he shake his head and keeps his eyes closed. Swallows around the lump in his throat. ‘Tell me what you need baby.’ Steve hums, still close, still touching.

‘Daddy.’ He whispers, softly, into Steve's fingers at his lips, breathing it into his bones. A secret confession, a little bit of his insides spilt outwards.

Steve ‘hmm’s’ in quiet understanding, kissing the corner of Eddie's scarred mouth, the tip of his nose, the furrow between his brows. ‘I’ve got you. Gonna take care of you, yeah?’

‘Need it. I’m sorry, just, I. I need it.’ Eddie's voice wavers, his eyes screw up tight. The relentlessness of the day, the week, claw at him again, fill up his lungs, fit to drown him.

‘Hey, hey it’s okay. Whatever you want. You’re doing perfect. Answered my question so perfect Ed’s, okay?’ Steve smooths his hands over Eddie’s back, repetitive and grounding. ‘It’s just us, remember? Just us here. I’ve got you.’

Eddie nods dumbly, feels tears prickle his eyes. He takes a shuddery breath and tries to focus on letting the day drift away from him again. The soft blanket of ‘Steve’ and ‘home’ and ‘safe’ taking its place.

They stay like that, Eddie clinging and Steve holding him through it. Letting him relax enough to fall, to dip. Softly Steve trails fingers through Eddie's scalp, scratching lightly, tucking his hair behind his ears. Starts tapping Eddie's lip with his thumb, toying with it, playing with the seam of them. Waiting. He’s always so patient with Eddie, when Eddie gets like this.

Fisting the neckline of Steve’s sweatshirt Eddie inches impossible closer, sandwiching his forearms between their two chests. Nuzzling at Steve’s nose with his own. ‘Say it again’ Steve whispers into his mouth. In that way that's a little demanding but still playful, cocky, unbelievably Steve.

Eddie leans away just slightly to see Steve’s eyes, hooded, with pupils blown impossibly wide. Eddie's insides churn.

‘Daddy.’

Steve buries his hands in Eddie’s hair and brings their mouths together. Crashing into a kiss that's teeth and spit and soft need. Eddie keens at the sensation, how all consuming it is, when Steve kisses him.

They kiss until there’s no breath left in Eddies lungs, until the spit on his chin threatens to slide down his neck, until he feels the tip of his cock sticking to the fabric of his shorts.

Steve pulls him away gently by the hair, just enough for them to suck in greedy lungfuls, sharing the air between them. Eddie breaks. ‘You, you say it again.’ He demands, desperate.

‘Say what, hm? Tell me what you want Eddie.’ Steve moves strands of hair away from Eddies face, bit by tiny bit, preening him, taking his time.

‘Want you to say it again, call me it again.’ Eddie pants, unable to catch his breath. he needs it.

Leaning in close Steve tucks some of Eddies hair back behind his ear, sweeps it over his shoulder. Ghosting his lips over the shell of his ear Eddie feels the smile pulling at Steves lips. Goosebumps break out over his thighs.

‘Baby.’

Eddie full body shivers. Feels his vision tunnel with the sweet floaty feeling that comes when he’s held like this, talked to like this. Allowed to be, like this, with Steve.

Whining Eddie shoves lightly at Steve's chest to get their faces back together. Kissing and kissing and kissing, Eddie whines into Steve's mouth as he sucks on Eddie's tongue, swallowing each other's moans and Eddie can’t help canting his hips forwards, grinding in tight little circles on Steve's lap.

‘Does baby want anything special?’ Steve asks, tongue still dipping in and out of Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie shakes his head, still close, needs to be close. ‘Just want you. Want Daddy.’ he sounds desperate, feels desperate.

Steve kisses him again, slowing them. Pecks Eddies cheeks, his nose.

And it’s done sweetly. Steve always so sweet, and soft, with Eddie. Only getting mean if he asks for it, only going harder if Eddie begs.

‘Bedroom.’ Steve says into Eddies cheek. Stealing another kiss but stopping the movement of Eddies hips with firm hands at his waist.

‘Fuck, you look so pretty on my cock baby.’ Steve pants. ‘So beautiful Eddie, always.’

Eddie whines and squirms, arms above his head, turning his face to rub his cheek against the pillow. He bites the inside of his arm as Steve thrusts especially deep, groaning above him.

‘Say it.’ Steve says. ‘Say it for me baby.’

‘Ah fuck, fuck. Love your cock Daddy, love having your cock inside me.’ Eddie says, the filthy plea zinging up his spine and making his cock twitch.

Steve strokes him, lightly, way too lightly. Thumbing his wet tip. Collecting Eddie’s pre and presents his wet thumb for him. Eddie opens his mouth greedily, sucking the digit clean.

‘Say the rest of it baby.’ Steve insists. ‘Daddy needs to hear you say it.’

Eddie furrows his brows, confused, mind too fuzzy. Then a deep blush spreads across his face, down his neck.

‘Daddy.’ Eddie pleads. He doesn’t. He can’t.

Steve slows his thrusts and Eddie thrashes, still feeling the drag so deep as Steve bottoms out each time, but he’s grinding so slow it sets Eddies skin on fire.

Eddie crosses his arms over his eyes, pouting. ‘I’m ah I’m- I’m beautiful Daddy.’ His chest rising and falling, breathing shakily through his nose.

‘That’s is. So good.’ Steve placates. Leaning over Eddie to talk in his ear, pushing him deeper into the mattress. ‘Again.’

‘I’m, I’m beautiful.’ Eddie feels tears threaten to spill over his lash line. Feels his heart beat in his ears. Feels Steve’s stubble against his cheek.

Steve kisses over Eddie’s jaw and neck. Over his scarred skin. Following the lines of his healed sutures, raised and jagged. Steve mouths over them, following the trail back up to Eddies mouth. ‘So so beautiful baby. Such a good boy for Daddy.’

Eddie can’t contains the sob that escapes him. ‘Daddy please.’ He whimpers,

He doesn’t want to talk anymore.

Steve wraps his arm around Eddie’s knee, pushing it into his chest. ‘I know, I know baby. Gonna give you what you need yeah? You’ve been so good, so perfect.’

With a final kiss to Eddie’s mouth Steve hauls himself back up and resumes the previous pace. Thrusting deep and quick and Eddie moans, feeling split open and raw. Feels his cheeks wet with tears and he knows he’s being loud but his mind is so so quiet. Nothing but the feeling of Steve and the blanket of getting taken care of.

‘My pretty boy. My baby. You’re everything Eddie, my everything. I love you so much, love you more than anything.’ Steve pants out and Eddie cries. Tears falling into his hairline, cheeks warm and he’s probably splotchy all the way down his chest but Steve pushes into him deeper, speeding up and grazing that spot within him.

Eddie feels his orgasm build inside him. A string of wet ‘ah ah ah’s’ leaving his lips, in time with Steve’s quick thrusts.

Steve changed angle, leaning over Eddie again, holding himself up on his palms. Able to get impossibly deeper, Eddie feeling him up his spine, in his mouth, all over.

‘Together baby, together.’ Steve pants, wrapping one giant hand around Eddie, fisting in time with his thrusts. Which are getting sloppier, but still so deep.

Eddie arches of the bed, hands grasping for purchase on Steve’s broad shoulders, his neck. Their chests pressing together as Steve bottoms out again. Tugging on Eddie just right, filling him up with a deep moan. ‘Daddy.’ Eddie wails, cumming all over their stomachs and chests, some hitting his chin as he gulps for breath. Fingers still digging into Steve’s skin, keeping him close.

Steve grinds his softening cock into Eddie, sinking down on top of him, a deep body pressure. Eddie drifts.

Steve is laying on his side mouthing at Eddie’s neck, leaving soft kisses over his skin and scars, up over his cheeks. Eddie groans, turning and wrapping his arms around Steve. Crowding in closer so their bodies are back flush.

Steve hums, petting Eddie’s hair and kissing the crown of his head. ‘Back with me again sleepy head?’ He asks.

Eddie grunts, nibbling at Steves collarbone, mouthing and smoothing his lips over Steves soft skin. Eddie still feeling fragile, a little quiet, and needy.

But so, so much better than before.

‘Thank you.’ He mumbles, voice wobbling, but he’s too tired to cry any more today.

‘Baby.’ Steve coos, kissing Eddie’s head again. ‘No need for that, want to help. Love you so much Ed’s, always.’

Eddie sniffs again, hiding in the darkness of Steve’s chest, hiding away in his heart, in his bones. Still awed by the beauty and kindness of his soul.

He knows Steve’s got him, will let him rest there, basking and healing. Until he’s ready to face it all again.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Tag List: @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor @marvel-ous-m

#it’s done!!!#ty so much everyone for reading along #a sweet soft one to end us :)#mwah!#hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #my fic #sub eddie week #subeddieweek #<3

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solomonssock · 1 year

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To Capture A Demon's Heart

Mammon lovers I bestow upon you my apology fic. Please, rise up and come get your boy.

I fell for him a bit more writing this frfr

Pairing: gn!reader x Mammon (romantic feelings heavily implied, no established relationship, but don't you worry - you're working on that)

TW: Mention of Lucifer's punishments, Uhuhuh awkward discussion of infernal courting behaviors, mentions of violence, lmk if there''s anything else to add, ty!

Word Count: ~5,000

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

On the rug before you lay two options: “The Wicked Woes of Demonessa” or “To Capture a Beating Heart”.

You flip over both DVD cases to skim their synopses, fingers trailing over the printed leads in all their infernal glory. You snort to yourself at the crossroads Asmodeus has supplied you with and wonder which would be better: an all-demon romance or a demon-human romance?

Ah-actually, the question should be: which would be easier to convince Mammon to watch with you?

The answer, as always, is neither. But that won't stop you from trying.

You shake your head, a smile pulling at your lips at the thought of how he'll react to your movie selection tonight. He's late, but with good reason, so you'll forgive him. Punishment by Lucifer is punishment enough.

You kneel up from your position on the floor, rubbing out the pins and needles that had started to form. When all feeling returns to you, you reach under your bed to drag out the thick faux fur blanket Mammon had gifted you for your birthday this year. Custom-made, a pattern of your favorite hideously-cute zombie iguana plushies are plastered across the golden spread. You push your face into the fabric, its velvety softness tickling your skin, and inhale. It smells of the same smoky cedarwood that sticks to his skin.

You toss it onto your bed and climb up after. One-by-one you adjust your pillows so that they rest upright against the mossy wall and face the TV. You take care to put more support on your side, anticipating he'll eventually stop resisting and cuddle up to you as he often does. When you're finally satisfied with the distribution, you hop off the bed to snatch your wallet from the table nearby. You dig inside until your finger bumps into what you're looking for; a golden grimm coin.

Both titles are appealing enough that you're impartial to either, so you'll just do a coin toss. You're more interested in the cute expressions Mammon will show you tonight anyway.

You flip the coin off your thumb, catch it in your palm, and lay it flat on the back of your hand. You lift your palm and grin - it's head. “The Wicked Woes of Demonessa” it is.

A knock sounds at your door.

"Hey, Human, It's me. Open the door!" You hum to yourself, bending down to pick up just one of the DVDs. You stash both your wallet and “To Capture a Beating Heart” into your backpack and plop it into the chair farthest from the bed. You look over your room one more time and nod before walking over to open the door.

There waits your pouty demon, hair all mussed up with arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Some nerve you got, making me wait!" He huffs. You flash him a toothy smile, tugging him inside by his elbow and shutting the door behind him.

"Happy to see you too, Mam." A light flush rises to his cheeks.

"Y-yeah..happytoseeyatooidiot," he grumbles. "Did'ya pick out a movie yet?" His eyes skitter away from you to appraise your set-up.

Dimmed fairy lights, honey-scented candle sticks lit on golden candelabras, and the golden pendant he'd gifted you during your first year in the Devildom rests proudly over the collar of your pajama shirt. Everything is intentional. Everything is for him.

"Sure did!" You saunter over towards your bed and bend over to pick up the DVD case from off the rug. You go to open the case, but a lack of following footfalls distracts you. You look over your shoulder to find him fidgeting in the middle of your room.

You frown. "What's wrong Mam?"

"W-what's that smell?" His eyes flicker to and fro, scanning your space for the source.

"Uh, well I lit some scented candles. If they're too sweet for you I can turn them off, no problem." You toss the case onto your bed before heading for the coffin-shaped bookshelf in the back. You pick through a small black lace basket filled with spell tools you're borrowing from Solomon.

You forget sometimes how heightened their senses are compared to yours.

"You don't gotta go making a big deal out of it. A little sweetness ain't nothin' to the Great Mammon." He chuckles loud and proud, but you catch the way he clenches his fists at his side.

"It "ain't nothin'" if it bothers you, Mam." You admonish. You finally find the candle snuffer and lift it out of the basket. "Your comfort is my priority, alright?"

He sputters, eyes wide, and you shoot him a soft smile as you move over to the first candelabra. "Really, it's no trouble."

Before you can snuff out the first candle stick, a firm hand wraps around your wrist. "Nah, s'fine. I..I like it." Your heart does a little flip at the admission, but as you glance down at the back of his hand you frown.

"Aw, what happened here?" Your free hand traces the indentations pressed into his skin. They aren't too deep, but they seem a little aggravated.

"Tsch," he releases you to shove both his hands into his jacket pockets. A slight crinkle catches your attention as they settle into the tight space, but you'll worry about that later.

"Hey, none of that. No hiding." You place the snuffer onto the table and turn to him. You hold out your hands, palms up, and wait. Mammon can only shuffle his feet and avoid your eyes for so long.

"He's getting all creative now! Damn sadist."

You purse your lips and sigh out of your nose. Lucifer only had his brother's best interests in mind, but his methods could be awfully draconian at the worst of times. You'd seen in the group chat this morning that Mammon had tried to sell photos he sneaked out of Diavolo's private chambers. You haven't a clue of how he got past Barbatos of all beings, but you don't put it past him, he certainly is one of the most driven individuals you'd ever met. Undoubtedly, Mammon tested his luck and crossed several boundaries, but your heart aches for him. He's always hated sharing the weakest parts of himself.

"We don't have to talk about it. Will you just let me help you out a bit?" You bat your eyelashes when he finally meets your gaze. He scoffs and shrugs his shoulders.

"Can't keep your hands off me, can ya?" You quirk a brow at him, a knowing look on your face. You start to lower your hands slowly, purposefully.

"That's alright, Mam. I wouldn't want to force you." Before your hands can drop to your side, he clutches them in his own.

"Who said anything about force?! See," his hands squeeze your own, "all good to go." You drag your thumbs over the knuckles encasing your own.

"Go ahead and sit down, I'll join you in a sec." You gesture to the bed and your heart does happy little flips when he gravitates straight to the zombie-iguana blanket.

"Ya still got tha damn thing?" The question comes out soft, too soft, that you wonder if it was for you to begin with.

"Course I do. My first man gave it to me!" You can't stop yourself from laughing at the way his shoulders shoot up to his ears.

"Y-yeah," he attempts to catch himself as you walk back over to the bookshelf and dig into another basket, "It was a hassle to get it made, so don't go lettin' anybody else mess with it."

"Don't worry," you tease from the other side of the room. You can't resist the opportunity to rile up his greed, "I only take it out for our movie nights."

Sparing his dignity, you don't look up from the basket as you hear him choke a bit. When he calms down you grab the lotion-salve you'd made about a week ago, good for healing any minor wounds. Smelling of bergamot with hints of lavender, it's your proudest achievement thus far.

"Actually, speaking of our movie nights...," you stand and make your way over to the bed. Already, he's shoved off his jacket and shoes, making himself at home among the pillows. As your eyes scan his toned arms you're reminded that you quite literally have a model in your bed.

"This is the first one we've had in a while, huh?" He spreads his legs as you come closer, signaling for you to sit in between them. As you join him, his eyes soften and he holds out his hands for you to take. You're humbled by the trust he places in you.

You squirt some lotion into your hand and rub your palms together to warm it up before you reach for him. He sniffs the air and sits up a bit.

"The hells that?"

You cock your head. Does he really not like the smell this time?

"You mean the lotion?"

"Yeah! Did Asmo give you that? I don't want that flowery shit." Ah, the real issue isn't the lotion itself . Rather, that another demon may have given it to you. Despite the laugh begging to spill forth from your lips, you manage to cool your expression.

You slowly massage the cream into your skin, biting your lip at the low warning growl that leaves him. You just had to be sure. "No, Mam. Asmodeus didn't give this one to me. I made it myself." His posture relaxes considerably.

That is, until you open your mouth again.

"But, if you don't like the smell I can go give it to him. He'd probably like it, right? I can go real qu-" You don't get to finish your sentence as his hand grasps the front of your shirt, tugging you forward until you're trapped in his arms.

"Ya ain't goin nowhere." Goosebumps prick at your skin in response to this growl. It's not a warning. It's daring you to try your luck. You move quickly to return his embrace, smoothing your hands over his backside to reassure him. "You're stayin' here with me, understand?" Warmth flows through you from head to toe.

"So, you don't find the scent completely and utterly repulsive?" Your hands trail upwards to massage his shoulders, pushing and prodding the tense muscles. He flinches, but doesn't stop you.

"Ah, hold on!" Something clicks as he snaps back from you, holding you back by your shoulders. "Nobody said anythin' about being repulsed! Who said they're repulsed? Not me!"

"Oh, good!" You pull his hands off your shoulders, dropping them onto your lap as you reach over for the lotion. Again, you warm it up between your hands. "Then just sit still, alright?"

He goes down quietly, too quietly, that you make sure to watch his face for any discomfort as you reach for the first hand. A touch to his skin surprises you. His hand is rougher than you expect, but you mask your curiosity and don't hesitate to place your hands atop his. The last thing you want is for him to recede into himself when you've finally gotten this far into whatever is happening between the two of you. You can ask about the rough calluses on his palm another day.

You start with the lines indented over his fingers, carefully kneading the skin as he hisses under his breath. His eyes, a blend of ocean and golden sun, remain transfixed on where your skin meets. But, his face is marred by a deep frown that makes your blood run cold. Did you overstep somewhere?

"What's running through your mind?" You work your way onto his palm, tenderly rubbing the faded scars littered across the expanse of skin. The lotion can't heal something that has already come to pass. Nor can you, but you'll hold him here for as long as he'll let you.

A sigh leaves him. "Don't go treatin' me like I'm fragile. I'm supposed to protect you, got it?"

He's right, he's not fragile. Beneath the glamor he's taut, tough skin, with sharp fangs and leathery wings that could tear you to shreds. But, he's also the same demon who seeks you out for comfort after punishments or a big loss at the casino. The same demon who sits through horror movies if it means he'll have an excuse to spend the night with you. The demon who would truly do anything you asked of him - and that's not a power you wield lightly.

You pat his hand with a smile to let him know you're finished and hold out your hands for him once more. You'll let him decide if he wants to continue.

"Hey, don't you dare ignore me!" Plopping his hand into yours immediately defeats the tough tone he's put on. You start from the top and repeat the motion, fingers to palm. A rush of boldness overcomes you as you press into the callouses. You adore this demon. You wish he could see himself the way you see him.

"I know you're not fragile, Mam." You finish up the massage, but don't let go. You watch as the indentations gradually fade into even skin. "But, you're precious to me. I treasure what's precious to me. You get that, don't you?"

Your stomach drops as silence greets you. At the very least, you think, it's a good sign that he hasn't pulled his hand away from you. You drop both of your hands into your lap and fidget with his fingers.

"You mean that?" You never knew Mammon's voice could sound so meek.

You lift your eyes to his, grasping his hand tightly between your own. Wide eyes, mouth parted, and brows furrowed. Even like this, he's a vision.

"I mean it, Mam."

At once, his cheeks are aflame. "I-you!" He stammers. A laugh rips from your chest, relieved that he didn't a) run out of the room or b) hide away from you. You want to tease him more, but you hold back. Instead, you reach over to pick up the DVD from off your comforter and savor this milestone between the two of you.

"Ready for the movie?" You ask, getting up from the bed.

"Huh? Oh that, yeah, yeah." He seems a bit dazed.

"You feeling ok?" You lean over, lifting your hand to feel his forehead, but his hand catches yours before you reach him.

"I'm fine! The hell we watching anyway?" You use your free hand to show him the DVD cover. The two demonic leads stand before each other, hand in hand, leaning in for a kiss under the title.

"The Wicked Woes of Demonessa?!" He sounds exasperated. "W-where'd you get that junk?! We ain't watching that!"

"What, why not?" You pout, giving him puppy dog eyes.

"That's some mind poison! All it's good for is rottin' ya brain." He snarls, but you know you've got him. A little nudging is all he needs.

"Oh." You sigh, purposefully. "Well, if you don't want to watch it with me, I'm sure Beel or Mo wouldn't mind." "Like he-" "Or-" You counter before he can start running his mouth. "We can watch another movie I borrowed as a back-up."

Mammon eyes you suspiciously. "What other movie are ya hidin', human?"

You have to be a little evil in this back-and-forth or you'll never get anywhere. So, you shuffle over to the TV stand and grab the unopened DVD case resting next to the DVD player. You show him the cover and watch as he immediately recoils.

"ARE YA CRAZY?!" He shrieks. A myriad of ghosts with tormented expressions erupt from the house that rests above the title that reads: The Horrible Haunting of Hollow Hill Manner.

"What?" You ask like it's not the most peculiar and pointed selection to ensure you two watch your movie of choice this evening.

"What?" He mocks your casual tone. "Who're ya borrowin' that from?"

"Satan." Your smile comes easy. "He recommended this one, it's a murder mystery that takes place in a haunted house. Apparently, it's based on a true story."

"A TRUE WHAT?!" He throws the fur blanket over himself, leaving only his head submerged.

"Mammon," you snort, "you're literally one of the most powerful beings in existence. Fourth most powerful in all the Devildom."

You can't see his chest puff up, but you know him well enough to know it does.

"E-exactly!" He exclaims. "I can take on anything. Some cheap old trick movie like that won't scare me, nuh-uh, it'll just be a snoozefest."

"I see," you smirk, "then some cliche romance flick shouldn't be too bad, right? Wouldn't want you falling asleep on me." Hook, line, and sinker.

You pay Mammon's complaints no mind as you open the DVD case and pull out the disk. You pop it into the DVD player, thrilled you get to watch a classic demonic romance unfold. You've been curious for some time now about how romance in the Devildom differs from the Human Realm. The plot seemed entertaining enough, but really you were curious about the customs. You wanted to woo him on his terms, in a way he couldn't blow off as some human schtick.

You press play and pad back over to your bed. He's pouty, so you decide to sit next to him and hold out on getting under the blanket with him.You'll wait until the mood passes and give him his space.You can feel his stare digging into you as the opening soundtrack plays, but you manage to keep your focus on the screen. For a couple of minutes you two sit like this.

"Why're ya bein' like that?" He accuses.

"Like what?" You snap your head to him, eyes widening as you see him sit up, blanket falling off his shoulders and into his lap.

"Distant." He huffs, looking away from you. "Y-you said you treasure what's precious to ya, right?"

Your heart is about to fucking explode. You don't waste a minute, wrapping your arm around his and tugging at him to face you.

"You looked upset, so I wanted to give you your space." You utter, softly. "Would you be ok if I joined you under the blanket?"

He scoffs, lifting the blanket up and over you. "Like ya even hav'ta ask." Earlier in the night than you've anticipated, he cuddles into your side with his head resting on your chest. You can't read his face from this angle, but a subdued purr rumbling through him assures you he's comfortable.

You two sit like this throughout the first half of the movie. It's an interesting premise concentrated on the love between a demon of nobility and a commoner of great strength who has been hired to train the noble in the art of war. Later on, it's revealed that the commoner's unprecedented strength is due to them being an illegitimate child of a Great General of the East. The noble's father, a Recordkeeper, has hidden away documents proving the commoner's lineage at their father's request. Thus, they come to the castle under the guise of an instructor and soon find their plans disrupted when they begin to fall for the Recordkeeper's heir.

Your curiosity is piqued as displays of what you presume is affection come onto the screen. "Hey Mam, I thought they liked each other, so why are they wrestling like that right now?"

It's a more violent display than you expect, but you're entranced as their jaws snap, teeth are bared, and claws dig into skin. The leads throw each other against any surface within the weapon storehouse, stopping the other before they can plan an escape. You look down at Mammon to find him hiding his face into your shirt, the tips of his ears tinged red.

"It's a show of strength." He mumbles into your shirt.

"A show of strength...," you repeat thoughtfully, "is that common in courtship here?"

Mammon groans, hiding further into your shirt. "I don'wanna talk about this. Don't they teach ya shit like that in your Demon Studies course or somethin'?"

"Unfortunately, no. The topic has never come up." Demon Studies has solely focused on social, political, and institutional relationships within the Devildom. Nothing interpersonal as far as you can remember.

"What?! Well they should, some silly 'ol human isn't gonna just pick up on that."

"Well," you drag your fingers through his hair, "think you could enlighten me?"

He peeks up at you with a glare. "Whad'ya wanna know?" The topic seems sensitive, so you tread lightly.

"Could you tell me what a common courtship is like here? You don't have to be detailed or anything. Like, are there steps?" Most of the romance movies you've seen during your time here have been pirated by Leviathan from the human realm.

Again, Mammon hides his face from you. You are about to suggest you two move past the topic when he finally speaks up.

"Yeah. Yeah there are steps." You stay silent, but keep running your hand through his hair.

"Y'noticed how the noble started sendin' letters? Or how once they got a response from the sword swinger they started includin' trinkets or whatever with 'em?" A moment of silence passes and he peeks up at you. It hits you that he's waiting on you to respond.

You smile bashfully. "Oh, yes! Yes, I noticed."

He huffs. "It started then. Goin' all out with gifts, tryin' to impress each other like lunatics."

"Are trinkets usually given?" You ask.

"Mm," he hums, "yeah, but gifts are as varied as demons. Some prefer other things: food, poems, flowers, the heart of your greatest enemy, buncha stuff."

"Huh-" Did you hear that correctly?

"The heart of your greatest enemy?" You parrot.

"What, ya sayin' humans don't do that anymore?" You shake your head.

"None that I've met at least." You don't doubt that humans have done it at some point in time, but it sounds more like some distant wartime practice from the Middle Ages or earlier.

"Still happens here. It's a show of strength and dedication, proof ya can kick any ass that comes threatinin' your potential mate." He seems to be relaxing more and more as you delve deeper into the topic.

"So, the wrestling...?"

"Show of strength. They're pretty equally matched, even though the lovebirds run in different circles. Makes 'em decent partners at least." You feel your mind expanding with the revelation that this scene is way deeper than you've realized. Despite the commoner's standing, they've been in control for most of the wrestling match.

"Ooooh!" You take a minute to ponder.

"So, demons won't usually go for someone weaker than them?"

"Bingo."

You wonder what this means for you two. You certainly aren't as strong enough as a demon, and especially not as strong as the Avatar of Greed.

You lose your train of thought as Mammon sits up more to face you, poking you in the forehead.

"Doesn't mean they never will." You relax your face at his touch, you hadn't realized it was scrunched up so much.

"It's not all about how tough ya are. It's 'bout how they make ya feel too. A courtship is pretty serious stuff, you don't pursue somethin' that intense with just any old schmuck."

Mammon's eyes follow your hand as it reaches to fiddle with the golden pendant he gifted you. In the middle lies some gemstone you can't find in the human world. It's clear with specks of gold and blue. He blushes and coughs into his fist.

"If it continues after that, it gets pretty serious pretty fast. Ya start scentin' each others stuff, which is a pretty ballsy move."

Your eyebrows jump up at this unexpected development. "Scenting...?"

"Yeah, puttin' your scent out so they know who ya belong to. No human nose is gonna pick up on somethin' subtle like that, but it's there." Wait, so does that mean-

"Is the house scented? Can it just be anything?" Mammon looks at you as if you've just grown another head.

"Huh?! No!" Embarrassment warms your cheeks.

"Why would we go wastin' energy like that? That's crazy. If anything is scented, it's intentional and nothin' time consumin'." You shrug your shoulders.

"Ah, ok. I didn't know." You fiddle some more with the pendant, looking away from him.

"Ack, no don't feel bad!" His face is just as flushed as yours, but he continues. "You didn't ask anything stupid. There's no way ya could've known!" You can't stop the giddy grin that pulls at your lips as he attempts to comfort you. You face him again.

"So, what happens next? If you're already doing something like that, aren't you practically together?"

"Practically, but not officially." He grumbles. "Buncha kids go around scentin' each other thinkin' they're in love. The scent fades as fast as the feelin's." He runs a hand through his hair with a sigh.

"It's official when ya make it official. A spoken agreement between partners. No bullshittin'."

"That's it?" You try to sidestep the microscopic lens of human tunnel vision, but a spoken agreement feels less official than marriage in the human world. Joint assets, joint families, and rings as proof of being claimed.

"Whad'ya mean "that's it?"?! All and everything you really feel. Ya gotta say it and ya gotta mean it. It's a bindin' contract that's a bitch to ever try and break." It clicks for you then. A demon's word is binding.

"Like a pact, but for romantic partners?"

Mammon ponders for a moment before he nods. "That's not too far off. Little more goes into it, but it's complicated." The lull that comes after feels like the end of the conversation, so you take your chance.

"Mammon, has anyone tried courting you before?"

"Hah, of course!" His grin is as smug as it always is. "Who wouldn't want to take a chance to be with The Great Mammon?" He laughs to himself, but you wonder-

"Have you ever accepted an attempt?" You're curious.

"Uh-" The question catches him off guard. "Y-yeah. A handful of times, but it never went anywhere." You're a little disappointed, but you swallow down your pride. It would be more concerning if he'd never tried to find love throughout the milleniums he's lived.

You shift your line of questioning. You'd rather focus on the present and this momentous opportunity lined up before you.

"So, say I were to get you something. What would you like?" You've never seen his head whip around so fast, truly inhuman speed as he jumps back from you and slams into the headboard.

"The hell, MC?!" His face, ears, and what you can see of his neck, everywhere is flushed at your implication. This is just as embarrassing for you, but you feel emboldened by the security of your room, the sweet scent of honey in the air, and the declarations of love coming from the movie that still runs in the background.

"What about a pendant to match mine? Would you wear something like that if I got it for you?" You've come so close. You won't give up now.

"W-why would I want somethin' like that?" You know it's a deflection. He wouldn't have stayed with you, here and now, if it wasn't. But, you're tired of it. You only want it if he wants it too. No bullshitting, right?

"Nevermind then, Mam. Don't worry, I won't get you anything. I don't want to make you uncomfortable." You reach for the remote that fell to the floor during all the commotion. "We don't have to finish the mo-"

You squeal in shock as Mammon throws himself into you. It's enough force to knock you back onto the pillows sprawled all over. You're speechless as he hides his face into your neck. He's never gotten this close to you.

"S'fine." His grip on you tightens. "A matching necklace, s'good."

You can't contain yourself. "Mam, look at me."

He hums but doesn't move.

"Mammon, look at me." You're gentle with him as you cup his cheeks.

"Seriously, you would accept it?"

"Now you're just bein' cruel. I said it's good, didn't I?!" You can feel the sting of tears building. You don't think you've ever been this happy.

You rub your thumbs over his cheeks. "Hey, Mam?"

"Whatd’ya want now?"

"Can I kiss you?"

In an instant, you're pressed back into the pillows, Mammon's lips on yours. It's not fireworks like humans talk about, nor the clashing of fangs as demons might do. It's tender and filled with a longing buried deep within the soul. It's messy. It's unexpected. It's perfect.

You pull back to catch your breath and are touched by the unshed tears in Mammon's glassy eyes. It seems the sensation was mutual.

"I love you, Mam."

You can figure out what this means for you two going forward tomorrow. You can ask about the callouses on his hands or for the stories of hardship behind the scars. You can discuss where courtships went wrong for you both, talk through your communication struggles, and love each other openly without fear. You're just so happy, really, that he'll let you love him.

"I love ya too, MC." He settles back into your arms, and you two lay there for some time, movie all but forgotten.

It's when the credits roll that Mammon shoots up, rushing to grab his jacket.

"Ah, shit!" He digs into his jacket pockets, pulling out a couple bags of hellfire twists. Your shared favorite movie treat.

"I meant to give this to ya earlier. So, ya know, we could have a snack during the movie." You chuckle at him as he rubs the back of his neck.

"We still can. Ever heard of ``To Capture a Beating Heart”?"