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venusimi · 2 years

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Love hurts everyone: Those who play with fire

SPOILERS FOR LESSON 6 AND 16‼️

PROMPT: "Please stop! You're scaring me..."

Lucifer x GN!MC

Hurt/comfort, yelling, major injury

Everyone knew of the fallen angel Lucifer, the avatar or Pride. The only one who can rival the avatar of wrath's deep rooted hatred and rage. The creator of wrath himself.

Everyone knew of his temperament. Even the second born in cautious not to play with too much fire.

But you...

You were different.

You helped calm him down when no one could.

You were brave enough to face against him when protecting Luke.

And only you were capable of dying once only to come back.

You truly unique, not any normal human. It got them interested in you but most importantly the eldest. How can one be so fragile yet be so robust? It's a mystery, a mystery that drives him insane and he loves it.

No one had challenged him this much before, you were the first to test his limits. His patience. His everything and it felt satisfying, his skin tingles with your image in his mind.

He loves you.

But sometimes, his rage gets the better of him. And he sees nothing but red.

"Lucifer! Please-!" You called for him, yet he continues to gather more power. You were afraid of what that might do to you if he released it all in one go.

The demon has had a terrible week, far more worst than the usual worst and it drove him insane for the bad reasons.

Your persistence on getting him to rest led to this.

He continues to breathe in rage, so you step closer hoping he'd hear you. "Lucifer!"

You draw closer.

The pressure becomes intense yet you keep pushing through.

Then you touched him.

But he jerked his arms away with a roar, "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

You tumble away like a ragdoll, you laid for a while before forcing yourself up. You were bleeding quite a lot. Considering how angry he is, it's not a surprise.

Your vision was blurred and your head throbbed with ache.

You breathed heavier, hoping to catch the breathe that was knocked out of your lungs.

You hadn't noticed how the younger demon brothers were shielding you from him when Belphegor had finally held you in his arms.

Their faces were fierce but through your pact, you know how afraid they are.

Lucifer continues to roar in anger, then he turns towards you.

His wings were puffed up to show who is dominant between the him and the others, and it's working because the brothers cower in fear.

"Move." He says in a low tone.

No one moves.

"We can't let ya hurt 'em!" Mammon yelled, he had always been defying his brother but whatever he said now had clear fear in it.

"You promised Diavolo you'd protect them!" Beelzebub reminded him.

"And I entrusted that job to Mammon. Now move."

"No!" Satan's tail whipped around in an angry frenzy, like a distressed dog.

His wings grew wider.

"P-Please stop!" Your voice wavered in fear,

"...You're scaring me..." Your voice was so small he could barely hear it but the genuine fear in your eyes as you stare at him struck his heart.

You stared at him like he was a monster.

Then he smells the blood, you were coated in red. And not the beautiful kind.

He drops it all.

Everything.

The anger.

The irritation.

The feelings from this past week was suddenly nothing other than the crushing feeling of guilt.

Letting his pride down, he reverts and looks away with wide petrified eyes as he looks at his own hands as though he had killed you.

Killed you like Belphegor had...

If his brothers weren't there then you would have...

Surely- No... No no...

Can't be! He swore to protect you!?

"...I'm... I'm sorry." He whispers through the shock.

He melts down to the floor, then silence. You stare at his fragile state.

He looked so fragile and vulnerable. Nothing you've ever seen, he didn't want you to see him like that because he was the eldest. The strongest just below the royals themselves.

You stumble towards him, "Lucifer..."

He can't move.

So you kneel in front of him. Your hands clutching your arms, blood and all.

You slowly, very, bring your hands up to his face.

He flinches.

"Lucifer... Hey, look at me. I'm okay." He looks at you, his eyes scanning your every skin.

Tears were brimming his eyes, but upon seeing your injuries and the blood that coated you. They fell. "You... You're not okay! You're- You're hurt and I-... I hurt you." He struggles to speak.

His words slurred together but it made sense. You heard him.

The large gash across your arms and face was no mistake. The gaping hole on your head was as clear as day, and you clearly fractured a bone somewhere in your leg.

Yet you insisted on being fine.

Blood ran down your nose.

"I'm sorry... But I'm not dead, you didn't kill me."

"...I hurt you."

"And I'm alive. You won't do it again, I know you won't."

You stare at him.

He falls his head on your shoulder, he chants apologies as you held each other until eventually fatigue washed over you.

The effects of the injuries has caught on.

But it's okay.

Because once you woke up, Lucifer was right there.

Asleep. Resting for once.

Peaceful.

And he looked better than before, less stressed but still very much worried.

Once he opens his eyes, he'll never let you go.

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fluffimemes · 2 years

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A fistfight CAN be romantic.

- Belphegor

#lesson 16 #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me shitpost #obey me memes #obey me incorrect quotes #incorrect obey me quotes #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons

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pomstr4wberr · 1 year

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✦. ⊹ ˚ .꒰୧ ‧₊˚ 🍫 ꒰ I JUST WANNA BE HOLD. ꒱♡ ⌎ ˊᗜˋ

୧ ‧₊˚ 🥛 ꒰ Hurt / no comfort???? ꒱♡ ⌎ ˊᗜˋ

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍭 ꒰ GN reader - you/your/I ꒱♡ ⌎

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 SPOLIERS FOR Lesson 6teen. Obey me ꒱♡ ⌎ ˊᗜˋ

୧ ‧˚ 🍼 ꒰ TW: death, angst ꒱♡

NOTE : this is a obey me fic. :> reader is just in pain and wants to be held before they "die".

HOW could have this happen? You just wanted to help him. You wanted him to have some freedom. He was like a bird caged in forever. You knew that he wasn't a human, but still, it wasn't right for his own brother to lock him up.

Now he has his hands around your neck. He talks about how disgusting humans were, orrr, something like that...

Small ragged gasps were escaping my throat. His palms pressed against my throat; I could feel my esophagus closing. I cried out as his hands neared my neck. He kept on gripping my neck harder, it hurts. It feels like some liquid is overflowing my mouth.

Oh, it's my saliva. It's dripping out my mouth. He looks disgusted at me. My vision goes Blurrier, I see black dots in my vision.

I hate this. I don't wanna die yet. I still have my pet to take care of. I did nothing wrong towards him.

WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWH WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY

I remembered when I was little, I wanted to be held and be around the ones I loved in my final moments. But I can't even do that. How did I have to pick for this program?

Please, I just someone to hold me... someone please hold me, hold me in my final moments please anybody. Hold me.... that is my last wish, I want to be held..

I blacked out, and I felt my body go limp. He laughs, and I felt my body hit the ground. I can feel liquid dripping down my face.

#PomWriting #obey me x reader #gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #angst #lesson 16 #obey me #obey me x gn reader #StrawpomsWriting

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divinedecay · 11 months

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To Begin Anew

Prompt: @your-neighborhood-emo and I write an actual conversation between MC and Belphegor post lesson 16. Neither of us were fond of how the game just never acknowledged what happened properly Pairing: Belphegor & MC (platonic) Word Count: 4,527 Warnings: Mentions of violence typical to lesson 16 depictions, intense self-hatred, heavy topic discussion, MC has trauma A/N: this was technically written in 2020, but better late posting than never I suppose. there’s a super short playlist for this fic, that can be found here. Also available on ao3.

You tried so hard to forget.

You wanted so badly to forget. You didn't want to remember the hands closing around your neck, the pressure of his weight above you, the cruel smile, the malicious look in his eyes. You didn't want to flinch every time someone reached for you, didn't want to be afraid just by seeing him. You needed to forget. On top of that, you'd taken a liking to Belphegor. Before. You hated, despised, that you'd let yourself like him. But no, despite it all, all the manipulation, the lies, you'd seen the man he had been before everything. The man he could be again.

So you had tried. You'd tried so hard. And you were rewarded with hands around your throat. You faintly touched your neck; a ghost of a touch, but the motion still sent a tremble through your body. You swallowed, wishing you could just forget. If you forgot, you wouldn't be afraid anymore. You would be able to sleep again, without nightmares to plague you. You shook your head, leaning your back against the wall as you stretched your legs out across the bed. The nightmares were the worst.

His laugh haunted you in your dreams, the pressure, the malice, not being able to breathe. They chased you through the night and woke you with screams and made you shake and cry.

The whole thing made you glad you'd been avoiding him.

What were you supposed to do? Forgive him on the spot? He'd killed you, murdered you in cold blood, and everyone wanted you to just forgive him like it was that easy. Like being murdered shouldn't phase you. The only one who hadn't was Mammon, and you thanked hell that he was your best friend, because if he wasn't you might have gone insane. Everyone simply just... forgave Belphegor instantly, and you hadn't been prepared to witness that, as if your life hadn't mattered in that moment. It probably hadn't. The only thing that stilled Belphegor's hand was the fact that you were a very, very, very distant descendant of Lilith. Not because you were you, or because you had tried to help him. No. Because you had a single tiny amount of Lilith in you.

The whole thing pissed you off. Why shouldn't it? You were mad at Belphegor for killing you, at the brothers for forgiving him so quickly, at Lilith for being the only reason you weren't killed a second time, and... at yourself. For so, so many reasons. For not seeing the whole thing coming, for trusting him, for the whole situation in the first place. But mostly, you were angry at yourself because some small part of you missed him. You missed talking to him, and some tiny part of you had wanted to forgive him instantly. It was bullshit. Complete bullshit. So you were angry because that was easier than being terrified all the time.

You shift on your bed, burying your face into your pillow and letting out a scream of frustration. Why had you tangled yourself up in this mess? Why couldn't you have just minded your own business? You opened your mouth to scream again, to scream until your throat was raw and your voice silent, just to release all the emotions pent up inside you. Then you heard the soft knock at your door.

You groaned, pushing yourself out of bed and padding over to the door, rubbing your eyes as you opened it slightly.

"I told you, Mammon, I'm not in the mo-" then you caught sight of who it was, and slammed the door shut out of sheer panic. Why was he here? Why?

"Y/N-" you think you might hear a tremor in his voice, but push the thought away. He'd manipulated you before; this could be an act, too.

"Go away." You press your back to your door and sink to the floor, the panic of merely seeing him rising in your chest. You try to steady your breathing, taking deep breaths while listening carefully for any response.

Nothing comes.

You let out a breath and pick up your D.D.D and earbuds, press shuffle on your favourite playlist at the moment, then lean your head back against the door as the music fills your brain. You let yourself drown in the noise for a long while, let your thoughts float away as you close your eyes.

When you finally open your eyes and pick back up your D.D.D, you realize that you must have fallen asleep. It's several hours later, and you're sore all over. The only thing not in line with this was the fact that you hadn't had a nightmare. Pushing yourself up off the floor, you listen quietly at your door.

Nothing.

Good, you thought, I can go get food.

You hadn't eaten since lunch, and it was now approaching one in the morning. Suffice to say, your stomach was growling. You open your door slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible, and step outside. And if you hadn't been more perceptive, you might've missed the form sitting just to the left of you, slumped against the wall and fast asleep.

Belphegor.

Your heart skipped a beat, your pulse speeding up slightly before you took a quiet breath and calmed down. He was sleeping. Just sleeping. Outside your door.

But why? Has he been here this whole time? Since he first knocked?

You peer closer, at the look on his face behind his hair. His eyebrows are pulled together, his mouth in a frown. As you stared, you slowly took in more of his expression, more of the tenseness in his body. The whole thing screamed terror.

You shook your head, watching him for a moment longer before slipping away to the kitchen. You hesitated as you grabbed your food, then grabbed a second plate. You didn't know what made you do it. Maybe it was the terror in his form. Maybe it was base kindness. Maybe it was simply an impulse. You quietly set the extra plate next to Belphegor, then slip back into your room. You stare at your D.D.D. for a moment, then open the message app and click Belphegor's name.

You're welcome.

Shakily, you hit send. It's the closest thing to an olive branch you can give. Maybe you couldn't forgive him right away. Maybe he shouldn't be forgiven. But... maybe you could try. You had a feeling that him falling asleep outside your door hadn't been for nothing. That maybe, just maybe, Belphegor, the Avatar of Sloth, had wanted to save you from your nightmares. To try and help heal the hurt he caused.

Maybe.

You wondered if he would respond or if he would even bother to try to talk to you again. You weren't sure if you wanted him too or not.

Your answer came an hour and a half later in the form of a knock on your door.

He opened his eyes to the familiar sight of the hallway. He knew he was safe in the House of Lamentation, but that didn't stop the pounding of his heart, the sweating, or the panic he felt. For a minute, his mind is blank, then it kicks into gear, in some capacity. He'd just experienced everything, everything, in your nightmares. Everything he did. Everything he said. The look in his eyes, the cruel smile, the laugh.

He had felt your pure terror, the despair, the pain, the sense of betrayal. It rattled him. No, it wrecked him. He had known what he would experience when he made the decision to try and take away your nightmares with his powers - it was an exchange; you went nightmare free when he slept near you, but he took on the nightmares himself - he had known they would be terrible. But he hadn't expected this. He glanced toward your door.

You'd been going through this for two weeks? And he had caused it. Another thought hit him like Cerebus in a rage, trampling him beneath massive paws.

He had only stopped because of Lilith.

He would have tried to kill you again if not for the fact that you had a little piece of Lilith in you. And you knew that. It was true, he did see a little of Lilith in your soul, in the way you were stubborn and determined to help. But you were still you. And he, in his actions, had stripped that away. He knew, deep down, that he had made you feel as if your life wasn't important if you weren't tied to Lilith.

Fuck, I'd run from me, too...

He pulled out his D.D.D, and rubbed his eyes when he saw he had one new message. From you. Was he still dreaming? He had to be.

You're welcome, the message said. He was confused, just for a moment. Then he saw the plate. It was full of his favourite things to eat.

He lost something then, staring at that plate of food. You were terrified of him. He'd killed you. He’d been the source of all your anxieties and nightmares. But despite all of that, you had thought to bring him food? No, he hadn't just lost something, he'd shattered it. Shattered it with the knowledge that he didn't deserve your forgiveness. He didn't deserve to even be in the same vicinity as you. You avoided him, you panicked when you saw him, you had been reliving the nightmare of him killing you every single night for the past two weeks. And he manipulated you, he lied to you, he betrayed your trust, but you had it within your heart to still be kind to him? Not only be kind but to remember his favourite foods?

He felt a sob rise in his throat and he shoved it down, deep down.

No. He did not deserve your forgiveness.

But maybe he could try to earn it.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, he had shut down to prevent himself from crying as he contemplated what he could possibly even bother to say to you. Eventually, though, he got something like a vague plan. He had never been good with words anyway - he suppressed a snort, mind drifting to how he was more of an actions demon, but his actions were what had caused this in the first place - and what he could say would never be enough. The closest he had come to show even a semblance of regret to you was what he had just done - stolen your nightmare away. But it was time he told you how he felt, what he thought - if you would let him.

He wasn't sure what he would do if you didn't let him, but you would be valid to do so. Even he wasn't sure if he would let himself talk, had he been in your place. But he had to try.

He had to try.

He pushed himself up off the floor and knocked on your door for the second time that night.

You place your hand on the doorknob, hesitating before letting go of the handle altogether.

“Who is it?” You know who it is, it wouldn’t be anyone else. But you can’t bring yourself to open the door and look at him. Not yet.

It’s quiet for a long, agonizing minute before the answer comes.

“It’s Belphie,” his voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. “Can we talk?” You hear the pause, hear something like hesitation in his tone. It’s the hesitation that finally puts your hand back on the doorknob and turns it.

You were anxious, you couldn’t deny that. As you opened the door it felt like your heart might beat out of your chest. The what-ifs were running through your brain at a million miles an hour, but you ignored them as best as you could. This was something you both needed.

That didn’t stop you from avoiding his eyes as he walked into your room, though.

You watch him as he stands in the middle of your room, and you can feel the palpable awkwardness between the two of you. But there’s something else there, too. Fear.

You both just stand there for a long while, letting the silence stretch out. You study him intently, waiting. For what, you aren’t sure; but you watch and wait. To you, he’s a ticking time bomb and, right now, you’re waiting for him to explode to see exactly what kind of bomb this will be.

It feels like it’s been an eternity when Belphegor finally opens his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” the words come out hesitantly, “I know there’s nothing I can possibly say to make it better, but I want to try. If you’ll let me.” There’s a pause, and you watch him swallow. His whole body language screams that he’s uncomfortable and, to your surprise, afraid. Desperate. “I know, after what I did, that I don’t deserve a second chance. And I understand if you don’t want to give me one.” The next words are so quiet that you barely catch them. “I know I wouldn’t.” The words are filled with so much hate that it catches you off guard, and it takes you a minute to realize that the hate in his tone isn’t directed at you.

It’s at himself.

You realize you’ve been staring at him, wide-eyed, for too long when the next words that come out of his mouth are “I don’t even know why I’m here.” The words are filled with anger, and you can only watch as the war in his head plays out. “I don’t know why I’m here begging for forgiveness that I don’t deserve.” His fists are clenched by his sides now, and, though you know his anger is at himself, you still take a step back.

He freezes, you watch his whole body go rigid the instant you step back. Emotions flit through his eyes and across his face so fast that they’re hard to read. But the one thing you do catch outside of anger, the thing that cracks your heart despite everything, is anguish. It rests in his eyes, in the expression on his face, in the slump of his shoulders. It radiates off of him so strongly, consumes him so perfectly, that, had you not already been speechless you would have completely lost all words. He grabs his head, squats down, and you can only watch.

“I’m already fucking this up and I’m sorry,” the words are laced with so much anger and sorrow that you swear the whole room fills up with it, “I’m sorry, I’m not used to this and I know, I know, that’s not an excuse, but it’s all I’ve got.” His voice breaks as he utters the last two words: “I’m sorry.”

You can only stare as your brain tries to process what’s happening. Before… everything… you spent a lot of time with Belphegor. You know this is uncomfortable for him, that he’s much more of a demon of action than a demon of words. He doesn’t like to use words to communicate, he isn’t used to speaking his mind, he speaks through actions. How were you supposed to communicate to someone whether they were forgiven or not when they have made themselves uncomfortable beyond belief just to communicate that they were sorry through words? You open your mouth and close it, well and truly speechless.

You have no idea what to say or what to do, and your emotions are all over the place. You’re still scared, yes, but above everything else you’re confused. There’s no protocol for this, no class that tells you how to communicate something this insanely tremendous. You let yourself sink to the floor, eyes still trained on Belphegor. It hits you then that, since you’ve been avoiding him at all costs and his brothers have mainly been with you… he’s been alone. He’s been working through all of this alone. Lilith, his return, the fact that he’d killed you. All of it. Alone. He’s been alone in his thoughts for two weeks. And maybe he deserved it... But you knew what it was like to be alone with your thoughts, to be socially isolated, to not have anyone to turn to.

He had, in the span of a couple of hours, been told that his little sister had died but hadn’t, she had lived as a human. He had been told that the human he’d then turned around and killed was a distant descendant of Lilith’s. He had had to work through that everything seemed a little too perfect but was still true. He had been accepted back into the House of Lamentation, but not fully welcomed back in socially. For two weeks he had been trying to work through it on his own, And the one person who might have understood? Who would have listened to him and tried to help? He had killed them, betrayed their trust, and now, for good reason, they were scared of him.

So now here he was, having a complete mental break on your floor; and for that, you couldn’t blame him.

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” his anger at himself is rising, boiling over and he can’t stop it because the war in his head is splitting him apart. “I don’t know why I’m here begging for forgiveness that I don’t deserve.” He clenches his fists, more frustrated and angry at himself than he’s ever been. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees something flicker across your face and you take a step back.

His whole body goes rigid.

Now you’ve done it, the little voice in the back of his head chimes, the one thing you didn’t want to do. They will never forgive you.

The sadness hits him first; it rolls through him and seeps down into his bones. He hadn’t wanted you to back away, to be afraid. He wanted to try to explain, to try and make it right. But he ruined even that. His anger at himself crashes over him all over again, self-loathing filling him up and swallowing him whole. He had one thing he said he wouldn’t do - scare you - and he had gone and done just that. Something in him breaks, then. It cracks and falls apart and he doesn’t even try to hold it together. He just puts his head in his hands, digs his fingers into his hair, and squats down in the middle of your room.

He was nothing, less than nothing. He was worth about as much as the dirt outside. Less than that because at least the dirt did something useful. All he seemed to be able to do was lie, manipulate, hurt, and kill. A laugh bubbled in his throat but he shoved it down, knowing that if he started laughing that would be it, he would lose it and he wasn’t sure he would be able to come back from that.

“I’m already fucking this up,” he pushes the words out of his mouth, “and I’m sorry.” He knows his words are laced with anger and agony but he needs to say them before it’s too late. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to this and I know, I know, that’s not an excuse, but it’s all I’ve got. I’m sorry.” He hears his voice break but he can’t bring himself to care. All he does is hurt you, what does it matter if he’s hurting right now? You deserve better than this- this mess on your floor. Fuck, you deserved to live in the first place. To not have to live in fear, to not flinch at every touch. But he had ripped that from you with cold eyes, a cruel laugh, and hands around your throat. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, he didn’t deserve anything from you at all. Maybe that was why you still hadn’t spoken. He doesn’t even deserve to hear your voice, so why should you speak to him?

He sees then, just barely in his vision, you sink down to the floor, to his level, and a small, minuscule spark of hope kindles inside him. Maybe. Maybe you’re going to forgive him. Maybe you’ll tell him it’s okay, that you two can work something out. Maybe he can do something to make up for everything. He sees your hand reach out, hesitant, as if you might touch him, then it pulls away and he knows you think he might still hurt you. And it wrecks him all over again.

“I’m sorry,” his words come out broken, but once he’s started he can’t stop. “I’m sorry that I’m worthless. I’m sorry I’m hopeless, that I’m beyond redemption. I’m sorry I-” he keeps going, the words, for once, pouring out of his mouth and falling off his tongue. He apologizes for anything, everything until he isn’t even sure what he’s apologizing for anymore. “I’m sorry for exis-”

“Don’t say that!” You cut across him, but he keeps going anyway.

“I’m sorry for existing.” As the words leave his mouth he knows they’re right, knows that they were what he needed to say. All his existence did was cause pain to everyone around him. Why shouldn’t he be sorry for existing? He turns his head away from you - he doesn’t deserve to look at you, anyway - so he doesn’t see your face when you open your mouth.

“No, Belphie,” his head snaps to you, faint hope igniting once again. You’d called him Belphie. Not Belphegor, Belphie. “That’s not what I want from this,” you say, and the faint hope dares to get a little stronger. “I’m not like you-” he doesn’t hear the rest of your words. He doesn’t need to. Any hope he had left, along with what was left of his heart, drop and shatter all over your floor as he stares at you. Of course. Of course, you weren’t like him. Why would you want to be? Why would anyone?

He shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t have come near you. He shouldn’t have dared come to ask for something he didn’t deserve.

I’m not like you.

He sees the effect of your words register on your face, but he’s already moving, already off the floor and running toward your door.

You see your words register on Belphegor’s face, and it hits you a second too late that he only heard the words ‘I’m not like you.’ The pure heartbreak on his face rips into you and it’s almost like you can see his heart shatter onto your floor. The shock of it puts you so off guard that you’re almost too slow to catch him as he darts toward your door. Your hands latch onto his arm, fingers digging into his jacket, and had he not frozen upon contact you're sure that he would have easily ripped away from you.

You just look at him for a second, thinking it would be easier if you hated him. But you don’t, you never have. That was what had made his betrayal so hard, but it was also part of what drove your desire to start trying to forgive him now.

You briefly consider what you should do, running through the possibilities. He’s not looking at you, still frozen from the shock of contact. You could start talking, start explaining. You could say that you still needed time, but that you were willing to try. You could. But Belphegor was about actions and not words. Your best option here is to speak to him in his language and you know that. But part of you still hesitates, for good reason. The last time you were this close to Belphegor, the last time you touched him...

You would be lying if you told yourself you weren’t scared. You were terrified. But you had also seen Belphegor’s face and heard in his tone the genuine, heartbreaking remorse. That didn’t make everything better, but it did give you the knowledge that he was wholly and genuinely sorry. From what you knew of him, he wasn’t ever one to say sorry. And you saw what it did to him, trying to ask for forgiveness with words. It was different from the attic. Maybe he was different, too.

So despite it all, you made a decision. You were still scared and hesitant - who wouldn’t be? - and you still needed time. But he had tried… Maybe you could too.

You slowly release your grip on his arm and, before he can start running away again, step in front of him. You look into his eyes for the first time that night, taking in all the pain there. Both of you are two kinds of broken, the kind that takes a lifetime to heal. But maybe you can both start now.

Of all the things he thought you might do when you stepped in front of him, this was not one of them. His entire body stops functioning. His heart feels like it might pound out of his chest, his brain short circuits, he forgets how to breathe. Your arms are around his neck, pulling him down to you, and he doesn't know what to do with his hands. His whole body trembles as his hands hover an inch away from your back. The last time he touched you he did something he could never take back, and this entire situation was so beyond belief that he was almost convinced he must be dreaming.

"It's okay," he hears your voice near his ear, soft and soothing and he realizes he must be trembling a lot more than he thought if you're comforting him. His thoughts screech to a halt.

You're comforting him.

You're hugging him.

The touch of hope you're offering to him, the chance at forgiveness he doesn't deserve, barrels into him and he lets go and buries his face into your shoulder and tangles his hands in your shirt. All of the emotions at once are too much for him to process, so he doesn't. He lets his emotions crash into him like waves as he clings to you, daring to hope that you won't let go.

After a moment, he starts to feel you shaking with him. You're crying now, just like him, and he can understand why. He knows this is agonizing for you. It couldn't be anything but agonizing. He'd been in your nightmares, he'd experienced what you've been reliving every single night for two weeks. A dream that started with a hug and ended with death. To hug him now, to even let him touch him, is so monumental for you. He knew the thought that he might still try to kill you had to be in the back of your mind, and he didn't blame you. Hell, he wouldn't have blamed you if you never touched him again. But here you were, holding him close and not letting go.

It was a start.

#obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me #obey me fanfic #belphegor fanfic #lesson 16 #listen the game doesnt address any of this and it needed addressing

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vibingandwriting · 2 years

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If I was MC after lesson 16 (which there will be spoilers for in this post) I would milk the fuck out of it.

Belphie complains about me eating his food? I'd say, "Remember that time when you strangled me after I freed you from the attic and then forgave you almost immediately? Anyway, what were you saying?"

I'd do it so often that he stops feeling bad and starts getting super annoyed but it's not like he could call me out on it because he freaking strangled me after I freed him from the attic and then I forgave him for it almost immediately.

#lesson 16 #obey me spoilers #obey me #shall we date?#belphegor #really though that still annoys me #like i like belphie but come on #i dont even get to slap him after that?

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dear-departed · 2 years

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Three weeks

Short little drabble, I hope you enjoy this as much as I didn't. Love you though, don't have fun <3

Lesson 16 spoilers ahead (warnings below cut for people who don't want the spoilers)

Warnings: Angst. Heavy angst. Angry Satan, delusions, grief, timeline where MC is super dead, all caps because this is a drabble and not a fic and I wrote this at 6 in the morning and could give less of a shit about grammar or whatever

Brief: Mammon convinces himself that MC is alive and it causes drama

Word count: 1.2K

Three weeks since MC’s death.

Three weeks since the youngest of the demon brothers strangled MC to death. Since Mammon saw his human’s corpse laying on the floor, their throat mangled with claw marks marring their beautiful skin. Belphie’s tail had left harsh lines on their legs, and the blood coating his youngest brother’s fingers were telling of the pain they’d endured before they’d died.

Belphegor. The same, sweet, sleepy, brother, he’d taken to the amusement park with Beelzebub all those years ago. The same brother who innocently fell asleep in his soup every other night at dinner. Who he watched grow up.

MC. The same human who arrived in the Devildom from an exchange student program that Diavolo had arranged. The human who won his heart the first few days they were there, who made a pact with him. He was their first man.

His heart was crushed. He wanted to blame anyone else but Belphie, but anger overwhelmed him. How dare he rip MC from his grasp?

Every morning he woke up expecting them to respond to something from the silly little house of Lamentation group chat. He would burst into their room to see nothing. Their bed still messy from the last morning they’d woken up from.

To help with the hole in his heart, he began to impersonate them, he made a group chat with himself, using a spare phone and creating another contact with their name. He would talk back and forth with himself while crying, trying to think of how they would respond to certain things.

What he would give to have them of all people call him stupid again.

Eventually, though, things began to return to normal for him. Everyone else still grieved, Belphegor was still locked in the dungeon, everyone was depressed, but he started to seem happier, as if nothing had ever happened.

All of the brothers had taken at little time off from school, absolutely devastated after what had happened, so everyone just stayed in their room most of the day aside from meal time.

It was breakfast one morning, not a word was spoken as everybody picked at their food, even Beel was less ferocious than usual.

None of them could ignore the fact that Mammon was filling up a second plate. He was pouring another glass of MC’s favorite juice. He set it at the place beside himself, humming softly as he ate a little bit of egg.

Lucifer raised a brow, sipping on a hot cup of coffee. “Hungry today, Mammon?”

“Yep!” He ignored Lucifer’s implication.

“Mammon, move your other plate.” Leviathan had emerged from his room, the circles and bags beneath his eyes darker than normal.

“Get your own spot! MC’s gonna sit here!” Mammon huffed. “Damn otaku, you don’t get to boss me around.” He grumbled, stuffing another forkful of food into his mouth.

The room went dead silent. Nobody took another bite aside from Mammon, all of them just staring at him in sad astonishment.

Asmo’s lip quivered as he looked away, the sound of their name scraping against his ear drums like nails on a chalkboard.

“Mammon. Just move it.” Levi sighed, his heart heavy in his chest as he tried not to think of them, of their last moments together.

“No!” He snapped, forcefully putting his silverware down. “I’m sick of you all acting like MC doesn’t exist! How many damn times do I gotta tell you all?! They’re tired, they said they’ll be down in a minute!”

Lucifer couldn’t help but notice the white-knuckle grip Satan had on his fork, his hand shaking, jittering the table space around him, his glass of milk sloshing around in its cup.

The first born shook his head, glaring at Mammon. “Mammon, be quiet!” he scolded.

“Like you’re one to talk! You never knock to check up on them! They’d probably appreciate it if you at least acted like you care! -”

The Avatar of Greed was cut off by Satan, whose snout was wrinkled into an ugly sneer. He stabbed his fork into the table, standing to his feet and knocking his chair over. Angry tears flowed from his eyes, his face red. “MAMMON YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He screamed, his other hand gripping the table so hard his nails left marks in it.

“You get their name out of your lying-” he put one foot on the table, standing on top of it. “-Dirty-” he took a step closer, stomping on a plate of waffles “-slimy-” another step “-disgusting-” he tipped over a pitcher of juice with his foot, spilling it over Asmo’s lap, who broke out into sobs “-unworthy mouth!” He hopped off the edge of the table, now standing menacingly a few feet away from Mammon, who remained in his seat.

The second born said nothing.

“So now you’re playing the quiet game because I’m angry, hm?” Satan seethed out. He saw nothing but red, his whole body hot with rage.

“...No... I just don’t get why you all don’t like them so much! They’re nice when you get to know ‘em!” He stood up, taking a few hesitated steps backward.

“Are you crazy?! MC’s dead! They’re just fucking dead! And you need to stop living in your own goddamned dream land and wake the hell up and smell the roses!” Satan stalked toward him.

“Satan.” Beelzebub stood up, a sad look in his eyes. He knew when it came down to it, he would have to restrain the middle child, but he wasn’t up to it, especially not today.

Both brothers were already in their demon form, a low growl emitting from Satan’s throat. “Shut up, Beel.”

“Satan.” Beel repeated, now shifting into his demon form.

“Don’t ‘Satan’ me! How do we know you don’t think like him? Like that excuse for an avatar?!” The blonde whirled around to glower at the glutton. “How do we know you didn’t help him? What If you wanted them dead all along, too?”

“Don’t talk about Belphie like that. He was just...”

“HE WAS JUST WHAT, BEEL?” Satan’s voice shook as he screamed. “JUST A MONSTER? JUST... JUST A DUMBASS WHO KNOWS NO BOUNDS?!”

“I SAID DON’T TALK ABOUT MY BROTHER LIKE THAT!” Beel was now shouting back, his deep voice booming, the pain obvious as his tone was uneven.

“You threatened to kill them when you and Lucifer swapped bodies, Satan!” Asmo sobbed “don’t at like you’re so perfect!”

“Yes, Asmo. I did threaten to kill them. But I didn’t actually strangle them! I didn’t look at them and go ‘I should strangle this person who has done nothing but help me’. MC helped Belphegor and that heathen responded to them with nothing but violence!”

“THAT’S ENOUGH! All of you, settle down! Mammon, MC is gone, there is nothing we can do about it!” Lucifer unleashed his demon form, his silky black wings unfurling behind him.

“AND YOU! NONE OF THIS WOULD’VE FUCKING HAPPENED IF YOU DIDN’T CHOOSE THE WORST TIME TO PUT US OVER DIAVOLO! Of all of the times, we needed you, Lucifer! All the shit you’ve kept from us, all for Diavolo, you decide to lie to us through your stupid teeth just to try and protect Belphie?! And you both chose to house MC here when you knew there was a homicidal maniac in the attic?!”

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