Undateables and brothers with an MC playing with their horns
Brothers and Royals With A MC That Plays With Their Horns
For the sake of this fic, demon horns are going to be sensitive here. That's all I have to say. I'd play with Satan's horns any day.
Brothers and Dateables With A MC Touching their Wings here.
"I don't know why you insist on touching—ah, gentle."
A sigh escapes Lucifer when your fingers brush against the base of his horns. You can see the effect it has on the demon: he is now sighing in your lap, in bliss as you pet his horns.
"Are they sensitive?"
The demon shoots you a scowl. You chuckle, fingers finding their way again to the horns adorning his head. You already know the effect your touch has on him, reduced to a sighing mess, like a cat in pure bliss when you pet it.
But you like to tease Lucifer.
The next few moments pass in silence as you continue petting his horns, with your prideful demon in your lap. You can faintly hear the cacophony of the others in the hallway, but that's a noise you're both willing to ignore for the sake of each other.
But when another noise joins, Lucifer squints as he stares at the shiny object in your hand, and you freeze; having been caught in the act.
None of you move for a hot minute, with Lucifer staring at the offending item in your hand like it's going to bite his ankles, and you freeze in shame.
He closes his eyes again.
"Aren't you going to say anything?"
"Even if I do, you're still not going to cease your attempts."
You grin, resuming the action of placing the anklet on his horns, draping the jewellery carefully so that it doesn't tangle but neither falls off.
And when you look back to admire your work, you can imagine the halo that must have been on his head, brighter and shinier than any jewel.
You smile again at the scowling demon, resuming your ministrations on his horn and hair. You thought demon horns weren't sensitive, but here are you.
"Don't you dare."
But you dare. You know you're the only person Lucifer would ever allow to call him such atrocious titles and pet his hair, stroke his horns and place jewellery on them.
When your fingers brush at the tip, a noise escapes Lucifer.
Not a moan, not a sigh, not a gasp.
The rumbling noise is enough to tell the answer: it's a purr.
Lucifer Morningstar, Avatar of Pride and Eldest of the Seven Brothers, is now lying on your lap and purring like a cat as you stroke the horns adoring his head.
The horns are a replacement for the halo, another sign of the change he has undergone. With the jewels, the black horns are brought to life.
But no halo or jewellery can compare to the light the Morningstar radiates. Even in the darkest days and times, Lucifer shines the brightest, as he was intended too.
And you wouldn't have it any other way.
"Your horns are very useful."
You murmur, noticing how the demon immediately blushes at your statement. His horns are indeed, very useful. From the shape to their design—everything about them is unique. Including its use.
"I'm not a bottlescrew!"
You roll your eyes. "Sure you are," You declare, easing the wine bottle closer towards his horns. They're shaped like a corkscrew, but do they also work like that as well?
"No touching! Grrr!"
You raise your hands in defeat. "Alright, alright," You counter, gazing at the demon whose flustered by holding your hand to stop your movements. "Should I stop touching you then?"
The look on Mammon's face is worthy of a picture.
"No—Yes! AHHH! I mean—"
The demon splutters, stumbling over his own words as he blushes. You know it's all an act, that Mammon wants nothing more than you to touch him. He's always been greedy for you.
So you do.
Reaching out, you place a careful finger on the tip of the appendages on his head. The action immediately silences Mammon, who now stands frozen. You can see his eyes trace your every movement. Every careful stroke and touch, he observes with intensity.
And soon, it isn't long before Mammon is now draped in your lap, your hands soothingly massaging his horns and hair. You can feel him sigh in contentment as you card your fingers through his hair.
He's always been greedy for you.
And who are you to refuse?
He'd fit right in amongst the fishes.
That's the first thing you notice on seeing the coral horns on Levi's head. Given that water is his domain, his more 'demonic' parts would be that of a sea serpent and coral horns.
"Fishy," You whisper, gazing at the demon whose focused on his game, the bass of the final boss reverberating in the air. Levi doesn't hear your observation, but he definetly feels a pair of eyes ogling his head.
"W-What are y-you doing?"
His citrine eyes dart nervously between you and the screen. Instinctively, the tail reaches for his head as his hands are occupied with the controller.
On feeling nothing strange there, Levi shoots you a nervous look.
"Your horns," You declare, not tearing your gaze away from the appendages on his head. At your statement, the purple-haired demon gets up from his chair to inspect his reflection in the glass screen.
But when he doesn't find anything out of the ordinary, a frown falls on his face.
Your eyebrows furrow at the action. You know what is going on in the demon's mind; that he's simply a worthless and ugly shut-in who looks like a freak.
Words fail Leviathan when your hands come to rest on his horns. His posture stiffens, and Levi would be in a stupor right now if not for your words.
A gentle touch against his horns.
"You're not what you think you are."
A brush against his tail.
A kiss to his horns.
Levi doesn't know what he's done to deserve you. Time and time again, you come and make him see the things he's refused, imagined, twisted in his mind.
You're going to be the death of him one day, with your love.
But Levi's going to die a happy death.
Satan doesn't dislike his more..demonic features.
He simply prefers being calm and polite. With his sharp horns and tail coiled around his leg as a sign of control, Satan is a perfect member of the knowledgeable demon elite.
But he doesn't want you to get hurt because of him.
"Careful," Satan warns as he observes your movements. He had been puzzled yet intrigued at your request to inspect his demon form, and he obliged.
You nod in response, gently tracing a finger from the base to the curved tip. Satan was right, they indeed are sharp if not handled carefully, but there's nothing stopping you from showering your beloved demon in affection.
They're covered with scales, you only realize when you feel the sensation of his appendages in your hands.
"Ah, I'm so sorry!"
The blonde demon stumbles over his words at having caught his unruly tail in the action of coiling itself around your leg. That's why he keeps it close to his body, but it seems the heart never listens.
"It's alright," You mumble, gently taking the appendage in your hands as you observe the green scales. You can feel it tremble under your touch.
"You aren't hurt, right?"
"Not at all. In fact, your tail seems to particularly like me."
The blush on Satan's face is adorable, yet embarrassed.
"Can you..touch my horns again, please?"
You find him lowering his head so that you can easily access his horns, like a cat.
If anything, Asmodeus adores his demon form.
The demon flaunts his wings and horns pridefully. He has had many touch his horns and tail in amorous encounters, and Asmo has welcomed it.
But there's a certain emotion brewing in his heart when you massage his horns.
"Your horns are so smooth to the touch!" You exclaim, marvelling over each smooth appendage as you glide a finger across. The demon's horns are ending in pink at the tip, with delicate patterns .
Underneath you, Asmodeus shivers.
"Indeed they are! I make sure to polish them regularly! Smoother and more alluring than others!"
You nod in reply, stroking the area around where his horns emerge. At that action, the demon sighs before leaning into you more.
You let him, placing a hand on the nape of the neck as Asmo adjusts his position to ensure that his horns don't accidentally hurt you. He could never let that happen.
"Would you like me to decorate your horns with some jewellery?"
The demon immediately perks up, excitement thrumming in his veins at your question. Before you know it, Asmodeus has intertwined his fingers with yours, and now your lips are barely apart.
He doesn't give a reply, instead choosing to bury his face in the crevice of your neck. His wings flutter softly, silently, as you feel Asmodeus smile.
"I would love that."
Beel doesn't play much attention to his more demonic traits. Like the horns on his head or the wings on his back, the demon doesn't fawn over them like Asmodeus, or take pride in them.
He can't be bothered, when his hunger prevents him.
But if you seem to find amusement in his horns, who is he to deny?
"Your horns are so big!" You point out, tracing a finger over each ridge that clearly defines itself. The demon had been a bit confused at your request to touch his horns, but sat down nevertheless so that you could easily access his head.
Beel says nothing, but buries himself in your chest. He doesn't feel the need to voice a reply, not when it can be said in a simple action.
Your heartbeat is soothing, just like those times when he'd get nightmares and Lilith and Belphegor would let him fall asleep to the sound of their heartbeat.
Alive and Breathing.
But then he feels something being placed on his head, even lighter and delicate than your hands. A careful feel of the object tells him it's soft, and when Beel takes a deep breath, the familiar fragrance taking his mind back to the garden.
A flower crown.
Looking at the mirror behind you, the demon can briefly make out the flowers delicately woven together, now placed on his head, adoring his horns.
"Is this alright? Asmodeus showed me how to weave a flower crown one time and I thought they would look—"
Beelzebub finds himself giggling. Cute, he thinks, gazing at the flowers on his head and the confusion on your face.
Well, a kiss would clear it all away.
Belphegor snorts at the inneudo, gently wacking you on the head with his tail. Softly, meant in good fun.
You giggle, resuming your ministrations of gently touching his horns. They're twisted like a ram's, and another pun is already on your mind, but you don't voice it out loud.
"I like your horns," You declare, massaging his head harder to emphasize your point; making Belphegor sleepily hum.
"They're a pain to care for." He mumbles, your scent already pulling him to the brink of sleep. Or maybe he's just finding an excuse to sleep in your arms.
"If you want, I could file them down for you."
The sleepy demon nods his head. Belphegor would often fall asleep in the middle of grooming, and then Beel would come to help him. Or until Lucifer scolded him for his disheveled horns.
The prospect of annoying Lucifer does sound interesting.
But his mouth opens, and he finds himself already giving permission as he's pulled into bliss by your ministrations. Your hands work their magic on his scalp and horns, and if the demon isn't careful he might just doze off.
Belphegor doesn't mind that.
In your lap, with you massaging his head and horns, he feels as if this moment would be disturbed any moment. Soon one of his brothers will come rushing in and take you away from themselves. They always want more time, but Belphegor will make up for what was lost.
For now, he's in your arms.
That's the first thing one would notice about Diavolo's demon form. Even the most extravagant beings would be overshadowed by the grandeur of the Prince's demon form.
Adored with gold at the tips, each wing and horn is elegant, large, a display of sheer power and authority that the demon possesses.
And yet, you have the formidable demon Prince in your lap, whose seeking respite from the ever-lasting pile of paperwork and Barbatos's nagging.
"That feels good." He mumbles, closing his eyes to savour the sensation of having your undivided attention without any paperwork or royal duties, if only for fleeting moments.
Never had the demon thought that he'd find solace in having his horns played with it. Maybe is it because he never had experienced affection?
But then you came along.
"Your horns sure are big, Dia," You tease, tracing a finger across the length, down to the very ends in gold.
"You're quite bold," He murmurs, inhaling your scent as it calms his nerves. And then, he abruptly sits up straight, letting the mattress dip under his weight until your eyes are at level with his. A finger is placed under your chin, and your lips are barely apart.
"But that's what I like about you."
The space between two lovers ceases to be.
The butler never acts improper.
His position calls for it, to be ready to serve and help his Lord in his time of need, to be dedicated and composed as ever.
Barbatos remains a mystery to many, but to you, he'll break down his walls.
"Your horns are deceiving. Frail at first glance, but they're strong and firm." You observe, placing a finger across the thin branches of his horns.
"Just like you."
The demon smiles, feeling something warm brew in his chest. "I don't share my secrets with anyone," He whispers, leaning forward to place a flower in your hair and give you a chaste kiss. Leaning back against the tree trunk, Barbatos admires his work.
"But you have my heart."
Gently feeling the petal, you flash the demon a grin. "I sure do, Barb. But it looks like someone else has found an affinity for your horns."
His eyes immediately dart towards the chirp of a bird, which seems to be coming from his head. A Devildom sparrow now proudly perches on his horns, merrily enjoying the view.
Barbatos and you share a chuckle together.
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"Would you mourn for me when I'm gone?"
You could tell Lucifer stopped writing, because the noise of his pen scribbling against the paper stopped.
You looked up to see him glaring at you, bewildered.
"What did you just say, MC?"
"I meant if you'd mourn me when I die. Its perfectly fine if you can't! Demons are probably not as sensitive to death of humans and-
Lucifer was out of his seat. And before you knew it, the Avatar of Pride knelt in front you, his hands clasping yours.
The mere thought of your absence stabbed at his heart. Without you, his study and this whole house would fall silent. The sounds of your laughter are what made the chaos bearable. Without it, even his favourite records would sound like white noise.
His eyes were angry and pained. But they softened as you cupped his face with worry in your eyes.
"MC, you brought back a happiness I hadn't felt in a hundred millenia. Losing you would be like losing all the joy in the world. So don't ever speak of it again. I shall never let it happen."
Mammon went deathly still. Gone was his usual erratic self as stared at you like he was frozen in time.
He wasn't even blinking. Maybe in fear that his tears would come spilling out.
"I just...well you know when I die for real, would you cry for me? I know it's so dark to ask this and---ah!"
Mammon had you tackled under him, arms holding you tight as if you'd spill over if he let go. He's never been greedier for you.
If you're no longer there, he has no one to hide behind when Lucifer comes attacking. He has noone to untie him from the ceiling. Noone to hold him on his worst days when everything feels like shit. You're the relief he feels after decades of pain.
"Mammon, are you crying?!!"
His eyes leaked and dampened your shoulders, his muffled cries rocking both of your bodies together. You regret ever asking as you attempt to coo and rub his hair.
"I'm supposed to be yer protector! Losing ya is the worst thing that can happen to me! I won't let that happen, ya hear me human?!"
Levi's character just stopped mid fight. He didn't even press pause on his game. The enemy kept attacking but his fingers remained still.
He wasn't even looking at you. He was staring at the part of the screen that said "Player 2: MC". And his hands started shaking.
"...Levi, are you okay... Did I say something wrong I'm sorry-"
Levi's tail darted out and wrapped around you in an instant, pulling you towards him. In that instant he forgot all shame.
Why? Why would you bring that up? How can he be okay? Without you, he has no player 2. He has no one to listen to him ramble and still care about him. And there's noone left for him to call his friend.
His cries were loud and endless, echoing through his room. You tried to cradle him and try to calm him down but he won't let you go.
"What will the Lord of Shadows do without his Henry?! You can't leave me alone like this! You won't right?? Right?! Losing you would a critical damage noone can heal."
The book slips from his hands onto your lap and his hands limp on your waist.
You turn back to meet his eyes. Ocean green eyes now covered in dew.
"I suppose it will be much quieter? I won't be here to annoy you and maybe your brothers will calm down too right-"
He promptly palmed your mouth shut. Do you not think twice before saying such horrid things? It's not that he's never thought of it. But he hates it. And talking about it just makes it seem like you'll be gone someday soon.
Silence begotted by death isn't pleasant. The calm after a storm only thrusts in your face, the destruction the storm left behind. In his wrathful heart, you brought hope and love. And now you speak of taking it all away and leaving him in the dark again?
His tears are silent and sobs are heavy as he holds you so close to himself, trying to engulf you within himself. Afraid you might spill over and disappear if he dare let go.
"No I will not mourn you. I would never have to. I WILL keep you next to me forever. Losing you would mean losing every last ray of light you brought into my life."
Asmo stared at your reflection in the mirror horrified. As if he was staring at your ghost.
He was brushing your hair, and now his hands were frozen, the brush dropping to the floor with a loud thud.
"Ah don't worry I'll still come back to haunt you a ghost or something? That's possible right? I have no idea what happens after I die-"
"No shut up!" Asmo fell on his knees, hugging your waist from behind like a hurt child. "Stop saying that MC!"
Noone gave the Avatar of Lust, more love than you did. As much as he loved his beauty, he knew you loved him despite the hideousness that lay underneath his skin. And noone was more accepting of his affection than you.
"Asmo...Asmo! You'll hurt your knees!"
His voice cracked as he broke down, holding you for support and saying no over and over again, denying even the idea of you ever going away with no way to return.
"Whatever will I do without you around? It's hard for me when you go back to the human world and now you're talking of never returning? I ABSOLUTELY WONT HAVE IT! Losing you will take away the only one who saw me for me."
Beel didn't even let the thought register at first. He kept on munching on a bag of chips, all smiley and content. "Gone where MC? You're going to the Celestial realm again?"
"Maybe not Celestial realm. I haven't done enough good to be sent there. I wonder who will decide my fate after I die for good? But would you mourn me?" You ask..
His smile drops immediately. No. No no no. What do you mean 'after you die for good'? Is something wrong? Why are talking about this now? Are you not feeling well? Did you eat something bad? Was it Solomon-
"Beel? What's wrong?"
His eyes teared up instantly as he reached for you and hoisted you up in his arms to hold you close. No it's okay, he told himself. You're right there in his arms. You're safe. He'll keep you safe.
He remembered everything you ever did for him. Protecting him from Lucifer, freeing his twin brother, never getting mad at his constant hunger and even giving your life essence away just to save him. No you cannot leave yet, there's too he's grateful for.
"Noone will have to mourn. I will keep you safe here MC. I will give you the best of foods that will keep you healthy and strong forever. I cannot lose my family again, MC."
He was asleep on your lap but now his eyes shot wide open and his breath hitched.
He tilted his head to look at you, staring out of the window, your face aglow with the Devildom moonlight.
"No shut up. Shut up about that." He could barely speak.
"You know the first time I died, all I saw was this white void with echoes of a voice I've never heard before. I wonder if I'll end up there again-"
Belphie instantly put his closed palm gently over your mouth to stop you from talking. He felt you breathing warmly on his fingers. It made him feel safe. You were okay, you were alive.
He promptly pushed you down and started spooning you from behind. The rise and fall of your back against his chest gave him reassurance too. He let his stray tears fall onto his pillow.
He had nightmares about this. So many nightmares where you just decided never to forgive him and disappear forever somewhere he could never touch you again. He imagined your absence and it was overwhelmingly lonely.
"I won't make the same grave mistake twice. I won't let you get hurt again. I won't let you go again, MC. Losing is you is one less reason to wake up in the morning."
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levi, satan, asmo and belphie + pact marks
a/n: so me and my good buddy @sierrascribbles were talking about this and ofc we had to split it up and write it lmao!! she has the other boys here!
Levi is torn: on one hand, he’s much too embarrassed to even think about where his mark is going to go, because that requires thinking about your body, and it’s not like he cares about the body of some normie. But on the other hand, he wonders where exactly it should go-- was your hand too flashy? Could he even consider putting it on your torso?
He stews over it for so long the mark ends up appearing on its own. It’s in the middle of your lower back, in the dip of your spine. It’s discrete and shy, just like Levi.
If he had the courage, Levi would love to run his hands over the mark-- it’s proof that you’re his, after all. He even daydreams about kissing it, but that just turns him into a blushing mess. When you ask him why he’s so red, Levi stutters that it’s none of your business.
The mark is easily hidden, and Levi will never admit that it makes him happy when you wear clothes that reveal the mark on your back. In his bravest moments, he’ll try (and fail) to casually place a hand over that general area on your back whenever you’re hanging out.
Satan knows exactly where he wants his mark to go-- of course, he asks you for permission first. With a kiss to your hand, he inquires if you were okay with having a mark on your thigh. Mammon immediately bursts into a furious no way!, but seeing no reason to refuse, you acquiesce.
Once again, Satan is a gentleman-- the mark is on low on your inner thigh, and if you indicate that you’re uncomfortable with his touch, he won’t so much as look at it. But if you’re okay with it, then in particularly teasing moments, Satan will purposely drag his fingers across the mark to make you blush.
Another habit Satan has formed is leaning his head in your lap whenever he’s reading. It’s the perfect pillow, and if he turns his head just right, he can kiss the mark on your thigh. Not that he would, of course. Not unless you want him to.
He won’t admit it, but he finds it particularly vindicating when any of the other brothers look upon his mark on you with envy. He’s not as possessive as some of the others, but that doesn’t mean he’s not possessive at all.
Asmo knows where he wants his mark to go, the moment you form a pact-- there’s only one place it belongs, after all, and that’s on your-- the other brothers immediately smack his head for suggesting it. Asmo pouts, but settles for a place below your left collar bone, close to your heart.
He cannot speak in anything but innuendos, and it gets especially worse when it comes to your mark. With a flirtatious wink, Asmo will suggest you wear low cut clothes that boast your mark.
But if you wear a shirt that covers it up then Asmo, with a cute frown, asks if you’d be okay with letting him get a peek at your mark. Just to see if it’s there, of course; there’s no other reason he wants you to take off your shirt-- Beel has to restrain Mammon from making any rash decisions with his butter knife.
He’s all talk and no bite at the end of the day. As much as he teases, it makes him genuinely happy whenever he sees the mark on you; he adores you to pieces, and it reminds him that you adore him, too. If you let him, he’d be giving kisses daily to that spot on your chest.
It takes Belphie a little while to decide where he wants his mark to go. You would think it would be too much of a bother for him, but when it came to you, he can work up the energy to do anything. Well, most anything. After a few days, a mark will bloom on the back of your hand.
Belphie loves to hold your hand, especially the one where the mark has formed. The only reason it’s in such a prominent place, he says, is to scare off other demons from touching you. It’d be a bother if he had to rescue you every time you got in trouble, after all.
And that is true, to an extent. The truths he won’t say are this: Belphie wants everyone in the devildom to know you’re his. It gratifies him to see how jealous some of his other brothers get to see his mark in such an obvious location. And you can’t hide this mark easily.
When he naps (and drags you to nap with him), Belphie ends up holding the hand that his mark is on. It’s comforting, and you’ll find it hard to shake off his grip. He’s a clingy sleeper, and you never know whenever he’s going to cuddle you, or if you’re cuddling him.
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