#mod chaos in the devildom

[inhuman-obey-me]

Belated collab piece for Solomon's Birthday 2023!

Art by Mod Cosmos

Writing by Mod Chaos

His Immortal Soul

Can also be read on AO3 here Word Count: 3.8k Description: "Madness, where is its soul? Madness, all alone." A series of reflections on Solomon, shining souls, and what it means to be human.

Iarabal

With an impressive 72 pacts at his command, the Witty Sorcerer Solomon is said to have a most delectable and enticing soul. Demons clamor for the chance at a piece of it; there are rumors that even Death herself longs to claim it. It shines with the wisdom he was once gifted, and it is finely aged with the polish of immortality. The soul of a man who controls so many demons without succumbing to their allurement is a delicacy indeed.

Humans with the power to resist demons have nicely polished souls, like jewels. The more noble a soul, the shinier, and the more demons both long to claim it and are repelled by it.

At least, that's how it should be. That’s how it usually works. It’s what Iarabal had expected, when he'd heard that the infamous sorcerer himself would be coming to RAD as an exchange student under the Demon Prince's bizarre plan. Of course, no one had dared actually touch him once he arrived -- his pacts are with some of the most powerful demons in the realm, and the idea of treason aside, none would want to additionally face the wrath of those such as Asmodeus or Barbatos. And that’s all before even getting to the sorcerer himself, a man so powerful and conniving that he’d managed to gain the power of those many demons while offering away little to nothing of himself in exchange.

So Solomon’s soul, by all rights, is quite beyond reach to any average demon such as himself.

But Iarabal had planned to look upon it, at least, and savor the fantasy of devouring it. Flames lick at the insides of his belly in anticipation, and he salivates at the thought, even if he knows he will never get a taste. A demon can dream, can’t he?

Yet, as he lays eyes upon the sorcerer, something feels not quite right. It sparkles, yes -- even more dazzlingly than the demon had imagined, it sparkles. But there is something wild and incomprehensible about it, like funhouse mirrors warping the refractions of a million diamonds. The longer he looks, the more it seems to expand and stretch, and he is trapped in it, as though a cavern of crystal is closing itself around him. His appetite is fading rapidly, and a growing sense of something almost like dread builds in his stomach in its place.

Is Solomon so noble, to be able to repel him this way? Is this the strength of how powerfully his soul shines?

The demon isn’t sure. This doesn’t feel the same as any other time a human’s soul has repelled him. He feels like he’s losing his mind entirely, and the longer he stares, the worse it seems to get. Then again, he’s never looked upon a human so powerful as this, so who can say?

Iarabal averts his gaze. He doesn’t want to look upon it anymore.

The sorcerer’s soul is, he thinks to himself, better left alone.

Lucifer

There is something very, very strange about that sorcerer, Lucifer thinks.

Solomon has, as always, asked him for a pact again today. “Come on, this is basically just how we greet each other, isn’t it?” the human explains away blithely when the demon rejects him, with a smile that doesn’t match the seriousness of what he asks.

Of course, it’s not the pact-seeking that makes Solomon so strange, even if he is singularly annoying in his persistence about it. Plenty of humans have sought similar with the infamous fallen angel. He’s not even the only among them to try to use trickery or magic to force the demon’s hand.

No, Solomon is strange because, of all those humans, he is the most alarmingly devious, wicked human ever to have such a beautiful soul.

“Someone pure, genuine, and worthy of respect. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but demons are most attracted to the souls of people like that,” Lucifer had once told you.

The sorcerer as he knows him is none of those things. Lucifer is very familiar with the immortal’s reputation and history, and none of it could be described as pure. Rather than genuine, the man is unforthcoming at best and outright deceptive at worst. Any respect he has earned usually comes mostly from raw power, and most of that comes from the sheer number of pacts he’s accumulated, along with the Ring of Wisdom that Michael gifted him so very long ago. And then there’s the matter of his many past transgressions against demonkind...

Yet, despite this, Solomon’s soul sparkles brilliantly every time Lucifer sees him. It’s shocking how radiant it is, in fact. He’s hardly ever seen anything like it. The way it shines speaks to a level of purity and nobility of spirit beyond almost any other. And he smiles that carefree, nonchalant smile, an expression that would almost seem like he’s exactly what his soul says he is, even as he tries to solicit a pact from the demon, day after day, year after year.

But Lucifer knows better. Solomon is not pure or genuine. He is not as innocent as he plays at being. He is a dangerous person, and he is not to be trifled with.

The dissonance is unsettling, and for that, Lucifer does not trust him.

Granted, if a demon were to choose any human to make a pact with, Solomon would certainly be at the top of most any demon’s list. It’s true that a pact with that most powerful human sorcerer ever to live can lend one a certain degree of status in the Devildom. He has a reputation for only bothering with demons whose power he deems interesting enough to be worthwhile. And those who do forge such agreements with him revel in the amount of raw magic that he channels through them, when they are called upon.

Any other demon might have given in and made that pact a long time ago already. Rather, many already had – Lucifer’s own younger brother among them, to his chagrin.

But the Avatar of Pride is decidedly not looking for a human with whom to form a pact. He has had little interest in forging a pact with any human, ever. He’s made one exception recently, for you, and it’s his only one since becoming a demon. He doesn’t intend to make another. And certainly not with that particular human.

So, time after time, Solomon asks him again. And, time after time, Lucifer remains ever firm in his refusal.

Thirteen

It’s a real shame, Thirteen thinks.

The sight of his soul, the first time, is still clear in her memories. The way it sparkled when the moonlight hit him -- she doesn’t think she’ll ever forget it. It was bright, and brilliant, like the rainbows refracted off of the most incredible diamond, but also so much more than even that. No image could ever capture it; no words would ever be enough to describe it. Candy had thought she was delusional when she’d tried to tell her about it afterwards. But it was no delusion. His soul really was just that incredible.

It was like nothing she’d ever seen before, and nothing she’d seen since – at least, not until very recently.

And, to Thirteen’s disappointment, it doesn’t sparkle that way anymore.

That isn’t to say she doesn’t want it anymore, of course. It’s still one of the most captivatingly stunning souls she’s ever come across, and she’s not going to give up on having it. She’s been this patient thus far; she’ll keep trying, however long it might take.

Still...it really is a shame.

She misses the way Solomon used to be. These days, he’s so serious, even as he hides it behind a demeanor so cheerful it borders on idiocy.

Back then, he was different. He’d been more innocent by far, for one thing. She remembers the sight of that child hidden away in the basement, staring up at her through the lattice of that half-underground window. His life hadn’t been exactly easy up to that point, but his world back then had been so much smaller. He hadn’t been caught up in all these otherworldly conflicts, concerned with balances of power and the fate of humanity caught between them. No, back at that time, his magic still felt like a miracle to him, and even if it hadn’t been nearly so impressive back then, he’d had a simple sense of wonder and pride at each little feat he managed to perform.

His soul had been so perfectly pure back then, unclouded, unshaded. There had been such honest terror in the shriek he’d let out, and it had been so cute from that little kid that she couldn’t help but tease him a little, even as she’d tried to reassure him that she wasn’t his enemy.

She’d meant it then, and she means it still. Even as she tries time after time to capture his soul, and for all the many ways he’s annoyed her century after century, she holds no actual ill will towards the sorcerer. In a way, frustrating as it is to have her traps constantly fail against him, it’s a fun game of sorts for her too. He’s more than worthy as a target. She’s been waiting for the day his name shows up in the reaper’s list, but at this point, would taking his soul without a challenge even be satisfying?

So he entertains her tricks, and she plays at capturing him, and in the times in between, he calls her a friend -- one of his only friends, perhaps. He trusts her, with a strength of heart that only someone with such a brilliantly polished soul could.

She is not his enemy.

Someday, though. Someday, she’ll claim that sparkling soul of his. Even if it takes until the end of eternity, she’ll never give up on it.

For that man’s soul, it’s worth it. That’s just how valuable it is.

Barbatos

It was a delicious expression on Solomon’s face, that first day the two of them met -- shock, fear, desperation, shame. A delectable mix of all humanity’s basest, heaviest emotions.

To his great disappointment, Barbatos has never seen it again.

The reaper, among their cohorts, blames him for how the sorcerer’s soul changed, so many lifetimes ago; he is well aware of that. And he does not deny it -- it's true that Solomon is no longer the same as he once was. That may well be because of his influence.

Perhaps he did spoil him, back then, this fascinating human that he’d decided to take in and save from the encroaching grip of mortality. It had come about by a simple curiosity, mixed with a knowledge that few others had the privilege of being able to see. This human, a mere mortal on the verge of death, had been powerful enough to summon a demon as fabled as him without yet having a pact or bond in any way, and Barbatos could already foretell that this reckless earthly soul would someday have a pact with him who freely manipulated time at will. He knew this sorcerer would have quite the sway on the fate of the three worlds someday, and he was terribly interested in knowing how such a frail being would accomplish such a thing.

So Barbatos had taken Solomon to the Fountain of Knowledge, assigned him its guardianship, cared for him until he’d regained his health, and then made the pact he knew they were meant to have. He did show Solomon a wide expanse of alternate worlds and times, of futures and histories that the human could not have even dreamed. All of it was still nothing compared to what Barbatos himself has seen of the infinite. But it was far, far more than any human should have any right to know.

If that’s why Solomon is the way he is now, so be it.

But Barbatos isn’t so certain that’s exactly the case.

He knows who Solomon is, more deeply than probably anyone else the sorcerer has ever known. Few things can be kept secret from a demon who can see across all of time and space. He has seen Solomon at his best, at his worst, and most times in between. He has held both deep affection for and deep grudges against the man.

At the end of all of it, Solomon is who he is. He is exactly who he has always been meant to be. Barbatos has never tried to turn him into anything else.

One of the reasons Solomon’s soul shines so brightly, in his opinion, is probably that insatiable curiosity that he has. The sorcerer does not settle for things as they are; he wants to see things as they could be -- good or bad.

Solomon was the one to ask Barbatos to show him those deepest of horrors, dredged out of the abyss of possibility. “I’ve read through the books in the Fountain of Knowledge,” he’d announced, “almost every one of them. But knowing those things from books isn’t the same as knowing them. I need to see it, experience it, for myself, so I can be prepared for anything. Will you do that for me, Barbatos?”

Barbatos had simply obliged. He is, after all, the one who had brought Solomon to that place, so very long ago. It had been no surprise that the sorcerer had gone on to research what was available there, especially considering how long it took to restore him to health. He wasn’t going to deny the human’s request after already giving him that much.

And as the man himself had said, he would need to be prepared. He did need it, if he was going to fulfill the futures Barbatos had foreseen for him -- futures where Solomon would work towards pursuing the goals he has been so dogged about for an eternity now.

But that is simply who Solomon is. He wouldn’t have been satisfied with Barbatos keeping him sheltered and uninvolved, powerless in that perpetual battle between the other realms. He knew what he was asking for, and he wanted it anyway. He’s never regretted that request to Barbatos, and the demon doesn’t regret granting it.

So maybe Thirteen is right. Maybe it is Barbatos’s fault that Solomon’s soul is the way it is now. Maybe he did show the man too much, maddened his soul, corrupted him somehow. He is a demon, after all.

But Solomon doesn’t seem to mind, so neither does he.

Solomon

The sorcerer, like any human, has never been able to see his own soul.

He has, however, heard plenty said about it, by the many unearthly beings he calls company. Fascinated lesser demons have noted to him over the centuries that it is quite impressive, greed dripping from their tongues in hopes of taking it for their own.

Asmodeus, on the other hand, has never been particularly interested, occasionally quipping that if souls are like gems, he’s “not interested in lab-grown,” before ribbing the sorcerer over whether it’s even actually a human soul anymore.

Thirteen has lamented many a time how his soul doesn’t sparkle the same way it used to, a remark he usually just shrugs off. After all, what can he say in response? He has no control over the exact way that it sparkles, nor any particular interest in doing so specially for his reaper friend’s appeal anyway.

Barbatos, for his part, is quite neutral about it. “Your soul is hardly the most interesting thing about you,” the butler tells him.

Solomon is inclined to agree. Even if he can’t see souls in the same way they can, what does it matter? He knows who he is. He knows who he has been, where he came from, and what he has become. It is inescapable, in fact, even as his reflection in the mirror shows none of that change.

A reflection that, unchangingly, shows him what he has always been -- human.

They say he doesn’t really count as a human, that he can hardly even be considered human anymore at this point. And it hurts a little, he has to admit. He is still just as human as he has ever been, in his opinion, and it is only the others’ own condescending pity of humans that makes them think otherwise. They think he is not human because he has power, and no human could be so powerful. Despite his best efforts to show the potential of humans, they simply discount his own humanity instead.

His soul is proof. It’s not right. For being such a shining soul, the nobility of his heart is warped. It’s tainted by some strange shade, maddened by some unnatural force.

But he would say that unnatural force comes from the very ones who deny him his humanity. For thousands upon thousands of years, has his mission not been noble? Defending humanity’s right to be an equal, independent existence against the heavenly and demonic realms which seek to exert their influence is certainly a noble goal which has given him quite the strength of soul to resist them. Is it his fault that it required him to become so cunning and guarded to achieve that goal?

Any human who could see and experience what he has would be the same, he thinks -- if only any other human could indeed. It is, perhaps, the very loneliness of it that twists him further. He wouldn’t wish those struggles upon anyone, not truly, but he has long felt the weight of carrying this burden alone.

Then, you came along.

Falling in love with you is a little like seeing his younger self for the first time.

You are you, of course. You are not him, not a past version of him, not a thing simply to project onto. He knows that, and he would never try to make you someone you are not. But you are familiar in ways that feel almost nostalgic.

You still have an innocence, like he used to have. Not that you’re naive -- you know well enough how to handle those brothers by now, and you have certainly gained that ability to resist demons as Lucifer once instructed you to. But unlike most, you had a unique chance to earn the respect of those around you; the brothers have a true affection and camaraderie with you that most humans never have the chance to get. The Celestial Realm, too, first came to know of your existence as powerful before they really knew you.

They recognize you as an equal. And that gives you a chance to seek the same mission he has had all this time, from a more even starting point -- at least, if you want to. Or to seek anything else you’d like.

You have that kind of spirit, that he believes in whatever path you choose. Even without the power to see souls as they sparkle, he can see there is something special in you. Something he wants to protect, something he wants to nurture and see grow.

Something that he needs to protect, if the forces who twisted him are now threatening to involve you too.

You

Of course Solomon is a little weird, you think. He’s a human who has existed in this world of demons, magic, angels, sorcerers, witches, and everything else, for longer than any human rightfully should have existed at all.

But at this point, aren’t you a little weird, too?

You laugh it off the first few times they say it -- that it’s debatable whether he even counts as human anymore. It’s true, you think. An immortal, powerful sorcerer who has seen everything you’ve ever learned about history and more, with a reputation of being more demonic than most demons themselves? Yeah, you’ve never met any human quite like him.

The longer it goes on, though, the more that opinion changes.

With the brothers affectionately surrounding you, chattering away amongst themselves, they make that remark again, and a small part of you starts to wonder what exactly they mean by it.

What’s so inhuman about him?

He may be deviously clever, but is it really so strange to think that humans might have their schemes sometimes? It’s rampant throughout the human world.

His age is beyond comprehension, but it turns out that plenty of human witches bargain with demons to extend their lives. You’ve started considering it too, if you’re being honest.

He is powerful, the most powerful human ever to live -- except, so are you now.

You start thinking, more and more, that the two of you aren’t actually quite so unalike.

If they think he’s not human anymore, how long until they think the same of you?

So you mention it to him one day, just as a passing comment, during your training together. You didn’t mean much by it, but he frowns, and he ends training for the day, and he takes you to a café, just so you can chat about it a little more. And you didn’t mean to complain, but you end up talking about it and all your other worries and stresses over this whole exchange student turned sorcerer deal for what turns into hours.

He's vague, and evasive about any follow-up questions, but he tells you a little about some of his worries too.

You realize you didn’t really know him all that well before. You start to get to know him better.

When you start talking to him after that, really talking and having real conversations, it’s refreshing in a way. You tell him mundane little stories about your life before all of this -- about your parents, your friends, old anecdotes of how you grew up. You tell him about the things you used to do and your worries about how you’ve become so disconnected from all of that now. And he understands. He listens with a knowing sort of care that none of the others quite have. They do listen to you, of course, but everyday human life is as abstract to them as this world used to be to you. Human life, compared to their own realms, seems so small and inconsequential.

Not to Solomon, though.

As you talk to him, you realize, without a shadow of a doubt, that he remembers. The human world has changed over time, and so has he, but he still remembers what it was like. He still sees things as a human does, no matter how long he’s been surrounded by all this. He asks you all about the human world nowadays, like a house he used to live in, where new owners have come in, and the walls have been repainted, and none of the furniture is arranged how it was before.

Even so, it still feels like home to him. And talking about it feels like home to you.

You don’t really know what they all mean, when the others talk about souls being sparkly or polishing yourself so yours becomes shiny.

Apparently, you sparkle. Apparently, so does he.

But does it matter? Does it matter how all these otherworldly beings judge the worth of a human soul?

What you know is this:

You are human. And so is he.

#yes it's late but at least less than two weeks? #obey me #obey me! #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #happy birthday solomon #writings #obey me fic #mod cosmos doodles #mod chaos in the devildom #obey me lucifer

[faolanmoon]

Random Short Solomon headcannons

Stfu I know I’m literally posting this the day after his birthday ( which is also my mother’s birthday) but I had more important shit yesterday like my mother’s birthday being the next day.SOME OF THESE ARE CRACK.

He’s probably forgotten to die at least more than once. I just find this to be funny as hell honestly .You can’t convince me that if he physically aged he’d look so old he’d like he forgot he’s passed his life’s expiration date even though he doesn’t have one. Dude just gets in a situation that’s supposed to be fatal is just like “wait I’m supposed to die?”

Is probably the only MF who has tried challenging Leviathan to the Devildom’s equivalent to Smash Bros. before MC that has come close to beating him.Levi almost lost ONCE due to RNG and Solomon spamming, and he refused to play another game with him for a long time because of the spamming.

100% has a stick enchanted with knockback II in Minecraft called the “Yeet Stick” he uses primarily for trolling. Especially on Asmo who doesn’t wear armor, like ever. Levi has kicked him out of the game several times over the Yeet Stick. Only MC is safe from the Yeet Stick because they have “Hide-the-body-anatior ”( basically a netherite sword with all the best enchantments possible) and can one shot his ass without proper armor.(Levi is the same, he just doesn’t have a funny name for his netherite sword like MC does)

He’s the reason why the ice cream machine at McDonald’s is always broke, don’t @ me. He’s so bad at cooking he couldn’t even work at fast food.

Shouldn’t know what Gen Z slang is because of his age, but somehow does. It’s scary because of how he’s able to blend into modern human culture, not as scary as Diavolo trying to be trendy and just being cringe, but it’s still “how do you do fellow kids?”.

Is not allowed within 100ft of Lucifer sometimes because he gets so pissed of at Solomon trying to make a pact with him. Solomon, it’s literally like my dad bringing home the milk, it’s never happening.

Speaking of dads I feel like he’d probably have the worst dad jokes, I would list an example ,but not even I would get it.

Would be the type of mf to shitpost on the main account. Idk how ppl on Instagram shitpost , I grew up on the SparkleCat and Sparkledog days of DeviantArt, you think I use Instagram? I just know it’s what Devilgram is based off of.

Speaking of one of the social media platforms I know more about, whatever the Devildom’s equivalent of Tumblr is, he Levi and MC 100% have one. Solomon only has an account for chaos and some of the shitpost this beautiful Superhell( complementary) has meanwhile Levi is here for fandom stuff and is 100% a Tumbler Vet, Mc has an account for both reasons.

Solomon is also the only person besides Levi and MC who would know wtf Discord is and would have one. Remember the time before Rhythm bots 1 and 2 shut down in 2021? Yeah he’d 100% be trolling in VCs with those bots. (Also before someone in 2023 tries to be a smart ass check the date before you “Well actually the Rhythm bots are back as if 2023 🤓” because it’s not 2023 as I write and publish now is it?) The very last thing he ever had a Rhythm bot play was The Sound of Silence ( or more commonly “Hello Darkness My old Friend) on that famous day in September 2021 when the bots shut down. After the bots shut down he’d instead troll with Discord voice mods. Besides trolling, Solomon would be a massive shitposter when a hard drive of memes that are no where near as many as Levi has.

When no one else is around ( especially Luke) Barbatos goes full Gordon Ramsay on him.

Beel can be heard weeping whenever he smells Solomon’s cooking.

Him and Mc are the only humans who don’t fear God nor death. Not even 13 can make them fear death.

Mammon, Luke , Simeon, Raphael and 13 get trolled the most by him.

Do not let him or anyone in general discover MC’s fan base, fanfics about MC, or any ships involving MC. He’d be the one most chaotic fans MC has the moment he does. Would be the type to make shitposts out of MC ships and use it to fuck with Mammon and Levi who totally wouldn’t already have started shipping wars.

And on fucking with Mammon he’s 100% been robbed by him and would use magic to fuck with Mammon since he’s why we can’t have shit in the Devildom or Detroit.

Solomon and MC are both Asmo’s feral gremlins that should be feared, Solomon is just less bloodthirsty than MC.

None of the Henrys trust him, not even 2.0. Henry 1.0 would kill him without hesitation while Henry 2.0 flares his gills up when he sees him.

#shitpost #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me solomon #om! solomon #omswd headcanons #obey me crack #crack headcanons #omswd solomon #obey me lucifer #om lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #omswd simeon #obey me thirteen #raphael obey me #i ran out of ideas #happy late birthday #obey me henry #henry 1.0 #henry 2.0 #guess who finally isn’t behind in work? #yeah me #that’s who

[devildom-edits]

"It's my turn now, right?"

You may address me as Lucifer or Mod Lucifer. I am the head mod and my pronouns are he/they/wrath/cat/chaos.

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"Let's leave it at that for now."

#lucifer.announces #lucifer.speaks #obey me icons #obey me #obey me edits

[inhuman-obey-me]

Congrats on 🎉4000🎉 followers, you honestly deserve it. I love reading all your work. Can I request 👻 + Belphegor, with MC involved?

Two requests for Belphie with this prompt, wow! Thank you both for your compliments and the request!!

"I'm the creature that haunts your mind." - Belphegor/MC

cw: references to Lesson 16

You weren't always scared of the dark.

The thought has been weighing heavily on Belphegor's mind recently. It comes to him again as he watches you startle backwards at the innocent sight of a door unexpectedly ajar.

You were bold, for a human. You got used to the Devildom's most unsettling quirks with surprising speed. You got mad at him the first time he lied to you, which he'd shrugged off. But you had never, ever been scared of him.

You should have been.

It's your own fault, he tries to tell himself. I warned you. I told you that it was your fault for believing me in the first place.

That's what he tries to tell himself, but he can't.

He catches you as you trip backwards -- "Shouldn't you know to watch your step around here by now?" he teases, trying to raise your spirits. You laugh back with embarrassment, masking the momentary freeze as clumsiness.

It's enough to fool his brothers. But Belphie always was the more perceptive one.

You weren't always scared of the dark -- but you are now, and it's his fault, and he knows it.

Night falls, and he can't sleep, and that's a real problem for the Avatar of Sloth. You aren't sleeping either, he's pretty sure -- he'd know if you were. But it's been weeks now, and each night, he doesn't feel you relax into sleep so much as he senses you succumbing to exhaustion. So when he comes knocking on your door, he's fairly confident you'll answer.

"Oh, hi Belphie," you say with forced cheerfulness as you open up. "Is something the matter? It's late, it's not like you to be up still."

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd come see if you were still awake. Although, I guess you should have been sleeping too, shouldn't you?" He gives you an equally forced smile, though he makes his look quite a bit more natural. Well, he's a practiced liar, after all, isn't he? You should know that well enough now.

"Oh, I-I um, I guess so. Yeah, I probably should be, huh? But I just felt like staying up tonight. You know, like...I was reading a scary story before bed, and now I'm too scared to go to sleep. That's what I get, I guess!" you laugh, sweeping away the truth behind evasive sheepishness again.

No, it's my fault. I'm the creature that haunts your mind, his mind screams at him. But he can't say that out loud to you, not when you're trying to keep up such a brave face. What can he say, though? What can he possibly say to make it better? As much as he wishes he could, he can't take it back. He can't fix this. There's only one thing he can say, and it won't fix anything for you.

Still, he should say it anyway, right?

"I'm sorry."

He squeezes you in a hug, not too tight but firm enough to reassure him that you're there -- that you're warm and solid, and that the biggest mistake of his life really hadn't cost you yours. He had grown to like you during those months he'd been shut up in the attic, honestly he really had! But he'd been so blinded by rage and grief that he killed you!

But he doesn't say any of this, so you just blink at him in confusion from within his embrace, softly patting his back in a daze. "Um...you don't need to be sorry that I read something scary, you know...?"

"Not for that. I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'm sorry that you're scared now. I'm sorry that sorry doesn't make it go away. I'm sorry that I'm the reason you can't sleep anymore. I'm just so, so sorry."

You laugh softly against his ear, partly out of surprise but sweet as syrup all the same, and you squeeze him gently back and give him a light peck on the cheek. "I know. That's the reason you can't sleep either, right? It's okay, we can fall asleep together. I think I'll be able to if you're next to me. I love you. I forgive you."

#obey me #obey me! #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #om! belphegor #om! belphie #obey me belphegor x mc #obey me belphegor x reader #obey me belphie x mc #obey me belphie x reader #obey me fic #obey me drabble #writings #drabble #4000 follower celebration #mod chaos in the devildom

[inhuman-obey-me]

CONGRATS ON 4K+ FOLLOWERS!!!🎉 You two are so awfully talented I can't even put into words, really. Here's to many more!

May I request: 🥡 (Can’t fight these cravings in the night.) with Beel + MC Included, please?

(ALSO IS THE PROMPT LYRICS TO MOTIONLESS IN WHITE'S WEREWOLF BC I LOVE THAT SONG)

Ahhh, thank you for your kind words!! ( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵) ♡ We're so grateful people like our stuff enough for us to have reached this point, especially with how many times we've fallen into inactivity. Thank you so much for your support!!!!

And, ahahahaha, you got us, it seems we've finally been called out on using lyrics in our prompts. Yes, we also love that song!! In fact, we're both big MIW fans, so for anyone else who likes them, see if you can spot what other lyrics we put on the prompt list ;)

"Can’t fight these cravings in the night." - Beel/MC

Unlike his twin, Beelzebub rarely remains asleep the whole night through.

Some nights, he twists and tosses in his bed, trying to shake off the specters haunting his dreams, then wakes suddenly, his heart racing. On others, it's simply the call of hunger that jerks him from his slumber, his grumbling stomach demanding satisfaction at any hour. Other times still, he wakes without any reason at all. Sometimes, it's all three, pulling him from sleep over and over throughout the night.

He looks up at the gentle golden glow coming off the solar design on his wall, barely illuminating the room just enough to navigate, before his gut begins its growling demands. It's no use to try to go back to sleep; he can't fight these cravings in the night for long.

With a shake of his head, he slides out of bed and quietly makes his way towards the door, glad that Belphie sleeps heavily enough never to be disturbed by his movements. In the short trek from his room to the kitchen, he can feel his stomach growing emptier and emptier, until his vision starts to blur, and he's holding himself back from gnawing off the door itself.

He grabs the first thing within reach off the table and gorges upon it without hesitation. Guilt nibbles at the edge of his mind as he vaguely registers the shape of something like a drawn-on face upon his tongue -- some special treat of Levi's, probably, and he'll get chewed out for it in the morning, no doubt. But the voracious growling of his stomach drowns those thoughts out easily, and he forgets quickly as he lumbers his way dizzily forward. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it sates the hunger long enough to reach the fridge.

His sight comes back into focus as he reaches for the fridge's handle, only to realize it's already open, with the shadowed silhouette of someone sitting in front of its heady glow, peeking over the door at him with mild terror in their eyes.

"Beel, it's me," you breathe in a nervous hush.

Your voice rings distant through the fog of hunger, buzzing in his head like swarms of flies -- or maybe those are his own wings, clicking behind him in voracious frenzy. This isn't the first time you've caught him midnight snacking, but it's usually the other way around, when he's already deep into his feasting.

He reaches a hand past you without answer, without eye contact, no sign of even having heard you, fingers closing rapaciously around whatever food they can find. Your presence is calming to him, always has been, ever since the day he decided to make his pact with you, but that's not enough right now. He doesn't trust himself not to devour you whole. He needs to eat, he is starving, and you smell so delicious.

So he reaches past you, grabbing whatever he can, and he eats. He eats, and eats, and eats, until the buzzing stops, and finally, his belly isn't screaming its emptiness anymore.

You're still standing there beside him, and he realizes you've been handing him things as he ate, snacks from the cupboards to sate him and glasses of water from the sink to help him wash them down. The fear is gone from your face, replaced only with worry.

Well, he did consume half the fridge's contents within minutes, after all.

He wraps you up in a big bear hug, expressing only a blunt, "Thank you," and his embrace is tight but warm, and full of relief.

"Are you feeling better now?" you ask, giving him a light squeeze in return.

"Yeah, for now. I might wake up hungry again later. Though, I feel better having you here with me. Like my stomach is less angry, somehow. But I think I'm okay now, so I'll go back to bed. You should probably go back to bed too. Belphie always says you don't get enough rest."

You're quiet for a moment, thinking, and then answer, "Well, why don't I come sleep next to you? If you wake up again, I'll make you something properly to eat."

"Are you sure?" he asks. To be honest, the thought of eating your cooking has him salivating all over again, but he doesn't want to ask too much of you.

"Yeah. I sleep better in your room sometimes, anyway."

Nodding firmly, he takes your hand, leading you back to the twins' room, where Belphie is still sleeping peacefully, unaware. Quietly careful not to disturb the youngest brother, you climb into his bed together, snuggling up close. He can smell raspberries and vanilla caramel on your breath -- the pudding you had snacked on before he'd come in, probably. The last thing he thinks before drifting back to sleep is how sweet of a scent it is, just like you.

When he wakes again, it's morning already, and you're giving him a gentle poke on the nose.

"Good morning, Beel. Did you sleep okay?"

#obey me #obey me! #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer #omnb #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub x mc #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me beel x mc #obey me beel x reader #obey me fic #obey me drabble #writings #drabble #4000 follower celebration #mod chaos in the devildom

[inhuman-obey-me]

Hey, congrats on 4k followers,

Can you do “I feel a sickness for a home I’ve never been” with Lucifer finding MC (platonic or no) going through a depressive episode after coming back late from one of diavolos given (demonic tasks) maybe splattered in a bit of blood, gn mc pls.

If it’s something ur uncomfortable with, take out the depressive episode part.

Ty

❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for the congrats!!

We did receive your follow-up request you asked for instead, but...I was already partially into writing this one haha, sorry! However, here's a somewhat similar Mammon drabble from a previous round, which I hope you'll enjoy it instead!

Also, as a general reminder for everyone - the rules of the prompt game are only prompt, character, and MC/no-MC. This particular scenario request happened to line up pretty well with the idea I had anyway, but we've had a few others come in too, and well, we just like to have our creative freedom with the prompts that come in (⌒_⌒;) So please keep in mind that if you send in a very specific scenario, your request may be ignored.

“I feel a sickness for a home I’ve never been.” - Lucifer/MC

content warning: blood, MC depression, imagined MC death

Maybe a walk through the gardens, alone so late at night, isn't the best idea you've ever had.

You shiver, the thin fabric of your pajamas offering you little protection from the chill of the Devildom's unending night. You probably should have changed before coming out here, or at least brought a jacket, but you hadn't thought about that. Really, you hadn't thought much at all when you'd fled your room, except that you needed to get out, now, right now, or you were going to suffocate under the weight of your own thoughts.

Of course, now you're alone with your thoughts and cold.

At least it feels a little easier to breathe out here in the fresh air. The cool is soothing against your aching, tear-shot eyes. You feel the restlessness coiled in your muscles dissipating a little with each soft rustle of soil beneath your feet.

One step after another, you wind your way through the rose-dotted hedges, as if hoping that getting lost in the labyrinthine greenery will make you feel less lost in your head. The full moon glows brightly above you, lighting your way. It's larger here than in the human world, or maybe just closer. If you shut your eyes, you can picture it getting even closer still -- bigger, heavier, sinking, falling, pressing down, down, down, until the luminous weight of it could just crush you where you stand, and --

"MC? What are you doing out here so late?"

Your eyes fly open, startled, and you find yourself greeted by an equally startled-looking Lucifer, just now arriving home. Lines of dark ichor drip around his face, and when he quickly moves to wipe them from your view, it's to little success as you realize his gloves, along with all the rest of his uniform, are just as bloodied.

You want to comment on that fact, but he beats you to it, face full of worry as he rushes up to you. "Wait, you've been crying. What's wrong?"

Your lip trembles with trepidation. As much as you love him, you don't usually confess all your concerns so easily. But neither can you keep it in anymore; you've been drowning in these feelings all night, and they're about to spill out whether you want them to or not.

"I don't want to go back."

He puts an arm around you, puzzled but concerned, and you latch onto him like a lifeline. As the tears start to well up again, you bury your face against his viscera-soaked coat, and awkwardly, he wraps you into a comforting embrace, trying his best not to get the splatter onto you. After a moment, though, he quickly gives up on those efforts, deciding to just hug you tighter, blood on his chest be damned. It doesn't matter if you get the stains on you too -- right now, you just need this. You need him.

"I know the exchange program is only for a year, and then I'm supposed to go home -- right? It's coming up really, really soon. And I should be happy about that, because the human world was my home, and my whole life got left behind when I got pulled down here, and -- I think most people would miss it. Most people would want to go back, wouldn't they? But -- I don't. I don't want to go back! I was never happy in the human world!"

You cling to him harder as you talk, afraid to let go, as if the moment you do, everything around you will disappear. But the ever-assured Avatar of Pride's embrace is solid and warm around you, and he doesn't make any move to pull away. So, through haggard breath, you continue.

"I was never happy there like I've been happy here. I never fit in there. But this is the Devildom, and I'm a human, not a demon, and -- it's not like I can stay, right? In the end, I'm just a guest here, and guests are supposed to go home. But the closer it gets, the more it feels like there's nowhere for me to go. If I have to leave, I don't have a place that feels like home! I don't belong anywhere else!"

As you keep spilling the thoughts that have been plaguing you all night, he stays there, holding you patiently, listening quietly and letting your sobs hiccup against him. Gradually, little by little, your fingers stop gripping the fabric of his uniform quite so tightly. You let yourself relax into him a little more. You're not ready to let go just yet, but he doesn't ask you to. And finally, when it seems like you've calmed down, your breaths soft and steadied into his shoulder, he starts to speak.

"You know, we're here now, but back when we were angels, I used to call the Celestial Realm my home. It was the only one I'd ever known. And it is beautiful there -- how light falls on everything to give it warmth. I almost think I miss it, sometimes."

Lucifer's words are slow and careful, as if piecing together a confession that he's never let himself put into words before. He pauses, letting the admission linger in the air for a moment, then sighs.

"I don't miss it, though, not really. I wasn't happy there. There were problems, doubts that I ignored for a long time, until I couldn't ignore them anymore. What I feel is a sickness for a home I've never been. The Celestial Realm isn't actually that place that I miss. After we were cast out, what mattered was that my brothers and I belonged together. We made a new home here, as a family."

He holds you tight, pressing a gentle, reassuring kiss to the top of your head.

"And if you think you're just a guest to us, you're sorely mistaken. You're part of our family now too. I'll talk to Diavolo tomorrow. We'll figure it out. Because if that's how you feel, then this is your home too -- with us."

#nani-nani-nani #obey me #obey me! #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer #omnb #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me lucifer x reader #om! lucifer #om! lucifer x mc #om! lucifer x reader #obey me fic #obey me drabble #writings #drabble #4000 follower celebration #mod chaos in the devildom #raise your hand if you think the human world sucks and you want to stay in the devildom instead!! 🤚

[inhuman-obey-me]

Solomon + 🙊 please and thank you!

"I've never found a way to be honest." - Solomon/MC

You run your fingers over the leather-bound spines of rows upon rows of notebooks crammed too tightly into the bookshelves lining Solomon's walls. Centuries of magical experimentation are recorded therein, thousands of pages of the sorcerer's past efforts and investigations -- and the only tangible glimpses you've ever gotten into his life before.

"You know, you seem like the type of person who would keep a journal," you say, looking back inquisitively towards him. "Do you?"

"What, here, in the Devildom? Not out in the open like that where anyone could find it," he answers with a teasing grin. "Why? Would you like to read it?"

"Would you really show it to me?" You're pretty sure it's not a serious offer, but you perk up a little despite yourself. You can't help it; it's been over a year since he took you on as an apprentice, yet still he dodges your questions every time you try to learn more about him.

"For my adorable apprentice? Of course," he says, his smile never leaving his face, "if I had one to show. But I stopped writing them, oh, a couple thousand years ago probably, so I guess not!"

"Solomon!" you yell in frustration, lightly tossing a stray tome at him that he easily deflects with a flash of magic. "Just say that then! Can't you be honest with me for once in your life?"

"Honest, hm? I wonder," he laughs cheerfully, though there's an edge to it that you're not used to hearing. You can't quite pinpoint what emotion is hidden inside -- sadness, bitterness? Emptiness, maybe, or something else entirely. There's a shadow of something almost dangerous in his storm-colored eyes -- but he captures your hands in his and presses a deep kiss against your lips before you have a chance to understand what it is.

His breath is warm against your face, his fingers intertwining their way tightly through yours, and you can feel the wave of raw, unspoken emotion from him. You start to melt into him against your better judgment, begrudgingly letting your annoyance slip away under his touch.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulls away, that unreadable grin wide across his face again. "How was that? Was that honest enough?"

You could murder this man, if he weren't immortal.

"You know that's not what I meant!" You sigh, then add, "Solomon...why don't you trust me?"

He gives another soft hum in thought, brushing his lips lightly upon your forehead without meeting your gaze. "Trust is a hard thing to give away with all these angels and demons around us," he murmurs finally. "I've never found a way to be honest."

You frown, squeezing his hand in yours.

"Well, I want to trust you, Solomon. So I need you to trust me. Please."

He falls quiet, then kisses you again, softer this time, more vulnerable than the first. When he lets go, his face lingers inches from yours. For the first time, you see a hint of fear in his eyes. They stare deeply into you, as if searching for any reason to back out, any excuse to pull away. His muscles are tensed, ready to run.

But you have always been honest with him. He owes you the same.

"Okay. I will."

#anddd here's the reason for looking up solomon's room for that last post...literally just those first couple lines #obey me #obey me! #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me solomon #om! solomon #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #om! solomon x mc #om! solomon x reader #obey me fic #obey me drabble #writings #drabble #4000 follower celebration #mod chaos in the devildom

[inhuman-obey-me]

I really....really meant to do this way sooner, I’m so sorry, but I'm finally back with the next segment of characters!! Part 3 will come later, featuring the undateables, but for now, hope you enjoy this one!

Click here for Part 1 - Older Brothers

Part 2 - Younger Brothers

cw: mentions of past abuse + sexual assault, body horror, violence, torture, gore

Or, as these tags so accurately put it last time:

SATAN

When you tell Satan that you have something heavy to share, he is the perfect gentleman about it, making sure you feel safe and comforted and giving you space if/when you need it

He memorizes every word that falls from your lips, holding each one preciously in his mind as he holds you in his arms

His heart breaks as you describe what happened to you, and even though he always keeps his own wrath hidden away as much as he can, he thinks guiltily to the times where it has emerged around you

In that moment, he swears to himself he'll never allow it to happen again -- even if you know what he's like, even if you understand him and his rage, he could never forgive himself if he caused you the kind of pain you're describing now

For any anger you may have about it, however, you can express it as much as you want around him, with his own powers helping you let it out safely and absorbing some of it from you when it seems like it's too much for you

On intimacy, he's always been quite shy with you, but he takes care to be a bit more delicate now as well, a little less abrupt and a little bit more communicative about what he wants to do, stopping immediately to check in if you seem uncomfortable in any way

After a few days, though, the wrath in him is about ready to burst, and for all the rage he feels for what this disgusting human did to you...

No, no, he's not going to immediately tear the fucker to shreds, he can't let them die that quickly, no

No, this person is going to suffer for what they did to you

He starts with just a light curse, as a warmup -- invisible barriers just pop up in their path from time to time, causing them to randomly trip and fall whenever they're walking around

While casting the spell, however, he can't help but grow angrier and angrier thinking about what they did to you

He hits them with no less than twenty-two other curses before he collects himself enough to put the spellbook down, each of which would be fairly minor on their own, but which collectively add up to a very miserable existence of constant embarrassments, humiliations, frustrations, and injuries

When he looks in on the damage a week later, he's rather pleased to find them utterly broken down, covered head-to-toe in little bruises and cuts

He's far from done however, and in the dead of night, he whisks them away to an old, abandoned house said to be haunted by vengeful ghosts, much like the stories of the House of Lamentation

There, he immobilizes them with another curse and sets to work with a sharp-tipped pen, carving every last word of what you told him into your ex's flesh

His hand is steady as the pen slices into their body, but each time he reaches a part that especially infuriates him, he can't help but dig the pen a bit deeper in, taking vicious delight in the way their eyes water in those moments, and the wheeze of pain that emerges from their frozen lips

Once he's written out everything you told him across their body, he does what would be unthinkable to an actual book but what he finds perfectly fitting for this human stain upon the world, and sets up a pulley to gradually lower them into a firepit in the backyard

As they are slowly engulfed by the flames, he reads the whole tale upon their body out loud to them, making sure they hear every last word and know exactly what they did wrong before they finally perish

ASMODEUS

The Avatar of Lust, while he perfectly understands and embodies desire, is not forgiving of those who disregard consent

To him, so much of the fun comes from seeing that desire and pleasure emerge from his partner, so what the fuck is even the point if they don't want it?

But, as the beautiful and beloved Asmodeus, it's his job to keep everyone smiling and bright, and that's exactly what he's going to do for you

As you tell him about your past, he alternates between fussing over you to try to make you feel better, and quietly fuming over what your ex did

Over time, he helps you feel more in control of your own body again as well, empowering you to feel like it's really yours and yours alone, mixing fashion with feelings of safety and comfort, and always ready with the compliments to boost your self-esteem

Gradually, only if you want to, he'll help you get comfortable with intimacy again -- with his sensitivity to lust, he can always tell if something starts to feel wrong to you, and he'll stop immediately if that happens

Whether you want to take it slow, or try out some wild kink that might be therapeutic, or anything else, he's just excited for anything you want to do, and he'll make sure it's the best possible experience for you

As for your ex, he's sure they'll land themselves down in the Devildom eventually anyway, but if you want them taken care of sooner than that, he'll have a blast doing it -- it's been a while since he's had to a good chance to really use his scorpion venom!

And if not, hey, he'll have a chance to wreak his revenge when they eventually do arrive, in any case

He'll even invite you along too, if you'd like a turn at revenge by your own hands <3

Though his eyes can charm anyone, sometimes he finds it almost more fun to shrink them with magic and physically string them up like a puppet, and he's happy to hand you the reins if you want them

For his own fun, he manipulates the marionette strings to have your ex dance their way through any number of dangerous settings -- spikes, lava, fire, swamps, ghostly manors, you name it

He makes sure they hit every trap or flame on the way through, and malevolently flings them into those points in the most painful ways possible

With the strings, he also bends their body in impossibly painful ways, contorting them into bizarre and freakish poses and laughing over how ridiculous they look

If you want to participate, he teaches you how to move them around too

When you decide you've had enough, he drags the limp doll that your ex has become through coals and discards the charred remains into a lake of corrosive acid

There, your ex, still just barely conscious, feels their body slowly breaking down until they dissolve to nothing

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub, in his ever-protective way, grows angry as you tell him about your abusive ex, but first and foremost his concern is making sure you're okay

He's quiet -- quieter than usual, even -- but fully present for you, reassuring you in the warm comfort of his large embrace

He holds you gently the whole time you're talking, and even for a while after, making sure you're feeling okay before he lets go

As thanks for being brave enough to talk about it, and for trusting him enough to tell him, he takes you out for anything at all that you'd like to eat, showering you with affection

He's perfectly happy to take it slow if/when you do eventually decide to ease into anything sexual, and he's so, so careful about his strength and size

His excellent sense of smell helps to guide him too, able to pick up the scents of happiness, desire, fear, lack thereof if you're dissociating, etc., and he adjusts himself accordingly to keep you feeling safe

And in general, though he may not have known you back then, he's filled with resolve to at least protect you from here on out

He won't fail to keep safe someone he cares about, not again -- and that means taking care of any lingering threats from your old life, too

It takes a bit of searching for Beelzebub to find your ex, but he goes up to the human realm and manages to seek them out soon enough because flies are good at seeking out rotting piles of trash

It takes a lot of restraint not to gobble them up on the spot and be done with it, but for how much they put you through, he thinks they deserve to suffer at least a bit

He snatches them away to a hidden alley behind a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, long after they've closed for the night but with the fragrant scent of meaty burgers still lingering through the air

If the shot of venom didn't already leave their muscles feeling tender, the incessant hits of the brutal physical beating from Beel certainly does

No part of their body is spared from the onslaught of punches and kicks, as joints pop apart and bones start peeking out from flesh through the wounds

Thin, spear-like tubes emerge from Beelzebub's mouth, piercing various veins across their neck and arms so he can drink up all the blood from their veins before it spills out all over the alley floor -- it'd be a waste of a perfectly good drink, after all

Once they're fully drained, he cracks open their carcass, carving each bone loose with knife-like claws for him to crunch on

Then into the restaurant's industrial meat grinder goes the rest of their body

Beel feasts with a certain satisfaction that night upon piles and piles of cheese-world humanburgers human-world cheeseburgers

BELPHEGOR

As you tell Belphegor about your past and your history with your abusive ex, he gives you his full, undivided attention

His stomach drops, as his prior deception and manipulation of you comes into full focus in light of all you had already been through

Holding you close, he whispers words of comfort and strokes your head gently until you fall asleep for the night, holding his own rest at bay until he's sure you've drifted off first

As a quiet, unspoken apology, he places soft and peaceful dreams upon you that night, filling your dream world with all the things he knows you love

If you're open to it, he also later creates dreams for you where things happened differently, quick to pull you out if anything starts going wrong but letting you get a redo on those traumatic moments where you have more power or where you can watch a cartoonish anvil drop on your ex's head to stop them, whatever works really

Intimacy comes gradually, if/when you're ready, happy to follow or take the lead as you prefer, but communicative every step of the way so that you always feel safe

And as for your ex...

Belphegor already held the opinion for a long time that humans were shit -- but until this moment, he had dropped his desires to destroy them, after everything with Lilith had come to light

But you're still a human, after all, and he loves you, so he'll settle for taking care of just this particular shitstain of a human being

Needless to say, your ex never knows a peaceful night's sleep again

Each time they close their eyes to rest, devilish apparitions appear at the edges of their vision, and menacing claws and teeth rip at their ankles, chasing them across worlds

At times, when the teeth manage to catch them in their grasp, their dreams turn to endless loops of being chewed up and spit out over and over on end

The resulting constant exhaustion is a nightmare of its own, as they begin to fear falling asleep and desperately try to wake themselves any time they feel sleep coming on

However, in their waking hours, too, Belphie twists and warps shadows around them, until the lines between life and dreams blur together

They are practically sobbing for death by the time he comes for them personally, though he's not so merciful as to be quick about it even then

He chokes them to unconsciousness but lets go each time they fall unconscious, dragging the sharp prickly parts of his tail across their face to wake them back up before doing it over again

Once their face has been torn up beyond recognition by these repeated cycles, he finishes them off by trampling across their body in cow form and leaving them to suffocate slowly from their punctured lungs

#thank you for your patience!! #i guess it has been uh like 1.5 years since part 1...WHOOPS #please be mindful of the content warnings because this does get very violent! #obey me #obey me! #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me requests #obey me headcanons #obey me reactions #ask and ye shall be answered #mod chaos in the devildom #abuse cw

[inhuman-obey-me]

👁️ for Satan with Mc included please? Also, congrats on the 4k followers!! :D

"Won't you show me your weakness?" - Satan/MC

The library armchair is as plush as ever, but no matter how much you shift around, you can't seem to get yourself comfortable in it tonight. Your thoughts are too loud, and for the umpteenth time, your eyes drift away from the book in your hand to the crackling embers of the fireplace.

"You always look so happy-go-lucky," Solomon's words from earlier echo in your head again.

It had been an innocent remark, just a random observation, while you and the Cat Chat spent a peaceful, fun afternoon at the Cat's Eye at Satan's request. After all, the sorcerer always likes to see you looking happy, and it was true, you had been enjoying yourself there with the two of them. It wasn't as if he'd meant anything by it.

Still, the words swirl around in your mind like an accusation.

You're not always happy-go-lucky, even if you look it. Actually, you wouldn't say you're very happy at all, lately. It's just that the smile finds its way to your face every time, without fail, when everyone else is around. Your cheerful attitude always brightens everybody's day -- that's what they tell you. And maybe for that reason, you find yourself acting cheerful when they're around, even as a dark emptiness grows in you in the times in between.

No, best not to dwell too hard on that. Don't think about that part of you screaming in your head in the silence. Don't think about that part of you that wants to rip it all down.

You tighten your grip around the warmth of your mug, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to fill the cold pit in your stomach with a hearty gulp of hot chocolate. The Seven Lords, Vol. 11 droops limply in your other hand, and with a shake of your head, you attempt once again to escape into the fantastical, faraway world where Henry can keep being exactly what everybody needs, all the time.

The Lord of Masks has got nothing on me, you think to yourself bitterly, and as you set your cup down, the hard clang of the ceramic against the metal coaster rings a little louder than you intended.

From the other side of the table, Satan's head snaps up at the sound. "Hey," he barks with annoyance, and you wince, bracing yourself for a sharp rebuke for interrupting his own reading.

Instead, however, his expression softens almost immediately. "Hey," he says again, more gently this time. "Are you still bothered by what Solomon said earlier?"

"What do you mean?" Automatically, you paste on an oblivious smile again, hiding your surprise. He knew?

He fixes a hard stare upon you as he chooses his words. "You know, you can't fool me of all demons by doing that."

"Doing what?"

"That. Smiling like that. You do it all the time. But I know that smile. I do the same thing." He moves closer and kneels down next to your chair, taking your hand. "I'm the Avatar of Wrath, I know when you're frustrated or upset about something. When you're unhappy, you don't have to act so strong about it. You can be honest with me. If you're unhappy, just be unhappy."

"I'm not trying to be strong," you argue, even as the corners of your mouth stay stubbornly upturned. Your voice cracks slightly, unsure yourself whether it's true. "I'm not trying to keep smiling. I just...do. Even if I don't want to, I can't help it."

He nods with understanding. "Alright. Smile unhappily then. But you've got to stop holding it in underneath. Come on, won't you show me your weakness? Scream if you want to. Get angry if you want to. Just let it out until you can't smile anymore."

#obey me #obey me! #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me satan #om! satan #obey me satan x mc #obey me satan x reader #obey me fic #obey me drabble #writings #drabble #4000 follower celebration #mod chaos in the devildom

[inhuman-obey-me]

levi + 🚪 no mc please!

"I feel a sickness for a home I’ve never been." - Leviathan

"YES, I got the last piece of the set!" Leviathan shouts excitedly to himself, happily setting the new piece to his gear before inputting a dance command.

The little avatar on his screen begins to bop around, moving its arms cheerfully to no particular music as if to show off the new jacket it's wearing. The blurry pixels that make up the character's face look like they're smiling, just like the Avatar of Envy is, beaming from his seat as he reaches up to stretch for the first time in hours.

Messages from his guildmates start rolling in, too, filling the chat with, "YOOO CONGRATS" and "omg sooo jealous" and "looks AMAZING, man!!"

Ah, satisfaction.

And then, killing his elation just as quickly -- "alright, I think that's it for me tonight."

"Wait, some of you still need another drop from this dungeon though, right? Let's not stop yet," Levi types frantically. For the first time all night, he notices his eyes stinging from the strain of playing for so many hours straight, but he's desperate not to log off. If anything, his chest is starting to constrict at the thought, full of panic at the idea of ending already.

The others, however, are done. They collectively decide this is a good place to stop for the night, and one by one, he watches his teammates' avatars disappear from the screen, leaving his character alone in the field, still dancing away.

And, just like that, the night's distraction is over. Groaning with frustration, he scrolls idly through his quest list, checking for something, anything to still do. A dungeon, a raid, maybe some limited-time seasonal event? Of course, he's already completed all the most fun quests though, and the only things still available for him to handle alone are mindless, repetitive tasks. Boring.

He closes out the game too, dropping his head into his hands in defeat. He should get some sleep anyway, admittedly. Lucifer will be mad if he oversleeps come morning, after all.

It's just, the moment he turns around, he'll have to see that same damn room again -- his new one, with its jellyfish lamps and porcelain white tub for a bed. He'd been excited about it at first, since he'd gotten to decorate it with all his otaku paraphernalia, and the fish tank walls really did cast a lovely blue glow over everything. His figurines look great in their displays, and his entire manga collection is neatly organized on the shelves, just how he likes it.

It's a good room. It's got all of his favorite things. It's very distinctly his -- no more of the dusty old guest rooms of the Demon Lord's Castle, each one indistinguishable from all the others.

He should like it.

But that doesn't change what the room is: new. This is his new room, in a new house, in this new realm, with a new body, having to make a new home, and it's all because he's not welcome in his old one anymore. The Celestial Realm cast them out, and he'll never see his old room in the Celestial Palace again. He'll never get to stay in that nice, comfortable, familiar place anymore, and the thought makes him deeply envious of his past self who got to enjoy his time there so obliviously, never even realizing that those days would come to an end!

Then again, if he's honest with himself -- wasn't he the same way back then, too?

It's just a sickness for a home that's never been. Truthfully, he didn't feel any more comfortable in his skin as an angel than he does as a demon. Having his brothers with him is what makes a place home more than anything else, but even they don't really understand him.

No one does.

But there's always escaping into his games, his anime, his manga. In those, he can imagine himself as the hero. He doesn't have to think about what a sad, pathetic demon he is now. He doesn't have to think about being a demon at all. He can be whatever he wants to be, wherever he wants to be.

And where he wants to be right now, is not here. Anything would be better than thinking about all this again. Late night be damned, he's not ready to face this yet.

Screw it, he's not going to sleep. He boots up another game.

#obey me #obey me! #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer #omnb #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #om! levi #om! leviathan #leviathan angst #obey me angst #obey me fic #obey me drabble #writings #drabble #4000 follower celebration #mod chaos in the devildom

[inhuman-obey-me]

👼w/ lucifer, no mc

"I can’t seem to forget the halo that I used to see." - Lucifer

cw: alcohol, Nightbringer season 1 spoilers

The amber liquid in Lucifer's glass smells dark and sweet.

He's had it a few times before, at the demon prince's invitation, but it's still a bit strange to him, this thing called Demonus. It's not like the ambrosial sweetness of what he used to drink in the Celestial Realm, honey-bright and delicate as flower petals in the wind. That had been airy and full of light, tasting of sunbeams on the trees from which the fruits were picked to make it.

Demonus, however, is something completely different. Actually, he's surprised to find he likes it. It's rich and heady, with a spiciness that lingers on his palate long after each sip. Indulgent, sweet not like honey but like sin. A hint of noxious brimstone burns at the back of his throat as he drinks, rising like a burst of sulfurous smoke directly into his nostrils. It leaves a slow trail of fire through him as it goes down, like lava running down the side of a volcano.

Each sip is an inescapable reminder of where he is now -- of what he is now. Of what they all are, now.

It's not that Lucifer regrets the war. Regrets losing, perhaps -- of course, since no one starts a conflict like that with the intent to fail. But even losing, on its own, would have been fine. There's a sense of freedom to his new life, here in the Devildom. He can say and do whatever he likes, unbeholden to his Father. Here, the insistent, nagging doubts swirling in his mind every day have stopped, no longer screaming to be heard, no longer screaming to be spoken. He had finally spoken them. He had fought for them. And if it only involved him, he would make the same decision a thousand times over again.

But it didn't. It wasn't only him. And now, he's not the only one paying for it.

His brothers had made the choice to follow him, and for that, he is grateful. He is grateful, every single day, not to have landed here alone. But they had followed him because they'd believed in him. His rebellion failing was one thing. What he really can't stand is that he failed them.

Lucifer sighs into his glass as Raphael's declaration from earlier that day rings in his head again -- "The Celestial Gates are open to the six of you, that you may pass through once more."

He won't return; now that he's tasted this freedom, he knows he'll never be satisfied in the Celestial Realm again. But, the others...

Maybe Raphael is right. Maybe his brothers should go. Even if it means leaving him and Satan behind, maybe it's for the best. Maybe it's true -- the wings at their backs should be white. Even now, he can't seem to forget the halos that he used to see over each of their heads.

It's his fault those halos don't shine over them anymore. It's his fault they've become horns instead. It's his fault they aren't angels anymore, and he doesn't want it to be his fault that they stay that way. They won't like leaving him, but who is he to ask them to stay?

It was his war. It was his failure. It should be his punishment to bear. Alone.

#and now slap him in the face for how wrong he is #but we love him for it #obey me #obey me! #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer #omnb #obey me lucifer #om! lucifer #obey me fic #obey me drabble #obey me angst #writings #drabble #4000 follower celebration #mod chaos in the devildom

[inhuman-obey-me]

Congratulations on +4000 followers. You deserve all the support <3 May I request 🗡️ with Lucifer? Tbh I have LOTS of requests, these prompts have my head running wild. But I'll settle for one for now ^^' have a good day/night :)

Hahaha, thank you, and we're glad you like the prompts!! We're quite excited about them too! (๑>ᴗ<๑)

"Let the knife leave its mark." - Lucifer

content warning: violence, torture, gore/blood

Lucifer has never much minded being called a sadist. He's been accused of it since long before he became a demon. If anything, some might even think he's gone soft since the fall, or so Simeon teases.

His present victim, however, would disagree. Unlike the former seraph, he never actually knew Lucifer as an angel. But what the Avatar of Pride is doing to him now cannot possibly be called soft -- can it?

Lucifer takes his time, carefully examining the way the blood snakes its way down the blade with the judgmental eye of a professor examining his student's work. But although he has been known to teach the occasional course at RAD, and the lesser demon before him is indeed a student at the academy, this is most certainly not standard coursework.

With a tut, Lucifer stands and plucks a similar tiny knife out from the stomach of the puppet in Dresop's hands. The lesser demon winces hard, trying his best to resist automatically squeezing on the doll as the knife that was in his own belly removes itself and disappears. He'd made that mistake earlier, and had earned himself some extra bruises in the process.

"The angle is 0.2 degrees off. Again," the Avatar of Pride instructs, closing up the other's wound with a wave as he hands Dresop the miniature blade again for the umpteenth time.

How long has he been at this, now?

It's an effective punishment, to be sure; over the last several hours, he certainly has come to regret his actions quite deeply. The lesser demon had attacked and injured one of the RAD fangol team members in hopes of opening up a spot for himself to join before the yearly tournament. When he'd been captured, the student council vice president had offered him a choice: Dresop could either inflict the same wounds upon himself once, using this puppet, or Lucifer would do it to him fifty thousand times over himself.

Dresop had chosen what he'd thought was the obvious choice. He hadn't understood what it had actually meant.

He understands now, too late. The Avatar of Pride is unrelentingly strict, and he will not accept anything short of perfection. It'll only extend his punishment further if he's careless about where he strikes.

His eyes are bleary with pain, but he tries to blink away the fuzziness from his vision so he can focus again on the photo of the fangol player's injuries. With a deep breath, he attempts to stop his fingers from trembling as well, trying again to line up the tip of the knife on the puppet to match how the injury looks in the picture.

Another knife materializes in his stomach again as he pushes the blade in, and Dresop has to choke down the bloody bile rising in his throat before his hand shakes from the convulsions, earning a wry smirk from Lucifer.

The Avatar of Pride leans down to examine Dresop's handiwork once again, then slowly straightens back up so he can look down upon the shaking fiend hunched before him.

"Well, after sixty-three thousand, two-hundred forty-seven attempts, it appears you've finally managed to produce a single satisfactory result," he remarks, a vicious smile spreading across his lips. "We can finally let the knife leave its mark."

He hands the demon another one.

"Only twelve more to go, then. And I expect you ought to be quicker about it this time."

#we also still have your ask from....a while ago #we do plan get to it eventually!! #obey me #obey me! #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me lucifer #obey me fic #obey me drabble #writings #drabble #4000 follower celebration #mod chaos in the devildom #gore cw #blood cw #torture cw #violence cw

[inhuman-obey-me]

Hello!! I think Asmo with the 🏃 prompt would be really cool :] idc if MC is present or not!

"You look better when you’re running away." - Asmodeus

The Avatar of Lust lowers his eyes in a sickeningly sweet glare at the sea-loving demon in his grasp, taking him in fully with graceful judgment.

"We all have our angles, Mortoliel, sweetheart. For example, I look stunning at any angle, of course, but I'm extraordinarily lovely with my head tilted just this way, thirteen degrees to the right, and the camera pointed down to accent how shy and sweet I am. You see? Just like this."

Asmo pauses to position himself correctly, smiling sweetly into the lens of his D.D.D. for a quick selfie before moving on, giving a little giggle at the click of the shutter even as his slenderly manicured fingernails claw dangerously against the flesh of the other's throat.

"And my older brother, who you so crassly thought you could embarrass, is actually quite a cutie, you know? He likes to make some weird poses, and his costumes are a bit silly sometimes, sure, but those earnest little photoshoots of his really do bring out his charm. I mean, it is charming, wouldn't you agree?"

"Of course," Mortoliel grunts nervously in agreement. Sweat drips from his palms, whether due to fear or due to the Avatar of Lust's eyelashes fluttering alluringly as the champagne-haired devil flips through a couple photos on Devilgram to demonstrate his point -- the very same ones the lesser had tried recently to use against the Grand Admiral of Hell's Navy, in fact, though it feels quite distant to think of it now.

Asmo, however, pays no mind to the lesser demon's bodily reactions. He hums to himself with distracted satisfaction, tapping twice on the screen each time he flips it forward to give the next cosplay photo a like before moving on.

Leviathan really is so cute and shy about these things. He's wildly incorrect if he thinks his social media savvy sibling wouldn't know about his secret cosplay account, but it's endearing, truly -- even if Asmo really would rather not listen to another hours-long tirade lauding the many ways his brother finds the sparkling pink anime girl to be the pinnacle of charm. After all, his own adorable younger brother is right there...!

Absently, his fingers curl a little tighter at the thought, and a gasping squeak from the throat of the lesser demon at hand draws Asmo's attention back to the present.

"Right, well, that's my big brother for you. What works for him doesn't work for everyone. Like I said, we all have our strengths! And you, my dear, you..."

Suddenly, Mortoliel is let free from the grasp around his neck, leaving the lesser demon stumbling as he gasps for air. He scrambles to his feet, afraid to take his eyes off of the beautiful demon lest he be seized again. But Asmodeus makes no move to grab him again -- at least, not yet. He simply turns his saccharine smile back towards the lesser demon, directing the lens of his phone down to follow his gaze. And in the shadows shifting across his soft features as he does, the sweet expression turns sinister.

"Well, Mortoliel, you look better when you're running away. I'll give you a head start, so make sure to make it pretty for me, mmkay?"

#here i go with yet another deliciously malicious asmo drabble #and i only kept it short by starting with the ending and ending up just turning that into the whole thing #the more i write the more verbose i seem to get?? help #obey me #obey me! #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #omnb #obey me nightbringer #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me fic #obey me drabble #writings #drabble #4000 follower celebration #mod chaos in the devildom

[inhuman-obey-me]

It’s the anon who asked for the brothers finding out about reader being abused and getting revenge, and I just wanted to say, I’ve just finally read a buncha your commentary on Diavolo, and I’m honestly so curious how that’ll all play into that scenario. (and Barbados’s enjoyment of torture, not to mention just how terrifying an angry or vengeful Solomon and Simeon are shown to be)

Also just wanted to say I still really appreciate the work y’all do, and the thought you put into your writing and analysis, it’s all super interesting, and really well done, and I’m sure I can speak for a lot of us when I say thanks for all y’all are doing for the fandom!

Ahhh, thank you!! We really love the characters, so we are always trying our best to express what we see in them haha, and we're so glad people enjoy our analysis and overthinking.

And yes, it's taking me shamefully long to get to finishing each part of that request, but Diavolo's politics, Barb's love of torture, and vengeful Simeon + Solomon are all going to touched upon for sure!

- Mod Chaos

#ask and ye shall be answered #thanks for being so nice to us 🥺 #obey me #mod chaos in the devildom

[inhuman-obey-me]

Can please request 🥀 with Mammon and MC please

"I'd rather die than keep you alive." - Mammon x MC

content warning: blood, reference to events of lesson 16

The shadowy form grins at him, fangs bared and glinting with malice. "Come on, Mammon, I know what you really want. Kill them. They're only human."

"I'd never do that, you idiot! Ya think I'd kill them over something so stupid?" The Avatar of Greed grits his teeth, his own fangs gleaming back. "Just because ya look like me doesn't mean you know what I want!"

"That's what you think," it cackles back. "But I don't just look like you. I came from you. I am you."

Mammon tightens his grip on the other's throat, feeling the pressure reflecting back on his own as if to confirm its words.

It had been his own mistake, as usual. He'd gotten carried away with his greed and perhaps pilfered a few things that he really shouldn't have. But even so, he hadn't expected a phantasmal demon to ambush him from inside one of the boxes he'd taken home -- especially not one like this, a particularly nasty species of specter known for manifesting as an embodiment of one's cruelest impulses. And then there was the photo in the group chat, showing off your day's excursion with Asmo, causing a badly timed spike of jealousy on the elder brother's part...

It was an intrusive thought, nothing more. He'd never really hurt you. But for the insidious little shade, it was enough -- more than enough -- to latch onto him, to implant itself into him, and to take his form and take the worst in him hostage.

Mammon digs a taloned finger into the mirroring demon's neck, hissing against the sting as he feels the same wound cut into his own. It taunts gleefully, "Killing me is only killing yourself, you stupid wretch. But you're not the one who should die. Destroy that little human. It'll be so satisfying to watch the life leave their body, you know. Go on, kill them."

"Shut up! I already told ya, I'd never do that!"

There's a tinge of fear in Mammon's voice now, a terrified chill running up his spine -- he already has a memory of your limp body in his arms once before, his palms drenched in the deep red of your blood. His spindly wings flash out behind him on instinct at the thought, crushing the lesser devil against the hard concrete of the wall behind it with the force of their beating.

Still, it doesn't seem concerned, instead satisfied to have struck a nerve. "Then I'll kill them myself. It'll be so easy in this body. You don't want to die just to protect one puny little human."

"I'd rather die than keep a monster like you alive! I won't let ya lay a single finger on them!"

Twisting the points of his claws deeper in with frustration, a gurgle of blood spurts out of his own mouth. Still, the Avatar of Greed pushes past the pain, and with a hard growl, he gives one more hard squeeze. His own consciousness is barely holding out -- but it does, just long enough to hear the knock at his door, and your concerned voice calling to him from the other side.

"Mammon? Are you in there? Are you okay?!"

In an instant, the figure beneath his fingers fizzles to nothing, the impulsive feelings it had stolen immediately banished from his mind at the sweet sound of you. His vision is fuzzy at the edges, but he gives himself only a moment to brace himself against the now-empty wall before stumbling to open the door. "What are you yelling about? Why wouldn't I be okay? Of course I'm okay, ya dummy," he grins at you, fighting back a wave of nausea.

You gasp at the still bloody gashes in his neck, rushing forward to check on the wounds. "You don't look okay! What happened?!"

"Nothing ya need to worry about! You should know that nothing can take down the Great Mammon," he answers with a bravado that sounds weaker to your ears than he realizes. He stumbles forward, masking it under the guise of embracing you, before mumbling deliriously and finally passing out, "As long as you're safe."

#don't worry he's not dead!! #also the length has...once again gotten away from me a bit #but hopefully that makes up for how incredibly late this is ;; #mod chaos in the devildom #obey me #obey me! #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me mammon #om! mammon #obey me mammon x mc #obey me mammon x reader #obey me fic #obey me drabble #writings #drabble #2700 follower celebration

[inhuman-obey-me]

Protection

Written for Solomon’s Birthday 2022!

Word count: 477

Description: Why deal with your thoughts when you could throw yourself into work instead? At least, that's how Solomon deals with his feelings.

Can also be read on AO3 here!

Solomon keeps his hands busy and his mind busier. Magic is infinite and limitless, and even eternity hasn't satisfied his ambitions yet. There are too many things he wants to research, too much he wants to learn. Each success opens the way to new ideas; each failure still teaches him new lessons.

And it's a lot easier dreaming of new experiments than thinking about old ones.

His transgressions, his regrets, the prices he'd paid to achieve what he had -- they dangle at the edges of his thoughts, taunting him in his moments alone. So he doesn't leave himself with moments alone. He throws himself into another experiment, always working, always focused. It keeps the nagging whispers at the back of his mind, safely pushed away so he doesn't think about them too hard.

He examines the contents of the tube in his hand, swirling it to see how the properties of the crystal inside change as they make contact with the potion he'd poured inside. Purple edges slide to green, and pink bubbles push their way slowly up through the viscous liquid. Magic shimmers at his fingertips, pushing the liquid deeper into the crystal until the whole vial is filled with only rock and froth. Dumping the crystal out into his hand, it glows faintly with the same green glow, a color more grassy than eerie, and he can feel the lingering warmth of his magic against the sides.

Then, with a softly murmured incantation, it crumbles to pebbles in his palm. He pours the pieces into a small pouch, taking care not to spill a single one, and places that inside a small plush, in the shape of an adorable pink sheep that had reminded him of you.

It's the third protective charm he's put in it this week.

It hasn't escaped his notice how some of his pactmates -- not the ones he's befriended, like Asmodeus, but some of the others who still resent him, angrier demons like Berith and Zepar -- have been skulking around near you lately. He doesn't think they'll do anything to you, not really, not when you have pacts with seven of the most powerful demons in the realm yourself, and the support of the Devildom Prince to boot. But Zepar still holds a bitter grudge over the particular way Solomon obtained his pact, and well, he wouldn't put it past tricky devils to try to use you against him somehow.

A few more incantations, and the pouch of pebbles dissolves to fluff, indiscernible from the stuffing the toy already had. He'll give it to you next week -- it's cute and fluffy, and he's pretty sure you'll like it.

There's a knock at his door. "Solomon, I made you a sandwich! Remember to eat it, okay?" Simeon calls from outside.

He hardly even hears it. He's already working on the next one.

#mod chaos in the devildom #obey me #obey me! #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me solomon #om! solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon x mc #obey me fic #Obey me drabble #writings #drabble #happy birthday solomon #dammit this was supposed to be a quick birthday drabble but i think i wrote an ominous prologue chapter instead?? #BUT i made it before midnight so whatever its fine!!