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misc-obeyme · 7 months

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THE THREADS THAT BIND

CHAPTER EIGHT AND A HALF

MASTERPOST for summary/info/chapter list

a/n: Okay time for a lengthy author's note about this bonus chapter. This is a bonus chapter because I wasn't originally going to write this part at all. This is what happens when Arsenios and Solomon go looking for the counter curse. (If I was naming chapters, this one would be called "The Misadventures of Arrie & Sol.")

This is essentially an MC and Barbatos love story, so I didn't think I really needed to write this part since neither MC nor Barbatos are in it. Then I thought people might want to see what happened, so I decided to write it and post it as a bonus. This means that you do not need to read this chapter at all if you don't want to. You can skip it all together and the rest of the story will still make sense.

That being said, this scene is written from Arsenios's point of view. So I feel the need to clarify a couple things about him. First, know that he is all bark and no bite. He will threaten people all day and then never actually follow through. Second, there is a reason why he doesn't like Solomon, but it has nothing to do with Solomon and everything to do with Arsenios and his past. Arsenios is aware of this, but he's still struggling with it lol.

Okay, that's it, sorry for the rambling. If you do decide to read this, I hope you enjoy it! Back to MC and Barbatos in the next chapter!

GN!MC x Barbatos still, but neither make an appearance in this chapter and you can skip it if you so desire | word count 1,377

Warnings: demon OC, sorcerer OC, minor violence (no blood), a lot of empty threats, manipulative magic, I think that's it...?

Arsenios folded his arms, frowning at Solomon, who had the same usual annoying smile on his face. Arsenios had come to Purgatory Hall to find Solomon so they could go to the human world and find the counter curse for Barbatos.

Now he was standing inside the living room, trying to explain where Tobias's house was located.

"So you're saying it's in a forest?" Solomon asked.

"It's more like on the outskirts of a city," Arsenios said. "But there are just a lot of trees there. Man, don't you have a map or something?"

Solomon laughed lightly. "Would you know how to find the house on a map?"

Arsenios frowned even harder, unhappy about the fact that Solomon had a point.

Solomon patted Arsenios's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I think I know the location you're talking about. Why don't I take us there and you can tell me if I'm wrong?"

Arsenios glared at Solomon. "I guess."

Solomon kept his hand on Arsenios's shoulder and recited the teleportation spell.

Arsenios felt himself get a little dizzy before he was suddenly in a new place. The light from the human world sun nearly blinded him. He tried not to hiss at it as he raised an arm to shield his eyes.

"Sorry about that," Solomon said. "I forget demons can be sensitive to sunlight if they rarely leave the Devildom."

"I spent plenty of time in the human world," Arsenios said. "Tried to come at night when I could, though."

"Sure," Solomon said. "But that was a long time ago, wasn't it?"

Arsenios huffed. He looked around at where they were. They were standing on a small street with a dead end. There were indeed trees everywhere and a rickety old house at the end of the street. The nearest neighbor was far enough away that they couldn't even see their house.

"Hey," Arsenios said. "This is exactly the right spot. How did you know it?"

Solomon shrugged. "The Sorcerer's Society isn't far from here. A lot of sorcerers live in this general area. I recognized the way you described the trees here, so I figured it must be this spot."

Arsenios didn't want to be impressed, but he was. "All right, now what?"

"Now, we go ask him politely to give us the counter curse," Solomon said.

Arsenios was ready to argue with this idea, but Solomon was already walking down the street to the front door of the house.

When they reached it, Solomon knocked loudly.

Only seconds passed before the door opened.

The sorcerer standing in the doorway was short, wearing a rather dramatic black cloak, and glaring at them. The minute he saw Solomon, his scowl deepened. Although Solomon had never actually met Tobias before, there was no doubt that his reputation had preceded him. Tobias started to close the door.

Solomon seemed to anticipate this, though. He grabbed the door and held it open.

"Hello, Tobias," he said, his voice just as cheerful as it always was.

Tobias looked at him, then at Arsenios, then back at Solomon. "What do you want, Solomon?"

"I heard you've been teleporting into the Devildom without permission," Solomon said.

"Have you become a guard dog for demons now?" Tobias asked. He sneered. "What am I saying. You've always been the demons' bitch."

"Wow," Arsenios said. "Listen, I'm not Solomon's biggest fan, either, but you're talking about an immortal man who has seventy two pacts. You know how pacts work, don't you?"

Tobias looked at Arsenios a little more carefully. "And who exactly are you?"

"None of your business," Arsenios said. "We're here for the counter curse. Hand it over."

Tobias blinked. "Counter curse?"

"Don't play dumb," Arsenios snarled. "You tried to curse Barbatos, but it hit MC instead. Give us the counter curse."

"The binding threads curse," Solomon said. "You have written a counter curse for it, haven't you?"

Tobias tugged on the door, but Solomon kept hold of it. "Of course I have, but I don't see why I should give it to you."

Solomon sighed and looked at Arsenios with raised eyebrows.

"I know what you want me to do," Arsenios said. "But do I really have to bother using my power on this idiot? I think I could beat the location out of him just fine."

Tobias paled as Arsenios began to roll up his sleeves. He pulled harder on the door, but it still wouldn't budge.

"I think Barbatos would prefer it if we didn't resort to violence," Solomon said. "Anyway, do you really want to get all bloody? I would think it'd be easier to just use your power."

Tobias gave up on the door and ran into the house.

"Oh, now, you wasted too much time talking," Solomon said.

"Me?" Arsenios demanded. He poked Solomon in the chest. "You're the one who won't shut up."

Arsenios didn't wait to hear Solomon's response to this, which was likely some witty quip he didn't want to hear anyway.

Instead he went inside the house.

The main room was a sort of foyer, an empty space with a staircase and a few open doorways leading to other rooms.

Arsenios didn't need to go in any farther. He felt Solomon enter the room and close the door behind them, cutting off the sunlight and plunging the house into a sort of grey dimness.

Arsenios took a deep breath and then he began to sing. As he did, his eyes glowed purple.

The song was not complex. For persuasion, a simple song was best. He sang in the ancient language of demons, his mother tongue, as it was easiest for him to infuse with intention.

It was a quiet and eerie song, one to match the strange place they were standing in.

There was a clatter from deep inside the house. And then Tobias came down the stairs, a folded piece of paper in his hands. His eyes were dull, his expression listless. He looked like he was sleepwalking.

Tobias walked straight to Solomon and held out the paper to him.

Solomon took it, looked it over, and nodded. "This is the right one, Arsenios."

Arsenios stopped singing.

Tobias blinked. Then he made as if he was going to snatch the paper out of Solomon's hand.

Arsenios grabbed the back of his cloak before he could and lifted him entirely off the ground. Tobias squeaked, kicking his feet.

Solomon walked over to Tobias and tapped his chest with the paper. "Thanks for this. I hope I don't have to tell you that you shouldn't come back to the Devildom for a while. Barbatos isn't pleased about all of this. And I have to admit, neither am I."

"You can’t just come to my home and bully me like this!" Tobias said, still struggling.

Solomon laughed. “You didn’t honestly think you could mess with a demon like Barbatos without repercussions, did you? You should be grateful he can’t come deal with you himself. It would’ve been a lot worse for you.”

“Put me down! I’m not interested in your posturing!” Tobias said.

"I think I’ll share one more song with you,” Arsenios said. “Just to make sure you don’t think about coming back to the Devildom.”

"I don't know if that's really necessary," Solomon said. "I think he's learned his lesson."

Arsenios didn't respond, only began to sing again, eyes glowing briefly. It was a short, sharp song, something that would simply remind Tobias not to return to the Devildom. A slight influence that would play in his mind whenever he considered it.

Arsenios dropped him. Tobias landed with a little thud, still on his feet. He looked surprised that he wasn’t hurt, but he scrambled away in fear all the same.

"Let's go," Arsenios said, turning to Solomon.

Solomon laughed. "You're so scary, Arsenios!"

Arsenios rolled his eyes because he knew he was being made fun of. "Whatever, can we just go back now? I don't like being here."

"Of course, of course," Solomon said.

Solomon put his hand on Arsenios's shoulder and brought them back to the Devildom, landing them directly in Purgatory Hall's living room.

"Thanks for your help," Solomon said.

Arsenios shrugged. "I only did it because of Barbatos. You've seen him with MC."

"Yes, I have," Solomon said.

They exchanged a knowing look.

"Anyway, we can give this to Barbatos at RAD tomorrow," Solomon said.

"Great," Arsenios said, turning to leave.

"By the way, Arsenios," Solomon said.

Arsenios looked over his shoulder.

"Are you sure you wouldn't be interested in making a pact-"

Arsenios didn't even wait to hear the rest, only turning away again and walking out the door. He rolled his eyes as he heard Solomon chuckling behind him.

masterpost | chapter one

chapter eight | chapter nine

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me demon oc #misc oc arsenios #the threads that bind #misc writes

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trash-opposum · 6 months

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Listen- listen- listen-

Demons who have characteristics to their human realm counterparts.

For example-

Lizard demons who can drop their tails when threatened and shed

Gecko demons who are very talkative individuals and can make chirping/clicking/squeaking sounds

Chameleon demons who can change colors

So on and so forth

THERE ARE S MANY GOOD OPPORTUNITIES

#as you can tell I’m on a lizard craze atm #also thinking about the Devildom citizens and how they look/act #obey me devildom #obey me demons #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me nightbringer #obey me demon oc

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hellkingart · 1 year

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In honour of Nightbringer, I've decided to update my boy's demon forms, starting with Alistair!

#my art #obey me! shall we date?#obey me!#obey me oc #obey me demon oc

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doodlboy · 7 months

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Finally got around to finishing both of D!El's sin symbols

#bloodlust els [left] is very self explanatory. a bleeding heart armed 2 the teeth #despair el tho needs a lil explanation ig?#the swirls are supposed to look like the comedy/tragedy masks ->🎭 while also being a symbol of the vicious cycle of despair #also the vicious cycle of his murder and subsequent rebirth/punishment for not wanting to keep going after belphie killed him #anyway :]#they aren't perfect bc I'm bad at symmetry and tired skdhdkdj #digital art #obey me #obey me mc #obey me oc #obey me demon oc #elliot doodles #also this counts as day 6 of #oc tober

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beels-burger-babe · 1 year

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Us Two in the Spotlight's Glow

***So, some of you may have seen I have a new Obey Me OC/D&D character named Sibella. She is all I can think about, and this was born. Enjoy. *** Summary: Sibella's life, and death, had always been empty and alone, until she gains a certain noble patron. Who knew the Avatar of Pride could make such good company?

The stage was many things. It was home. It was life. It was joy and despair. It was the only reason why Sibella could bring herself to rise from her bed sometimes.

But it was also horrendously lonely.

She hadn't realized it when she was still human, but since dying and awaking as demon of pride in the Devildom, she had come to recognize it as a simple fact of life.

Or, well, after life.

She hadn't minded at first — though she had certain words for which ever sick asshole decided to give her the whole "deer in headlights" look. Her life had always revolved solely around her career as prima ballerina. She didn't have time for things as small as friendship or a social life, when all that precious time could be spent perfecting her fouette. Why would that change now that she was buried six-feet under?

Sure, some might say that she missed out on a lot of the fun things, like partying at The Fall, or enrolling in that devil-forsaken academy. But she was happy.

She wasn't.

She was happy before.

She was tired before.

She could be happy now.

She tried not to think of how fucking empty she felt.

That's all there was to it.

She was a one woman show. The diamond that dazzled in the spotlight. She had fought tooth and nail to get to where she was, and she wasn't about to let something as fickle and strange as emotions take it from her now.

But death had a funny way of changing things. And the Devildom even more so.

Sibella had been making a name for herself for years. By now most of the Devildom knew of the hypnotic dance of the icy prima ballerina. She had a reputation. On stage: she would warm your hearts and move your very soul to the point that you would feel alive again. Off stage: she was colder than snow and no one could manage to get a single word out of her before she was either in her dressing room or fleeing to the dance studio.

Well, almost no one.

She had been in her dressing room after a show. Her performance had been flawless as always, though she was looking forward to a good soak in the tub when she got home to soothe her aching feet and bones. She had barely begun to take her hair down from the head-splittingly tight bun it had been pulled back into, when she heard it. "O-O-Oh. I'm sorry, sirs, but the lady doesn't take guests." She felt one of her long ears perk at the sound of her security guard's voice. He'd never been nervous around nosy fans. What the hell was going on out there?

"Perhaps. But I'm sure she can make an exception." Her frown turned into an afronted scowl at the sound of the deep, arrogant voice. She most certainly did not make exceptions. Had they any idea how precious her time was and how exhausting it was to perform like that? Why, the audacity to bother her after performance like-

"I-I-I ... I'm sorry, my Prince and Lord. I'm just following orders."

Sibella nearly dropped her hair brush as she whipped her head towards the door and looked at it with wide eyes. Prince. As in the Prince of the Devildom. As in Prince Diavolo. And did he say a lord was here as well? Even in her human days, Sibella had never achieved the honour of performing for royalty. But now she had done so unknowingly!

Her breath halted as she immediately began playing-back her performance in her mind. Sure, she was confident that she was a damn good dancer, but this was nobility! Had she slipped? Did she misstep at any point? Under rotate? Over rotate? Why had they come back to see her? Surely they were equally, if not more, busy than herself! If they wanted to take the time to see her, than perhaps she had messed up. Perhaps they were here to ban her from ever taking to the stage in the Devildom again or-

She couldn't help but yelp, throwing her brush across the room as a loud knock sounded at her door.

She managed to take in a few deep breaths, her heart banging against her chest, as she smoothed out her hair. "Yes?" She called out with as much neutrality as she could manage.

"Miss Sibella, I-I'm sorry to bother you ma'm, but you, um ... you have visitors. I-It's um ... It's Prince Diavolo and Lord Lucifer, ma'm."

Shit. When was the last time she even talked to someone who wasn't a member of the theatre's staff?

She caught a glimpse of her terrified expression in the mirror. With another grounding breath, she carefully smoothed her face into one of passive indifference as she rose to her feet — barely surpressing a wince as her tights-covered wounds met the floor once more. Pulling back her shoulders, and raising her chin, she opened the door.

Staring back at her was her bodyguard — who looked like he would rather be anywhere but here — a giant gigantic red-head with golden eyes that glittered with excitement and a wide grin — who she immediately recognized as the prince — and another man — slender, with dark hair and burning crimson eyes. He stood back, arms crossed with only mild interest on his face.

The red head moved forward, his smile growing impossibly wide, as he held out his hand. "Miss Sibella! It's an honour to meet you."

She took a moment to remember herself, bowing her head slightly before meeting his eyes once more. "The honour is mine. I wish I had known we would be dignified with such noble guests this evening. I would've had the staff prepare our best booth for you."

Sibella quickly repressed a flinch as the Prince burst into a strong, hearty laugh. "No need to worry about that! The V.I.P. booth is always reserved for me! I've owned this theatre for years. I've been meaning to see this esteemed performance of yours that everyone in the kingdom is talking about, and I am elated to have finally been able to drag old Lucifer down to see it with me! You are truly remarkable!"

Sibella's onyx eyes flickered curiously over to the gentleman accompanying the prince, only to find his eyes already resting on her. His eyes held an all-knowing gleam as he smirked at her. "Yes. I must send my compliments. I haven't seen a performance like that since my time in the celestial-realm," his eyes shifted back over to the Prince, giving Sibella the opportunity to control her slightly-flushed expression. "Though perhaps I may have enjoyed it more if someone hadn't been gasping and awing throughout its entirety."

Diavolo laughed, planting a heavy hand on Lucifer's shoulder as he did. "Oh! Your jokes always get me!"

The ballerina smiled politely as she maintained her eye contact with the Lord. "Then perhaps you should come again sometime. I assure you this is far from the only accompaniment that I dance to, and it is also not my most impressive. If you can find the time, I can guarantee that you won't be disappointed."

Sibella held her breath as she felt his onyx eyes pour over her entire being like a river's spring and seemingly pick her apart. She hadn't felt so exposed and vulnerable since- She lifted her chin higher and shook off the unwanted memories.

The lord tilted his head. "Perhaps, we will-"

"I will go buy us season tickets for your shows on the way out! It will be a great opportunity to get out of the office. Yes! Wonderful idea, Lucifer!"

Sibella did her best to bite back a giggle as Lucifer narrowed his eyes sharply at the Prince before sighing in defeat. "Of course, my lord."

The ballerina could almost see sparkles floating in the air around the Prince as he beamed. "Brilliant! Well, until next time then, Miss Sibella! We will see you again."

And they did.

They didn't attend every performance, but they were Sibella's most frequent patrons by far. Most of the time they would come together. Sometimes only Diavolo would come with different company by his side. Other times it was only Lord Lucifer, by himself. But regardless, they would always come to visit your dressing room afterwards for conversation. At first it was intimidating. She had increased her practice hours, nearly to the point of destruction, to push herself to maintain a performance level worthy of their presence. But as months passed, Sibella had begun to become more relaxed with the pair, and them her. She dared to say that she even looked forward to their pointless, time-wasting visits. It was ... nice.

One of said nights had been a particularly grueling routine. Sibella allowed the facade of strong, immovable, grace to drop the second she was hidden back stage and silently limped back to her dressing room.

She threw yourself onto her couch before ripping her satin slippers off her feet with a choked cry. Beneath them sat bloodied tights that hid bruised, blistered and swollen toes. She hissed through her teeth as she slowly peeled off the pink, thin fabric and examined her injuries.

She couldn't help but groan as a knock sounded at her door. She couldn't leave it ignored — not while knowing who stood behind it.

She looked up at the ceiling taking a minute to collect herself before pulling herself to her feet. Only, the second her poor toes touched the ground, a strangled shriek slipped from her lips and she had to quickly catch her balance on the arm of the couch as pain shot up her legs.

"Miss Sibella?" Fuck. It was Lucifer. Of course it had to be the observant one. "Are you alright in there?"

Sibella cursed under her breath, doing her damnedest, and failing, to bite back a whimper as she stood back up. "Of course. I-I'll be there in just a moment."

But the odds were not in her favor. Her abused legs felt like jello beneath her feet and threatened to give out with with every step she took. Her panicked eyes flickered desperately between the door, only 10 feet away from her, and the end of the couch, where she now stood. She could leap that distance in a single grand jete on a good day. Surely, she wasn't going to let it defeat her now?

With a choked deep breath, she lifted her hand away from the sofa and tried to quickly make her way to the door.

She was betrayed by her stupid feet. Sibella had barely managed to let out a yelp as she began to fall towards the ground.

The door swung open and two strong hands quickly caught her by her arms.

Her breath hitched as Lucifer helped her back onto her feet. "I was fine," she insisted.

"I can see that," the lord grumbled, keeping an arm fixed securely around the ballerina's shoulders as he looked at her injuries. "And I'm sure that you're in absolutely no pain at all, and if I were to let you go that you could walk back to that couch perfectly fine."

A flare of frustration ran through the proud demoness as she lifted her chin. "Most certainly."

"Then let's see it," he stated simply and began to remove his arms.

With gritted teeth and pure spite, Sibella held her breath as she wobbled her way back over to her couch and all but tripped into its cushioned comforts. "See?" she panted. "Perfectly capable."

Lucifer hummed with a raised eye brow. "Yes. And the trail of blood you left behind isn't discerning at all. You looked like a baby fawn attempting to walk on ice."

Sibella glared sharply at him as her ears tucked back against her skull. "You may leave now."

He scoffed and leaned against her vanity instead. "I think not. You're in no state to be alone right now. You're injured."

The ballerina waved off his concern. "Part of the repercussions of dancing. I told you, I'm fine."

"You're clearly not."

Anger boiled desperately beneath her skin in a way that only Lucifer could manage as she sneered at the lord. "And what would you do about it?"

The room froze as he locked eyes with her. His head tilted. Blood-red eyes narrowing. "Dress your wounds for starters. And then ensure that you made it home, and have what you need for recovery." Her pulse thrashed like a wild-beast inside of her as the lord drew closer. "You need me right now, even if you refuse to acknowledge it. You have no one else," shivers ran down her spine as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let me help you."

She tried to think of an alternative. Another way that ended with her safely making it back to her apartment. But her bodyguard was off for the day, and she knew that no one else would willingly help her. If she didn't accept this offer, she would be spending the night in her dressing room, which would be miserable for her already aching body. Not to mention unhygienic.

"Fine," she sighed, giving in and allowing herself to slump against the couch. "If it'll make you happy, my Lord."

He huffed and shook his head as he looked around her dressing room. It was clean, neat, perfect. Just like all things in her life. Any gifts she had been given by fans were in a organized drawer in her vanity. All makeup and hair products were specifically placed by her mirror. All costumes were bagged and hanged in order of use on her rack. Even though the room was practically a home away from home, she could never bring herself to customize it. Her dressing room was for the Prima Ballerina Sibella and her only. There was no space for sentiment here.

"Where is your first-aid kit?" Lucifer questioned, looking among her selection of dance slippers. Sibella silently pointed to the cabinet above the mini-fridge that the stage manager had set up for her. The lord nodded and walked over, removing a red box before taking a seat beside the demoness. With careful hands, he lifted her wounded feet into his lap, and grabbed some disinfectant.

They both remained silent as he worked and gently soothed the aches that had been condemning her with experienced hands. It wasn't until he had begun to wrap her feet in guaze that he spoke. "I will be sure to inform the director that you will not be performing this week."

The ballerina shot up, "What?!" she hissed venomously, her deer-like horns reappearing on her head as her demon form threatened to break loose. "No. You have no right. I am fine, Lucifer!"

He narrowed his eyes, and firmly pressed against her freshly-bandaged, fractured toes. A pained-cry tore itself from her throat before she could stop it. He raised an eyebrow and released his hold. "You can barely walk. You expect me to believe that you can dance the same routine that caused these injuries for the rest of the week?"

Sibella snarled and tore her legs back in towards herself. "You don't know what you're talking about. It's nothing I haven't done before."

He paused at her words, lips pulling into a thin line as he took in her furious, yet vulnerable state — Sibella hated the way it made her feel so open. "If you go out there like this, you will only further hurt yourself. Not only that, there is no possible way that you can meet your own high-standards for yourself in this condition. You will only become angry at yourself, and that will only get worse and worse with every performance you do without letting yourself rest and recover." The lord nodded to himself, as he stood and held out a hand towards the ballerina. "Come. You're going home. And you will be taking time off. I will personally ensure that you do."

She slapped his hand away and went to stand on her own once more.

Lucifer huffed, rolling his eyes, before scooping up the demoness in his arms. Sibella refused to make it easier for him. Keeping her arms crossed as he carried her out of the room. Although she was by no means pleased by this arrangement, she allowed him to continue with his plan. That was until they made it outside the theatre and she spotted exactly how the demon planned on taking her to her apartment. "Absolutely not," she hissed, her body tensing in his arms as she squirmed and pushed against him and tried to get away from the car he was carrying her towards. "Put me down. You're not putting me anywhere near that tin-death-trap!"

Lucifer gritted his teeth as he tightened his hold her. "Then, pray tell, how do you plan on me getting you back to your apartment?" She snarled at him, continuing her resistance. "Anyway but that! I only live down a block or two from here and usually jog as a warm up on my way to theatre!"

The demon sighed miserably. "Of course, you do," he made no effort to stop his movement towards the car. "I am not carrying you all the way there — not that it would be difficult. And you are in no condition to walk. So driving it is." "No! Stop!" She screamed as shifted into her demon form. "Put me down! I'd rather walk a thousand miles with shattered limbs that get in one of those monstrosities for a single second!"

Lucifer growled, attempting to secure his grip on the thrashing woman once more. "Will you stop acting like a child?! What in Diavolo's name is wrong with you?"

"I died because of those machines before and I refuse to do so again! Put me down!"

Lucifer froze, giving the demoness the opportunity to drop back onto her own two feet, and weakly stumble away from him. The lord blinked back at her. "You died in a car accident?"

She sneered at him from behind a deadly glare. "Does it matter?"

His lips pulled into a thin line as he glanced between his car and the demoness before sighing and approaching her once more. "I was unaware. We won't take the car," she looked up at him with wide-doe eyes. "I'll carry you. Just ... Wrap your arms around me."

Sibella stared at him for a moment — her anxiety riddled heart still running wildly in her chest. With trembling arms, she silently held onto his shoulders and allowed him to lift her into a bridal carry once more. "There," he whispered as their eyes met. Her breath caught at the shocking tenderness that hid within them. "See? Not too bad is it?" Lucifer chuckled as the demoness's cheeks flushed pink. He stared at her for a moment too long before clearing his throat and looking at the sidewalk ahead of them. "Just up the block, you said?"

"Yes," she muttered, leaning slightly into him. "It's the gothic, navy building across the street from Savonne." Lucifer hummed and began walking without further question, and Sibella ignored the rush of warmth that filled her heart for the first time in two life times.

*** GAH! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!! I hope you all enjoy Sibella as much as I do! I will keep ya'll up to date on what happens with her in the one shot! Thank you so much for the love and support! *** Taglist:

@thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @poly-bi-mf @burrixino @pumpkins-mainside-blog @acousticpen @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff @itskrispy @10paradox10 @vallison-rea @ivoryclive @newfangled-artistry @pumpkinpatchkid @chirikoheina @sailboat21 @theother4 @todoroses @circus-of-freaks @mcx7demonbros @bloopthebat

#obey me #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me oc #obey me demon oc #obey me fic #omswd fic #obey me shall we date fic #omswd lucifer #omswd luci #obey me luci #obey me lucifer #soft lucifer #protective lucifer #obey me diavolo #omswd diavolo #fan fic #fic

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kirisaki-catsune83 · 3 days

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I made a playlist for another one of my obey me oc's - Verrier Itazura! This is Azazel's bestie. (Well actually it's besties to enemies to besties again)

I drew the cover art for this one too btw

#art #artist #digital art #small artist #digital drawing #obey me #digital artist #oc #oc art #obey me oc #obey me shall we date #playlist #oc playlist #I'm brainrotting about these two and it is killing me because they're my oc's so no one cares about them like i do #best friends #probably secretly gay for each other #obey me demon oc #demon oc

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obbystars · 10 months

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ok here’s an actual post of my obey me oc, The Legion

buckle up its a long post

I’ve only ever drawn them like 3 times- You’ll likely see this blonde guy majority of the time

Also we’re not gonna talk about how my art style changes 3 god damn times anyway

Voice claim

This is The Legion’s voice as a whole. It’s rarely ever heard as they use the voices of their vessels.

SO! Here’s some facts on their history, though it also contains “theories”:

psst, all pronouns for The Legion, though they much prefer they/it

The Legion has been around for quite some time, though it’s not really known if they were around ever since Devildom was established or even before. Their origins are completely unknown, and it’s a common debate whether The Legion is one demon acting as many or a group of demons acting as one. Some think The Legion was originally from the Celestial Realm, though the reason for their fall is still open. Others think it is similar to the “hivemind.” There is one who stands at the very top, the one who makes more to support the “hive.” “The Legion” is more of a title rather than a name, but they seemed to embrace it as their name.

All of The Legion’s vessels are humans, majority being sorcerers and witches. One thing the vessels all have in common is that they were about to be unrightfully killed such as being accused of something they didn’t commit and was sentenced to death for it. This fact alone seems to support a theory saying that The Legion loved humans.

On the topic of “love,” The Legion is incapable of feeling romantic love. Friendships and family bonds are there, but romantic love? They can’t feel it. Humans confessing their love to one of The Legion’s vessels had always caught them off guard, even after many centuries later. Every time a human expressed their romantic feelings for them, The Legion just froze. They never know how to react and what to say, so they either just respond with “What?” or “Why?” Even after the human gives their reasons as to why they developed those feelings for them, they still can’t understand.

At some point, The Legion would say yes to a few hoping that perhaps they could understand it if they experienced it first hand. It did not, even when one of them had kissed them. They felt nothing. When The Legion told the humans they were with, they told them the truth of their own feelings and they learned very quickly how this can affect them in the long run. This would eventually lead to The Legion observing other couples in both the human realm and Devildom.

The Legion didn’t originally work for the demon kings, it was only until their activity really began to catch their attention. Now, they’re basically their eyes all around Devildom. Once one vessel knows something, the others now know it too as well as the demon king.

Considering this is way back when, humans in Devildom were really uncommon. This resulted in some mistreatment to the vessels as The Legion’s collection of vessels continued to grow over the centuries, so new faces were either a vessel or a human had truly somehow found their way in. To catch a Vessel of The Legion, you’ll only have to listen to how they talk. The Legion will always say “us,” “we,” and “our” whenever they refer to themself.

Okay, that’s enough of the distant past, let’s move further up:

The Legion had first met Diavolo when he was still very young. He found one of their vessels roaming the halls of the castle. Humans in the Devildom was still fairly uncommon, so he was curious. This encounter eventually resulted in the two being pretty close, pretty much to the point The Legion would babysit Diavolo time to time.

The Legion cherishes all of their vessels, and losing one would seriously hurt them. They wanted to experiment in trying to find a way into the Celestial Realm, though this was mainly done by accident. One of their vessels had ended up stuck in the Celestial Realm before that vessel was obliterated from existence.

At first, the angels were confused. A human had somehow found their way into the Celestial Realm. That is what went through their heads, until they realize what this “human” really was. A demon had found a way to enter the Celestial Realm through a human vessel. The last thing The Legion saw through that vessel’s eyes was The Morningstar.

One Master to Rule Them All!

(though i only played until lesson 20 after disappearing from the game after lesson 17 💀… ended up just playing Nightbringer so pardon- EITHER WAY, SPOILERS!!!)

The vessel that attends R.A.D is the one shown at the very top of the post (if the student id wasn’t enough), and as stated, they’re part of the newspaper club. The Legion wouldn’t make themself known to MC as a way to see what kind of trouble they’d get themself into. Either way, they wouldn’t show themselves until much later.

It’s also known that Asmodeus and The Legion are rather close friends. He mostly mentions them saying that he has plans with them, though that usually means he’s going out shopping with them or The Legion is sending a vessel down to HoL because Asmo wanting to do their makeup.

At some point, Asmo would tell MC a little bit about The Legion, and mention that the first time they met, his charm didn’t seem to work them. He was in shock and disbelief that for a little while, but The Legion does admit to him that they do find him good looking. And in my friend’s words from Discord, “Asmo knows that Legion doesn’t want him for his body or anything like his followers does and that means Legion actually finds him pretty and doesn’t feel compelled by his charm to hang around him. Like yes, Asmo loves the attention but people underestimate the power of platonic love and friendship, so Asmo cherishes Legion’s companionship A LOT.”

(if you see this bestie hiiiiii lol)

Moving on, they had always known about the situation with Lilith. After her reincarnation, The Legion had made an effort to try and find her just to make sure everything went smoothly. After some time, they had stopped watching, so they didn’t exactly know about the fact MC was in fact her descendant.

The first meeting would be accidental and unexpected. By that, I mean MC basically walked in on Diavolo and The Legion talking. Another human, apart from Solomon? Of course, Diavolo had to explain and properly introduce The Legion to MC and The Legion would admit that they’ve been keeping an eye on them since day one.

When MC returns to the human world after the exchange program, they’d likely run into another one of The Legion’s vessels. Expected, but surprising it was so quick. In general, The Legion would be curious about MC’s life in the human world and would ask if they could hang out for a little while. The Legion would stay in touch until MC returns to Devildom. They still come by every now and then but they don’t exactly play a major role anyway.

Nightbringer

WARNING!! MAJOR SPOILERS TO NIGHTBRINGER!!

MC meeting with The Legion is basically at the very beginning of the game when they suddenly fall into Devildom (again). Like Diavolo, they knew from the start that MC was human and not a demon, but due to the fact they quite literally have eyes everywhere, they knew where MC really came from. They just knew to stay quiet about it. They don’t ever mention this fact to MC and Solomon.

Speaking of the very beginning, remember the vessel that was obliterated from existence by The Morningstar? The Legion certainly recognizes Lucifer now, but the same can’t be said for him since it wasn’t clear that they had multiple when the vessel was destroyed. Not at first, at least. The Legion would mention that day to him.

The Legion doesn’t exactly hate him, they understood the reasons behind it, but that doesn’t mean they’re happy about it. Again, they cherish all of their vessels and dread the thought of losing one. They don’t let their grudge get in the way of things, but they do throw some comments here and there.

The vessels the MC meets with varies time to time. The blonde vessel makes a reoccurring appearance the most. Like the first game, the Legion would keep an eye on MC, but also on the brothers.

Yes, in Nightbringer, MC would see how Asmo and The Legion’s first interaction played out.

They wouldn’t exactly play a major role as of what’s happening in Nightbringer right now when this is posted (Lesson 16). Maybe they will later? Maybe not. We’ll see ;)

I think that’s all I can say about them :0

honestly I love them to bits, I do wanna ramble on about them more but I might end up just showing interactions between them and some other characters from a server I’m in idk

#obey me shall we date #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me nightbringer #obey me oc #obey me demon oc #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer

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perseidipity · 1 year

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Recently got back into Obey Me so I made a demon OC. More info on Toyhou.se

Made the ID card using @/kkshootingstar's template

#obey me oc #obey me demon oc #digital art #fanart #original character #Titivillus #i'm also nearly done with the refs for my MC: Veronica #i kinda really wanna make more demon OCs

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chai-likes-tea · 11 months

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My 3 obey me characters.

In order its Atsumi (main mc), Evelyn (side mc), and Aciel (a demon).

#obey me oc #obey me demon oc #obey me shall we date #art #digital art #fanart #procreate #doodle #procreateart

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another-lost-mc · 1 year

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"Circumstances have forced me to accept a wager that I want no part of. It’s against the owner of The Fall. If he wins, we have to let him stay at the House of Lamentation for a month." – Lucifer (A Roll of the Dice Devilgram) Or, the AU where Lucifer loses a bet and a new resident comes to stay at the House of Lamentation.

Good Fortune | AZRA x gn!Reader 5.7k words | SFW | Canon Divergence | Developing Relationship Content warnings: Demon OC x Reader. Cursing, references to violence/illegal activities, minor threats, awkward flirting and fluff, gossiping, social anxiety. A/N: The Fall and its owner are referenced in a lot of OM events/Devilgram stories so I got a little creative with the details.

The owner of The Fall, the Devildom’s most popular club, is a powerful demon that represents the best and worst parts of upper class Devildom society. Under the Demon King’s rule, Azra used threats and violence to secure his position and achieve his ambitions. Falling into line with Diavolo’s new vision for the Devildom simply means his methods of dealing with nuisances are less deadly - and he’s more cautious if he does have to resort to bloodshed.

When he visits Devildom’s other prominent establishments, it’s about business as much as it is about pleasure. He spends money and builds connections with other influential business owners, offering gifts or gestures of goodwill to demons of strategic value so he can call on them later to return the favour.

He’s at the casino one evening and feels especially bored, but Azra spots the Avatar of Greed playing dice at a table nearby. Usually he’s content to simply watch the money-hungry demon, who gambles like it's his last night in hell; his large bets and fast plays are a spectacle to behold whether he wins or loses. Azra approaches Mammon’s table, and when he sees the pile of chips dwindle to nothing, he decides to have a bit of fun.

Mammon is known for making ludicrous bets when he’s out of grimm, but offering a month-long overnight stay at the House of Lamentation is too intriguing for Azra to pass up. A chance to live with the Avatars of Sin is a rare opportunity. Some of them are frequent guests at his club for special events. However, most of the Devildom only know the brothers on a superficial basis; Lucifer is protective of his siblings and he tries to shelter their personal lives from public view.

Azra accepts Mammon’s wager and he agrees to postpone their bet until another day. When he recognizes Lucifer as one of the dealers at the casino a few days later, he decides to call in Mammon’s wager. Azra watches the dice in anticipation and then he smirks, unfazed by the poorly-masked anger that ripples across Lucifer’s expression when he loses.

Once the details of the arrangement are finalized, Azra arrives at the House of Lamentation with his luggage in tow. Lucifer shows him the choice of rooms available and Azra complains about each one; they’re all grungy from years of disuse and neglect. He hoped the brothers would have at least tried to take care of some of the dust and cobwebs first. Azra almost wonders if it was an intentional oversight when Lucifer reminds him - more than once - that if the rooms aren’t to his liking, he’s welcome to leave.

They walk down the hallway, past the kitchen and towards your room. You’re not inside but the door is open, and it catches Azra’s interest. He notices the care that’s gone into the furnishings and upkeep - and the lack of dust is appealing, too. This is the best room he’s seen by far and declares to Lucifer that this room will suit his purposes, ignoring its obvious state of occupancy.

Lucifer rejects the idea immediately and they start arguing. He refuses to displace you from your room, and Azra insists that Lucifer and his brothers should’ve thought of that before he arrived. Neither of them notice that you’re walking towards them and catch the tail-end of their heated discussion about your room being off-limits.

You don’t understand Lucifer’s hostility towards their guest. Your presence in the Devildom is still relatively new, and you don’t have many friends. You don’t want to impose on the demon brothers who have tried to help you adjust to your new life here. The last thing you want to do is make a bad first impression to other important or powerful demons in the Devildom. Besides, it’s only for a month, right?

You startle them both when you offer to switch rooms temporarily, if that would make their guest more comfortable. They stop arguing and look at you in surprise. Lucifer’s mouth twists like he’s bitten into something particularly sour, while Azra tilts his head slightly and stares at you in wonder. He forgot that living with the Avatars of Sin also means living with the Devildom’s prized human exchange student. He’s overheard other demons whisper about your lustrous, tempting soul in the dark corners of his club.

Azra changes his mind suddenly and tells a very relieved Lucifer that he won’t make his gracious co-host abandon your room to him. He smirks and takes his luggage to the closest empty guest room - across the hall from yours - instead. Dealing with the cobwebs is worth the satisfaction of seeing Lucifer’s brow crinkle in frustration before he slams the door shut in his face. Azra sets his luggage aside and takes care of the dust himself while he listens to Lucifer and his brothers arguing down the hall. He rolls his eyes when Mammon’s protests grow louder and Satan’s threats toward him become more violent.

Lucifer tries and fails to reassure them that Azra isn’t completely foolish, and even he won’t risk doing anything to harm you. You’re a guest to the Devildom under Diavolo’s protection, after all. But your soul isn’t all the demon brothers are worried about. Who knows what a scumbag demon like him might do if he had the chance to corner you alone? For all the shady, horrible things the club owner has done in the past, Lucifer doesn’t think Azra is that sort of demon to hurt you. However, he keeps those thoughts to himself - his brothers won’t be convinced otherwise.

The arguing down the hall eventually fades to silence, but Azra’s smirk remains as he continues clearing away the thick layers of dust covering the furniture in his room. The air is stale and musty and he coughs. He rips the dingy bedding away from the mattress and tosses it aside for the trash; he’s grateful he brought a new set of sheets.

When the room is slightly more hospitable, he taps the screen of his D.D.D. and sets it on speaker mode. He only has to wait a few rings before his assistant picks up the call.

“How are Lucifer and his brothers treating you?” Zekhan asks. “I told you not to expect a warm welcome.”

Azra hums. “It was what I expected, but I can deal with them,” he says casually, flicking away cobwebs stuck to the headboard of his bed. “I forgot about the human staying here, but they’re not–” Azra starts to say, but he frowns when Zekhan has the nerve to laugh, “–what the hell is so funny?”

Zekhan doesn’t bother to hide his amusement. “You never mentioned them once while we prepared for you to spend the month there. I wondered when you would remember that little detail.” His laughter trails off with a sigh. “What do you think of them so far?”

Azra thinks back to his brief meeting with you in the hallway. “I’m not sure yet.” You were so eager to compromise for his benefit, but he can’t completely dismiss you as being a total pushover either - you wouldn’t have survived this long in the Devildom if you were.

“I have a docket prepared with the information you requested, but most of it is public knowledge already - articles about the exchange program in the RAD newspaper, that sort of thing. I was able to speak to some of the students and get their first impressions too.” Zekhan pauses briefly and adds quietly, “Their confidential information is going to be more difficult to obtain, and it’ll take some time. Do you still want me to pursue it?”

Azra debated it for a moment and decided it wasn’t worth it. Your human world history and details won’t be relevant to him now, he can simply talk to you instead. “No, don’t bother. Keep track of anything else you hear, and send me what you have already, will you?”

“Very well,” his assistant replied before hanging up the call.

Azra’s D.D.D. pinged moments later with an email containing the information about you Zekhan was able to collect. There wasn’t much there - some general information about you and the other exchange students, impressions from some of the RAD faculty and classmates - nothing valuable or noteworthy. If he wants to learn more about you, the real you, he’ll have to figure that out himself - after he finishes cleaning his room.

Azra is nearly giddy with amusement when the brothers don’t attempt to hide their contempt for his presence in their home. They’re so protective of you and they do a poor job of hiding it. They find countless excuses to invite you to spend time with them anywhere else that’s not your room. When you don’t feel like going with them, they hover around your room instead. They have a bad habit of overstaying their welcome and Azra stifles his laughter when he hears you yell at them to get out so you can do your homework or go to sleep.

The demon brothers are especially bothered by how close his room is to your own. What exactly do they think he’s going to do to you? He’s not stupid. He might be a little curious about you, sure, but since when was curiosity such a bad thing?

In reality, Azra doesn’t have that many opportunities to spend time with you alone or with the other demons hovering like mother hens nearby. His odd work hours means he usually sleeps through breakfast and lunch, and he gets up and prepares to leave for work by the time you return home from RAD.

He’s not used to having a bedroom without an ensuite bath, and it’s one of his main complaints when he has to use the washroom at the end of the hall to shower. He enjoys his privacy and he’s not used to covering up.

One afternoon after having a shower, he's still dripping wet with only a towel hung low around his hips when he heads back to his room. He snarls with annoyance when someone bumps into him, but he realizes that someone is you. You stare at him for a moment, and your eyes widen when you glance down at his bare chest before your eyes snap up to his face. You stammer an apology as your cheeks flush, and by the time you rush back into your room and slam the door, Azra can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face.

Interesting.

It’s a rare occasion when Azra bothers to join you or the demon brothers for dinner. It got tiresome quickly when Satan insisted on reading books of hexes and curses at the table while glancing at him threateningly whenever he turned the page.

How juvenile.

Lucifer doesn’t trust Azra to cook for them - not that Azra is capable of making edible food anyway - so he’s not included in their cooking rotation either. Azra notices that you volunteer to cook more often than the others do. He assumes it’s something you like doing, and since it’s one of the few skills he lacks, he respects you for it.

If you’re on cooking duty for the family, he leaves later for the club than usual so he can spend time with you in the kitchen. Sometimes you’re completely alone with only Beelzebub occasionally trying to sneak snacks before dinner is ready. Azra makes vague offers to help you, but he’s only interested in the opportunity to talk to you. You must sense his apprehension about actually cooking something and you don’t ask him to help, but you try to have friendly conversations with him anyway.

He’s surprised that you use an odd combination of Devildom and human world ingredients, and you’ve customized recipes slightly to make them more palatable for you. It’s an easy way for him to discreetly ask you questions about yourself, and your family and where you come from. You seem happy talking about food and other things that remind you of home.

He’s not used to eating rustic, home-cooked meals. He eats what the chefs at the club prepare for him, or whatever his private chef makes for him at home on his days off. But when you hold out a spoonful of something to try, it’s difficult for him to refuse. The foods you cook aren't heavily spiced, but more often than not, he likes what you cook.

Sometimes he wonders whether you’d like the chance to cook in his kitchen, with his state of the art appliances and using whatever Devildom or human world ingredients you could ever want.

Sentimental thoughts about you start to creep into his mind, and they grow more frequent as he gets to know you. After nearly two weeks of living together, he decides that you’re a baffling combination of shy deference and impulsive confidence. Your dry, witty sense of humor surprises him at times, and you’re brave enough to speak up when the demon brothers cause trouble or make fools of themselves. You don’t go out of your way to spend time with him, probably out of some misconception that you're a nuisance to him (which you aren't). But when he seeks you out - usually before he goes to The Fall - you don’t reject him, either.

The whole point of his wager with Mammon was to learn more about the demon princes that might be useful for blackmail later. Hell, the thought of tormenting Lucifer was almost enough of a reward by itself. Azra refuses to admit that spending time with you is slowly becoming his prize in this arrangement.

When he comes home from the club, it’s usually around the same time you’re getting ready for school. Some mornings you offer him a bashful greeting when you step out of your room in your RAD uniform. He catches a whiff of whatever fragrance you wear, and he breathes in your scent as he watches disappear down the hall. There are some mornings when you’re running late - usually one of the brothers knocks on your door, and Azra catches a brief glimpse of your sleepy eyes and messy hair when you answer in a panic.

He loosens his tie and sits on the edge of his bed and listens for the telltale sounds of you and the demon brothers leaving for RAD. When the front door slams shut, he can finally be alone with his thoughts. More often than not these days, he thinks of you more than anything else. It doesn’t matter what you look like each morning when he passes by your room: whether you’re perfectly dressed or sleepy and rushed, he finds you charming - and he wonders how that’s possible.

There's about ten days left of his month-long visit when Azra prepares to go to the club, but he recalls the demon princes announcing various commitments they have that evening. It’s the first time since he arrived at the House of Lamentation that he is truly alone with you for any significant length of time. He thinks quickly and reaches for his D.D.D. - he might not get this chance again.

Meanwhile, you’re in your room debating whether you should start making dinner for yourself. The brothers are scattered across RAD and you have no idea what time to expect them home. It’s an annoying predicament when you’re not sure whether to cook food for everyone, or just cook for yourself, or maybe you should just order takeout?

Azra knocks on your bedroom door while you deliberate your options, and even though you’re surprised he hasn't left for work yet, you let him inside.

He makes small talk and takes his time browsing the shelves of your room. He notices an interesting mix of Devildom and human world books and movies. He glances at you from the corner of his eye when he feels your eyes on him.

“The demon princes don’t take care of you properly. It’s past dinner time - do they expect you to feed them all when they return?” he asks. He knows it’s not your turn to cook tonight, and he wonders how often they overlook your well-being. Do they make it a habit to inconvenience you with their thoughtlessness? Isn’t that what all of their posturing these past two weeks has been about - doing what they thought was best for their precious human?

He can do better.

He pretends to consider all the options for a moment and then asks, “You haven’t been to The Fall before, have you?”

“No, I’m not really the club-going type. I wasn’t back home, either.” You’ve seen Asmo’s photos of wild dance parties at The Fall; the self-conscious voice in the back of your mind reminds you that you look nothing like any of the demons that attend the famous establishment. You’d stick out like a sore thumb, and you have no interest in making a fool of yourself trying to pretend you belong there.

Azra isn’t easily deterred so he tries to entice you another way. “You might not realize this, but we also have an excellent dining room,” he says. “I would love to treat you to dinner this evening, as a gesture of appreciation for your kindness during my stay here,” he offers. “I can’t leave you alone and unfed in good conscience.”

You're tempted by his generous offer - you imagine their menu is far outside of your usual budget for take-out - and you can’t help but be curious about him and his work. Despite what the others have told her about him, he doesn’t seem that scary. He’s been kind to you, and he doesn’t ask you questions that are rude or too invasive. He seemed genuinely interested in your hobbies and interests, and he tries to inconvenience you as little as possible.

You think it would be rude to reject his offer, but you glance down at your unbuttoned RAD blazer and slightly wrinkled slacks. “I’m not sure I have anything suitable to wear,” you say. It’s a weak excuse and you both know it; you try not to squirm when he chuckles.

He’s not sure where the idea comes from, but he has a brief impulse to escort you to one of his favourite shops and select an outfit for you. He’s curious about what you might pick out for yourself if you didn’t have to worry about the cost. He thinks you would look lovely draped in the dark colours and soft fabrics he prefers, rather than the bland material of your RAD uniform and casual clothes.

He quickly shakes off the impulse and clears his throat. “As my guest, our usual dress code wouldn’t apply to you. Please wear whatever makes you feel most comfortable.” He glances at you over his shoulder before he leaves your room. “My driver is already outside, but take your time. I’ll wait for you in the front hall.”

You’re anxious about going to The Fall, but there was something so warm and genuine about his invitation that you accepted his offer anyway. You put on a simple button-down shirt and change into slightly less-wrinkled pants. You add a spritz of your favourite fragrance and feel refreshed. You examine your reflection in the mirror: you look put-together, but bland and unalluring - you hope he’s not too disappointed by your appearance.

Azra gives you an obvious once-over when you approach him in the foyer, and you smile bashfully when his lips curl into an appreciative smirk. He puts a hand on your back and leads you outside where his car is waiting. You spend most of the drive watching the Devildom pass by in a blur; Azra watches you instead.

When the car pulls up to the club’s entrance, Azra leads you past the bouncer at the door. Instead of turning right where the thrum of heavy bass is loudest, he turns left which leads to the club’s dining area. It feels romantic with its dark wood furniture and candlelight. The large room is filled with semi-private booths and small tables. The linens and dishware look luxurious and expensive; you feel woefully out of place.

He leads you to a private table near the back of the room, but the other patrons notice your arrival with interest. You think you can hear them whispering when you walk past them, and you realize that your boring attire won’t stifle the intrigue of your human heritage or why you’re having dinner with the club’s famous proprietor.

Azra pulls your chair out for you before he takes his seat across from you. He picks up his menu, but he realizes that there’s something wrong. You’re glancing around the room nervously, and he notices that the other guests are doing a poor job hiding their interest in you. He grew so used to your company that he didn’t even consider how other demons would treat you in public. He’s frustrated by his mistake, but he’s determined not to let this ruin your evening together.

Azra knows Zekhan is probably working in his office upstairs. He sends him quick instructions before he stands from the table and comes to your side. “I’ve prepared a table for us in my private offices, if that would make you more comfortable,” he leans down and murmurs close to your ear. You nearly sigh with relief and take his hand when he helps you out of your chair.

He leads you to a small lounge connected to his office on the second floor. It’s soundproofed so the loud club music isn't bothersome. The lounge is drastically different from the rest of the club, and you guess that it’s designed to be comfortable, more like his own home than his business. There’s a record player in the corner, and soft classical music fills the silence. There is a small candle-lit table waiting for you, and Azra suppresses the urge to purr with satisfaction when you look more relaxed now than you did downstairs.

When you're both seated, you hear a small pop. A bottle of amber liquid and two crystal goblets materialize on the table. You’re not familiar with different vintages of Demonus, but based on the ornamental bottle and Azra’s expensive taste, you can’t even imagine how rare this bottle of liquor is.

“No, I couldn’t, really–” you protest with a laugh when he offers to pour you a glass. You explain that Demonus of this quality is wasted on you; he didn’t know that humans are mostly unaffected by the demonic beverage, and you can’t tell if it’s the lighting when his cheeks darken slightly.

He clears his throat and accepts your refusal gracefully. “By all means, order whatever you’d like. I only want you to enjoy yourself.”

There’s a comfortable lull in conversation while you both study the provided menus, and you set yours down on the table with an embarrassed look. When Azra raises an eyebrow questioningly, you explain you're not familiar with the fancy names for Devildom cuisine yet. Normally you ask Beel or one of the others to help you choose which foods would best suit your tastes. You’re embarrassed to ask Azra for help doing that, but he doesn’t mock you. His eyes soften like he’s happy that you can be vulnerable with him.

He offers to order something for both of you to share. He thinks about the meals he watched you cook at the House of Lamentation; he remembers the types of dishes you liked to cook, and how you liked them seasoned. He sends a message to the staff in the kitchen with your order.

Azra sips his Demonus and listens to you talk about your experiences in the Devildom and how it compares to your life in the human world. He’s never been interested in listening to his dates - friends - talk about their mundane lives. Usually he has to feign interest, but he wants to listen to more of your stories and memories; he’s captivated by you.

When you ask him questions about his life, he tells you things he’s never told anyone. He never lets people get close to him, and normally he would never answer such personal questions. He wants to blame his loose tongue on the Demonus, but he’s not sure the reason is that simple. Your delighted laughter encourages him to tell you more and more stories about the demon brothers causing mischief and making fools of themselves.

The door opens unexpectedly and it startles you; he nearly growls at the server that interrupts with the dinner tray.

What the hell is wrong with him?

The entree Azra ordered for you both was served on a single platter, and there’s only one plate and set of cutlery on the tray. He dodges your questioning look, but he picks up a forkful of food and holds it near your mouth expectantly. Azra looks as surprised by the gesture as you feel.

He’s not sure what inspired him suddenly, but he has the urge to feed you. It reminds him of those nights when you offered him samples of your cooking. It seems like you’re both remembering the same thing, because you bite your lip bashfully and accept the food he offers you.

Azra ignores the warmth churning deep in his belly, but his lips curl into a smile when he sees a blush bloom across your face. He’s tried to show off his wealth and power in subtle ways all evening, but he feels most satisfied - and you respond with the most genuine interest - when he does simple things that shows he cares for you.

You’re embarrassed by his rapt attention, but the way he looks at you when he offers you another forkful of food is difficult to refuse. It feels profoundly intimate, and you try not to think too hard about why he’s doing it. Nevertheless, you eat until you start to feel full, and then you protest and wave away the last bit of food he holds out to you.

He looks suspiciously at the amount of food remaining on the plate like he can’t believe you're completely satisfied yet. He hesitates to eat himself until you promise with a laugh that you've eaten enough. His mind swirls with doubtful thoughts: Are human stomachs so small? Do those damn brothers not feed you enough and this is all you're used to eating? Are you trying to be modest for his sake?

He eats a few bites when you stand up and look at some of the art on display in his lounge. He wonders what you think about him and his lavish lifestyle. He assumes you're provided some sort of allowance for necessities, but he wonders how much of that you get to spend on yourself. He recalls your bedroom and the collection of new and used furniture, the borrowed manga and video games on your shelves, and the outdated TV and computer models you use.

He feels impulsive. He imagines filling your closet with Devildom silks and furs, and replacing your scratchy cotton bedspread with something that's silky-soft against your skin. He can fill your shelves with books he thinks you would enjoy, the same Devildom novels he reads on his days off. He realizes he wants to give you things - desperately - and he doesn’t know why.

Time seems to flow differently when he’s with you. He doesn’t know what time it is, but he realizes it must be getting late. His time with you is dwindling, but he feels reluctant to end this evening so soon. He gestures to a small leather sofa where you can both sit more comfortably. Any traces of your anxiety have completely disappeared, and you seem completely relaxed at his side, humming along softly with the soft music coming from the record player.

You’re nearly pressed against his side, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to you before. His hand is resting on the sofa behind you, and you’re almost tucked under his arm. It feels like a victory when you don’t move away. He glances down at the bare skin of your neck, and when he leans down, the faint traces of your fragrance tickles his senses. Something predatory stirs inside him and he can't bring himself to pull away.

His sudden closeness doesn’t scare you exactly, but the growing tension between you makes your skin prickle with nervous anticipation. You can’t help but question his intentions. You doubt someone like him would be genuinely interested in you, so why did he bother doing all this? You remind yourself that you’re so completely different, and there’s no way you can be compatible. He’s so far out of your league: physically, financially, basically every possible way possible. You shouldn't even be friends let alone more than that.

But why does admitting that bother you so much?

You glance at him the same time he raises his head from where he’s been discreetly scenting your neck. You look into his eyes and they seem to reflect the same confused longing you feel.

An unspoken question hangs in the air between you: What are we doing?

Instead you say, “It’s probably getting late - we should go back soon.”

You reach into your pocket for something, but you make a frustrated sound in your throat and stand up. You look around on the floor and scan the tabletop nearby. “Have you seen my D.D.D.?” you ask him.

When your back is turned, he pulls your phone out of his pocket. He slides it onto the sofa beside him. “Oh, here it is. Perhaps it fell out of your pocket earlier?”

You sigh in relief and thank him when he hands it to you. Your eyes widen when the screen flickers to life. What in the world…? You don't recall feeling it vibrate all evening, but according to your notifications, you have dozens of missed personal and group chat messages and several missed phone calls. "It seems like the others have been trying to get in touch with me for a while now. I'm still not sure how I didn't notice earlier."

“That’s unfortunate,” he murmurs with fake sincerity, “but I’m sure they’ll understand once you explain we went out and had dinner together.”

You’re trying to respond to messages as quickly as possible, and you glance at Azra guiltily. “I know you probably have to stay and work tonight, but would it be possible to arrange a ride home for me?”

He stands from the sofa and smooths down his suit jacket. “I would never dream of sending you home on your own,” he replies more forcefully than he intends. When you frown, he explains, “I’ll escort you home personally and then come back to the club. I'm responsible for your safety tonight, and I'll ensure you make it back safely.”

If he requests his driver take a route that has several unnecessary detours that allows him more time with you, that’s his business.

Your D.D.D. interrupts with a new message:

Lucifer: I’m waiting outside for you.

Azra smothers his annoyance, but he makes sure you have all your belongings before he escorts you from the lounge to the main floor. The club is packed now and it’s shockingly loud compared to the tranquil peace of his soundproofed office. He avoids leading you near the cramped dance floor so that you don’t feel anxious like you did earlier. He takes you through a series of employee-only hallways towards a private exit around back. He opens the door for you, and you both see the Avatar of Pride waiting nearby with a stone-faced expression.

You rush forward and apologize profusely for the inconvenience. “I’m not sure how I didn't hear my phone earlier. I’m so sorry I worried you.” You turn around and face Azra who’s watching you and Lucifer with a strange expression on his face. “Thank you again for inviting me to dinner, I had a really nice time. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

Lucifer clears his throat and steps closer. You don’t notice that he positions himself in front of you, blocking you from Azra’s sight. The club owner notices though, and he glares at Lucifer.

“In light of recent developments, your month-long stay with us at the House of Lamentation has been concluded prematurely,” Lucifer says smugly. “You understand, of course,” he adds in a tone that will allow no argument.

You’re confused by the announcement and look at Lucifer worriedly. “Won’t it reflect poorly on us if we don’t honour the bet?” You don’t want to admit that you’re disappointed; you’re not sure you’ll ever see Azra again after this.

Azra answers before Lucifer has a chance to answer you. “I’m satisfied the terms of the bet have been fulfilled. It’s difficult to focus on the intricacies of my business when I spend too much time away from home.” You step out from behind Lucifer and meet Azra’s imploring gaze. “I’ll regret not spending more time at the House of Lamentation, but I promise that I found my visit very rewarding.”

Lucifer’s fist clenches behind you, and normally Azra would feel smug about this little power play with the demon he despises. Instead, all he cares about is the way your eyes brighten when you offer him another one of your kind smiles.

Lucifer ushers you away after you bid Azra goodnight one last time. You walk home together, and you tell him about your evening: it was a simple private dinner, and nothing more. Lucifer is suspicious and looks you over for any traces of harm or injury. He’s relieved that you seem perfectly fine, but he wonders what sort of game Azra was playing with you. However, he keeps these thoughts to himself - you seem tired but in good spirits, and he doesn’t want to ruin whatever enjoyment you had this evening.

You manage to avoid interrogation by the other demon brothers when you arrive home, and you head to your room and get ready for bed. After you're tucked in, you sort through your messages, yawning while you delete the endless notifications you missed earlier.

Your D.D.D. pings unexpectedly.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I hope we can meet again soon.

You hesitate only for a moment before you save Azra’s contact information in your phone. You wish him goodnight and roll onto your side, and you hide your shy smile in your pillow.

#A Roll of the Dice AU #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me azra x reader #azra x reader #obey me oc #obey me demon oc #obey me fanfic #x reader #my oc: azra #gn!reader

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