#obey me mamo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fiction-in-my-blood · 4 years

Text

Obey Me! Brothers W/ Mentally Slow MC HC

~Longer than necessary A/N ahead so, if you don’t care, you don’t need to read it, just sharing stuff about myself to random strangers on the internet lol.~

So... I’m slow. Like, my brain just does not computer things quick enough a majority of the time? I’m not a great conversationalist because of it, I have a pretty bad stammer, I mix up names even though they don’t sound at all the same, and I get too excited when I do know something that when I try to say it its just a jumble of words that don’t make sense and I tell my friends to just forget about it because I know I won’t be able to say the right words lol. Luckily I have great friends and they give me the time to rethink my sentence so I can say what I want to say. Oh, and I daydream to the point I never dream in my sleep haha. So, this is basically an HC for me lol. That being said, I’m pulling from mostly my own experiences here, so I’m sorry if they sound a lil depressy haha.

And I would like to say, if anyone can relate, there’s literally nothing wrong with you!!! (Cannot stress this enough). We just have our fun lil quirks.

~Also, I’m so sorry for missing out on Belphie. I love him somuch but I could not think of a scenario for him. If I do in the future I’ll edit or reupload idk.~

~Oh, and @theshove , I finally posted again ;), although I’m sure it’s not gonna be as spicy as you’d like.~

Warnings: Descriptive explanation of a panic attack in Mammon’s HC, reference to bullying in Satan’s

~~~~~~

Lucifer:

At first, he was secretly pretty frustrated.

He thought it was a confidence issue, he heard that was a common thing in human youth, to not believe in yourself and have anxiety about the way you looked, spoke, sounded.

You would often be having conversations with his brothers, debating a subject that Lucifer took no interest in, and you would be about to put in your input when a stream of nonsense passed your lips.

“Y’know what, nevermind.” Was a frequent phrase that left your lips when you did slip up, sighing to yourself as you thought about how ridiculous you just sounded.

Lucifer would ensure none of the brothers, or Solomon, ever teased you about your mistakes.

Although, it was mortifying everytime you accidentally called him Levi, and vice versa.

It was hard enough when you were still getting to know the brothers, but even on a date with the eldest, Levi just seemed like an easier word to say in the moment. It led to a few upsetting misunderstandings and some pretty severe punches to Lucifer’s pride.

Once you two got closer, you explained you mixed up your words because you used to be practically mute.

You weren’t a particularly extroverted child, nor were you interested in much, so you hardly spoke at all. You never got the practice you needed to familiarise yourself with words. It was Devildom that really brought them out of you.

After you did share that with him, he thrived off hearing your voice, even when it took a solid ten seconds to contemplate what you needed to say, even stretching your mouth muscles before you started just in case you stumbled again.

Of course, you made your mistakes now and again, got stuck on a word, laughing at how ridiculous you sounded saying ‘in’ several times in a row when you were trying to argue over tonight’s dinner, but Lucifer never cracked a joke like you did about yourself.

He smiled, happy that you didn’t let this impact your personality and recovered quickly and, gradually, at snail's pace it felt like at the time, you could hold a conversation, a bright smile on your face when you were able to pull it off.

“Lucifer, I didn’t stutter this time!”

“Well done, MC, shall I give you a reward?”

Mammon:

“Useless human, can’t even talk, huh?”

Trying to act like the big tough guy he played himself out to be didn’t fare well when you first arrived in Devildom, his brothers practically beat him up every other day for it.

The first time you laid your eyes upon a demon and they explained you would be a transfer student, it took you a few minutes of silence to understand what was actually going on.

It wasn’t because this wasn’t an extraordinary situation, you were an avid reader of fantasy novels and had waited for the day to be transported away from your boring, mundane life, but you just couldn’t compute verbal speech.

In potion class, you had to ask the teacher to write down the ingredients and the quantities because you couldn’t picture the words themselves, so you couldn’t understand what the potion was actually meant to do.

“What’re you writing it all down for?”

“It’s easier for me to listen when I can read what they’re saying. I guess it’s because my hearing’s crap?”

But your hearing wasn’t all that bad, it was just easier to explain it that way than explaining how transcriptions help you listen.

Sometimes, in the hallways of RAD, the bustling students and whispering gossiping of you, a human, making a pact with Mammon? Apparently it was hilarious to everyone else.

But it wasn’t what the demons were saying, it was how loud they were saying it.

It was just too many noises at once, you couldn’t decipher the surround-sound mumbling and it stressed you out, made you uncomfortable, and gave you that all too familiar feeling of a panic attack due to the sensory overload.

Mammon realised your discomfort as tears grew in your eyes and your breathing quickened and, for a moment, he was moving to beat up every single devil that ever even mentioned the word ‘human’.

“Ma-Mammon!” Your frail voice and a tug on his sleeve pulled him back to Devildom and he turned back around to you, watching as you clenched your eyes shut, trying to ignore the buzzing that continued to rattle your brain.

“Can you take me some place quiet?”

From then on, you would often spend your lunch breaks in a quiet classroom away from the majority of students. It was a good place for you to wind down, especially, when you two were close enough, Mammon would hug you closely, helping the panic in your heart when you did have a panic attack due to all the noises.

You didn’t have them as much now, the noise cancelling headphones he had bought you brought solace as you walked from classroom to classroom.

In class, he would try his best to act as scribe when you were running behind, but he did a terrible job. His handwriting was abysmal, only now did he appreciate how quickly you had to write to keep up with the lessons.

You appreciate the sentiment all the same, placing a quick kiss on his cheek- you were dating at this point- and explained that he didn’t have to do that for you, you could just get a copy of the teacher’s notes after class.

Now he could never feel more guilty about picking on you when you first got to Devildom.

“Hey, Mamo?”

“Yeah, MC?”

“Thanks for not getting angry at me.”

Leviathan:

You were pretty silent, never really talking unless you were spoken to directly.

Yet, you still had that dumb, normie trap of cute smile on your face when you listened to everyone ranting and raving.

When you did speak, it was quiet, almost a whisper.

Thank Diavolo for the demon’s enhanced hearing because, if they didn’t, they would be constantly asking you to speak up.

It wasn’t because you didn’t like your voice or you thought you were too loud otherwise, it was just because you couldn’t really be bothered to be louder.

You were content with just listening, watching everyone have a vivid conversation about the latest trouble Mammon had gotten into or Satan raving about the last Detective show you needed to watch.

You never had any questions to ask in class, and the ones you did have would usually be asked by another student before you got the chance to even raise your hand. You weren’t a genius, just a good listener.

Levi understood, somewhat. Why would you want to talk to his normie brothers? They had nothing interesting to say.

Most of the time he suspected you just weren’t listening to them.

But, it’s when you were alone together in his room as he told you about the latest anime he was enjoying, he got annoyed.

“Are you even listening to me? I don’t even know why I try. You don’t deserve Henry!”

“I was listening. You were explaining how you think the next season of TSL is going to go. I’ll admit, the Lord of Shadow saving that servant from the Lord of Corruption seems a little far fetched, but it’d be interesting to watch.”

That had possibly been the longest group of sentences he had ever heard you string together at once. And they were so soft, no hint of trepidation from his accusation.

Eyes wide in embarrassment for misreading the situation, and getting so aggressive about it, Leviathan looked away.

“I’m sorry, I know I seem really dismissive all the time. I just enjoy listening to you talk about your passions.”

The bright smile on your face calmed him down, as it usually did, and, every so often, you would make your comments about the shows you know only because of him. He was very good at explaining plot lines. Even when you had never seen the show, you felt like you had.

You would mainly just talk to Levi from then on, getting to the point where you could express your own hobbies without him judging you as a normie and more as a friend.

Well, not a friend, more than that, much more, but a friend would have to do for now.

The first time you strike up a conversation with him, calling his name from down the hallway of the house you’re staying in as he walks with Asmodeus, Mammon and Beelzebub is possibly the greatest day of Levi’s life.

“Lefty.” You accidentally pronounce his name wrong, like you sometimes do with “Bell” and “Ashmo”.

You didn’t have any problems with saying their names normally, but when you were tired, all hopes of communicating like a normal human being went out the window.

Your words were a low mumble, but they were something Levi had learnt to understand fluently from your late night gaming sessions that would usually end in ruin when your tired brain drastically slowed your reflexes.

“I heard it was your 200,000th bicentennial birthday coming up, so I asked one of my friends to commission this for you.”

Only Diavolo knows how you managed to pronounce centennial at this time of night, but you did it, handing him a paper-wrapped, flat square, a light blush dusting both your cheeks.

Asmo made a flirty, teasing comment about how close you two seemed and how, now, Levi was the lucky one.

Mammon got jealous, demanding that he wanted a birthday present, even though his milestone couple centuries had literally been a couple centuries ago.

Beel’s stomach grumbled, but he was a little curious about what you could have possibly gifted Levi, and how many words you just said as loud as they would usually be, which was wildly out of character for you.

“It’s the Lord of Shadow and the servant.” Levi gasped upon seeing the magnificent drawing your friend had made for you, which you insisted on paying for, and never had Levi been so jealous to have a friend like that. A friend with such talent.

“You were right, he did save her.” You smiled, eyes twinkling at the positive reaction Levithan had made.

You had seen the similarities in the characters with you and the demon. The servant was said to have had their voice stolen as a child, long before they and the Lord of Shadow had met. And it was obvious to you the similarities the anime brothers had with the demon brothers, but you wouldn’t dare tell Levi that. You were worried he’d get shy and call you a normie again.

So that statement you made was a form of confession to Levi. Something you hoped he would understand.

“You watched the season without me?! How did you even get the DVD? It’s not even out yet!”

Yeah, no such luck there.

“Levi, you know what isn’t fair?”

“What could possibly be unfair for you in this situation?”

“That you aren’t as good a listener as I am.”

Satan:

You were an avid texter, just like Satan.

Your fingers moved so quickly against the screen of your D.D.D or the keyboard of a computer, it was amazing someone could see them.

And you were smart. On electronics, you could keep up conversations on the latest book you were reading and discuss the detective shows you and he liked to watch together.

It was only when you spoke in person did your conversations so down.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” You cried out after a particularly long and troublesome stutter, mainly annoyed because it was an easy word but all the b’s tied your tongue like a tongue twister. Ironically, you felt like you were blubbering like an idiot.

Your stammer used to be worse, far worse. So bad you couldn’t even tell your parents anything without getting angry at yourself, but you got the speech therapy and learnt to just take it slow when you got eager.

Everytime you see Satan, you want to be able to match his intellect and speed. You felt almost competitive.

But it would hardly ever work out in your favour, your ‘S’s coming out like you were trying to start an old engine and ‘B’s and ‘D’s being switched in for each other like you were a toddler.

You spoke before you thought of what you were going to say, hoping the words would just float out of my mouth like everyone else’s did.

But no. Not for you.

You had to carefully plan each sentence, thinking about every conversation you had so you could make a pre-made answer just so you wouldn’t look like a fool taking so long to speak.

You were ashamed most of the time, bullied for your impediment as a child and even in your teen years by people you told yourself were your friends but really weren’t when they called you teasing nicknames instead of your given one after you had asked them several times to use it.

They were the main reason you still didn’t have the confidence to speak well now.

“Hey, take it easy. We’re not in a rush.”

Satan would always be nice, politely giving you the time you needed to take a breather, calm down, and start over again, still blushing from your last stuttering episode.

“Why don’t you call me an idiot?”

A lot of questions similar to these, the only difference- the name you would be called, passed your lips sometimes, when there was a lull in your time together.

You were used to people making fun, telling you to just shut up already so they didn’t have to hear your stupidity anymore.

“You’re not stupid. I care about what you have to say.”

Satan was always so serious everytime he answered a variation of your question, showing you he really cared.

You blushed, your mind blank and it would take a couple minutes after that initial compliment for you to reboot.

It was true, though.

Satan enjoyed watching your lips move and the sound of your voice as you two discussed who the killer in his detective show could be.

You both always came to the same conclusion before the episode ended.

Because most of your conversations happened through text, he found he missed your tone and expressive face when you got really into a subject.

He didn’t care if you stuttered, it was far better than just watching words flash across a screen, as most of your conversations went, on his D.D.D

Although, he did care that you got so angry with yourself.

Being the Avatar of Wrath, he understood how easy it was to give into frustration and just want to hit something every time you made a mistake, he had done that many times in his younger years, and it wasn’t healthy.

It wasn’t healthy to be ashamed of a mere stumble or get mad at yourself for it, you never learnt that way.

One night, laying in his bed, platonically, you shared your reasoning behind getting so mad everytime you stuttered.

You had seen Satan’s demon-form once before, but never had you seen it arise so quickly and so fiercely.

You had been down all day and he had brought you to his room so you could feel comfortable enough to talk to him, but this fearful man, no, creature before you only put you more on edge.

But he continued to hold you.

He continued to wrap his arms around you from behind, spooning your body, trying his best not to fly out of hell right now and hunt down those who had picked on and teased you for all those years for something you couldn’t even help.

To think the reason you hated something he found so endearing was because some mere humans had made you think your excitement to communicate with people was something wrong?

“I don’t think this exchange program is going to work out.”

“Wh...Why?” You tried your hardest now to sound strong, sighing to yourself when you repeated the letters.

“Because I won’t be able to hold back if I have free access to the human world. What kind of assholes do that?”

“Teenage assholes.”

Asmodeus:

What a cute little airhead.

From the moment he first met you, Asmo loved the clueless looks on your face as you sifted through the information you were being given, seconds behind the punch everyone else could get to.

You were slow, but you were meticulous, combing through every piece of information you could to give the correct response.

You were actually pretty smart because of that fact, studying so hard on everything you did so you weren’t embarrassed by being wrong.

And you weren’t too big with the whole ‘social cues’ thing either, mistaking Satan’s sarcasm for truth and Leviathan’s anger for genuine, relationship-ruining upset, desperately trying to fix the situation so that no one would get hurt.

You were selfless in the strangest of ways, too, opting to go without something you actually, really needed before asking someone for help.

Once, you had tried ordering shower gel off of Akuzon, but, instead, ordered Shaitan Gell, a special ingredient often used by witches to summon demons.

You had wondered why it was so expensive, but thought that maybe the Devildom economy wasn’t doing so well right now.

(It wasn’t your money you were using, so what the hell?)

It was even more confusing when it smelled a little off, but demons had strange tastes. Beelzebub literally ate brains and bat wings on the daily.

When Diavolo showed up in your shower the first time you used the oddly thick, black liquid, you just cocked your head, too weird to be embarrassed. Thinking this was a regular occurance in Devildom, you gave the prince a hearty hello and asked him, if he needed anything, could he please wait outside so you could get dressed first.

The news spread like wildfire, especially when Diavolo randomly vanished from a meeting with Lucifer.

When everyone did find out, as Lucifer was reprimanding you for using such a relic in that way, they teased you endlessly, some offering you their own makes of the potion so you might accidentally summon them in the same way.

Every flirty or sexual remark Asmo made went right over your head, thinking that with every personal question he asked was just asked to make conversation and not genuine interest on his part.

“Do you have a partner?”

“Well, no, I don’t really compete in dance competitions or anything.”

“What positions do you usually go for?”

“I don’t play many sports, but if I had to pick, I’d say a pitcher in baseball. I have a pretty mean throw!”

It actually became a little bewildering how oblivious you were to all of his advances, thinking every time he draped himself over you he was cold and you offered him your jumper.

He took them everytime, so you were starting to run low. He tended to hoard them in his room, savouring the sweet scent of the body wash he had bought for you after the Shaitan incident.

“Asmo, can I get my hoodie back?”

You called through his closed door at some point after returning from school in the dead of winter, shivering in the sweat pants and long sleeved top you already had on.

You were generous, you didn’t think you personally were, but all the brothers knew you would give anyone anything if they asked for it.

That’s why it wasn’t that ridiculous when Asmo had all of your jackets. Hoodies from years ago, sweaters you bought just to treat yourself because they were so soft, and even this jumper you got from your ex-boyfriend in high school, something you meant to give back but never managed to. You forgot every time you went to meet him with that exact intent the reason for seeing him.

It didn’t remind you of him, he barely wore it before you practically stole it, but it did make Asmo’s heart skip a beat at the ‘sweater-paws’ you got from the much-too-long sleeves.

Following a clattering from what sounded like trash cans, followed by a comical shriek of a cat, the door flew open to a slightly disheveled Asmodeus, fabric clutched in his hand as he stood topless before you.

“Oh, sorry, Asmo. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m just so cold.”

You laughed to show you weren’t upset with him as you rubbed your arms, bouncing on the balls of your feets to get your blood moving enough to create some heat.

How could all these devils, avatars of the seven deadly sins, not have heating?

“Let me warm you up, MC!”

Without even stopping to hear your answer, but he knew you’d say yes, no matter what, Asmo pulled you in by the wrist, immediately wrapping his bare arms around you the moment the door was closed.

He was warm and you were comfortable with him, he showed you curiosity and care, so you eased into that embrace, thinking it a friendly gesture as a thank you for using your clothes all the time.

When you felt a slight nibble on your ear, you started to freak out a little.

You stuttered out an inquiry as to what he was doing, shyly pushing away as he drew back with his flirtatious smirk.

“I’ve made it so obvious for so long, MC. I really like you.”

Asmo cooed back, prodding your puffed out cheek with the tip of his tongue as you tilted your head to the side the same way you did every time someone told you something new.

Knowing you would be taking a moment to compute the information, Asmo used this chance to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“I really like you too, Asmo.”

The realisation came pretty suddenly.

You had never put much thought into it.

Sure, he was the Avatar of Lust, he could just be saying this so he could express his temporary desires, but that was how you felt. You weren’t one for holding back, you were always scared of forgetting the topics of your thoughts if you didn’t say them aloud, so you just went for it.

Beelzebub:

Does this person even have bones?!

Like, seriously, your tripping over your feet like they’re not even attached to your body.

Rolling your ankle, walking off in directions that definitely don’t lead to where you intend on going, skipping right passed the class you’re meant to be attending.

The amount of times you’ve gotten lost in both the House of Lamentation and RAD is honestly worrying.

Your sense of direction? What even is a map because it seems like you’ve never even heard of the concept of signs or specific routes you need to take to get to your bedroom.

To help with your impossibly slow way of getting a lay of the land in your new dorm, you would often take midnight strolls.

Often getting lost, which is how you found Belphegor up in the attic, even when you had stayed on the same floor.

That’s how you and Beel got so close.

Because of the delectable scents coming from the kitchen, you would often find him having his late night snacks.

He would invite you to stay, at first only because Lucifer had instructed him to walk you back to your room every time he found you aimlessly wandering the house late at night.

“Is your ankle okay?” He would ask through a mouthful of food, but somehow you were still able to understand him.

Blushing, you looked down as your injury that was caused earlier in the day. You had stepped weird on the side of your foot- something that would usually happen and something you would usually be able to walk away from- but this time it was on the tall spiral stairs of the school you were still getting to know, sending you tumbling down flights and flights of steps.

It was a wonder you were human, because even Solomon was shocked you survived that.

“Y-Yeah, just a little red,” was an understatement.

You’re ankle killed. It was only a little swollen thanks to the spell your sorcerer friend used on you, but that didn’t help the sprain of your tendons. It was slightly bruised, covered by your loosest, most comfortable socks.

“Are you embarrassed?” Beel pointed out your bashful blush and you looked back up. He had seen your obvious hobble as you made your way to his side, but didn’t want to mention it in case you were feeling fragile about the subject.

“It just gives me flashbacks, is all.”

Oh?

Memories from MC’s past?

Yes, Beel would very much like to hear about that.

Not to tease or bribe you with, he was genuinely curious about your little human life. Not that you could tell, but he had never been so curious about another being like that.

“Oh, god, well, I guess I trust you.” You joked, blushing harder as you laughed about the memory that plagues your thoughts.

One time, in high school, you were walking out of the cantine when you tripped over literally nothing, throwing your bottle of water across the school yard like you needed to save it from your fall. It landed in the middle of a group of older students.

The amount of laughs you got from that. The teacher that came up to you to ask if you were okay. The cut that occured on your knee.

(Yes, this is a personal story. Yes, I have ptsd every time I pick up a plastic bottle of water)

Oh, it was like you were reliving the horror right there and then.

“It was mortifying! My friends still bring it up. To. this. day.” You sulk, resting your forehead on the table to hide the deep red on your face.

“Did it hurt?” The blunt question came as a shock, that’s for sure, and you no longer felt unbearably hot when you looked up to see him. There was little look of amusement except for a kind-hearted smile.

“W-Well, not as much as this other time...”

You found yourself telling him all of your most embarrassing tales, seeking for that one story that would make him laugh the way everyone else would laugh at you.

He didn’t. At all. It was actually a little worrying that he found none of your stories funny.

Truthfully, he did find the want to chuckle at a few of them, but he didn’t want to betray your trust by laughing at such ‘precious’ memories for you.

#this has been in my drafts for far too long #I have 20 other wips #why do i do this to myself?#I so wanna write but I have like four assignments due and I have NOT started any of them TT #obey me!#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me mamo #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me fluff

140 notes · View notes

iifevils · 3 years

Text

thoughts on the obm boys >:T

#i actually dont self ship romantically #mamo n levi gets a kiss doe 🙄#also barb reminds me of my mom #LMAOOO #take care of me please im begging 🤞🏽🙁#can u tell im aro LOL #obey me #.rambles #i dont hate dia he’s just kinda there

34 notes · View notes

not-your-damsel · 3 years

Text

Movie night with my two favorite men! 🧡 🤍

Beel, you’re such a cutie pie, I hate it 😩

So gorgeous, omg staaahp!! 🖐🏽😫😫😫🧡

#obey me #mammon #beelzebub #om! mammon #om! beelzebub #obey me!#om! beel #om! mamo

13 notes · View notes

obeymefanatic · 3 years

Text

Asdkgndidkt that Levi drama cd of him and Mammon bonding and Mammon as a maid lmaoooo I love Mammon 🥺💖💖💖 god knows why he went through with it but that in itself is so funny and good of him ahdsbUBsbsbSHSBDB

#his fuckin introduction---i was howlin #df is mamo mamo mamoo 😭😭💖💖 u adorable pisashit #obey me! mammon #mammon #obey me!#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#shall we date? obey me!

24 notes · View notes

momokotuharumaki · 2 years

Text

Yay, Mamo cuddles! I'm going to sleep on Mamo!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #mammon x rei #mamo x rei #my sweet mamo #mamorei #mammon x mc #obey me mammon #mammon #obey me daily chat

70 notes · View notes

solomiracle · 10 months

Text

brothers as video game bosses

lucifer

constant regen fucker.

THE DAMN WHIP. if you get hit you stagger and will get a blindness debuff. if it loops around you, you gotta mash an escape pop-up because he disables all of your attacks and abilities

gets immensely stronger at half health. probably will just one-shot you or something idk

mammon

you are never safe from the crows. he will send them at you at every possible moment. death by a thousands cuts caws

not only will he steal your items (both ones you’re holding and not holding), he will make them more powerful and then use them against you

levi

SUMMONER FUCKER

he starts out with some sea creatures but very quickly switches to summoning his armies and straight up dropping boats onto you

lotan covers the entire dungeon. he will tear through your shield(s) and will just one-shot your HP

satan

the ‘taking more damage makes them stronger’ mechanic

he is “calm” at first, watching you like a predator from certain areas of the map before striking and going back to watching. as he takes more damage, he eventually turns into a shrieking yelling monster

at around 25% of hp he becomes BALLISTIC and you just gotta mash your keyboard/buttons/etc a lot until he dies

asmo

poison damage poison damage poison damage poison damage poison damage poison damage poison damage poi

sends out things that’ll “charm” you and force you to come closer to him, significantly dropping all of your attack power while he grows stronger

beel

stupidest and evilest shield ever. combined with his 8 billion HP

be QUICK with your consumables because he will take them and eat them. won’t even get the buff half of the time (and if he eats all of them he’ll get upset when ur out and then throw a tantrum enter a berserker mode)

belphie

sleep/drowsy/stagger/etc debuff fucker

his dungeon gives you some woozy debuff, so you’ll be tearing through a couple of fake minions/copies of himself while he watches or tries to go back to sleep

stars... will summon several ones directly at your skull

#SORRY I COULDNT THINK OF MUCH FOR LUCI MAMO ASMO AND BEEL #and wow i really just made belphie some grouchy cow version of susabi #lolzies #from me #brothers #imagines #obey me imagines

8 notes · View notes

kitsune-bi · 4 years

Text

Maaaaammoooooonnnnn?

Satan’s UR devilgram gave us this little gem.

#f in the chat for Mamo #his voice goes so low #really hits different and short circuits my brain #lucifer #mammon #satan #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me!#obey me #obey me mammon

108 notes · View notes

salem-photoshops · 4 years

Text

Asmo @ mc

#obey me! shall we date?#shall we date?#obey me!#obey me photoshop #obey me! asmodeus #obey me! asmo #obey me! mammon #obey me! mamo #obey me! solomon

107 notes · View notes

lunarmochi · 4 years

Text

*ungodly shrieking*

#obey me #shall we date #obey me mammon #mamo-chan #mammon #i love him #tsun tsun

57 notes · View notes

fiction-in-my-blood · 3 years

Text

Holiday Spirit (ObeyMe! Fic)

I’m feeling in a christmasy mood for the first time in, well, years, and feel like we all need a bit of chaotic joy at the moment ^.^ (I may have had a few, maybe more than a few, whiskey and cokes so this may not be as good as I think it is haha (￣▽￣)" )

Warnings: None, this is just some brother fluff/existence fic.

~~~~~~

It was hard to tell the changing in seasons in Devildom, mainly because there were no seasons, but the flakes of ash that fell from the sky every now and again gave MC an idea of what time of year it was. In recent years, it hadn’t even snowed where they lived on Earth, so this was the next best thing. But, even as that specific spirit blossomed within them, no one in Devildom seemed to take notice of the calendar, even if it wasn’t the same as MC was used to.

Luckily, however, MC still had their music thanks to their trusty DDD. Whether they were getting ready for school, doing their chores in the kitchen, or wondering the streets with one of the demon brothers, cheerful- and some a little depressing- tunes were playing through headphones or speakers. The brothers didn’t take much notice of it, their human was already a little... weird, but they were their human and they didn’t actually know how regular humans acted. Solomon wasn’t much of an example, he was as devilish as any of them at some points.

But, it was when MC started putting up strange ropes of sparkling rags and paper chains in the hallways did they started to really wonder if everything was okay. It was too late before they realised all the white and red trinkets that started to litter surfaces in the living room and dining hall.

“Hey, MC, whatcha up to?” Mammon approached accusingly, frowning his brows at his human, stood on the tallest ladder the House of Lamentation’s attic had. Slightly spooked by the sudden announcement, seeing as their ears had been plugged by headphones once again, MC almost toppled right off. Well, by almost, I mean they did. Fortunately, Beel had been observing the affair from a different angle.

“Oh! Thanks, Beel! I didn’t want to be in a cast for Christmas!”

The second that word, or, more precisely, the first half of that word, was uttered, the surrounding demons froze up, sending MC tumbling to the floor as even Beelzebub jumped. Groaning, rubbing their bruised butt and looking up at the duo of curious demons, MC couldn’t understand why they would react in such away. It didn’t take long for Mammon to provide them with an answer.

“MC! Are you stupid? You can’t say that word here! Diavolo will hear you!!” Mammon, almost three metres from where he had last been seen, yelled loud enough for any other avatars to come investigating.

“What’s going on here?” Asmodeus wiggled his brows at MC, now on their knees in an attempt to stand back up, and Beel hurrying to help them back up after dropping them.

“They said the word!” Mammon whispered, pointing an accusing finger as MC quietly thanked the mass of muscle and kindness.

“What word?” Asmo pulled a confused, and slightly exhausted, expression as he followed Mammon’s gesture.

“I just said Christmas and they both f-.” MC couldn’t even finish their sentence before Asmo was clapping his hand over their face.

“Love, I wouldn’t say that! Diavolo wouldn’t exactly take kindly to it.” Asmo, shockingly, looked stressed by the phrase as he ensured MC ould keep their mouth shut before he let them go.

“I don’t see how Chri-.”

“Oh I’d love to see how this turns out.” A new voice spoke up from behind the quartet, everyone turning to see Satan with a mirthful smirk on his face, hand on his hip as his one shulder held up his jacket. He had one book in hand, surely something about the latest potion MC had told him about. This one was from Earth, nothing magical to it but the taste. It was eggnog, and Satan was sure he had heard the term before from many years ago, sure he could make the best concoction MC had ever tasted. He was holding a recipe book.

“Satan, would you please explain to them was Chris-.” And with that, MC finally understood why they were prohibited from saying that one word.

“OoOOhhhhHHhh, you think I’m saying Christ.” Everyone, excluding MC and Satan, went into a frenzy at their true pronunciation of the name. It didn’t calm down until a booming voice instructed everyone to stop.

Turning around, the five in the hallway turned to see two very tall, and one a little shorter, statues of men. Lucifer, Diavolo, and Barbatos at his side.

“What is the meaning of this racket?” Lucifer sneered, trying his best to kee his composure in front of the prince. Mammon was visibly sweating, Beelzebub so very hungry from the sudden franticness of the situation, and Asmo trying his very best not to seem affected by the word. He didn’t like losing his cool, but this was a situation he did not expect to find himself in. MC, their MC, saying that name- in their house?! He never imagined it.

“Ah, MC, I see you standing putting up your decorations! Doesn’t the place look cheery.” Diavolo smiled up at the piece of tinsel hanging from the rafters, one end swinging back and forth, waiting to be taped up. “Barbatos, you should help them. We can’t have MC falling and hurting themself.”

“Wait! You let this happen?!” Mammon awed at the nerve of the prince, looking up at what must be some sort of religious hanging. He didn’t really remember what humans did for God, but he was sure this must be new.

“Why not? MC explained to me the holiday doesn’t mean the same thing for all humans, some don’t even associate it with Christ, so what’s the harm?” Although his tone faltered on the certain word, Diavolo seemed as happy as ever to accomodate the human’s traditions. It may have been because Christmas was usually celebrated for Christ’s death, but lets just let that slide for now...

With that, MC had a lot of explaining to do. At first, they used the time to rope the brothers into helping them put up the decorations. With a lot more hands, and on Beelzebub’s shoulders, the halls of the dorm were decked much quicker than they would have if MC had tried on their own.

“So... You use Chr-... Ma-... The holiday to connect with your friends and family?” Mammon, not being able to say any part of the word without a shiver running up his back, trully tried to understand the meaning behind Christmas.

“That’s what it used to be about. Although, in recent years it mainly been about being with my friends. I don’t have a lot of family to celebrate with nowadays. But, for others, its mainly about presents and food. Oh, and not to mention the songs.” Not wanting to dampen the mood with their everyday life, MC started to list off all the joys of Christmas they remembered. Their mouth started to water at the memories of roast dinners and yorkshire puddings. The familiar popping of Christmas crackers echoed somewhere in the background of chattering as the brothers discussed their favourite parts of what the holiday sounds like. MC laughed remembering the static those flimsy paper hats would cause with your hair, making it stand up like a crazed scientist.

“Oh, and snow’s the best part. My friends and I used to go to a hill near our home and sledge down it. I almost broke my arm once when I crashed into a tree!” Nothing could help the cute giggle that left MC’s mouth as they remembered those fond times.

“Yeah yeah, enough about the cold, tell me more about these presents.” Mammon pushed through, cutting off one of the brothers, he didn’t take note who, who was about to ask for more stories of MC’s past. This didn’t put him in a very good light in any of the men’s eyes. MC merely laughed, a lighthearted affair that quickly turned everyone’s attention back to them.

“When you’re a kid, you usually make a list to send to Santa, but he’ll only give you want if you’re good. If not, you get coal. Or Krampus.” It was MC who shivered at the name this time, nightmare horro stories their mother used to tell them as a kid imprinting a fear in them that would last a life time.

“Kr-Krampus?” Levi, who had joined the group as they passed his room mid decorating, stuttered out in anticipation. He knew about christmas was anime, but nothing about a scary version of Santa.

“Legend has it, he kidnaps or punished naughty children by stuffing them in his sack, taking them to his lair, and eating them. Sure got me to behave when I was a kid.” MC laughed, although the nightmares they had were as real as the demons in front of them were.

“Anyway, come on, I’ll show you guys how to make Christmas cake!” MC jumped, wanting everyone to learn the joys of Christmas they had waited so many years to enjoy again.

“Now?? But you said its two months away??” Satan awed at the odd timing, looking down at thenotes he had jotted down in his recipe book. Not that he let anyone else see them.

“You have to let the brandy ferment to get the best taste! Come on, I’m gonna need the help!” And with that, the student council, with a sleeping Belphegor slung over Beelzebub’s shoulder, headed to the kitchen.

44 notes · View notes

tentamissilebrat · 2 years

Text

I love you, I just don't trust you

.....Sooooooo @house-of-laminations, uh, you mentioned I should send you a link when I have some writing up but I haven't finished any of the stories I have for Obey Me. I will post them, though, to this account when I finally, uh, get the courage to finish them, I guess. Probably to an Ao3 too. But just in case you wanted a sample of some of my writing? I went kind of ham on this so, uh…

Content: Poly!MC with the brothers, Solomon, and Lord Diavolo (Although I guess you can read everything outside of Lord Diavolo as platonic, but generally I write and think of this MC as poly), MC is nonbinary, MC has been given an honesty potion and trust issues are revealed with Diavolo.

Warnings: Reader/MC under the influence, mentions of previous and somewhat current drug use, panic attacks, despair, and lots of ANGST. If you like fluff, there's a ton of it with the brothers in the beginning but once it gets to Diavolo, it's all downhill. There’s a little peak of spice but I promise it’s half a teaspoon of it.

Sidenote: I uh, due to personal reasons, I have a hard time saying the boys names out loud, so I either used their in-game nicknames or made up some of my own. So like Levi, Beel, Belphie, and Asmo all have their usual nicknames but Mammon is now almost always "Mamo" (Not sure if that's his canon nickname or not anymore) and Satan is "Sati" (Saw-tee) and Lucifer is "Luce" (Lu-say). The reason the MC (technically my MC) of this fic uses them is because they have a "rule" (it's not a real rule but the brothers act like it) where MC only gives nicknames to those they have a pact with. It's not true! But it's funny to go along with it, so my MC does. Hope that clears anything up!

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You have learned quite a few things tonight. For one, you know how honesty potions taste like and, honestly, they taste like getting high. You feel like you're swimming in fog, your attention slipping and sliding off of everything as you sink below misty gray only to resurface back up again a second later. The boys hover you as you bob along in the floating sea, hands shaking you gently and fingers running through your short curls. Someone (maybe Sati?) holds your face between his hands and starts asking you the mundane questions: "Do you know who you are?", "How are you feeling?", "How many fingers am I holding up?", "Do you want us to kill Paimon for you? We'd really like to."

You state your name but giggle as you tell them you're the human exchange student, because it seems so funny to tell them who you are. You giggle some more and say, "I feel great! Never better! I must have taken sooooo much though! I can't tell what this is! Is it weed? Or Morphine? Is this what mushrooms feels like?"

You squint when he holds up some fingers but you laugh and say, "Two! For peace!"

But at the last question, you frown and shake your head, "No, no killing please." You're not even sure why they'd kill him, he's just that nice demon boy who gave you the pretty green and pink drink that made you feel this nice! They must not like him and you repeat again that they can't kill him.

Everyone settles around you for a while after that. They ask you who your favorite brother is (they all become annoyed when you answer you don't have one, but are somewhat mollified when you add that you love them all), Mamo asks you if he's secretly your favorite (you repeat you don't have favorites, but tell me he is special because he's your first. Luce has to put an end to the favorite questions after that train wreck of a six way argument, giving you a side eye when you sloppily encourage the chaos), and finally, all the boys start picking strange, silly questions to ask you. Your favorite human, Devildom, and Celestial foods? Your favorite color and nail polish design? Your favorite place to go in the human world and the Devildom? And so much more, under that strange, little vein. You laugh and laugh because they could have just asked you before all of this. Truthfully, you do feel a little more....open to answering some of them and the giddiness is only made better when they accept your answers, when they tease you but ultimately accept those quirky things about you. You can tell the distance you put in between yourself and every single person you talk to melts away, the fear of rejection or humiliation eases in you, and you feel amazing,

You feel like you're bouncing on clouds and it makes you babble, carelessly spilling out anything and everything that pops into your head; some of it shooting out like fireworks, loud bursts that ring out in the middle of the common room. Mamo and Asmo laugh and goad you into some sillier questions but they get curbed by the all seeing eye of their older brother, who gives off quite the mean glare from over your shoulder. You answer Levi's every question about animes you like, manga you read, and manhwa you have on your list. None of the brothers seem to understand why he asks you such normal questions, but you understand. Levi wants to know your real thoughts on it all and to see if he's been caught in some of the lies you tell other people. You feel even more giggly when he realizes you've always been truthful to him, you've always been good to him. Sati and Belphie try to get you to say something bad about Luce, but after your sticky sweet gushing about how much you love him and the Anti-Luce league for five solid minutes, all three boys beg you to stop, blushing hotly and wildly as the others all laugh. Beel asks you normal things, things he would if you were sober, and you kiss his cheek in a fit of love, which means you're kissing a whole bunch of dumb, demon boy cheeks after that.

Purgatory Hall gets a few texts on the situation and while Asmo is left in charge of your phone, he does ask you a few of the questions from the four of them (Raphael is there too and, shockingly, is worried about you. Asmo down right cackles as he sends your surprise at his concern and Raphael straight up tries to call your phone). Luke and Simeon are just worried---along with Raphael---but Solomon gets in a cheeky "Am I your favorite human?" which is answered with a video Asmo took of you saying "I suppose someone ought to be and I guess it should be you".

You were leaning heavily on Beel as you said it and even he can't stop his own laughter as the room erupts with it. Despite that, Solomon apparently saved the video and considers it a victory.

It's a little after this that Barbados and Lord Diavolo come over, whom you greet with a few over eager waves of hello. They are their usual polite smiles and mundane questions themselves, but by that time in the night (day? afternoon?) that they've come over to check on you, your high is starting to reach a particular phase for you: the time distortion. Five minutes fly by in what feels like several seconds and three minutes feels like fifteen in another instant. Sometimes you take big, shaky breaths until someone always reaches for your hand to grab it, to pull you back to reality. Soon, big shaky breaths turn into someone having to walk you through calming your breathing every minute or so. You smile and tell them you’re fine, but your heart beats wildly in the drop of a second and you babble because your anxiety has entered the high.

You register that everyone needs to go or something for a few minutes (you keep asking and they try and tell you, soft and slow, that they need to find a way to stop the honesty potion, but you keep slipping and they can see it in your eyes, when they lose you to the foggy waves) and all you register is everyone's concern. Everyone decides you can't be left alone and you agree, but being that honest doesn't pull a giggle out of you. You feel uncomfortable now, the fog running through your mind is less like a fun romp and much more frightening and malevolent now; dark shapes lurking between the gray waves. The questions become simpler, more humdrum again. It robs you of all the giggles but you're afraid to tip over now, because you don't know how long you'll dive down into the waves before you can resurface.

You blink and look around and see only Lord Diavolo there, sitting next to you on the couch, holding your hand and smiling at you. It looks a little sad so you bring your free hand up to cup his face. It's a little clumsier than normal so it looks like you're pawing at him, something that brings a little more light to his smile as he presses his face into that hand, holding his hand over yours. You purr and marvel at the heat.

"I love that," you breathe and lean in, hoping you can catch the scent of cinnamon and smoke.

His eyes burn when he looks at you, "What do you love?"

"Your warmth and your heat," you say simply but you feel your mouth running away from you as you continue, "the smell of you, the way you spin me around when you hug me, the way you encourage me to challenge you at every game, they way you never let me win so when I do win it feels like a real victory, when you hold me in the dark of your room and tell me---"

His mouth is searing hot and your tongue slips in to feel his teeth, running the tip along the edges of his not-so-hidden fangs. He gets you to stop the same way he always does, by breaking the kiss off only to start kissing you anew. He worries about your lips and tongue on his teeth, worries he'll cut you, and you wish you could tell him right now that you hope so. Honestly, all the boys are like this and it frustrates you; why do they even have claws, teeth, and tails if they won't use them on you? You wanted them to treat you better when you all first met and now, years into loving them, you wish they would be a little more rough with you again.

When Lord Diavolo pulls away once more (and you chase after one last peck before settling heavily into the couch) you give a slurred reply of "I rreeeeaaaaalllly loooooove those kisses~!"

He laughs but it trickles into something painful and he squeezes your hand, "Forgive me, I...I definitely shouldn't have done that while you're like this."

"I don't mind kissing when I'm like this," you say, because your heart is hammering all of a sudden because you messed up, didn't you? Now he feels bad because you never had this talk with him. You've talked to the boys about this and even Solomon, but you never said to Lord Diavolo that he can do this. You like kissing when you're drunk or high, but only with the people you're dating. You don't regret kissing when you…feel comfortable with the person.

"I like it actually," you whisper, embarrassed but suddenly worried, frantic, and the fog lifts a little as the panic spreads, "I do, I promise, please don't---"

Lord Diavolo rubs the back of your hand, shushing you gently. He leans over to kiss the middle of your forehead. You close your eyes and breathe in; you don't smell the cinnamon, but there's something like incense in his smell along with the smoke. You breathe in again and it’s familiar enough to help you dip back down, the fog surrounding you once again.

“It's okay, you're okay," he coos, taking your other hand and giving both of your hands another squeeze, "Just let me know when I make you uncomfortable."

And you know what you want to say, Of course! You never need to worry about that! And you know you would have said that if you were sober because you have, you have said something to that exact concern during one of these talks. You would have said that because you mean what you say, mostly, and you don't really feel guilty (mostly) when you tell him something like that because you're not lying---mostly.

But your mouth moves beyond you and you, instead, say, "I can't always do that."

His face falls and so does your stomach. You pull away to slap your hands over your mouth and the fog is gone, gone, gone but the sluggishness is still trapped in your bones so when you try to get up, you just fall back down. You almost try again but Lord Diavolo's hands are on your arms and you feel the panic surging.

He calls your name but you shake your head and you can hear the strain of your harsh breathing through your nose. He calls your name again, more commanding, and you look at him and he doesn't look like the Lord Diavolo you know. He doesn't even look like the man you nicknamed "Dia" at the amusement park. No, he looks just as frantic, just as hurt, as you are. More of the fog is cut down but you can feel it now, the compulsion to say more, to keep going and going and going---

"You lie," you say and you can't move your hands, you can't bite your lips, you can't stop this, "You lie or you don't tell me things and then it's hard for me to know that you care, that you want me."

Your breathing is scraping at your throat and you feel heat behind your eyes. His expression is cracking, bursting at the seams, and it's the saddest you've ever seen him. You can't stop and he can't stop you.

"You replaced me," and your voice breaks as tears start running down your cheeks. He flinches and you give another cry as you say, "You knew I would die if I saw Belphie so the me from this timeline was replaced. I wonder, so often, if you'll have me replaced by another version of me."

He squeezes your arms tight, "I would never replace you."

"But you did," you sob and then you sob harder when he stays silent, when he says nothing. His expression and the truth of his silence hangs between the both of you. Still, the compulsion isn't satisfied.

"Y-you didn't t-t-tell me...about--" Your voice is trying to push through as you cry, the feeling of tears running tracks all the way down to your chin and your neck, and you struggle to breathe, struggle to find anything past this ripping, tearing feeling in your chest, "About my powers! You-you d-d-d-didn't tell me all p-p-pain I was causing! And-and then Luce almost---" And then there's more sobbing, more hard and loud cries as you remember holding the Night Daggar above the two of you. Luce, with an expression of pure love and acceptance, but his eyes lacked the history between you two. He barely knew you but still loved you and was willing to die. And for what? So that the pacts he and his brother's made with you could be ripped to shreds? Those very same pacts you almost died for? The pacts that one version of you did die for.

You know what a bad trip is and you know what it's like to have a panic attack while in the middle of a high; this is a thousand times worse. You gasp and choke and cry, Lord Diavolo still trying to hold you but he looks even more miserable, eyes wide and with despair even more inconsolable than the wailing mess that you've become. You want to run, you want to escape but you can't stop---you just can't stop---

"W-w-when you t-...told me...t-told me you loved me," and you wish someone would stop this, would come in and stop this, "I...I wanted to believe you, I want to believe you."

His hands reach up to cup yours and he brings you closer, "I love you. Please, please, believe me when I tell you I love you. I love and I---I had to. I'm sorry but I couldn't---I didn't know how to tell you and I didn't want you and Lucifer to worry and I---"

You want to soak in these words because he's giving you an out. Blame me, he's telling you, blame it all on me. I did this, let me take responsibility. I won't ever do this again. But the compulsion cuts through and your words reveal your deepest thoughts.

"You didn't trust what I would do…” He freezes, his hands shake as they let go of your face, taking your forearms again, and you look at him. You take in the fear in his golden eyes, the trembling of his mouth, the pale of his complexion washing him out, and you feel the last of the fog leave you for one, heart stopping second. You know. You see it now and you can hear the rush of feet coming towards you, but you focus on the truth written plain on his face.

“You don’t trust me…do you?" your voice comes out in a whisper, in a breathless and detached calm. He let's go of you and pulls back like you hit him. You watch his features contort from the pain of your words but you can feel your own pain sinking in when he doesn't deny it. He doesn't even fight it. He looks at you, as though on the verge of his own tears, and tries to hold you again with those shaky hands, but the full realization that after everything you've done, everything you have put into this program and the work you’ve exhausted yourself over in trying to meet his ridiculous expectations. All of that, all of that suffering, and he doesn't even trust you.

Your wailing alerts everyone and when the boys and Barbados finally appear, that's how they find the two of you. You are screaming and clutching at your chest, wailing and crying because the compulsion makes you honest and, honestly, the level of pain you're in feels like you’re dying. Lord Diavolo is trying to hold you, trying to stop your fingers from clawing at your skin, but you scream and cry harder, and he looks like a man on the brink of devastation. Mamo and Sati pull you away, hold you as you grip their clothes, balling and gasping as the fog comes over but only makes you feel like you're falling into nothingness. Asmo and Levi are running around for things to get you while Beel holds Belphie back, who seethes and rages and looks ready to jump Lord Diavolo. Luce tries to calm his dearest friend down while trying to keep Belphie's attention and anger on himself instead, all while your crying causes him visible pain. Barbados attends to his lord and Lord Diavolo says nothing, to any of this, just sinks his face into his hands as you continue to cry and cry and cry.

#shall we date #shall we date: obey me #obey me #obey me swd #Obey Me MC #God this is just a mess but like yeah this is how I write #Oh man this is very over dramatic but like #If you've even been high #Sidenote kids don't do drugs until you're of age and then be very careful drugs are a lot okay like #Any time I've been high my emotions run rampant so I was like #Gosh wouldn't it be fun to be high and reveal how much you don't rust the person you love?#Lord Diavolo just being like #'I'm so secure in all my relationships now! :D'#This fic happens #'Nevermind! My life is awful and I hate it here :DDDDDD'#Wait till you guys read other fics I have in store #Flesh blobs and spitting up whole and alive frogs #It's either emotional stew or body horror with me #and Then it's always got a weird level of monster fuckery

112 notes · View notes