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luxthestrange · 2 years

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Mc's Flirting with The Demon Prince

This image is inspired by this past quote! For All you Diavolo Lovers

Inside the demon lord's castle, Inside Diavolo Office LilD2 comes in with another box, Diavolo feels his eyes light up as the small box with a note attached to it "For My Sunshine in Hell-Anonymus"...He knows it is his dear 'friend' mc sending him trinkets they found in their adventures within the Devildom or Human world, His Favorite so far right now: Some Rock they told him they found pretty, A picture of them in a photo booth, a playlist with human world love music, a zombie iguana.

He took the box from the little demon who winks at him with the last comment "From you know who~" as he left, only for Barbatos to enter as he left, patting the little demon as he left the office, Barbatos looks at Diavolo who paperwork is long forgotten now as he shakes a mysterious box and goes to open it...

Dia: Oh my!*Grabs the item and sets it on his head*Another one for the one that got wet and broken!*gleams happily*

Barb: Is that another gift from them? My lord isn't it time you talked to them about their courting towards you?*Smiles at him but closes his eyes, Doesn't want to be blinded by Diavolo's gleam*

Dia:...I did...actually*Remember's back last week*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~FLASHBACK~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Diavolo finishes his work late at night, ready to head to his bedroom...only to be surprised by a trail of rose petals and candles leading him a path to his...bedroom door? Out of curiosity opens it...the room is dimly lighted, and the curtains are out of the way to allow the moon to light the room along with the candles on the furniture...as his eyes land on his bed...There on his sleeping robe, Which fits too large for your small frame...at least covering the most important parts is you...laying on your side looking at him, toying with a petal in your fingers...Well this was a pleasant surprise

Dia:...Mc...are...are you perhaps flirting with me? Or is this a human custom? I*Hopeful that it's flirting*🥺😳

Mc: what makes you think I’m flirting with you?

Dia: why is my bed surrounded with rose petals and why are you in my robe

Mc: don’t change the subject*Mc posing for him*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~END FLASHBACK~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dia: After that...they proceeded to lecture me about going to bed so late and they made me lay on my bed next to them, with my head on their chest in my bed as they told me "Shut Up and go to bed"...I'm confused*Sadden look*

Barb: My lord...*bitting his inner cheek to hold in chuckle*Perhaps it would be best to be bolder with them also, Humans are finicky so perhaps it does you well to try to corner them for some answers...Maybe look for advice from someone who knows about human culture*Hinting toward Solomon*

Dia:...*eyes light up again as he stands up*YOUR ABSOLUTELY RIGHT BARBATOS!I WILL SEEK HELP FOR ROMANCING HUMANS FROM THE BEST!

Before Barbatos could stop him, Diavolo runs out of the office to head into the house where the one who will be able to help him in his need for human courting, If he wants to show you he is serious about wanting to be with you he would love to know the proper way to show his feelings...

At the House of Lamentation? WAIT WHAT?

Dia*Barges into Leviathan's room*LEVIATHAN TEACH ME YOUR WAYS OF HOW TO COURT A HUMAN!?

Levi*Shrieks as he is grabbed by Diavolo*

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colderdrafts · 1 year

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Sometimes I like to write some short drabbles from a specific character's pov to get into their minds a little bit better. Here's one of Amren's under the cut - not necessary to read to understand what's going on in TGA. Not exactly spoilers, but I'll place a warning for diving a lil into his background and brain, so skip this one if you wanna keep him ~mysterious~.

Tw for implied abuse and very brief suggestive mention.

Amren sees her, gliding across the mansion with that nasty look of superiority on her face. She has her golden hair up, braided and perfect, the green scales of her tail shining like she just shedded, sparkling in the indoor lighting.

Artificial.

She’s glancing at the people around her like they're assets to her world. It's her world, and the rest of them are just living in it.

He loathes her.

Truly.

And it is mutual. She has never cared for him, finding his large frame imposing and clumsy, his warm brown colors dull, his habits, opinions and interests obnoxious.

He doesn't even have venom. Pathetic.

She sees him standing by himself as he so often does, and he spares her a disdainful glance. He can tell she considers, briefly, if she should approach him.

Leave me alone, his expression says, exasperated. I want nothing to do with you.

It's bad enough he's stuck with her for the rest of his life without her invading his space on a constant basis.

She narrows her eyes at his standoffish look, and approaches regardless, taking his gaze as a challenge. He has half a mind to simply turn and leave, but his stubbornness and pride doesn't allow it. No way will he give her the satisfaction of watching him vacate a space he's occupying because of her.

"Why didn’t you join the rest of us for lunch?" she asks, coming to a halt in front of him. “You’re being rude. Again.”

He hates her voice. The way she speaks like she's trying to sound concerned, but the thinly veiled poison in her words runs so putrid he can almost smell it.

"Because I did not want to," he replies simply.

She narrows her eyes at him and he knows she's considering her options - she could turn this into a fight again. She likes to do that, set him off, get a reaction, trying to coax out the danger that is lurking within him. Give herself an excuse to be violent.

Or she could decide not to waste her time on him and move on.

"What is it going to be this time, Mavis?" he asks. He's tired of her games. "Make up your mind. I don't have all day."

She bares her teeth at him. "It's going to be you taking a little more responsibility around here," she hisses. "Neither of us likes this situation, but you blunt refusal to even try and make things work-"

"Because we both know it won’t," he sneers. "If we both decide not to follow through they'll have to find something else-"

"There isn't anything else!"

"Is everything alright over here?" comes his mother's voice now.

She's turning a corner and slithering towards them, her body and tail full of warm yellow tones, an open invitation – but her eyes, sharp, narrowed and cold, the way she has always looked at him, ensures he knows the facade in and out.

He looks at her and sighs. Of course she'd get involved. "It's fine," he grunts.

"We're alright, Madam," Mavis says politely.

His mother nods at her. "We'll soon be done with preparations. You should start to get ready for the ceremony," she informs them. She shoots Amren a stern look. "Both of you."

He rolls his eyes.

"Don't you take that tone with me you little -" his mother growls, but breathes to calm herself. She huffs and point a finger at him, claws polished to perfection. "Everything's counting on this. Don't you dare try to ruin this for everyone."

"As I ruin everything else?" Amren asks calmly.

His mother pinches the bridge of her nose. "Just so. Did you think I would count on you for this if it wasn't absolutely necessary? For once just stop being a thorn in everyone's side and act like a responsible member of this family."

He narrows his eyes.

Mavis glares at him, alarmed by the look on his face. "You best be there," she hisses. "You know we have to follow through."

It's at this moment Amren realizes something. Something he should have realized several years ago. A slight flip of a switch at this small interaction, that seemingly was the drop that made the glass of water spill over.

He does not want to be here anymore. He does not want to be a part of any of this. He has never wanted any of this for his entire life.

He watches them for a moment, their contempt and blatant disregard for his needs and wants so obvious he doesn’t even have to ask. We’re doing what’s best for you, the lie that has kept him here. You know how you are. You’ll hurt someone without us.

He realizes that there isn’t anything for him to gain by staying either.

So why is he even still here?

Whatever he has done to ensure even a sliver of approval, whatever punches he takes, no matter how much strength he musters to remain standing, no matter how much he hides what he is – it will never be enough. He will never be enough.

Will he really throw his life away for people who never even loved him to begin with?

No. This is a waste of time.

If this is what love is, he doesn’t want it. If this is what it means to be there for someone, he doesn't want it. He’ll hurt someone without them? Fine. Then he’ll just be alone.

Anything is better than this.

"Actually," Amren says flatly, pushing past both of them. "I really don't."

They stare after him.

His mother is the first to speak. "And what is that supposed to mean?" she jeers.

"It means I'm done," he says casually over his shoulder as he slithers away. "You obviously don't want me here. You never did. So I'll be on my way."

His mother snatches his wrist. "Oh no you don't-!"

He feels it then. Coiling underneath the surface of his skin, rearing its ugly head up at the unwanted contact. It smells danger and it intends to retaliate with force. His mother's grip on his arm is scalding, sending a burning rush of anger through him.

He turns to face her, roughly lifting his wrist she's clutching into the air, the golden sheen of his eyes darkening. "Let go."

She gets in his face, seething. "You do not get to just walk away after everything you've put this family through-!"

Out of the corner of his eye he notes Mavis' slight retreat at their confrontation, but he doesn't care about that.

He inches forward in a jutting motion to meet his mother's threat half-way, enough to startle her backwards. He sees the same thing in her eyes now, the flaring rage she passed on to him, coming to life at the slightest provocation.

He knows firsthand what she's is capable of when she's angry.

He knows she can make it hurt, and at one point in his life, he would have fawned and reeled back, begging for her forgiveness when she hit him with that look.

Too bad he's grown up now.

He's stronger than her, and she knows it. He's stronger than all of them.

He cracks his jaw wide open, bares his teeth and loudly hisses in her face, a final warning as he forcefully yanks his arm out of her grip. Alarmed, instinctively, she recoils.

He hits her with a potent furious stare, and he can taste something new in the air as the ferocious beast under his skin snaps to attention, almost reveling in it.

Fear.

Without a word, he turns and leaves them behind.

He leaves it all behind.

Amren's eyes open and he stares out in the murky darkness of Elise's office.

And just as he was about to fall asleep. Why would his brain bring that up again? That was several years ago.

He's grown since then. Gotten to know himself a little better. Licked his wounds and covered them up behind a strong pillar of stoicism. He shouldn't let memories get to him like this, they're in the past, over, he's done with them. They don't matter anymore.

What matters is the present, and the new odd situation he finds himself in. The terrible dangers of the past few days notwithstanding, it's also odd to be forcefully dragged out of your routine against your will and find yourself grateful for it. Elise is a smart troll, she knew what she was doing when she got him here, and it is vehemently annoying to admit it.

Yet another thing he shouldn't let get to him, but he can't stop. He doesn't want to.

He's latching on to that infuriating hum like a lost hatchling.

Sometimes he catches them smile, a genuine expression of joy and sometimes it's directed at or caused by him. Those moments a precious, the fact that he could create something soft, that he could provoke a response that wasn't filled with contempt and thinly veiled indifference.

He has their attention, and it's not because they're forced to give it to him, it's not because they're scared he may strike if they don't stay vigilant. It's because they want to give it to him, a genuine curiosity, an attempt to connect.

He doesn't know how to deal with that.

He's held them close one time, and the fact they were the one to seek him out is baffling his mind. Why would they ever do that? After everything he's done, everything they’ve seen - he can't understand.

They don't say it, but it must mean that, at some level, they trust him.

For whatever reason, this strange creature has decided he's safe to be around. He wants to live up to it. But he also knows that, to a certain point, he can't. At some point, he is going to hurt them. And he will lose that small sliver of faith when he does.

Don't get too close now, an arms reach and you may just avoid that inevitable outcome. Don’t get greedy. The standstill is more comfortable than the uncertainty of when.

They worry about him. They prod and poke and don't back down when he pushes, returning everything he dishes out with force and he likes it.

He learns. He wants to do better, be better, not because they force him to but because they make him want to. What is he hoping to gain here?

Warmth, echoes in his mind. And not just in a physical sense.

It's ridiculous, it's something that's always been branded as a weakness, something you don't get or give out unless you wish to perish.

A single moment of genuine connection is a recipe for being taken advantage of.

Yet they provided him with it so freely and now he finds himself starved for more.

He used to pity them for it, a disdain for that vulnerability. Yet when he was struck by it he knew that he had made a mistake. Nothing could ever be as powerful as opening yourself up like that, tearing off your skin and trusting the person who sees you do it won't cover your tender exposed flesh in salt.

Trust, he thinks. How do they give it so candidly? What is that incessant need of theirs to be close? He stayed in control because of it.

He hears them again in the room next over, tossing and turning, and a slight fearful whimper escapes them in their slumber. He immediately wants to reach inside their mind and destroy whatever is clouding it. He hears distress and he wants it gone. He just doesn't know how.

He wonders if they would let him hold them again - but there's no need. They were just helping him, as they said. But he felt like there was something else there, something besides the fact that he was dangerously cold and lethargic and they saved him from an extremely painful night. He doesn't know what that is, he only knows he wants more of it. But he doesn't feel that he can ask. He doesn't know how far their trust stretches, and he is keenly aware of how little it would take to ruin it.

A slight whimpering again and he grits his teeth, hands opening and closing. He wants to be there, take control of whatever is haunting them, keep them safely tucked in his coils where he knows they wont get hurt - not again. Not unless it goes through him, and not unless he makes it hurt seven-fold in retaliation. It can darn well just try.

The little noises are getting to him, his mind wanders and combines with the thoughts of that night, undisturbed, where he just had them close like that. He wonders what it would be like to hear them make those noises if it wasn't because of nightmares.

Would they sound the same if they made them because of him?

Would they make them when he's coiling around them, feeling their warmth, their hands on his skin, enjoying the friction of their body nervously squirming in his grip as he slowly inches in and pulls them closer - oh. No.

Absolutely not.

He sits up straight, quickly uncoiling himself and getting up. How incredibly frustrating. What did they do to him?

He quietly leaves the room, ignoring the annoying needy heat in his body and heads downstairs to get to the kitchen sink. He doesn’t bother turning on the lights – he can see just fine without them – but the silent dark house brings another level of emptiness to the already growing pit in his stomach. He cringes and lowers himself down to take a sip.

What is he supposed to do? This is getting ridiculous, and he’s being dramatic. Get a hold of yourself.

He runs his fingers through his hair and huffs. He keeps his hands on his head, closing his eyes and breathing out, patiently waiting for the unwelcome emotions to settle. He remains there, quiet and alone in the dark again.

One, two, three, four.

Four, three, two, one.

Eventually they diminish, and a familiar numbness settles over him instead. He's back in control. Good.

He silently ventures back to his room and coils up in a corner. Luckily the infuriating thing residing next door has gone quiet, and he falls asleep once again to the sound of nothing but his breath.

#colderwriting #tga #About Amren #smh Tiny what on earth did you do to him #dicslaimer this is not an excuse for his poor behavior don't be fooled #you ruined a perfectly good snek is what you did #look at him he's got attachment issues #Also if y'all wanna see more of this kinds of stuff lemme know it's fun doing them #Don't be scared to give me ideas #naga x reader #monster romance #gender neutral reader #monster x you #x reader #monster lover #naga #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #exophilia

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