#did not draw asmo smiling because when i think asmo i think the neutral face of disappointment he gives me when i get 2 stars 💔 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chibinekochan · 3 years

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How to become a Demon Ruler 206

Part: 00 I 01 I 02 I 03 I 04 I 05 I

Gender Neutral Reader insert

taglist: @ayesha95 ; @nomnomcupcakesworld ; @fex-phoenix ; @depressed-bixch ; @kitsune-oji ; @witch-o-memes ; @gallantys ,@tanspostsblog ; @undertaker-02 ,

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The class ends uneventfully and it's now time for lunch. I study my plan and see I have magical training next after this.

I sigh deeply. How am I supposed to survive a class like this?

"Not having anything they like on the menu?" Beel sounds concerned.

"No, I was just thinking about my next class. It's magical training." I frown.

"Ah I see, I have that class too. It's not always easy to keep control." Beel wants to make me feel better, it seems.

I appreciate his help. "It's just that I don't think that I'm capable of doing any magic at all."

"No way. Everyone has a bit of magic inside of them. You just need to train to get access to the power within." Levi shakes his head.

"This isn't a shonen anime Levi." Mammon already has a tray of food with him. Making Beel drool.

"He isn't wrong though. It's just a matter of training." Satan also chimes in from the side. Then he leans closer towards me. "Besides we all know about that pact of yours so even if you hadn't any magic now you do."

I'm not surprised they all know. It's probably to keep me safe from others.

"I don't know how to access that either," I whisper back at Satan.

"We will figure it out. I mean it's nothing to frown about and ruin your pretty face." Asmo just arrived and seems to indicate they will be supporting me.

"That's very nice of you. I just can't fail a class you know." I sigh.

"Too much pressure in my opinion. We also need to hurry before Beel eats everything." Belphie points at the huge pile on Beel’s tray.

"You are right, nobody can think with an empty stomach." Satan agrees and so you are all lining up to get food.

I have no idea what to choose from.

"You should try the buffo steak." Levi points to it.

"No, try the seven sin salad. It's very healthy and filling." Asmo objects.

"I'm just going for the soup today. I'm too tired for anything else." Belphie yawns.

"Just take the golden shrimps. I mean, look how much they sparkle." Mammon chimes in.

I have no idea why he is even here since he has food already.

"Just take a bit of everything," Beel says with a full mouth.

I shake my head. "I see everything is tasty. I will go for this dish, please." I order with a smile the item that looks the best.

"Ohhh, great choice. It even comes with a dessert." Beel is still chewing.

Everyone else just moves on to their own choices.

Once I'm done I'm looking for an open table. When my eyes meet Mammon's, he waves me over. "Hey, come sit here."

I awkwardly make my way through the tables.

"They aren't a dog you know." Levi giggles.

"I hope I'm not a burden on you." I sit down beside Mammon. "I won't say anything to Diavolo if you aren't including me." I don't want to be a bother to them.

"Nonsense." Belphie shakes his head.

"Yeah, like Lucifer can order us to do exactly what he wants." Satan sneers.

"I would never eat with anyone who I'm not interested in." Asmo winks at me when he sits down next to me.

"You better be grateful to the great Mammon." Mammon boasts.

I can hardly stop myself from laughing.

"Don't say that Mammon. We just hope to become friends with you." Beel smiles in between bites.

I smile at them.

"Now that is more like it." Asmo grins and we all eat together.

I feel very welcome by them, it's nice, even when they are all a bit strange.

After being full I'm on my way to my next class.

I see a group of students around a white-haired guy. He somehow catches my eye, maybe it's because he somehow stands out between the demons.

He meets my eye and gives me a short smile.

"Hey Solomon, I thought you were going to miss the first day." Satan knows the guy.

"I made it somehow. You must be the other human exchange student." Solomon seems friendly but I somehow feel on guard around him.

"Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking how do you know Satan?" It seems a bit strange to me.

"That's because I have a pact with him," Solomon answers very nonchalantly.

My eyes go wide. "Wow, you have a pact with a pretty powerful demon." I'm quite curious to know how this even happened.

Solomon chuckles. "To be exact, I have pacts with 72 demons."

"72? That's a huge number. Are you collecting pacts or something?" It seems like a ridiculous amount.

Satan laughs at this. "You could say that. He got pacts with Levi and Asmo too."

"What can I say? I might just like making pacts." Solomon shrugs like it's no big deal. Then he looks at me again, like he is now truly seeing me for the first time. "You seem to be a pretty unique one yourself. I mean it's not been that long and you have a pact of your own. I might have some competition at this point." He seems to be able to sense my pact.

I wonder if he knows who I made my pact with? I almost shiver from that thought.

"What can I say, I adapt fast." I try to be nonchalant about it but I'm unsure if it works on him.

"Oh, I don't know much about how humans access their magic, you might be able to help them." Satan has thought about this, it seems. Which is honestly pretty nice of him.

Solomon thinks for a moment. "It's been a while since I learned how to use magic but it's different for everyone. It's like pulling energy from the elements around you. Since you have a pact you can also draw power from that. You can do that by recalling how you felt when that magic force entered your body. I can give you some pointers later. I'm staying at Purgatory hall by the way." He seems to want to help me out.

"I will try that. It's just kinda hard. I tried to feel my power but got nothing." I sigh.

"That's normal with beginners. You are probably best off trying to feel magic power from another strong force. Like a fire or a waterfall. Maybe even a strong demon." Solomon smiles calmly.

"You might want to exchange numbers to make it easier for everyone." Satan's suggestion is really good.

"That's a great idea." I exchange information with Solomon. I have questions for him, even when he seems a bit shady.

"You are awfully eager to help the new student Satan. Are you into them?" Solomon grins suggestively at Satan.

"Do I look like Asmo to you? They gave me a very nice present. I'm simply returning the favor." Satan denies it, but not very strongly.

"A present? That's interesting." Solomon looks at me with glee. "That's certainly one way to gain favors for pacts."

The class bell saves me from the rest of this conversation.

The magic class is very hard for me. I can't do a single thing. Even when it's very easy.

Solomon aces every task and Satan just seems to be there to assist the teacher.

I wonder why Solomon is even here, to be honest. He is clearly not very frustrated. I want to manage just one spell. Then I recall Solomon's advice.

The memory of my pact with Diavolo is still fresh. I recall the warmth that his energy left within me. The sensation on my back. I start to feel the warmth from my back. It seems to work.

I calm my excitement and focus on that feeling. It seems to be spreading. I feel warmer, I try to imagine the energy going into my arms and hands. It's like a river in front of my inner eye. Warm and red flowing through me.

I close my eyes, getting lost in the feeling. It's flooding me slowly.

Then someone yells out in fear. My concentration breaks and I open my eyes.

In horror, I see flames in front of me. I set a table on fire.

Behind me, I hear Solomon laughing.

"Omg! I didn't mean for this to happen!" I panic and frantically look for a fire extinguisher.

"It's alright, I can handle this." The teacher steps in and the fire dies down. "Are you alright?" He seems worried.

"Y-Yeah." Other than shaking from the shock, I'm fine.

"I think they should be set free from the rest of the class. I will bring them outside for some fresh air." Satan sees me shaking.

The teacher nods.

We go to a bench outside and we sit down.

"That was quite something. Usually, it takes until lesson six to set something on fire." Satan chuckles lightly.

"Not helpful." I sigh and look at my own hands. I never thought I could summon such powers. It's kind of scary.

"You don't need to beat yourself up. Diavolo is extremely powerful so it's no wonder that by tapping into his powers you cause such destruction. To be honest it could have been way worse. It's awesome that you could do it on the first try so all you need is some practice." Satan tries to cheer me up and I'm grateful for that.

"I hope you are right. It was so scary. I didn't even realize what I did." I wonder if I will be able to control it next time.

"Maybe just imagine water next time? Oh, wait then you're probably gonna flood us all like Levi." Satan chuckles.

"Levi floods stuff?" This sorta surprises me.

"Yeah, he always summons Lothan when he is very upset and then the whole building gets wet." Satan sighs.

I have a hard time imagining it. "Seems pretty reckless."

Satan shrugs. "Living with demons is just like this. When I get very angry I destroy stuff all the time too. It's hard to control my anger in my demon form. We all might seem cool and powerful but our sins are also a weakness." Satan smiles ruefully.

I nod. "I see, thank you for sharing that with me." Somehow it helps to know that they also screw up.

"Just be prepared for the lecture from Lucifer if you get into trouble. Well, maybe in your case it will be Diavolo scolding you. No, wait, that's too hard to imagine. Who is doing the punishment in your home?" Satan seems genuinely curious.

"I haven't gotten in trouble yet, but I somehow feel it's Barbatos." He is at least punishing Diavolo, it seems.

"I can see that. I wonder what he will do in that case." Satan seems to imagine a few things.

"Who knows, but I certainly don't want to find out." I giggle slightly.

Satan nods and we sit for a while on the bench.

It's nice of him to keep me company.

School is probably pretty good after all.

I feel like I made a few friends and I guess it can only get better from here on out.

#obey me #omswd #demon ruler 201 #how to become a demon ruler #obey me fanfic #om!

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annhellsing · 4 years

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Vertigo

notes: i have more asmo wares to peddle since people like to sleep on him when he’s legit the hottest. smh. anyway, for us asmo-fuckers, enjoy!!! rating: SUUUUUPER explicit, this is set during one of asmo’s team bonding orgies pairing: asmodeus / gender neutral reader word count: 2,401

The space between fingers, lips and legs-- that is heaven.

He can’t watch you because a pretty woman with ice-blue eyes laid a pink blindfold over his. Asmodeus stares at the warm-black haze when he tries to see through the fabric. But there are other ways to look at things, he can still smell your wild-rose perfume and the feel your hair tickling his cheek.

You’re not quite above him, that’s someone else. Someone distant and forgettable, even as his cock makes them writhe in pleasure. Asmodeus does not know their name, he knows no-one’s name save yours. And he moans it, high and piercing even as others try to move his heart.

He reaches out for you, blind and open-mouthed. Slack-jawed and bound. But he can’t move an inch, he’s tied to the headboard with a length of silk. Of course, he doesn’t remember the fact of whoever did the tying-- he was looking at your smiling mouth.

“You’ve been very naughty,” you said, he can remember that with perfect clarity. You were on top of him, then and your hot teeth worried rosebud-love bites onto his neck. You made him beautiful, though he could never admit to that.

It is his greatest delight to be very, very naughty. But this romp, this tryst is standing-room only. His large, lavish bedroom is densely packed with writhing bodies and heady moans. Mouths accept offerings of all kinds, people either fight for a place next to the avatar of lust or they resign themselves to whatever fun they can have.

You hold a place of honour, so much so that Asmodeus considers this week’s orgy to have been a blind compulsion. He really doesn’t care for the stranger who’s holding his legs apart. Nor for the one who’s cock is trying to tickle his insides. It feels very dull, the spark of electricity he chases so earnestly is exclusive only to you.

“Does it feel good?” a deep voice asks above the din of the lascivious throng. Asmodeus answers to the one he cares for, letting his head fall sideways.

“You feel like sin itself,” he pants as you put your hand to his throat. You give an experimental squeeze and revel in his graceless whine. “More, more--”

The fool between his perfect thighs must mistake his private moans for open conversation. He thrusts more earnestly, but it’s the gentle increase in pressure on his jugular that makes Asmodeus keen.

“You look so pretty,” he hears you, your mouth is flush against his ear. All at once, he is alone with you in a big bed. No one else bothers you, you tie him where you see fit and play with him how you like. And it is enough.

“Love me,” he starts, tripping over words as you loosen your grip so he can speak. “Tell me you love me. Say it. I need to hear it.”

Asmodeus hears you giggle, which makes unholy heat bloom in his lower stomach. Someone who is not you takes his cock in their mouth. He thrusts in an almost pedestrian way for a few moments, until--

“Oh, I will always love you,” you whisper. And he stops dead. He does not try, even in passing, to pretend he’s pleased with lesser people’s attempts at pleasure. “You already know that.”

“But it’s nice to hear you say it,” he replies, his voice is strained and broken. Your hand leaves his neck, moving up his cheek and tracing the sharp line of his jaw.

“You hear it all the time,” you exclaim, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Everyone here loves you,” Asmodeus shakes his head only once before falling still again.

Your index finger presses against his lower lip. Then, another does beside it. The order is clear, if unspoken-- no more talking, open your mouth. Suck.

His lips, pink and swollen from your many kisses do as they’re bid. They part and his warm tongue darts over the ends of your fingers. Asmodeus takes them in his mouth without complaint, and he’s grateful for it. He isn’t sure how he would phrase that the only confession with any meaning comes exclusively from you.

He holds your fingers in his mouth, swirling the tip of his tongue over your nail and making you giggle. You sound like music when you laugh. Asmodeus feels you shift, feels you rise to sit beside him. Your warm chest nuzzles against him and he gives a contented hum, though it’s somewhat muffled.

“You seem bored, lover,” you drop your voice so low that it can’t be heard through the lecherous cacophony. He hums again, this time in confirmation. It makes you tut. “Everyone’s working so hard to please you.”

“You think I care about them?” he asks, turning his head away from your fingers so he can speak. To his credit, he’s quiet as you are. “I wish it were you.”

“Who? Who do you wish was me?” you ask, just to be a tease. It makes him whine.

“Everyone, please, I wish--” he stares blankly at the inside of the blindfold, until the imagined outline of your face becomes partially visible. Asmodeus lunges at you, his mouth is smeared with lipstick from nearly three-dozen lovers.

And the only kiss he craves is the one you give.

“Don’t be ungrateful,” you say. You’re not where he thought you were. When he twists, making the man inside him shout in surprise, Asmodeus kisses your cheek instead. “Everyone’s trying so hard to make you happy.”

“But you don’t even have to try,” he insists, “I just want you, why can’t I have you?”

“Asmodeus, you’re being naughty again,” you warn. He shakes his head like he doesn’t care, his fringe falls over his blindfold. You smooth it back and he chases the feeling of your hand.

“Punish me, then,” he says it so quickly that his words run together. “Make everyone else go away and then you can--”

You cut him off with a kiss so searing that it’s nearly painful. He moans into your mouth, against your teeth that sink into his lower lip. You hold his chin, angling it and putting strain on his neck. But, he thinks, if it weren’t for the blindfold he would be looking at you. That makes it worth it.

“Your punishment is going to be waiting patiently until your friends have had their fill of you,” you say. He’s heard you talk like this before, the sound of your voice biting twice as hard as teeth. It makes him shiver. “You invited them here, after all.”

Asmodeus tries pouting, but it’s a rare day in hell that it works. Your heart can be like ice and it is very rarely moved when he’s being difficult.

“But, since I’m not cruel--” Asmodeus perks up at that, turning his head and nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “You’re allowed to pretend that the only one touching you is me.”

The whole evening he’s been passively interested in the romantic attentions of others, but the fantasy that you were behind every act excites him more than he would like to admit. He stiffens and twitches in an anonymous mouth, thrusting forward out of habit when he finds something to strike his fancy. Asmodeus squirms, mouth open to agree. But he’s only able to nod enthusiastically.

You kiss him again, softer this time and he can feel the smile on your face. You must look beautiful, perhaps more beautiful even than him. But the thought of that inspires no jealousy or discomfort, only an aching desire to bask in it.

But his blindfold stays put. Idly, you muse about it aiding in his ability to visualize. You take up the same spot as before, tucked up against his side. You’re in a prime location to whisper salacious things, but for a tense moment you say nothing. Then--

“Well?” you ask, “Entertain me. You invited me here, what are you feeling now that I’ve given you this brand new fantasy?”

“It feels like sunshine,” he sighs, “your mouth is so warm.”

You don’t bother to glance at the head bobbing between his legs, nor at the hips thrusting in and out of him. But you lift an eyebrow and ask,

“And how do I feel inside you, hm?” Asmodeus gasps. He focuses, just for a second, on the sensation that was once so tiresome.

Instead of answering, his toes curl. He begins to move as much as he can in time with the man who bucks into him. Though not one to usually entertain salacious thoughts --preferring to act on them when possible-- Asmodeus is more than enamoured.

If there were more of you, you could take him every which way until he tired. The idea makes him wish he was allowed to touch you. He would put his arms around your waist, bury his head in your neck and beg for more. And all without any idea of what more he could possibly have.

But as it stands, he’s immobile. He shivers and shakes like a leaf on the bed, blind to the truth that there is only one of you. And he would like to stay that way forever.

“Use your words,” you whisper, your voice is more of a growl than before.

“Y-You feel so good,” he tries. Quantifying the volume of sensations in words is impossible. Everything feels perfect when it comes from you.

Another set of hands, your hands reach out and explore his chest. With another two thrusts, you decide you’re done fucking him and detangle yourself. Your open mouth leaves his cock and begins to press sloppy kisses to his hips.

Someone else --no, you, it’s you-- takes up the vacant spot between his spread legs. You line up your cock and sink inside. Asmodeus wonders if he might scream himself hoarse at this rate.

He’s become the loudest participant by far, shouting in bliss far louder than anyone else.

“That’s it,” you mumble encouragement. Your warm hands explore his bruised, soft chest.

In sharp contrast with the brutal pace of your thrusts, you touch him gently. His abdomen is riddled with lip-prints and bite-marks aplenty, a canvas of red and purple and pink. You have no interest in pressing on bruises when he’s so vulnerable. You don’t want to break him just when he’s starting to behave.

You hum around his cock, swirling your tongue over the head. You take him all with a feverish desire to please, something that nearly draws him out of the fantasy until he’s swept up in another kiss.

Everything else goes a bit blurry, it’s easier to pretend. Asmodeus resolves to enjoy himself, to dream for as long as he can that you can love him in so many ways. You draw him in, careful not to force him to contort too painfully. He’s proven time and time again to be sturdier than he looks, but you’ll take no chances.

“Say it,” you whisper when you pull apart. “Say that you love me, let me hear it.”

“O-oh,” Asmodeus stutters. His cheeks are on fire. He trips on his words not because the frantic thrusting has stopped, but because he can feel your weight move away from him.

He wonders if he’s underwater for a moment, drifting in a rose-tinted ocean of bliss. The metaphor is ridiculous and yet entirely appealing. Your voice is distant, clouded and clipped like you’re speaking to someone else. He hears you tell someone to get off.

This time, it isn’t something stiff and hot that presses inside him. Two fingers, lovely and familiar take their time. And a soft, warm hand picks up his wet cock. He didn’t even notice, truth be told, that the mouth it occupied had abandoned him. He doesn’t miss it.

“Oh! I love you!” he exclaims when he realizes what’s happening. It takes a loose pump of your fist and a curl of your fingers to make him realize. Even with the blindfold, he knows this isn’t a game any more.

You’re kneeling between his legs, stretching him with your middle and index finger. Your other hand moves with its own rhythm, teasing and playful in a familiar way. Even the most private acts hold some measure of sweetness when you’re the one to do them.

Asmodeus devolves to babbles, as he always does when you give him your full attention. His cock, though it has been hard for some time, feels so stiff and warm as to be uncomfortable. After such a long time waiting, he has what he needs.

“I love you, too,” you say. Your voice sounds a little clearer. “You can come, I give you permission.”

He didn’t know he didn’t have it, but to do so for anyone else would’ve been deeply wrong. He isn’t sure when that became acceptable, when his tastes became so entwined with your presence. But now that he has what he wants, a private moment amid chaos with you, every good feeling comes crashing down around him.

There’s a wail of your name, making every other sound in his bedroom seem like a whisper. You curl your fingers, focusing in on that very sensitive spot and pumping his cock through his numbing orgasm.

It takes a while for him to stop twitching. The party winds down slowly after Asmodeus’ electric presence is dulled. You do as he does, for the most part, tuning out participants and friends.

You prepare to take care of your lover in a different way, untying his legs and arms after slowly pulling down his blindfold. He looks a sight, his mascara reduced to two smears down his cheeks. Every colour of lipstick is mottled over his mouth and neck.

“So pretty,” you whisper as he pushes himself up. Asmodeus wastes no time in pushing himself on top of you.

You hug him, falling back on the bed and letting him get comfortable on your chest. Though he flinches at putting weight on his fresh bruises, he seems very much unwilling to move.

“Was I good?” he asks into your neck. The sound is barely louder than your earlier whispers. For all his hollering, this is something he would rather keep private.

“Mhm,” you reply, turning your head and kissing just above his ear. “You were perfect.”

#asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #asmodeus x mc #obey me!#obey me #shall we date #shrugs this is bad #but i love him so dearly #nsft #anniewrites

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indiavolojones · 4 years

Text

also a long... long time ago someone asked me for an artist!mc wanting to draw satan. I still 100% want to do it, but here’s a little placeholder in the meantime!!

Satan intensely examines the framed work in front of him--you think that it might be some kind of… statement on fertility? There’s definitely a feminine figure in the garish swathes of puke green. Maybe. Could also be a peanut. If you squint and tilt your head, it kind of looks like an animal?

You’ve never had an eye for this sort of thing, only agreeing to come because Satan had invited you.

hope u guys don’t mind i completely veered off the request path.. but here’s something short!!

1.3kish words, gen, satan/gender neutral!mc

~~~

“Mammon would be furious if he knew he missed you like this,” he grins, bowing and holding his hand out.

The outfit is… fancier than anything you’ve ever really worn in front of the brothers. It’s perfectly tailored to your body thanks to Asmo, the vest cinched at your waist like one of Lucifer’s. It accentuates the slight curve of your waist, enticingly settling at the small of your back.

Your brows raise at the outstretched hand, before rolling your eyes and snorting at the gesture. Satan looks like he expects you to playfully bat his hand away with some flustered complaint. To his surprise, you take his hand, and lace your fingers with his.

Satan’s eyes widening is a sweet reward in itself.

The art exhibit Satan takes you to is far fancier than Satan had led you to believe, so with each passing devil appraising you, you’re glad you let Asmo guide you into his closet for an outfit upgrade.

Satan is dressed in a casual sports jacket and fitted slacks, but his natural good looks and the undeniable power radiating off him would have made him a knockout even if he was wearing a tracksuit. (Maybe. That actually sounds hilarious.)

You fiddle with the hem of the vest, at the quintessential, billowy-sleeved Asmo shirt he’d paired with it. You look like you belong in a fantasy novel as a princely character, but perhaps that’s what Asmo intended. If you had any doubts about how different your outfits are, the worries are blown out of the water by the sheer chaos of Devildom “high fashion”.

Besides, Satan seems to like it, if his constant gentle touches mean anything.

By comparison to the eccentric shades of Devildom fashion (some more... daring than others...), the art itself is nothing exciting. Once you’ve sipped enough champagne to calm your nerves, you realize that the art is actually...

Terrible.

You’ve seen some god-awful art up in the human realm, but it’s almost comforting to know that there are also snobby devil artists with bad technique and signatures as big as their egos. But… Satan likes it? You think.

You’re not quite sure, honestly, and you don’t want to offend him by saying anything negative. He stares at every framed work with an intensity that would burn through the canvas if looks could kill. Sometimes it’s a few seconds, sometimes several minutes, but Satan will nod once he’s finished appraising the canvas, and then move on to the next one.

Almost without fail, he will place his hand on your waist or the small of your back and lead you to another… suspect… painting.

Satan intensely examines the framed work in front of him --you think that it might be some kind of… statement on fertility? There’s definitely a feminine figure in the garish swathes of puke green. Maybe. Could also be a peanut. If you squint and tilt your head, it kind of looks like an animal? You’ve never had an eye for this sort of thing, only agreeing to come because Satan had invited you.

“This isn’t your kind of date,” Satan states, and you jump, looking at him with cinched brows.

“I never said that--” Satan rolls his eyes.

“You’ve spent more time looking at me than at the art.”

You’re a work of art is the infantile comeback that comes to mind, but you don’t have the strength to be so bold or cheesy. Crossing your arms sheepishly, you look anywhere but at him.

“I… You seemed interested, and I didn’t want to tell you no?” You admit, and Satan sighs, like he’s not sure what he’s going to do with you. “Did you…” You fumble over the words, “Did you like this one?”

Satan blinks as he looks at you, his head tilted. Huffing with amusement at what he finds in your expression, he shakes his head. He looks back at the painting and squints at it.

“Honestly, no. It’s gaudy, the technique is terrible, and I’m sure the artist was drunk the entire time. There’s Demonus stains in the corner here.” he groans, pointing at the out-of-the-ordinary purple splotches that don’t match any of the other materials used. You can’t help the glee that fills your chest at Satan admitting that he also thinks these works are absurd--there’s relief as well.

You’re not sure if you’d be able to stand another hour of this.

“Why would anyone buy this?” You ask, and Satan looks at you helplessly.

“I have no idea. Art is subjective, but most modern art makes me furious,” Satan says, shoulders shrugging, “Sometimes I try to stop and really, really look at the piece. Usually that works. I suppose if I bend over backwards, I can start to maybe piece together whatever asinine meaning the artist intended.”

“What if you end up still hating it?” you question. Satan huffs.

“Then I buy it,” Satan’s gaze shifts to look at you from the corner of his eyes, and he can’t help his wicked smirk, “And I use it for kindling.”

“What?” you ask, eyebrows cinched together. Satan holds his hands up noncommittally, and you shake your head with a fond, disbelieving laugh, “You’re terrible.”

“You think so? Let’s just get on with the second part of our date. I think you’ll enjoy it much more,” Satan hums, and before you have a chance to ask, he’s looking out into the crowd.

“Malphas!” Satan calls, and waves a hand over at a timid looking demon in an older suit.

The demon, Malphas, shuffles over with a toothy smile--it was far too easy for Satan to get his attention in this crowd. Was the demon waiting for Satan to call him over? He shakes hands with Satan, grabbing the brother by the forearm in an enthusiastic greeting.

“Satan! I’m glad you could make it,” he rasps, a row of sharp, tiny teeth in the demon’s mouth bared in what you think is a smile.

“No, thank you for the invite.” Satan is charming--you’ve always thought so, but to watch him interact with anyone not you or his own family is an interesting change of pace. Malphas seems to be tripping over himself to gain Satan’s approval, even as his beady black eyes flicker between the two of you. Satan gestures at you with one hand, placing the other hand on the small of your back.

You flush at the contact.

“Malphas, this is our human exchange student,” Satan says your name, and you extend a hand out to him. Malphas blinks down at your hand, as if it will burn him, and you realize that with how little you know of demons.

Even if you forget when you’re amidst the brothers, there are quite a few devils who are hesitant about Diavolo’s integration ideals. You trust that Satan would never let you come to any harm from them, though. Malphas coughs, but then he’s bringing a small, clawed hand up to yours. His skin is clammy, and a strange texture, but you both manage the handshake under Satan’s careful watch.

At the civilized shaking of your hands, Satan beams, “Malphas is the gallery owner. He invites me to shows for up-and-coming artists, and I attend when I can.” The brothers often comment on Satan’s popularity, with varying reactions of disbelief and envy, but getting to live it is a whole other experience in itself.

"Listen, Malphas," Satan points at the painting in front of you, "I'd like to buy this painting." Satan winks at you from the corner of his eyes, and you glance at the demon to see if he noticed Satan's wink. Malphas, however, only wrings his hands together and lets out a pleased growl, nodding his head. "Bill it to my account."

"Excellent choice, my lord," he chirps, almost like a bird, "I will get this prepared for you immediately!"

Malphas skitters off, leaving Satan smiling at you and you staring at him in utter confusion. The hand on the small of your back slides to your waist, and Satan’s holding you close to his side--the mere concept of Satan buying this shitty painting is still enough of a distraction that you don’t immediately burst into flames at it. The opulence of this gallery opening also screams expensive. Satan hadn’t even asked for the price? You have so many questions.

"But this… is awful?" You ask, trying to picture where the hell Satan would hang this. Its bright colors don't match the interior of his bedroom at all; if Satan were to hang this, you'd never be able to not see it.

Another mischievous quirk of his lips, and realization dawns on your face.

Oh.

Satan has an interesting definition of fun.

Something about the ingredients inside the paint used on Devildom works causes a spectacular chemical reaction. You wonder how many poor portraits have fallen prey to Satan’s sadism--but remembering the work itself, you’re not particularly bothered.

Ashes and paint dirty the sleeves of Asmo’s shirt and you worry about getting the stains out, but then Satan’s sidling up behind you... and you’re sure Asmo will forgive you if you compliment him enough! Probably!

Satan’s height allows him to rest his chin on your shoulder as you both stare into the makeshift bonfire, his arms wrapped loosely around your center.

“I thought you were joking,” you snort as the bright red smoke billows up into the Devildom sky.

Satan’s hot puff of laughter tickles the hair by your ear.

#writing #ch: satan #pr: satan/mc #satan/mc #obey me satan #STILL STRUGGLIN W HIM BUT I TRY!! OK!!!

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