MOE ☆ GANGSTA

Mammon;

Mammon is a simple demon. He likes money, he likes fame, he likes expensive clothes and fancy cars—if someone had asked him before he met you, he’d have said there’s nothing more attractive than someone with a wallet full of grim and a sweet convertible he can snatch for a ride.

And he wasn’t lying per-say, those things are sexy- but they’re not what gets his rocks off anymore. Don’t be mistaken—his cock still gets hard when you spend your hard earned money on little ol’ him- dinner, shoes, clothes, keepsakes; Mammon will happily thank you. 

He just gets so much harder when you’re sweet to him. 

He’s not used to people being nice to him. His brothers, the angels, his classmates—everyone knows him as the scummy second born. He’s a punching bag. Which is why, when the new human exchange student shows up and starts treating him all nice like, he flusters, and fumbles, and has to make up excuses for why he suddenly needs to leave—because he’s too hard to think straight.

Doesn’t matter why, or when, or what the circumstances are—Mammon can’t help but get a dumb little grin on his face, hoping against hope that you’ll let him drag you away. Where you two are isn’t a concern- he just wants to stuff you full of his cock, feel you spasm every time you cum, and fuck you full while you tell him what a good job he’s doing. 

Don’t mind the whimpers.

That somewhat connects with the other thing that has Mammon all hot and bothered for you—you’re his first, his only pact. That kind of thing is special! It reminds him that he’s yours- you’re his master; and even if you have six others too, he doesn’t go around calling himself your first man for nothing.

Every time you use the pact on him—force a command that he can’t resist, call on his power, call on him, he can’t help but get a little thrill- and he knows you can feel it. There’s that rush that starts at your pact mark and floods through the rest of your body, burning you up from the inside and telling you just how much Mammon appreciates your orders. He can’t hide from you, no matter how hard he tries.

His cock will swell and throb when you tell him to come, twitch and leak when you tell him to sit—hell forbid you keep going, he doesn’t know how much he can take! Have some mercy on him, won’t you, human? You’ll let him out to fuck you, right?

Leviathan;

It’s pretty obvious how excited Levi gets when you do…basically anything, really. The very fact that someone as perfect and amazing and kind as you decided to grace such a worthless, disgusting, no-good otaku with your presence turns him on enough—he can’t even remember how many times he’s fucked himself dumb after you left a gaming sesh, stuffing his face in whichever blankets you used or pillows you sat on to soak up your leftover scent. 

It makes him feel gross—he knows he’s gross, and a pervert, and that you’d probably slap him and never talk to him again if you knew everything he’s done; that’s just fact! And you can never ever, ever never ever convince him otherwise! 

That doesn’t actually stop him though- for as much as he berates himself, his libido might be the only thing stronger than a good heaping dose of shame. 

Everyone knows that Levi likes cosplay—he likes it on himself, he likes making it, he likes studying it, and he really likes it on you. It’s hard enough to see you dressed like you’re from his favorite media, wandering around a con he made you come to while he parades in something matching—and you know he chooses the skimpy, scantily clad characters on purpose—but when you wear something he makes?

He couldn’t even watch that play you put on during your first year, no matter how badly he wanted to—he could barely make it through the outfit checks. Watching you strut around in his hard work, so readily modeling the intricate pieces that his favorite author requested- it was too much; and there’s only so long a guy can go with a pillow in his lap before you start to get suspicious. 

But no matter how badly he wants to feel guilty, you keep coming back—you keep gaming together, keep talking to him, keep touching him—and it’s hard to feel too ashamed when you’re looking at him…like that. 

Satan;

Satan, as much as he absolutely loathes the idea, has a pretty similar type to Lucifer. He’s definitely tried to change who he's attracted to out of sheer willpower, cringing at the idea of sharing something with his older brother- but to no avail. No matter how badly he wishes he could change it, he absolutely has a type; someone smart, respectable—someone who can hold their own in a conversation and not force him to drudge his way through.

Your intellect is like no other- because it's yours. The concentrated face you make while you study for exams, the beautiful ease you have casting spells or issuing commands, the relaxed lidding of your eyes while you read a good book—he finds himself undeniably, unequivocally, absolutely smitten. That is what turns Satan on the most in your day to day lives. 

And when you humor his biggest kink, donning ears and tail and dropping to all fours- but that’s something else entirely.

We already know the fourth born doesn't set aside any care for who sees you at your most vulnerable; if anything, he relishes in it. That time during your tutoring, when Mammon laid on the floor, completely out cold, the only thing he wanted to do was take you—to fuck you, make love to you, however it was you’d let him; because truly, the sight of you, so effortlessly powerful… 

It’s hard to remember how many times he came at the thought of you that night, just that by the time his alarm began to chime, his cock was flushed and sore; body simmering frustrated wrath. It’s a good thing the school library is fairly scarce first thing in the morning. 

Asmodeus;

Is there anything that doesn’t get Asmodeus aroused? Well- yes, but really, it can seem impossible to find them. It’s as if every move you make serves to get his cock hard and pussy wet; oh darling, won’t you just let him ravish you? Or better yet, you can have the honor of ravishing him! It’s what he’s best at after all; why strive to be anything less than the perfect lover?

But…you’ve never seen him in that light. The Avatar of Lust is still just…Asmo under all the glitz and glam; and around you, he’s never had to worry that’ll be forgotten. You see his authentic self, look past the one thing he’s ever known others want from him—demon and human alike, he’s really never met someone quite like you. 

And maybe it’s ironic, or a little bit cliche, but if there’s anything that gets him going the most; it’s when you don’t look to him for sex. Knowing he doesn’t have to put out to keep you interested? Fuck is that sexy. Quiet moments alone without the expectation of anything more? So hot. Non-sexual intimacy? Hells darling, are you trying to kill him? 

Sometimes he likes to stew in it, to sit there, absolutely drooling into his tight little briefs knowing it changes nothing for you whether or not you tangle in the sheets; you’re here for him. Sometimes your sleepovers—your makeovers, your skincare, your pampering—seem a little extra steamy, all because your love is just squirming in his seat to stay contained.

Sometimes he just can’t help himself—because yes, he loves that you see him as a person; loves that rain or shine he has someone to gab with, to paint the nails of and cry on; but he’s still a demon. Sometimes he needs sweet tender care, sometimes he needs to sit on your face.

Beelzebub;

I could leave this section blank and we’d all know what I was going to say; this man loves food. Is he a feeder? Eh, kind of up to you to decide- all he knows is that making sure his partner is nourished with the best ingredients you can find in the Devildom is a pleasure in and of itself. The way your sweet face lights up when he hands you a spoon to taste, showering him with praise each time those delicious dishes hit your tongue—he wishes he could keep you there forever. 

Beel will pack an extra lunch on days you have classes, just to make sure you’re always getting the best possible nutrition; keeps a snack in his pocket that he fights with all his willpower not to eat before the next time you cross paths. Truly, he just wants to make sure you’re healthy and happy! 

So what if he sports a half chub while he stands at the stove, watching your lips curl around the base of a fork with an almost intimidating stare; so what if he can’t help but imagine those same lips wrapped around the head of his cock, taking everything he has to give you? Who cares if his brain sometimes switches the white sauce on your lips with his drooling cum—nutrition is nutrition—he isn’t doing anything wrong. 

It’s of no consequence whether or not you gain or lose weight with his cooking—that isn’t what does it for him (though he won’t deny that his instincts love someone with a little meat to them, be it fat or muscle)—it’s knowing that he’s a provider. You’re his mate, his family; and just like the rest of his family, you’ll be subject to Beel’s unending love language. No use avoiding it—everyone needs to eat. 

And sure, maybe sometimes he’ll prop you up on the counters after a meal, the taste of his cooking still on your tongue, and drop to his knees between your thighs. Maybe sometimes he’ll stay there, swallowing your essence until you’re crying for a break from the pleasure- and maybe he’ll lean back up, gripping your face tight so you can taste what he did to you—he’s providing. In any way he can. 

Belphegor;

Belphie is lazy—there’s no polite way to put it. And he’d agree! He’s not ashamed of his laziness, or the number of hours he sleeps in a day; he’s not ashamed of where and when he chooses to take his next nap, and he doesn’t care if it’s inconveniencing to most people; he’s the Avatar of Sloth, it can’t be helped. 

That being said, Belphie’s libido is less noticeable than those of his brothers. It’s still there, he still gets horny, still jerks off, still wants sex- but it can be infrequent. Besides, why put in the work during the day when he can manipulate your dreams at night? A well placed sensation here, a phantom touch there, and it feels nearly like the real thing—sticky thighs and wet sheets included. 

But…there are some things that get him going without trying. 

I’m a firm believer in brat! Belphegor; he’s the youngest, the baby of the family- he gets what he wants and gets away with even more, no one batting an eye so long as mixes a pout with that permanently lidded gaze of his. How could you possibly say no to that? I mean…there’s a reason it was so easy to lure you into his arms in the attic. 

He doesn’t get the sharp slaps from his eldest brother, doesn’t get strung from the ceiling like his second, doesn’t get raged on by the fourth, or shrieked at by the fifth—so when you, a human, a lowly, frustrating, insignificant mortal dares raise your voice; dares to threaten punishment and harm like your words could ever mean anything to a being as powerful as him-

Visual HC’s:

⟢he has longer ears like some of his brothers ⟢he has moles, most noticeably one by his lower lip and on his ear but there are a few on his torso as well (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) ⟢i also hc that he has little cowlicks in his hair that look like horns ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) + some black roots in his hair that unfortunately match his ever loathed eldest brother ⟢i think he’d prefer a more sharp “cat-like” nails instead of round ones ⚞^. .^⚟ ⟢just general + small outfit changes like shades on the jacket/sweater and the overall shape of his shirt + sweater

Lucifer

Bisexual, calls himself a cis guy but honestly wouldn't mind being something else. Any pronouns.

Mammon

Bisexual, aroflux, agender guy/bxy. He/it.

Leviathan

Demi-omnisexual, reciproromantic, transmasc genderfaun. They/he/she/+ any neos.

Satan

Pansexual, greyromantic, transfem agender. She/it.

Asmodeus

Pansexual, demiromantic, transandrogynous bigender. He/she/ze.

Beelzebub

Pansexual, aro-jump, genderfluid. Mirror pronouns.

Belphegor

Pomosexual, pomogender. Any pronouns.