#not proofread!!!

Lucifer:

-At first he assumed you were one of his brothers when you entered his room. -Immediately feels a headache forming. -“Do you require anything?” “Rawr.” “Get out.”

Mammon:

-"D'YAHAHAHAHAH WHAT THE HELL ARE YA' WEARING?" -he's also going to buy and wear one so that you both can perform stunts in public and earn money #thegrindneverstops

Levi:

-He ugly snorted when you burst into his room wearing that and now he feels so bad -Will ask to recreate trends with you but he cannot stop laughing so all the videos come out shaky and full of him giggling in the background. -His camera roll is now filled with photos of you in the dino costume doing JoJo poses

Satan:

-You interrupted his afternoon reading to show him…this??? -Actually it’s okay because it’s hilarious. -Immediately begins brainstorming on how you could use this opportunity to annoy the fuck out of Lucifer hmm… -But you’re also scaring the strays that he smuggled into his room so he’s going to have to ask you to leave </3

Asmo:

-“girl that is NOT a look” -actually it is asmo, you just need to lock in -kind of concerned about the material of the costume, makes sure it’s made with human-skin-safe materials

Beel:

-???? -After the initial confusion he starts giggling uncontrollably. It’s a bit jarring to see the ever-stoic Avatar of Gluttony losing it over a dino costume. -You should make him wear it after you’re done. He’d make a very convincing dino.

Belphie:

-He woke up from his slumber only to be met this this sight. -Genuinely thought he was having a fever dream and tried to bite you -“How do we annoy Lucifer with this?” Pt.2

Solomon:

-He's also wearing one with you -enchants both of your costumes to make them spit fire or something -and now there's two humans dressed up as dinosaurs running around and wreaking havoc in the devildom streets -Barbatos has to drag both of your asses back home

Barbatos:

-speaking of barbatos -feels a headache forming 2.0 -Your antics are slowly beginning to resemble Solomon’s and he’s not a fan -He is mildly amused tho -"Rawr." "A very convincing performance, MC."

Diavolo:

-Is this a human custom he's unaware off? Is this a way of bonding?? -No? Well it should be! It's funny and it made him laugh. Isn't laughter the best way to bond with other fellow beings? -He wants a dino costume too. And you bet he'd play a very good dino, given his towering frame and boisterous laugh. But alas, the prince of Hell has an image to maintain. -Psych! He makes Barbatos buy one for him anyways

Luke:

-Genuinely thought it was a monster coming to attack him when you started running towards him. -Screams and dives to hide behind the nearest person before realising it's you. -He's mad at you for scaring him like that. You feel a strong urge to squish his pouty little face.

Simeon:

-Probably the person Luke hid behind. -He, too, thought you were some weird devildom creature -He’s just happy to see you be comfortable enough around them to be so wonderfully ridiculous -He’s also trailing behind you and Solomon to make sure you both don’t get into too much trouble. Responsible mom™

Thirteen:

-"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA" -MC where did you get this??? She wants one too. -Draws angry little eyebrows on the dino face. -Now there's a giggling dino with tiny inflatable arms being chased down the halls by a reaper trying to vandalize it.

Mephisto:

-GOOD GRIEF, MC. Have you forgotten you’re a representative of the exchange program chosen by Lord Diavolo himself??? Such tomfoolery will only drag his Lord’s reputation down. -(Little does he know his Lord is currently busy trying to figure out how to get his arms into a similar costume.) -Stay 5 kilometres away from him he doesn't want to associate himself with you while you're dressed like THAT. -Wear a Barney costume and say you’re matching and watch him lose his shit.

Raphael:

in the closed, comfortable privacy of his office or your dorms, his kisses are gentle, his lips pressing onto yours almost hesitantly

it’s a soft, reserved, and even unsure touch, but the notion and intention behind it makes up for it

azul’s kisses in these moments can maybe be described as unsteady

he is, of course, very, very new to this whole “relationship” thing, so he’s constantly testing the waters to see your own reactions, trying to base his next moves off of yours

when he feels you return his kisses, just as gentle, he physically relaxes

he’s less restrained, letting his lips move against yours

his kisses becomes less chaste, but still retain all of their gentleness

he plays it off as being a gentleman, but, honestly, he’s just always worried about doing a bit too much at the wrong time

he worries a lot about accidentally making you feel pressured, y’know, cuz of the whole sly swindling businessman thing…

he knows he’s got a reputation preceding him, one that’s maybe not boyfriend material, so to speak

so he’s especially careful with his kisses and touch, particularly earlier in your relationship

the very last thing he wants is for you to question his motivations for dating you

so, for a while, he sticks to the gentle, safe kisses that bring him peace of mind

subconsciously, his personal wants slip through sometimes, as a hand slips to cup your cheek, or a hot blush crosses his cheeks

it doesn’t matter many times you’ve shared kisses or how long you’ve dated, that cute blush never goes away

despite how composed azul thinks he is, his face after you kiss always gives him away

his lips parted, cheeks pink, eyes unfocused, and glasses slipping, it gives him away so quickly

never let the twins see that, they’ll know just how whipped he is

you can always tell when he’s really enjoying the moment just from this, and, after a while of only exchanging the gentle kisses, you finally think to kiss him deeper, letting him know that he shouldn’t hold back nearly as much

kissing him again, you move your lips against his, kissing just slightly deeper than usual

looping your arms around his neck, you pull back, about to ask him how he is, only to find him frozen, face so red and eyes so wide

he’s mentally going through all the reasons you would’ve done this, only to land on the right one: you actually wanted to kiss him, more, deeper, like that

the realization that you do trust him, and that you’re not afraid, it makes warmth flood his body

from that moment on, azul is much more open and free with you and his kisses

the gentleness still remains, of course, that’s just how he is with his partner

now, in his office on break, in your dorms, in the mornings in bed, he’s more sure and confident about kissing you

on slow mornings, when you’re both still waking up, before he’s even put on his glasses, he doesn’t hesitate to press a kiss to your lips and cheeks

while he stills wishes to keep all the kisses behind closed doors, he’s much less afraid of gives you small kisses without reason, just when he feels like it

he particularly loves to press sweet kisses to your temples as you nap in his office, or kiss your fingertips first thing in the morning

he’s always so endlessly gentle with you, not matter the circumstances

the soft ghost of his lips on yours first thing in the morning, the movement of his lips against yours as you share a moment in dorm, the hands so carefully placed on your body, it’s all so soft and sweet, like he’s afraid you’ll slip between his fingers

That was all Carlos needed to hear. What was left of his resolve and chivalry—admittedly already in shreds at the sight of Lando, naked and sweating and pink and so pretty on all fours in his hotel bed—shattered and he shoved his overalls and trousers unceremoniously off his legs before pulling Lando towards the edge of the bed.

“Are you ready?” he asked gruffly, and Lando just scoffed in response.

“D’you want to waste time asking or d’you wanna fu-uck!”

His derision broke off into a cracked moan as Carlos pushed into him, cleaving Lando, any resistance easily overcome by the force of Carlos’ cock. Lando hung his hand, the angles of his back thrown into sharp relief, and Carlos pushed his fingers into his curls to pull him back up.

“No, no, amor,” he whispered, nibbling Lando’s earlobe, hips rocking into Lando. “You don’t hang your head. Not with me.”

“Fuck me,” Lando begged, commanded, and Carlos pushed two fingers into Lando’s mouth as he pounded into him, no quarter given, just fucking his husband into oblivion the way he was asked, the way he was born to do.

It was easy to forget everything when they were like this, when Lando was nothing but a mewling, gasping, sobbing thing in his arms, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the flat of Carlos’ palm, choking on his fingers. He was attuned to Lando, engaged in the singular mission of driving Lando towards orgasm, taking his own pleasure from his husband. And oh, the pleasure: Lando’s asshole tight, desperate around his cock, taking him the way only he could, sucking his fingers when he wasn’t gulping in air, the sinful slap of damp skin against damp skin, until, until–

Carlos bottomed out in Lando and groaned with his orgasm, coming hot and hard in him, hand dragging from Lando’s throat to wrap around his cock. “Come for me,” Carlos murmured, wheeling Lando around to face the nearest mirror. “Look at you. Look at you. Fucking beautiful. Mine. Show me how you come, so pretty for me, eh?”

“Please, please,” Lando wept, his voice thick with it, cheeks flushed, eyelashes glittering. Carlos pushed his fingers deeper into Lando’s mouth, taking a moment to commit this vision to his memory: Carlos mostly clothed behind a nude, shuddering Lando, stroking his cock, his own softening even as it remained inside Lando, and Lando’s face.

“If only they knew,” Carlos whispered into Lando’s ear, stroking, pumping, “if only they knew what I knew: how you, mi campeón, look while I fucking wreck you.”

Lando moaned high and gorgeous as he came into Carlos’ palm, his body arching, head thrown back. Stunning.

“Precioso,” Carlos whispered, gathering Lando into himself as he pulled out, suppressing a shiver of his own. “Mi vida. Venga, cariño.”

Lando made a soft, tired sound as Carlos carried him into the shower. The water came out hot—a blessing—pelting them both with muscle-soothing intensity. They stood in silence, beneath the water, Lando’s face in Carlos’ chest, Carlos lazily working water into Lando’s more stubborn hair, then carefully cleaning Lando’s asshole with gentle, chaste fingers.

Eventually, Lando looked at Carlos. He smiled, his eyes tired. “Better?” he asked, and Carlos took a breath and pressed his forehead against Lando’s.

“So much,” he admitted. “Thank you. I- I needed that.”

“I know you did,” Lando murmured, nuzzling Carlos’ jaw. “I did too but I think you needed it more.”

"Just because he's the prince of Hiberia," Lando said, as calmly as he could while the near-constant buzzing just beneath his skin receded, "doesn't mean he's earned the right to be called the Rising Sun. I mean, the man looks like he's about to pass out from exhaustion!"

"They say he spends most of his nights in training," Alex offered semi-distractedly. He was etching his sword with protective arcana, the swooping pentagrams beset with runic and sacred symbols. "He takes nightly excursions throughout Hiberia, with only one or two trusted friends accompanying him."

Lando's eyes widened. "The king would allow that?" Lando gasped. "He's second in line to the throne! Why would he risk-?"

George shot a knowing look at Lando,who flushed and looked away. He knew all too well how easily the spare might be required to become the heir. "In any case," Lando mumbled, "it feels irresponsible. It feels Hiberian."

"Goddess, but you're a xenophobe sometimes," George muttered, and just as Lando took up his tankard to smack George atop the head for casting such aspersions, three things happened:

First, in his haste to get away from Lando, George jostled Alex, whose thumb grazed the sharp edge of his sword. Alex squawked in dismay, "No, my arcana-!"

Then Lando, George, and Alex stared in horror as the pentagram greedily drank the singular, bright red drop of blood, and activated.

Then, his Grace, the Lord Provost Button of the Fort Silverstone School of Knight Enchanters glided towards them, the hirsute Prince Sir Carlos of Hiberia in tow, and said, "Hail, lads, I wanted to charge you-"

And that was when Alex's sword decided to leap from his hand and jam itself in the rafters.

...or rather, that was what was supposed to happen. There were no splinters falling snowflake-like atop the table. There were no yelps of surprise. There was only one man, one foot planted firmly right beside Lando's thigh, the other right in front of Lando, and in his hand—held aloft like a trophy—was Alex's upstart sword.

Lando stared at him. George stared at him. Alex stared at him. The Lord Provost stared at him.

Prince Sir Carlos looked at the sword in his hand, as if surprised it was there, and then cleared his throat. "Er," he offered apologetically, and George squeaked, "How did you get there so fast?"

"Training," the prince said quickly, and, most surprising of all, his gaze locked with Lando's. Lando's breath hitched: hirsute might have been the first impression, but this man was handsome, more handsome than he had ever seen before: his hair shaggy, eyes golden-brown and wide, lips full, cheeks high, jaw sharp. He looked like a caricature of Hiberian looks, but there was something in his eyes, something different, that brought his looks down to earth. "My apologies," he said to Lando, and Lando's throat worked as he sought to say something, anything. But then the prince cleared his throat against and said, "I-I stepped...stepped in your stew."

Lando looked in front of him. Indeed, the prince's fine leather boot was in his stew. Or, rather, might have been had the bowl not broken beneath his weight.

"Oh," Lando said, and he felt really quite dizzy. "Oh."

Then he scowled up at the prince, his crackling back in full force, and growled, "I was hungry."

What followed was silence: deep and mortified from George; dismayed and distracted from Alex; and- something from the Hiberian prince, but not anger, not offense, not even surprise, just...

Curiosity. Pleasant excitement.

...why was that so obvious to Lando?

"Goddess preserve me," the Lord Provost sighed. "It's going to be a long year."

It wasn’t all bad. After the initial annoyance, Lando remembered, as always, that he was asleep beside his husband. He burrowed closer to Carlos, leeching some of the warmth from his body, sighing as even in sleep Carlos seemed to lean into him. Through his heavy eyelids, he took in the sight of his love and wondered, for the millionth time, how Carlos came to love him.

Not that he would say that aloud. Carlos needed to stay humble. And that had nothing to do with the cloud of frustration that would descend on Carlos’ face if Lando ever doubted his own capacity to be loved.

It didn’t matter. Carlos was here, Carlos was Lando’s, and Carlos was…

Fuck, Carlos was…

Lando thought back to the night before. A couple of drinks, not too many, but just enough to get them flirting in public, just enough for Lando to start touching Carlos’ chest, enough for Carlos to graze Lando’s side, enough that, after a moment’s consultation, Charles and Alex came by with the, “Shouldn’t you both go back now?” signal. They hadn’t known that was how badly they were gone; not for the drinks, but for each other, and Lando could remember now the way Carlos crowded him, his foot between Lando’s feet, slowly moving Lando backwards and backwards until Lando was against a wall, and they were grinning and laughing and looking at each other with eyes that could not lie, with a proximity that would have belied their eyes anyway.

Everyone knew. Even Logan did, at this point, though it took him a second to realize how deep it went. But that still didn’t mean they could– well, it would have been inappropriate regardless. But still.

And then they got back to their hotel room. Or, rather, and then they got into the elevator. Lando was on Carlos in a moment, their lips eager together as Lando furiously unbuttoned buttons, ran his hands over Carlos’ chest, let Carlos shove his hands down Lando’s pants and squeeze his ass with a roughness that promised so much. He was in Carlos’ arms by the time the elevator door opened, and it was a miracle that they found their hotel room, but it was an old miracle. They always found their hotel room.

Once there, Lando pushed down Carlos’ jeans, pushed down his underwear, wrapped his lips around Carlos’ cock and moaned with Carlos. It wasn’t long before Carlos was fucking his face, groaning Lando’s name, groaning praise for Lando, praising his perfect little mouth, begging Lando to open his throat a little more, yes, Lando, perfect, always perfect, and Lando, perfect Lando, would never let Carlos down. When Carlos came, it was at the base of Lando’s tongue, and Lando knew his throat would hurt in the morning and he was glad.

There was no pause, nothing. Carlos lifted Lando up again, deposited him onto the bed with a tenderness that never left his body, and seared his skin with kisses. Lando gasped, panted, reached for Carlos, but Carlos was determined to kiss all of him. When he was satisfied, he asked Lando to turn onto his stomach. Lando did, shaking, and when he felt the cool, wet touch of the plug, he was surprised. He had expected Carlos’ fingers, was almost devastated at the lack—but then Carlos lifted Lando’s hips, wrapped his hand around Lando’s cock, took hold of the base of the plug, and told Lando to come for him.

It was altogether too much. It was altogether not enough. Carlos worked him open with the plug while he stroked Lando’s cock, and even still he praised, while Lando, incoherent and sobbing, just bucked his hips and babbled pleas. He wanted Carlos deeper. He wanted Carlos to never stop. He felt the pressure mount, higher and higher, and when he came into Carlos’ hand he was rewarded immediately.

“Hermoso,” Carlos whispered, and the plug was out. “Mi esposo,” Carlos whispered, pulling Lando up, cradling him close so that Lando’s back was against Carlos’ chest. And from there, it just took a, “Mi Lando…fuck,” as Carlos pushed inside him, and Lando’s head fell back against Carlos’ shoulder. He was overwrought, sensitive, but Carlos’ cock was all he had wanted that night, and he had it, and he was not going to squander it just because–

It was the morning after again. Carlos stirred, and Lando realized his kisses against Carlos’ back had grown feverish, needy, that his half-hard cock was against Carlos’ hip, that he had been grinding. He froze, embarrassed, but when Carlos spoke, Lando heard the grin.

“Happy birthday to me, eh?” Carlos ventured, sleep in his voice, and Lando laughed.

“Not yet.”

“It is still August?” Carlos asked, and he turned onto his side. His face carried deep lines from the pillow, and his hair was rumpled so immaculately it might have been on purpose. But it wasn’t and Lando wanted him even more for that. He was smiling, the smile that was just for Lando, and Lando’s core tightened.

“Still August. Still got a whole day,” Lando said. Carlos made a disapproving noise. Then, he gathered Lando into his arms, and Lando sighed embarrassingly. “I do not like August,” Carlos said flatly.

“Oh yeah? Why not?”

Carlos’ hand stroked Lando’s back, followed his spine down to his tailbone, then lower. Parting Lando’s ass cheeks with thumb and index, ring and pinky, Carlos pressed his middle finger to Lando’s asshole. Lando bucked and moaned; his cock was right against Carlos’. He couldn’t tell his own hardness from Carlos’.

“It is too long of a month,” Carlos complained, pushing his finger into Lando’s asshole. Lando gasped and threw his head back. Carlos took advantage of the situation and kissed Lando’s neck, soft and hot. “First, no racing. Then, I don’t see you for much of it. Then, I am waiting for my birthday. Two 31-day months in a row. A joke.”

This matter-of-fact appraisal of August did little to lessen Lando’s moans. Carlos’ finger was thrusting into him, seeking, seeking, and when it found his prostate, Lando wailed and clung to Carlos.

“So,” Carlos said, and he turned Lando again so Lando was on his back. He pulled his finger out and pressed it to Lando’s mouth. Lando took it eagerly, sucking Carlos’ finger, letting Carlos press it down his tongue, into his throat. Then, he watched as Carlos took it into his own mouth, his eyes on Lando. “We will pretend,” he continued, “that it is September first.”

“And tomorrow?” Lando panted, so hard that it hurt. Carlos grinned, wrapped Lando’s legs around his waist, and pressed the head of his cock to Lando’s asshole. Lando arched, nodding desperately, speechless.

“Tomorrow will be September first again,” Carlos said. He pushed into Lando with a deep sigh; Lando threw his head back, crying out at the feeling of Carlos stretching him, cleaving him. “But it will be a Friday. And I can’t have this tomorrow.”

“Then have me now,” Lando begged, cupping Carlos’ cheeks. “Have me now, fuck, please, do whatever you want. Have me fucking now.”

Carlos smiled, and it was so sweet that Lando might have done anything if Carlos had just asked.