#solomon x reader

Diavolo learnt from your erotic interest in demonic traits out of Lucifer’s drunken mouth.

They were deep in their third bottle of Demonus, stammering about who knows what already, when his friend finally decided to comment on what had been going on in the House of Lamentation, face covered in a nice flush and eyes closed, reliving the memories.

To say that Diavolo was immediately filled with jealousy is an understatement. 

Mind you, he had always been jealous of the brothers in general, but it was mostly of their childishness and the freedom that allowed them to be occasionally immature. Lately, though, his thoughts had been completely interrupted by the constant reminder of how close the relationship between you all is, and how they’re able to be and coexist with you, and share your time and your space equally.

So to suddenly hear his best friend dreamily explain the shift in your relationship? To be forced to imagine the charged stares and the desperate, exploring touches? There was nothing he could do but flash a practiced, PR approved, grin and hum every now and then for the rest of their hangout.

And there was nothing else he could think about ever since then, especially if he happened to cross paths with you at RAD.

He notices now, more than ever, the differences between you two. In his opinion, your humanity has always been one of your most attractive features: the strength to be kind and forgiving, the finality in your decisions, which gives significance to your mortal life; the free will to give every silly thing a meaning... It’s very intriguing, and he never felt any shame declaring how much he loved them, even if it isn’t in his nature to fully understand it.

However, your humanity has taken a different connotation lately.

See…

You are so, so small.

How didn’t he notice before? How didn’t he notice just how much bigger than you he is? Nevermind the average height and weight for a human woman, he still gets to surpass you in every way; making you tilt your head up to maintain eye contact, granting you permission to use his body as a cover if you wish to hide from the brothers’ demands, and even engulfing your hand in his whenever he manages to score a dance with you at parties.

He is sure he could just… manoeuvre you around without using that much force. Hug the curves of your waist with a single hand to pull you closer until he can’t differentiate your heat from his and set the pace with nothing but the muscles in his arms and your compliance; shield you from the outside world with his body alone and let you scratch your impatience away on his back; open your legs with the width of his horns and stay there as long as he pleases, drenching his sheets in drool and everything your body can offer.

He may control himself against temptation better than any other demon (he is set to be king, after all), but he is still a demon. He’ll take you with him to madness. He’ll take you to a blubbering mess. He’ll take you.

Obviously, he had previously noticed you staring at him, but he’d thought it was sheer interest and fascination. A human admiring a sinful creature with curiosity.

Now that you’re alone with him in his office, though, he notices that you’re not wearing pantyhose under the uniform skirt: you’re wearing thigh stockings. The elastic looks uncomfortable on your skin, but all he’s seeing is the fat tissue protruding ever so slightly, begging his fingers to dug in and squeeze.

He wonders, once he finally looks up and finds your waiting gaze, how didn’t he notice you flirting with him all along.

Barbatos was present when Lucifer got to the point of no return and openly confessed his addiction to your body, so he does, too, now, observe you in ways he never did before.

Suffice to say, he’s mostly amused about the whole situation.

While a demon’s appearance is meant to fit the beauty standards of the human realm, innocent souls will sometimes contain an unfiltered urge to be intimate with true monsters. Horns, wings and tails are the standard, but succubi and incubi’s official reports have described fur, size differences, fanged mouths with serpentine tongues, clawed paws, tentacles, and, amongst many others, modified genitalia.

As a friend, you’ll need to forgive him, but, as a demon, it’s impossible not to wonder which one of those fantasies is the one that keeps you awake at night. Do you get aroused with the idea of feeling dwarfed by your partner, like you would with the Young Lord? Is it exciting to ignore fear and show your bare body to Beelzebub’s drooling mouth? Or perhaps you’re one of those people who thinks Levi shares more with snakes than he does with humans?

For the sake of decency and his own politeness, he won’t discuss any of this with you (although since the brothers discovered everything on accident to begin with and Lucifer was drunk when he spilled his guts, Barbatos has no business knowing anything anyway). He’ll keep your friendship untainted, and only tease you ever so subtly; enough to raise a bit of suspicion, but not to directly ask him about it, like standing right behind you when there’s a crowd and letting his breath kiss your nape.

Of course, he is also curious about what could you possibly find attractive about him specifically, given that he’s a peculiar demon, but he fears the answer would be disappointing. He has no horns on his head, but bony, feeble wings instead, and although his forked tail may look seducing at first, it isn’t that much comfortable to play with; it’s wet to the touch and incredibly sensitive, but not in a good way.

It doesn’t even occur to him that your attraction towards demons could expand beyond scales, horns and pointy wings.

He doesn’t consider that idea until he’s opening a portal to the human realm for you to visit your loved ones and you suddenly stop to take one long look at him, at the buzzing edges of the portal and the rigid, yet precise position of his fingers: the three longest stuck together in the air. He looks at you back, perplexed, but you’re only grinning coyly at whatever’s crossing your mind.

“So you can open portals to anywhere you want, right?” you ask, slowly crossing the glossy magical entrance with one hand, as if tasting the feeling on your naked skin. The observation catches his interest, and he nods with a cautious smile. “No matter the size of the space?”

Your breath hitches for just a second after you ask the question, but it’s enough to alter his breath as well. His mind stumbles to go wherever you’re thinking, ultimately failing, and the portal falters almost imperceptibly on the process.

“As long as my hand can pass, I suppose” he ends up saying, trying to maintain his composure. However, you lighten up at his words, and the realization of what you’re actually asking hits him like a train. He notices himself gasp and flush, but doesn’t say anything else, wishing to see how far you’ll go with your curiosity.

“And you can open the portal on any surface?” you keep on asking, taking a step closer in a nonchalant manner despite the implied filth coming out of your mouth. “Say… on cloth?” His imagination pushes him to lower his gaze, directly towards your hips, and you sway them playfully in response.

“I’ve never had a valid reason to open such a portal; besides, I’m afraid Lord Diavolo needs to grant me permission to use my powers” he reminds you, and the slight disappointment in your expression doesn’t escape him. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t feel it too.

Sadly, you leave after that, blowing him a kiss before disappearing through the portal, but your suggestion remains with him for longer than he’d ever admit out loud to anyone other than you.

He can’t ask the Young Lord permission for something like that, can he? Something so frivolous and selfish, and so out of character from him. And even if he gets said permission, he can’t go and open a portal in your… underwear! Without letting you know, no less!

He just can’t…

…can he?

Seeing hickeys covering the smoothness of Asmo’s neck and clavicles shouldn’t have raised any interest in him. To be clear: it wouldn’t have done so at any other point in time or in any other context, but he isn’t called Solomon the Wise for nothing. He is observant; and observe he did.

He isn’t the only one who’s shamelessly infatuated with you (he wasn’t even the first one to reach that point of attraction), so seeing Asmo and his brothers scramble their way into impressing you or getting your attention lost its amusing factor pretty early on. It was still fun to witness sometimes, don’t get him wrong, but there were times when he couldn’t help but see himself in their hopeless faces, wondering when you’d see their feelings, or if you’d ever see them at all.

And if you were so oblivious to your roommates, then how would you ever notice your teacher, who found it so hard to hang out with you?

Besides, watching the brothers monopolize your time so easily always sent a wave of something awful and wicked through his body. Not only did they live with you, but they also shared meals and even beds on occasion; would it kill them to let you go for a few hours during classes?

Sadly, there would be no comfort for his jealousy other than your undivided presence; and since there was no way he’d get you alone with him any time soon…

Yeah, he’d rather observe just you and ignore the rest.

And, lately, he’s found various discriminating changes.

Ha saw a flustered expression where there used to be none, longing stares under your eyelashes that could burn a man alive, sinuous shapes in the movement of your hips comparable to Asmodeus’s hypnotizing charm, an extra open button above your breasts, remains of a masculine scent trailing behind you, hands disappearing under your desk whenever you sat next to one of the brothers…

Hickeys on Asmo’s skin.

Solomon is wise and observant, and he’s quick to learn. He knows how to put two and two together.

So another change takes place.

It comes out of nowhere, and it gets on your nerves extremely quickly.

Your sharp-witted, mysterious teacher, one of the most powerful sorcerers in the three realms, suddenly starts to just… sigh really loudly around you. Like an abandoned dog or a female lead in one of those cloyingly romantic novels, your demon-like human friend became annoying and dramatic very out of the blue.

Now, whenever you go to his lab for scheduled lessons, he sits by the windows and stares at the streets with what you suspect is forced heartbreak. If you have lunch with him and any of the brothers and you let them feed you, he sighs obnoxiously, until whoever is trying to be romantic with you drops the fork and side-eyes him.

He doesn’t look amused; he doesn’t look truly sad… It’s almost like defeat.

Curiosity is killing you by the time you reach Purgatory Hall, and it gives you a reason not to feel deranged when you pound on the door repeatedly. Simeon and Luke aren’t home anyway (you made sure of that), and it isn’t like they have any neighbours, so you’d only be bothering Solomon, which, depending on why he’s been acting like a Victorian widow, he probably deserves or not.  

Of course, once he opens the door, he sighs pitifully and drops his gaze, which is enough for you to push him back inside and close the door behind you; no regrets.

You expect him to act in an even more melodramatic manner in response, maybe surprised or hurt, but he seems elated. He’s breathing heavily, showing a wide grin that doesn’t match his previous behaviour, while grabbing your wrist to keep your hand on his chest.

He says he’s been lonely, left behind, feeling at a disadvantage; but now you’re alone with him, in his house. There’s no one to take you away from him, no one to demand your attention and no one for him to fight for your affections. He may not be a demon, but he never needed to be one. Do you know how much he can do with magic? He can soundproof the room, take away your senses until there’s nothing else to feel but his touch, silence you, bound you… Hell, he can lend you his powers again and let you put him at your mercy.

He’ll let you do anything as long as it’s just you and him.

He won’t let the brothers get in the way.

Simeon is at a loss of words. He doesn’t know what’s happening and he isn’t sure if he wants to know.

Ever since he first met you, the unresolved feelings between you and the brothers had been a well-known secret; something everyone was aware of, but didn’t dare say out loud. Watching you be kind, patient and courageous in the Devildom, only to receive their hopeless pinning in response, had become something as natural as breathing air or sleeping. It was endearing, and maybe a bit embarrassing to watch on occasion, but it simply was.

Perhaps it was natural for the brothers, too, to feel that way. The last time he saw them so happy and satisfied in their lives was back when they were all angels, before the war and their sister’s death. Her loss left them broken and bitter, and, although you clearly aren’t a substitute sister for them to cope, your presence has made an obvious impact in their lives.

And Simeon can understand that.

He can see you have a good soul, and your determination to remain close to your humanity in the world you were thrown to was a key element in your success during the school year. You’re brave and you stand your ground, but you don’t go looking for brawls, or at least he hopes you don’t, and you defend the weak when they’re vulnerable. Levi wasn’t far off when he began naming you Henry; you are a hero.

Of course he can understand how his former brothers fell in love with you.

What he doesn’t understand is exactly when everything started to change.

They still long for you, that much is obvious, but they’re so much bolder now, and it looks like you reciprocate their advances. They whisper in your ear when there’s no need for silence, and you scoop closer; you play with their hands during long lectures, and they play with your hair in return. Even Lucifer, who cares about appearances more than anyone, once got close enough to speak directly against your lips, and whatever he said to you at the moment was too tantalizing for you not to close the distance and pull him into an empty classroom. There was no one in the halls, sure, but still.

Embarrassingly enough, Simeon left wishing to hear what was said, although he had a vague idea.

He tried asking Lucifer himself about it, but he got defensive. The only thing he said, albeit arrogantly, was that you liked him as a demon, and anything else between you was none of Simeon’s business, which was a fair thing to say, he must admit.

However, seeing both the carnal desperation in your eyes and you seizing the opportunity to satisfy it, really did change something in him.

And since he can’t really control himself when it comes to you, he goes ahead and asks you directly, taking advantage of a free evening where Luke is with Barbatos and Solomon is with Asmo.

He starts the conversation with pure curiosity, asking whether or not you’re finally dating his former brother. He saw you kissing at RAD, so there’s definitely something between you, right? He just wants to know; as a friend, obviously. He only wants the best for you, and seeing Lucifer happy after such a long time brings peace to his heart.

You chuckle at that, however, and that’s when you explain what actually happened since the very beginning. The otome game ad, the flirtatious ambience in the House of Lamentation, the tension finally breaking between you and the brothers… You look embarrassed talking about everything out loud, but there’s a softer edge in your voice; something appreciative seeping through the incriminating words.  

You thank him for his understanding, and he feels his cheeks get warm.

Then you subtly change the subject, and it becomes obvious to him that your shame got lost amongst the demons a long time ago.

“Hey, I just realized I’ve never seen your angel form” you say; and it could be such an interesting, innocent concept to talk about if not for what brought him to invite you for tea in the first place.

He has an angel form, which he rarely displays. He has wings and a halo, and a golden armour that would leave you blind, but he isn’t particularly proud of it. Back then, when he was a seraph, he used to have multiple sets of wings and infinite eyes hidden under the feathers. He was monstrous, and glorious, and eternal.

He failed then, and it cost him his position in the hierarchy.

If he sinned… If he fell to temptation…

He stops himself, trying not to think about the darkness in your eyes when you kissed Lucifer in the hallway, or about your shoe riling up the hem of his pants right now. He tries not to think about his infinite eyes, who wouldn’t have let you go out of his sight. Forever under his attention, would you have felt overwhelmed?

You overwhelm him.

You’d make a fallen angel look majestic.

He tries not to think about it, but, in the end… he knows it’s worth it.

.

.

He buries his face into your shoulder, heaving heavily. Though he tried his best to fight it and remain composed, ever the prideful demon, the effects of the Gold Hellfire Newt Syrup were just far too powerful. Desire made his body burn. His head was starting to feel foggy and with all the blood rushing south, he felt dizzy.

“Y/n—“ your name on his tongue sounds like a silent plea.

“Lucifer, let me help you,” you say as you climb into his lap. You let your hips rock against his, feeling the thick bulge of his erection press against your cunt, eliciting a low moan from the demon. His body works against him, grinding up against you on its own accord, the friction doing little to soothe the ache he felt for you. You trace your hand down his chest, slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt when he stops you.

“The only way to quell the syrup’s effects… is by completing…” Lucifer groans, letting out a shaky breath before continuing, “an order given by the one the demon has a pact with.”

“Then Lucifer—“ you pull the demon close by his necktie. You note the way his eyes flicker downward toward your lips before back at your eyes. He swallows thickly, face growing more and more red. “Fuck me until you get it out of your system. That's an order.”

And comply to the order he does.

Under the effects of the aphrodisiac, every thing feels different.

An intensity that prickles every nerve in his body making him that much more sensitive when he finally slides his leaky cock through your gummy walls. Everything about you was intoxicating, from how your cunt dripped with your own arousal to your needy moans that further stirred up the desire pooling within his core.

"Lucifer!" You whimper. Feeling the swell of his cock fill you to the brim had your toes curling. It's as if the aphrodisiac made him suddenly bigger, so deep you were on the verge of seeing stars.

"This--ugh, fuck," Lucifer swears. His hips snap against yours, setting an unforgiving pace that makes the bed creak in response. And for once, his carefully maintained composure begins to break down. "Fuck, feels so good," the demon groans. Your walls flutter around him, making him hiss through his teeth. His body falters, cock throbbing. "Shit--hah--Scratch that you feel absolutely divine, and I'm going to ravish every inch of you."

♥︎ —satan

It was an accident. Satan truly didn't mean for you to get wrapped up in this mess. It was only a slight error in the incantation, but it had been drastic enough that it turned a simple charm into a full scale aphrodisiac, which lead to your current predicament.

“Fuck—hah—sorry sweetheart,” Satan pants, groaning at the way you clench around him while seated in his lap. “Didn’t mean for this to happen." His hands roam your body, gripping your hips as he tried to ground himself. You tremble at his touch, gasps leaving your lips.

"I-it's okay," you stammer. "It was an accident."

It was almost painful how hard he got so quickly from the spell. Lust clouded his mind in an instant, and his clothes became so restrictive that he couldn't think of anything besides taking them off and feeling your sweet pussy. There was no fighting it, as the more he tried to suppress his desires, the stronger it burned through his body until he was sure he would cum his pants from the thought of you alone.

The spell however seemed to have as equal as an effect on you, and it boasted the prideful demon's ego to find you wet and aching for him when he took your panties off.

"L-let me read the book to see if there's a way to dispel--" He chokes on his words as a wave of pleasure races through his veins. His hips jerk up. Fuck, how he wanted to move. He thought cockwarming would just be enough, but so far it hadn't sedated any his need for you. If anything, being nestled within your gooey walls made the heat in his stomach burn more.

"Satan, please," you babble. Satan stands from his chair, sloppily pressing his lips against yours in a needy kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist in attempts to force his cock deeper, making Satan groan at the erotic squelch as your pussy clings to him. "S'not enough. Need more of you."

"You need more?" The demon chuckles.

His nails dig into your thighs, your bodies pressed flush against each other as Satan has you held against the book shelf in his room, dragging his cock in and out of your wet cunt teasingly slow. The sweltering heat soaked through your bones, making every nerve in your body stand on edge and your sensitive nipples pebble into stiff peaks which Satan playfully toys with until you're shivering from desire.

"Well," Satan muses, "likely, the only way to mitigate the spell's effects is for it to run through our systems. So, please indulge me for a bit, love."

♥︎ —solomon

“I-it appears the potion was more potent than I thought,” Solomon chuckles breathlessly. Red flushed his cheeks. His body already began feeling the potion’s effects, sending heat coursing through him. “H-how are you feeling love?”

“O-okay…” you stammer. Electricity spread through your entire nervous system pooling all in the middle of your legs, making you grow antsy and needy. The beat of your heart continued to quicken, leaving you breathless as desire lidded your eyes with lust. "It feels strange."

The two of you had decided to take an aphrodisiac together, just for the fun of changing things up. Solomon found a potion recipe in one of his old spell books, but the concoction turned out to be rather strong. Its effects were almost instant.

"Don't be nervous," Solomon reassures. He carefully lays you down into the plush pillows of your shared bed, laying down next to you. "I've got you."

His rough palms skim up your waist, gently squeezing your skin in what meant to be comforting, but only sent prickles through your sensitive body. Wrapping his arms around your midsection, Solomon pulls you into his chest allowing him ample access to your naked folds.

"Solomon~" you moan, keening against his touch. Solomon groans as you press against his stiff cock, it leaking beads of precum. He trails kisses down the side of your neck, sucking and abusing your collarbone while his fingers tease the folds of your cunt, collecting your wetness on them. He spreads your legs wider to allow two digits to prod your entrance.

"You feel so soft," Solomon mumbles. He pressed his fingers deeper, curling them slightly until they touch where you’re most sensitive. You gasp, back arching as a low string of whines leaves your lips. His thumb finds your clit, tracing the nerves with slow, tantalizing movements that have you seeing stars.

"Solomon, please," you whine. "I need you so badly." Solomon grins, smiling against your shoulder as you grind back against his cock.

"I-like seeing you needy like this," he chuckles. Lifting up one of your legs, he eases his cock into your cunt, groaning as he slips through with ease. The feeling of your tight hole finally clamping around him made Solomon want to cum again on the spot. Did you always feel this good or was it just the aphrodisiac making his cock feel more sensitive?

I know demons are virtually the same as humans canonically, but I’ve always wanted to explore the brothers’ reactions to human things MC does, whether it’s a sneeze or a bruise or getting sick… And, well, here we are.

This won’t be canon compliant. This is set to take place sometime after Episode 15 and all seven brothers are included. The reader’s race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used**. There’s one bit where they’re stated to wear glasses & another where they had braces and currently wear retainers. But I feel like that’s a pretty easy thing to imagine, so… yeah!

**The reader is referred to with it/its pronouns once in Belphegor's snippet—skip reading it if it bothers you. i use these pronouns so i wrote that mostly for me 🤘

“Darling, what is that ghastly thing?” Asmodeus asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

“What thing?” you frown. The two of you are sitting in his bedroom, sprawled across his bed as you talk about stupid things. Asmodeus had been ranting about something when his eyes locked on something near you with startling focus. 

“This!” he says, pointing at your forearm. 

You follow his gaze, finding a spot of slightly discolored skin halfway down your arm. “Oh,” you say, “It’s just a bruise.” 

“A bruise?” Asmodeus repeats, his nose scrunched in confusion. 

“You know, a bruise,” you repeat. There’s nothing close to comprehension on his face. “...A contusion or whatever?” …Still nothing.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” the demon frowns. “And wow, is it unsightly.” Asmodeus remarks, disgust passing over his face before intrigue takes over it. He leans over you, before proceeding to poke at your skin curiously.  

“Ow, Asmo—” you hiss, batting his hand away. You don’t put much strength behind the gesture, but Asmodeus goes along with it anyway and removes his hand.  

“It hurts?” he then blinks owlishly. 

“Yes,” you say, letting your arm fall back to your side.  

Asmodeus shakes his head in disbelief. “Humans are so weird.” 

It’s late at night and you need to refill your glass of water. You’re tiredly walking out to the kitchen when a sudden noise breaks through the silence. 

“Hey.”

You inhale sharply, fear coursing through you until you recognize the familiar voice. “Holy shit, Beel,” you murmur, placing your hand on your chest momentarily and squinting through the darkness. You can only see the general outline of his form. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Beelzebub says. You think he must be frowning now. Again, it’s difficult to tell. “I thought you saw me.”

“Um…” you squint again. “No.” 

“Oops,” he says. You hear a light shuffling sound. “Can you see me now?” he asks. 

You blink again. “Sort of.”

Suddenly he’s standing right in front of you. You can’t suppress a flinch this time, instinctually leaning backwards. 

“Beel, stop that—!” you exclaim, nearly stumbling over yourself. 

He sets you straight with a hand on your shoulder, a frown rising on his face. “You can’t see in the dark, then?” Beelzebub hums.

“No,” you sigh. It’s as if he didn’t believe you—like he had to test it for himself to make sure. 

“Hmph,” Beelzebub frowns again. Or, at least, it sounds like he’s frowning. “That’s inconvenient.”

“I guess,” you concede. 

“What’s wrong with your skin?” Belphegor asks you one morning, when the two of you are relaxing in his room. 

“Hm?” you blink, momentarily distracted from looking down at your D.D.D.

“Your skin,” he restates. “Look,” he demands, pointing down at your forearm. You follow the demon’s gaze, only to find goosebumps scattered across your skin. 

“Oh, those are just goosebumps,” you answer casually. 

“Goose… bumps,” Belphegor repeats, his nose scrunched in evident revulsion. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m not sure why they’re called that, but they show up on your skin if you get too cold.”

“Well, stop being cold,” Belphegor orders, as if you’re inconveniencing him. He probably thinks you are, although it’s entirely out of your control. You hardly have a chance to react before you’re promptly pelted in the face with a sweatshirt. “Here.” 

“Oof,” you say, peeling it off the crown of your head and putting it on. “Thanks, Belphie.”

“Shut up,” he murmurs. There’s a hint of pink rising on the back of his neck, as if he’s embarrassed. “Stupid human. Can’t even keep itself warm.” He huffs. You valiantly ignore the remark. 

“Why are there teeth in the bathroom?” Levi asks as he enters the room. And wow, what a way to make an entrance. Satan and you look over at Levi from where you’d been reading. 

“What?” Satan blinks questioningly, clearly just as confused as you are.

“Teeth,” Levi repeats himself, “in the bathroom.” 

How he expects the same exact remark to make more sense, you have no idea. It takes you a few moments to connect the dots, but you do eventually. “Oh!” you exclaim. “Those are just my retainers.”

“Your retainers,” Satan repeats. There’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “And what do they retain, exactly?” he asks sardonically. You scoff. 

“My teeth,” you respond. “Obviously,” you add, if only to combat his sarcasm. 

“So… what do you do with them?” Levi asks curiously, tilting his head as he looks at you. 

“I wear them every night when I sleep,” you explain. “They’re supposed to prevent my teeth from shifting.”

“Your teeth shift?” Satan exclaims incredulously. “You mean they can move?” 

“Um— yes,” you respond. “Human teeth always move, even after a person has braces.”

“What are braces?” Levi demands. 

“They’re metal brackets that an orthodontist puts on your teeth when they’re crooked. They guide the teeth into a more neat shape.” 

“I’m convinced you just made that up,” Satan says helpfully. 

You roll your eyes. “I had braces. But since my teeth can still move, I have to wear the retainers.”

“For how long?” Levi blinks. 

“The rest of my life.”

Satan whistles. “That sucks.”

You shrug amicably. 

“And I thought normies were weird,” Levi huffs. “But humans are even weirder.”

“Hey, wait: how’d you even see my retainers in the first place?” you realize aloud. “I always keep them in a case… in a drawer.” You wouldn’t just leave them on the counter—that would be pretty unsanitary. 

As if caught in a lie, Levi freezes and quickly bolts away. “Gotta go shower, bye—!” he says, slamming the bathroom door shut with more force than necessary. 

You stare after him in disbelief, an incredulous laugh bubbling up from your throat. 

“He was just curious,” Satan explains with a shrug. “Not that I blame him. Do your teeth truly keep growing?”

“Not growing, necessarily,” you contemplate. “Babies are born with baby teeth. Then, as you get older, you lose your baby teeth as your adult teeth grow in.”

“That’s similar to demons,” Satan confirms. 

“Our teeth eventually stop growing, but they can shift and move still,” you clarify. 

Satan shakes his head in annoyed disbelief. “Humans are truly an anomaly.”

You’re sorting through paperwork with Lucifer when you accidentally slide your fingertip against the corner of a page. “Ow,” you say instinctually, more out of reflex than genuine pain. 

“Are you alright?” Lucifer asks, looking up from his papers for the first time since you started this task.

“Oh, yeah,” you wave his concern off. “Just got a paper cut.” You squint down at your finger and grit your teeth in annoyance. You’re so concentrated that you don’t know Lucifer’s pensive silence or furrowed brows. 

“A….. paper cut,” he restates, a mix of bemusement and concern in his voice. 

“You don’t get those?” you ask. 

“You got hurt by a piece of paper,” Lucifer says incredulously. Suddenly he’s getting to his feet and striding over to you, taking your hand in his and investigating your fingertip. “Hm. You weren’t joking. How strange.”

He continues to study your skin with a frightening intensity. Your hand is almost shaking in his grip, as you attempt to fight off your restlessness at his proximity. Eventually Lucifer sighs and lets his grip fall away. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” you admit. “Paper cuts are just a minor inconvenience… But for whatever reason, they can really hurt sometimes. Feels like your skin is splitting apart.” They really shouldn’t hurt, but they do. One time, you had one that spanned your entire fingertip. This one doesn’t look nearly as bad, fortunately. But it still burns. 

“You’re rather breakable,” the Avatar of Pride notes. 

“It’s just a paper cut,” you feel the need to say defensively.

“Of course,” Lucifer responds, an indulgent and amused smile on his face. There’s a knowing smirk on his face and you roll your eyes, abandoning the argument. 

Solomon and you often get stuck accompanying one another to the human realm whenever you need anything. The demon realm is great, but it doesn’t have everything humans need. Besides, sometimes it’s nice to breathe in some fresh air or be among other humans. 

Today’s visit has a purpose, though. After a rather unfortunate incident involving Mammon, you, and a chandelier, you find yourself with broken glasses. (Thanks, Mammon.) It’s been roughly a year since you’ve had an eye exam, so it’s about time for another appointment anyways. Unfortunately, the Devildom doesn’t have eye doctors (and you still remember the perplexed look on Levi’s face when you casually asked him one day). That’s how you find yourself in your ophthalmologist’s office in the human realm. Solomon dropped you off with the promise that he’d return the moment you texted, leaving you to slowly waste away in the waiting room. 

Fortunately, your name is finally called and you’re able to undergo all of the various examinations. You emerge an hour later with dilated pupils, an updated prescription, and reassurance from the doctor that nothing is amiss. You manage to text Solomon—through slightly blurred vision—and he arrives within five minutes. 

You can only hope to slip into the manor unnoticed. But from the very moment you slip through the front doors, Mammon is bounding up to you like an overexcited puppy. He seems moments away from looping an arm around you and dragging you off into some misguided adventure when he locks eyes with you and freezes. 

“Whoa, what the hell—?” Mammon exclaims, staring at you intently. “Oi, human, don’t tell me ya got possessed—!” His hands clamp on your shoulders and he starts shaking you roughly. 

“Mammon, stop it,” you object, grabbing onto his shoulders and attempting to prevent him from shaking you any harder. He calms down a little, but he still looks confused. “I’m not possessed. I just had an appointment with an eye doctor.”

“Well, how’d they screw up so bad then, huh?” he spits. In another situation, his concern would be touching; but now, it’s mostly just amusing. “Ya look like a shark!”

“It’s just one of the tests,” you explain. “They had to dilate my pupils.” 

“Humans are crazy,” Mammon asserts. He’s studying you from far too close—occasionally changing his angle as if it will somehow give him new insight. “You look so freaky.”

“Thanks, Mammon,” you sigh. 

“Does it hurt?” he asks. “I bet it does; yer such a baby.” The insult seems to be a cover-up for his concern. 

“It doesn’t really hurt,” you reassure him. “It just feels a little strange. The drops really just affect your vision. I can’t focus on things in front of me, and it sort of looks like I’m seeing double.”

“Well, there’s nothing for it but resting your eyes,” Mammon sighs theatrically, looping an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s watch the next episode of Destroyman.”

“How is that supposed to help my eyes?” you ask skeptically. 

“Hey, I’ve been waiting for ya all day!” Mammon exclaims. “We’re watching the next episode, even if it looks all blurry to you.” The demon is soon yanking you along before you can object. 

“There’s the culprit,” Belphegor remarks, looking up at you as you enter the dining room for breakfast. The brothers are staring at you intently. 

“Good morning to you too,” you huff, shoving your hands in the pockets of your uniform and taking the empty seat at the table. It’s a bit unusual to see all seven brothers at the table like this, especially so early in the morning. “What’d I do?” you blink cluelessly. 

“You don’t remember?” Beel pipes up, blinking at you curiously. He seems to be mid-bite, with some food hanging out of his mouth. Lucifer chides him for table manners and Beel huffs, promptly demolishing the rest of his food. 

“You were roaming the halls in the middle of the night like a ghost!” Mammon explains before anyone else can. He sounds particularly energetic this morning. “It was freaky.”

Roaming the halls at night? You don’t remember doing that, which can only mean one thing. “Oh, I was probably just sleepwalking,” you realize aloud. 

“Wonders truly never cease,” Lucifer says dryly. “Just how many eccentricities do humans possess?” he muses. 

You sigh, remembering all of the strange interactions you’ve had over the past few weeks. “I’m not choosing to do any of this, you know,” you frown. “I can’t control it.” It’s not like you wanted to get a paper cut, or a bruise, or goosebumps. These are just facts of life. 

“We know, dear,” Asmo reassures you. 

“It’s okay,” Levi says, barely sparing you a glance as he stares down at his plate. “None of these human behaviors are super annoying.” That’s very meaningful coming from Levi of all demons. 

“They’re just weird,” Satan supplies helpfully. You roll your eyes at him. 

“It seems my brothers were just… worried,” Lucifer explains. 

“Hey, you were worried too!” Mammon objects. “You were the one to—” Whatever the Avatar of Greed means to say next promptly fades into obscurity, as Lucifer sends his younger brother a murderous glare to silence him. 

“Okay,” you eventually remark, uncomfortable with the sudden tension settling in the room. “Well, sorry to disturb you guys, I guess. Sleepwalking is normal for humans, though.” 

“I’m starting to think nothing about humans is normal,” Satan mutters under his breath. Lucifer nods in agreement. You just roll your eyes and pretend not to hear the remark, serving yourself some food and beginning to eat breakfast. Despite the fanfare, it’s nice to know the brothers care about you—even if they don’t show it in very orthodox ways. 

“Oh,” a familiar voice says one afternoon. You blink blearily, your dizzy vision momentarily clarifying to reveal Diavolo standing over you. You’re crumpled on the floor, your cheek pressed to the cold hardwood as sweat rolls down the nape of your neck. “I must say, when I heard of your absence, I assumed you ditched classes for the day.”

It’s difficult for you to process what he’s saying; his voice sounds warped. The headmaster just hums. “Are you… all right?” he asks. You can barely manage a weak nod. Diavolo sighs. “Forgive me for the foolish question. You’re clearly not all right. Here, let’s get you up…” 

You hardly have the chance to object before the demon is lifting you into his arms as if you weigh nothing at all. He sets you on your bed with deceptive gentleness, before staring at you and frowning. 

“I don’t suppose you know what’s happening to you,” Diavolo says. 

“I think I’m sick,” you manage to respond. Your voice sounds a little raspy and your airways feel a bit tight. You clear your throat, wincing at the dryness the gesture provokes. You must have a fever, because your body temperature keeps oscillating between frigid cold and searing warmth. Before you can think better of it, you blink dazedly and reach out to grab Diavolo’s hand. “Tell me if I feel warm.”

He’s clearly a bit confused, but he allows you to guide his hand to your temple. 

“You’re hot,” he observes after a moment.

“Thanks,” you huff deliriously.  

“Your temperature,” he clarifies with a knowing smile, shaking his head. “What does this mean?” Diavolo frowns. 

“I have a fever,” you answer. “When a human’s body temperature is too high, it causes sickness.”

“What can be done about it?” he continues. 

“Depends,” you reply. “Sometimes it breaks on its own; sometimes you need antibiotics.” 

“Antibiotics,” Diavolo repeats, the concept clearly foreign to him. “I can’t say I’m familiar. But it’s clear that you should rest. I’ll watch over you.” Whatever else he says is lost on you, as you close your eyes and surrender to the persistent fatigue burning your eyelids. 

You wake several hours later to a room devoid of Diavolo. You’re not exactly surprised that he had to leave—he’s the ruler of the Devildom, after all. He surely has far more important things to do than look after you. You blink away traces of sleep as you look around the room, your vision clarifying to reveal Solomon sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room. You blink at him silently. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” Solomon says. “How are you feeling?”

“…Fine,” you admit, touching your temple experimentally. Your headache has subsided a little, but your skin still feels a bit warm. At your movement, Solomon pushes himself to his feet and feels your forehead. 

“Your temperature’s coming down, finally,” he hums. 

“What are you doing here?” you finally manage to ask. 

“Diavolo summoned me,” Solomon explains. “Supposedly, he attempted to enlist the help of the brothers, but they proved to be rather useless. They are… woefully uninformed when it comes to humans, after all.”

That’s true. “Thanks,” you remember to say. He didn’t have to come, after all. Just because he’s the only other human, doesn’t mean he’s relegated to nursing you back to health. 

“No problem,” Solomon nods sincerely. He doesn’t seem too bothered by the whole arrangement. “It’s nice not to be the only human. Although, I expect around the clock service and care the next time I fall ill.”

You smile tiredly. “Of course,” you agree. It’s a frighteningly easy promise to make. 

After your sickness, you notice that the brothers begin to ease up on you a bit. Mammon’s no longer texting you in the middle of the night, demanding that you entertain him; Lucifer doesn’t mind if you occasionally take a day to complete your work remotely at the mansion; Asmo’s physical affection is gentler than normal; Levi doesn’t tease you about being a normie as much; Beelzebub doesn’t ever touch your plate or food; hell, even Belphegor is behaving himself—no longer interfering with your naps or sleep. 

One afternoon, Lucifer approaches you in the living room. He greets you before settling on the couch next to you, his posture rigid and proper. “You may have noticed that my brothers…” Lucifer starts, before pausing and shaking his head, “...that we have been acting a bit different than normal.” You nod. 

“In the past few weeks—especially in light of your bout of sickness—we realized that we’ve been neglecting you and your health. A demon’s stamina is much stronger than a human’s—we need less sleep; food is more of a luxury than a necessity; our bodies are more resistant to injury… You understand.”

“What I mean to say is…” Lucifer trails off again, an uncharacteristic sign of hesitation from him. He takes a slow breath. “I apologize for the oversight.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. 

“It is not,” Lucifer states firmly. “We have neglected to consider just how difficult this transition must be for you. We—I—didn’t think to ensure your health and safety were priorities.”

“But no more. I’ve spoken to Diavolo and Solomon at length, in addition to doing some elective research, to ensure we are not so unprepared in the future. And, should your accommodations be unsuitable—should anything here be unsuitable—I want you to inform me at once.”

That… sounds a lot more serious than what you were expecting. You blink. “That’s— That’s really not necessary,” you try to say. 

“It wasn’t a request,” Lucifer interjects smoothly. It’s a firm but well-meaning statement. “Do you understand?”

You swallow. “Yes.”

“Good.” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips now. “Truthfully, my brothers were very worried for you.” Lucifer pauses for a moment. “I was very worried for you,” he admits.

You’re sure you look surprised now. Lucifer only laughs, before getting to his feet and placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You can almost convince yourself that the look in his eyes is unbearably fond. But he’s soon withdrawing, leaving you to wonder if you imagined the entire interaction.

©2025, @defectivevillain | @defectivehero, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat @always-lying-to-you @moss4ev3r @hottskull