Chapter Text
Something about the sad look in Beel's eyes doesn't seem like it's really his sadness. After dinner, he helps you clear the table and follows you into the kitchen.
"You're quiet," you comment, taking the stack of dishes from his hands and placing them next to the sink. "Is something on your mind?"
You take one of his hands between yours. His fingers are so long that they completely encase your fist. You stroke his knuckles with your other hand, tilting your head up to meet his amethyst gaze. He just shrugs.
"Sometimes, I feel sad for no reason. I think it's because Belphie is sad."
The mention of his twin leaves a pang of guilt in your chest and you drop your eyes to the floor. You haven't visited the demon in the attic for longer than intended. It wouldn't surprise you if he thought you'd been eaten by a lower-level demon, or Cerberus. From what little you know of the seventh-born, he's awfully cynical. If he doesn't think you're dead, he probably thinks you've abandoned him to his fate.
"I miss him," Beel says, quietly.
His voice draws you back to the kitchen. Dropping his hand, you step towards him and try to wrap your arms around his torso. He lifts his arms a little to grant you access, resting his hands on your back. You feel his forehead rest atop your head. He gives a sad sigh which tickles your scalp. You let him stay like that for a minute before you press kisses against his chest. The affection makes him chuckle, a smile tugging the corner of his lips as he pulls back from you.
"Whaddaya say we make cookies tomorrow?"
He hums in approval. "You always know how to make me feel better."
Beelzebub leans down to press his lips against yours, lingering for a moment with a hand cupping your cheek. You want to melt into him and lead him back to your room and just hold him and love him, but seeing that sadness in his eyes has made you determine to get your head back in the game. For him.
After you finish cleaning the dinner dishes, you sneak up to the attic. It's rare for you to find Belphegor already awake when you visit, though his eyes seem glazed over and distant. He's sitting on the floor with his back against the bedframe, one leg stretched out in front of him while the other is bent at the knee. At first, he doesn't seem to notice you there. You step up to the door, registering that, yes, the sadness you'd seen in Beelzebub's eyes did not belong to Beelzebub.
"Grimm for your thoughts?" you offer.
Belphegor blinks out of his daze, turning sharply to you with a scowl.
"Oh, it's you."
"Long time, no see," you shrug, leaning against the lattice door. "Sorry, I've been ... well, busy, I guess, but I didn't mean for it to go on for this long."
He scoffs at you. "Busy doing what, human?"
There's a cold edge to his voice and he's giving you some intense side-eye. Something about the exchange makes your throat go dry.
"Studying at R.A.D., trying not to die, you know, the usual," you manage. "I made a pact with Asmo a few weeks back."
A few weeks? It has nearly been two months since the retreat, and a lot has happened since then. But the news catches Belphegor's attention. He turns to face you properly.
"Heh, four out of six, nice. Too bad your luck seems to be slowing down."
The glazed over look in his eyes is replaced with something darker. It makes you uneasy.
"I'm working on it," you say. "Satan and Lucifer are the last ones left. I'm sure they'll also be the most difficult."
He rolls his eyes. "Lucifer will be difficult. Satan, not so much."
You frown. "Sorry, have you met Satan?"
Belphegor nods. "Of course. I know my brothers. He might be cynical and angry all the time, but he has a soft spot which I think you'll be able to hit just right." A smirk creeps to his lips.
"And what might that be?" You arch an eyebrow at him, though something about his implication upsets you.
"Heh, surely you've noticed that Satan just loves to annoy Lucifer, right?"
He has you there. You nod once in acknowledgement.
"Well, a foolproof way to get a pact out of Satan would be to convince him that it'll piss Lucifer off. In fact, if you put the idea in his head, I'll bet that he asks you for the pact, just to see the look on Lucifer's face."
Your eyebrows knit together on your forehead. The idea leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
"That seems awfully manipulative," you huff.
Belphegor narrows his eyes at you, coming to his feet. He steps towards the door and leans against the lattices to peer out at you.
"Manipulative?" he repeats. "That's funny, coming from the girl with four pacts already."
You stiffen at that. "Hey, no, it's not like that," you say quickly. "I mean, yes, I'm trying to make pacts with them so that I can help you get out of here and talk to Lucifer, but I'm also making pacts with them because I want to, a-and because they want to. I haven't gone out of my way to trick any of your brothers into a pact, thank you very much."
"You tricked Mammon. You tricked Levi, too," he smirked.
You falter, your face heating. "I-it's not the same. They both blatantly knew I was tricking them and went with it anyway. And that was before I even met you. I didn't have some secret ulterior motive when I made those pacts."
He laughs at you. You're taken aback. It's the most lively you've seen Belphegor.
"Oh, that's cute. But seriously, you're not going to get a pact with Satan just by smiling at him and fluttering your eyelashes," he sneers. "That kinda shit might work on Asmodeus and Mammon, and maybe even Beel. But Satan's not going to fall for that act."
You open your mouth to retort, but he cuts you off.
"You really think you can get him to want a pact just because it's with you? Please."
"What are you implying about my other pacts?" you bite back.
You knew this bitch was salty, but you've never heard him act like an outright brat before.
"Did you start fucking Beel before or after you made the pact with him?" he challenges, his voice a low rumble.
You gawk. "How—?"
He smirks at you as his hair falls over his eyes. "Oh, you thought I didn't know that you were fucking my twin?" He pauses, but you don't answer, taking a step back from the door. Your small retreat makes him scoff again. "We're twins. We can feel each other. I can tell when he's near you because suddenly my dick gets hard and all I can do is wait until he's satisfied. You've got him wrapped around your pretty little finger, don't you? Did you have to fuck Asmodeus to get a pact, too?"
You seethe at that, stepping towards him again.
"Now listen here, Belphegor," you hiss. "Let me make something crystal clear for you. And I've said it before. I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for Beel. Because I care about him and he misses you. And I made that choice before he and I started seeing each other. Don't you dare suggest that I only got into bed with him to convince him to make the pact."
He eyes you coolly from the other side of the door, looking you up and down. You make an effort to hold his gaze, though you can feel a hot blush in your cheeks and angry tears stinging the back of your eyes. After a minute, Belphegor gives a bored sigh.
"You're right, I'm sorry," he drawls. "I shouldn't have said that stuff. You seem to care about my brothers. Why else would you be trying to get me out of here?" He shrugs, turning away and stepping towards the bed. "Guess I'm just impatient from being stuck in here so long."
He flops down onto the bed, swinging his long legs up as he tucks his arms behind his head. You watch him from the doorway, still bristled from the exchange. He holds up two fingers without looking at you.
"I don't really care how you get Satan or Lucifer to trust you, just stop taking so long," he says. "You're the only one who can help me."
He lowers his hand and tucks his arm behind his head again, crossing his ankles as he stares up at the ceiling. He says nothing more to you. You're not sure if he's fallen asleep, but you've had enough and turn to descend the stairs.
You find Satan on his usual couch in the library, a small smile on his face as his eyes scanned the pages of a book. He adjusts his position when he senses you, holding out an arm so that you can lean against his chest. He notices that you don't pick up your own book, instead tucking your head under his chin and watching the pages in his hands.
"What's on your mind?" he asks, nuzzling your hair with his nose.
You take in a deep breath, inhaling his scent. The room smells like old books and the warmth of the fireplace. It's comforting, helping ease the tension in your shoulders, but it's not enough. Satan snaps the book closed and sets it aside. He turns his body towards yours, pulling you away from his chest.
"You seem angry," he says, the burning green of his eyes studying your face.
You lock your eyes with him, sensing the way his presence amplifies that rage.
"You ever want to punch someone because you're trying to help them but they're just being a little bitch?" you blurt.
He blinks at you in surprise, but a smile curves his lips as he flicks a lock of blond hair away from his eyes. "I am familiar with that feeling. Who's the little bitch in this scenario?"
You shake your head quickly. "You know what? I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it either, I just want—"
Satan catches your wrist and tugs you to him, pressing his mouth against yours. The anger in your chest flares into something else. You card your hands through his hair, savouring his taste as his tongue races against yours. He pulls away to speak, pressing you down on your back on the couch as he climbs over you.
"You know, you're hot as all fuck when you're angry," he says, eyes flashing.
A growl escapes your throat, somewhere between anger and lust. You pull your wrist out of his grip and pull his mouth down to yours. He makes quick work of your clothes, undressing you as you struggle beneath him. You're caught between trying to pull him closer and trying to push him off you so you can climb on top of him, but he keeps you pinned. He presses his knee between your thighs once he's got your skirt and underwear off. You grind against him, letting the wetness of your heat soak into the fabric of his pants. He straightens up to take in the sight of you, panting and writhing as he holds you down.
"I can feel the wrath coursing through you." His eyes are full of intrigue, fixated on your face as he pushes two fingers into your cunt. "This is a side of you I haven't seen before. I want more."
You grip at his forearms, your nails biting into his skin.
"Take your damn clothes off and fuck me," you say.
His eyes flash and he smirks, removing his fingers from your sex to trail your juices along your skin. He rolls the bud of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
"Was that supposed to be a command?" he asks, his voice dangerously low. "Did you forget that you and I don't have a pact?"
You arch your back as he leans over you, feeling the press of his knee between your legs as you gyrate against him.
"I am aware, but I want you," you grit out.
You can feel the ire rising in your belly, the longer he holds you down, the longer he teases your skin. His blond hair frames his face as he lowers himself between your legs. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as his tongue slides against your dripping entrance, sending a pulse of pleasure through you. You arch your back again, but he jerks you back down by the hips. You can already feel the bruises from his touch blooming under your skin, but you don't care. You arch again, and his demon form flickers for a moment before he transforms. His claws sink into your hips, drawing a growl from your throat. He smirks at your reaction, tongue gliding between your folds again before he descends harshly onto your clit. You're screaming for him instantly, his lips and tongue and teeth merciless against the sensitive nub between your legs.
You twist blond locks of hair around your fingers as you cum, pulling as the cry of his name tears from your lungs. Your vision blurs with the pleasure and frustration, and when you look at him again, his shirt is off, and his cock is out. He slides his erection over your slit, allowing your arousal to lubricate his shaft. You swear, still trying to arch against him despite his firm hands on your hips. His tail slithers around your waist, the joints of the smooth armour biting at your skin as he squeezes around you.
"What's wrong, kitten?" he rasps. "Not satisfied yet?"
"Satan, fuck me," you growl, reaching for his cock.
You pump it firmly once you have your hand around his shaft, and he trills your name in anticipation as you align him with your entrance. He doesn't need you to guide him in, pressing himself past your entrance with a swift movement. His pelvis collides with yours as you stretch around his cock. You scream out his name, wrapping your legs around him as he penetrates you. He's far from gentle, fucking you so hard that it hurts. His armoured tail coils tightly around your body. The squeeze makes it harder for you to breathe, but you relish it. Every sensation rips through you with reckless force. His teeth are all along your skin, leaving marks in their wake.
He growls when he cums inside you, and you're overcome with a feral urge to bite him. Your teeth find his shoulder, and you mirror the mark he left on you the first time he took you. It takes you a moment to realise that you've broken his skin. But no sooner have you registered the taste of blood on your tongue, Satan balls a fist in your hair and yanks your head back. His cock remains hard as he shoves you off the couch and flips you onto your stomach. He slides off the couch to kneel behind you, shoving your face and chest against the floor as he enters you again, and continues to fuck you violently. You thrust back against him, feverish for more.
Satan rams into you until you've lost count of how many times you've cum, and how many times he's filled your cunt with his release. When he finally pulls out of you, you're both shaking and panting from exertion and pleasure. He rolls you onto your side, finding your mouth with his.
"Get that all out of your system, kitten?" he chuckles.
The ache and exhaustion of your body renders you unable to respond with little more than a nod. At some point, Satan scoops you into his arms and carries you to your room. When he stands to leave, you grab his arm and tug him back into the bed with you, finding the strength to pull your legs around him and wrestle him underneath you. You know he lets you do it—there's no way you could overpower him—but you ride him in his demon form into the ungodly hours of the night.