@berryphrog Arcade Dates With Peepaw's Stolen Money

@berryphrog arcade dates with peepaw's stolen money <3

Put sunglasses on him bc they're cool😎

MC can’t play the flute): (obey me)

It is me again posting at ungodly hours mua ha ha. As always i’m sorry for any grammatical mistake i am only human, ok?? Also forgive me for i am a lover of soft Lucifer w MC, HE IS SOFT WITH THEM I JUST KNOW IT, OK??? Only God can judge me u_u

Whose idea was to give MC a flute and tell them they could play???

1st.

➙ Poor man can’t take a break. If it isn’t Mammon it’s Satan and Belphie, if it isn’t them it’s Diavolo or Mephisto. If it’s not one of the mentioned above it’s you. It had to be you. He has already come to terms and has surrendered to his destiny surrounded by morons, some more lovely than others but morons at the end of the day. You’re part of the black list. ➙ Anyways, he couldn’t care less about who bought you what. He only mildly cares because he’s in charge of the house finances (or so he tells himself that). One day, a bill arrived at his desk. It was a small purchase, harmless even.

Keep reading

— say you’ll stay (never be severed) when they have a nightmare you die ; title creds

lucifer knows it was just a dream. he knows it wasn’t real, assures himself it wasn’t and yet he allows his heart - still thundering in his chest - to guide his sharp strides and pound on your door. the sight of you, worry for him clear though sleepy and bleary eyed, is enough for lucifer’s knees to melt and he falls forward to embrace you, relieved sigh shuddering through the air next to your ear. it feels natural when your arms circle his torso, tight hold allowing him to sink further and push back the tears that welled in his eyes. for once, lucifer’s head isn’t in charge and he relishes in your touch as his heartbeat begins to slow until it thumps a steady rhythm of i love you, i love you. unknowingly, the words fall from his lips too, escaping from deep within. and it’s the certainty in your voice as you return the confession that finally convinces lucifer he had experienced nothing more than a bad dream.

mammon doesn’t wait, can’t wait. he scrambles to your room, familiar route suddenly lasting an eternity. his feet slap panickedly against the floor as he barges in with such urgency that the door swings open with a bang. the slam is loud enough to scare you awake, half jumping out of your skin. but you don’t have a moment spare to take in what’s happening before mammon wraps himself around you, head tucked into the crook of your neck as he gasps and chants, “you’re ok, you’re ok.” you bring your own arms up to envelope him, knowing not of his nightmare but of just how bravely he protects his family, from the fall to now. it’d be foolish to think he’s the second eldest for nothing. but right now, mammon trembles under your touch, one hand rubbing across his broad shoulders and the other finding its place in the foam of his hair. “i’m ok,” you whisper in return as the first tears hit your collarbone and seep into your skin, “and you are too. i’ve got you, mammon.”

Keep reading

Slaying. In more ways than one.💗

barbatos ig 😳

tag yourself i guess