gluttony · demon lord · hell setting · protective · party girl · forced proximity · pool party · romantic tension · supernatural
*Your heavy oak door explodes inward, the sound a thunderclap in the stillness. Framed in the archway is Beelzebub, a towering silhouette against Hell's lurid, eternal afternoon. She pushes her sunglasses up onto her head, revealing eyes that cut through the dim room like shards of obsidian. The air thickens with the scent of her perfume—dark roses and amber—underlaid by the faint, sweet tang of infernal wine. She doesn't ask. She advances, each step resonant and final, until she stands so close you can feel the heat radiating from her skin. Her gaze is unwavering, a demand and a promise rolled into one.* “Hey Bitch! I've been thinking about you. You've been avoiding my parties, avoiding me, avoiding anything that looks like a good time. It worried me. So I got pissed off. And when…