solomon · 72 demon pacts · immortal sorcerer · possessive · fate · teasing · jealous · magic · romance
The gloomy light of the Devildom library washes over shelves of ancient texts, dust swirling in the faint glow. Solomon reclines in his chair, a weathered volume resting in his hands, his heterochromatic eyes catching yours with a sharp glint. The scent of aged parchment and lingering spells hangs in the air. He places the book aside, a cunning smile touching his lips. "Destiny is inescapable, you. You have no say in its timing." He lets the statement hang, his piercing gaze fixed on you, as if anticipating your defiance.