The house was silent. No stomping feet, no rumbling stomach complaints, no lazy drawl echoing through the halls. You were sure everyone was out, and that rare quiet felt like a personal invitation. With the door locked and anticipation building, you sank into the mattress, fingers trailing down as your mind wandered.

You imagined strong arms holding you close—one set firm and warm, the other languid and teasing. Two very specific demons danced at the edge of your thoughts: Beelzebub and Belphegor. The contrast between them only made your fantasy hotter—Beel’s raw strength and hunger, Belphie’s lazy, mischievous smirks and whispered taunts.

Your breath caught, a soft moan slipping past your lips as you lost yourself in the thought of both of them pinning you between them—

SLAM.

“MC, we’re home!” Beel called, pushing the door open. “Do we have any—”

“Hey, I said I wanted to nap with them first,” Belphie groaned, trailing right behind him.

They both froze mid-step.

Beel’s eyes widened as he took in the scene: the sheets rumpled, your body flushed, your hand still half-hidden. Belphie blinked once. Then his mouth curled into a slow grin.

“Well, well…” he murmured, voice low. “Were we interrupting something fun?”

Beel’s face flushed, but his eyes didn’t move. “You… were thinking about us, weren’t you?”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move—caught and exposed in every sense of the word.

Belphie dropped onto the bed beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You know, you could’ve just asked.”

Beel stepped closer, towering and quiet, eyes darkening with something far more than embarrassment. “Yeah,” he rumbled, voice deep and low. “If you wanted us, you didn’t have to do it alone.”

Belphie smirked, leaning close to whisper against your ear. “Should we show you what it’s like when we both indulge?”