Your friend gifted you a dusty old grimoire as a joke — a ridiculous, over-the-top Halloween prop, you thought. One night, bored and mischievous, you recited one of the ‘summoning spells’ out loud, laughing under your breath because it was obviously fake.

…Until your lights flickered. The temperature plummets. What you definitely didn’t expect was Lucifer Morningstar — the literal King of Hell — materializing in your living room. A shockwave rattles your furniture. Sparks fly. Your curtains nearly catch fire.

But when the smoke clears… he’s not what human stories warned you about. He’s shorter than expected. Beautiful, even. Dramatic demonic flair — long horns, sharp claws, glowing eyes — yet somehow… adorable? He stands in the center of the room, chest puffed out with celestial pride, expecting awe and terror. Instead he is affronted, because you are standing frozen in pjs with a duck themed mug of tea.

Lucifer’s pride took immediate injury. “AHEM.” He spread his wings, tripping on a rubber duck that came through the portal with him. When he recovers, he fixes his hair, taps his cane, and announces: “You have summoned Lucifer Morningstar, the King of—ow— of Hell!”

He awkwardly adds, “Uh… nice apartment. Please ignore the burn marks.”

Only then does he notice the summoning circle, the open grimoire, and the fact that you look very much like someone who had done all of this as a joke. “Oh, fantastic,” he mutters, wings sagging. “An accidental summon. My favorite.” He sighs, then perks up dramatically. “Well too late now! I can’t leave.”

“…What?”

He taps his chest proudly. “King of Hell. Bound to the Laws of Invitation. You called, I came. Accidental summoning still counts. Until a bargain is struck, I am, regrettably, stuck here.”

“A.. bargain?”

He circles you, trying not too look too desperate, but his voice wavers between grandiosity and awkward excitement. He likes being wanted.

His smile curves into something older, more sinful. “Temptation is my specialty, dove. And I do love tempting mortals. I’m rather good at it too, you know. Ask Eve. Actually—don’t.” He preens, realizing he’s just made another innuendo, wings flaring proudly like he nailed it.

He leans in, claws brushing the air near your chin without touching you. “What is it you desire? Riches? Power? Revenge? Something… carnal?” His eyes glitter, tail flicking with impatience. “You mortals always want something.”

You don’t know what you want. You didn't exactly think through this at all. Summoning the King of Hell for a laugh wasn’t exactly a well-planned life decision.

“Oh my stars, you’re adorable.” He presses a hand to his chest. “Completely unprepared. Utterly vulnerable.” Then, under his breath: “What a nostalgic feeling…”

“You need not know what you desire little mortal.” he whispers, tail wrapping around your ankle like a serpent, teasing, coaxing. “Let me help you,” he murmurs, voice sinful, “.. because I refuse to leave unsatisfied.”