#thought it would just be implied but nope
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Looking at this image makes me feel violated
#ik ive posted this image a lot but i cannot tell you the JUMPSCARE i had when i saw it this first time#rewindes it so many times to make sure what i was seeing was actually canon#like i knew they were somewhat canon but it came so quick and it caught me off guard#thought it would just be implied but nope#have them french kissing while Velvette takes a selfie#voxval#staticmoth#vox#hazbin hotel vox#vox hazbin hotel#valentino#hazbin hotel valentino#valentino hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel#the vees
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[◉°] … TOJI FUSHIGURO TAKES A LIE DETECTOR TEST… 9.6M VIEWS
꩜ actor!toji (& implied actor toji x actress/actor reader)
⤷ synopsis: toji thought this lie detector test was going to be a breeze. he was a little mistaken.
sfw, fluff, crack, ooc toji, toji & reader are secretly together, toji lying!
masterlists
actor!toji masterlist
⪩ ₊ 🍪 ✧ ⁺
“i ain’t nervous,” toji claims, cracking his neck and smirking as the crew members attach the needed equipment to his body, “i ain’t no liar either. so i got nothing to worry about here.”
“i sure hope that’s true, mr.fushiguro.” the polygraph examiner replies slyly.
“are you ready, toji fushiguro?” the interviewer asks.
“yeah, i am,” toji claps, “hurry up and get started.”
“is your name toji fushiguro?”
“yes my name is toji fushiguro.” he looks to the polygraph examiner. “it is, right?”
the woman simply stares at him.
“..alright then…”
the interviews asks another question. “are you about to take a polygraph exam?”
“yes, yes and yes, now give me the real questions!”
TOJI FUSHIGURO TELLS THE TRUTH
YOUR CAREER
“we’re going to start with the category of your career.”
toji nods and looks to the examiner. “how ‘m i doing?”
“you’re very calm, nothing unusual yet.”
“hm.”
the interview begins to speak. “one of your most popular roles as an actor was when you played Frank Castle in the Netflix series, “The Punisher”. some would say this is when you became a heartthrob. do you think is this true?”
toji sighs and shakes his head. “nah-”
“LIE.” the polygraph examiner calls out.
toji raises his hand. “…because, i was already a heartthrob before alla that.” he smiles, looking proud of himself. his answer is met with silence.
“ok.” says the interviewer and goes onto the next question. “do you face a lot of pressure being a heartthrob?”
“nope.” toji answers easily. “i’m just that kinda guy. i ain’t gotta try too hard for much, especially not ‘being hot’.”
he looks at the examiner.
“he’s telling the truth.” she states. she almost seems disappointed by the fact.
“see?” toji says, folding his arms, “as i said, ‘got nothin’ to lie about.”
“in the punisher,” the interviewer starts, ignoring toji’s cocky replies, “do you wear a muscle suit to look bigger than you actually are?”
toji throws his back, cackles echoing around the small room. “fuck no!” he gestures to…his whole body, “‘it look like i need a muscle suit? ‘didn’t even know that shit was a thing… i’m big enough without any of that stuff.” he shrugs, looking into the camera. “i think we can all see that.”
the examiner nods curtly. “..he is telling the truth.”
“do you workout often?” asks the interviewer.
toji scoffs. “i thought i’d get good questions..but yeah, yeah i do workout.”
“would you consider yourself fit?”
“yep. ‘hundred percent.”
“would you consider yourself fitter than,” the interviewer slides a photo of the actor gojo satoru towards toji, “this man?”
“pfft-” toji chortles. “oh, ohh yeah. easily. he’s like..” he looks for the correct words, “a little boy. are we kidding?”
he looks to the examiner and then to the interviewer.
“he is being truthful..again.”
toji smirks at the camera, tapping the side of his nose with his finger. “toji never lies.”
POP CULTURE
“this year, you were named “The Most Sexiest Man Alive” by People Magazine. do you believe you’re sexier than this man, 2022’s sexiest man, nanami kento?” the interviewer slides another photo, this time of the actor nanami kento.
toji looks at the photo for a second, before scoffing a little. “oh yeah. definitely. ‘guy just has a permanent frown on his face. he ain’t ugly but he could smile a little, y’know?”
“what about this ‘guy’, 2021’s most sexiest man alive, ryomen sukuna?” the interviewer also slides a picture of him to toji.
toji strokes his chin. “heh..yeah..yeah i would say so..this guy..he ain’t ugly either but..theres this energy about him..”
“what energy would that be, toji fushiguro?”
“the energy of a fuckin’ mass murderer that’s what!” he laughs at his own joke, looking at the picture of this ‘ryomen sukuna’, who is glaring into his soul through the image. “yeahh, i’d say i’m more attractive than him. just.. just a little.” he holds two fingers close together emphasis. “jesus christ, that’s one scary looking fuck.”
the examiner inspects the polygraph and looks towards toji and the interviewer. “he has been telling the truth.”
“yeah.” toji nods, exhaling through his mouth and sliding the pictures away from himself. “‘course i am.”
LOVE LIFE
toji had been doing well so far, but the category of ‘love life’ would be his downfall.
“do you want to get married in the future?”
“yeah, yeah i do.”
the examiner nods.
“have you ever been in love?”
“..yes.” toji responds, thinking about his past for a second.
the examiner nods again.
“are you in love right now?”
toji pauses for the first time in the whole test. he takes a deep breath. “no. yeah, no. ‘m not.”
the examiner raises an eyebrow at the results. “questionable.”
“oh, c’mon.” toji groans, rolling his eyes.
“is there someone you’re in love with?”
“nope. nobody at all.” he interlinks his fingers, tapping them against each other. “..nobody at all..”
“questionable. again.” the examiner states, pointedly looking at toji.
toji sighs. “oh, brother…”
“did you happen to meet this person..on set?”
“no, ‘cause there is no person?” toji says firmly.
“again.” the examiner says. “questionable.”
“christ…”
the interviewer asks another question. “do you believe in love at first sight?”
toji huffs. “no, that’s just two people who wanna fuck.”
“i see. then,” the interviewer takes out three pictures, all of them being people who he has worked with on set, including you.
“are you in love with any of these people?”
toji gulps, hesitating for a split second, his eyes focused on your picture. “nope. not oneeee bit.”
“LIE.” the examiner shouts excitedly, happy to have finally caught toji out on lying. she rings the negative buzzer repeatedly. “lie!”
“‘you serious?” he asks incredulously, looking between the interviewer and the examiner. “listen, maybe it was just my heart murmur or somethin’ like that,” he looks to side, cheeks rosy and shifts in his seat a little, “i-i don’t-”
“those are the last of our questions.” the interviewer says to toji, smiling knowingly. “thank you for taking part in our lie detector test.”
toji grumbles.
౨ৎ
tag list: @tiredslepz | @hayatslife | @shxyxyxxxx | @snowprincesa1 | @laylasbunbunny | @mimiemie | @ncentic | @rosesored | @imover-18 | @gintokhi | @suzuperstarr | @lostgxrlblog | @jallie10 | @nnsav | @bunnyx-sakura | @bubbabobabubbles | @ladytamayolover | @keiva1000
a/n: this was longer than i planned 🤥
#I’m so sorry i always forget the taglist i’m not used to one i’m so sorry😭#actor!toji#toji x reader#toji x gn!reader#toji x you#toji x y/n#toji x self insert#toji fluff#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro x y/n#toji fushiguro fluff#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji x you#fushiguro toji fluff#toji x gender neutral reader#toji x gender neutral!reader
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yami ai [yandere] - Hot Yandere Singles Near You
synopsis: you click on a random pop-up ad and are visited by weird smiling man in suit.
genre: pure crack (like fr), fluff, tbh there's not really a plot
word count: 4.4k
warnings: implied stalking
Isn’t insomnia just the worst? Like, seriously? What’s the point of being a human being with antiquated thoughts and impressive cognitive and motor skills when your brain fights you on the most basic stuff. For example, like sleeping!!
You must’ve refreshed YouTube and Twitter over a thousand times. Over 8 billion people in the world and there’s no new content anywhere? You groaned and jumped back over onto Twitter, silently praying and pleading for something new to show up on your feed. Maybe a wacky billionaire got eaten by a mob of homeless people or maybe a news article about a Floridian doing something gross and outrageous and virtually impossible.
But nope. Nothing.
Not a single thing piqued your interest. You groaned again and looked at the time on your dimly lit phone. It was past 2 a.m. and you were bored out of your mind. You then lazily clicked on Google and sighed.
‘Maybe someone posted a new fanfic over something…’ you hoped. And even if there wasn’t a new fic uploaded you’ll just read the old ones you favorited. Perhaps reading something might put you to sleep.
As you were scrolling through your favorite ship tags, you were startled by a pop up ad covering up 90% of the screen and flashing emojis.
“Ugh… seriously?” you groaned. “They should make ad-blockers on phones for this shit.” You squinted at the bright lettering emanating from your phone even though it was at the lowest brightness setting.
⚠️(99+) Hot Yandere Singles NEAR YOU⚠️
Yandere’s…? Singles? Near me?
The pop-up ad had flashing peach, cherry, and eggplant emojis with a water splash emoji at the end to signify… well, you’re not sure what it was trying to signify. On the sides of the ad, it showed pictures of very gorgeous men and women, all striking suggestive poses. Underneath the title was a small summary that read. ‘These lonely desperate yanderes wanna meet you! They’ll most likely find you anyway, but wouldn’t you rather be the honey to a bee instead of a fly? Try it NOW for FREE!! No hookups! No catfishes! No sign ups!’ Then below that were a few empty boxes to fill out requiring your personal information.
"..."
Was this a porn ad?!
No way at 2:45 in the freaking morning did you just get a porn pop-up ad while googling mafia au fanfiction. This has to be some kind of joke. Maybe it was prank and someone was just fucking with you. And how and why would there be 99+ yanderes in your area?! You couldn’t be surrounded by that many psychos. Could you? Whatever the case may be, it was now past 2 a.m. and as the rule of life states ‘Nothing good happens after 2 a.m.’. You don’t know if it was the lack of sleep or just reckless curiosity, but you gave your shoulders a shrug and mumbled a ‘fuck it’ as you put in your information. Your name, number, gender, age, preferred sex, email, and mailing address. As you clicked submit and continued scrolling, you gave very little thought about how this would go down.
On one hand, the ad turns out to be real and you get a partner out of this.
Or
You get quartered, stalked, doxxed, and murdered like the dumbass you are for putting your personal info into a sketchy porno-like pop-up on Google.
Or, it turns out to be a prank and some asshole sitting in a basement has a good laugh at you.
Meh. You’ll deal with it in the morning.
*****
You were jolted awake with the sound of rapid knocking coming from your front door. You groaned into your pillow as you tried to ignore the person desperately wanting your attention from outside your apartment. You finally got some sleep only for it to get interrupted. Only minutes and minutes of continued knocking without any signs of letting up, you decide to get up and shoo away whoever it was. You wearily grabbed your phone to check the time.
8:02 a.m.
You huffed as you stormed towards the front door.
“If this a fucking Jehova’s Witness, I swear to god…” you grumbled. You swung open the door and threw the person a harsh glare, only to be met with popping sounds as confetti flew in your face.
“Good morning, my dear darling~!! Are you ready to begin on the road to happiness and love?” the stranger shouted a far too happy tone for 8 in the morning.
You took a step back in shock, fully awake as you waved and dusted the confetti from your face and hair. You looked the strange man up and down. He was smiling ear to ear and wore an expensive looking suit to warm for the summer weather. A briefcase stood right beside him along with dozens of other party poppers and a white plastic bag filled with brown bottles with oddly enough no labels on them. You looked at the man’s face. He was surprisingly attractive and without a single flaw anywhere. His hair was jet black and shined a very prominent gloss. You were honestly kind of embarrassed to be seen by him when you looked like such a mess. The man let out a chuckle.
“Oh my.” he said, gently putting his hand over his mouth with vague concern. “I hope I didn’t startle you too much. I probably should’ve sent you an email notifying you of the time I was coming. I’m sorry that must’ve been a troubling awakening.”
You quirked your eyebrow and took another step back, grabbing onto the doorknob so that you could slam it right in his face if things got too weird.
“And… you are?”
“Oh my, oh my. Where are my manners? How careless of me to assume.” The man bowed with a curtsy. “I am the ‘Matchmaker’. My job is to pair two people with their fated soulmate and give each of my clients their happily ever after. It’s very nice to meet you, (Y/N) (L/N).”
You felt a chill crawl down your spine. How’d this weirdo know your name?! You tried to close the door as fast as you could, but the ‘Matchmaker’ was even faster. He clicked his tongue at you, his smile unchanging, but his eyes seemed to harden his gentle tone.
“My, how rude. Is that any way to treat a guest?” He let out another chuckle. “You’ll never find love that way.”
“H-How did you know my name?” you stuttered.
Again, another chuckle. What was so funny? “My dear~. You gave it to me.”
What the hell was he talking about? How could you have given this creep your name? Was he a stalker? A junkie? Noticing the confusion on your face, the man spoke up again.
“Oh my dear. Do you really not remember?” he asked, tilting his head in feign innocence. “You filled out an ad to meet singles in your area. And here I am, coming to fulfill that ad.”
You eased up on the tension you had on the door and tilted your head in surprised confusion. “That was a real ad?”
The man stood up tall and smiled earnestly again. “Of course. However, you are the first person to actually fill out that ad. Really, this is more of a celebration to both of us.”
Huh, so the pop-up ad was real.
Not a prank.
And now there’s a psycho standing at your front door promising you a partner from an actual yandere.
“I honestly thought it was a prank. I mean… yanderes? Isn’t that just an anime thing?”
“Oh, I assure you my darling.” he said with a snide smirk. “Yanderes are real. And when they heard about signing up, it was like tossing chicken in a sea of alligators. All clamoring to be the first person to take a bite.”
Okay, gross but kind of sweet.
“May I come in?”
“Huh?”
“Well, my dear. It would be easier to come in and talk through the process of how this goes instead of standing here.”
“Oh, um… Suuuree-”
“Great! My my darling~. What a lovely home. Very well decorated.” The man quickly strided into your house and made himself comfortable in your living room, looking as if he was analyzing every detail about your house.
Richard Chase would’ve loved your dumbass.
You shut the door and followed him into your own apartment and offered him a seat on your couch. Might as well, right? You’ve gone this far and you're still alive.
“Umm…” you hesitantly shifted from one foot to another. “Do you… um… want some coffee maybe? Or tea? Maybe a glass of water? If you haven;t eaten breakfast yet, I whip you up something.”
Yeah, sure. Feed the man with only a title for a name and waltzed right into your house after showing up after you put in your personal information into a random pop-up ad at 3 a.m. promising you a happy life with hot single yanderes in your area. You are the pinnacle of human genius. The apex of natural selection. The creme de la creme of common sense. Charles Darwin would be so impressed.
“How thoughtful. Just coffee would be fine. Thank you.”
After brewing a quick pot, you sat across from the man facing him heads on and gently slid him his steaming cup. After a while of taking little sips in weird silence, he spoke up again.
“Before we continue, I’d just like to say: Thank you so much for applying for this wonderful opportunity!! Not many people would click on an ad requiring doxxing information to meet their soulmates! Again, congrats on being our number one willing client!”
“Willing client?” you asked.
“Well, of course! For some reason, humans seem to really love the idea of a yandere until there’s one standing on their front porch!” he laughed.
“Humans? I’m sorry. Are you not human, Mr…?”
“Ah ah! No need for formalities! Just ‘The Matchmaker’ or simply ‘Matchmaker’.
“Oh, so… you don’t have a true name? Or is that just a title?”
“Oh darling~.” he sang sweetly. “That’s none of anyone’s fucking business, is it?”
Your eyes widened and let out a nervous chuckle. “Okay, got it! Just Matchmaker. Lovely name. Adore it. In fact, I love when strange mysterious men only give a title for a name.” What the hell does that even mean? You had no idea what you were saying anymore.
“Heh, smart cookie.” He winked. “Shall we begin?”
“Um, yeah, so… how does this work exactly?” you finally asked.
“Simple, my dear darling. Think of this as an ordinary matchmaking appointment. I have a stack of potential soulmates all ready to meet you. I have the same information about them that I also have of you. Each potential soulmate also has a picture so if you don’t really feel up to meeting face-to-face just yet you can look over the picture and see who captures your heart.”
“Face-to-face? So these guys have my picture too?”
“Of course! And might I say, those pictures don’t do you justice. In all my years in this business, I’ve never seen such an obsession and overload of potential soulmates for just one person.”
You lightly blushed. “I-I don’t know about that… I barely got any sleep last night so I probably look like a zombie right now…”
“Au contraire, Darling. You look absolutely stunning. If I weren’t such a professional I would burn all these forms and claim you as my one and only~.”
You felt your entire face flush red as the Matchmaker pierced your soul with his longing gaze. It felt like he was staring into your very essence – like he could read you like a book. You nervously cleared your throat and shifted your eyes away, hoping to bring down your blush.
“S-So! Um… should we get started?” you stuttered, internally kicking yourself for being so easily flustered by a couple of smooth words. Ted Bundy would’ve had a field day with your dumbass.
“Ready whenever you are, my dear.” The Matchmaker set his briefcase on your coffee table and pulled out a single form and slid it over towards you. “Let’s start off with an easy one.”
You looked at the form along with the picture of a very attractive man paperclipped to the paper. According to the form, his name is Hamazawa Akita. He was in his early 20’s, had a varying array of hobbies from hiking to scuba diving, and was very much in love with you.
“Well, what do you think?”
“Hm, well, he’s very cute. And very active.”
“Would you like to meet him?”
“Um, sure… is there a number I could call or…?”
“No need! We can bring him in right now.” The Matchmaker snapped his fingers and you whipped your head towards the front door where Akita strolled in, all smiles. You looked back over the Matchmaker. “Did I not lock my door? Wait. More importantly, how’d he get here?!”
The Matchmaker smiled. “My dear, when you’re in this business you pick up a few tricks.” He then turned his attention towards Akita who now stood in the middle of the living room. “No. 1 would you like to introduce yourself?”
Akita stood tall and his eyes seemed to beam directly at you. “My name is Hamazawa Akita. Ever since I saw your picture I’ve dreamed about sweeping you off your feet and claiming you all to myself!”
“So, like 8 hours ago?”
“Yes!! But those hours feel like years when being away from you.”
“Hmm.”
“So, what do you think? Are you feeling the butterflies?”
You looked up Akita up and down and your face twisted as if you’re deciding on whether or not to buy a car or a piece of clothing.
“Um, to be honest my guy. I’m not feeling it.”
“Huh?”
“Excuse me, my darling?”
“Weeeelllll…. I mean, don’t get me wrong! You’re very attractive and your words are sweet, but I don’t think I believe any of it. Like, you just admitted to wanting me all to yourself only 8 hours ago, but I don’t really feel anything. Not even a shiver.”
The Matchmaker and Akita both looked at each other like they weren’t really expecting that. With a quick wave of his hand, Akita slumped his shoulders and headed towards your front door. You shouted out an apology as the dejected suitor walked out.
“Well, I didn’t expect that. I don’t normally get such competent clients. At least those that get past kicking and screaming.” The Matchmaker grinned. You shrugged.
“I guess I just know what I like. All the anime I’ve watched kind of gives you that high standard of what makes a yandere a real yandere, y’know?”
He nodded. “I cannot agree more. Well, we have plenty more where that came from. Shall we continue?”
*****
Papers were strewn across your coffee table in an unorganized fashion as both you and your estranged guest were tired beyond belief. You had no idea how many hours had passed nor how many guests were in and out of your apartment. You’re honestly surprised none of your neighbors complained or called the police. Your apartment would’ve looked like a clown car if anyone had been watching from the outside. You honestly lost count after No. 256. You let out another yawn and laid on your side trying your best to keep your eyes open. Maybe 2 hours of sleep wasn’t enough for the multiple interviews you had to conduct today. Maybe your 9th grade biology teacher was right. Maybe you are going to die alone. A weary sigh brought you from your thoughts.
“My, my. You are definitely the most high standard client I’ve ever had. I didn’t think we’d get to the triple digits in just one day.”
You also sighed and sat up in your seat. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… All these guys are cute and all, but they’re all lacking something. They’re either too forceful or not forceful enough. Too wimpy or too strong. Or too obsessed or just incredibly so lovesick that I feel like they’d fall in love with just about anyone who’d be willing. Ugh, why can’t this be simpler like adopting an animal?” You groaned. You also hadn’t thought this would take this long. You didn’t really think of yourself as having high standards until today. Until today, you’d be happy with anyone close to you in age and with a heartbeat. Who knew picking out a yandere soulmate would be so challenging. And who knew that there’d be so many willing participants!
The Matchmaker reached into his briefcase and pulled another stack of forms and slid them over to you. There must be at least over a hundred papers in front of you. How did he have so many?!
“How about we switch things up, hm? You’ll look over the papers and when you see someone that catches your eye, I’ll bring him in.” He made it sound like you were adopting a dog or a cat. But if this made it go any faster, you were willing to try.
After about 3 more stacks of papers, you were starting to lose hope and patience. When you got to the last few papers, you stopped dead in your tracks. Woah baby!
“Woah baby!” you exclaimed.
“Did you find someone you like?” The Matchmaker asked hopefully.
“Oh yeah. This guy.” You showed him the paper. He furrowed his brows a little.
“Are you sure? I don’t think I remember this man. His name and face don’t seem familiar.”
“Really? Maybe he’s a late entry or something?”
Matchmaker stroked his chin in thought. “I’ll go check it out. Be right back, dear. I’m very sorry for this inconvenience.”
You waved off his apology with a smile and he left your apartment. You then leaned back with a groan. You just wanted to find your ‘soulmate’ or whatever and move on with this day. You closed your eyes for a second and waited patiently for Matchmaker to come back.
Tap tap tap
Just like deja vu, you were awoken by rapid knocking. Except this time it wasn’t coming from your front door.
Tap tap tap tap
It sounds like it’s coming from… your window?
Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap
You quickly got up and walked towards your window and opened it.
“Woah!” You jumped back a little as you were met face to face with the man that you had picked out and that the Matchmaker went to go find.
‘Wow… he’s even cuter in person!!’
He let out a delicious chuckle and gave you a charming smile.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, darling~. Hehe, though I think that fear in your eyes was worth it. So adorable~.”
For the second time today, a complete weirdo stranger has made you blush. Wait…
“Wait! I don’t have a balcony and I’m on the third floor. How’d you-?” You peeked over the window to see if he was pulling a Criss Angel.
“I have incredible grip strength~.” he winked.
“Oooh I’m sure~.” you swooned. For a weirdo, he was a smooth talking weirdo.
“Oh, I got these for you, sweetheart~.” He pulled himself up and sat on your windowsill and pulled out a bouquet of roughly cut flowers from behind him. You gasped and grabbed them, giving them a smell.
“These are my favorite!! How did you know? I don’t think that was one of the pieces of info required for the Matchmaker.” you asked.
The stranger chuckled. “Easy. I never filled out that stupid application.”
You looked up from your flowers and titled your head like a confused puppy.
“I already know everything about you. I don’t need a stupid piece of paper to tell me what I already know about you. Like, how I know that you have secret sweets hidden all throughout your room. Or that whenever you have a good day you love to sing Stray Kids.”
He inched closer to you as you backed up further into the room.
“You won’t eat frozen pizza, but every so often you eat a lobster roll from a food truck from Gary on Main St.. You have life destroying evidence of your boss that you’re planning on using on your last day. You’ve seen the Barbie movie 5 times. And…”
You felt your legs hit the couch and tried to keep yourself from falling onto your back like a defenseless turtle.
“Your favorite anime is… Dar-” You quickly covered the stranger’s mouth with a furious blush.
“I only watch it ironically!! I don’t love it! It’s not my favorite!” you quickly clarified. The gravity of the situation was made perfectly clear after that. This man really knew all about you. Honestly, you’re so loud that you’re pretty sure that people on the ground outside could hear you singing. And you don’t really pay attention to your surroundings so it's easy for someone to know that you eat from a food truck every other week at specific times. But, knowing your favorite secretly watched anime?
“W-Who… are you?” you stuttered. You’re pretty sure you already knew the answer.
He laughed and you felt his lips brush against your fingers. You blushed and tried to pull back, only to be stopped by his hands.
“Sweetie~. You already know who I am.” He grabbed the paper from the stack and put it next to his face. “See? I’m Yami Ai. Your soulmate.”
Before you could even process what was happening, you were gently pushed onto the couch with Yami hovering over you holding your hands beside your head. You couldn’t stop the blush erupting from your neck to your face. Your heart was beating way too fast and your stomach felt jumpy and queasy. Butterflies.
You cleared your throat. “Um… so, if you didn’t fill out a form then how come The Matchmaker had your profile and picture? And why didn’t you use the front door?”
Yami smirked and leaned in closer. “It’s pretty simple to pull off when your apartment does security checks on new guests entering the building.”
“But, my apartment doesn’t–” you stopped. “Ooooh… So you impersonated a security guard, slipped your profile and info into his briefcase, and were planning on showing up as one of the potential singles? That’s… convoluted. But, smart.” You shrugged. “And since you obviously knew which floor I was on and which window was mine, I assume you’ve been watching me for a while and were watching me last night when I couldn’t sleep?”
Yami laughed again. “You are so smart~. You really catch on quickly, don’t you?”
You shrugged again with a nervous smile. “W-Well, obviously not smart enough to not put in my personal info and have strange men come in and out of my apartment.”
Yami was quick to turn his gentle smile into a hard, harsh frown. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and you winced under the force he placed in you.
“You know, my darling. It’s partially my fault. If I hadn’t backed out and taken you that night, you’d never be in this situation. With those men eyeing you up and down like you were theirs. Having that smiling freak calling you ‘dear’ and ‘darling’ when only I can call you that. I was planning on getting rid of the competition, but you did that for me.”
Yami loosened his grip and lifted you up, staring into your eyes. You blushed again.
“Rejection after rejection. Some guys didn’t even get 2 words out before you turned away. Of course my darling would only want the most perfect man. Isn’t that right, darling~?”
“Hehehe~” you leaned in with a giggle. “You’re so sweet~.”
You are such a baby for flattery.
*****
“My dear darling, I’m so very sorry for the inconvenience. I didn’t mean to be gone for so long, but I could not find this person you–” Matchmaker explained, rushing in and stopping dead in his tracks when he saw both you and Yami, the man who left 30 minutes ago to go find, eating breakfast in the living room.
Sitting in his lap.
And feeding each other.
“Oh! Matchmaker!” you exclaimed, quickly swallowing your food. You didn’t notice Yami tightening his grip on your waist nor did you notice the cold glare and tense atmosphere enveloping the room. “Look who I found~.”
“I see…” he said hesitantly.
“He climbed up the building and came in through the window.”
“My~. How romantic~.” he sang. “So, I take it that you are satisfied with your soulmate? Or… do you wish to continue searching?” he asked teasingly. Before Yami could say anything, you quickly spoke again.
“Yep! I’m sure.” You ruffled Yami’s hair and nuzzled up against him. “I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.” Yami hugged you closer to his chest as you giggled. “Plus, he makes the most amazing breakfast in the world, so extra points!” you cheered. You reached out towards the Matchmaker’s briefcase.
“Here you go! I put all the papers back in for you.”
Matchmaker quickly walked over and grabbed his briefcase along with your hand. “Well, my dear. It’s been an honor. You are truly the most remarkable and memorable client I have ever had.” he said with a bow and made his way towards the door. However, before leaving he chuckled and looked back at the both of you. “Although, it’s a shame,” he sighed. “Maybe if I had stayed, I would’ve snatched you up myself.”
And with a final loud laugh, The Matchmaker disappeared, but not before Yami stood up to lounge and attack the fleeting man like a guard dog. You snorted and caressed his face to calm him down. “Relax, Yami. He’s just joking.”
“Well, I hated his joke. Fuckin’ freak…” he grumbled. “And it’s Ai. You’re mine now. You should get used to calling each other by our first names.”
You smiled and leaned against him. “Okay, Ai. Whatever you say.”
“And if a man comes to the door, never EVER answer it, got it!”
“Mhm.”
“I’m serious, darling. I’ll gouge their eyes out right in front of you.”
“Yes sir.”
The rest of your life was going to be very interesting. Suck it, Ms. Braxton. I guess you’re the one dying alone. Because you have a yandere boyfriend! And she has gonorrhea. Bitch.
---
a/n: this is so shit. i'm so sorry that i've been MIA for a while. work has been pretty crazy and i haven't really felt much motivated to write. however, i'm trying to get back into it now. with this goofy shit. kind of a joke piece, but i needed to write something silly and not serious at all to relax. (also i've been writing since 4 a.m., so...) anyways, i'm going to try and update regulary or at least post something.
Here's my YouTube. I make anime playlists.
#male yandere#yandere male#yandere oc#yandere boy#yandere boyfriend#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere x y/n#yandere x willing reader#x reader#yandere scenarios#yandere boyfriend scenario#yandere kinnie#my writing#long break#goofy ahh#anime playlist#youtube channel#youtuber#creative writing#crack post#fluff scenario#fluff fanfic#requests are open#requests open#oneshot#yandere anime boyfriend#yandere manga boy#please request
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Based on ep 5
ALASTOR
ALASTOR
BARKK BARK AOOOGAAA
Love a caring, defensive, sadistic, cannibilistic daddy demon
Title: Acts of service
Themes: slight submissive y/n, protective, blood, demon form, fluff, relationship dynamic, implied married couple, human life mentioned
Alastor can take a lot of shit…but even he has a breaking point….
(hehehehehehe)
Charlie’s hotel was not making the progress she wanted and so one day she shocked everyone with four words;
“My dad is coming”
The hotel was in a state of frenzy.
Everyone seemed excited to meet the King of Hell.
For once everyone was on one page and getting the place in tip top shape.
You had finally calmed Charlie down from her nth breakdown and had started primping yourself for the big man’s visit.
“Honestly its about time Luci showed his bright ass around here” you said as you patted some blush on.
Alastor was standing in the corner of your bedroom; oozing darkness menacingly.
He had been rather quiet and for once not making a fuss.
You almost smirked, whether or not he admits it
He adored Charlie
And HATED being bested in anything.
“Youre glowering dear” you say as you finish applying your flawless makeup.
“I just dont see what all the hoopla is about. So what if the Morningstar is coming…its just charlie’s dad” Alastor grumbled in a rant.
You giggled “Yea but this is important to Charlie so no funny business mister”
His big smile tightened and his eyes narrowed “no promises”
You and Charlie greeted Lucifer
“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”
He damned near choked Charlie in a bear hug before turning to you
“Long time no see Sis” you hummed and gave him a big squeeze, but not before hissing lowly in his ear “do not fuck this up Luci”
He swallowed and you grinned before walking to stand by Alastor.
You nudged him towards Lucifer and reluctantly he introduced himself.
“Alastor sir pleasure to put a face to the name”
Lucifer shot you a look before eyeing Alastor suspiciously
“Uuuhh and you are?”
Alastor eye twitched “i’m the host of the hotel…you might know me from my radio broadcast hmm?”
Lucifer shrugged “nope guess thats why Charlie named it the HAZbin hotel”
You facepalmed and charlie was visibly getting nervous as you could literally see Alastor’s ego flare
“HA HA HA actually i came up with that”
“Ha Ha Ha well it wasnt very clever!”
They were in each other faces now
Alastor growled “ha ha HA fuck you”
You interjected, getting between the two, mostly Alastor
“Boys Boys reign it in PLEASE” you threw a look at Alastor, who straightened his suit.
You sighed and turned your attention to Charlie
“Dear why dont you tell your dad the whole point of your hotel” you gave a tense smile.
“Y/n is right dad! Alastor here has been tremendous help with the hotel…i wouldnt have made it this far without him” lucifer made a face.
You could see the wheels turning in Alastor’s head
He was up to no good.
“Yeeeeessss we are all very proud of Charlie. I am honored to fulfill any wish this lovely young lady has”
He hugged Charlie and it took all of your willpower to not laugh at Lucifer’s annoyed look.
You giggled as he completely ignored Alastor and in turn to the others.
Charlie introduced her girlfriend and you could literally see his shoulders ease.
“OH thank Hell youre a lesbian! Cool cool i totally approve of THIS!”
Lucifer went on to give luxurious suggestions to Charlie, which Alastor shot down.
You sighed lovingly at Alastor’s antics.
He might have been the big bad Radio Demon, but he really was a softie when he wanted to be.
Definitely would have made a great dad…
You blushed at the thought.
Lucifer and Alastor were currently bickering with each other about who was the better father figure.
When suddenly the door flew open and a short, voluptuous, 1920 styled woman bursted in.
Your eyes widened “Mimzy?”
She squealed and embraced you in a tight hug, you kissed each other’s cheeks in greeting
“Ooooh y/n darling how you’ve been? Its been too long” she asked.
You grinned and gave a shrug “ooh it hasnt been that long has it?”
She greeted Alastor and gave you an astonished look “Y/n darling you still with dollface here?” you felt everyone eyes shift to you and you felt your eye twitch a bit but said nothing.
She begged to have you chat with her but you told her youll catch up her later, as you were helping Charlie and Alastor with Lucifer.
Not many people knew what your relationship with Alastor, hell not many people knew about Alastor life in general.
And you kind of liked to keep it that way but Mimzy was a talker if you ever saw one.
But Mimzy was not was one to just show up just out of nowhere…
She wanted something
You and Alaster were trailing behind Charlie as she explained the purpose of the hotel when Husker appeared to the two of you, addressing Alastor
“Boss a word with you” you quirked a brow when Alastor kindly shooed you off to have his discussion. You walked a bit aways before morphing into the wall and listened in on their conversation
“What is it?”
“You and I both know that Mimzy only pops her ass up when she needs somethin, that bitch is trouble and who knows what kind of shit she got into to come running to you”
True.
“Dont worry so much Husker, its nothing i cant handle, besides who in their right mind would cross me?”
“I mean…youve been gone a while and it aint like no one knows why-”
He was cut off
“And they dont need to know” that sharp smile was tight
Alastor patted Husker’s head condescendingly; like a pet.
Husker shoved his hand away angrily.
“Big talk for someone who’s also on a leash”
You saw Alastor glitch, eyes turning to black and glowing dials
Uh oh.
“What did you say?”
Your eyes widened as contract chains shot out at Husker, wrapping around his neck
Alastor was menacingly toying with the chain as he growled
“If you ever say that again i will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for every disrespectful wretch WHO DARES TO QUESTION ME!”
Husker was shaking like a leaf and you were stunned; Alastor rarely ever lost his composure.
When Alastor disappeared down the hall you morphed to Husker to ease his nerves
“Oh Husker are you ok?” you asked as you tried soothed his nerves.
He shook it off (not really) and grumbled “fucking asshole”
You headed back to the lobby with Husker when a loud BAM was heard.
What the fuck?
“Mimizy you skank c’mon out here!”
You see Mimzy hide behind the bar and raise a eyebrow.
You frown, going to heave her over the counter
“Mimzy care to enlighten me about what the actual fuck is that”
She sweatdropped “i-i may or may not have borrowed some money from a loan shark”
Your frown deepened “how. Much. money?”
“O-o fifty…grand”
You hissed.
The hotel was shaking and was being heavily damaged
You pulled charlie out of the way as some debris fell from the ceiling and hissed at Lucifer “arent you gonna do something!?”
He was trying to make this a life lesson and now was NOT the time.
You growled and went to march right outside to give those goons a piece of your mind when a clawed hand settled on your shoulder.
“Dont worry dear ill handle this”
“But Alastor…”
His smile turned wild “its about time i reminded everyone why i am here…a reminder to not fuck with the Radio Demon!”
He transformed. Antlers out and black tentacles flaring.
You watch him grow big in size and rip the gangsters apart, eating a few.
You smiled wickedy, hells he was hot
After he had his fun he shrunk back to normal and you launched yourself at him
Lovingly you purred into his neck “you ok now?”
He grinned, nuzzling you “i missed blowing off some steam”
Mimzy approached the two of you and you frowned, opening your mouth to say something but Alastor beat you to it
“I think you should go Mimzy. Now”
She was shocked. Usually Alastor let her off the hook and it was you who normally told people off.
“Y-you cant be serious…”
His eyes narrowed “I mean it. You brought danger to this place just for me to clean up your mess. I wont allow that here”
He was putting his foot down. You leaned into him, happy.
You flashed her a sharp grin “i agree Mimzy, you should go”
She blinked “you backing up your hubby over ya own friend? y/n!”
She hissed at Alastor “you think i dont know you? You cant really give a shit about this place”
You crossed your arms, giving her a pointed look, hissing as you felt your eyes glow in anger “leave Mimzy. While i’m the one being nice”
She huffed and turned to leave, but not before flipping you both off.
You relaxed and turned to Alastor, who was looking smug.
Tugging on his bowtie you craned his neck to your level, purring
“Bedroom now dear”
His ears perked and his smile grew wider “feeling big emotions doll?”
“Ooh you have no idea”
With a flick of your hand the hotel was restored and you were whisking the lanky red demon upstairs to blow off some steam of your own
….
extra:
"what y/n and Alastor are married?!"
charlie blinked "yea i thought you guys knew that"
"WHAT THE FUCK!"
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“Your boyfriend,” Chirssy sighed as she picked through Nancy’s clothes, “Y’know, Steve?”
Robin blinked at her, “You think I’m dating Steve?”
That was a silly question, “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I? You guys are all over each other.”
They were. Piggy back rides, cuddling on the couch together, constantly invading each other’s personal space. The only person worse with Steve was Eddie, but Chrissy figured that just came with being best friends for over a decade. She didn’t exactly have a frame of reference for that, considering her first real friends were barely six months old.
Chrissy just hadn’t expected Robin to burst out laughing. Hard enough to double over.
Robin wiped at her eyes, barely managing to speak through her own cackles, “That’s-oh my god. How have we fucked up this badly?”
Chrissy could feel a flush creep up her neck, embarrassment kicking in. She hated when she wasn’t in on the joke. It usually meant that it was actually on her, “Don't be mean.”
“No!” Robin rushed out to say, effortlessly catching on to the look on Chrissy’s face, “No! I-I don’t mean- you’re not stupid! I am. We are. For… reasons. But we aren’t dating.”
That didn’t make any sense. Unless… was Steve leading her on? Was he the type of guy to do that?
Chrissy raised a brow at her, “So what are you doing? The two of you are attached at the hip. Unless he just drives you around everywhere for fun?”
Chrissy could tell Robin was still trying not to laugh. She was failing at it too, obvious as she hid it behind her hand.
“Stop laughing at me,” Chrissy grumbled.
“I’m not! I’m just laughing near you,” Robin said quickly. She turned to Steve, “Hey babe, can you come over here for a second?”
He came trotting right over, leaving Eddie to argue with Nancy in his place. He kind of reminded her of a dog, but in a cute way. Like a golden retriever boyfriend.
Robin wrapped an arm around his shoulder the second he was within reach. She grinned at him, shaking him the slightest bit, “How would you feel about us going out some time?”
Steve stared at her, obviously confused, “Huh?”
“You, me,” Robin went on, “The whole boyfriend girlfriend shtick. What do you say?”
Chrissy didn’t expect to Steve physically cringe, like the idea completely disgusted him, “Ew, no.”
Robin scoffed but she didn’t look very surprised, “Fucking rude.”
“No!” Steve said, raising his hands to placate, “I don’t mean you’re gross! I mean it would be like banging my sister!”
It was Robin’s turn to cringe, “Dude, ew.”
“See!”
Chrissy didn’t understand what was happening. She stared at them, blurting the question out, “You guys aren’t together?”
Robin did a set of jazz hands, “Nope. Absolutely zero attraction between us. See?”
“But why?” Chrissy asked, looking between the two of them, “You both seem so perfect for each other.”
“Hey Eddie,” Steve called, a weird smile on his face, “What do you think? Are Robin and I perfect for each other?”
Suddenly Robin had that same look, “Yeah. He knows Steve better than anybody. Let's have him weigh in.”
Eddie groaned as he came over, clearly eavesdropping the entire time. He left Nancy to dig around her closet, walking up next to Steve with a sigh, “Are we really doing this? Really?”
Robin gasped, faking a faint, “Are you implying that I’m not good enough for Steve?”
Steve gasped right along with her, joining in with the dramatics while Chrissy was still lost, “I think he might be.”
“As fun as this little game is,” Eddie sighed, “I think we should just tell her. I’m tired of keeping my hands to myself anyway.”
Steve looked at him, head cocked, “You think so?”
“Why not?”
Steve shrugged, his eyes landing back onto Chrissy. His voice dipped down, more serious then before. He was talking like he was speaking to Eddie, but Eddie wasn’t the one he was staring down as he spoke, “It makes sense. I think the chances of it going badly are pretty low. The alternative wouldn’t be very wise.”
Chrissy was reminded, not for the first time, why she thought Steve was the scarier one of the best friend duo.
But then Eddie was clamping a hand onto Steve’s shoulder, pulling him closer as he mumbled in his ear, “Put the claws away angel. I highly doubt she's like that. Plus she's been through enough for one day. Don't you think?”
It was actually pretty impressive, how easily a few words had Steve’s face transforming from scarily defensive to pleasantly neutral. It nearly looked like the words made him shiver, “I-you're right. Sorry Chris. I'm just… sensitive about it “
“I have no idea what’s going on,” Chrissy said, completely unable to accept an apology that she didn’t understand, “What is happening?”
And what did Eddie just call him?
Eddie went on, “Well… we kind of have this thing when we’re in a near death experience. Or at least adjacent to it. Where we, well, kind of let loose? So we might as well warn you about what you’re going to see beforehand.”
Chrissy stared as Steve leaned further into him, nearly too close. No, definitely too close. He was basically nuzzling the side of Eddie’s face as he spoke, “You’re making it sound like we’re going to commit public indecency in front of her. And I’m the one who needs to calm down?”
Chrissy still didn’t get it. But her brain was still trying to work it out, fitting the weird pieces together. The way they were leaning into each other. The fact that Steve, for some bizarre reason didn’t want the best girl in the country, despite the fact that Robin was right there. How Eddie was instantly able to calm him down.
Angel.
Oh.
Oh.
OH.
“Uh, you okay there Chris?” Eddie asked, watching right at the realization hit her.
She was not okay. Not because of Eddie and Steve, but because this meant Robin was single. And she had been the entire damn time.
Chrissy shook herself out of the stupid thought, just because she wasn’t taken didn’t mean she had a chance-
“Yeah, we’re kind of the queer trio over here,” Robin added, effortlessly grinding Chrissy’s train of thought back to a halt, “I um, probably should have told you sooner but piggybacking on their coming out seems appropriate.”
Nancy snorted, her outfit choices formalized as she walked over, “If you’re the queer trio what does that make me? The straight fourth wheel?”
They were all talking about it so casually. Like the thing that has plagued Chrissy’s mind for years, filling her with guilt and doubt, didn’t matter. It was normal, it was fine, and Robin liked girls.
She was pretty sure she was going to faint. But before she could her mouth was opening, “That’s- I - Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”
Her voice came out more forceful than she expected. Though in her defense, she just found out that she had a real shot with her best friend the same day her life was in danger. She was feeling frazzled, but she corrected herself when she was met with silence, “I-I’m fine with it! Really! I j-just wish I had known.”
Nancy looked at her sympathetically, “Did you have a crush on one of them too? I get it, Steve got me the first time we started getting close. But I promise it’s not that hard to get over it.”
“No!” Chrissy said quickly, again with too much force, “I’m just surprised. T-That’s it. Everything’s fine.”
“Think you got the wrong category there Nance,” Steve mumbled under his breathe, yelping when Robin pinched his arm with a sharp glare.
“Ignore him,” Robin said with a sad smile, “He doesn’t get everyone doesn’t have the gay gene.”
Chrissy nodded, her eyes trailing the flush that was going up Robin’s neck. Suddenly her mouth felt dry, the urge to correct her coming out full force. She shouldn’t tell them, right? It was wrong, it was bad, it didn't make sense. Because she knew they weren’t wrong. They weren’t bad. And Chrissy was so, so, tired of other people’s words invading her own thoughts.
Nancy was laying the clothes out, the only one capable of getting everyone back on task, “Since it looks like neither of you were actually looking. I picked these out for you-”
“I have it,” Chrissy blurted out, her eyes still on the clothes on the bed. She refused to look up for any of their reactions, “The um, what you guys were talking about earlier. Me too. And I like the blue skirt.”
Nancy was the only one who didn’t miss a beat, “Ah, so now there’s four. Good for you. And I agree with the skirt, it will make you look a little taller with the heels and the elongation. We can get you to pass for a college student for sure. Robin, what do you think about the pink?”
from the next chapter of this fic
#steddie#steddie fic#buckingham fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#chrissy cunningham#steddie childhood friends au#the universe trapped in your skin#preview#im trying y'all#queued
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Do you think you could do felix with a reader that takes a long time to cum and is super insecure about it but he reassures her that he would love to try and make her cum even if it takes her a long time (and it does) but he actually does it and she's so shocked. Thank you!!!
𝐭𝐰: female anatomy ; mentioning of faking orgasms ; reader has had shitty exes who made her feel bad ; poor communication at the very beginning ; oral sex and fingering (f receiving) ; dirty talk ; ♡
𝐰𝐜: 2,1k ; ♡
a/n: i’m not suuuper proud of this but i had a lil writer’s block so…. also, i edited this on my phone so it might be shit shxhsh. hope u like this anon!! ♡
this contains smut. minors dni. 18+ only.
Lying in bed, spent and out of breath, Felix wonders what he did wrong.
You didn’t cum, that much is very clear to him. And it’s not that he’s offended or questioning his skills, he’s just really confused about it. He felt you clenching around him, and you did moan just a pitch higher. Did you try faking your orgasm hoping he wouldn’t notice? Did he really fuck you that badly? Maybe he should’ve communicated better, checked up with you more, asked if you were enjoying yourself.
He’d been shoved away from your pussy when he was giving you head earlier, you tugging at his hair to get him to stop eating you out. He’d been lapping at your clit for minutes when you’d muttered out a breathy “I need you now”. Now that he thinks about it, the very same thing had happened when he’d fingered you the first two times you slept together. And you didn’t cum that that day either at this point, Felix is sure.
You’ve slept together twice now and you faked your orgasms both times. Felix feels he should bring this up before it’s too late and it becomes a routine for you. Only… how? He wouldn’t want to make you feel bad about it, he just genuinely wants to understand if there’s anything he could do to really pleasure you the way you deserve.
Coming back inside the room a couple of minutes later after freshening up, you immediately notice that Felix looks lost in his thoughts. Nevertheless, he smiles at you once he witnesses your presence inside the room and pats the empty spot next to him, implying for you to come lie down and cuddle, which you do, resting your head on his chest and throwing your leg across his lap as he covers the both of you.
The room smells awfully like sex, which is a constant reminder to Felix that he has to talk to you. Your relationship is at its early stage, and he wants to talk this through with you before everything crumbles - sex might not be the most important aspect in a relationship, but communication is, and Felix needs you to know you’re completely safe to talk to him. He wants you to tell him if he’s not doing something right in bed.
He really, really likes you and wants to be with you for a very long time, that’s why it’s so important that you trust him with this kind of things.
“Baby?” His deep, hoarse voice vibrates in his chest, “you good? You’re not sore, are you?”
He feels you shaking your head. “Nope, just tired, but I’m good. Are you?”
Physically, yes, but his own brain is killing him with the constant overthinking.
“Yeah,” he just answers while thinking of an efficient way to bring up the fact he suspects you faked your orgasms.
Thankfully, though, you kind of do it for him.
“Did you… did you like it?” You ask timidly, feeling kind of stupid for asking, but the way he looks so deep in thought is kind of making you feel self conscious.
“Of course I did,” he doesn’t sound like he’s lying, and you sigh out of relief when he pulls you closer and kisses your head. “Did you?”
“Yeah,” you mumble, but Felix knows you’re sugarcoating the truth to him somehow, and he hates it.
“Baby,” he mumbles after a while - a deep sigh follows the petname. “I know you faked it.”
Blood runs cold in your veins. You open your mouth to justify yourself, thinking he’s mad at you or something, but he beats you to it. He sits up on the mattress, and you do the same, however you keep your head down, not meeting his eyes.
“Felix, baby…”
“Before you say anything, I just want you to know I’m not mad at you. I just… don’t understand? I mean, is there something I’m doing wrong? Is there something I can do better? You can tell me, baby. I won’t get mad at you, I could never.”
You shake your head, fidgeting with the hem of your pajama shorts. Taking a deep breath, you shake your head as a no, “you’re not doing anything wrong, I promise.”
“Then what is it, baby?” He asks, voice full of concern - he wants you to help him understand. “I want you to always have a good time when we sleep together. I don’t want you to experience disappointing sex with me and feel like you have to fake it to spare my feelings. We’re a couple, you should tell me if you don’t like something I’m doing. Even- even when I give you oral or try to finger you, you never finish, you just push me away after a couple of minutes.”
The room falls awkwardly quiet after Felix’s words, until you finally find the courage to speak and tell him the truth, even though it’s embarrassing - to you, at least.
“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you begin. “It just… it takes me a while to, you know… cum. A long while,” you sigh. “You… I like everything you do to me, baby, it’s just… it takes really long, and I wouldn’t want you to get bored or anything.”
“Baby, just… why on earth would I get bored eating you out or fucking you? I don’t understand, you know I’d die between your thighs, baby.”
His words go straight to your core, and you’re sure you’re red in the face by now.
“You say that now. But I can assure you, you will get bored.”
All of your exes did, after all. But if there’s one thing your relationship with Felix has taught you, is that he’s nothing like your exes.
“Baby,” he says in a serious tone, “I won’t,” he assures you. “I know I won’t, and I’ll be honored if you ever want me to try to make you cum, baby, but only if it’s something you want. You know I’d never pressure you into anything, baby.”
“You mean… right now?”
Felix pulls you in his lap, his arms around your waist. “Whenever you want to. If you want round two right now I’m down.”
You’d be lying if you said you aren’t horny right now, especially when Felix’s underneath you, completely shirtless and only in his boxers. However, you can’t help but feel a little anxious. After all, Felix knows you’ve been faking your orgasms and he’s willing to try his hand at making you cum. What if you don’t?
Felix can’t help but notice you’re too much in your own head, so he places two fingers under your chin and delicately lifts your head to meet your eyes. “We don’t have to. It was just a suggestion, baby.”
You shift in his lap and he makes a pained sound, already getting hard. “No! It’s not that. I want to, it’s just… I’m scared to disappoint you.”
He pulls your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ears. “You could never disappoint me. Understand?” He looks you in the eye as he speaks.
You nod. “Yeah, okay.”
“Good,” he whispers on your lips, “now let me eat you out like you deserve.”
Sprawled on the bed with Felix between your thighs, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous as he slides your panties down your thighs, letting them fall on the floor. Felix, however, looks completely enamoured with your pretty pussy.
When he places the first kiss on top of your thigh, your body jolts. “It’s gonna take a while.”
“Relax, baby,” another kiss on your inner thigh, “don’t think too much. Just lie down and enjoy yourself.”
Felix takes his time peppering your skin with soft kisses, all the way until his lips finally reach your most sensitive spot. You squirm when he licks a stripe that goes from your entrance to your clit, and his head immediately snaps in your direction. “You good?”
“Yeah. Yeah, felt good.”
Felix smirks and licks his lips, licking another stripe on your pussy, and then wrapping his lips around your clit, humming as he buries his face deep in your cunt. He keeps sucking and licking and lapping at your most delicate spot. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, and the wet, squelching sounds he makes are the only thing that can be heard, together with your heavy breaths.
It feels nice, really nice, but you don’t feel close yet. Maybe it’s because you can’t really empty your head and relax like Felix said.
“Felix, baby…” you try to entangle your fingers in his hair, “it’s… it’s okay if you wanna stop.”
Felix shakes his head, with his mouth full of your pussy. “Don’t wanna,” he mumbles, completely pussydrunk. “D’you want me to stop?”
“I don’t want you to get tired…”
Felix chuckles, sucking on your clit harder until you let out a whimper. You can’t see him, but Felix smirks satisfied. “Does it look like I’m getting tired, baby?” He lifts his head to look at you, and you can clearly see your arousal all over his chin, mixed with his spit. “I fuckin’ love eatin’ this pussy, baby. ’s so sweet. So fuckin’ sweet, baby, I could eat it all day.”
He grips your thighs harder, eats you out like a desperate man, very pleased with the moans you let out each time he sucks a little bit harder on your sensitive and swollen clit. Felix smiles to himself when he feels you clenching your thighs around his head, and this time he’s sure you’re not faking your reactions, because your legs are genuinely shaking. You arch your back when Felix inserts a finger inside of you slowly, inch by inch, and then a second finger, while his mouth is still on your clit. Your breathing gets quicker and quicker when he starts moving them in and out of you.
“You like it, yeah?” Felix slurs, fucking you with his fingers slow and deep, stimulating your g-spot over and over again. “You like it when I eat you out while I fuck you with my fingers, huh?”
You nod. It feels different than any of the other times you’ve done this. This time, you feel you could actually cum. “Like it. I like it, baby. Keep going, please. Don’t stop,” you whimper.
“Is my baby gonna cum f’me?” Felix kisses your clit sweetly. “Are you gonna cum for me f’real? Y’re not gonna fake it this time, baby, are you?”
You shake your head, legs desperately trembling - you can practically feel your orgasm, it’s there. Felix is about to make you cum for the first time. You moan when he latches his mouth back on your clit, eating you out and savoring the way you taste on his tongue. Entangling your fingers in his blond hair, you push him into your cunt as you feel yourself releasing in his mouth, arching your back.
“Baby, baby!” You moan, your whole body’s shaking, “‘m… ‘m…”
Your body falls back on the mattress, completely spent, chest rising and falling quickly. Felix pulls his fingers out of your cunt, wiping them on the sheets to dry them as he lifts his head from your thighs. The lower part of his face is entirely covered in your release, and he manages to lick most of it to clean himself, wiping the rest away using the back of his hand before collapsing on the bed next to you with a grin on his face. Circling your waist with his arm, he pulls you closer so that you’re resting your head on his chest.
“I’m… I’m guessing you didn’t fake it this time, huh?” He jokes, breathing heavily himself.
You hide your face in the crook of his neck, blushing like crazy. “I didn’t, I really didn’t.” After a while, you say, “I’m sorry it took so long.”
Felix only pulls you closer, kissing the top of your head. “Ah, baby. What matters the most is that you enjoyed yourself.”
“I did, baby. I liked it very much.”
“Good,” Felix reassures you. “I don’t mind going down on you or fucking you, baby. In fact, I love it. I’d spend the whole day buried between your sweet thighs, you know that.”
“Are you for real?” You can’t help but ask, lifting your head to meet his eyes.
Felix nods, then his gaze shifts to the large, watch patch on the front of his grey boxers. “Does it look like I’m lying, baby? Now gimme a couple of minutes and I’ll fuck you real good, too, baby, promise.”
-> reblog my works to show me your support! feedback means everything to me! ♡
#lee felix smut#felix smut#lee felix hard thoughts#lee felix hard hours#felix hard thoughts#felix hard hours#felix fanfic#felix x reader smut#lee felix fanfic#stray kids smut#skz#stray kids#stray kids masterlist#skz smut#skz masterlist#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fic#stray kids hard thoughts#stray kids drabbles#lee felix fic#felix fic
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say it back! ☆ jay park
☆ non-idol! bf! jay x fem! reader
☆ summary: jay thinks you're really cute, especially when you're mad.
☆ genre: fluff!! implied college! au / young adult! au , super domestic and cutesy
☆ warning(s)? nope!
☆ word count: 1.1k
☆ after supermassive blackhole i realized just how many jay stans followed me, so eat up guys 😛
It was a Friday evening. The sun was beginning to set, casting a vibrant peach-orange glow over Jay’s apartment.
With a navy-blue apron hanging loosely from his neck, Jay took in the scent of garlic chives and caramelized onions marinating in the pan. With a spatula, he popped in a lump of gochujang, stirring in the hot, red paste.
If Jay had to be honest, he spent most of his time just touching you, his girlfriend. Not in a sexual way. Any physical touch with you was more than enough. Whether it be cuddling on the couch or you clinging onto him while he did things, the intimacy of having skin-on-skin contact was everything.
On days like this, Jay was the one cooking dinner. Not-so-surprising, you were an absolute mess in the kitchen, so he took on that responsibility. You should be home soon. You had taken up an internship a weeks ago, so you had to stay just a tad later than usual.
As Jay immersed himself in the gorgeous aromas of his craft, he thought of what he should do with you later.
He could watch a movie with you, but knowing you, you would probably be all over him. He never expected you to be the clingy, needy type, doing whatever you could to snuggle up against his warm body. Jay’s lips parted before spreading into a gummy grin. He could imagine your voice:
“Baaabe,” you would whine, plopping yourself in between his legs. You would tangle your arms with his, or maybe you'd place his hands in your hair and make him play with it.
If his eyes were glued to the TV for long enough, you would pout, before peppering soft kisses against his neck. Jay would pretend to ignore you, making you whine again.
“Give me attention,” you would murmur against his ear.
Oh man, Jay felt giddy and warm inside just thinking about it.
What he wouldn’t do just to have you come home already—
The door clicked open.
“I’m home!”
Speak of the devil and you will appear.
Jay heard a few footsteps and a giggle before feeling arms slither around his torso.
“Hi,” you mumbled against his back.
Jay grinned. “Hi, Angel.”
You peeked over his shoulder, taking in the scent of his cooking. “Smells good.”
“Go wash up, baby,” Jay said. “I’m almost done.”
“Okayyy,” you squeezed his waist. You gave Jay a small peck on the cheek. You drawled, “I love youuuu!”
Jay hummed.
He heard you huff.
“I love you,” you repeated.
“Mhm.”
There’s a pulse of silence before you pulled away, leaving him alone.
When you left, he couldn’t help but smile so stupidly.
You were going to drive him crazy.
You were so cute, and adorable, and pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous, and precious, and everything that he loved. He wanted to hold you in his arms forever and kiss you forever and be with you forever and-
How many kids should you and him have? He’d always wanted two boys and a girl, but he wouldn’t mind having more. Later down the line, when you and him got older, he’d buy you a pretty diamond ring— in fact, he’d buy you everything that you’ve ever wanted. And then you and him will get married and buy a house. Would you take his last name? [Name] Park didn’t sound too bad. People would call you Mrs. Park, and instead of calling you by your first name, Jay would refer to you as “my wife,” and—
He was feeling dizzy just thinking about it. Was he getting ahead of himself?
“Are you mad at me?” your voice suddenly said.
Jay jumped. He whipped his head around to see you with your arms crossed and a big, sulky frown.
Were you standing there the whole time?
“B-Babe, I thought you went to the bathroom…”
You shook your head.
“Are you mad at me?” you repeated. Taking a few steps forward, you turned him around, pressing him up against the kitchen counter while holding his hands together.
“Wait, what?” Jay’s brows knitted together. “Baby, where is this coming from?”
“You…” you began, averting your gaze. “You didn’t say it back.”
Jay cocked his head. “Say what back?”
You huffed. “I said I love you, and you didn’t say it back.”
You tilted your head so that he couldn’t see your pouty face, playing with his fingers. You murmured something under your breath, something that he couldn’t quite hear.
Jay stared at you for a few seconds, processing everything. And then, he threw his head back, loud bouts of laughter emitting from his lips. Every time that he would calm down and look at you, your sulky face would make him burst back into his fit of giggles.
“It’s not funny!” you slapped his shoulder, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment. When he wouldn’t stop laughing, you turned away, punching him on the arm, “You’re a jerk, Jay.”
At that, Jay immediately stopped laughing.
“Wait, I’m sorry!” Jay clasped your hands in his, pulling you close to him so that you were flushed against his chest.
You frowned.
“It's too late to apologize,” you mumbled.
Jay almost chuckled at your grumpiness, but stopped himself before you’d be even more upset with him.
You stayed like that for a few moments: Jay holding you close against the kitchen counter, fingers loosely intertwined.
Finally, Jay poked your cheek.
“Hey!”
“Don’t be mad at me, Angel.”
Your frown deepened.
Jay sighed.
Bringing a large hand up, he gently grabbed your face, bringing it closer.
“What are you-”
Jay began littering chaste kisses all across your face– he started at your cheek, moved up to your forehead, down your nose, to your other cheek, and lastly to your chin, where he teased you by kissing just close enough to your lips. He exaggerated by making loud kissy noises to further rile you up.
“Stoooooppp,” you whined, but made no attempt to resist him.
Jay let out a low chuckle. He cupped your cheeks. He ghosted his lips over yours, reveling in the way that you automatically closed your eyes and wet your lips in anticipation. He contemplated whether or not he should pull away to tease you, but decided against it.
Who was he to deny you?
When your lips met, you let out an excited squeal, squeezing his bicep. When you guys pulled away, Jay breathed against your lips, “I love you.”
“Baby...” you mewled, sliding your hands up his chest to hook around his neck.
“I love you,” he repeated himself, leaning in to give your lips a peck. “I love you so fucking much.”
You giggled softly, your breath brushing against his cheek. “I love you, too.”
#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#enhypen fic#park jongseong fluff#park jongseong x reader#park jongseong#jay enhypen#jay enhypen x reader#jay fluff#jay x reader#jay enhypen fluff#star-sim#vanya-talks
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Snakes on a post
Another particularly long answer dump since i, once again, have a backlog of things to potentially answer |D
❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ
Got jumpscared with my own old art for a hot minute there LAUGHS.
(For those wondering, the naga doodle from here was attached to the ask)
That is every other Royal that exists in the Nether and also at least some of the demons that challenged him for his Royal title lol.
Believe me, no one was or is more surprised then me XD;
So, the thing about where Rire's ichor manifests is that it kinda exists and doesn't exist at the same time. Meaning that his upper back is where the manifestation point is anchored, BUT it can still manifest with a bit of space in between it and his back hence why it will manifest over his clothes and not through them.
So if you touch where the manifestation point is sans the ichor, than you are just straight up touching his back. With the ichor, he still gets sensory input from the tentacles to his back but it's a lot more soft and muted esp the further away it gets from him. As you've seen implied though, he would feel a very sharp pain if a great deal of damage was done to the ichor where it clusters at the manifestation point, since he'd DEF be feeling that straight in his back lol.
He is definitely a top and the only way he would bottom for anybody is if they somehow forced him to.
Ah i knew i'd answered this a long time ago [finally found it]! Holy crosses (those that have been blessed) can also burn him but they would need to be in contact with him the entire time. Being a Royal he also has more of a tolerance to these than normal demons.
Well, unless said person actually has the undeniable ability to make good on their words, Rire would just stand there rather genially with that little smile he sometimes has and let them finish.
And then he might use them as reverse suggestions for dealing with said person (why would you give him any ideas!!?)
both
In BTD canon it is quite possible that they actually haven't in person. But we are using creative license here haha.
Rire heals a lot faster than a human. Cain is not my character so I don't know how his stacks up.
I've grouped these asks cos they kind of have similar answers - 360°
(jk sorry sorry to the second q that is just a very common spelling mistake and I couldn't resist XD; )
Now, even though we mashed all the characs together in BTD, they all actually come from different storylines and so their canons outside the "BTD canon" may differ. This tends to bleed in. With this in mind:
The rules of Rire's canon (eg the concept of Battle Royales and how to become a Royal) don't apply to Cain. Anyway, they don't live in the same place either.
Cain is canonically the oldest and most OP character in BTD lol so yes he is stronger than Rire - you might've noticed, but Rire is never in the same drawing as Cain voluntarily. I play with this along with the "natural weakness" aspect - which I've also referred to as scissors-paper-rock rules XD Basically; demons beat humans, angels beat demons (purely because demons have weakness against holiness).
It would (be insane) but I hope you are not looking at me to fulfil this :d
Not really
His coronation day is a public holiday in his sector so yes XD
Aww thank you very much for your interest! ≧(´▽｀)≦ It's really cool that some of you guys want to actually fund such a thing - I'd have thought you'd have enough of him killing you in BTD1 XD Unfortunately, I have no plans for a Rire game at the moment as I'm working on a webcomic which looks like it will take up all my free time (that being said, he will be in the webcomic at some point).
Nope! Although i can kinda see why you might think that lol.
Whatever that one is where he doesn't particularly care what someone else identifies as. It really makes no difference to him or how he will act.
There are viruses in the Nether that if contracted could potentially kill you, yes. Part of being a Royal is becoming a lot more robust than normal Demons though. As for if/when Rire dies, I dunno maybe either in a Battle Royale somewhere thousands of years down the line or by old age (which is rare for a Royal but not impossible if you play your cards right).
If you are asking if he has a heat/rut of some sort, he does not |D
#boyfriend to death#art#rire answer dump#answer dump#doodle#long post#decided to actually redesign what a naga rire would viably look like since the old design was bad XD
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Art of Deception [Fred Weasley x Reader]
Title: Art of Deception.
Pairing: Fred Weasley x Gryffindor!Reader
Timeline: Non-specified.
Summary: Cormac McLaggen won’t take no for an answer, insert fake dating trope with Fred Weasley.
Warnings: Fake dating? Mentions of Cormac, he needs his own warning. Kissing. Implied derogatory comments about wealth, status and red hair.
"Okay, emergency, for the next five minutes you're my boyfriend, okay Weasley?" You say in a rush, sliding in next to Fred on the common room sofa, almost out of breath as you run in, narrowly avoiding your pursuer.
"Can do, come here" he says matter-of-factly as he pulls you into his lap without a second thought.
"Not even questioning it?" You ask curiously at his unquestioning willingness to go along with your silly scheme.
"Nope," he says simply, rubbing his hand across your back as you sit across his lap.
The worn fabric of his jumper feels soft against your skin as you lean into him just a little, enjoying the feeling of being so close to him. You flinch a little as the portrait covered door swings open, knowing exactly who would be entering. Fred must have felt your slight flinch and flicks his gaze to you, his hand still rubbing your back. You feel his long fingers bump into the band of your bra strap and he lingers only a moment, fingers hovering over the clasp before swiftly changing the direction of his absent stroking.
"Oh, y/n, didn't think I'd find you here," Cormac says, running a hand through his curly locks which don't even move thanks to all the product in them.
"In her boyfriend's lap?" Fred says, sounding possessive, playing the role perfectly.
"Boyfriend?" Cormac asks, eyes widening at the realisation that you were sat in someone's lap, and that person being Fred Weasley.
"Yep," he says with a wicked smirk, pulling you righter to him as his arm snakes around your waist.
"Didn't think gingers where your thing," Cormac says, posing on the side of the couch where he leans trying to look seductive but failing miserably.
"This one is," you shrug, gesturing to Fred who sends a sarcastic smirk towards McLaggen.
"Look I've made my intentions clear but you keep playing hard to get," Cormac says smugly, clearly not reading the room. "I'm top of the class in charms, keeper for the quidditch team, perfect student record and"
"Narcissistic," you add.
"A Prat?" Fred interjects at the same time.
Cormac ignores your words entirely, fixing you with a smarmy smile, "I'm a Mclaggen, why would you want to parade round with a Weasley when you could go out with me?"
The word 'Weasley' was said like a curse word with just a hint less sneering than Malfoy's way of saying it; but with just the same tone of condescension and derogation.
His verbal attack on the Weasley name did not sit right with you one bit and you couldn't hold back any longer, not when he was offending your friends.
"Because, unlike you McLaggen, Fred actually has a sense of humour, doesn't have a face like a troll and doesn't make me want to be sick when he opens his mouth," you say, trying to hold back your own sneer.
"But," he tries to say but you sarcastically smirk back at him, not willing to let him argue your statements.
"You want more? Okay," you snark, "He's a beater in the quidditch team so you're bragging is moot, he's kind and don't even get me started on how knee-shakingly tall he is. I can't think of anymore ways to tell you that I'm not attracted to you Cormac."
"So you're sticking with the Weasel then?" Cormac says with a huff after a few moments silence, staring you down.
"Looks like it to me," you shrug, choosing to ignore his turn of phrase.
"And me," Fred says harshly before turning you to face him, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw as he presses his lips to yours, pulling you in to a surprisingly passionate kiss. It takes you a second for the shock to wear off but you quickly kiss him back, no longer caring about Cormac or anything else around you. You pull apart eventually, discovering Cormac had left and you looked up at Fred with a sudden shyness at your actions.
"Knee-shaking Eh?" Fred teases, his hand moving from your hair to wrap around a strand of hair on your shoulder.
"Shut up Weasel," you snarked jokingly, nudging him with your shoulder, mirroring Cormac's apparent nickname for the jokester.
"I'm just saying, you did make some very good points there about me," he smirks, still holding you firmly in his lap. "Almost as if you had them prepared."
"Oh shove off," you laughed, nudging his arm around you so that he'd let you up, but it only seemed to fuel him to hold you ever tighter, not letting you escape. "I could have been describing anyone."
"I could describe you too you know," he says with a wiggle of his eyebrows and you push him once again to get off of you but he just laughs.
"Go on then, I'm annoying and sarcastic and," you say rolling your eyes already at the anticipated sarcasm about to fall from his lips.
"Funny and mischievous, more talented than I've ever seen anyone be at potions and devastatingly beautiful," he says, making you flick your gaze to him in surprise. You'd expected him to follow it with a joke or say it with pure sarcasm but nothing came, he simply looked down at you with honesty in his eyes and a smile tugging at his lips.
"You know, I could get used to having you in my lap, fake girlfriend or maybe not so fake girlfriend."
#emeritusemeritus#harry potter#fred weasley#fred weasley x you#emeritusemerituswrites#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley masterlist
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Hashira HEADcanons
Pairing(s): Tengen Uzui (+ His wives) Obanai Iguro, Kyojuro Rengoku, Giyuu Tomioka, Sanemi Shinazugawa x GN! Reader
Warnings: Oral (M! Revecing) | Forced gagging, Degrading, Facial (Obanai) Begging, Orgasm denial, Edging (Kyojuro) First time, Semi-public (Giyuu) Hair pulling, Implied face fucking (Sanemi)
Word count: 600+
Tengen Uzui
You had made a bet with the girls of who could take Tengen the longest. With Suma coming in last, barely able to last a minute. And Hinatsuru lasting ten minutes before politely pulling away, stating she wanted to keep the playing field fair. Makio lasted an hour, before gagging too much and pulling away. Just a few more minutes and you would beat Makio's score, declaring you the winner.
"I seriously don't understand why you're doing this," Tengen says, his arms resting behind his head. Watching you try not to gag on his cock.
"Because it's fun," Makio huffs, while Suma and Hinatsuru cheer you on. An hour and one minute, that's how long you lasted. But, you were still the winner of your little blow-job bet.
"I've been laying here for over two hours and I still haven't cum." Tengen fake pouts, making Suma tear up.
"Oh no! We have to help him!" Suma turns to look at the rest of you.
"Whoever makes him cum first wins." Makio declares another bet against you.
"Oh, you're on sweetheart!" You reply, lightly punching her arm.
Obanai Iguro
You lay on your back as your head hung off the bed, your boyfriend's cock stuffed down your throat. His balls repeatedly hit your face as he thrusts into your mouth. He presses on your throat causing you to gag.
"You love being treated like this, don't you slut?" He asks mockingly, all you could do was grab onto his hips. He hisses as you dig your nails into his skin, prompting him to press on your throat again.
"Of course, you love this. You wouldn't ask for it if you didn't like it." Obanai concludes, pulling out of your mouth and cumming on your face.
Kyojuro Rengoku
"Please, my love. Please let me cum." Kyojuro begs, bucking his hips to try and get some sort of stimulation. This was now your third time denying his release.
"Nope. I told you, we're going to do this all night until you admit you're wrong" You reply. It was a petty argument really, the kind of one that no one remembers the reason behind it. Yet, here you were edging the shit out of your loving husband.
"Please, I'm sorry. You were right." He whines, your warm tongue wrapped around his length.
You chuckle, sending vibrations through his cock. He thrusts his hips into your face, painting your throat white.
Giyuu Tomioka
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Giyuu asks, looking down at you.
"Mhm." You hum, kissing his leaking tip.
"I just don't think this is a good ide- ah!" He chokes on his words as he feels your warm mouth surround him. Though your knees did hurt from the rough terrain, you still bobbed your head.
Giyuu whimpered, covering his mouth with his hand "Oh, fuck~" He mumbles.
You pulled away from his throbbing cock "Are you enjoying yourself, Giyuu?"
"Y-yeah, but we should stop before someone finds us."
"No way, not until you cum." You reply, going down on him again.
Sanemi Shinazugawa
"Sanemi, please." You whine, still trying to catch your breath.
"No, I already gave you a breather." He pulls on your hair some more.
"Please, I can't do this-" You cry.
"Well, you should have thought about that sooner, huh?" He says, mockingly. "Now open, like a good slut."
You open your mouth, not wanting to get punished more so. He shoves his cock down your throat, making more tears pour down your cheeks.
But, you knew that Sanemi was nowhere near finished with you. By the end of the night, you'd be filled and covered in his cum. Well, maybe you should just learn to shut up and behave.
Star's note -> This has been sitting in my drafts for a month 😮💨
Taglist -> N/A | Join the taglist
#☆strawb3rrystar writes#☆demon slayer#demon slayer x reader#demon slayer smut#tengen uzui#tengen x reader#obanai iguro#obanai x reader#rengoku kyojuro#rengoku x reader#giyuu tomioka#giyuu x reader#sanemi shinazugawa#sanemi x reader#kny x reader#kny smut
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𝔊𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔫-𝔈𝔶𝔢𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯
Summary: You broke up with your ex more than a couple of weeks ago, and you're desperate to try and move on. Though it's more than a little difficult to do when his face and likeness seems to be everywhere. Pictured on everything from billboards to cereal to . . . Pregnancy tests?
But maybe you won't have to move on after all.
Warnings: Mammon is a warning all on his own. 18+ content. Minors DNI! AFAB, Fem pronouns. Some unhealthy relationship dynamics (this is probably the healthiest I could realistically make Mammon), some fluff. Jealous Mammon: voyeurism (sex while on a phone call); degradation kink; mirror sex; D/S dynamics; clothed m, naked f; biting; a web as a collar; cockwarming; overstimulation; multiple orgasms; PinV; cream pie; blink and you'll miss it electro play; oral (M receiving); size kink, height difference, belly bulge; honestly, these tags make this sound a lot more intense than it is.
Notes: 26.3k words. Not proofread. Warning divider @cafekitsune. Probably one of the most self-indulgent pieces I've ever written. I have no idea what possessed me to write for this absolute garbage disposal of a man - entity? - but here we are. I've long since stopped trying to make excuses for this. It just is what it is. His sh*t personality and adorable face has captivated me.
It's not explicitly stated but the Reader is heavily implied to be a Succubus.
This was absolute torture. Each day that has passed you by seemed to crawl through the hypothetical hourglass in a reluctant, slow drag, like the universe was intent on leaving you alone to drown in your thoughts; dark, isolating, hopeless thoughts that clung to you with long, cold claws. There was no reprieve. There hadn't been for weeks. And instead of healing and drawing to a close, it seems like that aching, lonely pit that's been sliced into the pulse of your chest has only grown wider, and now it feels as though it might swallow you whole with flaying, gnashing teeth.
And to make matters worse, it's your fault. You were the one who decided to break things off with him. You were the one who said that the relationship was hopeless. That it wasn't going anywhere and the both of you were just rushing towards an inevitable dead end that would just wound you both. You believed you were doing the right thing at the time. Saving you both from the heartache. You were just too different. You wanted for different things and the goals and ambitions that drive you were too polarizing for you to have a healthy, coexisting relationship. And on top of that, after Fizzarolli had ended their ten-year partnership, Mammon had been hellbent on getting you to spy on the jester. Trying to utilize your position within Ozzie's restaurant to dig up dirt on the pair. You had refused, but he just wouldn't stop asking. It was enough to put a strain on what you had. You were offended that he assumed that you would just carelessly throw your friendship with the King of Lust away. That you'd betray his trust. For a little while you had felt so confident and vindicated in your discission in leaving the King of Greed. But here and now, you can't help but to second guess yourself. And the ceaseless chatter of the that tiny voice in the back of your head keeps telling you that you've made a mistake -
No.
Nope.
You were not going to let yourself go down that route. You did the right thing. You did what was best for yourself and sometimes the right thing hurts to do, but it will be all right. You'll survive. You just need time to move on that's all. And then you'll be able to get yourself together. Remind yourself of all of the experiences and people that you had missed out on since you've been in a relationship and then you'll be a brand-new person, prepared for life and all of its opportunities.
But it was a bit difficult to move on when the person that you were trying to get over was literally plastered over every inch of Hell. Seven Rings and all, he had found a way to weasel himself into every facet of everyday life, to the point that it is actually insane. You're surprised that you had never noticed it before. But now, ever since the breakup, you've been horribly hyperaware of all of the ways that he has marketed himself across the city - even in a Ring that isn't his. Billboards, TV commercials, magazine covers, even on the plastic packaging for diapers - he hates kids! What does he know about diapers?!
You couldn't even go without seeing his face when you were paying for things. You had never wanted to set a bill of money on fire before, but the urge had become increasingly difficult to fight when you had offered to pay for dinner last week with your friends, and you been reminded of the fact that his likeness is featured on the banknote for a hundred souls.
You couldn't even go the corner store to stock up on your depleted supply of alcohol without stumbling upon that wide, jagged grin. It was irritating. It made you feel nauseous and sick - mostly because whenever you saw that familiar sneer an array of lovesick butterflies burst inside of your stomach; always closely followed by an adoring, fuzzy warmth that sweeps across your spine and burns at your cheeks. It's disgusting. Obnoxious. And not even the sound of some other customer loudly coughing a few aisles across from you nor the repetitive buzz of the stark, pale florescent lights hanging from the ceiling above are enough to pull you out of those old feelings. They cling to you like a kind of residue. Sticky, thick and stubborn. And even worse is the fact that you find comfort in it. It's familiar. It's warm. And a part of you can't bear to part with it.
Ugh, you're hopeless.
You reach for the bottle you came for - Beelzejuice, which is admittedly too cloying of a drink for you. It could make you sick with its sweetness if you consumed too much, but it got you drunk fast, and as of right now that's all you wanted. You wanted to forget. Even if it was only temporary. But even with your chosen liquor in hand, your eyes keep straying over to the bottle with his face on it. Some cheap knock-off brand, it seems. A watered down and bland substitute, but it looks to be like it might be one of the most expensive beverages on the entire shelf, because why wouldn't it be?
The portrait of his face on the label is a simple sketch, similar to the rudimentary doodle that he always adds next to his signature, but it's still enough to have your heartbeat skip wistfully. It's a familiar brand of alcohol. One that you had found in his liquor cabinet several times. A poor duplicate of one of Satan's brands of whiskey. You had never gotten around to trying it honestly, and you wouldn't be trying it tonight. Not even with his adorable face sketched out on the labe-
You jerk away from the shelf with a colorful string of profanity huffed out underneath your breath, strained and exhausted. This entire situation has you run ragged. Tired with yourself and your feelings and your apparent inability to just. Move. On!
You outwardly groan, squeezing tight onto the neck of the bottle in your grip, swinging your head back on your shoulders. The glare of the lights above isn't even enough to stray you from your thoughts. And for a moment you just stare upward, ignoring the dull sting that the pale glint projects against your eyes while you rove them over the water damaged stains on the ceiling, pointlessly making shapes in the splotches. Trying to look for some kind of distraction, no matter how stupid it may be. But you can only quietly stand in the aisle for so long before you're kicked out for loitering.
"Dammit," You swear, dropping your gaze back down again, vision skipping around the store, over the colorful array of saturated products and the few other people randomly scattered about the floor. It gives you pause when it lands on someone who's standing only a few feet away from you, in front of the shelving facing your back. But irritation flares when you notice that they're watching you with a somewhat animated expression. There's a smile quirking at the corners of his mouth and despite the friendly aura surrounding him, the weight of his eyes has your skin prickling uncomfortably. And even with you telling yourself to just shrug it off, to just ignore him and continue on with your night, you can't hold in your annoyance.
"The hell are you looking at?" You snap, glaring with a snarl.
The Imp blinks, shoulders drawing up tight like he's surprised, and the reaction just serves to irritate you even more. But before you can get another remark, another demon is breezing past you and joining his side with a sunny expression on their face. The guilt and humiliation that settles over you feels like a set of talons running down your back, and you immediately want to shrink into yourself and vanish. You can't fight off the cringe that sweeps over your body, and you struggle to give them an apologetic, strained smile, lifting the hand holding the bottle of mead up to give an awkward wave, and the alcohol inside sloshes around in a way that seems to hammer home your embarrassing predicament.
He doesn't return the look, instead he's looping arms with his lover and leading them out of the aisle all together, but not without shooting you a wary glance over his shoulder and you hear him whisper lowly in their ear before they both disappear around the shelving: "Don't make eye contact with her. She might be a biter."
You need to chill out. You're acting completely erratic, and towards people who don't deserve it. Complete strangers who were probably just here to pick up some junk food and a slurpy, and now they get to go home and talk about the crazy lady standing in the liquor aisle.
It would be fine. Everything would be okay once you just get home.
Everything was indeed not fine. In fact, it might have been worse.
It started out normal enough. You went about your regular routine. Or the routine that you had adopted these past few weeks anyways, which usually consisted of an occasional glass of alcohol and a bowl of ice cream, eating and drinking your feelings while you watched whatever mindless trashy show is currently playing on TV. You try to do some kind of selfcare. Anything to keep you from drowning and getting pulled down into the dredges of your pathetic longing and angst. Tonight, that meant painting your nails and applying a face mask that smelt of pineapples and nectar. And for a moment it was actually nice. It felt peaceful even.
You had slid the glass door that led to your compact outside balcony open, letting in the distant lull of the traffic down below and the scent of the balmy night breeze inside your apartment. That was always a plus to the Lust Ring, that even with the heavy population and the smog of the bustling, neon city, the air here always seems to be a little perfumed, subtly sugared and almost a little heady.
You were humming yourself, perched up on the soft cushioning of your couch, barely registering the angry shouting coming from the speakers of your television. It's probably just two of the ladies fighting again. Tension is going to be at an all-time high considering that Luz is getting married, and she didn't invite Opal to the wedding. Things were bound to get messy. But even with your interest piqued you could hardly get yourself to glance up from your work while you apply coats of a cheerful yellow nail polish to your toes. It wasn't your first choice, but you figured that it was a happy color. And you had hoped that maybe it would make you feel better. It didn't. You had decided halfway through that it was an awful decision. Whether it was because of the particular shade, you don't know, but you found yourself observing the polish underneath the warm glow of your lamp with a mild sense of regret.
Oh, well, it's not like you can't change it.
You lift your focus up from your feet that you had propped up against the lip of the coffee table, scanning the counter for the bottle of acetone, but you come up empty. There's nothing but your glass of mead and the half-melted bowl of cookies n' cream that you had forgotten most of the way into painting your nails. You could have sworn that you had grabbed it and a handful of cotton pads and swabs from your bathroom before you had started, but apparently you didn't.
And then -
You hardly even make out the words, you just hear the voice. That horribly familiar voice, raised in that accented lilt. It has you perking up subconsciously. Your head jerks like it's being tugged on an invisible string, threatening to give you whip lash with your full attention zeroing in on the screen and your body twists in its hunched position to sit ramrod straight. And for one fleeting moment, you hope that your ears are just playing a trick on you. That the universe was kind enough to give you a break within the comfort of your own home, but that small glimmer of optimism is quickly snuffed out like a weak flame when a blur of various shades of green streaks across the screen, accompanied by the jingling of bells and coins. And then there he is.
Ruining the most recent episode of the Housewives of Sin City.
This absolute hell. Well, yeah it is literally. But figuratively as well.
What is he even doing on this show? You can't recall him mentioning to have an interest in it or any of the stars a single time that you had been together. Except for maybe that one time he had found you watching it, and he had casually asked you about one of the wives who had been in the throes of an enraged outburst, while shoving a handful of chips into his mouth, speaking around the mouthful: "What's wrong with that skank? She on the rag or something?"
But now, he's apparently a guest at Luz's wedding. How that's even possibly - why that's even possible doesn't add up. And the shock and irritation running throughout your body like an electrical current has twisted up the features of your face, causing the moisturizing mask placed over your skin to lose its grip, suddenly peeling itself from its hold to fall onto the carpet in a flat flop near your feet.
You don't even give it any mind. Instead, you're looking for an outlet, blindly reaching for the nearest object to throw and your hand snatches up an old Loo Loo Land apple plushie next to you on the couch for you to hurtle at the screen. It makes impact with a pitiful squeak before plopping on the floor and the TV doesn't so much as rattle from the hit, which is honestly a blessing as much as you'd love to see the glass projecting the image of his grinning face to crack and split down the middle. But you can hardly find it in yourself to be thankful for that little fact. You're annoyed and angry and hurt.
Actually seeing him in motion and not in the form of pictures or drawings is just picking at that fresh wound that's still openly bleeding. And suddenly, those three long years of being at his side have never felt so far and yet so close: looming and almost painful. You lurch for your phone, scooping it off of the table to fervently scroll through your contacts. You briefly pause on Fizz's name, and for a second you consider calling him. He would understand. He would sympathize with what it's like to struggle with learning to let go of Mammon's influence and figuring out how to move on. But that wouldn't be fair. Not to him. Not after he's just recently cut ties with the King of Greed, and officially dropped the Sin as his mentor. It would be opening up a cut that he's still beginning to heal.
It has you scrolling your thumb down a little bit further until you find Lottie's number and you press it without much thought, other than the fleeting wish that you weren't interrupting her. She should be free from her shift at the firm by now; it's late enough. But with each trill of the phones ringback tone you get a little more unsure, and the sinking feeling that she's busy, that you've disturbed her nearly has you ending the call. The image of her caller ID posted in the background doesn't help either.
You know that she won't be angry about you contacting her. She's actually been pretty insistent that you do just that if you ever begin to feel overwhelmed or upset, but suddenly the sight of her joyful, beaming face doesn't seem so jovial anymore, and the scarlet glint of her eyes seems accusing and harsh. It's enough to have you second guessing yourself, but just as you're about to press on the red button on your screen, she answers.
The comfort that floods over you lifts from your body like a sack full of bricks and you breathe an audible sigh of relief when you set the call to an open speaker. "I think I'm going crazy," you blurt. You almost wince at the lack of tact, but you can't help it with all of the emotions and stress rising to the surface, forcing all of your worries to spill out of you like a flooding geyser. "Everywhere I look, he's there! How am I supposed to move on when he's shoved in my face every second of the day? I went to the store a few hours ago, and he was all over the place; on cereal boxes and chip bags and fucking laxatives-"
"Okay, okay, okay, " her voice soothes firmly, successfully grabbing you attention enough to get you to just stop talking. "Listen. I really don't think that you're giving yourself enough time to move on from this. I mean, it's been what? Maybe just a little over a month?"
"Yeah, " you nod dejectedly, scooping up some of your liquified ice cream on to the spoon to drink. "Just about three weeks."
She hums lowly. "So, you two were together - surprisingly - for a few years. All of those feelings aren't just going to dry up overnight, babe."
"Ugh, I know!" You whine in an elongated groan, dropping the spoon back into the ceramic bowl with a noisy clatter. You tighten the grip that you have on your phone so that it doesn't go flying out of your hand when you let yourself fall face first into the couch cushions, not caring if it stunts your breathing and when you speak next your voice is slightly muffled. "It's just so frustrating. I don't know what's holding me back. I mean, I really don't even know what I had ever seen in him in the first place."
You hear her scoff on the other end and there's a clipped humorless laugh tainting the sound. "His money? Well, no he's too cheap to even spend it - whatever. Either way, I'm glad you finally woke up to his bullshit. The guy's a total sleaze."
The comment makes you bristle despite your pervious statement, but you can only manage a grunt in response, tired and low while you turn your head, moving from the press of the cushions to finally allow yourself to breathe properly without inhaling the bits of perfume and dust that have undoubtedly gotten caught within the velvet fabric. You've heard all of the confused whispers and frustrated remarks for years. From Lottie and Ozzie and many of the other performers and staff at the restaurant, none of them were shy in voicing their bewilderment over your relationship with the Sin of Greed. They weren't looking down at you per se. You could tell that the side eyed glances and chatter all came from a place of good will and genuine concern - "He just isn't a good person, darling." Asmodeus had told you once. "I know him better than just about anyone and believe me when I tell you that he'll chew you up for all your worth and spit you out when he's finished licking up the bones. You deserve better." - but they still frustrated you.
In the past you had told yourself that they just didn't understand him like you did. That underneath all of the selfishness and confetti and snark that there was something that cared. What a complete blind, fool you had been.
Your eyes land on the TV screen, letting you defeatedly take in the sight of him on stage, guitar in his hands while he belts out one of his songs on an exuberantly decorated stage with champagne colored streamers and the glimmer of coins (fake of course, he'd never use the real thing out of the risk of other demons scooping the change off the floor and stealing it) falling around him, and a row of golden cannons shoot off explosions of sparkling fire and pyrotechnics. He's no doubt eclipsing the wedding ceremony with the act but knowing him that was entirely the point.
So he's there as the part of the entertainment then. He's got to be charging them out the ass for this performance.
You let yourself admire him, sweeping over the neon green of his eyes and the round shape of his face. You could almost feel the cool sensation of his cheeks against your palms. He's always ran a little on the colder side; a little chilled to the touch no matter how heated the atmosphere around him may be. But you had never minded. And you find yourself longing to brush your thumbs along his skin, to feel the weight of his face underneath your fingertips like you've done at least a thousand times.
"He is still a little cute," you remark, melancholic but a little loving too.
Lottie sighs on the other end, ragged and weary but then her breath snags and a small bout of silence hangs over you both. "Is that - is that him singing? Are you watching him?" She accuses, tone saturated in disbelief. She makes you feel like you're being berated by your mother. Like you're a child being caught doing something that you shouldn't have, and it has shame stinging at your cheeks.
"I was watching my show," you defend yourself, eyebrow furrowing as you observe him break into the songs verse. "And then he decided to show up."
"Oh, for fucks sake," she grouses. You can tell that she's shaking her head on the other end. Probably pacing, too. "All right, we're going to do something about this."
That both intrigues and concerns you and you perk up just a little bit. "Do 'what' exactly?"
She doesn't immediately answer and that sets you on edge. You can still hear her shuffling around on the opposite line and it has tension setting in your muscles while your brain tries to scramble around for whatever it is that she's trying to plan or set up, but your mind keeps coming up frustratingly empty. "Seriously, what are you doing?"
"I . . . " she begins a little distractedly. "Am setting you up on a date."
It feels like a bullet has fired your heart out from your chest in sharp burst and the shock is enough to have you clambering up from your flopped over position to glare down at your phone. You can taste the adrenaline on your tongue like something acrid. For a moment you can hardly get the jumbled words out from your throat, and you're left sitting frozen with your mouth hanging open dumbly. " You . . . Wh - " Your eyebrows pinch close. "You what? With who?"
"Do you remember that coworker that I told you about? The hot paralegal?"
You hum to yourself, trying to jog the memory free but nothing familiar rises up to greet you. "No," you answer bluntly, picking at a loose thread from the couch cushion.
The admittance doesn't seem to dampen her excitement in the slightest. "Well, he's nice and Sherry said that he has a massive dic - "
"Okay, I get it!" You say quickly.
"And I think this will be good for you," she says, tone dipping into something gentle and soothing. "I mean, I know I said to take time to move past this, but maybe you could use this as a reason to get out. To take your mind off of things - it won't be anything serious! Just a . . . distraction."
Your lips purse and you can feel a refusal rising up from your lungs, but then your eyes are drifting back over to the TV. The bitter taste of disappointment hits you like a mouthful of lime juice when you see that he's been replaced on screen with one of the wives during a confessional scene, and it serves as a harsh reminder of how pitifully stuck on him you are. Sure, you know that you only need a little bit of time to completely move on, but Lottie's right. Maybe a harmless little date wouldn't hurt. Maybe it would be enough to finally help you to pry those bits of affection and devotion from him and take back your life. "Okay, " you relent wearily.
She exclaims in a burst of excitement, and a part of you loathes how happy she sounds while you're currently stewing in your own misery. "Great! I already texted him about it, but I'll send you his number."
You hum to let her know that she's been heard, a little absentminded while you continue to stare at the screen with some piteous part of you waiting for him to pop back up on the TV. The phone call drifts from there, directing back over to Lottie's day. A nice reprieve from thinking about your own, but as selfish as it is, it's hard to try and pay her words any attention while you're buried under your own emotions. You can't help but be a little bit thankful when she has to end the call, having to turn in for the night in the preparation of some early meeting in the morning.
It leaves you to just sit in silence, with your bowl of melted ice cream propped in your lap while you mindlessly watch TV, seeing the content flit across the screen but not registering it. You had made yourself change the channel about fifteen minutes ago, even when your thumb had stubbornly hovered over the controls of the remote while your subconscious waited for that familiar grin to show back up on the screen. And that fleeting little thought had been enough to get you to mash down on the channel button until you landed on an entirely random program. Some renovation show, about taking homes from demons struggling against foreclosure to remodel the seized properties into luxury houses for reselling to the wealthy and famous.
A lot of the designs were just beyond absurd. Like the bathroom with a mini golf course built into the flooring or the laser tag arena that was merged with a sex dungeon. It was an odd union of hobby and . . . necessity?
And that's where you stayed for an indiscernible amount of time without moving apart from a small shuffle to readjust; you had long since forgotten your intention to remove the yellow polish from your nails. You were steadily nursing on your glass of Beelzejuice, fighting off the slight wince on your face whenever you took a sip. Between the saccharine, syrupy flavor and the burn of the alcohol whenever you swallowed it down, you were hitting close to your limit for the night. Fortunately, a nice, relaxed haze was already settling over you and fizzling at your limbs and fingertips. And for a few blissful moments, you didn't have any clamoring, distracting thoughts or feelings welling up and threatening to stretch you thin. It felt like peace.
You had texted the number that Lottie had sent you a little while ago - Hugo, it seemed his name was - just to try and make an effort, even if it was a reluctant one. It was just a quick hello, nothing much more than that, and you hadn't built up the courage to check and see if he had responded to you. It was so odd. The entire situation and you hate how much you feel guilty about accepting an invitation for the date. It had some acidic, nasty sensation bubbling in the pit of your chest; sharp and cold, but luckily the potency of the alcohol was enough to distract you.
Not for long though, because the show is switching to a commercial break and once again the familiar sight of a layered, pointed clown costume drops across the screen, encapsulated around the looming shape a figure that you know all too well. His voice is raised, meant to grab the viewers' attention easily as he breaks into a pitch meant to entice the watcher into buying his newly manufactured sex robots, modeled after a pair of twins from the Envy Ring.
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Your entire body seems to sag, weighed down with defeat, and you swear you can feel tears prickling at your waterline as he leans closer towards the camera, twirling his staff with one of his upmost hands. And for a while you don't even hear what he's saying. You're too busy being forced to watch him while he cavorts around a simple, plum purple background with a pair of robots obediently stationed behind him. And it isn't until he reaches for the both of them and presses them both up against his sides with a somewhat provocative grin stretched over his face that your mind seems to focus, and his indistinct salesman speech becomes fully audible.
" - each sold separately! But if you purchase the both of them in a package deal, then you'll have double the fun for the low, low price of two thousand, six hundred and ninety dollars - not including tax! C'mon! Don't be a cheapskate - " He leans forward, eyes narrowing while his voice subtly shifts a few octaves lower in a threatening rumble - "you better get 'em both, you sick fuck! Ya know you want to!"
Your hand seems to raise on its own, gripping onto the remote and smashing down on the power button, causing the screen to go black, saving yourself and your sanity from having to look at him for a second longer.
It's safe to say that sleep didn't come easily that night. You had tossed and turned for hours on end, and it wasn't until the dawn was rising in the horizon in a blossom of pale lavender and peach hue that you were able to pass out from pure exhaustion. The next few days continued as they usually do with preforming down at the restaurant and going out for drinks with your coworkers afterwards. You had begun to text Hugo within that time, and you felt a bit of consolation to know that he too wasn't looking for anything particularly serious, having been out of the dating game for a few years after spending his focus on furthering himself in his field of work. The both of you had unanimously agreed that whatever was going to take place between you would be entirely casual. It was after two days of speaking that he had asked to take you out for dinner, and with Lottie's words echoing loudly inside your head, you had agreed.
It wasn't until you were getting ready that night that your reality had officially sunk in. That you're actually going to go out on a date with a man that you hardly even knew. After three years of remaining in a relationship it felt like such a strange concept. You had never imagined yourself with any other person but Mammon. And now here you were, rummaging around in your closest for something to wear. Shoving through the mountain made of Thing plushies and all of the other miscellaneous trinkets that he had sent you once he had realized that you were indeed serious about ending the relationship, just to try and get to the clothes hanging from the closet rod.
You had thrown most of his little 'peace offerings' away at first, but after the fourth day of having to carry the armfuls of Mammon plushies and oddly enough, Loo Loo Land novelty cups (you're fairly sure that he was just sending you stuff that he had found in inventory) down to the garbage hatch down the hallway, you had just begun to shove it all into your closet instead. The questioning stares from your neighbors had always felt too invasive whenever they'd watch you slip down the corridor with his pathetic attempts at bribing you back into a relationship clutched to your chest in the shape of stupid toys and knickknacks.
You actually manage a smile when you successfully tug the hanger holding your chosen dress free from the confines of the closet, but you don't even bother trying to fight against the scattered collection of plushies by attempting to close the door to your closet. Not with the way that they've tumbled out from the confines of the snug little alcove and onto the floor. It would be a losing battle, and you don't have time for that with the clock steadily ticking. You were quick to rush off to the bathroom, taking care to spend time on styling your hair as best as you could and making yourself presentable, spraying on a few puffs of perfume across your body.
You had been fine throughout the entire process. The nervousness settling in your gut had been noticeable but manageable. It was faint enough to keep your mind off of it, to push it down and ignore. It wasn't until you were actually at the decided upon restaurant and sitting across from Hugo at a candle lit table for two that the restlessness and hesitancy become unavoidable. And you had long since forgotten your food, far too nervous to eat. It had you trying to distract yourself from the wild thrum of your heart beating in your chest by looking around the dining room, admiring the pale, iridescent shimmer of the dramatic crystal chandeliers hanging above the array of tables and the large, carved marble statues placed along the circumference of the great the walls.
"Are you all right?" Hugo suddenly asks, breaking from your trance. Your attention snaps over to him, making the jewelry hanging from your earlobes jingle.
"Yeah, of course," you reassure quickly, playing with the stem of your wine glass somewhat distractedly. "I'm just getting reused to this sort of thing. It's been a while since I've been on a date with someone new."
He smiles, nodding in understanding way while he prods at his food. "Well, we're both in the same boat in that regard." The burgundy shade of his irises shimmer underneath the gentle glow of the candles flame. "It's no pressure, remember? This is purely casual."
It has you breathing a visible sigh of relief, and the entirety of your body relaxes while you let yourself rest your weight on the table with your elbows. It was something that he has told you before, but it was nice to hear it in the moment, face to face. Hugo moves a bit closer, and the motion looks a little awkward. A little unsure, and as bad as it may sound, it was almost pleasant to see that he too is removed from his comfort zone. That you're not the only one that's entirely out of their depth.
"I hope that this isn't too forward, but why did you agree to even do this?" He asks. "It's just, from how Lottie described it, it was all sport of sudden."
The question gives you pause, as straight forward as it is and for a moment you find yourself without a proper response. He did say that this entire outing was casual, no strings attached. But even then, it isn't exactly appropriate to say that you were just trying to get out of the house because you were going clinically insane; that you're out here on your night off, drinking wine that's entirely too expensive because everywhere you look, you see your ex's face and it's been wearing down on your resolve little by little like pressure on a weak, torn rope. Sure, you have the potential to be an asshole, but even that feels a little insensitive.
You had told him that you had just recently gotten out of a relationship, but he has no clue just how fresh the separation actually is. And you have no idea what Lottie may have said to him, but as of right now you'd like to try and keep your personal business to a minimum if at all possible. Satan forbid you accidentally mention just who you ex is. That last thing you need to deal with is him getting intimidated and running off because you used to have tied with the incarnation of Greed.
"Honestly?" You say, absentmindedly tapping your nails along the stem of your glass with a soft shrug. "As superficial as it is, Lottie said that she knew about a hot guy that was single and looking for a night out. I agreed."
He chuckles at that, playing coy but you notice the subtle way that he preens under the casual compliment. The hint of a smile curling at the corners of his lips, and the slight spike of lust that trickles across the air. It's low, a blink and you'll miss it scent; heady and a little warm, and the faint thrum of it nudges against your body like a hesitant touch before it vanishes. But despite your instinct to chase after that minute pulse of desire and cultivate it into something more, you find yourself completely uninspired to do just that. As dejected and disappointed as it makes you in yourself, you'd honestly rather spend the remainder of your evening catching up on your TV shows than wasting it between the sheets with him. But then again, that doesn't have to be the point of tonight. Tonight, you're just here to get out. To remind yourself of what's out there. You have to try.
"Was she right?" He speaks suddenly just as your taking a sip from of your wine, leaving you to tilt your head curiously with an intrigued hum. "Am I hot?"
You lower your glass, drinking the swig down and you make a show of eyeing him while you debate on how you really want this night to go. This could be a simple time out on the town, or you could truly try to go down the opposite route and wind up in some trashy No-Tell-Motel a few blocks down the strip. He seems receptive enough. In fact, despite his earlier statements, you're more than sure that he wouldn't be opposed to a little harmless fling. And maybe it would help you forget Mammon, even if just for a little while. But is that really what you want though . . ?
"Hmm, ask me later tonight," is all you say, smirking softly, and there it is again. That dim heated little pulse that leaves him and threads across the atmosphere. It should be enough to interest that deep, primal part of your psyche, but there's absolutely nothing.
"So, what did your ex do, if you don't mind my asking, " he says, and you struggle to keep the smile on your face present at the mention of Mammon. " Sorry, I'm just trying to figure out what kind of expectations I'm supposed to be meeting."
Well, that shouldn't be all that difficult to surpass. Not with how self-absorbed and oblivious Mammon has always been. And truthfully, Hugo was attractive - or hot, as Lottie had promised. Sure, you had seen pictures of him with all of the texting that the both of you had done but seeing him in person was somehow all the better. It was easy to see that he takes care of himself. His eyes are gorgeous, sharp and expressive and the suit that he wears is no doubt expensive. And with how considerate and patient that he had been with you throughout your entire time together, he didn't have much to worry about in terms of acceding past the standard that Mammon had set.
"He was . . . " You wrack your mind for a way to delicately leave out the hints that your ex just so happens to be the King of Greed. You really won't be able to handle the entire slew of questions that would no doubt come from that little nugget of information. " A performer . . . " You settle with a squint. "And a businessman of sorts. "
"Oh, yeah? Is it possible that he's been in anything that I've seen before?" He questions conversationally.
Yes. It's very, very possible. "No," you shake your head with what you hope is a neutral expression on your face. "I doubt it."
You take a quick sip of your wine, desperate for some sort of liquid courage to dull the low turning of your stomach. He hums softly, letting you know that he's heard you and pats his mouth clean for any traces of food.
"So, did you work together then?" He tilts his head in a curious kind of way, and the inquiry has your eyebrows furrowing incredulously, prompting him to clarify. "You said he was a performer. You work at Ozzie's, right?"
"Uh, yeah," you admit. "But no. He's business partners with my boss, so he pops in for meetings every now and again. That's how we met." You clear your throat, shifting in your seat to try and regain a sense of comfortability. The memory always leaves you feeling a bit confused. A little torn and stretched between contrast of a fond sense of love and nostalgia but reversibly the bitter sting of loathing and regret. It leaves you a jumbled mess. Stuck because you can't help but wonder just what you had ever seen in Mammon, but it's even worse because all those affections still haven't fully waned. Even before you had fully become acquainted with the Sin of Greed there'd always been that odd sort of intrigue that would pull at you whenever he had arrived at Ozzie's for a meeting; typically, a discussion over the production of Fizzbot's much to Asmodeus' chagrin.
Your boss was never enthused over Mammon's presence in his restaurant, mostly because the Sin would always try to scout new talent to exploit in the shape of Ozzie's employees whenever he was present (not to mention that massive tab that he had racked up at the bar and the kitchen that he always manages to weasel out of paying). And you had been one of those employees yourself. You had been pulled over by the King of Greed one night after your routine, and he had shamelessly tried persuading you in becoming one of his performers directly in front of Ozzie, offering you fame and money and fans beyond your wildest fantasies. Naturally, you had declined the proposal.
The refusal had visibly rubbed him the wrong way, with him no doubt taking it as blow to his pride and his image, but he hadn't let it stop him. Every time that he came in for that monthly meeting, he'd make sure to pop the question, and you'd gently let him down each time. But for whatever reason, his persistence never bothered you. It was almost fun in fact, like a game of cat and mouse. It was entertaining, in a strange sort of way, like the both of you were waiting each other out to see who'd crack first. You actually enjoyed his company. He was brash, garish and vulgar. The jokes that he made were always at another expense and he was insensitive to the point it was concerning, but for some reason you found yourself inexplicably drawn to him. He made you laugh; he let you be yourself, and the both of you could spend hours gossiping amongst yourselves and trashing other demons, laughing at their misfortune and mistakes. Was it rude? Absolutely. But with him, that was perfectly fine. He was a complete douche (still is) but he had never really flirted with you, he'd never given much of an indication that he was interested in you in a sexual nature, apart from admiring your talents on the stage it was a nice break from all of the constant salivating customers that would clamor up against the edge of the platform and ogle you throughout your shift. It was nice just having a conversation with someone who wasn't expecting or wishing to get some cheap blowjob backstage. Ironically enough, one of the most exploitative beings in all of the seven circles of Hell managed to make you feel the most normal. Like you were more than just your basest functions, more than lust and a performer.
It had been Asmodeus who had recognized when your intrigue in the Sin of Greed had melted past an amused kind of fascination and into endearment and desire. He had seen the shift in your emotions long before you had, and you had vehemently shrugged off his gentle accusations for months on end. Insisting that he was reading into the weird type of kinship that you had fashioned Mammon all wrong. You had insisted that you were just friends. You just found him interesting, that's all.
But unfortunately, Ozzie had been right.
"Is it okay if we change topics?" You ask suddenly, desperate to get out of your head. To quit reliving old, painful memories. " It's just - talking about my ex, you know?"
Something sheepish and a little ashamed flits across his face and he's immediately apologizing. "Oh, I'm sorry. That was a little insensitive of me."
"It's okay," you say truthfully, shrugging with a soft smile. "So, do you have any kind of hobbies?"
The conversation diverges for there - thankfully, carrying on while you both try to learn about each other. It leads you to discover that Hugo has a multitude of talents, such as being able to play several kinds of musical instruments and he has a proclivity for painting and a fondness for cooking that was cultivated by his grandfather. He was quick to offer to teach you how to make a dish from the Wrath Ring for your next date, after he learned that you aren't all the adept at the culinary arts, mostly due to the lack of interest.
He's undeniably a sweet guy. He seems to be generous and easy going, but despite all of that you still can't hide from that sharp, nagging feeling that's been picking at you the entire night. The realization that there just isn't much of spark regardless of how charming and gentle he seems to be. And although conversing with him is easy, nice even, to a degree it feels like talking with a coworker or a catching up with a friend. But maybe the lack of attraction wasn't the only thing to blame. The entire night there's been this harsh, laughable sense of guilt and betrayal brewing inside of you, almost like you being on this date with Hugo is somehow cheating. But that's entirely stupid. Not to mention that it doesn't make any sense. Those bitter emotions shouldn't have any footing because you and Mammon aren't a couple anymore, but it's almost like your feelings and heart haven't accepted that yet.
And it leaves you admittedly a little distracted, until you're just mindlessly nodding and laughing whenever it's the appropriate response. Eventually you're just sleepwalking throughout the entire dinner; your body is present, but your mind definitely isn't. Suddenly it's hard to keep yourself in place and your eyes start shifting around the dinning room like you're in search of an exit. This is too much too soon. You shouldn't have agreed to this. You shouldn't be here.
And in your internal panicking you couldn't keep yourself from covertly slipping your hand into your purse hanging from the back of your chair to retrieve your phone while Hugo isn't looking, too busy animatedly scanning his eyes around the room while he's reminiscing about some past vacation on an island resort in Envy. The sting of guilt makes you slightly shuffle in your seat like you might be able to shake the feeling free, but it doesn't keep you from hiding your phone underneath the table in the clasp of your hand while you tap the messaging app and search for Lottie's name. Maybe if you were able to explain yourself to her, she'd help to bail you out. Maybe you could get her to give you a fake call and come up with an excuse-
You freeze, focus landing on the name posted directly underneath hers.
Moo💚
It's such a dumb nickname, and honestly aren't even sure where it had come from. You had just started using it one day, and you stuck with it because even when Mammon would grumble under his breath and roll his eyes like every utterance of the pet name costed a year of his immortal life, you would always see that monochrome blush tinting his cheeks at the sound of it. He'd get offended if you addressed him as anything else; one morning when your brain was still sluggish and dulled by the cloud of sleep, you had called him 'Mammon' and he had elected to give you the silent treatment until you were finally able to figure out just what exactly you had done wrong. And it would make your chest turn fuzzy and soft whenever you'd see the reaction that it garnered from him, full of devotion and affection.
And now the simple nickname, something you had felt nothing but fondness for, feels like it's mocking you. Dangling something in front of your face that you'll never get to have again. You can't help yourself when you press on the contact's name, opening up your messages. It's like your heart is in your throat, heavy and trembling and threatening to suffocate you, and it takes every ounce of your frayed sense of will to keep your from reading the text thread. You could remember the last couple of messages that he had sent without looking over them. The last of them asking for you to 'come to your senses' and return back to one of his penthouses in Greed and when you refused the text had turned egotistical and indifferent, with him claiming that he didn't need you. That he'd do just fine without you.
And just like that your will snaps.
x/x/xx 12:43 am
fine go ahead i dont even nrrd u
x/x/xx 12:43 am
duck
x/x/xx 12:44 am
*FUCK
x/x/xx 12:44 am
*NEED
x/x/xx 12:44 am
go crawl to ozz for all i care
Those simple set of words feel like a knife to the chest; sharp and slicing and you feel those pitiful emotions rising up again, threatening to spill over in the form of tears. You don't know what causes it. If it's the sudden call of Hugo's voice, laced with concern and curiosity as he asks if you're okay, or if it's the slight tremor in your fingers that makes your thumb twitch and press the image of the call button in the corner of the screen above your messages, but when it happens your stomach feels like it falls through your ass. You visibly lurch when his caller ID pops up with an in-progress call and you audibly gasp ragged and a horrified as you slam your finger on the end call button so harshly that it's a wonder that you didn't damage your phone.
Your entire body is pulled taunt like you've been struck by a live wire, and you're sure that Hugo is more than confused because you must look as though someone has a gun pressed to the back of your head.
"Are you all right?" He repeats, leaning forward over the table to make eye contact with you.
It does enough to let you regain some control of your body, letting you pull a tight, unconvincing smile across your lips as you nod. "Yeah. I'm fine." You say, more so to yourself than to him. Honestly, you're being a little dramatic. The connection - if it could even be considered as one - couldn't have lasted for more than a split second. He probably won't even notice the missed call. More accurately, he most likely has your number blocked. You're blowing this entirely out of proportion. You're good. Everything is all right.
"I'm fine," you reiterate and luckily, you're able to make your expression a little bit more convincing.
It's fine.
The air prickles. It shifts and thrums like it's being charged by an oncoming lightning strike, and you can feel your body respond to it. Your back goes straight from the sensation of something hot and buzzing shooting down the notches of your spine while your heart flutters from anticipation in some traitorous Pavlovian response before you even hear that familiar cha-ching! jingle across the electric, pulsing atmosphere. The space directly next to you erupts in a puff of rushing lime and emerald smoke, joined by a flurry of bright, neon dollar signs and confetti that whirls over the beverages and meals belonging to the neighboring tables; effectively tainting the other patron's food in its scatter.
"Well, well, well, look who's come crawling back!"
You're experiencing so many different emotions right now; you can't even keep track of it all of it while it roars around inside of you like a deluge bursting past the battered walls of a crumbled dam. You manage to recognize a few: concern, irritation, regret and most disturbingly, relief, joy and admiration. It's like you're entire being is suddenly overloaded with conflicting information and you aren't sure what you're supposed to say or do.
In your disarray you notice that Hugo has gone still, just as surprised as you are. And the entire restaurant has fallen deathly silent, no longer noisy from the ceaseless chatter of varying conversations or the scrape of silverware on porcelain and the clinking of wine glasses. It's still. So hushed that you could hear a pin drop. Even worse, is that everyone's attention is now fixed on your table. Guests and employees alike, their focus is now on you. It's like you've been strapped down and flayed open on an operating table; you don't think you've ever felt so exposed, so judged in your entire life.
Your mouth hangs open, but nothing makes its way out, not even when Hugo shoots you a questioning look before his eyes center back onto Mammon.
"So this is who you're spending your time with now, " he remarks in that tantalizing lilt, leaning - looming over Hugo with an intrigued squint. His lower hands are folded across his stomach, but he uses the other pair to take ahold of your date by his wrists, spanning his arms open like he's inspecting a toy and his head tilts with the chime of bells. "He's a bit of a flimsy fucker, ain't he?"
The expression on Hugo's face is understandably one of bewilderment, and he lets his arms drop back onto the table counter weightlessly when Mammon releases him. You can see all of the questions burning in his stare and you know that you have to give him some kind of explanation, even if this entire situation was a complete accident on your end.
"Hugo, this is the . . . performer - uh, businessman that I was telling you about earlier," you clarify somewhat cryptically, giving him a tense smile.
His jaw drops a little, shoulders going slack with what has to be the weight of shock and possibly intimidation. "Your ex is the King of Greed?"
"Ex?" Mammon hisses, bending his body over the smaller demon while bearing his sharp teeth like he might bite and tear flesh while he jabs an accusing finger at Hugo. "What? You think just 'cause me and the missus had a little spat that you can just try and move in on my woman?"
The fucking audacity that he has.
Anger sears through you with a gravity that surprises yourself, and you stand up from your seat so abruptly that it has the legs scrapping across the smooth tiles with a sharp noise that could make you flinch if you weren't already so preoccupied. " 'Missus?' We aren't even marrie- we aren't even dating anymore! What the hell are you doing here?"
The Sin blinks at you with what might be surprised before his expression melts into something composed and neutral. "You called; I came. That's what good boyfriends do," he says, and you can hear some kind of accusation in his tone, and he jabs a finger in your direction. " I showed up for you, even after you tore my heart out and practically pissed all over it! Did it get you off? Pissing all over our love?"
The laugh that leaves you is entirely humorless, and at this point you're too upset to even consider that you're having an argument in the middle of some expensive restaurant with your ex while your date sits and watches like some kind of reluctant voyeur. "Oh, please. Because you were always so invested in our relationship, weren't you?" you snap with your tone saturated full of sarcasm. "You poured more effort into trying to figure out ways in getting back at Fizz and Ozzie than giving me even a shred of your time. You started treating us like a chore, don't even try to pretend."
You're able to find some satisfaction in the way that his eyes twitches, his composure slipping. In hindsight, it's pretty stupid trying anger someone who's capable of snuffing out your existence with the snap of his fingers, but as of right now, you can't find it in yourself to care. You want him to get mad.
"And I told already fucking told you that it was only temporary," he defends, tilting towards you to get eye level. "I'm a busy man, babes and blackmailing and ruining the life or your backstabbing, shit-stain, ex-employee takes time. " He explains casually, making your irritation spike.
"Well, that 'shit-stain, ex-employee' happens to be my friend," you hiss hotly, and your tail lashes out behind you.
"All right, maybe we should all calm down and breathe," Hugo chimes in, advising in a hesitant pitch.
Even with his suggestion hanging in the air it takes you and Mammon a moment to pull your venomous glares from each other, and onto him, but it's enough to have you revaluating your current position. You cast an awkward glace around the room, struggling not to shrink underneath the intrigued, gossip hungry stares of the other patrons. You sit yourself back down on the seat, outwardly cringing as it makes an obnoxious screech when you nudge it forward to tuck yourself back up against the table.
"If I want your opinion, you little shit, then I'll ask ya for it, " Mammon snaps with a smile that's all teeth, lethal and razor sharp.
"Then perhaps you should leave," Hugo says. Despite the firmness of his tone, you can see the way that his eyes shift nervously. Not that you could blame him. Mammon can be menacing when he's in a good mood, much less when he's genuinely displeased, and that's not even adding onto the fact the he's royalty that has an entire Ring of Hell serving as his domain. Honestly, the fact that the demon had chosen to speak up at all surprises you completely, and Mammon seems to share your astonishment if the befuddled way that his face has twisted up is any indication.
"The fuck did you just say to me?" The Sin asks, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes glint in that venomous shade of green. You can see the tension setting into his shoulders as he arches over Hugo's space, using his height to make the smaller demon lean back into his chair. You try and send your date a wary glance, warning him to tread lightly. Mammon could be a little unpredictable at best, especially with how he reacts to criticism or just basic social boundaries, so there really wasn't any way to guess how he may respond to Hugo's request. He could either laugh it off with a few harsh insults or he could lash out and try to kill the Imp entirely.
The latter of which, was the last thing that you wanted - for obvious reasons.
But Hugo doesn't heed your forewarning glances at all. He looks up at Mammon, somehow managing to school his features enough to come across as unbothered. "Well, according to her, it seems that you two are no longer in a relationship; and she's made it clear that she doesn't seem to want you here anymore. " He says. "I just think it's best to respect what she wants."
You can feel your mouth go dry and your tongue feels too thick and useless. Suddenly it's as though all of the warmth and oxygen has been syphoned out of the room, making your body tense like it's been dunked in frigid water. The grin on Mammon's face stretches just a bit too wide, and the cheerful expression almost seems a bit feral. You can feel that charged aura building up around him, not enough to create any visible static, but you can still feel it humming along your fingertips and brushing over the exposed bits of your skin. It's a decent indication to let you get a read on his mood, allowing you know that Hugo is wobbling along a very frayed tight rope right now, and any wrong miscalculation could send him spiraling down below.
For a second you think that Mammon's composure might snap but instead that wolfish quality to his sneer melts away as though it had never been there, and he looks positively jovial. Somehow that's worse.
"Ya know what!" he snaps one of his topmost fingers together. "You're right. We should give the little lady what she wants."
Hugo blinks in surprise, visibly relaxing but the buttered-up tone that Mammon uses just sets you on edge. It's too performative - even for him.
"I think that means you should be the one to leave then, mate." Mammon sighs, with a kind of artificial sympathy as he takes Hugo's glass of wine from the table and tosses the near full cup of alcohol back like it's a small sip before he leans close to the demon conspiratorially. "After all, she isn't here to move on, she's just here for a little distraction. Why she chose a limp dick like you for that, I'm still not sure. But hey! I'm not one to judge."
That stings. Mostly because there is some actual merit to his words, as awful as they are to hear. It's a tough pill to swallow, but it isn't one that you want to take from Mammon of all people. That might have been one of the most difficult things about being in a relationship with the Sin. Is that regardless of how brash and inept that he happens to be at the best of times, he's undeniably good at reading others. He knows what makes them tick or how to use their insecurities as a tool. It made it so difficult to hide the most delicate and abrasive parts of yourself from him, and you suppose that might have been you fell for him in the first place. Because you could always be the worst side of yourself, and he had never shied away from it. Not once.
"Well, I'd like you to leave . . . Your Highness," Hugo responds with halfhearted resolve, and you can hear the other tables whisper amongst themselves like they're occupying the front row seats to a drama.
And it has that horrible sinking feeling in your gut.
"Is that so? And just what the fuck are you gonna do to make me, bitch boy?" Mammon taunts, and you can hear the hint of a low growl tainting his voice. The enthusiasm and intrigue wafting from the other occupied tables in palatable, and it feels like you're all holding your breath, dreading whatever may come next but unable to look away. And you want to speak, to get Mammon's attention off of Hugo and onto you instead, but you can't manage to say a damn word. It's like your voice is stuck in your throat.
Your date opens his mouth, to possibly defend himself or relent, but he never gets to opportunity to because one of Mammon's hands is lashing out in a quick blur, grabbing Hugo by the throat. The other sets of his eyes have appeared, glinting with a violent glare of chartreuse and the sibilant sound, similar to the hiss of a rattlesnake's quivering tail, or the disturbed hiss of a cicada puffs from his chest. He raises Hugo up to his level, making the Imps feet dangle pathetically above the floor while his tail lashes wildly. Mammon's lips curl in a nasty sneer, dripping with satisfaction and aggression. "I could break you, pipsqueak. Be careful not to piss me off more than you already have, yeah?"
The grip around Hugo's neck way deadly, and you could see his eyes beginning to bulge from underneath the weight of the Sin's iron hold, making him look like some kind of fucked up chew toy. One good squeeze and he's as good as dead. "I can't believe this is the little fucker you tried to replace me with," he jeers, dangling the smaller Imp like a rag doll.
Finally, all of the tension and chaos is enough to break you from your stupor, letting you reclaim control of your limbs to leap out from your chair for the second time of the night. "Mammon!" You shout, by the Sin doesn't seem to even register that you're speaking with the way that he doesn't so much as spare you a glance. His eyes are fixed onto the demon whose windpipe he has his fingers tightly secured around.
"Mammon! Put him down." You snatch ahold of one of the Sin's wrists, tugging on his arm. "Let. Him. Go, " you warn through gritted teeth, even though you're probably about as intimidating to him as gentle breeze.
Mammon finally spares you glance, the sadistic cheer shifting from his face as his eyes cast down to yours. Hugo continues to thrash around wildly, like a fish tossed out onto a dock but the King of Greed doesn't seem to be in any rush to release him. Instead, he's sighing, exasperated and fully disappointed when he notices your enraged glare, and even without any visual pupils or irises you can still tell that he's rolling his eyes at you. "All right, all right, don't get yer thong in a twist, " he scoffs; frustrated. " Jeez, you've always been so protective over the other normies."
He releases Hugo like he's a discarded piece of garbage, letting the demon land near his feet in a weak pile. You're quick to let go of the Sin's wrist as you slip past Mammon to drop yourself down onto your knees in front of your date, roving your vision over him helplessly as he heaves and sucks in ragged, labored breaths. Pure guilt and hatred wracks through your body at the sight of him and all the while your mind harshly chants that this is your fault. That you did this to him.
"I'm sorry, " you whisper fervently. " I'm so sorry."
He can't respond to you around the strained gasps shaking through his lungs, but you feel him flinch when you place a comforting touch against one of his shoulders. The reaction, no matter how warranted, makes you jerk away from him. It hurt. It dug that remorse in deeper like a hot poker and you were desperate to direct it something. It has you spinning on your heels, rising up to round on Mammon. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" You snarl, anger burning at your fingertips and searing in your chest. The combination of surprise and annoyance on his face just pisses you off even more, making your wings flair out. You catch the way that his eyes glance around the room, surveying the reactions of the customers and servers who have long since taken out their phones to spread the gossip. There's no doubt that this is going to be all over online headlines and trending on platforms like Sinstagram and VoxTok for the next couple of days, and you know that the way that you're publicly insulting him is a setting you on a fast track to his shit list. But you don't care. Not right now. You want him to get mad. You want him to become just as upset and irritated and wounded as you are.
"You're a psychopath! " You rant. " Arrogant, insensitive, selfish -"
" Uh, yeah, babes, " he interrupts, flourishing his arms across his body in a presenting flourish. " King of Greed."
"I'm so tired of hearing that excuse." You scoff around the frustrated laugh bubbling up in your chest, clenching and unclenching your hands to try and relieve some of the tension in them.
"Let's chill out, eh? You're causing a bit of a scene," Mammon grouses.
That genuinely stalls you. Why, you aren't sure, you should be used to this sort of behavior by now, but you're already too worked up to just ignore that comment. "I'm causing a scene?" You point your fingers into your chest, staring up at him with a pure molten resentment. "You're the one who crashed my night and assaulted my date. If anyone here's the problem, it's you!"
A part of you waits for him to lash out, fully expecting to see those sharp, neon flashes of electricity start to fizzle and shoot out around him in a warning, but it never comes. Instead, he's rocking back on his feet, and the irritated scowl on his face shifts, molding into something soft and deceptively charming. "Baaabe, " he draws out an almost singsong whine. "Let's not do this anymore. Aren't you tired of all this fighting?"
His mouth sets into something like a pout, and that coupled with the gentle, saccharine lit to his voice has you hesitating to berate him even more. It's such an obvious ploy to manipulate you - it has to be - but even worse is that it's working. You can feel that annoying, sugared sense of affection rising up and stupefying you. He uses your stalled response to his advantage, taking your hips and cupping your face with both pairs of his hands to tug you a little bit closer into his space until you can feel the thrum of his magnetic aura dipping across your body. His thumbs sweep over the edges of your cheeks, and some treacherous part of yourself longs to lean into his cool touch. "I miss us. I miss you, " he confesses like the moment between you both is private, and for a minute you completely forget that you're in a crowded room, airing out your relationship drama for all to see. "Don't you miss me? Even just a little?"
He almost sounds vulnerable when he asks it. The other sets of his eyes have long since vanished from sight, but the sheer amount of emotion gleaming from the main pair makes your heart ache. And even with all of your common sense raging inside of you and telling you to pull away from him, to slip out of his hold before you get caught too deep to pull out, you don't know if you can. Not when you can finally feel him again after so much time apart. And even with the smooth, press of his leather gloves keeping you from being able to feel his skin directly, the cool sensation of them is too good to let go of. "Yes," you admit, almost a little brokenly. There's the hurt of self-disappointment that runs through you when you say it, but the relief and exhilaration that rises up greatly overshadows it, frothing up and drowning it like the crash of a tsunami against the surf.
"See?" He coos tenderly. "See how much better it is when we don't fight?"
It's the sound of a rough intake of breath that finally rips you out of your moment of weakness and your eyes flit over to the origin of the noise out from your peripherals. It's when your focus lands on Hugo that reality comes hurtling down on you. He's pulling himself up onto his feet, still clearly a little disoriented but thankfully coherent. It has you tearing out of Mammon's hold before you can register it, approaching the Imp with a concerned furrow pinching your eyebrows close. "Are you okay?" You ask, a bit of a stupid question you admit, but you aren't sure what you could possibly say to make this situation any better.
The stare that Hugo pins you with is a little wild and you can see noticeable traces of fear and rage, and he tries to smooth out the wrinkles that have marred his suit, combing his fingers through his unkempt hair in an attempt to try and right himself. "Why would I be fucking okay?"
It's a justifiable reaction, you suppose, but it doesn't make it any less painful take the brunt of that searing glare. You recoil away from it, thumping back into something solid and soft, and the scent of money carries over you; the hint of that leather musk that transfers onto the bills from being stuffed into purses and wallets; the slightly metallic notes of coins and the till from cash registers. That familiarity of it has you unconsciously sinking into the presence pressed up against your body for comfort.
"You're still here, are ya?" Mammon's voice rumbles out, and you can feel the vibrations of it thrumming across your back, but it's hard to even hear what he's saying while you're bombarded by the searing pressure of everyone else's enthralled eyes pinned onto you; the bewildered, hurt stare that Hugo fixes you with as he steadies himself on his weakened legs. It has you feeling naked and bare. Stripped down to display all of your imperfections for all of the world to see, exposing you for judgement. But it's the cold, stinging weight of remorse that wounds you the most; driven in deep by that unforgiving voice in the back of your mind that keeps telling you that the entire trajectory of this night is your fault. That Hugo was humiliated and harmed because of you.
You should have just stayed home. You should have just -
"Let's say you and me ditch this shithole," Mammon purrs: the soothing chill of his hand's seeps through your skin, gripping around your shoulders and waist, threatening to make you go lax against him. "Let's go back home. We can make up for all our lost time."
The scattered whispering around you nearly makes you miss the Sin's words. You can hear all of them, softly giggling amongst themselves and gasping in shock. But it's Hugo's shaken glare and all of the confusion and hatred that peeks through it that catches you. And there's some deep, knee jerk drive that tells you to go and try to comfort him. To try an apologize for the entire derailment of the date and explain yourself, but instead you're leaning back into Mammon's presence, savoring the musky scent of him and the distant magnetic thrum that constantly pulses across his body.
You know whatever comes out of your mouth next is going to choose your fate. It'll completely seal the deal, so to speak, for the remainder of your life. And as dangerous as that thought is, as perilous as that truth may be, you can't find it in yourself to be scared. You find yourself leaning into it - into him - and fully accepting the troubles that may come from it. If you're going to be truly honest with yourself, these past few weeks have been complete torture because as much as you loathe to admit it, you've been lying to yourself. Pretending that you want to move and forget him, when in all honestly, that's the furthest thing from your true desires. You want him. You think that you always will, and some awful part of you basks in it. Seeks it out even. And that shameless bit of you helps you in shedding off the shame that comes with the looks from all of the patrons. Suddenly you don't mind all of the judgmental and fascinated ogling. When he's at your side, none of them matter.
"Sure," you agree, and all of that remaining doubt fizzles out into a dull, muted nudge in the back of your mind. "Let's go home."
You can feel the pleased hum that he releases more than you hear it. A rumble that's close to a purr and he hugs you tighter against his body with all of his limbs like he's afraid that you might vanish if he doesn't. He scoops his lower arms underneath your legs, effectively clutching you to his chest and your arms grip around his neck instinctively. The look that he gives Hugo is outright gloating, with that wide, jagged grin stretched out across his face and you have to roll your eyes at the pompous display.
"Hey, don't forget to pay the check before ya leave, mate," Mammon teases. " And make sure to leave a good tip. Wouldn't want to be a dickhead."
You can feel the electrical pulse around him begin to build. It gives you barely any time to scoop up the strap of your purse with your tail, lifting it from its place hanging on the chair before that little royalty free children's cheer breaks out with that loud cha-ching! and the room distorts and mutates into a twisting billow of green. Hugo's face is the last thing that you see as you vanish within Mammon's grip, still wearing that startled and insulted expression that twists up his features and the look in his eye's stings. It remains with you as the world shifts into something dark and distorted with shades of a deep jade and flashing neon; and everything twists and spins out until everything loses its sense of tangibility and becomes a weightless amalgamation of electricity and smoke. And for one elongated split second it feels as though you don't even have a physical body. Instead, you're just a thing conceptualized through thoughts and emotions and wills that serves as some kind of conduit for those scattered electrical currents to run rampant through you while they take you apart piece by piece and shrink you down into something small and fleeting until you're being is forcefully expanded and overblown. And then finally there's sensation in your toes and fingertips and the point of your tail. You can breathe again, and the cool press of Mammon's body and arms can be felt around you.
You gasp, remembering to force yourself to inhale in an attempt to ward off that delicate weight of dizziness that fizzles around your skull, and with a few steady breaths the faint lull over your head fades away until you can finally focus and get a sense of your surroundings.
At least you didn't vomit like the first time.
It's a quick glance through the large observational window that helps to orient you, giving you a sweeping view of the dreary city down below and the glittering cast of the cerulean and lime green neon lights and signs that decorate some of the buildings. You're just glad that he teleported you both inside. The air in the Greed Ring - if it could even be categorized as air - can often times be putrid, if not outright lethal depending on what section of his domain you're in. Even though this particular penthouse happens to be in one of the more put together cities, far from the smokestacks overwhelming contaminated plumes, the factories and toxic landfills, the wind is able to carry the pollution over on its currents, and it's been known to be quite dangerous. Noxious and putrid enough to be detrimental.
Seriously, you've seen it choke out a family of four.
Reality hits you with all of the grace of a speeding truck, that you're actually here in Mammon's house, and you're left to try and brace for the oncoming torrent of regret and self-hatred that's going to absolutely piledrive you, but it never comes. There's no crushing weight of disappointment or exasperation. Instead, you're greeted with a delicate but fizzling sort of peace. It's like some kind of grip has been lifted from your shoulders and lungs and you're finally able to breathe again after being held underwater and suffocated. It floods through you like a soothing type of warmth, like the sunlight peeking out from the dense shield of cloud cover after days of darkness. It's pleasant and balmy despite the fact that the arms and hands holding you are somewhat tepid; a little cool, and you lean into it.
It surprises you when that gentle feeling of relief starts to shift, and you can taste something sharp and hungry crack across the atmosphere, a little sour. Jealousy, you instinctively recognize. And it's quickly chased by a heavy, pulsing thrum that's heady and a little smoky, and your body's response is immediate, knee-jerk and intrinsic, and every part of you seems to flood with heat and buzz like you've been struck with a livewire. As rare as this particular brand of desire is, it's one that you're intimately accustomed to, and it has Mammon's magnetic signature all over it. All-consuming and wanting and possessive.
He's never particularly been a lustful being, and all honesty, the number of times that you've had sex with the King of Greed has been far in between. In the beginning it was something that you had almost taken personally. You had nearly assumed that maybe there was something wrong with you, that perhaps he just wasn't attracted to you has an individual. But luckily, you had been quick to realize that he just didn't have much of a sex drive all together. It didn't stem from a place of disgust or even necessarily a full-on lack of interest, it was just the urge would rarely ever arise for him. It just wasn't an instinct that he had, or at the very least, it was one that would make an appearance very fleetingly. But it worked for the both of you surprisingly. Usually, after a shift at Ozzie's you were gorged on as much lust and energy as you could possibly take. Too much of a good thing could leave you feeling nauseous and uncomfortable in your own flesh, like your skin has been cinched too tight. It made being around him a breath of fresh air.
But that didn't mean that he absolutely never had a libido. But usually whenever his desire would emerge, it seemed to have a deep-rooted connection to jealousy and some inherent need to prove that you were his.
One of the first times you had sex was during one of his Annual Clown Pageant's and some random demon had shouted up at you from your place above where you were curled up against Mammon's side, stupidly asking for you to lift up your shirt and show him your tits. And the violent crackle of electricity was about the only warning he got before he was roped by a sudden cast of glowing webbing and then promptly tossed across the long expanse of the stadium. Your pretty sure that several of his bones had been shattered.
But as annoying as the stranger was, maybe you should give that guy some props. Even though he had landed himself a trip to the ER you had spent the remainder of your night getting your back blown out by the King of Greed.
You have tried to tell Mammon that he doesn't have to have sex with you to convince you that you're his. That he doesn't have to buy your love and loyalty with sexual gratification. Despite the nature of your being, you don't have to have sex to feel loved or cherished. He satisfies the need you have for touch well, with his constant desire in having you stuck to his side or in his arms in some kind of fashion. You already know that you're fully his. You want to be, and you accepted him and all of his affections and at times lack thereof completely, but he'd always been insistent on touching you after someone has shamelessly flirted with you. Almost like he had to remind himself that you were still there. He wouldn't stop until every inch of you was doused in his scent and it was unmistakable you were his.
Considering how long the two of you have been a part recently, how nasty the breakup had been and the sheer magnitude of the lust and jealousy prickling across the atmosphere and seeping into your skin and saturating your bones, you had a good impression of how the rest of this night is going to play out. It has anticipation running rampant in your veins. You tear your eyes away from the dark city outside of the window to face him, and the weight of his gaze nearly knocks you breathless. His eyes are glowing bright within the dim lighting of the room, burning a deadly shade of chartreuse. It makes you feel pinned in place, like you're being tracked by something dangerous. A weak animal dangling within the jagged, lethal maw of a starved creature.
The energy that's descended over you dances over your skin, magnetic and searching and so vibrant that for a moment it almost feels as though it could transform into a living, breathing thing and consume you both until there's nothing but scraps left behind. You're toeing the line of something vicious, a little wild, and a part of you wonders if you'll even come out of this in one piece. You might just get torn apart.
But you've never been one for self-preservation.
You aren't completely sure who moves first. But suddenly his lips are on yours, tasting floral and a little spicy from the wine that he had stolen from Hugo earlier, and it feels like you've been zapped from the fervent exchange. Your body momentarily goes a little lax, making your tail drop your purse on the floor with a careless flop in favor of winding around one of his lower forearms. It's already a little sloppy and uncoordinated, fueled by desperation and want. Then again, Mammon always has been a little messy whenever he kisses, all tongue and teeth. It might have disgusted some, his outright lack of tact and finesse, but you've always found it endearing and honestly hot. It's depraved, completely filthy, and it doesn't stop you from moaning when he licks into your mouth to taste you.
Every part of your body seems to burn like you've been dipped into melted wax. A shiver skips down the notches of your spine, quivering from the sensation of his lust clouding over you and curling up in your lungs, packing your head full of stuffing. His desire just serves to fuel your own, pilling it up on top of each other until it already has you near mindless. It's straight up embarrassing how easily he's able to affect you. To practically turn you into a pile of mush with a couple of looks and some kissing, but you can hardly find it in yourself to be ashamed.
Both of your hands are everywhere, slipping across each other's bodies, groping and clawing. You can feel the hint of his talons pressing against the cover of his gloves, dragging over your skin like he means to leave marks. The simple thought of him scratching across you with dark, stinging streaks remaining in the wake of his sharp nails has you shifting yourself to wrap your legs around the thick of his abdomen so that you can shamelessly grind against his stomach like some kind of slut, impulsively seeking out your own pleasure.
You can feel the vibrations of his low, mocking laugh tremble underneath you, spurring a liquid heat to build between your thighs. But the whine that leaves you is a little broken and ragged when he cruelly removes his mouth from yours to leer down at you. It makes you painfully conscious of the spit that's been smeared across your lips and the breathless way that you're already panting.
"Look at you, grindin' up on me like a bitch in heat," he croons meanly, but it doesn't offend you, and he knows that. It's a little fact about you that he utilizes constantly for his own benefit. Your desire to take the brunt of his insults until your defenses are stripped bare and you're left to his wills and wants. You can practically feel the satisfaction rolling off of him in waves, thick and rousing and it just has you needing more.
"Mammon," you whine brazenly, intentionally coquette.
You can tell by the look in his eyes; glowing and craving, that it just fuels his ego, single handedly feeding into his hubris. Not that it needs to get any bigger. Regardless of that simple fact, you can't help yourself in indulging him majority of the time; watching him preen underneath your subtle praise and blatant desire; even when he doesn't realize it. Even then, it takes you by surprise when your spun around and tossed into the air as easily as a pillow. You land onto something equally firm and bouncy with a small gasp. The thick, individual threads that stick to your skin in a sultry, adherent grip, have your limbs stuck, keeping you secured to whatever surface he's stuck you to.
His web.
A cursory glimpse has you confirming just as much; taking in the sight of the bright neon glow of the silken twine that keeps your limbs fastened to its grip. The lack of mobility doesn't unnerve you in the slightest, instead, it has something excited smoldering inside the base of your abdomen. And the lust and ardor pouring from him, combined with the magnetic aura that constantly pulses over him does amplifies your fervor to an embarrassing degree.
The grin on his face is sharp and smug, showing off the lethal rows of his teeth. He lowers himself onto the web slowly, his movement are all purposeful; calculated and unrushed. Intentionally dragging out his climb above you, no doubt reveling in the way that your body writhes to try and get near his own.
"You're so fucking desperate," he taunts and there's the hint of a laugh tainting his words. "Could have fooled me, with the way that you were practically eye fucking that cheap bitch."
Your face crumples up into a light sneer, and there's a retort on the tip of your tongue. That low voice in the back of your mind is telling you to keep quiet, or else he'll drag this out more than he already is, but your sense of pride rises up to the forefront. "Well, I wouldn't have been off with another man if you hadn't acted like such a dick."
His eyes narrow, and it could have been a trick of light, but you swear that they glow brighter underneath the shadows saturating the room. That electrical aura around him spikes, becoming palpable underneath his flaring irritation, trickling over your skin like an electrical current that makes you gasp. But he masks his indignation with a smirk that looks all too pleased, like you had blindly bumbled into a trap.
"I really don't think that you're in position for back talk," he chides, tilting his head condescendingly as he continues his climb over you, spreading your thighs wide to fit himself between your legs with the musical chime of bells. He's settled himself over the expanse of your body, placing his topmost pair of hands on either side of your shoulders to prop himself up. Just another soft spot that he likes to take full advantage of. He knows the way that your differences in size affects you, that way that bulk of his body practically engulfs yours. It already has a thrill shooting down the nape of your neck, and your nipples harden underneath the cool silk fabric of your dress while your back involuntarily arches, seeking out the feel of him. You can't even stop yourself from attempting to grind your hips against the swell of his lower abdomen in some carnal search for friction. "It's making me feel like ya don't even want me here anymore," he says, feigning to sulk.
You try to swallow the whine that bubbles up from your throat when he straightens himself, pulling away from you, but it escapes regardless, a little breathless and strained. He definitely heard, if the satisfaction that gleams in his eyes is any indication. He puts a studious expression on his face, eyebrows pinched close while he raises a hand to his chin like he's thinking. "Ya know, I'm pretty sure you left one of those little toys of yours after we split. "
Oh, no.
That gives you some pause, makes your body cease the desperate roll of your hips to focus on him. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up, but once it does it's able to latch onto the fact that you did indeed leave one of your sex toys here at the apartment. One of your favorite ones in fact. A rabbit vibrator that you had bought a few years ago. You had been completely pissed when you realized that you had left it behind after you cleared what you had in his closet and bathroom, and returned back to your apartment to unpack. You had been upset about having forgotten it for the entirety of a week, but you were too prideful to text or call him about it. There was no way that would have broken your silence towards Mammon over a vibrator of all things. And it honestly throws you for a loop to know that he even kept it.
But even worse than all of that is the smile that's stretching at the corners of his mouth. The sight of it alone has the alarm bells in your mind going off. "Considering that you don't want me anymore, I could just go get it for you. Put it in that needy little cunt of yours and let it take care of you all night."
It wasn't an idle threat either. He'd absolutely deliver on it. It's something that he's done to you before, cruelly leaving you bound to his webbing with a toy placed on the highest setting to draw out orgasm after orgasm from your body until you were a boneless, drooling, thoughtless mess. The memory does admittedly have a thrum of heat pooling down between the apex of your legs, but the idea of not being able to touch him after so much time apart sounds like absolute torture.
You find yourself shaking your head, chanting a series of 'no's' under your breath. He hasn't even done anything to you yet, and you've already been reduced to a pathetic pile of mush, already a little drunk from the influence of his lust and magnetic thrum.
"Are you sure?" He presses, absolutely toying with you. His lower hands settle on your legs that have hooked around his waist to sweep up until they're rucking up the skirt of your dress and slipping underneath the fabric to pluck at the straps of your panties with the sharp edges of his gloved fingertips. The feel of his chilled touch on your heated skin leaves a buzzing trail in their path and you press your body further into their hold, savoring the pressure of them.
"Please," you beg unabashed in your shameless behavior, but you've long since abandoned your pride if it'll just get him to actually do something.
"Hmm," he hums lowly, squinting at you questioningly, making your anticipation rise only to snuff it out. "I don't know . . . I'm still not convinced."
You try not to let your exasperation show. You don't want to give him the satisfaction to know that he's truly getting under your skin, though you're sure that you're failing fantastically. You could still smell his jealousy in the air, sharp and bitter on your tongue, and it gives you a pretty keen idea on how to approach this. It's obvious that he wants you to feed into his ego a bit more, wants to see you plead for him and earn his attention back to gorge those possessive urges that he has. You could definitely do that.
"Come on, Mammon, please touch me," you whine, and your eyelids flutter when one of the golden bells hanging from the decorative layers of his costume catches on your clit from over your underwear, rolling over it in a way that makes your mouth drop open. "It's not the same if it isn't you. It needs to be you. Just you. I want you to use me, I need you to fuck me, please, plea- "
"Yeah? You ready to make it up to me?" He asks, gripping onto your chin when you nod eagerly in response. He chuckles lowly, eyes burning in that intense shade of green while his grin stretches wide. You hardly register it when the grip he has on your hips tightens, and a quick blur has your positions switching when the silk strands of his webbing release from your skin and suddenly you're the one looking down at him, perched on his abdomen. He's practically lounged himself over his web with the top pair of his arms curled behind his head, reclining himself against the tapestry printed pillows and satin cushions. It catches you by complete surprise when he reaches with his other set of hands and manages to rip your dress and undergarments from your body with the harsh tear of fabric.
"Well, then - " he starts, landing a cracking smack across the swell of your ass, ripping a delighted gasp from you at the sensation of the sting - "best get started. My dick ain't gonna suck itself."
He really is so charming.
You suppress the urge to roll your eyes at him, propping yourself up on your palms to slink yourself down from your place on his stomach and in between his legs. You meet his gaze with your own when your pull back the pointed, embroidered fabric of his motley to reveal the bulge of his cock straining against his pants. You haven't even taken him out from his breeches yet, but it never fails to surprise you how massive he is. It always takes you off guard, though it does nothing to dull the white-hot desire scorching at your body, threatening to eat you from the inside out; it only fuels it.
He catches the lust and want in your stare judging by haughty glint saturating his expression, lips pulled back in that jagged grin.
You really want to wipe that look off his face.
You can't fight off the urge to lean forward, dropping your mouth open to glide your tongue over the fabric that's pulled taut over the heavy thickness of him. Trying to suck his dick through his costume like a degenerate. You moan aloud when you catch the head of his cock underneath your tongue, but you can't help but be a little disappointed when you're unable to taste him through the barrier of his pants. Though that little bit of discontent is quickly snuffed out by the subtle way that his thighs twitch on either side of your head. It has you pulling your mouth from him to take it in his expression. He's unfortunately managed to keep it unfazed for the most part, still sporting that smug smile, but you know him enough to notice the mild furrow pinched between his eyebrows that let you know he's affected.
It gives you the motivation to reach up and unfasten the concealed buttons keeping his pants secured. You try to hide the anticipation in your movements, doing your best to stay articulate and nimble with your fingers as you pop the buttons free from their openings in the garment. Even with the confidence and desire rushing through your veins like molten sugar you have a difficult time keeping your features fixed into something unwavering when his cock springs free from his pants. He's big to say the least, almost ridiculously so. Sure, you've taken him before, but the memories never really do him justice.
For a moment you're just left to stare dumbly. Admire, really. Roving your eyes over the length of him, appreciatively glancing at the ridges that flare and line down his shaft; shortening and tapering off the closer they get to the bulbous head. You've had a fair number of flings and lovers in the past, but he easily has to be one of the biggest you've ever taken. The first time that the two of you had sex you had almost been a little intimidated by the size of him. But with time, that intimidation quickly melted into a type of awe and desire. You can feel your body react, muscles drawing up tight and heat throbs between the apex of your thighs.
"C'mon now, you were so fucking desperate for it earlier, " he coos, reaching down to grip himself, dragging the head of cock against the shape of your bottom lip, smearing his cum over your pout like a chilled gloss. You open your mouth to taste him, salty and musky across your pallet and you continue to lower yourself down him until you can feel him brush against the back of your throat. You can't help but hum, content from the weight of him on your tongue, the vibrations of your voice reward you with sharp hiss from his lungs. He's cool to the touch, but not unpleasantly so, and the chilled temperature of his skin is almost soothing, like a sort of balm spreading across your tongue.
He's big enough that you can already feel the strain in the hinges of your jaw, and you try to mindful of your teeth, careful not to accidentally scrape him. There's absolutely no way that you'll be able to take all of him this way - you know from experience. It has you placing the rest of him that you can't fit in your mouth into both of your hands, using the saliva that's spread across his girth to aid the firm glide of your palms, moving them in tandem with your mouth to build a steady rhythm. It's already sloppy. Spit drips past your lips, coating his cock in a way that depraved, if not a little gross. Not that he's ever minded. Mammon always seems to prefer his head a little messy, and you've always been one to indulge him.
You make sure to drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, stroking the point of it over one of the soft, sensitive ridges throbbing along its length when you drag your lips up to suck at the head, swallowing the precum that trickles from the slit in a generous pour.
Tears have already begun to prickle at the corners of your lash line, blurring your vision just a bit. It's a little upsetting that it's made it difficult to see the expression on his face, the furrow of his eyebrows but the way that his mouth has dropped open for him to release a bout of ragged expletives is more than enough to dull the sting.
It has you doubling your efforts, desperate to hear more of those breathless swears. You drop your mouth down on him until you can feel him in your throat, and the wet heat of it has him gripping the back of your head with a strained grip, claws threatening to burst through the leather of his gloves and scratch, guiding you to swallow a little bit more of him.
You aren't even the one getting head right now, but you're just as worked up. Your entire body feels like it's being overloaded with something electrical and blazing. Your cunt is soaked, cum smeared down your thighs in a way that you couldn't bother being ashamed of. You're drunk on the scent of sex and the pulsing sensation of lust that's seemed to replace all of the air in the room, making it difficult to see past your desire and your need to taste him. You moan around his length, twisting your fists around him fervently as you suck at him with the goal to make him spill down your throat.
"You're such a slut, ain't ya," but it's more of a statement rather than a question. "Trying to fuck yourself up against nothing like some kind of whore."
For a moment your brain scrambles along dumbly, trying to make sense of his words when you finally realize that your hips have been rolling up against the air in some mindless instinct, and your thighs are tightly pressed together in an effort to find even the smallest bit of friction. It makes shame prickle across your tear-soaked cheeks and you're quick to halt the movement of your waist while you try to refocus on the task at hand, stroking your tongue over his throbbing girth.
"Aw, none of that now," he chides, a little patronizing. Suddenly one of his legs is prying between your own, forcing a frayed mewl from the depths of your chest when he presses it against your slick cunt. It has your hips jerking over him, mindlessly undulating them to seek out that delicious rise of ecstasy. The laugh that bubbles up from him is demeaning. It should probably humiliate you. Make you upset. Or at the very least motivate you to grab onto the remaining tatters of your pride and try to gain some sense of control. To make some half-assed quip or insult at him to at least to assume the illusion of authority. But you like it. You like being at his whims. It makes you feel like you're his. "Damn, you're such a greedy fucking thing. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to come for my spot."
You can only manage to moan around his girth, trying to focus around the thick syrupy warmth that's begun to drizzle inside your skull, making your thoughts drown and sink somewhere a little fuzzy and distant. You can feel that familiar surge of heat and euphoria rising up and swelling at a rate that should be embarrassing. All you can focus on in the pressure of two of his hands holding onto the back of your head and one of your horns, using the leverage to work your mouth up and down his cock, using the wet heat to build up his own pleasure until you're practically some glorified sex toy. The very idea of it has your eyes rolling back in your skull and your hips jolt against the curve of his knee, rolling it against the slick swollen bundle of your clit. You keen at the contact, nearly gagging on the rhythmic press of his cock hitting the back of your throat.
You can feel him pulse in your mouth, and his hips twitch with each thrust, losing the control of the even, pronounced pace that he had before until it's all but choppy and selfish. It has you doubling down on your efforts, rolling your tongue over him, swallowing even more of him down despite the how it makes even more tears trickle down your face; squeezing and twisting both of your fists around his length in a frenzied need to taste him. You want him to spill down your throat. You're immediately rewarded by his sweet, guttural groans, basking in the way that they ring out all ragged and low across the room.
He's close. So, so close, and you are too. You feel your shared ardor and lust prickling up around you; in your fingertips and toes, burning white-hot and heavy in the cradle of your hips. Your body coils up tight, waiting to have it crest over you and sweep you under its unforgiving pull.
And then his body is pulling up taut, back bowing until he's nearly curling over you. It takes you a bit by surprise when the grasp that he has on your head tightens in a grip that toes the line of near painful, and he jerks your mouth down onto his cock until it's snug in the back of your throat. He spills inside of you with a gutted groan of your name and a menagerie of frayed swears. "Fucking take it you fucking - shit - filthy bitch - fuck." You do your best to swallow him down, drinking down the cool burst of his cum eagerly. It's difficult with the abundance of it, and the sheer amount of it still shocks you little. But you do your best not to waste a single drop, slipping him from out of your mouth to lick up what's leaked down his length.
You look up at him through your lashes, damp and clumped together, to admire the lazy smirk on his face. His eyes have gone heavy and a little lidded from the aftershocks and satisfaction weighing down his body. You lean into his touch when he cradles the side of your face, wiping the tears from your eye as he guides your lips away from his cock, still hard and throbbing to place all of your attention on him. He doesn't even have to ask for you to obediently open your mouth, dropping your jaw open and sticking out your tongue to show him that you've made sure to swallow all of his cum.
"Look at that," he marvels, bells chiming. "You just might still be my good girl after all."
You whine at that little shred of praise, rocking your cunt against his leg with even more fervor. The texture of the fabric dragging over your clit has your eyes nearly going cross, and you can't even find it in yourself to mad at the mocking way that he chuckles at your desperation. Probably delighting in the breathless moans and mewls that are pouring out of your in an unabashed surge.
"Yeah? You want to make me happy?" He coos, all patronizing and falsely sweet. It should tip you off, and to a degree it does reach that coherent, long buried part of you. But you're already too cock drunk and caught up in all of the lust in the air to focus clearly. "Then quit fucking my leg and sit up."
The sound that leaves you is mournful and little agonized. The very idea of that sounds like complete torture. You're so close to that precipice of ecstasy that you could taste it as much as you could feel it. Winding up your body tight and promising to drag you underneath a torrent of pleasure, all smoked honey, electrical and dulcet.
"Mammon," you gasp with a plead saturating your tone.
His face shifts into a fake pout, eyebrows furrowed like you've wounded him, and as obviously fake as the expression is, you can't help but be disturbed by the mere notion that you might have disappointed him. He places a hand to his chest dramatically. "But I thought you wanted to be my good girl again? And here I thought we'd made some progress."
"I do," you insist vehemently. "I am, I swear I am." And regardless of the pathetic nature of your tone, it's also firm in your conviction. You grip onto some of the thick threads of the webbing beneath you and you think you could honestly snap them if you grabbed them any tighter, sucking in your breath while you reluctantly will your hips to stop. You could honestly sob when you feel the heat in your cunt die out into a hungry, unsatisfied throb, but the need for Mammon's approval triumphs that want. He hums appreciatively when you get yourself to shift from off his leg and move yourself into a sitting position between his legs. You struggle not to clench your thighs together to rekindle that delicious high again. He must be able to see the near pained look in your eyes because the satisfaction rolling off of him is thick and heavy.
He cradles your chin in between his fingers, directing you to look up at him and center your attention onto him, leaning towards you with the rustle of fabric and the jingle of bells. But it's difficult not to track his movement when he sweeps one of his hands down to his cock, using the slick of your saliva and more of the precum that's begun to trickle from his head to aid him in jerking himself off. But you force your gaze to remain glued to his even with the nasty, languid shlick sound of his hand moving over his length begging you to peek.
"Now you're gonna come up here and sit nice and pretty on my cock, " he orders. You can't even hide the excitement that runs over you, flaring deep inside of your abdomen and no doubt lighting up your eyes. But you should have known that there'd be a catch. That it would never be so straight forward with someone like Mammon. "And you're going to stay still and quiet. I've got a very important call to make - ya know, business and all. I won't bore you with the details, but if you try and get yourself off - if I pick up so much a twitch from those hips of yours or single whimper from those pretty lips and you can go ahead and forget cumming tonight."
All the hope that you had previously felt seems to leave your body like a deflated balloon. Despite your need to please him you can't keep your frustration from bleeding into your features and you can feel what must be the hint of a scowl twisting on your lips. But of course, Mammon being Mammon looks nothing short of entertained by the response. "Aw, don't be like that," he soothes with sarcasm coating his words while he pinches your cheeks between his fingertips. "It'll just take a second.
Liar. An absolute liar. He's going to drag this out for as long as he possibly can, and always a masochist, you feel excitement unfurling in your gut at the prospect of it.
"Understand?" He asks, with a wide, expectant grin.
"I understand," you agree without a shred of hesitation.
"Get up here then," he says, sitting himself up from his place lounged against the pillows. But then he's impatiently grabbing onto your waist before you even have time to move, flipping you around to press your back against his plush stomach, sitting you astride him with your legs on either side of his body. You can feel the head of his cock brush against your sensitive clit, making you twitch, a little tender from your ruined orgasm, but you swear that the light touch could have made you cum had it just been a little bit heavier. You have to draw in a deep breath, pulling your focus onto the chill of his body temperature seeping out onto your back as some kind of center. Serving as a kind of buoy to guide you through the deluge of thoughts, and sensations of both of your lust and that electrical aura that constantly pulses around him. It helps you to reach down and take ahold of his cock, lining it up until it's pressed against the slick entrance of your cunt, and you savor the pleased throaty rumble that it drags from him.
He doesn't release the grasp that he has on your waist, even has you begin to lower yourself onto him. Your jaw drops when you start to sink down on his length, and your walls flutter as they stretch to accommodate the swollen head of his cock. It's something you've done plenty, but no matter how many times you do it, it never fails to make it feels as though the air has been snatched from your lungs. You gasp raggedly, grabbing onto one his free hands, lacing your fingers together with a squeeze as you continue to sink yourself down. The stretch comes with a slight burn. Lighting up a deep ache in between your hips but it's one that feels so good. It never fails to make your brain go blank. You just hardly manage to hear Mammon saying something to you. But it seems too far away and vague to make out with the delicious fog taking over your brain even though you are able to recognize the tone that he's using as encouraging and uncharacteristically soft.
You hardly have time to register one of his fingers winding over your clit with tight, practiced movements that have liquid fire shooting up your spine. It makes your hips roll involuntarily and the head of his cock fully slips inside of your cunt with a filthy wet sound. You're finally able to make out some of his words now that the thickest part of him has finally worked past the tight ring of your entrance. "Remember when you couldn't even take me?" He asks, almost conversationally, like he isn't still teasing your clit and practically splitting you open with his cock. "But you were so eager to try. Now look at you, with your cunt taking it like a fuckin' pro."
You drag in another quivering breath, continuing to sink down on him and for a moment you brain distantly worries, despite all logic that he isn't going to end. For a second it seems like he isn't. The brush of the ridges lining down his girth is an exquisite kind of torture, sliding against your walls in a way that has you whimpering and keening aloud. You feel so full already but whenever you think you're nearly done; glancing down to check, there always seems to be a few more inches left. It isn't until you finally feel the solid press of his thighs underneath your ass, physically keeping you from going any lower, that lets you know that you've managed to take all of him. You peer down, almost like some subconscious part of you needs to verify that you've actually fit the entirety of his length inside and when you do the sight of the subtle impression of his cock in your stomach nearly makes you keel over. It's something that you've seen before with Mammon, but it never fails to shoot pure euphoria into your veins, and the glides around your clit from his fingertips does little help you already frayed sense of self.
You gasp unsteadily, panting like you've run a marathon and you let yourself sag against Mammon's abdomen completely, allowing him to keep you upright while you try to keep yourself tethered to reality. But Mammon, the complete bastard that he is moves the hand that had been on your waist and slips it around onto your abdomen until the soothing chill of his palm is pressed against the gentle outline of his cock. It tears a whine out from your throat and your cunt clenches around his girth so violently that for a moment you think you might cum. You tetter on the edge of euphoria for one glorious second before the sensation settles into an unsatisfied throb.
"Look at you," he marvels with pure satisfaction. "Get a little bit of cock in you and you might as well as be fucked dumb."
You definitely wouldn't qualify it as a "little bit." But you aren't going to tell him that. Not that he necessarily needs you to, your reaction to the girth and length of him is obviously more than enough of an indication of the affect he has on you.
"You remember the rules?" He asks. It takes a minute to comprehend his words. His bells ring out delicately, signaling his movement before you even feel the weight of his chin resting on your shoulder while he waits for your response, sweeping his thumb over the bulge in your stomach in teasing motions. But the sensation also serves to ground you and pull your thoughts to the forefront. You turn your head as best as you can, meeting the searing green of his gaze from your peripheral vision with a clipped, sluggish nod.
"Yeah, I remember," you confirm, a little breathlessly. His eyebrows raise expectantly, grin widening with his own anticipation, prompting you to reaffirm the list. "Keep still, keep quiet. . . And I can't cum unless you let me." You add that last bit a little reluctantly. Mournfully. All you can do is wish that he won't drag this out for too long, even though you know you're just setting yourself up for failure. The entirety of Hell would freeze over sooner. Hopefully, he's not in the mood for breaking any records. You really don't feel like being edged for five hours straight . . . not tonight, at least.
"Atta girl," he praises in a sonorous purr.
And then his hands are everywhere. The finger on your clit is joined by another giving you no reprieve, and the palm that you had been gripping with you own slips free from your hold, joining its opposite to sweep up and take both of your nipples into their fingertips, plucking and rolling. It's wonderfully overwhelming and you have to fight off the unthinking urge to writhe and jerk underneath his ministrations. He might actually kill you tonight. Overload you with pleasure until you're burning and set alight with. Maybe by the end of this, there will just be your bones left. But what a way to go.
It has you so distracted, caught underneath a blissful haze, that you hardly notice the phone that he's pulled out from of his costumes concealed pockets. You think nothing of it at first, but even in your glazed over mindset you're still able to vaguely muse how familiar the casing is. The color and pattern on the back of the device looks oddly similar to your own. But that couldn't be right.
His thumb glides across the lock-in screen, tapping in the pin number to login and it shifts into the screensaver. The picture is familiar. Oddly so. It was one that you had taken a few years back of you and Mammon. He was towering over you with his face smooshed against the crown of your head from when you had abruptly tugged him down by one of his arms to fit into the frame. You were beaming in the photograph, riding an adrenaline high from just having gotten off one of the amusement parks more tame roller coasters, lips pulled into a joyful smile while you glanced up at the Sin who was looking a little disgruntled (because you had forced him to take you to Lu Lu World for your date and not his awful, cheap knockoff Loo Loo Land). But even through his displeased, and somewhat surprised expression you could see just the hint of a smile showing. It was one of your favorite pictures, one that came from an even fonder memory. It's your screen saver. That's your phone. A 'business call' he had said. The damned liar.
"Oh-ho, I figured you would have changed this by now," he comments, amused and no doubt pleased. You feel something akin to embarrassment prickle at you. You were planning on changing it. Honestly, you were. You had just never . . . gotten around to it. You were initially also planning on purging your picture app and deleting the entire folder dedicated to him as well. You just hadn't done that yet either. But more important right now, is how he managed to get his hands on your phone in the first place. Or just what he's planning on doing with it.
"Mammon, what are you-"
"Ah, ah, ah," he tuts disapprovingly. "What're the rules?"
Despite your curiosity, you close your mouth without further prompting. But even with his hands steadily building up a steady, consuming fire across your body, kneading and stroking your breasts while he continues to circle your clit with his fingertips, you can't tear your eyes away from the phone. Watching with intrigue and a dull sense of dread as he opens up your messaging app and starts searching through the names with the glide of his thumb. He's humming in your ear, low and concerningly cheery. You aren't sure what he's planning and that's what worries you. He pauses the screen with a small, "oop" and then scrolls back up like something caught his eye. It's when the screen pauses on a certain contact that your stomach sinks.
Hugo - Lottie's coworker
Your stomach sinks at the sight. And for a moment your brain hopes that you're wrong. There's no way he's actually going to that. He won't.
"Let's see what kind of sick shit we've got in here." He clicks the name with a fascinated hum. But even then, you can hear the venomous edge to the sound. You don't let yourself watch when starts to read through the text thread. You can't really put attention on anything else really, other than liquid heat and electricity pouring over you, dissipating the concern and focus that briefly had. But there's nothing to be ashamed of regardless. You had hardly done anything with Hugo that could warrant any jealousy. At least not on your end. Yes, you had been cordial with him and maybe even a little intrigued, but that had hardly been anything that qualifies as outright flirting. Even Hugo, apart from some compliments had been pretty PG in the grand scheme of things.
Your body goes lax against his abdomen when your cunt clenches around his girth, and you try not to twitch from the unanimous, harsh grind and tug from each of his fingers. His body tenses suddenly, coiled up tight like he's physically restraining himself from acting out on something. You're able to pull yourself together enough to glance back down, instinctively searching for the cause behind his apparent distress. Your eyes land on a text, one you vaguely recognize from the beginning, when you had just started talking to Hugo.
Thursday - 7:43 PM
your ex kind sounds like a asshole. seems like he didnt deserve you, you're better off without him
Yep. That'll do it.
You can feel the electrical current around Mammon pick up again, hot and sharp, just toeing the line of nearly becoming painful, but instead it has you gasping out in pleasure. Relishing the sensation of the magnetic aura thrumming across your bare skin, humming over your nipples and the wet heat of your cunt. You can feel it prickling over your clit, and it has your toes curling. Your head lolls back on his shoulder letting you catch sight of your reflection in the large mirror built into the wall across the room. You look absolutely debauched. Your skin was visibly peppered with perspiration; if you paid enough attention, you could see sweat glinting on your body like flecks of glitter, gleaming in in silver and gold underneath cast of the exuberant, vintage style chandelier. Your eyes have a clouded over quality to them, almost like you're intoxicated, and you suppose that you are. But the most lecherous and outright sinful is the way that you can see the impression of him appearing from within your stomach with each gulping, ragged breath you take; and the sight of his hands roaming and stroking over your body, strumming you like an instrument that he's so intimately acquainted with is the image of hedonism. So beautifully wicked, but so, so good.
You easily could have lost yourself to it completely. All of the sensations, the scent of sex and lust in the air. But then it's back. The taste of jealousy, bitter and citrus on your pallet. It's able to rouse you from your sluggish, inebriated state long enough to recognize the muted trill of the ringback tone coming from your phone. But it's difficult to worry over that when the persistent fingers on your clit and plucking at your nipples are steadily tipping you towards that precipice of heat and rapture. Your cunt has started to flutter around his length and your abdomen clenches tight with the build of something heavy and vast rising up over you, ready to consume you from the inside out.
You can hear the muted click of someone on the other side of the call answering - Hugo, your slow-moving brain supplies.
"Oh wow, he hasn't blocked you yet," Mammon muses aloud. "Now keep quiet. Unless you want 'im to hear."
You should make an effort to get Mammon to hang up the phone. You know that you easily could. The Sin is self-serving and obstinate at the best of times - all the time - but this is something that you could get him to stop doing with a single word. You could tell him to figure out a better way to 'get back' at Hugo and cure his jealousy in another way, and he would. But you don't find yourself even trying to get Mammon to end the call. Something about him being this insistent on proving that you're his has electricity licking up your spine.
"Hey! This is the useless cunt that I met at the restaurant, right?" He greets, voice deceptively kind despite his words being just the opposite. There's a long pause on the other side of the line before you pick up a reluctant response, which sounds like it might have been a confused, "eer . . . yes? This Mammon, I take it?"
"The one an' only!" He replies jovially, like he doesn't have you a few good strokes off from cumming while he has a person on the line. But then again, that's his entire play. He wants Hugo to hear. Even so, you try to cling onto the rules he had set, biting into your bottom lip in the effort to keep your mouth shut and the whimpers that want to spill out tightly trapped in your chest. "Listen, I feel like we may have gotten off on the wrong foot earlier, so I just wanted to call and set some things straight to make sure we fully understand each other."
You try to stay privy to their conversation, but it's getting progressively harder to. You have to squeeze your thighs to keep yourself grounded and sat still, but it backfires and only works to tip your closer to ecstasy. You try to pin your attention on anything and everything to keep you grounded. You tear your vision from the mirror instead to look out onto the city, focusing on the thin veil of some kind of smog or cloud that's begun to roll in, the flicker of neon lining the streets, and it appears that a building in the distance has been set aflame; lit up with green fire. That explains the fog - or more accurately, the smoke.
It's no use though. You can still feel the pleasure fizzling over you skin and welling up inside of you. It's getting more and more difficult to hold off. Even while you try and think about a million different things. Taxes, the missionary position, Extermination Day, clowns.
Oh, wait. Scratch that last one.
And then, horribly, a strained moan sneaks out from your throat. For a moment you're too caught up in the haze clouding over your head to even register the sound. And you probably wouldn't have if you didn't catch sight of Mammon's delighted, almost maniacal expression grinning back at you from the mirror in your peripheral vision, all sharp edges and a little feral. He looks all too pleased by your slip up. When he speaks next his voice has taken up that low, resonant tone that melds around his accent. "I just wanted to soothe any concern you may have had for my favorite girl. I can promise you she's in good hands. " And then, like the twisted bastard he is, he's lifting the phone from his ear to hold it closer to you like he's tring to capture all of the filthy sounds coming from your body. "I mean, if you could see the way she's soakin' me - " he whistles high and astonished -" it's a fuckin' sight, I tell ya."
You try to keep your mouth shut so that Hugo doesn't hear and figure out what's going on. But it's difficult to swallow down the noises that Mammon keeps trying to pull from you with his nimble fingers, and then he's gliding his fingertips over your clit in heavy, mean circles that has your back bowing taut, and the seam of his glove catches on the sensitive nerves in a way that has your jaw dropping open. His fingers twists and glide over your nipples to add to the fire, and with just a couple more strokes you're practically blindsided by the molten electricity and bliss that rushes over you in an unforgiving stream. You cum with a loud pornographic cry as you twist and writhe underneath his attention, cunt clenching around his length in a wild spasm while your body tries to wring itself of all of its pleasure. For one moment your mind goes completely blank, leaving you just feel. The world drowns out underneath the onslaught of euphoria that wracks through your entire being, and the only thing that keeps you even remotely present is the cool press of his chest and stomach supporting your back. The chill of him soothes your heated skin, influencing your body to go slack over him.
You have to remind yourself to breathe, drawing in labored gasps while the pleasant haze of endorphins hums through your veins and thrums within your skull like syrup and static.
"Like I said!" Mammon says suddenly, reminding you of your current predicament. There was no mistaking what you and Mammon were doing. Hugo absolutely had to know the King of Greed had just made you orgasm while on a phone call. You feel a little flash of embarrassment, but it's so muted and distant. Buried deep and virtually nonexistent. "She's in good hands. So, if I see you anywhere near her, I'll gut you open like a fucking pig and scatter what's left of you all over Hell."
You hear Hugo's muffled response, a little frantic, skipping over his words but before he can get out the rest of his plea or reassurances, Mammon hands up the call, and carelessly tosses your phone to the side. You don't manage to pick up the sound of a harsh clatter, so you can only hope that the artisan rug saved it from fall damage. You're still too sluggish and dopey to fully register the eager and starved quality that's melded into his lust. But the energy serves to rekindle your own fervor on a kind of subconscious level, even while your body still twitches with subtle aftershocks. He only gives you a small sort of reprieve, slipping his fingertips from your nipples to greedily knead at your breasts. But the touch on your clit doesn't waver it, it only lightens by a few degrees, still swirling and sweeping unforgivingly. You catch his faux pout in the mirror's reflection; pretending to be displeased and disappointed, but you can see the excitement bleeding into his features; lighting up the fiery chartreuse of his stare. "I didn't give you permission to be so noisy," he complains, and his eyebrows pinch close. "It's almost like you wanted him to hear you."
"I was just giving you what you wanted, " you reply, dipping your tone into something soft and alluring. Sure, maybe it was a little stupid prodding at the Sin of Greed, and you know that you're playing right into his little ploy, but you can't stop yourself. If you tend to his ego some, he might be a little lenient on whatever 'punishment' he has in store for you. You reach a hand up to cradle his cheek, guiding his face to tilt down enough to press against the crown of your head. Affection blooms in your chest when you catch the way that he tries to subtly lean into your palm, trying to soak up its warmth. "That was the point, wasn't it? To prove to him that I'm yours?"
You can feel his hips twitching underneath you, and the small shift works his cock in you just a little deeper. You gasp at the sensation, still hypersensitive and tender from your pervious orgasm, but even then, it doesn't fail to send a trickle of desire pooling down your back and in the center of your abdomen. Honestly, you're beyond shocked that Mammon has managed to hold himself off for this long. He's never been the one for self-restraint, and the amount that it must have taken to keep him for thrusting up into you must be monumental. That deserves to be rewarded a little bit, right?
Of course, you can't be too heavy handed with your praise, as much as he loves it when people sing him compliments and applaud his endeavors. It can't lean anywhere that makes him feel as though as he's not the one in control. It has to be delicate and subtle. At least while he's still coherent. Once he's a drooling mess, that's a different story. But you'll get to that.
"Come on, Mammon," you beg, squeezing yourself around his cock while you work your hips against him in faint, gentle swirling motions. His eyelids lower, and you can see his grin waver just a bit, and it might as well as be a visual fracture in his resolve. "I want you to use me. Make me forget him, please."
The grip he has on your breasts fall and take ahold of your hips, and that's the only warning you get before he's picking you up and lifting you up and down on his cock like a toy. It punches the air from your lungs in a way that's almost violent, and it leaves you scrambling, mindlessly clawing and gripping onto his arms in an effort to orient yourself. You can't even hear yourself anymore, but you're sure that you sound absolutely mindless right about now. You can feel every moan and cry that he forces from your lungs with each thrust. It feels like you're being burned alive, raw and merciless, and it has a fresh round of tears prickling at your waterline. You're still too sensitive, but it hurts so good that if he stopped, you're pretty sure that you might actually die.
"Damn - fuckin' hell, you're already squeezing me, and I just started," he laughs with a kind of awe and pride. It shocks you completely, because he's right. You can already feel your cunt fluttering around the delicious drag of his girth, the ridges running along his length and the finger gliding over your clit building up the fiery pleasure, making all of your muscles winding up tight in the preparation of another orgasm. But maybe it really isn't all the surprising with the way that he's passionately fucking you onto his cock, like he's determined to have you both finishing as soon as possible. "You're mine. All mine, " he says, reaching up to grip your throat. Not to restrict your breathing, but enough to feel the pressure of his grip.
"Yes," you agree brokenly, nodding dumbly because that's all you can really manage. "Yours. I'm yours."
You can feel your grip on reality slipping away and fraying with each sharp grind, until your consciousness and sense of self is as good as a pile of mush. You're completely gone, lost with the confines of your own body and the euphoria soaking in bone deep. Your second orgasm sneaks up on you just as easily as the first, leaving you useless and practically immobile, leaving you to just take it. It isn't long until he reaches his climax, only a couple of thrust later and his release is filling you with a cool rush, and a ragged groan.
But he's not stopping. He keeps thrusting into you, unrelenting and hungry like he's been caught in some kind of frenzy, and you're all too eager to take the brunt of it. His hands are everywhere, the sharp points of his claws are lethal enough to peek through the tips of his gloves and leave, exquisite, stinging marks in their wake, marking your skin. You can distantly feel his cum trickling out of you, being forced out with every slide in and out of your cunt. It's so nasty. You can hear the wet slap of your hips meeting each other, the breathless sound of your shared moans and swears. You aren't sure how many more orgasms he pulls from you. The both of you. Mind seems to blur together in one useless spill, and you're hardly able to even count the waves of pleasure that crest over you and rolls down and through your body in frothing, hot waves.
You're coming off of a sort of high when you regain a shred of coherence. Pulled out of the fog when you feel the wet drag of Mammon's tongue sliding up your neck, tasting the salt and lust on your skin. You instinctively tilt your head back, giving him more access to your bared throat. He rumbles, guttural and soft at the display, inspiring a dopey smile to quirk at your lips, and it doesn't fade, not even when the deadly points of his fangs bite down enough to leave superficial bites behind. Neither of you have stopped moving, ceaselessly grinding your hips against each other's, not enough to create space for any decent thrusts, but just enough to create a small spark of stimulation, like you can't bear to stop despite the number of orgasms you've both had.
"Think you've got one more in you?" He asks, lapping at the blood that has welled up from the bite marks, gently nibbling at the junction of your neck; teeth dragging to leave the stinging impression of them behind.
"Hell yes," you answer quickly.
"C'mon then, gorgeous, ride my cock. Show me how much ya missed me."
He lifts you up again, just enough to reposition you, flipping you around without removing you off of his girth to face him. He lets himself fall back against the cushions and pillows in a relaxed lounge, making it easier for you to place your palms just beneath his chest for support as you perch yourself to bear most of your weight onto the balls of your feet and hands. He's already impatiently jolting his hips against yours while you try and find a comfortable position astride him. You can't find it in yourself to get upset by his restlessness, not when you can feel him physically holding himself back from moving too harshly. Something that requires a large sum of control and delicacy considering how much larger he is compared to you. Despite the size difference, his strength never fails to surprise you, how easily he lifts you around like you weigh nothing. Everything about it makes you embarrassingly turned on. Like how far your thighs have to stretch around his hips until there's a burn in the hinges of your joints just so you can place your legs on either side of him.
It's enough to have that irresistible hum of pleasure pouring down and over your body, prompting you to lift yourself up his length, moaning and gasping as the ridges placed along his girth brush along your walls. You pull yourself high with your thighs until he's in at just the tip before you impale yourself on the rest of him, taking him in deep in a single thrust, swiveling your hips in your downstroke. The pace that you set is a little unforgiving on your legs, but it's already worth it with that way that his head rolls back into the sprawling pile of cushions. He's definitely just as tender as you are, but Mammon's never been one to shy away from a little overstimulation - something to do with being the Embodiment of Greed maybe, something to do with excess. And with all of the orgasms he's had tonight, you can already tell that he's tipping towards that mindless, drunken headspace that he occasionally achieves.
"Oh, yeah, that's the stuff," he groans out in that accented lilt, deep and already a little gutted. Even without any pupils, you can tell that his eyes are rolling back in his skull. There's a little bit of drool smeared around his lips, glinting underneath the glow of the lights and it just inspires you to try and drag him in deeper to that blissed out headspace. He's already so close, precariously dangling over that wonderful edge. He just needs a little push.
"You're feel so good, Mammon," you praise. You catch the way that his hips skip a little in their rhythm at your words. "You're the only one who can make me feel this way. There's no one else like you."
His eyes lids flutter, but an arrogant grin makes an appearance on his face before quickly melting into a silent, open-mouthed gasp. "O-of course there isn't," he manages to say, even while you can see the rare tint of a monochrome blush staining his cheeks. It fuels your own carnal want, dousing it like gasoline on an inferno, driving you to ride him with even more ardor. He grips onto your waist like he needs the feel of you underneath his palms to stabilize himself underneath the barrage of ecstasy.
The scent of your shared desire hangs heavy in the air like a special cocktail, a particular type of aphrodisiac that left you a thrall to pure debauchery and instinct. You can practically taste it, melting across your tongue all heavy and musky, saccharine and spice; a flavor that you couldn't find anywhere else if you tried. It's enough to have your body gravitating towards that debilitating pleasure and based on the blissed-out expression on Mammon's face, he isn't far off either.
"So good, Mammon. It's just you, always you, " you moan, and the place between his brow's crinkles close. Your eyes are barely able to track it when he's propping himself up on a single hand, giving himself the leverage to reach up and loop something thin and smooth around the stretch of your neck. It's strong despite how fine it feels, like a silk thread - webbing. It's webbing. He grins when he tugs you forward with the makeshift collar, curling his body around you like he can't stand any sort of unnecessary space between either of you. His lips meet yours with a relieved groan, asking you to open your mouth with the split point of his togue, nipping with his teeth. You whine and moan into him, thrusting down onto his cock from how his thread tightens around your neck, more of a suggestion than an attempt to restrict your breathing, but it spurs you on even more. The pair of hands on your waist start to wander, one drifting up to cup your ass in a tight squeeze and the other dips low to roll the back of his knuckles over your clit. For a second it makes you lose the steady, deep drag of your pace, and your lungs snag on their breath, making break your kiss with a whine.
"Don't you dare fucking stop," Mammon demands in a tone that's frayed and little slurred. "Keep going. I wan' it, I want it - fuck." His tucks his head into your neck, tracing the shape of his web with the dexterous glide of his tongue. You can feel his lips moving against your skin in some kind of repetitive chant and it takes a little while for your ruined brain to make sense of it. You can hear him whispering in a hushed, frayed voice: "Mine," over and over again as he licks and sucks at your skin, intent to leave marks behind.
He pushes his hips up against yours in a punishing pace, plunging his cock up into you, hitting that devastating spot inside of your cunt that has you sobbing. Your hands claw at him, searching and gripping onto the layered fabric of his motley, twisting the material into the clutch of your fists while you try to hold onto the rest of your sanity, but you don't think that you'll be able to. It's all too much too soon. You can't hold on as much as you try to. Not while he grinds a knuckle against your clit, shoving his cock into you relentlessly, making any semblance of a coherent thought evaporate from your head as though they had never been there. You can feel it sweeping over you like you're a pathetic piece of debris caught with the current of a swelling wave. You can feel that magnetic vibration building around his body, catching you in its field and dancing across your skin, letting you know that he's just as close as you are.
You gasp his name like it might save you, even while you're begging to be eaten alive. It's all so overwhelming, so consuming that you don't know what to do with yourself. How to cope with the scope of the emotions and sensations; the scent of you both and all the sounds bombarding your senses. It isn't a conscious decision when you pull Mammon down a little further and sink your fangs his neck, piercing the fabric that keeps it concealed. But it's hard enough for you to taste something like spiced iron flood across your tongue.
The reaction it gets from you both is immediate. His body draws up tight while he gasps out a harsh, "fucking hell - shit - " and you can feel him pulse inside of you before you're flooded with another gush of his cum. The feel of it, the chill of it and the sheer amount is enough to trigger your own orgasm. Your vision goes dark, a vignette marring your sight while a white-hot tide takes control of your body, leaving you a passenger in your own mind. And for one blissful moment you don't even exist. You don't have a job, or an apartment with judgmental neighbors. You don't have a favorite food or a particular song that you listen to on repeat. For a moment it's just you and him.
It takes everything in you to cling onto him. Your wings flare out involuntarily, body twisting while your cunt clings around his girth like it's trying to work him for all he's worth. You can feel that searing bliss in every part of you. From your toes to the pit of your abdomen, making your eyes roll in the back of your skull while you ride out the tail end of your pleasure and everything fizzles into a gentle darkness. For a minute everything is still. Peaceful and gentle while feeling comes back to your limbs and you remember how to breathe. But it's ultimately a familiar scent that guides you back to reality, light with the twinge of leather, earthy, warm and smoky. It sort of smells like money. It smells like Mammon. You lean into it, nuzzling your face into something soft and expanding with breath.
It's enough to make you open your eyes that you hadn't even realized had closed, to look up. The small motion takes a great amount of strength with how sapped your muscles feel, even with the last bits of lust still thrumming in the air and energizing you, but you manage. Mammon has collapsed back against the cushions with you clutched against his stomach with each of his hands gripping some part of you. Even from this angle you can see the pleased, almost dopey smile on his face as he sightlessly stares up at the ceiling. It's such an uncommon expression to see on him, untainted by his usual snark or hubris, but the rarity of it always makes you cherish them even more.
But then you see a furrow pinch between his brows and his mouth purses in clear annoyance. It has worry prickling at your skin, nestling in your gut like a block of ice, but before you can ask him what's wrong he's speaking. "I can't believe you were gonna leave me for that shitty little bloke," he grumbles. He tries to sound harsh and unbothered, but you swear you can hear something fragile peeking through the rasp of his voice.
"I wasn't actually interest in him," you assure, answering honestly, propping your arms on his stomach enough to hold yourself up. "A friend had set me up. I just - I don't know. I was . . . I needed a distraction."
"Which friend?" He asks suddenly, sounding a little too intrigued.
You squint at him suspiciously, letting a short bout of silence fall over you both. "No. You aren't allowed to kill them." He visibly pouts at that, and this one is actually genuine. You entertain the thought of making a joke. Of steering the conversation somewhere humorous to save the both of you from something that might be too real, too bare. But you know you can't. If you're going to try and do this with Mammon again then these kinds of talks need to happen. "That wasn't just sex talk, I really didn't want him, Mammon. Not for a single second."
His gaze sweeps down to you, and you're sure that you catch something vulnerable flit across his expression; eyes minutely widening with what may have been relief, but it was so quick that you barely get any time to register it. He schools his features into something indifferent and nonchalant before you can truly take it in. "Psssh, of course you weren't interested in him. How could you be when you've got me."
"Exactly," you agree, watching him preen under the comment, inspiring you to lean into his ego a bit to draw him out of whatever dark thoughts may be running around in his head. "It would be stupid if I did."
"Dumb as shit," he agrees eloquently, with his brash charm.
It has a laugh puffing from your chest, and it's quickly followed by a heavy drowning warmth in your chest, like a sun was caught within your bones. It's purely fond. Full of endearment and love. You love him. Fuck you love him, even if it tears you apart. It might be stupid, a road that leads to a dead end or a perilous cliff, but you couldn't be bothered to stop on your path to possible self-destruction. You don't know if the true scope of your emotions is returned. If Mammon is even capable of feeling something like raw, selfless love. Probably not. Compassion and consideration don't exactly align with his function as the Embodiment of Greed. Of being avarice incapsulated inside a body to fulfil a particular purpose within Hell. But you always held out hope that there was something in there. You've seen the pure affection displayed by Asmodeus for Fizz; living proof that a Sin could be more than its role, its basest instinct. If the personification of Lust could find and express love, then just maybe Mammon could to.
Wow, look at you, being hopeful in Hell.
You're broken out of your internal struggle when Mammon shifts, tightening his grip around you to keep you secured to his body as he tilts on his side. He curls himself around you even more until his chin is resting on the crown of your head, engulfing you in the breadth of him and his scent. It's enough to settle the torrent inside of your mind, replacing those insecurities and replacing them with comfort and contentment. You can feel the gentle fuzz of sleep beginning to lap at you, seeping into your limbs and weighing them down. You want nothing more than to sleep. To let yourself fall into the dredges of unconsciousness with the soothing chill of Mammon's temperature wafting over your body like a balm. But it's a little difficult to do that when every inch of you is still damp with sweat and his cum is still steadily pouring down your thighs from around the weight of his length that he's yet to pull out, flowing with each small shift or movement.
"Mammon?" You ask, listening to the steady draw of his breath, hoping that he hasn't fallen asleep, but even then, the pattern is still too quick for him to be unconscious. You purse your lips, sighing audibly. "Moo?" You try again, and sure enough at the sound of the corny nickname a simple, but questioning grunt rising up in response.
"We're going to need a bath."
"Eughhh," he groans, low and already thick with the desire to sleep. "Fuck."
#hb mammon x reader#helluva boss mammon x reader#mammon x reader#helluva boss mammon#Hazbin Hotel x reader#helluva boss x reader#helluva boss x y/n#helluva boss x you#helluva boss#hhx reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel#mammon hb x reader#mammon helluva boss#mammon hb
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training season 🗡️ cassian
summary: cassian is overseeing your training, and despite his attempts to keep it professional, when he learns his desire for you is reciprocated, he can't hold back any longer
warnings: 18+, smut, implied r*pe/SA (off-page, in past), blood, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink if you squint,
word count: 1.7k
Your relationship was strictly professional.
At least, that's what Cassian told himself as he admired your body carrying out the manoeuvres he had instructed.
The way you moved with such grace despite emulating movements designed to end a life captivated him. It was impossible for him to take his eyes off you, partly because he was overseeing your training. But mostly because he was undeniably attracted to you.
Flustered from the exertion, you turned to him for feedback.
"That was good," he praised. "You're still holding your sword a little low. If you were fighting someone your own size, it'd be perfect."
Unspoken was the hint that the assailants you'd been training to fend off were male, thus much larger than you.
Cassian had offered to train you when he had spotted you at a fighting ring - not to place bets, but to watch the fighters' movements and tactics to teach yourself how to fight.
He'd known you for a while by then, and was aware of a traumatic event in your past that was the cause of your dedication to fend for yourself; to never be weak again. He saw that determination in your eye and found himself offering to train you before he had even a chance to consider it.
Over the past three months, you had thrived under Cassian's tutelage. From your own self-teaching, you had a good foundation to work with, and Cassian had a front-row seat for your transformation. Rather inconveniently, Cassian's attraction towards you had also thrived in that time.
Clearly frustrated with yourself, you began the movements again, making sure to hold your sword a little higher. Your two-hour session must have been over, because Azriel arrived to winnow the two of you back into the village.
"Looking good, Y/N!" Azriel called from his spot beside Cassian, eliciting a grin from you.
A spark of jealousy flared in Cassian at the affection.
You were Azriel's friend first. It was through Az that Cassian had met you, on a night out in a tavern. You had tried to keep up with the boys, but your lower tolerance left you requiring an escort home, which Cassian was happy to oblige.
Sheathing your sword in one swift movement - a vast improvement from the first few times, showing how quickly your training was becoming muscle memory - you made your way over to Cassian and Azriel. A sheen of sweat glistened on your brow as you caught your breath, causing Cassian's mind to wonder how you might look after a good fuck.
Nope. Cassian shut down that thought before it could alter his scent and make things very awkward. For the most part, he had done a good job holding the reins on his desire - only a few lingering touches and straying glances. To his knowledge and relief, you had not picked up on anything.
Guilt ate at him for his thoughts about you. You had trusted him - a male - to oversee your training, despite your experiences with males. He would not take advantage of his position just to get in your pants. It would be overstepping a boundary.
Az winnowed the three of you back to your village, dropping you off just outside your little cabin on the outskirts, before he disappeared again.
"Same time again tomorrow?" You asked Cassian.
He nodded in confirmation. "You did good today, Y/N."
Your smile at his praise was enough to put out the flicker of jealousy.
-
A knock sounded at your front door just after two in the morning, jolting you awake.
Instantly alert, you grabbed the dagger from under your mattress and clambered out of bed as silently as you could. As you stalked toward your front door, you monitored for any sound of danger - just like Cassian had taught you.
You pressed your ear against the door but could hear nothing amiss. Guardedly, you unlocked the bolt and opened up the door, dagger ready.
Cassian stood before you.
Your shoulders sagged at the relief, the possibility of threat gone. But once you noticed Cassian's face bloody and bruised, you tensed up again.
"What happened?" You asked him softly, ushering him inside and bolting the door behind him.
"Sorry if I woke you." He spoke quietly.
You motioned for him to sit down, dagger clattering on the table as you set about wetting a rag to wipe the blood from his face. So gently, you patted his bruised face, removing both dried and wet blood, his nose still trickling.
"You get in a fight, hm?" You asked absently, more focused on cleaning him up.
Cassian just said, "You should see the other guy."
You stood between his spread legs as he sat in a chair that was groaning under his weight. Each gentle touch of your skin on his sent shivers down Cassian's spine. He became hyper-aware of just how little you were wearing.
Used to seeing you in fighting leathers, Cassian's attention snagged on the gauzy nightgown you wore. The white flimsy material left little to the imagination, and he could see your peaked nipples in his direct eye-line.
He cleared his throat, shifting about and attempting to avert his eyes. But there was nothing else to look at, you were standing so close to him. The floral scent of you was overwhelming - far more overbearing than when he caught your scent outdoors.
"I hadn't realised you wouldn't be decent," Cassian said as you finished cleaning the blood off his face.
You looked down at your nightgown. "Am I not decent?" You asked.
Cassian's eyes trailed you as you retreated a few feet away, rummaging through a cupboard for a balm to put on the cut on his cheekbone, the bloody rag discarded.
"Your nightgown," he ground out. "Leaves little to the imagination."
"You like it?" It sounded innocent, but it was laced with something more. A challenge.
You made your way back over with some of the balm on your fingertip, returning back to your spot between his legs as you applied it to his bruised face.
"You think I don't see the way you look at me?" You asked. Cassian's stomach dropped. "I know you want me. I want you in the same way. Why do you hold back?"
He was dumbfounded. Language seemed to escape him. But you had said the words he had been desperate to hear. I want you. That was enough for him.
He let go of his restraint.
Wasting no time, he rose to his feet. He loved the way he towered over you, how small you were compared to his huge form. Fingers under your chin, he tilted your face up to his. He captured your lips with his own, hard and hungry. You tasted even better than he had imagined as he thought of you late at night by himself. The way you opened your mouth to let him in sent blood straight to his cock.
Eagerly, you fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, unfastening them one by one. Once his shirt was off and tossed aside, you broke the kiss only to pull your nightdress over your head, leaving you utterly bare before him.
He let out a growl at the sight, his large hands roaming your body, soft under his rough touch. With a hand on your ass, he pulled you closer against him. The moan that escaped you as you felt how hard he was was like music to his ears.
Without warning, he lifted you as though you weighed nothing. You braced yourself, hands on the bulging muscles in his arms, as you wrapped your legs around his torso. With such ease, he carried you over to your bed, laying you down gently and kicking off his boots.
The sight of you bare beneath him had his cock straining against his suddenly too-tight trousers. You tilted your head back, exposing your neck to him. Seizing the opportunity, he pressed his lips to your neck, kissing, sucking, nipping with his teeth. Claiming you as his, marking you. Slowly, he worked his way down, kissing and licking your chest, between the valley of your breasts. Finally, he placed his mouth over your peaked nipples, which had been torturing him since he'd first noticed them. All the while, Cassian toyed with your slick pussy, dipping his fingers in and out in a motion that had you writhing beneath him.
You were so lost in the pleasure, you hadn't even noticed his trousers come off until his impressive length was lined up with your entrance.
"Say you want it," Cassian's voice was so full of lust you could barely think.
"Please," you murmured. "I want it."
Slowly, Cassian pushed inside you. You cried out at the feeling of his cock filling you, stretching you. He groaned at how tight you felt, aware of his size as he gave you time to adjust once he was fully seated inside you.
"Cassian," you breathed, fingers clawing at his back, desperate for him to move.
He began to thrust, gradually picking up the pace as your body adjusted to his. With each thrust, he hit that sweet spot that had your orgasm building already.
"Fucking hell, you're so tight," he ground out.
You dug your nails into his back and clamped your teeth around his shoulder to muffle your moans. His pace was unrelenting.
"I'm so close," you moaned.
"Cum for me, baby," he coaxed.
Obeying, you cried out as release barrelled into you, stars exploding in your vision. Cassian's pace did not slow down, riding you through your orgasm. At the feeling of you cumming around his cock, Cassian knew his release would follow suit.
"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he growled.
You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him close. "Cum inside me."
Your words pushed him over the edge. His pace finally halted as he stilled, spilling himself inside you just as you had asked.
For a few moments afterwards, the two of you remained still, chests heaving as you caught your breath. Slowly, Cassian pulled out of you, some of his cum leaking out.
With two fingers, he gathered up the leaking cum and pushed it back inside your pussy. "Since you asked for it," he said with a smirk.
Instead of leaving, like you thought he would, he laid down next to you, still catching his breath. You knew from the look on his face that he was not done with you yet.
#cassian#cassian smut#acotar#acotar smut#cassian acotar#lord of bloodshed#cassian x reader#cassian x you#cassian x y/n#acotar fanfiction#acotar x reader#a court of thorns and roses
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How and what happens if the reader was pregnant during mating season and had all of the other kids?
Big family and big… week? Lol
Sudden Mating Season (18+)
Bayverse!Turtles x reader
A/N: I think that most of the kids are products of some… successful mating seasons. I mean, that’s what the mating seasons are for, right? It is also my belief that the guys' mating seasons will take a bit of a back burner after they’ve had children, but that doesn’t mean it’ll last forever (I mean, haven’t you noticed the 10 years between Valentina and Gerardo?). But honestly I think it would be somewhat well planned out, with the kids going to their grandparents for the week.
Warnings: Implied sex, planned/unplanned pregnancy.
Leonardo:
After you and Leonardo’s third child, his mating seasons seemed to have taken a calm for good. Leo’s animalistic instinct to spread his seed in order to create offsprings calmed with the birth of Gerardo. So that was it, you and Leo thought. No longer would you have to send your kids off to their grandparents for a whole week, so you and Leo could go at it inside your shared bedroom. So for the next many years, you and Leo would bring your kids along to April and Casey’s farm house for a family vacation, leaving the lair to the other turtles and their partners as they went through their season. That went on every year, until Leo’s brothers too no longer felt their season creep upon them during the spring. And with that, none of the people in the lair seemed too concerned about spring time, thinking that those days were nothing but the past.
But then, 10 years after the birth of your third child, things changed once again. Leo woke up the day before May with a strange feeling inside of him. His senses were heightened, and he felt the intense need to… oh no.
You woke up to Leo shaking you awake in the early hours of the morning, almost seeming frantic, stress painted over his face.
“Call your parents”, he said urgently.
“What? Why? What’s happening?”, you asked in confusion, feeling concern take the place of your tiredness.
“It’s back”, Leo said, already sounding very drained, breathing heavily as if he was suffering. “I’m not sure how or why, but it’s back. It can be here at any moment”.
You stared at him for some time, trying to figure out what he was talking about. But then it clicked in your head, remembering the last time you had seen Leo like this. Spring time 10 years ago.
“I’ll call them, and tell them to take the kids”, you said, quickly grabbing your phone before leaving for the hallway.
“Thank you”, Leo sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. He already felt horrible. Like he was a young teenager experiencing his first mating season all over again. Here he thought he had heard the last of it, but nope. He could feel his season creep closer and closer, threatening to take over at any moment.
Luckily for you and Leo, your parents agreed to take the kids for the week. You did not have to tell them what was going on. They understood straight away, having been through this several times before.
Your parents quickly came by and picked up the kids, Leo’s brothers quickly understanding what was going on, making sure that none of their kids would walk too close to your hallway. You hugged your boys goodbye, calming Gerardo’s worries quickly, when he asked if his father was okay. Poor boy, he had never tried this before, and he had obviously noticed that his father wasn’t doing too well. Romeo and Marcello had looked at you with a grossed out expression, exclaiming loudly that they did not want to be the ones that explained the season to their little brother. Luckily you didn't have to worry about that, before your parents took the boys out of the lair.
You and Leo found yourselves locked up in your room, in a way you hadn’t done in years. And when the week was over, Leo was once again calm, excited to be with his boys again the next day. But as you cleaned yourself up and decided to take a pregnancy test, just out of pure mating season habits, you were shocked at the outcome. You were now pregnant with your fourth child, and never again would Leo experience another mating season.
Raphael:
You woke up to the feeling of Raph’s lips traveling down your back, his big hand massaging the flesh of your hips. You hummed and tried to push Raph’s hand away, pulling the blanket up around you.
“Not right now, Raphie”, you mumbled, your eyes still closed. “The girls can wake up at any moment”.
Raph chuckled in his raspy morning voice, grabbing onto you a bit firmer pulling you closer to him, his breath fanning over the side of your neck as he spoke into your ear sending shivers down your spine.
“Have you already forgotten your parents picked them up yesterday?”, he asked, burying his face against the crock of your neck, trailing kisses down your shoulder.
Your eyes opened in an instant, remembering what Raph was talking about. Your parents had been over yesterday, eating lunch with you, Raph and the girls, before they brought Joan and Mini with them, just like they did any other spring. And that’s when your sleepy brain caught up with Raph’s hand that was running down from your hip to the inside of your thigh. It was springtime.
“I guess I have”, you smiled, focusing on the feeling of the thick green finger that was playing with the edge of your panties. “What about the others? Are they home?”
“Nope”, Raph smiled, taking in your scent like it was a drug he was addicted to. “They are either with the inlaws or in April and Casey’s farm house”.
“So we’re all alone?”, you asked with a hint of amusement in your voice.
“Yup”, Raph hummed, pulling your thigh closer to him, the back of your thigh coming into contact with his now slick cloaca. Excitement building up inside of you, knowing that he could drop at any moment. “So I’ll not let you hold any of your beautiful sounds back”.
You turned, just enough so that you could look at Raph’s face, his pupils blown out with lust as he buckled slightly against you in an attempt to create some friction where he needed it the most.
“Do your worst”, you teasted, giving Raph the green light, letting him jump on you as you let out a playful yelp.
—
Around a week later, your parents brought Joan and Minerva back to the lair, greeting you and Raph with big hugs and bright smiles, along with new toys and many detailed stories.
7 year old Joan was telling you and Raph about a movie she saw with your parents over lunch, while 3 year old Mini played with the new monster truck she had gotten, making it jump over her plate of apple slices.
You and Raph were engaging Joan in her story, while keeping an eye out for Mini’s monster truck, but then a scent made its way to Raph’s beak. He did a few sniffs before turning his attention towards you, the gear turning in his head as he tried to remember the last time you had smelled like that. Then he realized what he was smelling, what hormones were starting to flow through your system and what it meant.
“You’re pregnant?!”, he exclaimed, looking somewhat shocked, you and your daughters staring at him in confusion.
But Raph was right. When you took a test later that day, you were delighted to learn that you indeed were pregnant once again.
Donatello:
For the first few years after Galileo’s birth, you and Donnie did not think that you wanted more children. After Gali came to the world, it took four years before Donnie’s mating season came back, and with that, a desire for more children. However, much to you and Donnie’s dismay, you did not become pregnant with his first returning mating season. After a whole week locked up in your bedroom, you were still not pregnant. But that didn’t stop you and Donnie from trying. Even during the outside of your husband’s season, you would try whenever it was possible.
But then, when spring came around once more and Donnie could feel his season creep up once again, your parents happily took Gali with them to their vacation home out of state. On their way out, you and Donnie pretended not to hear their comment about how they were hoping that this would bring them more grandchildren. How lucky you were that Gali didn’t seem to catch on. That was not a conversation you were ready for yet.
—
After a whole week of non-stop sex, you were more than sore. Your whole body ached as you moved around in the bed, still not willing to get up. Donnie chuckled at the sight, pulling you closer with a pleased smile.
“You okay there?”, he asked, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.
“No”, you muffled, hiding your face against his plastron. “Everything hurts, and-”. You cut yourself off with the sudden nausea that fell over you. Even though your body hurt, you wasted no time running towards the toilet. Donnie was right on your heels, holding your hair back as you started to throw up into the toilet bowl. Though your discomfort was obvious, Donnie could hold back his smile when the scent of your hormones reached him. You were finally pregnant.
—
“It looks dark”, 5 year old Gali said, watching the monitor in front of him. You and Donnie chuckled at him. How adorable could a child be?
“I haven’t even started yet”, Donnie said as he turned on the ultrasound, the monitor coming to life.
“Then huuuuuurryyyyy!”, Gali whined, jumping impatiently in front of the monitor. He wanted to get a view of his new younger sibling as fast as possible.
Donnie placed the ultrasound on your stomach before moving it around over your almost second trimester baby bump. A picture formed on the monitor, and Gali smiled excitedly.
“You see that?”, Donnie asked, and pointed out a slight circle on the screen. “That’s their head, and here… is… another head…?”
“What did you just say?”, you asked somewhat alarmed.
Donnie moved the ultrasound a little further to get a better look, his confusion turning to shock and happiness, his eyes looking to you with joy written all over them.
“Twins”, he mumbled, tears of joy forming at the corners of his eyes. “We’re having twins”.
Michelangelo:
“So!”, Mikey said, turning to you with a mischievous smile, closing the bedroom door behind him, making his way closer to you. “Your parents have just left with Sunny, and the others are either hiding in their rooms. You know what that means”.
“Cuddles and a good movie?”, you asked innocently, knowing very well that wasn’t what Mikey talked about. His blown out pupils and his flaring nostrils made it very clear that he was fighting not to jump on you, his instinct taking a stronger and stronger hold on him. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Wrong!”, Mikey exclaimed with a smile, wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you closely against him, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. “It is baby making time!”
You chuckled against Mikey’s lips, soon finding that your chuckles turned to pleased hums as he backed you over towards the bed. The same bed you would be stuck in for the rest of the week.
For a long time now, Mikey had been wanting another child. While his brothers seemed to have calmed down a little after the birth of their children, their mating season being absent for a few years afterwards, Mikey’s did not. You went straight from one pregnancy to yet another mating season, where you and Mikey did your best to become pregnant once again. But nothing had happened for the past two years, so you were now hoping that the third time would be the lucky time. So when Mikey pushed you down onto the bed, you welcomed him with open arms, giggling as he crawled in between your legs.
—
A little over a week later, you, Mikey and Sunny found yourselves resting in the living area. You and Mikey were seated on the couch with Sunny between you, the 3 year old keeping herself entertained by walking back and forth between you, her legs wobbling on the soft couch cushions, laughing loudly whenever she would tumble into one of you. You and Mikey couldn’t help but laugh along with her, happy to see your daughter smile as bright as she did everyday, warmth filling both of your hearts.
Sunny then tumbled on the soft couch, her head butting straight into your hip, making you worry that she had gotten hurt. But Sunny did not cry. Instead she stared at your hip area in confusion, giving no thought to you and Mikey’s soft hands on her head or your careful words, asking if she was okay.
“Why do you smell like that, mommy?”, she asked, her small face contorted in a small frown.
“What do you mean?”, you asked, looking to Mikey for an explanation. Could he smell anything?
Mikey gave the air a sniff, trying to figure out what his daughter was talking about. He then jumped from the couch, his eyes wide with happiness and a joyful skip to his steps, making Sunny laugh once more.
“Babe!”, he exclaimed. “You’re pregnant!”
“What?!”, you asked in disbelief, but before Mikey could answer you, he pulled you and Sunny from the couch, holding you both close as he spun you around in circles, Sunny continued laughter, ringing out in the lair, catching the attention of the rest of its inhabitants.
“You’re pregnant!”, he yelled out, placing a quick kiss on your cheek. “We’re gonna have another child! Did you hear that, Sunny? You’re going to be a big sister!”
#tmnt#teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt leonardo#tmnt raphael#tmnt donatello#tmnt michelangelo#tmnt raph#tmnt donnie#tmnt mikey#tmnt leo#tmnt x reader smut#tmnt x reader#tmnt leo x reader#tmnt leonardo x reader#tmnt raph x reader#tmnt raphael x reader#tmnt donnie x reader#tmnt donatello x reader#tmnt mikey x reader#tmnt michelangelo x reader#tmnt bayverse x reader#tmnt bayverse x reader smut#tmnt leo x reader smut#tmnt leonardo x reader smut#tmnt raph x reader smut#tmnt raphael x reader smut#tmnt donnie x reader smut#tmnt donatello x reader smut#tmnt mikey x reader smut#tmnt michelangelo x reader smut
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a field of geranium - yuuji itadori
--
summary ! you and itadori have been together since middle school. when he randomly breaks up with you and disappears from school, you're left heartbroken and completely alone.
warnings / tags ! angst to fluff , exes to lovers , non-sorcerer reader, hopeful ending! implied fem reader, written with a poc reader in mind (skin tone and race unspecified!), past bullying, yuuji is lowkey dumb, reader is stated to be intelligent, lonely reader .. lots of angst. probably not very canon accurate to how curses work but shush.. reader curses a lot lol.
a/n ! hope you guys like this! i loveee yuuji sm .. this probably isnt good i haven't written in a while ;;
--
you remember a time when it felt like yuuji would always be around.
when he would kiss your forehead before classes and during lunch, hold your hand as he walked you to class and write you childish love notes during maths.
you never expected him to break up with you, let alone over text. you'd planned on confronting him at school after he had repeatedly dodged your frantic calls, but when you entered the school, yuuji didn't go there anymore.
it stung. yuuji had been your best friend since middle school, defending you from the bullies who'd pick on you for various things that'd later become insecurities of yours. (sometimes you wonder if those things are why yuuji left.)
going back to eating alone in the single stall bathrooms and having nobody to talk to during passing periods was a hard transition. your parents weren't any help either, telling you that high school relationships never lasted.
(you can't bring yourself to throw away the promise ring he gave you.)
you see him out one day, with a pretty brunette girl, carrying shopping bags for her. you go up to him; he's clearly moved on. (you can understand why. she's gorgeous.) he doesn't seem to notice you.
--
you're sitting alone the class garden for your botanicals class. you remember a time this was your favourite class (it was one with yuuji; go figure.)
now it's filled with bittersweet memories and the grief over someone you know isn't dead.
you're calm as a boy you've never seen before approaches you. your hands are gloved and your hair is a bit messy as you look up at him.
“be careful around here, please. it's class policy not to walk on the soil.” you scold a bit, his boots having crushed one of the plants.
he looks down at you, his face a bit stoic, “sorry.”
“it's alright- did you need something?” you smile at him politely.
he snaps his fingers, frowns a bit, then says “nope,” and walks off.
you'd never seen him before. he didn't even have the right uniform on.
--
“i cannot believe you just made me do that.” megumi rolls his eyes.
yuuji frowns a bit, “i'm sorry but- i can't go up to her.” megumi rolls his eyes as nobara fumes a bit.
“you broke up with her over text. no wonder no girls like you.” she snarks and yuuji just glares at her.
“i had just eaten sukuna's finger! i thought i was gonna die soon anyways!” he argues back,
“well then why haven't you tried to talk to her again? not that she should take you back- i pity the fact that she dated you at all.” nobara speaks as they walk away from the school.
“she probably has new friends anyways, plus she could get hurt, she's not a sorcerer.” yuuji says, his face looking almost like a kicked puppy.
nobara looks at him and raises an eyebrow, “didn't you say you were her only friend? that curse probably attached to her cause she's lonely.” she pops her gum after saying the last sentence.
“even more proof that me being around her is dangerous! plus- what if sukuna gets out around her while i sleep or something?!” he sighs, looking back and sneaking a peak at you in the botanical garden, “she's better off.”
megumi looks at him a bit, “i'm not surprised. you are the self sacrificing type after all.”
“i just think its rude to break up over text with no explanation, you guys were together for so long too.” nobara shrugs a bit.
“if i had spoken to her any more than that, i think i would've tried to stay.“ yuuji frowns.
--
two weeks after the boy approached you in class, your botany teacher dies in a freak accident, or at least that's what the police said. you aren't too sure.
ms. woods was a smart woman. you knew from the lunches you'd spend in her classroom to avoid bullies that she seriously loved plants.
so dying by ingesting a poisonous plant? out of character and frankly, insulting. you know that can't be the whole story.
that boy had something to do with it; it has to be. you look through your yearbooks after he had left; no sight of him. you go through all of your classes, all grades, you ask around. nothing. he didn't go to your school but he walked up to you during botany class and then two weeks later your teacher dies.
it can't be a coincidence. you go nearly crazy over it. you stay up multiple nights. you cry.
you remember when ms. woods called you smart, when she understood your grief over itadori and let you extend your onion cell project. you cry; something horrible happened to her, you just know it.
so, the night you stay in the school way too late studying poisonous plants in her room, you have a good excuse for why you see a huge monster in the hallway.
at first, you think you're seeing things from the sleep deprivation. you blink, rub your eyes and squint. it's still there.
“holy shit!” you jump out of your seat, going for the door to the garden before realizing they're locked, only able to be unlocked via a key- which you don't have.
the monster, a disgusting bipedal amalgamation of red roses, vegetables, cacti and other odd plants was slowly walking towards you.
“what the fuck.. oh my god- what the fuck?!” you shout, your hands shaking as you go to grab the nearest object to defend yourself as you press your body against the door. you grab a glass flask and hold it out as if it's at all a threat to the 8 foot creature in front of you.
the creature groans and you begin to tear up. this is it- you're about to die the same way ms. woods must have. nobody is going to mourn you besides your parents. you're going to die with people thinking you injested a poisonous fucking plant. you shut your eyes tight in preparation as it approaches.
it never does. you hear the creature use ms. woods' voice to cry out as someone attacks it. you peek to look.
its yuuji. and the girl from the mall. and the boy you thought killed ms. woods.
you gasp as they use all sorts of stuff against the thing and- are those bunnies?
“what.” is all you can gasp out as the brunette and the black haired boy run off, chasing the monster.
yuuji looks at you with his puppy dog eyes and you resist the urge to slap his stupid kissable face.
“yuuji, what the hell is going on.” you say, but it comes out as more of a statement than a question.
“i.. um..” he looks back at the two he came with who are now chasing the monster down the science hall, “that's the curse ms. woods left behind.. we're getting rid of it.”
“a curse? and- and you're fighting it?” you ask, puzzled.
“i promise i can explain but,” he pulls you into a tight, squeezing hug, “I was so worried. A special grade curse against you- I was terrified that we'd be too late. We didn't notice in time to get it before it tried to hurt you.”
“did it kill ms. woods?” you ask.
he shakes his head, “no- the grief from her death created that.” you gasp.
“I made that?” tears spill as the adrenaline settles.
“no!” yuuji pulls away a bit, looking at you put still holding onto you, “no. you didn't- it's not your fault. oh my god, it's not your fault- i love you please don't blame yourself!” he hurries to reassure you.
you sob into the crook of his neck, “yuuji- you.. why did you go? i was so lonely. it's been so hard.”
he can feel his heart break as he squeezes you once more in his embrace, “i'm sorry baby- i'm sorry.” yuuji soothes you, rubbing circles into your back, “i didn't want you to get hurt but- it happened anyways.”
after several minutes of silent comfort, you pull away, wiping your tears before giggling.
“where'd you get those face tattoos?” you sniffle and laugh.
yuuji laughs too.
“it's a long story.“
you smile, “tell me about it. i wanna hear.”
#yuuji itadori x reader#itadori yuji x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#yuuji x reader#yuji x reader#itadori x reader#yuuji x you#yuuji itadori#itadori x you#yuuji itadori x you#yuji itadori x reader#jjk fluff#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen angst#jujutsu kaisen fluff
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seventeen and saying “I love you” for the first time
PAIRING. seventeen (ot13) x gn!reader
GENRE. fluff, slight angst?, headcanons/scenarios, established/implied hidden relationship, idol au
WARNINGS. some kissing, consistent terms of endearment, just absolute softness dude.
WORD COUNT. 3.4k
requested by anon: hi hiii i love your writings and i see the reqs is open. so how do you think svt would say 'i love you' for the first time? like, they're people who's being supervised all the time and very busy, so they're pretty hesitant about whether the relationship will work out or not but then he realizes that it means so much to him after some time.
notes: i hope i manage to capture ur request well aaaa i’m not confident. for this i wrote a lil scenario under each member instead of the usual long ass descriptions, but i thinki veered off the request oops and they get more silly as you read more LOL. sorry this took such a long time and if it seems repetitive! i started running out of ideas alksjderj
choi seungcheol
“Y/N, you don’t need to𑁋”
“cheol, I insist,” you bring your hands to his shoulders, directly him to lay down on the bed. “just rest up, please. let me cook for us tonight, okay?”
seungcheol could only watch as you disappear into the kitchen, coming back in with a steaming bowl of soup. the constant practice and performances ultimately made the stress hit him at once. and you being you, took this as the opportunity to take care of him.
you sit down at the edge, carefully lifting a spoonful of soup and before bringing it to him, grinning at the satisfied hum that leaves his lips.
as you continue feeding him, you ramble on about your day, and he could only listen. it’s these moments he’s grown to cherish where the stresses of his other life dissipate and he lets himself be taken care of, but these burdening feelings for you lingers.
you’ve constantly assured him that taking care of him was a way to show that you want this relationship as much as he does, despite all the consequences. it always brings a certain flutter to his heart, almost like a hug he’s always needed. he’s known the feeling for a while now.
he doesn’t realise you’ve finished talking as he sees you stand up, but he’s quick to grab your hand.
“wait, uh,” he starts, and you see the hesitation flicker in his face for a moment. pursing his lips together, he looks back up at you with nothing but adoration. “you know that I love you, right?”
you blink, nearly dropping the bowl from the way your hands grow limp at his words.
“well,” you smile shyly. “now I do.”
yoon jeonghan
“angel? what are you doing?”
“me?” you ask as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious you were the only person in the room. “just folding your laundry.”
jeonghan can’t help the smile to his face as he enters into the bedroom, placing himself down next to you at the edge of the bed. he could lay down if he wanted to; he finds his body exhausted from rehearsal. but he doesn’t want to lay down yet, at least not without you.
“what do you say I drop by your dressing room before your performance?” you ask him with nothing but hopefulness.
he lifts a brow. “are you sure? don’t you have work tomorrow?”
you smile at him, folding up his last shirt. “nope. called in sick so I can attend your stage. thought you’d need me to charge you up with energy, you know?”
jeonghan’s heart does a particular leap. for nearly every performance that you visit him at, he finds himself continuously clinging onto you for good energy and support. he does it out of spite, simply because he loves the feeling of your body, your warmth, your love against him, like a constant reminder that you are there, and you are real.
“I think I’d love that very much.” he sits closer to you, snaking an arm around your waist once you place his folded shirt down, pulling you closer to him.
and he knows he’s done for when he hears those giggles leave your mouth.
so he leans in close, whispering something in your ear he has always wanted to say for the longest time now.
“but not as much as I love you.”
joshua hong
no matter what day it was, joshua always finds himself waking up in the mornings before you do. even after an exhausting day of rehearsal the previous night, he still wakes up before you.
his eyes flutter open as he peers in your direction, a soft smile crossing his face at the sight of your chest heaving up and down rhythmically. he doesn’t want to disturb you, but you’re just so darn cute and beautiful, and the rest of the day is fortunately free for the two of you.
“sweetheart,” he lets a finger poke lightly at your nose, smirking to the way it crinkles from his touch. “wake up, remember it’s my day off today?”
“mmmh,” you grumble, playfully batting away his hand with yours. “ten more minutes.”
joshua knows he can’t get himself to resist you, so he lays back down in bed directly across from you. he doesn’t fall back asleep, instead only lets his eyes wander admiringly over your features, and he thinks he can wake up like this next to you for the rest of his life, even with his busy career.
he knows the consequences when it comes to love, but he’s willing to love you to himself all he can.
leaning in, he presses a tender kiss to the top of your forehead.
“I love you.” he mutters quietly, and he catches sight of the subtle lift at the corner of your lips.
wen junhui
you find jun napping soundly on the couch. or so you think he is, because the moment you approach up to him, you find a pair of arms lodging around your waist and pulling you into the couch, a surprised yelp leaving your mouth.
“jun! oh my god𑁋what are you𑁋”
“you’re finally home, my little blanket~”
“you are ridiculous,” you murmur annoyingly, but end up naturally relaxing in his arms anyway like you always do. pressing up against him, you let your head fall to the crook of his neck, where it seems to fit perfectly. “long day today?”
you feel the rise and fall of his chest, a deep sigh leaving his lips.
“just tired,” he responds. “but better now that you’re here.”
you smile against his skin. “you know you count on me for anything, right?”
there’s some silence, a silence thick with unspoken thoughts, but it’s mainly jun who can feel it. he knows he can, knows he can tell you anything that comes to his mind and that you’ll listen. it’s just... a bit terrifying being this intimate, this in love with you knowing it can jeopardise his career. but he’s already in deep. he knows he is.
“can I tell you something?” he asks, voice laced with nervousness.
he feels you nod in his embrace.
taking in a deep breath, he pulls back to be able to see you.
“I... I love you,” he confesses, feeling the heaviness lift off his heart. “been wanting to say that for a while.”
and if it was possible for your heart to smile as well, nothing stops you from kissing him.
kwon soonyoung
“would we still be together if I was on a five-year long tour?”
“mhm.”
“what if I had to move countries?”
“of course.”
“even if I turn into a tiger?”
“surprisingly, yes.”
a pause.
“...would we still be together if I wasn’t an idol?”
“a million times yes, soonie.” you grab his soft face in your hands, giving a gentle squeeze to his cheeks. “I can assure you we would still be together no matter what.”
that was all the reassurance he needed. soonyoung can’t help the excitement bubbling in his chest as he’s quick to lean in and pepper your face with kisses, causing chuckles to elicit out your lips as you fall down on the couch behind with your boyfriend hovering above you, staring down at you with loving eyes and a goofy, lovesick smile.
“gosh, I love you so much, Y/N,” he mumbles against your lips. “and I’m gonna tell you that for the rest of the night.”
jeon wonwoo
“no, no, what if someone saw us? I should have been more careful, I’m so sorry𑁋”
“Y/N,” wonwoo’s voice is firm and demanding, and you make yourself shut up. “it’s okay.”
“but𑁋”
“darling,” he grabs your hand into his, letting the other drift up to cup your cheek softly. “we’ll be okay, I can promise you.”
“I𑁋but what if this ruins your career?” you ask him, feeling the way his fingers are caressing over your knuckles. it calms you down just a bit. “what if me accidentally holding your hand just...”
wonwoo sighs and leads you over to the couch where you both settle yourselves down next to each other. he knows the probable consequences of getting caught, but he cares more about you than what some stupid news dispatch claims. they can say anything, and he’d still be willing to protect you more than himself.
“don’t be scared, okay? even if we were caught...” he hesitates, lips forming a thin line as you wait for him to continue. “it still doesn’t change the fact that I want to be with you, because I love you, and I want this. I want you.”
you feel your lips quiver, some streams of tears running down your face. you can’t get the words out, so you bring him in your embrace for a warm hug, hoping to convey how much you love him as well.
lee jihoon
“babe, this sounds great.”
jihoon just smiles proudly, posture leaned back in his chair as he watches your head bob up and down to the melodies and the sound of his beautiful vocals traveling throughout his studio. you have a hand at the tip of his knee, giving him gentle squeezes each time you got more into the music.
if only you knew that you were a source of inspiration for too many of his songs. too many that he could count.
“thank you,” he says sheepishly. “I managed to whip it up in two hours and was thinking about bringing up with the others.”
“if I love it, I’m sure they will too,” you reach over to grab his hand ressuringly. “and I’m not being biased, I’m serious.”
there’s a particular shift in his grin that you notice. it feels more... fond, moreso admiration even though you should be the one admiring him for this. though jihoon has his challenges in voicing his emotions, sometimes you can just tell from his face.
“okay, I should head home,” you stand up, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “call me later, alright?”
“text me when you get home safe,” he tells you, helping with grabbing your belongings before walking you to the door. once you’re in the door frame, he lowly mutters out under his breath, “...I love you.”
you catch it, but just barely, yet you unconsciously respond with, “I love you too,” before turning back to him with a look of shock and wide eyes. “wait, what?”
xu minghao
a yawn leaves minghao’s mouth as he inputs the code to his apartment. but when he steps inside, he’s immediately met with the familiar aroma of food lingering around him coming from the kitchen. when he walks himself into the kitchen, his eyes grow wide.
“Y/N?” his voice makes you freeze as if you were caught committing a crime, letting his gaze fall to the dining table. “what’s all this?”
“shoot, I didn’t expect for you to come home early,” you scratch at your head, placing down the dish in your hands before walking up to him. “I... uh, tried cooking some of your favourite foods. it was supposed to be a surprise.”
minghao just smiles and approaches up to the dining table with you cowering behind him nervously. his eyes scan over the array of dishes meticulously prepared with love and care, feeling like a fresh wave of home hitting him.
“you know you didn’t have to grow through all this trouble for me.” he turns back to you.
“I know, but I do,” you tell him with a heartfelt smile. “it’s just... a way to show how much I care when you’re gone, since you always come home tired.”
his face only softens. stepping up to you, he places both of his hands firmly at your waist, and he feels you tense up for a split moment before finally relaxing. brushing back some stray hairs from your face, a grateful sigh leaves his lips.
“I love you,” he tells you, suddenly feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “thank you for everything you do for me.”
kim mingyu
“gyu, get off me.”
“no can do.”
“but you have to go to work.”
“you are more important than work.”
you haven’t had your morning coffee, and your puppy of a boyfriend won’t get off of you, finding most of his body sprawled on top of yours so you’re basically flattened to the bed. at least he had the decency to give you some room to breathe and move, but just barely.
he’s clingy, but not this early in the morning𑁋well it’s usually after you’ve had your morning coffee, but it’s clear you haven’t yet and he’s been glued to you since the moment you woke up. you feel his lips meet the skin of your face, planting soft kisses on your cheeks and forehead to try and coax a smile out of you.
“you’re... suffocating me, gyu.” you squirm just a bit, before his arms circle around you, and you find himself laying right next you on the bed.
“sorry,” he nestles himself up against you. “just don’t want to leave you.”
you run a hand through his messy hair, peering down wonderingly at the way he’s cuddling himself against you. “is everything okay? you’re not usually this clingy. well, you are it’s just𑁋”
“if I say it, will I get a kiss?” he sits up in bed, gazing at you with those desperate eyes that you just have to cave in.
you sigh. “yes, you big boy, I’ll give you any kiss you want.”
mingyu bites at his bottom lip nervously, knowing he has to get it out or else he can’t take it anymore. it’s all that ever clouds his thoughts whenever he takes a single glance at you. he knows it all: the consequences, the hate comments, but the only thing that could break his heart would be to separate from you.
and so he leans in, his breath grazing against the skin behind your ear.
“it’s a secret, so don’t tell anyone,” he whispers. “but I love you.”
lee seokmin
“seokie?”
immediately, seokmin takes his attention of his phone to turn towards you, a mixture of worry to his face. he sets his phone on the bedside table to give you his undivided attention.
“what’s wrong, sunshine?” he asks you, already opening his arms for you to settle in.
you give in, allowing the protection of his arms encircle around you.
“nothing, it’s just...” you glance up at him. “do you think you can sing me to sleep?”
for some reason the simple request was enough to send seokmin’s heart into overdrive. nothing but a wide smile crosses his face as he nods, allowing you to settle back down on the pillow as he props himself up on his elbow next to you.
he starts to hum a slow lullaby, containing a familiar melody of a seventeen song that you recognise. his voice carries an undertone of affection, his words unspoken yet deeply felt. he watches the way your eyes flutter to a close as he begins to reach the end of his lullaby. if it was possible and if you’d let him, seokmin knew he could do this for the rest of his life. he wants to use his voice to not only bring joy to his fans, but to convey the love in his heart.
at the very last line of the song, he leans in close to be able to whisper in your ear.
“I love you so much, sunshine. dream about me, okay?”
boo seungkwan
“Y/N, what are you doing here?” there’s a mixture of surprise and a hint of panic in seungkwan’s voice as he notices you standing at the entrance of the rehearsal room. luckily it was only him and his members in the room.
“I was in the area, so... I brought you some food,” you hold up a bag from behind your back. “wish I could have brought more for the other guys, but... yeah.”
his eyes widen from your thoughtfulness as you reach an arm out to transfer the bag from your hands to his, and he swears he can feel his heart swell beyond his own chest.
you peer behind him to the other guys laughing and minding their own business, while seungkwan in front of you seems completely frozen in time. there’s a blush to his cheeks that you notice and reach out to pinch, making him come back to reality.
you give him a smile. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
but as you are about to turn around, he exclaims, “wait!”
and when you look back at him, he feels his tongue go dry. he’s been rehearsing this line for the past few weeks𑁋in front of the mirror and everything𑁋but your gaze on him always makes those words land right at the tip of his tongue, unable to come out.
“uh...” then he steps up closer, glancing back towards the guys before back at you. even though it may not be the right time and the right place to say this, he does anyway, “I love you, thank you for the food.”
you can’t help the chuckle to your lips as his face turns even redder, and the kiss that you place to his warm cheek doesn’t help at all.
vernon chwe
“hey, babe.”
“hey.”
it’s the only exchange you and vernon share before he drops himself on the bed, letting his head rest in your lap, a contented sigh leaving him. naturally, you run your fingers through his hair. you can tell that he’s tired from today.
you and vernon have always had the ability to see how the other feels without words. he can see a quiver to your lips and tell you are frustrated, or you can collapse in his arms and he’ll let you hold him while he’s doing something else to recharge.
but he’s been too quiet lately, you’ve noticed, only exchanging the simple hello’s, goodbye’s, and kisses to each other’s lips without saying anything more since he had to rush work. it’s been troubling you, but him laying in your lap has relieved you... sort of.
“everything okay?” you ask him. “you’ve been... awfully quiet today.”
“yeah, just... work, you know?” he answers, but you can sense the hesitation in his words.
you think for a moment, before asking, “want to talk about it?”
vernon pauses, and you feel like you can physically see him thinking. he sits up from your lap, criss-crossing his legs together before turning around and facing you.
“um, you don’t have to respond, but uh...” he rubs the back of his neck meekly. “...would you freak out if I told you that I love you?”
you stare at him blankly, or lovingly, you don’t know, but you feel your heart doing jumps inside your chest and it’s starting to hurt.
“I’m freaking out from how long I’ve waited for you to say that.”
lee chan
“I love you, Y/N,” chan announces... to the mirror at himself. “or should it be like, ‘I’m in love with you’ or ‘I want to spend the rest of time’𑁋agh, that sounds so cheesy.”
he brings his hands up to his face frustratingly. why is it so hard to simply say how he feels about you TO you? he’s known how he feels for a long time, even with the other members constantly telling him how he has to be careful and all that, or how something like this could make or break his career, but chan know they’re just looking out for him.
he’s been torn between his career and your relationship, knowing both are equally important to him. but the longer he’s been with you, the more this feeling bubbles inside of him.
“I’m in... love with you,” chan tests. “I love you with𑁋”
“chan?”
“𑁋oh gosh!” chan yelps out, turning his body around and noticing you through slightly open doorway of the bathroom.
you furrow your brows, eyes flicking over your boyfriend’s forced smile. “are you okay? I thought I heard muttering.”
“yeah, I was just... rehearsing my speech,” chan pauses for a second. “...just in case we win today?”
you roll your eyes. “cute,” then approach up to him, fixing some of his strands of hair with your finger. “I wish I can make it to your stage to support you, but I know you’ll kill it anyway.”
you tell him something about your work, but chan only keeps his eyes fixated on you. and as you were about to leave, he swiftly grabs your hand.
“Y/N,” chan starts, and you see him noticeably swallow. “you know you mean a lot to me, right?”
you turn back to him, intrigued. “I sure hope I do.”
“okay, and since you mean a lot to me, I know you’ve been my number one support,” he continues, feeling all the words spilling out. “and you’re just... so pretty, so funny, you always make me smile, and I think that... I love you. not think! I do... love you.”
you could only stare at him, wide-eyed, pinpointing the vulnerability in his own eyes, and you feel your heart swell enough to bloom a smile on your face.
planting a kiss to the corner of his lips, you utter out, “I love you too, chan.”
taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @ylliris-hanniehae @icyminghao
#kflixnet#k-labels#seventeen imagines#seventeen headcanons#seventeen reactions#seventeen x reader#seventeen fluff#svt fluff#svt x reader#scoups x reader#jeonghan x reader#joshua x reader#jun x reader#hoshi x reader#soonyoung x reader#wonwoo x reader#woozi x reader#minghao x reader#the8 x reader#mingyu x reader#dokyeom x reader#dk x reader#seungkwan x reader#vernon x reader#dino x reader
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into you
Summary: After almost giving up the hope to become a big actor you get offered the leading role in a period drama, leaving you to spend three months in Scotland with your male co star Dieter Bravo and maybe falling in love with him.
Pairing: Dieter Bravo x fem. reader
Wordcount: 2.247
Rating: T
Warnings: fluff, falling in love, implied smut, kissing, really cheesy movie lines I made up, confessions of feelings, reader is in her late thirties, Dieter playing the piano
A/N: Another one for @undercoverpena April showers challenge! What's better than a Pedro character in period clothing in the rain? Making out with him hehe
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You couldn’t sleep.
The moon was shining hrough the window of your hotel room, an old castle in the middle of nowhere somewhere in Scotland.
You had come here almost three months ago, having gotten the first big job of your career, the lead role in a period drama. The first lead role you ever got. The first big job you ever got.
For years you dreamed of being a big movie star.
Much like every young person who came to LA.
Which had been almost twenty years ago. You had been about to quit trying for that one big role that would finally grant your your big success last year.
By now well in your thirties (the forties getting closer and closer), not having any major success apart from some multi episode secondary character on some netflix shows in the latest years, you gave up hope that you would make it.
Sometimes the residuals you got from playing Chandler Bing’s awkward girlfriend for two episodes almost twenty years ago on friends had been the only way to pay your rent.
You were looking into going back to school when your agent called you, talking you into going to this last audition. It had been as a favour to them that you agreed, the contracts between you and the agency already canceled towards the end of the month.
They had always believed in you and you hated saying no to them because of that reason.
Maybe it was you having nothing to lose that left you going into the audition and blowing them all away. Not that you thought you did until your agent called you not even twenty minutes after you went out of the audition, asking you to come back to read opposite the male lead.
Still you didn’t let yourself getting your hopes up, walking back into the office building, back into the room you had been in before, now with an additional face smiling warmly at you.
You didn’t know that in the next two hours your whole life would change.
Not just because they offered you the job.
No, It was the day you met Dieter Bravo.
Of course you knew who Dieter Bravo was.
You had admired him since he starred in the high school drama series you definitely did not tape every episode from when you were in your teens.
And there had been no posters of him in your room growing up, nope.
But like almost every teen crush, it faded over the years.
You grew up, and he did too. You knew he had won an Oscar some years back, you saw the movie in the cinema back then.
He had made headlines after that, naming him the next big thing.
But lately the only headlines you remembered of him had been of his drug escapades and dating life.
So you had been a little reserved when you first met, hoping he would be professional enough throughout the audition.
Hope you shouldn’t have had, because Dieter had turned out to be professional in every single way.
Now, after spending almost two months with him, playing opposite of him, acting that you were in love with him, you found yourself wishing he would be a little less professional.
Groaning you sat yourself up in your bed, clicking the lamp on the bedside table on, reaching for your phone.
2:43 am.
Taking a deep breath and releasing a long sigh as you exhaled you let your head fall back.
In twenty four hours you would be on a plane back to the states, already on your way to shoot your next movie, your career seemingly finally starting off now that you were starring in a movie with Dieter Bravo.
You should be beyond happy.
Everything you dreamed off finally seemed to come true. You had three jobs lined up that would pay more than you had made in the last ten years combined.
Yet the thought of waking up every morning and not getting to spend the day with Dieter made it all bittersweet.
You had spent a lot of time together since getting to Scotland to shoot this movie. Not only on set, but apart from it too. He had been here before, shooting another movie and invited you out some times, showing you around. You had dinner together almost every night be it in an restaurant he wanted to show you or in the hotel. You got to know the man behind the persona you learned he put on for the public for and over the last weeks you had found yourself falling for him.
Your fingers cam up to brush over your lips, the lips he had kissed.
More than once.
In front of the camera.
But before you went to bed tonight, he walked you to your room and he had kissed you good night. Without cameras rolling. Without people around. Just you and him. His warm hand on your cheek, your back pushed against your hotel room door as he towered over you, his other hand resting on the door behind you.
You were out of breath when he parted from your lips, wishing you a good night, leaving you watching after him with your lips parted, your brain still trying to process that he had just kissed you, as he went down the hallway until he disappeared into his room.
You were too giddy to sleep, getting an old sweatshirt on before you grabbed your hotel key and walked out of your room, hoping he was as sleepless as you were and downstairs where you had found him often during your stay.
You could hear the faint sound of a piano as you entered the lobby, the night manager giving you a small smile as you walked past, following the sound.
In the far back corner of the lobby was a piano where you found Dieter playing a melody you did not recognise.
You had found him here before, in the beginning when you could not sleep because you were too nervous to fuck this big chance you got up.
He told you that his art supplies hadn’t been shipped yet, and that he usually painted when he couldn’t sleep.
And so instead he played.
And you listened, sitting next to him until you both almost fell asleep, before he walked you to your room, only to be up some hours later to shoot a movie where his character denied to be in love with your character, pushing your character away until a big dramatic scene where you would finally admit your feelings to each other.
Sitting down on the seat next to him as he played now, you let your head fall against his shoulder, hearing him inhale as he continued to play.
His lips brushed against your temple and you closed your eyes, just listening to his song.
When he finished you looked up at him, his eyes were already on you, an unreadable expression on his face.
„Couldn’t sleep?“ he asked.
You hummed in agreement.
„Too many thoughts in my head,“ you whispered and he nodded. One of his arms came to wrap around your back, pulling you closer against his side.
„You wanna talk about those thoughts?“ he asked and you chuckled.
„Don’t wanna fuck the big scene up tomorrow, well today,“ you said and he gave you a small smile.
„If someone is gonna fuck up it’s me. You make me keep forgetting my lines,“ he winked and you felt your cheeks growing warm, remembering the many occasions Dieter had seemingly spaced out during some scenes, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t place.
„What do you mean?“ You asked, and he sucked his bottom lip in, before he shrugged and there it was again, that expression in his face, his eyes big as he looked at you.
„I can’t stop looking at you. You’re so talented and beautiful and kind and so damn intelligent. Sexy….,“ he winked „You just blow me away and it’s like my brain stops working when I look at you sometimes. I never really felt like this before…“ he whispered and you blinked at him.
„What I am trying to say is, I like spending time with you. I like talking to you. I like kissing you, touching you,“ he grinned and you huffed.
„Especially when it’s just the two of us. Last week when the director called cut when we were in bed….“ He closed his eyes, shaking his head.
You had rushed off after finishing the scene with him, having to take care of the ache between your legs in the bathroom after spending almost six hours in bed with him, shooting numerous sex scenes.
„I wish we had been alone,“ he whispered his face getting closer to yours, his lips brushing over yours.
„Dieter,“ you whispered, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his lips pressing against yours and you shivered.
„Yeah?“ He asked.
„We are alone now,“ you whispered and he nodded, before he kissed you again, deeply.
„Would you like to have sex with me?“ He whispered and your lips twitched into a grin which he mirrored before he kissed you again.
„Take me to your room, Dieter,“ you said, giggling when you found yourself pulled in the direction of the elevators in the next moment.
„This is madness,“ you shook your head, the rain coming down on you without mercy, drenching your many layers of clothes.
„Why? Why is it madness that I have fallen for you?“ Dieter asked, in character, his white shirt clinging to his chest.
You huffed a laugh, your character in denial about the feelings not only she had, but he had too.
„Because we are both engaged. And not to each other. We have to end this. I have to….“ You shook your head, closing your eyes, before you looked up at him. Dieter having closed the distance between the two of you, but not close enough to touch. The raindrops where running down his nose, his hair clinging to his face.
He looked like a wet dream straight out of a Jane Austen novel.
„All these times we spend in each others arms, they don’t mean anything to you?“ He asked.
„It was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened,“ you said, Dieter’s character seeing right through your lie.
„Do you love me?“ He asked and you did not have to play the small smile that sneaked to your lips for only a moment before you fought it down.
„It doesn’t matter,“ you said, turning away from him, but his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you before you could go.
„It matters to me. ,“ he whispered, broken, and the tone of his voice made you want to cry.
The rain continued to fall as you gave the camera time to capture both of your faces.
„Of course I love you,“ you finally said, looking at him over your shoulder.
„Then stay,“ he pleaded. You began to shake your head, when he pulled you against his chest, one of his hands on your cheek, brushing your hair that stuck to your face to the side, his eyes gazing deeply into yours.
„Stay and allow yourself to be happy,“ he said, almost begging.
„Stay here and let me love you,“ he let his forehead fall against yours and your eyes dropped close, pictures of the night he had spend with you filling your mind, the way his forehead had rested against yours as he filled you over and over and…
You opened your eyes and Dieter’s lip twitched for a second, having caught your unintended pause.
„What about our families?“ you asked, „What about my sister? She’s in your house getting ready to marry you today,“ you asked.
„They will understand. They have to. And if they don’t, I’ll take you away where we can live our life without the judgement of others. You’ll never have to worry for money.I love you, please be with me,“ his nose brushed against yours.
You felt his other hand on your lower back and you gasped.
„Then take me away,“ you whispered, feeling his smile against your lips as he finally kissed you, your arms wrapping around his broad back, fingertips brushing over his drenched clothes as he deepened the kiss.
The first thing you realised when Dieter parted from your lips was that the rain had stopped and that it was quiet around you. Too quiet.
Looking at Dieter he gave you a sheepish smile before you looked around, finding the crew around you looking at the both of you, Dieter’s PA holding two robes in his arms, giving you a wide smile.
„You gonna listen when I call cut now?“ The director teased with a wide grin and you let your head fall against Dieter’s chest, mortified, but he just chuckled, before he helped you get into the robe his PA had brought over.
„We’ll meet in an hour for the wedding scene, do not be late,“ the director reminded everyone, giving you and Dieter a longer look, and you nodded. Dieter grabbed your hand, and you looked at him.
„Can’t wait to marry you,“ he winked and kissed you again, before you both were rushed off from the set to get ready.
And you did actually get married.
Seven months later.
On a beach.
In the rain.
Without any interruptions.
#undercoveraprilshowerschallenge#my fic#Dieter Bravo#Dieter Bravo x fem. reader#Pedro Pascal#fanfiction#fanfic#fan fiction#pedro pascal characters#dieter bravo fanfic
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