#I wanna smooch him wittle face! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uno-writing · 3 years ago

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Hi can I maybe get an enemies/rivals to lovers imagine with Arlo🙏? Like maybe reader is a royal at another school and they've butted heads for years? Maybe the argument is about reader wanting to challenge John to a turf war and they're taunting Arlo about how they'd beat John just to rub it in Arlo's face and Arlo tells them not to (because he secretly doesn't want to see them get hurt) (btw idk how turf wars work, but the idea is there)? And now they have a big argument about it and it ends in confession? And maybe a lil smooch? Just a lil kiss kiss?

Oooh! Big brain!! Sorry if Arlo's a bit OOC, I had a lot of pre-calc today and my brain was a bit fried when writing this. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 662

Warnings: Just some cursing, a bit of smooches, one mention of the phrase "i hate you" but it's not used seriously.

“You’re going to do what?!” Arlo asks incredulously, exasperation filling him at the mocking face in front of him, a smirk gracing their lips and an eyebrow raised at his reaction.

That fucking face.

The same face they’d made whenever they got the upper hand during a turf war. The same face they’d make whenever he stumbled over his words in an argument.

It’s never been more annoying than in this moment.

“You heard me. And you’ll never hear the end of it when I end up kicking “King John’s” incredibly tightly wound ass into next week and knock Wellston’s prestige down a peg.”

Yeah, he did hear right. Unfortunately.

Arlo’s heart drops into his stomach and he shakes his head.

“You can’t do that.”

Arlo’s mind whirls as his brain feeds him the most likely outcome of that turf war. Y/N’s body laying unconscious in a puddle of their own blood while John stands over them, having used their own ability against them.

“Can’t I? Last I checked, you weren’t the boss of me.” Y/N sasses and Arlo’s jaw clenches in annoyance.

“Pick something different to piss me off. Pick anything other than this.”

��Hmm...I could. But it seems like this idea bothers you more than anything else I could choose.” Y/N taunts and Arlo runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“Good. At least I’m returning the favor, jackass.”

“Can’t you just listen to the ONE thing I’m asking you to do?!”

Y/N shrugs. “I wouldn’t say it’s the one thing you ask me to do. I mean, you “ask” me to shut up multiple times a week so, ya know.”

Arlo realizes he’s not getting anywhere at this moment and takes a deep breath to try and think of a different approach.

“Please. Don’t challenge him.”

“Ooo! Please? You really don’t want me to smear your darling school in the dirt!”

“I don’t care about Wellston! He will send you to the hospital!” Arlo yells, his frustration and worry escaping his self control.

“Why do you care?” Y/N asks and Arlo stays silent for a moment, just long enough for Y/N to put 2 and 2 together.

Their stupid annoying face.

“Awww, do you wove me? Do want me to not get hurt? Is that it, Arwo?” Y/N teases in a baby voice, cooing at the blond in front of them.

Heat rushes up his neck, unknown whether it originates from anger or embarrassment.

“Oh! Is sweet wittle Arwo bwushing? Did telling me he woves me make him bwush?” Y/N continues, scrunching their nose at him.

“You’re so annoying. Would you just shut the hell up?” Arlo huffs, lightly glaring at them.

“Or what? You’ll tell me you wove me? You already did that.” Y/N scoffs, the baby voice now mostly gone.

Arlo lunges forwards and grabs their face, smashing his lips against theirs. They’re frozen in shock and he grumbles against their lips,

“You piss me off so much.”

They finally regain some of their thought process and kiss him back, their hands shakily gripping at his arms to try and ground their flustered brain. He pulls away and sees the dazed look on their face.

“Who "woves" who now?” Arlo hums after a moment and Y/N meets his gaze.

“You do and that’s why you’re stupid enough to fall for my tricks. Don’t tell me actually think I was gonna challenge John? I wanna piss you off, not sign my own death warrant.” Y/N scoffs and the triumphant look from before slides off his face, being replaced with annoyance.

“I hate you.” Arlo scoffs, moving away from Y/N.

“No, you wove me.” Arlo rolls his eyes at the repeated taunt.

“Shut up.”

That stupid smirk appears on their face again, a challenge in their eyes.

“Make me."

Well... Arlo’s never been opposed to some peace and quiet.

#unordinary #unordinary arlo #unordinary arlo x reader #unordinaryxreader #berriwords

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gnocchighoul · 4 years ago

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Operation Hot Potato

Summary:

“See? She’s just a baby~” you coo, gently wiggling the kitten in his face.

Lucifer grimaces. Takes another, larger step back. “If a baby is what you want, I’d rather give you one myself.”

(You bring home a kitten and try to hide her from Lucifer. Unfortunately for you, nothing gets past the House of Lamentation’s resident pet-hater.)

Word Count: 3.6k

AO3 Portal

You found a kitten.

Well—kind of. It’s debatable.

You think it’s a kitten. She certainly looks like one—fluffy little thing with snow-white fur, blue eyes, a poofy little triangular head, and the most perfectly pink toe beans you’ve ever had the pleasure of squishing.

The reason why you’re so hesitant to call her a kitten?

She breathes fire. Hiccups fireballs. Sneezes flaming hot streams of… well, flames.

You learned that firsthand ten minutes ago, when you nearly got your eyebrows singed off by a particularly dangerous sneeze. All you wanted to do was give her a smooch on her wittle pink nose, you weren’t expecting to get blasted in the face with an orangey-red inferno.

But you know what? It doesn’t matter if she’s a little strange. You’ve sworn your everlasting love to your newfound daughter—your secret daughter that the demon brothers can absolutely not know about under any circumstances whatsoever, because you just know that Lucifer will make you put her back in the wild where you found her.

Your fire-sneezing, bouncing baby girl wouldn’t last another day out in the harsh wilderness (aka the dumpster that you retrieved her from). In the forty-seven minutes that you’ve had her, she’s grown accustomed to belly scratches, sleeping in your bed, and gnawing on only the finest tortilla chips in the Devildom.

Her name is Tater Tot.

She sticks out like a sore white thumb among your colorful assortment of pillows. Not that she cares. She’s living it up in the lap of luxury. Tater Tot stretches—turns around with every paw in the air, proudly showing off her rotund little baby belly, and mrrps at you.

Its the cutest thing you've ever fucking seen. You just wanna SQUEEZE her. Ugh, who would've guessed that a little trash fire baby would steal your heart so quickly?

And it’s not like you broke the rules and brought home a pet on purpose. Tater Tot had chosen you. By choosing to rummage around in that specific dumpster that you just so happened to walk past on your way home from RAD, Tater Tot had effectively decided that you were to be her new caretaker.

It’s fate. Kismet. You’ve wanted a pet for so long—dog, cat, dragon, gremlin, doesn’t matter. You’ve spent hours upon hours bitching and moaning to anyone that’ll listen about how badly you’ve wanted a pet to smother with your love. Nobody has been able to escape your woe. Everyone—the brothers, the angels, Solomon, and even your good buddy Diavolo (somehow, Barbatos has managed to evade you) have all been forced to listen to your lamenting about the pet-shaped hole in your heart.

But finally—finally—your prayers have been answered.

With a fire breathing kitten.

Oh yeah. Kismet.

You’re fairly certain that Tater Tot has never lived in a house. She had been perfectly content to snuggle up in your school uniform like some kind of tiny, pouch dwelling, heat seeking creature, until you had snuck into your bedroom and closed the door behind you.

The second you set her on the floor, it was like a switch flipped. Tater Tot had shown off her unnatural strength by flinging her little puffball body around the room like a possessed tumbleweed, spastically crashing around the room and knocking over furniture and keepsakes alike.

You had finally cornered her under your bed and sat peacefully nearby, humming quietly to calm her. It didn’t take long for you to coax her out with snacks—she liked the chips, but passionately disliked the gummy worms—and within twenty minutes you had Tater Tot lounging with you on the bed, rubbing her soft little cheeks into your palm for rubs and scritches.

You need to come up with a plan to hide your beloved child ASAP. It’s only a matter of time until either Lucifer hauls you off to his room or one of the brothers decides to camp out in yours for the night, and if word gets back to Lucifer that you’re harboring a fugitive animal… Well, favoritism or not, it won’t end pretty.

Though perhaps there is one person who can help you with this little secret.

Satan. The cat-loving fourth brother.

Man oh man, he’s going to be thrilled with sweet little Tater Tot. You have to be careful though—you reckon that there is a 96% chance that he’ll try to steal her away from you. Trying to juggle custody battles and harboring your secret daughter from Lucifer all at the same time sounds like such a pain.

But… That would still be better than having to put Tater Tot back on the streets.

With the threat of big-meanie-Lucifer looming over you like a particularly gothic and pet-hating phantom, you come to a final decision. You’re just going to have to pull on your big girl pants and accept the soul crushing truth of the situation.

Satan is your only hope.

But how are you going to sneak your daughter all the way over to his room?

You look around your own room for something, anything that can hide your beloved dumpster pet and—ohohoho.

“Darling?”

You freeze midstep.

Busted.

“What’s up, Lucifer?” You try so hard to keep your voice calm and normal. So hard.

Judging by the way Lucifer looks at you, you’ve failed. And you were so close. Satan’s bedroom is literally right there! Only a few yards away! If only you’d just had ten more seconds to yourself in the dark hallway... Alas, the warden your beloved Lucifer aka the resident pet hater stands between you and the dusty salvation that is Satan’s library of a bedroom.

You shuffle your feet a bit nervously. Readjust your grip on the cardboard box. A bit warily, Lucifer eyes it.

“What’s in the box?”

You panic. “What box?”

Fuck.

Lucifer cracks a smile, though it doesn’t meet his gaze. He gestures to the cardboard box that you are currently holding near to your chest like some sort of ugly, cubic liferaft.

“Oh!” You laugh. It’s too high pitched. Suspicious. “This box? It’s just some books for Satan, it’s nothing—”

The box sneezes.

Your mouth snaps shut and you thank all the fucking stars in heaven that this sneeze didn’t flambé you.

Lucifer’s eyes narrow accusingly. Tone icy and sharp, he says, “Books? Is that so?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck—

You wilt a bit under the intensity of his gaze. “They’re… cursed books? Yeah, so cursed and dangerous and only Satan knows how to nullify the evilness of these books so I’m gonna just slip past you—”

Lucifer takes a step to the left, planting himself firmly in your path and effectively thwarting your desperate grand escape. A single blade of moonlight cuts through the curtains and slices through the shadows, Lucifer now caught in the spotlight and—oh that fucker did that on purpose. Ugh, what a drama queen.

Red eyes practically glowing in the dark, he nods menacingly at the box. “Go on then. Open it.”

“I dunno, I really shouldn’t because of the curses and—”

Clearly not in the mood to entertain your scheming-slash-rambling, Lucifer takes matters into his own hands. Before you can twist away, one of his hands darts out to knock the lid off of the box and—

Books. It’s filled with books.

He frowns. Lifts one up and—nope, there’s just more books underneath. “...What?”

“Happy? Now if you don’t mind I really should get—”

“Let me help you with that.”

Your reflexes aren't fast enough. Before you can leap back or Sparta kick him away, Lucifer plucks the box right out of your arms… and reveals a squirming lump beneath your sweater, right inbetween your breasts. The box hits the floor. Lucifer stares at your newly acquired mass with a very particular sort of horror that you’ve never seen before.

You panic. Again.

“...I grew a new boob. I think the Devildom air is toxic or something, but it’s okay! The more the merrier, right? We can still—gET YOUR HANDS OFF MY TIDDIES—”

Lucifer presses one hand to your lower back, trapping you, and yanks down your zipper, revealing the purrito that is wrapped kind-of-securely to your chest with a scarf. He recoils backwards, looking equal parts horrified and peeved off.

Time for Plan B.

93% sure that you can still recover from this situation that is rapidly soaring downhill, you stuff your hands into your pockets and then throw them outwards, flinging fistfuls of rainbow confetti into the air. “Surpriiiise! You’re a daddy! Say hello to our daughter.”

“No.”

“Her name is Tater Tot. Personally, I think she takes after you.”

The Tater in question shimmies out of her silky prison and tumbles nose first into your palms. You hold her right up to Lucifer’s face, grinning like a goddamn sociopath when he takes an alarmed step backwards. Little puffball paws desperately try to swipe at his nose. Lucifer looks downright offended by the assault of pink toe beans.

“See? She’s just a baby~” you coo, gently wiggling the noodle-limp kitten in his face.

Lucifer grimaces. Takes another, larger step back. “If a baby is what you want, I’d rather give you one myself.”

“As fun as that sounds, we have a perfectly good one right here!”

“That thing is not a baby. Where did you find it?”

There’s a concerned little scrunch in his brow that you wanna smooth over with your thumb, but when you try to close the distance between you two, he moves further out of reach. Frowning, you hug Tater Tot to your chest. She snuggles her face into the crook of your neck and purrs like the smallest biodiesel engine in all of the realms.

“I found her in a dumpster!” you say, perhaps a bit too proudly.

Lucifer’s eyes widen. “In the city?”

“Why is that so shocking? Does the Devildom not have stray cats?”

“That’s not a cat.”

“Well yeah I kinda figured, what with the whole fire breathing thing and all, but—”

“It’s a chimera.”

You stare at Lucifer. Try to gauge how serious he’s being. Tater Tot nibbles on your thumb with little needle-like teeth.

Surely he’s joking.

“...Like the lion-goat-lizard thing? That chimera?”

Lucifer nods.

Like you’re in some twisted version of the Lion King, you hold Tater Tot up in the beam of moonlight that Mr. Doom and Gloom had previously been occupying. Examine her totally normal kitten-features. The distinct lack of goat hooves. Miss Tater licks her nose. A Chimera? Her?

Surely he’s fucking with you.

But… it would explain the whole fire-breathing thing. Kind of. You’re not fully convinced he’s lying, but the truth doesn’t make much more sense.

But if she is a chimera… that’s so badass.

If Lucifer thinks for one second that Tater Tot being a nightmarish Hell creature is going to scare you into giving her up, then he is sorely mistaken. (You did choose to date him, after all. You're an expert at loving on Hellish beings.) At the end of the day, whether Tater is a chimera or a cat or whatever the hell else, you’ve already bonded with each other. She’s your baby and you are not going to let him get rid of her.

If he gets Cerberus, then you get your funky little Tater Tot, dammit.

Lucifer watches this journey of emotions play out on your face. His eyes narrow. He says your name slowly, strained—a thinly veiled warning in his voice.

The grin that overtakes your face can only be described as evil.

“We’re keeping her.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You can’t be serious.”

From the depths of your blanket fort, your hand emerges to flip Lucifer off. He scowls.

“This blanket fort is only for Tater Tot and me.”

“Then perhaps you should relocate to your bed.” Lucifer growls.

You snuggle further into the black sheets cocooning you. With impressive speed, you had raced back to Lucifer’s room and stripped every piece of fabric from his bed in record time. From there, it was simply a matter of combining the dark sheets with a bunch of pillows and voila. You had created your very own anti-Lucifer fortress, right in the middle of his bed.

Tater Tot army-crawls across your thigh and worms her way into the sheets, vanishing like a ninja.

"What?" You peek at Lucifer through a small opening in the fabric. “But then you would just ignore me and Tater Tot.”

“Yes, exactly. I’m glad that we’re on the same page.”

“No! We’re not on the same page at all,” you scowl. “I’m not moving until you bond with her.”

“Then I suppose you’ll be stuck there forever.”

“Maybe I will!”

You can’t see him right now, but you know in the depths of your heart that Lucifer is rolling his eyes at you.

Which, y’know. Fair. You are being a little bit ridiculous. But what choice do you have? The confetti didn't work and Lucifer needs to form an everlasting bond with Tater Tot. He needs to experience how lovely and precious and wonderful your little baby is, so that he won’t make you put her back in the dumpster where you found her.

You have one last tactic. It is by far the absolute worst.

Talking to him. Like some kind of functioning, responsible adult, because apparently that's what you're supposed to do in a healthy relationship. Blegh.

While you agonize over stooping to this final resort, Lucifer climbs into the bed without a word and settles himself in like he owns the place. Which he does. But that’s beside the point.

One of your arms emerges from the blanket shield to poke at his pajama clad thigh. He doesn’t react. So naturally, you poke him again. And again. And again, until finally he sighs, “What?”

You squirm your way out of the stuffy blankets, gulping down air once you're free—sweet baby Jesus, fresh air has never felt so good—and Tater Tot flies out after you, rocketing across the mattress at the speed of light and tumbling around like a little white pom pom. While she does her own thing, you worm your way into Lucifer’s side so that you’re halfway on top of his chest. He huffs and lays there like a board, refusing to hug you, so you grab his arm and wrap it around your shoulders yourself.

Here goes nothing.

“Why are you so against having a pet?” you ask, dancing the pads of your fingers over his chest.

Lucifer cracks one eye open. “The first and last time I allowed pets in the house, Satan brought home 48 cats. In one hour.”

...You really should have seen that one coming.

“Oh. Well, I mean… Is that reallyyy a bad thing—ow! You jerk, I was just kidding.” You pout. “You didn’t have to pinch my butt that hard.”

Lucifer snickers and pats your butt consolingly. “Mmm, no, I didn’t. But I wanted to.”

Briefly, you consider headbutting him right in the chin. But alas, that wouldn’t solve anything, so you settle for pressing a kiss to his collarbone, then reach a hand up to play with his hair, just how he likes. It’s not very ~vengeful~ buuut it’s bound to put him in a better mood.

You trace cutesy little heart shapes on his right pec. “You know what I want?”

Lucifer closes his eyes—lets his head fall back onto the mattress. “We’re not keeping her.”

You snuggle into his chest with a happy little hum. “Yes we are.”

“...Just for the night. Tomorrow you're putting her back where you found her."

You wake up in agony.

It feels like you’ve had a lung ripped out and replaced with serrated knives. Or shark teeth. Each breath drags oh so painfully at your—just kidding.

You wake up well rested and tangled in the bedsheets, your head hanging off the side of the mattress. You’re a little hazy-brained and your skull feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, but that’s probably because of all the blood rushing to your head. When you roll over and haul yourself back up onto the bed, a noise escapes you that is definitely not fit for polite company.

The murky depths of slumber threaten to take you again, so you pat around the bed with your hand, looking for your favorite demon-slash-body pillow. You pat. And keep patting. Where the hell is Lucifer?

You crack one bleary eye open, trying to find Lucifer and—

Where the hell is Tater Tot?

Your heart jolts in your chest as you realize a few things all at once.

One: Lucifer is missing.

Two: Tater Tot is missing.

Three: You slept through breakfast, but that’s less important.

You’re off like a shot, wrestling yourself out of the sheets and flinging them to the floor, then stumbling across the room to get to the door before your brain can even fully wake up. It’s fine, you don’t need 100% brainpower, you just need to find your baby.

You’ve barely taken four steps into the hallway when you slam nose first into Mammon. He catches you, saving your face from becoming acquainted with the floor, and you grab him by the leathery lapels of his jacket.

“Where’s Lucifer?!” you hiss.

Mammon desperately tries to squirm out of your feral grip. You shake him like a polaroid picture.

“Geez, knock it off would ya?! He’s in his office, what the hell is up with you? Wh—HEY! I’M NOT DONE TALKIN’ TO YA!”

Whatever the Weenie has to say to you is less important than finding your child, so as soon as you acquire Lucifer’s location, you haul ass to Lucifer’s study.

In a raging fury that could rival Satan’s existence, you fling open the door, ready to tear Lucifer a new one for not even letting you say goodbye to your beloved kitten and—

And your heart melts into a warm, gooey puddle.

Lucifer is sitting at his desk. Tater Tot is draped across his shoulders.

Lucifer glares at you, but there's no real bite in his gaze. “Keep it down, Phobos is sleeping.”

You blink stupidly, your brain racing at a thousand miles an hour to catch up with whatever the hell you’re currently feeling that has you all mushy and moon-eyed. “Phobos? What the hell? That’s not her name at all.”

“My love, we are not naming our daughter after potatoes. Her name is now Phobos. She and I came to a mutual agreement that it is far more fitting of a name for a creature of her pedigree.”

...You’re so torn. On one hand, you want to argue that Tater Tot is a lovely name for your dumpster kitten-chimera-thing, but on the other hand… he called her ‘our daughter’. As in your guys’s daughter. This can only mean one thing, and you clutch at your heart when you realize what’s happening.

They bonded.

It damn well might bring a tear to your eyes.

You make your way over to Lucifer, shove aside the papers on his desk, and perch your happy ass right on the hardwood.

With a bone deep sigh, Lucifer leans back in his chair. “Why do you always do that? My lap is available, you know.”

Tater Tot wakes up and lifts her heavy little sleep-addled head to meep at you.

You grin—hook your ankles around the armrests of his chair and pull him closer. “So… does this mean we’re keeping Tater Tot?”

“... Yes, we’re keeping Phobos. But that’s it, no more pets.”

“Okay, wait. Hear me out. What about a dog?”

“Absolutely not.”

Lucifer plucks another white hair from his RAD uniform and holds it up to the moonlight, scowling at the offensive thing. Why in all the realms did you have to find a white cat? The damned thing has only lived with you lot for two days and yet somehow its hair has already gotten over every article of black clothing in his wardrobe. It’s infuriating.

His gaze wanders across the courtyard to where you’re sitting pretty on Beel’s shoulders, clawing at his face with your fingertips and screaming in terror at how high up you are. He grins.

He can put up with the shedding fur, so long as he gets to see how your eyes shine like the stars when you see Phobos.

Still though. Why couldn’t you find a black kitten?

“Lucifer! There you are!”

Lucifer flicks the cat hair—lets the breeze catch it and float it away. Before he can even get a proper greeting in, Diavolo is pulling him in for a bone crushing hug.

“You’re here a bit later than usual. How’s life with the new kitten treating you?” Diavolo asks.

Lucifer steps out of the hug and eyes Diavolo warily. “Just fine, thank yo—wait. How do you know about the cat?”

Diavolo blinks innocently. “Surely you told me about her, didn’t you?”

No, he definitely did not—oh no.

Lucifer stares, slack jawed and horrified, because in that moment, he realizes something that he refuses to accept.

No.

No. It can’t be.

Diavolo would never do that to him. He would ne—oh fuck, he absolutely did.

Diavolo planted the cat. He knew that you would find her in that dumpster and take her home.

Lucifer has never known a betrayal quite like this. Diavolo says something about heading off to his office, but he doesn’t hear him over the rushing in his ears.

“Diavolo.”

The demon prince in question pauses in his escape to look back at Lucifer. “Yes, Lucifer?”

“Why did you have to pick a white cat?”

And oh, Diavolo laughs. A full belly laugh that quite honestly kills Lucifer. Just a little bit.

#gnocchiwrites #obey me shall we date #obey me #swd obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me drabble #obey me fanfic #obey me! shall we date?#tater tot's adventures

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katphantom69 · 6 years ago

Text

Drunk Christmas Dares.

((This ones for you Starstruck!!))

The Christmas party was at full blast in the mansion. People were drunk, BM was pole dancing in the living room. LJ and Madam M were playing clown jokes on people. Yes it was grand! The Clock chugged down some eggnog and grabbed an empty bottle "ALRIGHT EVERYONE!! GET IN A CIRCLE TIME TO PLAY SPIN THE BOTTLE" he said as his clock face struck 11 p.m. Everyone gathered around and sat in a circle as the battle was placed in the middle.

Grim sat next to Clock and BM who was right across from Killer. Conner sat across from Darkany and the Kat. Darkanys ghostly children floated around over them as Madam sat between Bo and PK . Tiff , Flacie and Jeff were the last to join.

Clock grabbed the bottle "Alright y'all know the rules ! Let us be-" he paused mid sentence and nudged Kat "Ya might wanna put the little ones to bed this is big kid time!" He said. Kat looked up to see 3 ghostlings sneaking the last of the Christmas cookies. Kat got up and with Omicrons help she scruffed the 3 little ones after they had gotten their snack and took them home. She soon returned and the game began.

Clock spun the bottle and it landed on Jeff. "Alright ya joker look alike... truth or dare?!" He asked. Jeff grumbled swearing revenge under his breath. "Dare!" He said confidently. Clock thought a bit and smirked "Alright Jeffy! I dare ya to let Madam M and LJ give you a fun circus make over!" The clowns squeed delighted as they got their make up. Jeff screamed and tried running away but in the end was caught and painted just like a clown. Jeff looked in a mirror "AHHHHHHH I LOOK LIKE THE JOKER !!!" he said hissing. Everyone laughed at this as Jeff sat down and spinned the bottle. It landed on Bo. Jeff huffed "Truth or dare runt?!" He said huffing. Bo rolled his eyed "Truth!" He said. Jeff sips a beer grumbling "Are you related to zalgo or something cuz you two look the same. Both black and red uuuuuugggglyyyy demons" Jeff said as some beer slipped out his cut cheeks. Bo was fuming "Why you joker shit how dare you!!!!" He said ready to fight but Clock stopped him. "Dude just chill... keep playing" he said as he hushed the others who had started chanting "fight fight fight ". Bo grumbles and spins the bottle. It landed on Darkany. Bo swishes his tail "Truth or dare toots!?" He asked. "DARE!" Darkany said with no hesitation. Bo thought and then grinned "Alright then toots! I dare ya to spin the bottle and kiss who ever it lands on!" He challenged. The others ohhed at that dare. Darkany huffed but spun the bottle "Fine I'll do it!" She said a bit nervous about it.

The bottle spun and every one was watching eagerly to see who it landed on. Well everyone except PK who would rely on her hearing instead. Slowly the bottle came to a stop and pointed to ... Conner. The others ohhed and wolf whistled at that. Bo grins "Alright then Darkany smooch Conner!!" He said. Conner had dozed off a bit but when he heard his name he bolted up "Huh wha-? Whats going on?!" He asked confused. The others started chanting "Kiss kiss kiss kiss!!!" Darkany blushed a bit cursing under her breath. Conner was a deep red surprised at this. Bo smirks "What's the matter Darky?! Scared of a wittle smoochy smooch~?" He teased. Darkany growls "I fear nothing!!!" She screamed grabbing a startled Conners face. She kissed him on the lips staining his with her black lipstick. Conner blushed more as he kissed back a little. Darkany pulled back and just to prove her point she kissed all over Conners face leaving black lipstick all over him. The others cheered content as Bo huffs "Well yess quite fearless I see" he mumbled. Darkany grins triumphantly. Conner stammers a bit "C...c..ca-... can ya ... wa-...war-...warn me ... next time lass?" He said cheeks still red. Darkany blushed more "There won't be a next time you fool!! It was dare!!" . Conner rubs the back of his head sheepishly "Right! Right...right... Well then! It's my turn to spin!" He said trying to calm down.

The game continued and got wilder as no one backed down from dares now. It ended when everyone just passed out exhausted. Jeff was smashed into a window and was now knocked out on the lawn. Bo passed out in the punch bowl. Madam M and LJ passed out in a closet after eating too much candy. PK was taped to the ceiling. The Kat was shaved till not a single hair was on her body, Clock passed out in his underwear and Grim was stuck in the chimney. Darkany and Conner unknowing passed out close to each other, each still a bit flustered from their kiss.

There would be no presents for anyone from Santa. They were all just naughty... too naughty this year.

((Requested by my good friend starstruckcomicsmangatoad!!! We miss ya bud!!

Few where the fuck do I start with the tags?! Alright here I go

@creatortiffany98 @harbardgrim @clockwork-voyage @askwonder13 and um... can someone tag the blog that created Bo please I'm not sure who they are. So anyways ... yeah Enjoy! ))

#my writings #request from starstruck.#this is for you buddy!#creepypasta #ghosts #my ocs #homies ocs #a shit ton of peoples ocs #christmas shit #fanfic

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mylittlemystery · 7 years ago

Text

A King’s Treasure

Sophia

Miss Mystery

Stories

April 26, 2018

A King’s Treasure

To say King Dice’s job wasn’t easy would be the understatement of the year. He worked for the Devil himself, and his job was to help trick people into gambling their souls away. But his shifts were long, and cheaters were getting sneakier. As such, he tended to build up a lot of stress throughout the day, and usually got some pretty bad migraines because of it. However, being the Devil’s right hand man had its perks.

There was a particular one King Dice liked to exploit.

The day was done; he had just finished cleaning up the main floor of the casino, and could officially call it a night. He sighed in relief, running a hand along the back of his neck. He would need to run this by his boss, as per usual. He walked down the hallway to his office, sticking his head in the doorway (the Devil usually left it open after hours). “Boss? It’s all wrapped up.”

The Devil glanced up from his desk briefly. “Hm? Ah, good.” He then returned to his own work.

King Dice couldn’t help but smile. His boss looked so adorable when he was concentrating on something, right now it being counting the money they had made that day. He stepped inside, walking behind the throne. “Did we make our goal today?” He inquired casually.

“Mm,” the Devil grunted.

King Dice chuckled. “You look so cute when you’re focused, you know…” He planted a tiny kiss atop the fluffy head.

The Devil stiffened, clearly not expecting that. He set down the bill he was holding, and began fiddling with his hands.

King Dice took that as a sign he could continue, and kissed the back of his boss’ head. Another kiss led him down to the neck, and he planted two for good luck.

A soft giggle escaped his boss’ lips.

Yes, there was one perk King Dice liked to exploit the most.

The Devil was ticklish.

He could feel his lips curl into a smirk. “Something wrong, boss?” He asked innocently, planting another kiss against the neck.

The Devil bit his lower lip, trying to suppress a smile. “N-no,” he stuttered, squirming slightly in his seat.

“Are you sure? Because you seem a little squirmy…” Another kiss was planted. Then another. And another.

“St-stohop it, Dice!” The Devil snapped. “You know whahat you’re doing!”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Yet another gentle peck. “I’m just showing how much I love you…”

Despite himself, the Devil covered his face with his hands, not wanting his right hand man to see him blush. “I-ihit tickles…”

Bingo.

“It tickles?” King Dice repeated in mock surprise. “I didn’t know the Devil himself was ticklish...how adorable~!”

“Dihice, stop!” The Devil could feel fingers trailing slowly down his shoulders, and it was making him antsy. His toes curled in anticipation.

“Dice? There’s no Dice here…” His fingers suddenly dipped into the underarms, scribbling about like wild spiders. “There’s only the Tickle Monster~”

Almost instantaneously, the Devil broke into laughter. His arms clamped against his sides, but it did him no good. “Nohohohohoo!”

“Ah yes, this is one of the Tickle Monster’s favorite meals...do you wanna know a secret?” King Dice asked innocently.

The Devil shook his head quickly, knowing what would come next.

King Dice ignored it, leaning in closer. “The Tickle Monster just can’t get enough of you,” he whispered into his boss’ ear. “He wants to see you laugh, and transform into a wiggly worm. He wants to hear you squeal as he nuzzles your belly, because you’re just too tickle, tickle, ticklish to take it. Does that word make you shy? It makes you get those butterflies in your belly, doesn’t it? It makes you plead and beg for mercy, even when I’m barely touching you. Maybe he might just have to go for those toes of yours as well...after all, you’re the Tickle Monster’s favorite snack~” He chuckled darkly.

Already, the Devil was almost broken. King Dice’s breath was enough to keep him giggling, and those words...verbal teasing was always a vice of his. Sure enough, he could feel those familiar butterflies flying inside his stomach. He tried to think of something to say, but all that came out were helpless giggles.

“Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” King Dice began scuttling his fingertips down the fuzzy sides. “Tiptoe, tiptoe, down we go...hm, where am I going to go?” He turned towards his boss. “Do you know?”

“N-nohohohohoho!” The Devil tittered nervously.

“I think it’s gonna be...your cute, wittle tummy~!” And with that, King Dice’s hands jumped onto the fluffy stomach, wiggling and worming their way through all that fur.

The Devil squealed, throwing his head back with uncontrollable laughter. “D-Dihihihihihice! Thahahahat tihihihihihiiicklehehehes!”

“Oh, does it tickle? Is it too much for my ticklish wittle kitty~?” King Dice cooed sympathetically. “I’ll bet you really are sensitive, huh? Look at you, already almost to tears!” He shook his head good naturedly. “That’s my baby…”

The Devil quickly covered up his face again. Damn it, he hadn’t meant to tear up! He was the Devil, for crying out loud, he shouldn’t be brought to tears from a little tickling! It took him a while to notice the sensations had stopped, and it had grown quiet in the room. Tentatively, he peered out from between his fingers.

“Peekaboo,” King Dice cooed from his place in front of the Devil. “I see you~” Without so much as another breath, he leaned in to blow a raspberry against the already quivering stomach.

The Devil positively shrieked, laughing harder than ever before. His fists pounded against the armrests of the seat, and tears of mirth began to trickle down his cheeks. “EEEEEheheheheeeeeee!”

“What’s the matter, boss? Got a bit of a tender tummy~?” King Dice hummed, and nuzzled his face into the Devil’s stomach (which caused a soft squeal). “Who’s ticklish~? Who is it~?”

“Mehehehehee!” The Devil blurted out before he could stop himself. “Meheheheheee!”

King Dice grinned wickedly. “And what are you~?” He cooed, pushing it further.

“Yohohohohour tihihihihicklihihihish kihihihihitty!”

“That’s right!” King Dice exclaimed, his heart melted by the adorable reactions. “Do you know what happens next?”

The Devil shook his head, giggling from anticipation alone.

“I’m going to eat you!”

The Devil braced himself for nibbling...and instead received a flurry of ticklish kisses. He squealed in shock, absolutely melting under the other’s touch.

“Mwah, mwah~!” King Dice cooed with every smooch. “Mmm, what a yummy tummy~! It looks like you like the kisses, don’t you~? Are those pesky butterflies coming back~?”

“Y-yeheheheheheheeesss!” The Devil nodded his head.

King Dice clicked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk...now, we can’t have that, can we? It looks like I’ll have to shoo those things away.” His method of “shooing” turned out to be rapid kisses on a certain spot of the belly.

“Nohohohohooo!” The Devil whined. “N-nahahahahat thehehehere!”

“Not where? Not here~?” King Dice swirled his gloved fingertips through the lush fur.

“Stahahahahahaaaap!”

“Oh, dear…” King Dice chuckled sympathetically. “You’re just too ticklish for your own good, huh?” One of his hands reached down to grab a swinging ankle. “Maybe I’ll give that tum-tum a break…”

The Devil’s eyes practically bulged out of his skull. “NO! Nohoho, please!” He begged, trying to tug his foot out of the firm grasp. “Ihi can’t tahake anymohore!”

“Aw, and I’m not even touching you~” King Dice wiggled his fingers teasingly close to the sole, laughing himself at the reactions it caused.

“Yeah, but you’re gohoing to, and it’s gonna tihickle!” The Devil was wiggling in anticipation, his smile threatening to split his cheeks in two.

“Well, you got that right…” King Dice’s fingers descended, madly wiggling against the sensitive area.

The Devil shrieked, and began thrashing about in his throne, laughter pitching embarrassingly high.

“Kitchy, kitchy, coo, the Tickle Monster’s got you~” King Dice crooned teasingly. “You’re too cute...are these piggies ticklish?”

“NooHAAAhahahahaahoooo!” Any protest was wiped away by the feeling of five devious fingers lacing between his toes.

“You’re just a tiny, ticklish, helpless kitten, aren’t ‘cha boss?” King Dice wiggled his fingers in their spots, resulting in a glass shattering squeal. “You just wanna be tickled, and tickled, and tickled, huh? You must, considering you leave all your sweet spots painfully exposed...well, the Tickle Monster is happy to fulfill you wishes~”

“D-Dihihihihiiiceeeyyyyy!” The Devil shrieked madly. “Plehehehe - baaaaaahhh!”

King Dice blinked; that was a new one. “My, my, you’re being very verbal today, huh?” He teased. “I like it...what if I didn’t let you go? What if I just kept on tickling you? What if I just kept on going until you were begging for mercy? That would be scary, wouldn’t it? Me tickling you until you’ve laughed yourself silly? No matter how much you pleaded, begged, or cried, you couldn’t get me to stop...you probably wouldn’t be able to take it, would you?” He chuckled darkly, fluttering his fingers. “Laugh for me, kitty~”

And the Devil complied. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until his fur was completely matted from all his tears. He was at his wits end, and his chest burned with the need to breathe. “M-mehehehercy! Meheheher - baaaahhh! Mehercyhy, plehehease!” He begged desperately, bleats coming out more and more frequently. “Ihihihi cahahan’t - baaaahhh! Cahan’t tahahake ihihit! Plehehease Dihihicehey, stahahahap!”

Now, King Dice was a very evil Tickle Monster, but he wasn’t completely heartless. He saw the Devil was at his breaking point, and he stopped. “Alright, alright, the Tickle Monster has had his fill…”

The Devil collapsed in his seat, completely undone. He was still giggling, and brought his legs to his chest.

“Aw, boss…” King Dice smiled sweetly, and picked the giggling figure up. “There, there, no more tickles,” he reassured, wiping away the remaining tears.

The Devil’s giggles slowly trickled away, and he looked up at the other man with a (rather adorable) pout. “Th-thahat was mean, Dicey…”

“I know, I’m sorry…” He planted a kiss on his boss’ forehead. “Can you ever forgive me?”

The Devil appeared to ponder this for a moment. “...Okay. But I get to tickle you later!” His usual wicked grin had returned.

Sweat formed at King Dice’s brow. “Uhuh...if that’s what it takes…”

He often found the revenge was worth it.

#fanfiction #cuphead in don't deal with the devil #king dice #the devil cuphead #snake eyes #tickling #tickle #ticklish #tickles #tickled #my stuff

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