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neteyamsilly · 2 years ago

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 4

summary ;; A father protects, that's what gives him meaning. Jake Sully has failed. PART 3 | PART 5 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTES. I explicitly said in the previous chapter I would NO LONGER BE TAKING TAG REQUESTS. You're just going to have to check my profile every now and then. I also will not be re-tagging the peeps I did in the last chapter’s replies, it’s just a lot 😭 I'm sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding! Now I present you, the long awaited angst and groveling of Jake. Enjoy! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and support, I hope the angst hits the way you wanted it / was expecting HHHHH

It’ll shine better, Jake mused to himself, rotating the lumpy amber around in his fingers to better reflect the sunlight streaming in thin rays from the hands of the dense flora above, once I dip this in that polish oil. It’s not entirely unsalvageable.

At least he hadn’t scraped too much in attempts to give it a rounder shape, the bug at its core you were gushing about to the point of waking him up at zero dark thirty was still intact. He had been summoned from his dreams to look at a cool rock.

Jake couldn’t not gift it to you as something to be permanently worn after that.

The problem? He was ass at this. Always had been. No drop of craftsmanship in his bloodstream at all when the Na’vi were particularly fond of their ornaments and accessories, making it themselves, in fact.

Songcords were put together from beads, bones and stones, virtuosity was a must intrinsically woven into everyday life, methodized and irreplaceable since it wasn’t as if mass production could ever be a thing in Pandora. Everything was handmade.

Jake’s worst enemy beadwork was in their clothing, for example, even in braids — his maladroit at it may or may not be why he wore his hair in plain dreads now.

He wasn’t an artist or a creator, his hands were more comfortable being fit around a gun or a knife than slipping effortlessly in the rhythm of weaving or the act of making. All his end results were dreadful enough to be bullied relentlessly by his kids — except for you, that is. You absolutely loved them for reasons your mother or none of your siblings could understand.

Jake’s blundering conscience would melt at the sight of your eyes shining and the biggest smile almost splitting your head in half as if he had just handed you the world every single time he gifted you the newest of his clunky handiwork. He didn’t know why that made you the happiest. You’d been that way ever since you saw him carving and personally adding a bead to his songcord about how he got his firstborn daughter to utter her first word: dada.

It was important to him, so, down it had gone into Jake’s life story; putting official significance to the moment he never wanted to forget in the same thread that carried the story of him becoming Toruk Makto, just beside Neteyam’s first word, which was also dadada. (Neytiri had Lo’ak’s mam, and Kiri’s perfectly articulated mommy.)

Ever since that day, you had made grabby hands at the bead all the time when he picked you up, teethed at it like a puppy trying to grab a toy, tried to rip it off to make it yours — anything, until Neytiri made you one, but no, you wanted it from dada.

So dada started making you little trinkets.

He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing you never grew out of receiving gifts from your dad he himself cringed at. Jake wasn’t one to complain, not when someone in this life would feel such enough joy to purify thousands of blighted souls upon receiving his ugly personal work. It made him happy, stroked his ego to high heavens that his sweetheart was doting on dada to see the imperfect as the most fascinating.

That’s why he had taken on the daunting task of making a bead for you out of the amber you’d fixated on, rasp in one hand, sitting on a thick log that cut into the little stream he and his family were spending leisurely time that day, one leg pulled to himself and one feet in the water up to his ankle. Even though he had half an ear on his four children playing around in the shallow water of the creek, all the screams and squeals of joy felt weak compared to the contained huff of amusement that escaped from his mate who had come up to Jake while he was way too engrossed in his task.

His eyes shifted to Neytiri, watching her hop on to the log in one agile move. “Don’t laugh.”

“I am not laughing,” Neytiri said, crouching to sit, her mouth twitched upwards as she looked at the amber in his hand.

“I have eyes, Neytiri, I literally see you laughing.” His face used to burn at her openly teasing about beadmaking, but his oldest daughter’s attentions had restored his bruised confidence over the years. The slander wasn’t taken lightly these days as Jake had proudly relabeled the odd shapes of his work as a creative choice. “Right to my face.”

“You’re mistaken.”

Jake made his jaw drop, overacting his bafflement. “Wow, gaslighting? Really?”

Neytiri hit his arm lightly. In her terms, it was light, at least. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s something you shouldn’t do to your mate.” He turned his back to her, giving a look over his shoulder. “You’re abusing me. I’m being abused.”

“Baby.”

“No amount of pet names are gonna fix my broken heart.”

“No. You are a baby. I’m insulting you.” Neytiri hadn’t even laughed, but the uplifted timbre of that sentence sure did make Jake snicker in disbelief. “If you can’t take it, maybe you should leave beading to me.”

“I would say they are fashionably off,” he defended. You carried them with delight, so why shouldn’t Jake take more pride in his work? “And you said practice makes perfect years ago, I remember the exact words—”

“Years ago. You still haven’t gotten any better at it.” Neytiri was his biggest supporter and criticizer at the same time. “And you became a part of the clan back in the day in three months Jake. Never a more unbelievable thing to me than this.”

“I’m trying alright?” He turned back to the bead, or, vaguely bead-shaped amber, if technical terms were involved. It still had a whole adventure to embark on until it could receive the noble title of a bead. “She likes what I make, at least.”

“It’s because she’s your daughter and anything you do is out of this world. Beauty in the most unlikely places. A child’s love is pure that way.” The unexpected hypnotism of poetry in that sentence alone pulled Jake’s gaze to Neytiri’s, and for a moment, he could physically feel his heart within his ribcage being squeezed, tethering on painful, but with a joyful tinge. “She doesn’t have standards yet.”

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

“Damm!” A pair of small and branch-thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and something, or rather, someone, latched onto his back. “Rahh!”

Jake should have been suspicious of how silent it had gotten halfway into his talk with Neytiri. Turns out, you had swam underneath the log to get out of his line of sight, climbing with the stealth of a bug to come up undetected.

Well, mark Jake down as impressed, you weren’t able to do that without being spotted until today, this was another wonderful milestone for you — you had learned impressively, taking advantage of his distraction, avoiding making noise and using water to your advantage. Neytiri must have given you some pointers.

And now he was wondering if his mate was in on this all along, purposefully disturbing his peace so their kids could see an opening to pounce on him.

“Oof!” Your hold on him was something he could break out of any minute with how adorably strong you were exerting yourself to make it, but he wanted to play along more than anything. Jake was acting panicked, swinging his body left and right from the waist, but really, it was just a light warm-up exercise with the easiest deadlift possible. “I’m being ambushed!”

“I got you now, Toruk Makto!” You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he felt like this was just a piggyback ride with extra steps. “Watch this, mom!”

Oh, it’s on.

Discreetly handing Neytiri the amber, Jake stood up, bringing you up with him and fighting a smile at your clipped squeak as the height became too much too quick, causing you to cling onto him stronger. He reached behind, and within seconds, he had you in his hands, holding you from the armpits and dangling you above the stream, your kicking legs beating the air, and he cackled like a villain threatening to fling the hero from atop of a skyscraper.

“You got me? Please.” He loosened his grip the slightest amount to give you the illusion he would let go, and you stopped struggling to scream, catching his forearms. “A measly thing like you? Conquering me? I’ll show you why I’m the king of the skies! Here I come!”

Making sure you wouldn’t get hurt, Jake threw you into the water as gently as possible, but made the angle entertaining enough so you would go flying. He wasn’t sure who’d screeched the highest, your three siblings who had you spearheading this little operation with full trust in your capabilities, or you reacting like you were falling down from an ikran midair. Either way, he was enjoying bullying his kid a bit too much.

Emerging from the stream and shaking the water off too akin to a wet dog, your first action was to shield your siblings, open arms and whole body and all. “Nete, run! Protect Lovak and Kiri, I’ll save you!”

Jake’s evil smile looming on his kids wavered at that.

You had problems with some letters even at the big age of eight, two vowels next to each other in one word was one of them, along with the confusion of “f” and “b”, and sometimes “p” — it made for hilarious misunderstandings Jake had to fight to be a parent about instead of busting a lung from laughing.

One of the many unforgettable events was deemed “The Fish Incident” between Jake, Max and Norm. He had been recording Neteyam’s first catch on his own to add it to the cute memory pile he and his mate would watch in the future after all their children eventually moved out to pursue their paths. You happened to be present that time, watching intently as your big brother shot a particularly giant yellow fish, eagerly jumping down to the pond to get it and showing it to the camera with a shy, yet proud grin on his face.

“Good job, boy!” Jake had cheered. “Say I got that fish!”

Out of the camera’s frame and making little jumps on your toes, you’d blithely yelled. “Yeah, you got that bish!”

The rest of the footage was shaky and out of focus, the microphone hadn’t picked up any sound but Jake’s uncontrollable laughter, kicked off by an exploding snort of shock.

You and Neteyam had no idea why, but after he’d stopped recording with tears streaming down his face, wheezing because he couldn’t stop laughing, you’d joined to laugh and play with him regardless, mirroring his excitement.

Later though, Jake had to actively make it so you wouldn’t have to say the words kitchen and pitch (and obviously, fish) out loud, at least, in front of Neytiri. He didn’t want to abstain from having a little fun himself, so under no circumstance was she allowed to find out and correct you. And he had it going strong for a while until it slipped when he was talking about a scientist friend over at Hell’s Gate called Richard and you repeated it as “Bitchard”. The word had somehow weaseled into your English lexicon as well, and Neytiri wasn’t illiterate enough to be oblivious to what you’d merrily blurted.

Good old days. Jake sometimes missed hearing you curse innocently. Neytiri had to take that source of joy away from him. Discouragement and warnings would be given to his kids if they knowingly cussed, of course, Kiri calling Lo’ak penis face was something he’d immediately shot down, but this was harmless, he thought. He could have let you be blissfully unaware until the day you learned the meaning of the words, or gain consciousness of the articulation errors as you grew up and naturally fix it yourself. It was only a natural part of a child’s growth.

But he had other entertainment. The obligatory consonant you had to sometimes add to two different neighboring vowels if it was too difficult for you to pronounce, for example. Your little brother was a victim to this. Thankfully, Lo’ak wasn’t bothered to be called Lovak by his older sister, somehow thinking of it as a nickname, but Jake could bet his ass the boy would use this as infinite ammo against you once both of you were older. He would of course forget how you always protected him in play fighting like right now, of course, maybe you would remember enough to accuse him of ungratefulness, and perhaps Lo’ak would declare he didn’t recall anything such as that.

How bittersweet of a thing it was to drift into imaginations of how his kids would be like when they grew up. Like the stinging ache Jake always got when he was confronted with the sadness of losing his children forever one day — the need to put every minute with them in a bottle, and the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the same old melancholy each time: when it first dawned on Jake that you’d successfully sneaked up on him just now, when Neteyam had captured his first fish all on his own without assistance, when Lo’ak showed him the knife he had successfully carved by himself to get his approval, and when Kiri had tended to a scratch wound of his better than her grandmother did with precocious wisdom on her face.

Jake was making every moment count. Just like this one.

“Nobody is safe from me, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house in!” He jumped down from the log with the grace and intimidation of a leopard who had been disturbed while eating up the tree he’d dragged his meal on, splashing water everywhere. “What will you do, o’ mighty hunter?”

You loved being called mighty hunter by him, he saw the sparkle in your eyes.

“Noooo!” Kiri cried, pulling on both Lo’ak and Neteyam’s arms huddled behind you. “He’ll get us!”

Your thought process, completely spooked by Jake, was painfully visible. But surprisingly, you yelled, “Scatter!” with the experience of a rave addict who would take a forty and smash it on the ground as the police closed in on the party grounds. And his kids ran in different directions, like a group of cockroaches when someone approached them, they all ran in different directions.

Sloshing water all around to make it more terrifying, he got Kiri first, hauled her right over his shoulder when she made for Neytiri, thinking her mother could protect her, but no. Jake was inevitable. Lo’ak gave him a weak challenge trying to step around him, getting Jake to confuse his steps as if they were playing basketball, but this was his dad he was facing and not Spider, these tricks didn’t work on veterans, so now he was flush to Jake’s side, tail facing forward, carried like some strapless bag, it didn’t even put any strain on the man’s bicep. Neteyam was the last, hiding beneath the water level and holding his breath, but the little nose peeking out for air gave him away, and Jake had him up the other shoulder in seconds, the boy didn’t have enough time to run away even though he’d spied from underwater that Jake was coming for him.

Three out of four. That left only his eldest daughter.

You were nowhere to be seen. The delighted and struggling giggle-cries of the three kids in his arms and shoulders didn’t help at all to Jake taking his surroundings in with a keen ear, all senses attuned to spotting the stray.

A rustle from above.

“Attack him!”

He didn’t have enough time to see just which branch of the trees cocooning the creek you had climbed on before all three in his arms turned on him, flailing around together in unison to get Jake to fall down and kneel, and it surprisingly worked, he couldn’t even recover between the blink of a time between them getting off the way and you jumping down on him. The height at which you did that knocked all air off his ribcage for a second as he tried to retain balance, and you took that chance to sit on his shoulders, your legs dangling from each one, grabbing onto two dreads on his head as if they were the tails of Toruk he once had held onto like leashes.

Jake had to give this one to you, damn. When had you become a student of the art of strategizing?

But, defeat was defeat. He had to play his part. “This can’t be!” He opened his arms, making it seem cartoonishly like he had been incapacitated. “I’ve been… bested?”

“That’s right!” The cockiness was dripping from you as you pulled on his dreads. “I’m Toruk Makto Makto now. The first of my name!”

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word.

Don’t laugh, he ordered himself. Toruk Makto Makto, what a title, oh Jesus Christ.

“Alright, alright, you got me, mighty hunter.”

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

He was going to have two less dreads on his head if you kept pulling on them like this. “Hell yeah!”

After hearing the declaration, his other children also joined in on the ‘Hell yeah!’ train. Jake supposed he could let this slide for now, you guys were too happy, he wouldn’t sully it.

“You’re gonna rip my hair off, get down now.” You understood play time was over from his tone, and obeyed, hopping down his shoulders when he lowered you into the water, immediately attempting to rush to your siblings’ side to be celebrated, but Jake had something else in mind. “C’mere for a sec.”

He pulled you to the edge of the stream where water met grassy land, dipping his hand into the wet soil under your confused gaze and bringing his fingers up to trace a pattern on your face.

The reaction was instantaneous. You pulled back. “Ew, mud!”

“Hold on,” he gently warned, or rather, encouraged.

You let him continue whatever he was doing then, albeit not losing the laughable concern along the way. “What’s this?”

“Well, you’ve tamed Toruk Makto before an ikran. My mighty hunter should be painted accordingly, no?”

He pointed down and you followed it with your eyes. Seeing your reflection and the ‘V’ shape with a dot on your face in the water, you stopped yourself from touching it with the impulse control that kicked in at the last second, looking up at Jake, jumping up and down, unable to contain the energy, knowing exactly what he did just now. He’d recognized you as a prospective hunter candidate. “Thank you, dad!”

Jake could swear his insides liquidized at that. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Will you paint me like this when I finally get an ikran, too?”

“Of course I will.” He actually wanted to cup your cheeks and plant a little kiss at the adorable flat of your nose but the mud would be ruined, so he pet your braids instead. “As will your mother. It’s what family does.”

At the time, Jake didn’t have the slightest inkling that the paint would end up being your own blood.

Neytiri’s bloody hands — your blood, his child, his child, his baby Jake’s entire day would stop at seeing one tear on her face — had been stroking your face, trying to hold on to you anywhere she could to soothe your flaming pain as you were squirming like a dying animal fighting for the next breath. His heart beating right behind his eyes in a massive pulsating headache, Jake was too desperate fighting his swelling panic with each noise that ripped from you to notice they had left the vague pattern of Iknimaya paint pattern in their wake.

She did.

And her following anguished, gasping shudder as her shaking hands hovered above your contorted face, tracing the air along the lines the blood had left on your face ended up hitting him right in the gut. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let this random twisted sign sweep him into the roaring waterfall of torment, your life was on the line.

Jake didn’t have any coherent memory of running back to the mouth of the cave from the family tent. One moment, he was back with his brain fried from thinking about Quaritch in the aftermath of an hour that had just taken twenty years from his lifespan, avoiding the inquisitive silence of his kids who hadn’t gone back to bed yet; and the other, Neytiri was screaming in the distance with terror worse than the anguish he’d heard her go through upon losing her father and her home. Jake had all but flown there, mind blank in swirling, spasming panic.

Neytiri had told him he had a strong heart the first time they’d met. No fear. Even though Jake was aware he was being disliked strongly, this quality of his she had remarked on, honest to her soul.

But she was wrong.

That fearless fortress heart of his had begun to crumble the moment he learned of Neteyam’s existence. And with each and every new addition to their family, Jake had been rehabilitated on what fear truly was, like a baby learning a language.

Losing. It was all about losing.

He would wake up from terrorizing, choking nightmares with the sensation of his family being violently taken away from him when his children were in his arms, sleeping peacefully all along. He couldn’t stop it. It had spiraled out of control after the sky people came back, turning him into a paranoid, angry man who was ruled by fear. He worried for the safety of his family every day, obsessed over it — beneath the impenetrable iron mask of a leader his whole clan was leaning on, Jake was nothing more than a weak, emotionally crippled father who would lose it the more his children grew up to take reckless actions he made worse by the inability to govern his fear-curbed anger. He called it tough love.

That tough love had resulted in this. Loss. Loss. Loss he had tried his damnedest to prevent. It was blood slipping through his fingers from a wound he had no way of stitching back together.

The more he pushed to block the bullet entrance point, the more you fought Jake, making feral yowls that weakened into animalistic whimpers and throaty whines that all but ripped his heart off muscle by muscle, your hits and scratches didn’t faze him, but the noises. Eywa, the noises. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, I know, I know, I’ll make it go away, please hold on, c’mon.” The droplets of sweat that had formed in the matter of seconds rolled down his face. You had begun to hyperventilate from the accelerating pain because of his efforts. “C’mon sweetheart. Breathe for me, breathe for dad, okay? You gotta breathe. Breathe!”

You were unhearing, lost in the overwhelming, blinding, deafening agony he couldn’t anchor or shield you from. The grunt of desperation that escaped his sore throat rattled his carbon fiber infused bones.

Jake didn’t have time to think. His reason had flown out the mountains to be able to force one single word to form in his mindscape. He just knew he had to stop the bleeding, propelled by concentrated instinct. You were struggling too much for him to have a solid hold on you. Everything, too slippery. Too much blood. Too fucking much. The sickening smell of iron bit at his senses.

(Was it the liver? The spleen? Pancreas? One of the major arteries? But Na’vi biology wasn’t the same as humans. Fuck.)

Then, you were being restrained by a third party, Neytiri was too devastated to make that reasonable decision, and in his peripheral vision, he saw it was Neteyam who had sat down on your legs, restricting your movements with incredible strength. Jake couldn’t even bark at him to go away with how much Neteyam looked in control, a rock he and Neytiri both could draw strength from. Behind him, Lo’ak was a stone statue just standing there, frozen, his eyes not leaving your bloody abdomen.

When you let out a yelp his heart could no longer stand, he yelled, “Bring a stretcher!” to nobody in particular, out of his goddamn mind. Lo’ak jumped at it, coming back to his senses, hesitating what to do for a second before he was off to god knows where. He had to take you to Norm’s, and then a doctor—

A tiny, trembling voice he couldn’t recognize as Neteyam’s reached his ears. “Dad…”

The boy was looking at you, blown eyes shining with unshed tears, upper set of teeth sinking in his shaky bottom lip.

You had gone slack in his arms.

He hadn’t even seen the moment, didn’t stop putting pressure on the wound as the dread assaulted his body. And a biting shiver went down his spine before Jake also looked down on his eldest daughter. Your eyes weren’t closed all the way, halted gaze focused on something to the side, one tear rolling down your temple.

“Don’t do this to me.” Jake couldn’t breathe as he shook his head, he was about to lose it, about to tumble down the edge he could never climb his way up from. In denial, he didn’t lift his hands, losing all strength in his upper body and gradually collapsing forward as his forehead found yours. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, not like this. Please, not like this.”

The last thing you were looking at was the ikran you’d gotten.

Jake didn’t feel that very ikran making its way to their side, flapping its wings, didn’t feel anything to react when a snoot reached down and ever-so-gently nudged you, like you were asleep and it was given the duty to wake you up in the morning that day.

Your ikran nudged you once. Twice. Thrice. Each push was harsher than the other.

You didn’t wake up. Your eyes didn’t get their light back.

A paralyzing numbness took over Jake’s body, all his neuron ends stunted. The moon stopped spinning, time stopped moving, he ceased existing, all at the same time.

A piercing ringing stabbed his ears, took away his hearing. He didn’t hear Neytiri scream louder than the ikran, you were ripped from his arms, and he couldn’t move to do anything about it, just staring into the distance, at nothing, bloodied palms facing upwards in his lap.

It was Neteyam who tried to stop his wailing mother from going mad with grief, trying to get her to set down your body from her crushing embrace even though he couldn’t take his misty eyes off your body. It was Lo’ak, frantic in his run even though his panic-frozen face gave away nothing, who had rushed back with Mo’at and Kiri. It was Tuk who had thrown herself into his arms for a hug Jake wasn’t in his body to reciprocate, his seven year old child, in tears, comforting him when Jake, as the adult and the father, should have had his shit together and be the provider of comfort.

Instead, all he could feel was the blood on his hands, one small part in his mind making him focus on that one amber with a bug inside he’d carved for you, years ago, now in your hair.

The tears didn’t come. His world was shattering all around him, but not one tear made it to the surface.

Someone was talking to him, but Jake wasn’t there, experiencing the moment behind a thick veil of silencing glass.

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

He looked at the source of the muffled sound breaching the ringing in his ears, painfully empty and unfeeling. It was Mo’at. In her hand, a woodsprite gently floated in the air and landed before it repeated the motion again. It was as if his brains had been emptied from his skull. He didn’t understand. He didn’t see. Tuk was clinging to him, Neytiri doubled down in waves of cries in Neteyam’s arms. Jake wasn’t there.

“Open her mouth so I can keep her spirit here longer,” Mo’at said. “Do it now. We do not have much time.”

And Jake could breathe again, his soul slinged back into his body, feeling returning to the tips of his fingers, kicking into action.

He cradled your body from the cold ground you were lying on, bringing his shaky hand to your tightly shut jaw. Your body couldn’t have been experiencing rigor mortis, so you must have been clenching your teeth to the point of your jaw locking to fight the pain, and he was nearly blinded from the sheer strength with which he had to hold back from hugging you. But he eventually opened your jaw with a sickening pop that made him visibly grimace, and Mo’at guided the woodsprite to slip inside the cavity of your mouth.

The bioluminescent dots on your body began to flicker the moment your mouth was closed again. Jake gave a shuddering breath at the sign of life, hands unsure if he should continue to cover the wound again.

“Eywa has allowed her to remain. For a while.”

“Oh Great Mother, thank you!” Neytiri took one of your hands, pressing it against her cheek and kissing it over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Bring her to my tent,” the Tsahik simply stated, and Jake didn’t even stop to consider how he should be taking you to the science guys, how they were probably going to say you needed a blood transfusion and surgery right after they got the necessary tests such as MRI and blood analysis out of the way. Kiri, sniffling weakly, took the crying Tuk away so Jake could carry you. He couldn’t comfort his girls the way he wanted to, couldn’t attend to Neytiri as their sons consoled her and got consoled in return in a tight hug together; he was on the move, heart about to beat out of his chest.

He took you in his arms and clutched your unconscious and ashen blue body tightly to his chest, your head lolling in the crook of his arm, arriving to Mo’at’s tent faster than she did — and oh, how small you were compared to him, how fragile and vulnerable. The attitude made you appear bigger than you actually were, and Jake was reminded how you were still a child from how light his daughter was, like a fleeting bird. He’d forgotten. It had been forever since he last held you like this that he couldn’t bear to lay you down on the mat. If only he could hide you away within his ribcage, away from the pain and the suffering, forever.

“Everything in this world is borrowed,” she told him, an incense was burned, salves were prepared, tools he had no idea on what they were used were brought out. Plants, herbs. Jake stood there, helpless. “Even this child, Eywa has lent to you. She is borrowed from the bosom of our Great Mother, entrusted to you. Entrusted.” Your freckles were still flickering, and Tsahik’s tone, clipped. “I will converse with her. Ask if she plans to call her daughter back home today.”

Ice washed over Jake. “No, you gotta heal her, Mo’at, I can't lose m—”

“Everything in this world is borrowed. Each breath. Each heartbeat. All children. All gifts from Eywa.” Her eyes bore into him. “I can only ask.”

Neytiri pounced on him as soon as he stumbled out of the tent, beaten and spent despite not having one scratch on his body, upon Kiri’s entrance to assist her grandmother in tending to you.

“Your fault!” He was violently pushed back, only able to take in the woman’s bloodied, wrathful face, tear tracks freshened with saltwater she couldn’t stop shedding. “This is your fault! I told you! I told you to fix this!”

Jake was aware other clan members were watching even if they weren’t out of their homes, he was Olo’eyktan, their leader, his pride would have taken this to their own tent had this been any other debate, but now, he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Bruising his back was the weight of a failed father instead of the ornamental piece of the clan leader, it was unbearable enough. She was right. There was nothing else to be said. His mate was right.

“Mother, please,” Neteyam was right beside them in a flash, holding Neytiri back and shielding his father from her. His sunken eyes found Lo’ak and Tuk crouching at the edge of the tent, huddled together, the youngest having the crying hiccups as her older brother had an arm around her, himself looking traumatized enough.

“Don’t, boy.” Jake put a hand on his stone-hard shoulder, moving him aside. Neteyam took one hard look at Neytiri half-circling his father in long strides, and decided it was best if he took care of his siblings instead even if he wasn’t told outright. He ushered Tuk and Lo’ak up and away, to the other side of the tent where they wouldn’t disturb their parents by staying in the field of vision.

Jake should have been the one to take control, but Neteyam had stepped up for it — he was a kid, too, eldest child or not. What the fuck am I doing?

In his tumultuous sorrow, every piece of the fortress Jake had put together was coming down, every decision re-evaluated, emotion overtaking what he once thought as logic. His fault. His fault. He had ruined his children, all of them. He had thought embracing the iron will of a war chief would allow him to be a strong father figure, but it had only alienated his family.

You had died in his arms.

Jake contained every storm in a box inside his body, Neytiri lived those storms, she was strong that way. He would take it. Her eyes were only seeing red at the moment, the grief and wrath of a wronged mother. “Yeah, it’s my fault,” he told her, something between a whisper and a sigh. His kids deserved to hear it. “I know.”

“She is dying because of you!” Jake couldn’t escape the truth by closing his eyes, but he did anyway, like an automatic body reflex against detecting something would be hitting him. He swallowed, his mouth was drier than a desert, no relief was found in the action. “My daughter! My child! Your child!” She pushed him again, hissing. Jake didn’t do anything to stop it. “All because you told her to go today—everything, everything… All because you didn’t reach out to her. She hid that.” A shiver shook her voice. “That… because of you. You! She thought you would be angry!”

Violent horror seized his heart, ears pinning back on his head, knuckles clenching so light blue they were almost white. “I would… I would never—how could I ever—?”

But it was in character, wasn’t it? Jake always getting angry over worry for his children. Going crazy because they could have gotten hurt. Fear grows into anger, worm eating away the bark of a tree into poisonous snake. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, chest rising and falling in big breaths, there was no air.

“She said you hated her. Over and over again, she said you hated her. Not to call you because you would hate her for it, Jake!”

Bitter guilt and glacial shock rose from his stomach, choking him, his eyes looking at anywhere but Neytiri’s blazing golden eyes, to his children who sat together seemingly away from them but blatantly listening, to the tent flames were barely illuminating the shadows inside. His legs were weak. All that he had been breaching behind a wall to prioritize your safety flooded rancid to his mind.

Jake got angry at you all the time that you’d expected it at your most vulnerable. That he would blame you, reprimand you for his enemy’s actions.

His memories were attacked by all sides. That you had gone off on your own for the Iknimaya everybody should have been there for, he should have painted your face personally for. That you have been hiding the bleeding out from the moment Jake had found you pinned down by the dead body of an avatar, from the moment you’d answered positively to the question of if you were hurt or not, with that rifle he’d thought you didn’t let go because of how the events had shaken you. He opened his mouth, a gaping fish, but no words came out, mute and voiceless.

Hate you? Hate you? Hate his own child he would burn the whole world for?

His child. Suffering in silence when her nature was anything but silent. Afraid of her father when she was the most fearless of his kids when facing him.

You thought you weren’t loved.

“What have you done to our children? What has this family become? What are we if our children are too afraid to come to us in their darkest hours?” Neytiri was snarling, both fury and grief battling inside her, teeth gnashing so hard they could sharpen a knife. “What child does not seek her parents when she is hurt?”

Unseeing, Jake couldn’t stand anymore, staggering towards a particularly large rock and sitting on it, he raised his hands to rub his face but stopped when he saw the blood.

All yours. All his daughter’s who he had failed. Who had died in his arms thinking she was hated because Jake was a shit excuse of a father you couldn’t trust to say you were hurt that you would take the risk of dying so he wouldn’t find out.

His daughter’s blood, on his hands.

He put his elbows to his legs, crossing his wrists to lean his forehead on, yet unable to hide his shaking hands even if he managed to hide his face. Jake couldn’t comprehend any of this, crushed beneath the skyful of burning hot shame and the guilt dwarfing him — tears he couldn’t seem to shed found life in his eyes at him trying to blink away the memory of you clinging to your ikran at the flight home. You had been suffering the whole time and all he could think about was Quaritch when he should have been thinking of you.

“What child would rather hide her injury than let her father know?” It shocked his spine like lightning, and Jake visibly flinched, fists clenching and unclenching. “Explain this to me!”

Shame. Shame. Shame. Jake was about to throw up, rocking back and forth.

He had nothing to say. Nothing could ever excuse this. He couldn’t wash away all your moments from this night, all a cursed film strip haunting his every breath accompanied by thorns that ripped apart his insides.

“If she lives,” Neytiri said, pointing a curled hand at him, slowly, scarily calm, but shaking with mastered rage. If she lives destroyed Jake. “We would be lucky if my mother doesn’t decide to perform Stxel’eveng as Tsahik!”

Jake’s head shot up at the word, his arms dropping altogether and meeting his mate’s tortured stare. As Olo’eyktan, he had to be taught the traditions and ceremonies to the point of talking in his sleep from overlearning — this one was a long lost one the clan hadn’t performed for a long time, as the Omatikayan were faithful and loyal to Eywa and her teachings.

Stxel’eveng was the shortened word for ‘Gifting of a Child’ — an adoption ceremony within Na’vi that didn’t even have the word ‘adopt’ in their vocabulary, simply because it was almost non-existent, most Na’vi didn’t even know the existence of such a tradition. If the parents were unable to care and provide for their child, mistreated on purpose or neglected them to the point of no return, they were to be publicly dishonored by the gifting of said child to another willing family. A knot would be formed between the three, one thread bound around the waist of the mother signifying the womb, one thread fastened to the queue of the father, and the final thread to the wrists of the child as if they were captive. The knot, then, would be severed by Tsahik to symbolize the dissolvement of the familial relations in Eywa’s eyes.

The biggest shame a Na’vi could bring upon their name.

“No,” Jake muttered, his mind going blank yet again. Fuck the shame. Damn his name. He couldn’t lose you. It’s a stone in his throat he can’t swallow, whales on his tongue he can’t speak to save himself.

“Pray to Eywa it doesn’t happen. Because if I was Tsahik, I would do it.” Neytiri turned away from him, pushing the heel of her hands on her damp eyes. “I cannot bear this shame, Jake. I can barely breathe.”

He quivered like a baby leaf caught in a storm, a couple more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Neytiri…”

“I lost my daughter today. She slipped from my fingers. I watched her die.” He lowered his head at her grief, vision swimming. “How am I a mother when I can't feel her pain? How am I worthy of being her mother when I saw my child’s pain and just sat there helpless? Why would the Great Mother ever want to send her back?” She just kept going, not having any mercy on Jake’s soul. “Where was I when she won against her ikran? Where was I when she had her first flight? Where was I to protect her from those demons?”

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning.

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!”

Both of them turned just in time to see their youngest son running away from the back of the tent they’d been hiding, Neteyam following a couple steps before he stopped to look back, probably at his sister.

“I’ll get him,” Jake said, soulless and absentminded. Neytiri didn’t respond, stalking back to Mo’at’s tent, just kneeling in front of the entrance, wrapping her hands and tail around her knees. Tuk turned the corner, scampering towards her and finding refuge in Neytiri immediately wrapping around her protectively.

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate.

But he could get to his children who needed it. Trust, Neytiri had said. Honesty.

Walking up to Neteyam, he put a warm hand behind his rigid back, and felt the taut muscles relax underneath his touch, another wave of shame hitting at the inability to recall just when he had last comforted his boy.

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

Neteyam turned to him, scandalized. “We will stay.”

“Neteyam—”

“Dad—sir, please. I can’t leave my sister.”

That sir was a splash of acid on his already weeping heart.

It dawned on Jake that Neteyam was the one witnessing your moment of death. Death. A surge of nausea shot up from his esophagus, and he didn’t stop himself from hooking an arm around the boy, careful of using his hands not to get blood on the eldest, pulling him into a much awaited embrace. He hadn’t allowed him to be a kid.

“It’s okay, Neteyam,” he croaked. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Neteyam’s arms didn’t wrap around him, unfamiliar to the gesture — crumbling Jake’s already broken heart into dust, but he did shiver, fighting the tremble. He simply said, “I pray so.”

He was still trying to hold it together — for everybody’s sake.

Jake felt the boy’s tears on his skin, and didn’t let him go when he tried to step back to wipe them, letting Neteyam cry silently as much as he wanted. He owed the boy that much, as his father. It was the least he could do.

Jake would stitch this family back together. He had to.

Washing the blood off his hands had taken a while. Jake wasn’t let off easy, cursed by the remaining line of bloodied dirt in his nails.

He found Lo’ak at where it all began. The mouth of the cave where your ikran was disturbing the other ones with restless chittering, reminding Jake of a wolf howling all night at the full moon.

His youngest son was transfixed by the blood staining the ground. Just standing there, looking at it. Jake couldn’t protect him from the sight. Not anymore. He himself could barely stomach it.

“Is sister going to be taken away?” was the first thing he asked Jake, not looking at him still.

Jake didn’t know if he meant death, or Stxel’eveng.

“I pray not,” he told Lo’ak, honest for once.

And like him, the boy wasn’t sentimental or emotional enough to bear his wounds to another, even to a family member, and fell silent. “It has Toruk’s colors,” he said instead, referring to your ikran’s red, orange, yellow and black patterns. Looking at the creature, Jake tried his hardest to stand up straight when he discerned all the blood coating its neck and back from the natural red color disguising it. “I wanted to fly with her.”

Pulling him into a side-hug, “I’m sorry, Lo’ak,” Jake admitted, causing him to finally break the trance he had on the blood. Speechless at his father, proud and strong, admitting he was wrong out loud and that he was being hugged when it wasn’t like his father at all to show them casual physical affection. Jake knew what must be going through his head, he would be thinking the same if his own father had ever taken responsibility for wrongdoings, as well. “It’s my fault you didn’t get to.”

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

“But you will,” he said, determined and full of hope. He had to be. For his children.

“You think so?”

“I pray so,” he quoted Neteyam. “Your sister is stubborn. She will pull through. Don’t lose faith in her.”

Lo’ak’s grip on his forearm was painful.

“That ikran’s lost the half of its tail fins,” the boy sniffled, thickening his voice to hide the tears. “How did it get all the way here?”

It stung in Jake’s chest. The same way you’d hidden that injury. Your ikran was fueled only by the desire to get its rider to safety, it seemed.

It would never fly again.

Jake looked down at Lo’ak, only to be met with him avoiding his look, still concerned with hiding the tears. “Loyalty,” he said. “Devotion. Sometimes you don’t want to lose the things you love no matter what, that desperation gives you enough strength to push through any trial by fire. You would do anything. Anything.”

And sometimes it was fear that did it, but he didn’t mention that to Lo’ak to not put salt on their family’s injury. Jake didn’t want to think about how terrified you must have been, or he would actually go insane. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not making it in the end. He had to keep going. He had to push forward. Be the father this family needed him to be.

“Come on, boy,” he pulled Lo’ak gently. “Let’s go back.”

Your ikran whined at this pitifully. Jake tried not to think. He tried not to imagine what your reaction would be upon learning you would never fly together again, and had to put down this ikran that had been devoted endlessly to you if you wanted to get a new one.

Jake didn’t think. Because if he did, he would actually go insane from the pain.

Mo’at and Kiri emerged from the tent only in the morning, by which the whole family was cocooned in Jake’s embrace for the first time in years before the sky people had come back. They all had scrambled to get up, waiting with bated breath for one syllable of good news as Kiri slipped into Jake’s arms, one wink from falling asleep while standing. He kissed the girl’s head, soothing her, hoping this could be you eventually. He had been praying for it like a madman.

“Eywa has accepted to bestow your daughter back to you, Jakesuli,” was the only answer Mo’at had for them, no word about your physical wellbeing. “But only if she accepts as well.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You must go speak with her. At the Tree of Souls.”

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis@alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily@n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

@thotd-f1 @httpjiikook @nipoxe @fussel9913 @gloryekaterina @nxptury @thesheelfsworld @heyyitsmaiaa @anyasullyyy @rey26 @in-luvais @em-100 @n7cje @kpopslur @holysaladapricothero @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @maviee @grxcisxhy-wp @me-marilm @n39ro-chann

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader

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caineinthecorner · 8 months ago

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Language (The Demon Brothers)

★ Based on my language general hcs. Part 2 is here.

Hi. Today we have the demon brothers language hcs, brought to you by a single dumbass bilingual. :D

I include mentions of bilingual/multilingual MC, but I use the term MC and you interchangeably in the bullet points. It's the same thing who cares (you can also add whatever languages you think fit I am just going off vibes tbh)

★ Lucifer.

Since he was the strongest and highest ranked out of the brothers, his innate abilities were muddled the least.

This is to say that he remembers a lot from his innate knowledge as an angel, and can actually fare incredibly well on his own if you leave him in the human realm.

(the language he preferred back in his angel days was Archaic Latin, which is also Simeon's preferred language)

When Diavolo brought up the idea of the human exchange program he was like "(: ok" and binged human language for like two months straight like a total psychopath

He's like one of those fancy 10+ languages fluent polyglots (how)

Despite his fluency, it is rare to ever see him speak them. He has better things to do and prefers demon tongue.

Or if he does, the Loquar Ad Vos that was applied to you once you arrived in Devildom doesn't allow you to hear it.

You try to swear in your native language around him and oh boy it backfires

That is how you learn he's fluent in everything under the sun (exaggeration)

Frustrated, you grumble that you will learn demon tongue just to one up him

He takes it like a challenge. Enjoy reading a million books on the demonic language and having double the homework for your little joke.

(he gives you hard material to learn on purpose to see you fail. Enjoy hell buckoo. Double hell? Hell²)

You kept misspelling good morning in demon tongue as a demonic death threat and that somehow turned into an inside joke between the two of you.

He has to keep himself from chuckling whenever MC screws up words

Your accent is lovely though. Keep it up

★ Mammon.

Spanish and English.

Ok I actually can't justify myself further than "Mams would absolutely fucking go to Vegas" and the fact that USA has a large Latino population but hear me out

You cannot tell me that he would not watch telenovelas. Like. C'mon.

he has the vibes of a Spanish speaker is what I am saying

he was SO frustrated about having to learn human languages you have no idea

In fact he probably still struggles a bit and that makes him really mad

Why is it so complicated all of the sudden?! It wasn't complicated Before!

He unconsciously associates human languages with the trauma of the fall, and the stress and hurt and turbulent emotions it conveys

So learning new languages besides the two he knows is a touchy subject for him

(but like, he will learn MC's native language despite this. Whining to hell about it, but he will. Everything for MC)

You are actually very lucky that you have Loquar Ad Vos with you, bcs he actually switches from demon tongue to either English or Spanish mid sentence sometimes.

Not that you notice with your crusty translator (Loquar also works for human languages it supports), of course.

"Ayo can you [Spanish phrase], oh and give me a [English word], for a [spanglish nonsense]" <- Mammon's dumbass not functioning in trilingual

Also he has an accent but he's trying

The others are used to it so they don't question it anymore, but they deadass could not understand Mammon at some point because trilingual was not computing

It was frustrating to say the least

You two play charades with each other when the other forgets a word in your respective languages

"MC WHAT'S THE NAME OF THE ANIMAL FUCK THAT CHANGES HOME" "... Hermit crab?" "THATS THE BITCH"

★ Leviathan.

Japanese (very decent) and English (bad) are musts.

You cannot tell me for a second this fuck watches anime subbed OR dubbed. He's too weeb for that. He will watch the original dub version for the full emotional impact

He wanted to know what happens in the weeb world of the west (and internet discourse), so he learned English through shitty 2000s anime forums and Duolingo

Probably plays Duolingo competitively and/or cries if he loses his streak

His hearing and speaking English is okay, his writing is literally so so shit

Tried to learn a romantic language to be corny but failed miserably.

(He steered clear of languages his brothers know so he isn't self conscious)

It was probably Portuguese or something since Mammon kept talking about being good at figuring it out as a Spanish speaker (due to it being a romantic language)

The diacritical marks killed him on the spot

Meu português não é bom... (crying)

Victim of the you're* corrections

Runs his several-paragraphs-long rants about weeb stuff through Satan so the grammar is legit

Actually thinking about it would be absolutely fucking hilarious if he knew russian just for funsies. Yeah add Russian to the list

He sends you crusty Russian memes at unholy hours in the morning. Calls that bonding

Would absolutely swear in loud ass Russian while playing Valorant or smt

"ПИЗДЕЦ" "LEVI IT'S 2AM SHUT THE FUCK UP"

Ah + he knows Morse code (obviously). He was really excited when he discovered it and proceeded to obsess over it for like three weeks straight.

Although by the time he learned about it humans had already moved on from its wide-spead use at sea (post-1999), the Devildom Navy adapted Morse code for their own use as per Levi's command.

He teaches MC how to use Morse code (bashfully) and they send lil' messages to each other for fun

★ Satan.

He inherited a good chunk of Lucifer’s angel-knows-all-languages innate talents.

He doesn't have the angel knowledge of every language, of course, but he definitely has a really high count since birth; Unlike his brothers who had to relearn their languages of interest.

However, he can tell™ that the topic of languages is kinda taboo-y, as it signifies the traumatic fall he himself was not there to witness, and kept quiet about it.

The others (mostly) think he just learned languages in his free time.

He is the designated google translate person. When the other brothers need translations, they ask him.

He gets very frustrated when he has to translate something on the spot

Absolutely knows Chinese and Latin just to read fancy old human books and be a menace about it

He has a copy of the Art Of War in Chinese I will fight you on that

Actually he probably owns every important human book in its native language

Culprit of the you're* corrections

If he has to read another thesis-length essay abt weeb shit by leviathan he will actually lose his shit

You know the Voynich manuscript? He's probably trying to decode it for funsies.

If you and him (unfortunately) share a language, he will absolutely correct the living shit out of you when you speak it

Look me in the eyes and tell me he wouldn't "erm ACtuAllY" MC. You can't.

His ass does not understand slang. At all. You tell him See You Later Alligator and he'll be like "tf you smoking ಠಿ⁠_⁠ಠ?"

★ Asmodeus.

French. And Korean. Maybe very mid English.

Ok so french is the language of lOVe and whatever + Korea is known for their heavy beauty-focused culture

I can see Asmo definitely picking up Korean just for makeup and self care brands purposes.

Like it is easier to browse for products he wants if he can actually browse the original places/websites himself

It's just more convenient and he's actually very good at language learning

+ Korean it is a "cutesy" language so it fits his vibe.

Like he absolutely would go "안녕 teehee (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)" to look disarming is what I am saying

He flirts to hell with Solomon in French. It is a language they both know and isn't supported by Loquar for translation so nobody can snoop their conversations

If you have the misfortune of knowing French I am so sorry for you bcs they are NASTY

Solomon is teaching him English. Asmo fakes being bad at it on purpose

★ Beelzebub.

He knows a decent amount of English.

What does he use it for? Order food. Obviously.

In fact everyone kinda assumes he just knows a few food orders and that's it but no he's actually very decent at English (borderline fluent)

He learned through clunky conversation with small restaurant owners

Beel actually makes a great effort to enunciate every word clearly, so he doesn't like speaking long sentences

"Would you like Salsa with that, sweetheart?" "... Yes," <- Beel has no fucking clue wtf salsa is but it tastes good so who is he to defy food gods (a nice Mexican grandma with a killer Pozole) whom have blessed him

I also think he would probably know some kind of sign language

Fingerspelling maybe, solely because it allows him to talk while having his mouth full or bcs his games are loud and he can't hear words very well

That and, like, the Devildom equivalent of sign language. DSL or something.

Look at him. Absolute sweetheart. He would absolutely want to include deaf or hard of hearing ppl.

★ Belphegor.

Ok so

I am going to be very fr with you

I believe Belphie would be the only monolingual (demon tongue "native") of the brothers

at most he would remember a few phrases of a few languages from back when he was an angel, but not any specifics

Like this dude has ZERO interest in human culture I cannot think he would sit down to (re)learn anything

he would fall asleep trying to learn human verbs actually

He only knows how to tell you to fuck off on 4 languages (/hj)

None which you speak. So that's kinda awkward

He doesn't know how to cast Loquar (nor has any interest in learning how)

Beel casts it for him if he needs it

He can and will deadass just remove the translator spell from you if you try to annoy/interact with him (except if Beel is who casts it on you).

(so Beel now also casts Loquar for you)

Begone >:(

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me hcs #caineshcs

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smolvenger · 6 months ago

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The Baronet Seeks A Wife, Chapter One.

A Crimson Peak Multi-Part Fanfiction.

Thomas Sharpe x fem! Reader Arranged Marriage AU.

Summary: England in the 1890s. When your spirited sister, Charlotte, defies your family by running away from her arranged engagement to Sir Thomas Sharpe, you are the one who must keep your family from scandal and ruin...by taking her place as the baronet's bride.

Word Count: >7K words. You may want tea and scones as a repast as you read this.

Warnings: Angst, some hurt/comfort, and fluff at the end. I attempt to convey the period as accurately as I can bc if you don't like it or find it interesting why write it. Period accurate attitudes of gender and social class. Mentions and discussions of sex, but no smut (yet...let me just say...after Bridgerton season 3 episode four...I have *ideas* heheheheh). Brief mention of childbirth. The fear of domestic violence is mentioned, but not portrayed. Grammar and spelling mistakes. If I miss something and you see something that could be triggering that I didn't mention, then it is your responsibility to please please please tell me. I will take full accountability for how I portray marginalized groups and sensitive subject matter and make sure to better my writing and make sure affected parties are protected.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @jijilaufeyson @steasstuff @anukulee @kimi01985 @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @giona45-5 @goddessgirl43

London, 1898.

“I won’t marry him!” your sister cried.

You have seen this scene plenty of times. You could recount it like a play production you had seen too much. You were sitting in the parlor, trying to read a book and rest your feet. But your mother and your older sister, Lottie, were on each other’s last nerves.

‘Lottie, you have to!” your mother insisted.

You found you couldn’t focus on the words. You only sat there in stillness, watching in silence. A maid walked by the door, her eyes flicking over to the scene, but then she kept walking down the hallway.

Your mother pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed as if in pain.

Your older sister, Charlotte, was curling her fists on her side. The red dress, the new one father ordered for her at the shop, only made her seem angrier. She was literally burning with the fire of fury.

Mama let out a huff. Then she glared at Charlotte, her arms akimbo.

“Listen to me. Right. Now.” your mother began.

You felt bad for your mother. There was a lot on her mind. To have both daughters out in society at one time. They agreed it wasn’t fair for one daughter to go about having fun when the other couldn’t. Charlotte was older, so she was more experienced in being out in society. She made her debut it seemed ages ago. You recalled your own debut. You had your turn to wear white and curtsy before the queen before she dismissed you for the next girl. You were already beaming with excitement. Ready to enter the glittering, grown-up world of the London social season. Prepared to dine and dance in pretty dresses every April until August.

But every year, it seemed the bags under Charlotte’s eyes increased. Now years had passed since then. And mam still had two daughters who were still out. And unmarried.

Charlotte dreaded going from your country home to London for the warmer months.She hated the constant balls, parties, meals, picnics. She at least liked riding her horse in Hyde Park but loathed she couldn’t go faster. She would sneak out to smoke cigars. Bugs and reptiles fascinated her more than gossip. She scribbled down notes. She turned prickly if any man asked for a dance. She spoke boldly and even swore. She enjoyed the horse races and polo games and sports, but the art of feminine flirting was beyond her.

But your parents had plenty of money and two daughters. But only so much money could support so many seasons. And as the eldest, the pressure was on Charlotte. There was the occasional brave soul who proposed marriage to her. Only to face the inevitable, flat rejection.

So Mama and Papa took matters into their own hands.

Mama met enough people who networked her to cross paths with a single baronet. They porposed a marriage between him and Charlotte, to which he agreed. Your sister was engaged after a mere three meetings with the fellow. Not that you had a chance to meet him either. So no rejection. No proposal. A ring on Lottie’s finger forcibly placed on her like a child force-fed turnips to her mouth.

“Lottie, do you know how much that dress costs? The very one on your back? Every season, your father and I make sure you and your sister have new gowns so you may be presentable in public. That is what they demand- that eligible ladies always dress in fresh new clothes. So any gentleman will not scoff at you wearing yesterday’s rag. You may not like it- but this is for your future. For your family’s future. May I remind you- You are the eldest. You must make a good match not only for your sake- but your sister’s future. If you marry well-then she will be set up to succeed. There are plenty of decent men with more than enough money to make you comfortable here. Every year, they ask to dance with you. Every year, at least one proposes. And every year, you say no. ”

Charlotte huffed, folding her arms.

‘I didn’t want to marry them. Any of them. I wouldn’t make them happy and they wound’t make me happy at all.”

Your mother glared down.

“You have had more than enough chances to secure yourself forever. Do you want to live at the mercy of your father’s charity all of your days? If he cut you off this minute and threw you out of the house, you would have nowhere to go, and no way to survive. Lottie, do you realize how many seasons you have had? Do you realize how much we must pay more and more for you both to be presentable when you are out? Do you realize how much this is costing us and yourself?” she scolded.

She caught her breath. Charlotte was breathing hard, and you could see glimmers of tears in her eyes. Mama stepped closer.

“Charlotte…you’re no figure of pity. Not yet. You have had plenty of chances- they still call you the Wild Rose of London. Your face won over dukes, earls-so many girls would have loved to be in your shoes!” she said softly.

Mama was right. Charlotte was considered the beauty of the family. When she made her debut, heads turned to look at her. Everyone, you included, thought she would make a match easily. After all, your father was in charge of a great business that made a lot of money. You were now part of the upper crust. So a pretty face, a decent family reptutation and a sizable dowry with her bold, vivacious character would have won someone’s heart. And in a way they did. The first man who proposed to Charlotte you thought was going to be like shooting a sitting duck.

Even though “spinsterhood” did nothing to dampen your sister’s face,you were all proven wrong. Very, very wrong.

Lottie slouched as much as she could in her gown and frowned. A habit she never abandoned as a child.

“Your father had to take action. You will be a part of the esteemed Sharpe baronacy and he will reap the monetary benefits. He is a nice man, pleasant, charming, and he will take care of-”

“So am I nothing more than a thing you auction off at a bazaar? Not a person with a heart? With feelings?” Lottie combated.

“We were going to be driven at this rate to ill repute, and financial ruin all because you wouldn’t marry!” your mother argued.

“Then why not let me wear an old dress?” Lottie shot back. “Or have me not do a season! Let me remain a spinster and paddle my own canoe!”

“Sir Sharpe will take care of you. He promised it!” Mama assured.

“Being stuffy old Lady Sharpe and wasting my life in balls and parties is going to drive me to insanity! An arranged marriage- mama, it’s practically medieval!” Lottie shouted.

Your mother folded her hands.

“Your father has set it in stone. There is no point in this conversation. You are going to marry Sir Thomas Sharpe, and that is final!”

Your sister jumped up. She stormed off, slamming the door shut childishly as she huffed off to her room.

Your mother turned to you. You sat in your own blue tea gown, not expecting company. For a night of no events in the London season was a special treat. All of the picnics, lunch parties, park trips, operas, theatre, and balls were fun- but back to back, it was exhausting. But hearing your mother and sister yell at each other was ten times worse than the exhaustion.

You stood up.

“Am I….a bad mother?” she asked. You saw tears in her eyes too.

You put a hand on her shoulder, a fine, matronly gown of dark green brocade. You offered her a handkerchief.

“I only think you are a desperate mother put into a difficult situation.”

“She won’t listen to me. Much less your father…she only listens to you anymore. I hate we must do this…and I hate myself,” she sniffled.

You patted her shoulder.

“Mama, let me speak with her. Let me help patch things up. Make her happy,” you offered.

She nodded. You exited the library, walking up the stairs to Lottie’s bedroom. The odd servant paused in their dusting to curtsy at you. You wold give them a nod and a smile, before you continued. Walking past vases of daffodils and over velvet rugs, you found the door locked shut. Crying coming from inside.

You knocked on the door.

“Go away, papa!” she fussed.

“Lottie, it’s not papa, it’s me!” you assured her.

Your sister went over and opened the door, letting you in and shutting it after you entered. With it’s wine red wallpaper, the place seemed to be dark as the sun was dipping outside. Her desk empty of any papers and her hat set on top. Her colllections of newspapers piled on one chair near her parasol. The drawer where she hid her cigars was kept with a lock and a key she dared not tell even you.

“Lottie…I’m so sorry you have to do this, and how miserable it makes you…it sounds like a nightmare,” you admitted.

You could see tears streaming down her face.

“Do you remember when I was eleven and asked mama and papa for a pet snake? They know how much I love snakes- they’d give me little toy snakes. I wanted a real one. I’d call her Cleopatra for the irony of it. But they said no. Every year I asked and they kept saying no.would always say no. They try….but they can’t love me, or understand me. And I keep trying to please them…and I keep failing and now…they’re throwing…”

She sat on the bed and began to cry. And you hugged her.

“Here….here…” you said. “My poor girl, my poor Lottie!” you cooed.

“I want to go places. Have adventures and jolly, capital times. I want to run, and explore and see things! Not be stuffy old Lady Sharpe in some stupid house having babies until I’m killed from it!” she mourned.

She shoved aside her journal and laid down on her bed. Tears streaming her face.

“It’s what you deserve…Lottie. A life like that! But now, we need to think of what we can do and not what we can’t do,” you suggested.

You paused, thinking for a second. You leaned closer as she turned away. A gentle hand on her side.

“Sir Sharpe…you’ve met him, haven’t you? What is he like?” you asked.

“He talks about his stupid inventions all day,” she muttered from her side. “And he won’t answer anything about what his dead sister was like or what was in that old mansion.”

There were only three things you knew about Sir Sharpe as of this morning. He was a baronet. He grew up in a mansion called Allerdale Hall. He lost an older sister. But that was it. Now thanks to Lottie, the sum rallied up to four.

You leaned closer, more mischief in your voice. You hushed to a whisper.

“What does he even look like? Perhaps he’s at least handsome! Maybe at least…on your wedding night…”

Lottie turned over, wrinkling her nose.

“I’m sorry, YN, but he’s ugly! He has a big forehead, and big ears, and a big old nose!” she cried. Her voice far too loud for the question you asked.

She grabbed her pillow and hugged it around her.

“Don’t get me started on my marital duties. I could retch at the thought of it. If Sir Sharpe even thinks of going to bed with me, I’ll box his big ears off!” she decalred.

Part of you couldn’t help but laugh a little. Even Lottie’s own pretty, pink mouth was curved up in a small smile at her own words.

“Practice on that pillow!” you dared.

She hit the pillow again and again.

“This I’ll give Sir Sharpe and -this! I’ll give Sir Sharpe!”

She reached over and got her parasol and gave it a few more good whacks. Feathers were starting to burst out from it and litter the floor.

“Heavens, at this rate you’d have killed him!” you commented.

“He would have earned it!” she replied.

‘“Then you’ll be a criminal and I’d have to bail you out of prison!” you replied.

“Oh no! Then I guess we must be outlaws and run off and live like Robin Hood and the rest! Better than listening to Mrs. Mean drone on about governesses!”

Both of you burst into laughter. The Means lived up to their name and every reception they found a new group of people to complain about. You both heard it all and had to silently look at each other to promise to only laugh at them when it was done.

You both laughed, smilng bright. How you missed the easy days of your younger years. You could play about and get in and out of trouble. You and your sister knew where to strike to hurt each other, but couldn’t live without the other. You fought as intensely as you played. You did everything side by side. You took her hand and hugged her again, even though she was still sniffling.

Lottie sagged her shoulders. Her hold on the pillow loosening.

“But…I’m unhappy. I wake up every day with this and I’m miserable. Like I can’t get out.” she sighed.

“Think of this….” you reasoned. “I hear husbands are easier to manage and persuade then fathers! Once you have money and you’re not under their thumb, you can go about as you want and do what you want! Idon’t think Sir Sharpe would stop you….”

You paused. A horrified shiver ran through you.

“Not that I…know much about him. Do you think he….did he ever…ever…hurt you?” you asked.

She shook her head.

“No, he hasn’t been less than gentlemanly. And he wouldn’t hurt me in any way after we’re married, I’m sure.” she replied.

You both sat on the bed and held hands.

“Then don’t be afraid, Lottie…maybe marriage isn’t a prison, but your key to freedom! Once you’re a married woman, you can do whatever you want and Sir Sharpe won’t stop you. And if he does anything, tell me. And I’ll box his ears!” you replied.

Lottie’s tears were drying in trails down her cheeks. Yet she smiled in spite of herself. Then you hugged one last time.

“I should ring for some cakes and mint tea from Anne! That will cheer you up!” you said.

As you rang the bell for them. Anne, one of your maids, hurried up. She took the order and promptly left. She returned with a tray in only ten minutes. You both relaxed on chairs as the tray balanced on a mahogany table.

Turning, you saw Lottie write about in her journal.

“Oh, croissants! My favorites,” Lottie cooed. She picked up one and began to dig in.

“I’m just glad you have thing that make you happy…I just want you to be happy, Lottie,” you said.

The pastry returned to her plate.

“And…YN…”

Her mouth opened as if to speak. Then she stopped. She reached over and held your cheek. Studying you carefully, as if you were a piece of art. A work she could only admire in person once before she had to leave. Something she had to commit to memory. There was a sad smile on her face.

There was a sad smile on her face.

“I want you to be happy too…”

She kissed your forehead and you smiled. As she helped herself to a big slice of strawberry cake. Her eyes were tired, crinkly.

“I think Lady Charlotte Sharpe has a ring to it. Like the heroine of a book!” you said.

Charlotte turned to face the window. The sun melting down and the sky promising night.

“But this isn’t a book, this is reality…” she responded.

She looked at you and then at the ring on her finger. The engagement ring already commissioned. Costly and pretty, but useless and ominous on Lottie’s hand.

“I think you would have liked him...” she said.

“Sir Sharpe will be nice to have as a brother,” you replied.

She looked at you. But said nothing as she nibbled on her croissant. As the tray was partially emptied, you excused yourself. But Lottie caught your arm. You saw her lip quiver. She leaned closer, her voice quiet. And Lottie was not a person who liked to be quiet.

“I’ll always remember that your words. That we must do what we can and not dwell on what we can’t. Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for the tea, too.”

By dinner time, she was quiet. She dressed nicely and ate modestly. Then went to bed without a word to you. As you went back up to change for bed. How unlike her! Your sister was chattiest at night! But you but shrugged it off. She was probably just exhausted. London’s balls lasted from night until six in the morning and you would be lying if you said they didn’t take a toll on you too. And you would need some rest if there were to be callers, a garden party, and maybe a horse ride in the park the next day.

❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁

When you awoke the next morning, the sunlight streamed like melten butter into your room. Outside, it was another lovely day in May. People were already tittering about the Ascot opening later this month.

Your maid helped you into your day outfit of a white lace skirt and a blue skirt with flowers patterned with silk. You only hoped Lottie had improved. Before breakfast, you would check.

You knocked on her door.

“Lottie! Good morning!”

No reply.

“The chef is making us bacon! It’s going to be delicious!”

No response.

You beat your fists against the door.

Nothing. And she was a light sleeper.

“Lottie?” you called out louder.

You realized the door was unlocked and opened easily.

She was gone. Servants followed you inside. Her bed wasn’t made, there was no sign of her.

“Is she in the garden? Is she riding in Hyde park this early? ” you asked Anne. But the maid shook her head.

Then, to your shock, you saw there was a piece of paper on it. And a ring. Coming closer, you saw it was her engagement ring.

You felt the world pause as you read her handwriting.

“Hello everyone,

You need not fear, for I am not hurt or seduced by some scoundrel.

I cannot be Sir Sharpe’s wife.

I love all of you. But I cannot do this. This is not what I want for my life.

I shall be safe, do not worry.

But do not try to reach me for some time.

All of my love.

Charlotte Y/L/N.”

Breath knocked out of you. You stood frozen. You hardly heard your parents rushing in. You didn’t feel your father snatching the letter from your hands. Looking down, they were still in the air and shaking.

Your mother began to sob.

All of your plans were canceled. A private detective was hired and Charlotte’s lady’s maid was fired for permitting this. Though the sobbing maid insisted she didn’t know where Charlotte went. All day long, people scurried about in a panic.

You felt tears well up in your own eyes. Alone in your room, it was your turn to burst into crying. It was already as if your dear sister was already dead.

You recalled the letter said she was unharmed. She wasn’t about to be left pregnant with some scoundrel’s bastard. She hadn’t…taken her own life and for her to return only as a corpse. As far as you knew, no news meant she was alive and safe. That would have destroyed you. Taking hope in that, you went back to put on a brave face to your family.

There was the odd caller in the afternoon. But their noses were upturned. Knowing they would report anything and everything. The slight smiles on their faces as they looked about made you want to scream.

Why didn’t Charlotte think about this? The next day, your grief boiled to a silent rage. By running off and vanishing, it meant there was a scandal. And now society would all turn their faces away from you. They would frown and whisper and gossip. The unvirtuous daughter who ran off. And no one would want to go to your parties or dinners. No one would want to see you or associate with you. And no man would ever want to marry you, knowing you were the sister of the runaway spinster of a disgraced family.

That last part pained you. Not that you knew from Charlotte there was shame in being a spinster. But…you hoped to fall in love. Not just to marry a man of stability, to meet a wonderful, nice man who made your heart patter fast. To be kissed and receive valentines and dance and have him drop to his knees, begging for you. Just like in the fictional books you loved.

But the days dragged by. The detective returned after a week and shook his head. And the hope for anything good in your future seemed more and more like a fiction itself.

❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁

You paced about in the gardens one afternoon. It was better to do something with your anxious energy. Two weeks and no sign where Lottie vanished. You sat by, hoping the coolness of the breeze drifting through flowers would calm you. But not even the loveliness of an English June could distract you.

Anne stepped forward and curtsied.

“Pardon me, Miss. But your father wants to have a word with you in private,” she announced.

She led you up, taking you to Papa’s study. It was a room in dark green, his favorite color. A few books lined up the walls and his desk was placed behind the window. Your father was staring outside when he turned around as you were brought in.

“Ah, sit down, my dear,” he requested.

You obeyed. Sitting on the wooden chair before his desk. Your father brought out a decanter of brandy and poured himself some in a little glass. You noticed it was a generous amount. Not that you would blame him.

He poured himself a second glass and offered it to you.

“I have some news with you, Y/N…” he began.

“Have they found her?” you asked with hope.

“No. And that is exactly why I have to tell you this…”

If there was no update, then what could it be? You wondered. You took the cup and held it in your hands. A little hesitant to drink it yet since it was still so bright in the day. It didn’t feel right to drink such a spirit so early to you. Something was brewing- you just had to let him say it.

“The engagement between your sister and Sir Sharpe it was…it is still and shall be beneficial. To us and to the Baronet. We must be respected by all sorts of society through connection to the baronacy. He needed the money- his own little toys wouldn’t be enough to sustain a gentleman’s life. And with Charlotte’s disappearance- you understand why we don’t have as many visitors as we do?”

“It’s a scandal, papa, I know.” you replied.

“But…we must return to society. We cannot show up defeated. We cannot let them beat us. We cannot become a laughingstock or a figure of pity.”

Where was he going with this? You held your tongue and folded your hands. The drink carefully balanced over your lap. He was only repeating everything you already knew.

“There is one way out that solves all our problems. Especially if at this point, Charlotte isn’t to be found…”

“We can’t give up on finding her, on making sure she is safe!” you insisted.

“We have more immediate matters..” he continued.

You raised the glass to your lips, taking only a sip. It burned down your throat onto your churning stomach. Your father looked directly into your eyes.

“ I have one daughter left who is out. But YN, I don’t think there are many gentleman who will want to associate with a ruined family. No gentleman will consider you marriage…But…”

“But?” you prompted.

“But there is one gentleman who doesn’t think so…” he continued.

“Who?” you asked. You put both hands over your cup.

Papa looked directly into your eyes.

“Sir Sharpe.”

Your throat tightened. Part of your vision went dizzy. You began to piece together where this was leading. Nausea gripped your insides as your hold on the glass turned into a grip.

“He knows he needs our money and to be back into society. We still need the respect of his title…and we have a daughter left who must be taken care of…”

You found yourself hyperventilating. Words choked out of you.

“Am I…am I…”

“YN, you are going to marry Sir Sharpe in your sister’s place this coming month.” he announced flatly.

A sound came out of you. You put a hand over your mouth. You now knew what Lottie felt. Your whole body went tight. You had to catch your breath. How glad you were to be sitting, for your legs were already shaking bad and your vision was spinning. You looked down at the floor, trying to pull yourself together. Your father kept talking.

“Now, I know this isn’t pleasant. Especially for a romantic such as yourself. I know you have yet to be formally introduced to him. But, Y/N, my dear- we have to be practical about these matters. There is no respectable solution to this problem at this point, if Charlotte is to not return.”

He was right. As twisted as this was, was there another option?

Who would want to associate with a family who couldn’t keep an eye on their eldest? Who would want to invite a family who let their daughter run away to their breakfast party? Who would want to court the sister of the woman who ran off from her own marriage? Who would want to marry the daughter of disgraced family?

The more you thought about it, the more you realized there were few options. You were now too socially stained to marry anyone. Your days would be spent alone. Sitting in your house as others lived their lives happy and free, laughing at you behind closed doors.

Your family had no other options out.

A marriage to a man who belonged to a knighted family would earn you respect. It would be telling society that at least one man from a respectable house saw worth in you. You would still go to events not as a figure of pity and ridicule, but as one of them- even ranking above them.

You didn’t want to be a figure of ridicule. Someone who everyone would smugly turn. Whispering to each other “how glad I am that I’m not her!”

You had to marry. And marry well.

You would never be proposed to at this point. There would be no courtship. No dances. No poetry. No marriage proposals. No valentines. No love letters. No Passion. No balls. No laughter.

But there was never going to be a proposal like this.

No future. No safety. Nothing if you denied your father or refused him or rebelled as Lottie did.

You would just be tied and tethered to a ruined family all of your days. But becoming Lady Sharpe would free you from that. You could start anew. Spring again like a wild tiger breaking out of its cage to bear her claws.

And this was your only chance.

“Yes, papa. It will be an honor.” you replied. You would do your duty, as all daughters must.

Father walked out from behind, abandoning his drink. He put a hand on your shoulder and then pulled you for a hug.

“There’s my brave girl,” he said.

He released the hug.

“Alright, Sir Sharpe is going to visit at dinner tomorrow. And my associates at work will be there too, to celebrate. That way, you will have a formal introdution and you won’t be walking down the aisle to a complete stranger.”

You felt your fists grab your skirt. With your free hand, you grabbed your cup of brandy and downed it in one gulp. The burning ran through your body, and you prayed it would calm your racing mind.

“Do I need to wear my nicest dress?” you asked. You at least didn’t want Sir Sharpe to think he was settling from the society beauty. Downgraded from the Wild Rose to her frump sister.

“Considering he has already said yes to this arrangement, I doubt wearing your ugliest dress will do anything to about the matter,” replied your father.

❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁

Anne dressed you in a cream dinner dress of country silk and velvet. Your sleeves puffed like clouds. there was lace as a “belt” around your waist. The bottom showed an underskirt that was a color between light brown and pink. Anne had hair like yours, and knew how to style it as you liked. Your dress almost white in the light. Already you were going to meet Thomas looking like a bride.

The grandfather clock in the hall chimed seven o clock. You thought you would sweat through your dress. Part of you was tempted to lock the door and not step a foot out the whole night. But you knew you could not delay the meeting anymore. At this rate, you would just meet him on your wedding day. You just had to get it over with.

Besides, you were going to spend the rest of your life with him until only death or divorce did you part. You were just holding back the inevitable.

“You look beautiful, miss,” she gushed as she looked at you.

“I wish I was as pretty as Lottie, sometimes. Or as brave as her…” you lamented quietly.

“Don’t compare yourself to her, miss. You know she has her own sufferings. And it will only make you more unhappy.” Anne advised, giving you a pearl necklace. She attached it to you from behind.

Both of you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Anne leaned in closer with an encouraging smile. “Just think of all this like armor to a battle, Miss Y/N. You can’t give up the fight, yet.”

I can be brave, like Lottie. I can fight, like she can. You thought. How could you be as stupid as to forget your own advice to her not long ago? You would do your best to find the way to make it a good situation. Manipulate your position and standing to your favor, even. For that was what women always did. For being the “weaker sex”, they always found a way through to survive. So what made you think you would just cry and pity yourself all of your days?

You reminded yourself of this. Still you felt heart racing hard as if the gallows was what awaited you next month and not the altar. Holding your head high, like a queen in her palace, you walked out of your room and downstairs.

A few women had shown up in the foyer. They eyed you greedily but you would not give them a figure to be pitied. You kept a stoic face as they offered a few tepid congratulations. But you felt so buzzed with anxiety, you only half heard.

“We’re so happy you found a husband,” said one.

Husband- husband! A husband! A fiancee! How was it that it happened already? And with no romantic proposal in a moonlit garden away from a ball. Just in an office that smelled of whiskey with your father relaying that you were now engaged. And your husband- no, you weren’t married yet, no need to panic now. Though you saw no men around, you knew that your fiancee was under this roof.

You didn’t feel ready. You felt like you were just an adolescent playing dress up and not a grown adult.

“Ah! There you are, YN!” your father greeted as he walked over, dressed in his evening tuxedo. He offered his arm.

“He’s in the library, sharing a drink with the other men. I think it’s time I introduce you both,” he announced.

Swallowing, you took his arm. The one thing keeping you afloat in the ocean of turmoil raging inside you.

Papa walked you over to the library. Your heart picked up as if you were running. In just a few short seconds, you would see the man you were bound to for the rest of your life. Your mind was itself running at a hundred miles a second and you felt yourself shaking like a leaf.

Father turned to the door and your fears screamed inside of you.

You dreaded what your sister said. Her voice ringing in your ears bemoaning Thomas’s apparent ugliness.

“He has a big forehead and big ears and a big old nose!”

He was ugly. You had to settle for that. But what made you were frightened was that perhaps he was a bad person. Perhaps he would hurt you, betray you, break you even.

Wait…didn’t Lottie say herself he wouldn’t treat her in that way? But…you weren’t Lottie! He could act completely differently…

No…you were forming an entire judgement on someone you hadn’t even met!

But, even if he wasn’t handsome…perhaps he would be a nice man. Men didn’t have to be handsome to be good. They could be kind, respectful, patient, gentle, genuinely kind husbands.

So which one was he? A kind, pure soul? Or an irredeemale monster?

Both? In between? Neither? There was only one way to find out. And the answer was standing with the other men beyond that wall.

You took in a deep breath, your father opened the door.

The dark green, musty library already smelled of cigars. Lottie would have loved it. There was a bit of laughter, as their smoke floated to the air. Cups of whiskey was passed and there was talk of this and that issue in Parliment. So many men in black suits like a horde clamored around, as if each one was copied from the other.

Your father cleared his throat.

“Gentlemen, may I introduce to you my daughter, Miss Y/L/N.”

Once, it was Lottie who was “Miss Y/L/N” and you just went by Miss and your first name after. But now that she was gone, you were promoted up. You were Miss Y/L/N and the family’s fortune and future were already on you like a yoke you had to drag across the field.

“It appears that for one of you, you are about to be a very lucky man next month…” your father continued.

One by ones, heads turned to see you. Some in curiosity. Some in boredom. Some in hunger seeing your neckline. You were already making guesses as to who your fiancee was with each passing face. Already one man had a curled mustache. Another had grey hair with busy sideburns. Another round spectacles and short brown hair with a mousy face. Most of them were wrinkled, lined with grey, with a gruffness to their demenaer.

“Sir Sharpe,” your father announced, turning his head.

Your eyes followed at once. That is him- you thought. That is him! That is him, that is him, thatishimthatishimthatishim-

An old man patted a hand on the shoulder of another. The younger had hair had longer, dark curls He was so deep in conversation with someone that he almost forgot. The grandfather nudged him. The younger figure paused.

“Thomas! I believe your lady is here.”

Then he turned around.

Thomas Sharpe was the handsomest man you had ever seen.

The breath you had was knocked out again as you took him in. What on earth was Lottie thinking? Looking at him, you began to question her taste and strength of vision.

Thomas was a tall man with a hair full of raven curls. Slender, but not thin for he had a broad chest. Soft blue eyes that only contrasted with his dark hair and a face the color of porcelain. You now understood the fairy tale of Snow White and why she was the fairest in all the land. For the male equivalent was here before you. He had high cheekbones and large hands. He looked like the hero of a Bronte novel, but one if the author confirmed his handsomeness rather than his ugliness.

He looked into your eyes and he smiled at you. Butterflies fluttered around your stomach and you could feel your eyes widening.

Your father gestured at him and he walked over.

“Sir Sharpe, this is my daughter.Your fiancee.” your father announced.

“Miss, I am glad to finally be acquainted with you. You look beautiful, tonight,” Sir Sharpe greeted.

He raised your hand to his lips and looked right into your eyes as kissed your hand. A gasp could not even escape your throat. Something was stirring beneath you when his lips touched your gloved hand. You felt a sensation you dared not name in the most private part of you.

Finally, steeling yourself back to the earth, you remembered basic etiquette.

“Thank you, Sir Sharpe. I am glad to make your acquaintance as well,” you replied with a curtsy.

Sir Sharpe sat across from you at dinner. You hardly said a word unless someone asked you something.

You couldn’t believe this. You couldn’t believe him. You somehow found your appetite again and ate. But you felt self conscious with each bite. Thomas was watching you- what was he seeing? Would he judge you? You moved even more carefully and properly as you could.

Every time your eyes met, Every time he looked at you, a heat rushed through your whole body and your eyes would return demurely back to your plate or the napkin on your lap. When he smiled at you, you felt as if you could die. You had to remember your feet was touching the ground as you wiggled your toes in your pointed shoes..

He spoke poliely when asked to, but mainly listened. There was polite talk about the weather or the Ascot opening race. Thomas would ask you about what you thought and you found your replies were timid. You didn’t want to make a wrong move, you didn’t want him to hate you, you didn’t want-

Then your father stood up, raising a glass.

“Now, everyone,” he declared. “Let us have a toast. To Sir Sharpe, the delightful Baronet who I have the honor to call my son in law not long from now. And to the marriage of my beloved, dutiful daughter-”

You found yourself looking down. Dutiful, dutiful. This was why you were here. Lottie was not dutiful and broke everything. But now here you were to fix it all. For everyone’s sakes, including yours. It would have be you thrown to face the unknown of marriage to this unknown aristocrat. Yes, he was handsome. But he was still a stranger.

“Cheers!” toasted your father.

Everyone replied with cheers as they clinked glasses. Thomas gave you another smile and clinked yours. You felt yourself become timid. His looks, his smiles, and you were acting no better than an loony adolescent.

Thomas delayed going to after-dinner sips of brandy with the other men. He remained in the parlor with the women sipping on coffee and went to you. He led you over to a corner away from nosy mamas. He spoke lowly, for you to hear.

“How are you, Miss Y/L/N?” he asked.

“If I must be entirely honest, I am afraid,” you confessed.

His eyes softened at you. They were the color of a spring sky. You had never seen eyes as blue as his.

“YN, I know this is sudden. And I’m shocked as you are. But…”

He offered his hand and you took it. Your glove over his skin. Then he placed his other over yours, and already you found yourself chilled comparing his large hand to your own. To feeling that one bit of touch. For now you were almost married, and to touch was permitted.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me…I will try to make you happy, with everything I can.” he promised.

“Nothing will happen to me. You won’t hurt me. And you won’t let anyone hurt me, will you?” you asked.

A shadow of sadness passed over his face.

“No. I won’t.”

#crimson peak #crimson peak fanfiction #thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe x you #thomas sharpe x reader #thomas sharpe x y/n #thomas sharpe x fem! reader #thomas sharpe x fem! y/n #tom hiddleston characters #angst with a happy ending #fanfiction #tom my beloved #tom hiddleston #thomas sharpe imagine #crimson peak multi part #crimson peak fanfic #crimson peak imagine #thomas sharpe x female!reader

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selfishmachinez · 9 months ago

Note

About time I found someone who writes for mammon !! With that being said, I’d like to ask for him with a service top/dom reader? N maybe near the end once we’ve pleased him he returns the favor via oral ? ^^’

MAMMON WITH SERVICE TOP!READER

notes: HIIIHII THIS IS LITERALLY PERFECT??? GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET RN I LOVE THIS LITTLE THING SM☺️☺️ also im so sorry about the wait i got sick and didnt have inspo for like a day😔

warnings: not writing mammon's accent sorry💔 idk how to write accents properly just imagine it in ur mind idk; mammon being an asshole (hey, its mammon.); afab reader; insults like cunt/whore/bitch etc are still used in a gn way tho; my gf proofread like 80% of this if theres any typos blame her not me /j

word count: 1,510 (not including a/n)

NSFW UNDER CUT

okay lets get this straight

this man can NOT be a good dom

he's literally the single of greed what do you expect

our little pillow princess /hj

okay imagine this: after fizz quit, he's obviously PISSED OFF, so u do a little favor for him (wink wink)

Normally, during his Clown Pageants, you'd just sit next to him and the fizzbots on his web, watching the contestants try to win the crowd over, just to miserably fail, and watch Fizzarolli win... again.

This one had to be the most interesting one so far. Fizzarolli quit. And insulted Mammon too. He was pissed, to say the least.

You left the web a while before he "exploded" the Theatre and entered his office.

"That little bitch!" He shouted, bursting inside the office, not in full demon form anymore.

"Mam, the door." You warned him. But yeah, he pretty much already broke the door. Whatever. He's got the money, he'll get it fixed later.

He sat down on his bean bag next to you. "Can you believe it? I made that cunt! And he just walks out the scene like that!" He bitched, sitting down next to you. "That ungrateful, useless, little-" You shushed him before he could finish his sentence. "WHAT?" He growled at you.

"I think you need to, y'know, relax a little. You know what I mean?" You said, giving him the look. His eyes widened a little at the statement. "Just sit back and enjoy yourself, okay?" You said, running a hand under his motley.

"Fuck." He groaned. He was trying his hardest not to just rip his clothes off. He had a tough day. He needed this. He needed you. Your touch.

You run your hand down his pants, pulling his cock out. He was so painfully hard already. "You're this hard already? All because of me huh? You just love the attention, don't you?"

"Just- fuck, don't make me beg, you cunt." He moaned out, leaning back against the bean bag.

"Alright, boss," you said, your voice dripping with lust. You knew how much of a whore he was for that type of nickname.

brief interruption☝️ i hc his dick is about 10" (HAVE YOU SEEN HOW BIG HE IS ofc hes gonna have a huge cock) and has the same colors as his tongue (purple/periwinkle with dark yellow stripes) AND HELLA GIRTHY TOO HELLO????? CONTINUING,

You gently grip his cock, tracing circles on his tip with your thumb, causing the tiniest drop of pre-cum to leak out. "You like this already? Gosh, you ain't gonna last a second like this." You teased, beginning to stroke his dick at painfully slow rate.

"Doll, please," he panted out, in the most ridiculous fashion ever.

"Don't be greedy, Mam." You chuckled, he was so cute begging like this. "I thought you said you wouldn't beg."

"Maybe if you did a better job at this, bitch." He grunted.

"Do you want me to stop?" You said, softening your grip around his member, causing him to panic a bit. "No! Don't!" He begged, tugging at your sleeves with his bottom pair of arms. "Doll, c'mon. Don't leave me hanging."

"Hm," you wrapped another hand around his dick. "Fine, since you're being such a good boy." You'd have some work to do now. Giving him handjobs was always such a handful, no pun intended. Since he's big, a single hand was never enough. You thought about it for a while, forgetting what you were doing in the first place. "So?"

"Right. My bad." You got back to it quickly though; moving your hand up and down his member at a quicker pace, making him pant and whimper under your touch.

You wanted to give him a blowjob. Should you, though? Yes. Definitely. Even though the back of your throat would hurt horribly afterwards.

Your hands are quick to let go of him, making him tilt his head in confusion. "Whatcha doin'?" His confusion died down swiftly after he saw you kneel in front of him, pulling his pants down. "Don't." He said, grinning as he just ripped them off himself, spreading his legs. "Good boy." You mumbled, kissing his length.

While one of your hands rested on his inner thigh, rubbing gentle circles on it with your index finger, your tongue went from his base to his tip, feeling every little vein on the way up there.

"Fuck, pumpkin." He moaned, grabbing the back of your head. "Please." He lifted your head up to make you look at him. He gave you the most pathetic grin ever, sweating his ass off.

"Don't be a baby." You kissed his tip, making him moan, covering his mouth with his hand.

After teasing and edging him for a good 5 minutes, he had enough of that. "Just- ugh, please." He groaned, tugging at your hair. "Do it already. Ya teasing me too much."

"Stop being a brat, whore." You shut him up with that. "Good." Finally, you got to work. Though you only swallowed his tip at first, he was already a mess. But you had to keep going; you force yourself down his length as best as you could, licking and sucking on him. That was definitely not enough though, so you grab the part you couldnt get down your throat with your hand, caressing his base.

"Close. 'M so fucking-" He groaned, sending down little electric shocks. Oh, yeah, he does that sometimes.

another interruption, i hc him an being a ballooning/joro spider, since he kinda looks like one and they use electricity like him‼️ okay CONTINUING ONCE MOREEEE,,,,,

You took your mouth off him for a bit, gasping for air. "You're being so greedy, you know that?" You grinned at him. He looked like such a mess right now. Panting and sweating. But by god, did he look adorable like that. You go back to just gently licking down at his member, looking him in the eyes.

"Pumpkin, please, 'm so close- fuck..."

"Is that so? Hm?" You mumbled, kissing his base gently, going back to patting his tip with your palm. He greedily humped your palm, eager to cum.

He kept on buckling against your palm until he moaned loudly against his hand. "I'm gonna..." You pulled your hand away from his tip, letting him cum all over your face. He slumped down on the bean bag, gasping for air louder than he had to.

You sigh, getting up to grab some tissues to get you both cleaned. He calls you, "Yes?" You reply.

"Y'know, I could 'pay you back'." He grinned, getting up and grabbing you by the waist. "Ya just calmed me down, guess I owe you a little favor." Without warning you, he grabs you and throws you (as gently as he could) back on the bean bag, leaning on top of you, licking his own cum off your face.

"Cleaning the mess you made with your tongue like that? You slut." You fiddle with his jester hat. "What are you gonna do, huh?"

"Just trust me, sweet cheeks." He mumbled, taking your pants/skirt/shorts off. Oh. Was he gonna..? Normally, he wouldn't really pay you back, not that you wanted him to. You were perfectly fine with just pleasuring him. "You don't have to."

"I want to. Are you gonna let me do my thing, yeah?." He grumbled, taking your underwear off with his teeth. God.

"Mhm, yes sir." He kissed down at your v-line, making you tremble slightly.

a/n, i tried to hard to write an amab version but god im horrid at this

also holy shit have you seen his tongue

he def knows how to use it for good

im wet i mean who said that whaaaatttt🤯

He gently licked down at your clit. Once, twice. Then stopped. "Why'd you..?" But he shushed you by shoving a finger inside you. "Ya like this?" You answer with a weak moan, which he took as a "yes".

So, he put another finger in, scissoring them inside you. He sucked on your clit, making you moan and squirm. "Use... your tongue."

"Hm? What?" He pulled out, looking up at you, a wide grin spread across his face.

"You know what I mean." He looked back down at your cunt. You squished his face between your thighs. He took his fingers out, licking them before replacing them with his much longer and thicker tongue, making you whimper. Loudly. He moved his tongue inside you. Up and down, left and right, in and out.

It was rare for him to give you oral, but when he did, it felt like heaven. He pulled out, panting. But you shoved his face back there. He couldn't stop. Not now.

He quickly went back to eating you out, needily thrusting his tongue in and out your pussy.

"Good fucking God, Mammon-" And there he goes again, pulling his tongue out. "Why'd you stopp..." You whined. He looked down at your puffy and wet cunt. "Shouldn't have teased me earlier."

"What, but- but you know you like it!" Your tone dripped with desperation. You needed to cum so badly. Would he give you the satisfaction that early though? Obviously not. Not out of selfishness, he just had to give you a good orgasm. Like the one you gave him. "Mhm..." He huffed against your entrance, gently shoving a finger in while licking your clit in a circular motion.

He did so for a good 5 minutes, before adding a finger, then another one. You couldn't take it anymore. He was overstimulating you so much. You aggressively tugged at his hat, forcing him onto you even more. He took two fingers out, replacing the latter with his tongue.

You definitely couldn't take it anymore. "Mammon, I'm gonna..." Finally, he let you cum. Not that you let go of him for a good 10 seconds though. You gripped at his hat, still riding out your high.

"See, told ya I'd pay you back."

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #mammon x reader #helluva boss mammon #mammon helluva boss #mammon helluva boss x reader #helluva boss smut #mammon x you #selfishmachinez #i love you my little australian christmas tree #I LOVE FAT EVIL MEN

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liliesof-the-valley · 1 month ago

Text

Singer mc

How do the brothers react to a mc who can sing?

Not proofread, this idea came to me while I was supposed to be writing about a jack of all trades mc but oh well, enjoy!!

─── ୨ৎ────

Luci

Needless to say, he’s so impressed.

He thinks you should show the world this while also wanting to simultaneously have your voice belong to him

I suppose the showing off the talents you have boosts his ego in a way.

I’m pretty sure it’s canon that he’ll listen to anything except techno (I think) and regardless of the style of singing you do (be it opera, more theatre-y or metal) he’ll support you.

To be fair , though, I do think his favourite would be you singing opera

He’ll accompany you with the piano as you sing your heart out to whatever and whatever.

Perhaps if you sing a duet, he’ll join in, who knows?

Mams

Do I love him? Yes. Do I think he may try exploit this? Also yes.

Okay hear me out, once he does find out about your special talent he’s absolutely awestruck, though at first I do think his greed may get to his head.

Plots of how he can record you or help you audition in films/ musicals or how much money he would make if he—

But wait. Once he comes to his senses, he realises…

Your voice should just be heard by him, he is the great mammon, your first after all!

Needless to say, the two of you go to many karaoke parlours afterwards as well as singing whilst driving to nowhere special

Levi

To be fair, I’m pretty sure there wouldn’t be anyone who wouldn’t be impressed by your absolute delight of a voice

Levi thinks similarly, thinking of how many people you’ve sung to and how many people have heard your siren song…

Well, he is the avatar of envy after all, he’s bound to get jealous over something.

Despite his jealousy, it’s quite easy to make him feel better.

How? Easy, sing an anime op. More specifically (if he’s in a reallyy bad mood) sing the opening of hana ruri and he’s grinning ear to ear, brighter than the whole of the celestial realm.

You and him do actually do karaoke and he LOVES how your voice can just…wow.

Expect him to ask for mini concerts with you dressed in cosplay

Satan

He’s intrigued, curious and even more interested in you now.

You can sing? And not just that, this wonderful?

Some demons would take centuries to build up this kind of voice, and you (be with years of practice or being naturally talented) have achieved this skill this quickly? (Remember the perceptions of time are diff guys😭)

he treats this as sort of a science experiment, I suppose—which does mean LOADS OF QUESTIONS.

How high can you go? How low can you go? Do you know that…? Do you—

After this initial stage, he does like asking you to sing to him, especially if he’s in a mood or about to explode and like that, he’s calm again.

Asmo

oh my! You can sing?!

How cute!!

He may ask for your permission to post some videos of you singing, the world deserves to see your beautiful voice and his beautiful face!

Sing to him while he’s getting ready and he feels like the main character

Asmo has a nice voice too so I could imagine a duet between you two

Its so happens that company reached out and asked you two to sing a duet!

Well, at least your getting payed good

Asmo nights now are required to have at least one karaoke portion/place

Beel

You can sing? Cool!

I mean honestly, he’d probably find out randomly

I can imagine him realising your siren-like voice whilst you are singing and cooking

You’d casually be singing to a song from your playlist as you cook and he walks in

His jaw drops because, wow???

Almost forgot about his snack due to the sheer shock of your serene voice

anyways, he does ask you about it, thinking its something you should share with people

Belphie

there’s no way that he wouldn’t make you sing lullabies to him

In fact, that’s probably his favourite thing to hear you sing

Whilst napping together, even if he’s on the verge of falling asleep, it’s nice to hear you singing into his ears, lulling him to sleep

Hm? Belphies having problems with sleeping? That’s a lie first of all he wants you to sing to him

maybe if you sing a lullaby to him he’ll be able to fall asleep better

Come on.. just one, or two, or three, or—

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obmswd #obey me writing #obey me lucifer #obey me asmodeus #obey me brothers #obey me headcannons #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me belphie #obey me beel #I’m acc so bored guys

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thedemises · 9 months ago

Text

. . . EH? W- WHAT?! featuring “avatar of greed” mammon!

contains! . . . obey me! shall we date?/obey me! one master to rule them all, mammon being all flustered and stammering, use of nicknames “human” and “mams”, sleepy mc, mc has ram horns (i know that rams are basically adult male sheep but im trying my best to keep this as gender neutral as possible so pls-), mammon being mammon, pretty much no major warnings! :D notes! . . . this is also a small writing that i scrambled to create at night just like the most recent ace imagine- March 14th, 2024 at 3:08 AM 💀

mammon, the great mammon, the avatar of greed—cannot take this any longer.

while sitting up comfortably in his beloved human’s bed, he finds himself trapped and unable to move with the human clinging on to his back like he’s the tree and they’re the.. koala (from what he remembers, when both of them were comparing the human realm’s animals to the devildom’s creatures).

but also—not to mention... he feels like the side of his cheek is starting to burn aflame by the stare that’s causing it.

now, with the courage he mustered up internally—mammon decides to confront them like he's accusing that they're at fault for something trivially bad. yeah.

“o- oi human... what’cha starin’ at me with that look for?? ”

the words simple slip so easily out of his mouth as the burning grows more prominent and quite warmer when the staring doesn’t stop, more likely directed at his eyes specifically; you can still see his lashes fluttering every time he blinks.

with his gaze now focused on you; your arms drapped over his shoulders in a careless manner but secure enough for him to not shrug you off intentionally (not that he would) and your legs crossed and locked around his waist, your head rested on his shoulder—or your arm—as you stare with a sleepy look in your drooping eyes, like you’re at the brink of giving up staying awake any longer but yet you remain at least half-lidded the entire time.

moving your position slightly, the question he asked has you speaking up a bit. “hmmph...”, a soft hum erupts from your throat, half of your face burrowed within his sweater as you made sure to keep your horns away—sppcifically the tips—to prevent injuring him by total accident, “I don’t know... just.. I like how pretty your eyes appear when you wear those shades. the black ones with an orange golden-like gradient in the lenses. ’ts like a sunset’s reflection on a blue sea, but your eyes are very pretty either way; with or without shades.”

...

... dammit human....

mammon does not have any idea on how to respond—momentarily frozen with his thumb paused the second before it can touch the screen of his D.D.D. that showed the homepage of Devilgram.

congrats mc, you broke him.

“mams?” your weary voice with a hint of amusement brings mammon’s blue-screen-of-death mind back to the present, following a brief chuckle to escape you. “seems like even the littlest of compliments can make you react like a reindeer caught in the headlights.”

that sentence makes the poor second born sputter and stumble over his words, a dark red-ish flush blooms over his cheeks from embarrassment and being a flustered mess; darkening his skin by the blood rushing to his face.

“we- well, of course you’d see the great mammon in that way! ... no, i am not blushing- it’s just a little hot in ’ere! yer just seein’ things.. and no i ain’t enjoying this at all, human! i’m just lettin’ ya do this because i allow ya to, ’kay?!” despite his denies and protests about ever feeling warm and fuzzy in this moment, you can still tell he’ll treasure this memory a lot in the future.

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koolades-world · 9 months ago

Note

Hellooo I like your stuff! :)

Can I pls request something where MC takes Mammon’s early game tsundere shit too seriously? Like, they always take things literally so when he says he doesn’t like or care about them, he’s annoyed to have to babysit them, he doesn’t want this stupid human, etc etc, they believe him?

But they thought he was warming up to them, they thought they were friends (and they’d started to really love their first friend!), so they get really sad about it. He’s like “I DONT care about the human!” And MC’s like, “oh… :’( okay….” and like, either Mammon has to fix it, or Beel and/or Levi (or any of the others! All of the others? Whatever you like) (after making their pacts) have to step in and help. Comfort the human and guilt Mam into communicating however they’d go about that.

Sorry if this is too specific! No pressure of course, do whatever you want with this, have fun :)

Thank you :))

🫐

hi! yes of course :)

today I actually based my outfit around his casual outfit since I have a jacket kinda like his. got so many compliments <3 wore knee high brown boots, a jean mini skirt, a cropped black cami, my mammon jacket, and my diamond studs. wanted to wear some gold hoops but my ears were not having it. dressing up and outfit planning are some of my favorite things to do

if you see that i wrote in second person instead of third in a few spots, please ignore that! i kept catching myself swapping tenses and I tried to find all of them but if i missed them i'm sorry haha

please enjoy, blueberry anon!!

Heart to Heart

Life in the Devildom wasn't easy, but Mc was slowly getting used to it. Sure, it would never be not chaotic to walk around and classes in a school full of demons, but maybe one day, they might be able to consider it normal.

They had begun to make friends with the other demons in their class, gotten involved with a few clubs that they really enjoyed, and even finally started to grasp the concept of the subjects they were attending class for. But, there was one thing they just couldn't even see themselves growing used to.

The first demon they had really thought they'd started to get to know really seemed to dislike being around them. No matter what they did, Mammon always seemed annoyed with them, no matter how sweet they tried to be. They felt most comfortable turning to him since they'd never seen him angry, and seemed the least violent out of their new housemates, especially with Devildom things they just didn't understand. He was by far the most approachable.

They could never understand his seeming hostility despite the fact that they hadn't done anything to him. His almost condescending nature bugged them a little. They didn't take it personally at first, since he was just supposed to be his tour guide and someone to go to if they needed it. He wasn't obligated to them in any way.

But they couldn't help but notice how mutually, they had wormed their way into each others hearts. At some point, it had become routine for him to invite himself into their room after he had finished getting ready for the night to watch something on TV while they attempted to do homework. Every time, they would eventually give up in favor of watching with him since he always had something funny to add. At lunch, despite having his own friends, he would plop down beside them with a snack for you, with some excuse about needing the human to stay healthy. Even if they were talking with one of their friends, he would wiggle between the two of them and stay there, to the point where their friends knew to leave him a spot since he was always fashionably late. At dinner, he always insisted they sit next to him, where'd he'd always whisper to them about his brothers and always inevitable get caught by the one he was talking about. It never failed to make them giggle, and also almost get in trouble.

Every time they had a moment like one of these, he would pretend like it hadn't even happened. It was like nothing between the two of them mattered to him. His comments always read like he was almost annoyed to have to be around them, and that he disliked it. It hurt, but they couldn't say they weren't used to it. After all, they would be gone after a year, so it wouldn't matter anyways, right?

One day in particular, nothing had gone correctly. Mammon had been out the previous night and let Mc know very last minute, despite it being a school night. Their room had felt empty. In hopes he would be back soon, they left his spot open, but he never showed up. They had known that, but it still felt strange. They had been able to get so much work done, but they went to bed feeling something they didn't quite understand.

The next morning, it had felt like he was going out of his way to avoid them. They had seen him once, and perhaps he hadn't seen them, but they didn't even get so much as a smile. He was absent at breakfast, like usual. It also wasn't his turn to walk them to school, so they didn't get to talk to him then either. Later that day, during lunch, he also never showed up. It was odd, but the two of them had never made the promise to meet, so it wasn't like he had some obligation. Their friends gave them a knowing look, one filled with concern, but they told them nothing was wrong. Or so they hoped.

They finally saw him that evening at dinner, but he just wasn't himself. He made no effort to speak to them. When they did try, he was harsher than usual, and kept making comments about them being a stupid human who didn't know any better. It was all in character for him, but with the treatment they had received that day, it hit closer to home than they thought it would. Once the meal was mostly over, and a few of his brothers had filed out of the room, Mc leant over to him to quietly ask if something was wrong. The response they got was much more explosive than they thought they would receive.

"Mammon, how have you been today? I haven't seen you much, and wondered if something was wrong." They stood next to Mammon, collecting all the spare dishes to be washed.

"That's none of yer business, human." He spat out his words like venom at them. His expression after the fact seemed like he'd almost regretted what he'd said, but made no move to take it back.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just thought... Forget I asked." They took a step back, not expecting his words to hit them like that. They decided to take the dishes they were holding to the kitchen. Maybe he would be gone when they returned for more.

"Mammon, that was very rude." Lucifer, who was doing the same as Mc since they had dish duty together that night, gave Mammon a death glare. "Apologize this instant." When Mammon looked away, Lucifer continued. "Well?" Lucifer searched Mammon's face.

"What's your problem?" Asmo spoke up, looking perturbed by the way he had treated yet another one of his claims to fame. Mc did so well on Devilgram, so the two of them had gotten somewhat close, but not as close as they had with Mammon.

"I don't care about that damn human. When did I say that I did? They're just another responsibility." Mammon spoke as confidently as he usually did, but the look on his face gave it all away.

Mc, who had been hanging in the hall just outside the dining room door since they'd dropped a fork, heard his words. It stung them. They'd heard him say that before, but this time it felt as if he meant it if he hadn't before. With a sigh, they hurried off to the kitchen, closing the door behind them. The three brothers left in the room turned at the sudden noise.

Mammon realized what he'd done, and stood there, stewing in the consequences of his actions. Lucifer and Asmo said something to him before leaving, but he didn't really hear it. He wished he could take it all back, and to tell Mc he didn't mean it. But, he wasn't sure how, or if their relationship was even salvageable.

Mc was in the kitchen, scrubbing a plate when they heard Lucifer enter. They could tell it was him thanks to the sound of his shoes on the tile. They scooted over to make room for him at the sink. "I'm sorry about Mammon." Lucifer broke the silence.

"It's fine. He's right. I am just another task for him to juggle." They didn't look up from the running water.

"I assigned him to look after you. If anything, I can care for you." He placed the dishes in the sink.

"But, he's right, is he not? I'm just a human. I've got no clue what I'm doing here so someone has to look after me. I'm not in this family, so it's not like taking care of me was something he signed up for." They moved clean dishes out of the sink and onto the drying rack. Lucifer remained silent for a moment.

"It's an honor having you here, I hope you realize. This is a momentous occasion. Diavolo entrusted us with the duty of caring for one of the only two human exchange students, in a program that's unique." It seemed like Lucifer was struggling to find the right words to say. This was the nicest they had even seen him be.

"I appreciate it. Thank you. But, what am I to do? A human trapped in a place where humans aren't meant to go. I can't help but feel like a task to be completed." Mc paused. "I'm sorry. That was probably too much." They went silent again.

"You can go up to bed early if you wish. I'll finish these." Lucifer finally said. Without making eye contact, they got down off the stool they had been standing on to reach the top of the drying rack, and left with a small thank you. Mammon wandered in moments after they left, finally seeming to have collected himself.

"Mammon. I hope you're proud of yourself. After that spectacle, I might just have to make Beel their new guardian." Mammon froze at Lucifer's words.

"No! Ya don't gotta do that." He couldn't bring himself to continue himself.

"Really? Because with the way you treated Mc, I would not blame them if they never wanted to speak to you again." Lucifer turned around to look Mammon right in the eyes. He knew that look well. He was disappointed with him.

"I'll just go apologize. No biggie, right?" He tried to act as if nothing was wrong despite the turmoil he'd just caused.

"I have no words." Lucifer turned back to the dishes, ignoring Mammon's attempts to speak to him anymore. Mammon was left with his thoughts again, and all the regret he had. He wasn't sure how to go about with telling them he didn't mean what he'd said, and that was just because he really liked them. After some pondering, he realized nobody but himself was going to fill this hole he'd created, and that it was his job to do it if he wanted to repair their relationship.

Mc had been in their room, reading through some notes from earlier that day, when their door slammed open. Only one demon entered like that. "Mammon." They nodded without looking up.

"Mc. I- Do ya have a moment?" They looked up to meet his gaze. All the animosity had faded and was replaced with a warmness they'd never seen before.

"Yes." They set their pen down, and waited for him to speak.

"I'm sorry about what I said. I'm sorry fer ignorin' ya today. I'm sorry fer treatin' ya like garbage. You don't deserve that." Tears began to well up in his eyes, but he continued. "I have trouble tellin' ya this, but I think yer really great. If yer willin' to talk to me again, I promise I won't do all that anymore." The tears began to slip down his cheeks.

"Oh, Mammon, please don't cry." Mc got up to hug him and close the door behind him. He tightly gripped them back, as if they might leave him. Once he'd calmed down a little, Mc spoke again.

"I won't lie, what you said did hurt, but thank you for saying you're sorry. I really love spending time with you. You make me feel welcome here. I don't fully understand you, but I hope that you'll help me understand you." Mc patted Mammon's back.

"Can I stay over in yer room tonight? Let me start there and make it up to ya fer yesterday. Let's watch yer favorite human movie." His eyes are still red, but the smile is back on his face. It really suited him.

"Yes, of course." That night, the both of them fell asleep in Mc's bed together, but not before Mammon thought how lucky he was to have them, despite himself.

#oneshot #gn reader #blueberry anon #sorry im on computer lol #obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me asmo #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #omswd

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hannahssimblr · 4 months ago

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She’s on the swings. The sun is setting and tossing long shadows across the ground. It catches her, the lone, moving figure, idly swinging, looking out towards the dunes ahead of her while the breeze rustles the leaves.

The gate squeaks, and she turns and smiles at me.

“Hogging the swings?” I say.

“Yeah, obviously. I didn’t want any of the kids to have it, so I’ve been holding fort all day.”

“Good strategy.” I slump into the one next to her, and the bark mulch scrapes under my runners. “I didn’t expect to see you here, to be honest.”

“Nor I you.”

“Well, I was out walking.”

“And I was swinging,” she smiles, this specific half smile she does whenever she knows she has charmed me. “To be honest, I’m just waiting for the sun to go down.”

“You like the sunset, hm?”

“Yes, but not because of that, exactly. See, Kelly goes to her room and stays there once it gets dark. She doesn’t sleep for ages, but at least I know she’ll be in her room watching TV, and I won’t encounter her.”

I frown. “Something up between you and Kelly?”

She just laughs. An understatement, I presume. “Kelly and I fell out. I don’t think that we’re friends anymore.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, but there’s like, three weeks left of summer, so I’m going to have to just hang around the village and suffer until then.”

“Is that really what you’ve been doing? Just walking around all day?”

“Well, no, I’ve been swimming, and running, and drawing, and exploring, and things, but basically, yeah, I’ve just been avoiding her.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t enjoy fighting. I don’t like it when people don’t like me.”

“You think she dislikes you? Surely it’s just been a falling out. She’ll come around.”

She gives me a sidewards glance. “I don’t think Kelly ever really liked me, to be honest. I think we were just friends because that’s how it was.”

“Ah.”

“You ever have that?”

“Not really.”

“Of course not.”

I curl my hand around one rope of her swing and change the rhythm, rocking her side to side so that her side gently bumps against mine with every sway. “So, do you want to talk about what happened between you?”

She dips her head in a laugh, and her hair brushes over her thighs. “I think it was more about what we didn’t say to each other, if I’m honest. I’ve been thinking about it a lot the last few days, and I think she was just waiting to find something to get mad at me about.”

“She’s vindictive.” I state.

“Yeah, I suppose. She’s very sensitive and stuff. It upset her that I was late back from your house last week, because she and I were supposed to go swimming together. She thinks that I’m choosing my new friends over her, or something, which isn’t true. It’s not like, you know… like, we’re not friends or anything, yet, are we?” She peers at me around the curtain of her hair.

“C’mon Evie, you’re my friend.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Don’t worry about Kelly. She’s clearly jealous of you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah right.”

“It’s true!”

“That’s something my mam would say to make me feel better about bullies. Nobody is ever actually jealous.”

“Of course she is. Why wouldn’t she be?”

“Um! Because!”

“Because?” I prompt. “There’s a million reasons why. You know, I’ve seen this so many times at school. If you’re smarter or more popular or get more attention, there are people who aren’t going to like that, you know? Especially girls.”

“Are you an expert on teenage girls?”

“No, but I’m just telling you what I’ve seen.”

“Well, even if that’s true, I’m not smarter or more popular than Kelly, so.”

But she is one hundred times more beautiful.

I wouldn’t dream of saying that part out loud, but it’s so true that I am stunned she can’t see it. Watching her now, with that slash of neon sunset light across her face, her long, swanlike neck, and pouty, sad little mouth, my body feels a bit weak. I fear the torture of our friendship, that being around her will have me forever on the cusp of trying to kiss her.

“People like Kelly don’t grow up to be very happy people,” I tell her, as a sea breeze kicks in and throws her jasmine smell under my nose. I release my hold on her swing and back away. “Sad and angry people grow up to have sad and angry lives, and boring jobs and boring hobbies and no friends to hang out with.”

“Could happen to any of us.”

“Not you, Kilbride. Never! And not me either, if I can do anything about it.”

“Yeah, not when you go away to college.” her mouth flattens into a line. “You’ll be happy then.”

“Yeah. I suppose I will. You too, though,” I say, softening. “College is meant to be when everyone finds themselves, or whatever. I think you’ll have the best years of your life there.”

“Here’s hoping.”

The heat goes from the village with the sun, and the lights flicker on, one by one, along the edge of the strand road.

“It’s kind of depressing that you just walk around on your own all day. Why didn’t you ever text me?”

A shrug. “Dunno.”

“Claire hangs out with us all the time. You can too. If you want.”

“I just don’t want to be annoying, I suppose.”

“You’d never annoy me. Why don’t you come over now, and we can watch a film? With the whole gang, obviously.” I add with haste. “We have loads of snacks and stuff, and I can just drive you home later on.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“That actually sounds really nice.”

“Good, c’mon then.”

And as we amble through the playground together, discussing the kind of horrible film the guys must have chosen for us, it is the strangest thing, but I catch myself almost reaching for her hand.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2010 #cuties tbh #beauties also #show us your story #simblr #sims 4 storytelling

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normalestenstars · 2 months ago

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Today, the Switch poll concluded which means this round of most normal character of their respective unit polls are over 🎉. Below are the winners of each unit, grouped by company!

fine: Tori Trickstar: Mao RYUSEITAI: Midori ALKALOID: Aira ↑Additionally, the ALKALOID poll received the highest number of votes, ending with a total of 543 votes. Aira received 62.6% of it, which means he received 340 votes!

Eden: Jun ↑Additionally, out of all the poll winners Jun has the highest voted percentage rate, receiving 84.6% of the votes (329/389). Kuro is a close second though, receiving 80.2% of the votes from the AKATSUKI poll. Valkyrie: Shu ↑Despite many people commenting they're abstaining (even on Twitter too!), Valkyrie is not the unit with the least amount of votes! That unfortunate place belongs to 2wink, with a total of 236 votes. 2wink: Yuta Crazy:B: Niki

UNDEAD: Adonis Ra*bits: Tomoya ↑Additionally, the Ra*bits poll was the most divisive! Tomoya only won by 1.7%, or 7 votes. AKATSUKI: Kuro

Knights: Tsukasa ↑ This poll was primarily a fight between Tsukasa and Arashi, both characters receiving 150+ votes. However, their seniors did not receive the same courtesy. In the end, Ritsu received 16 votes, Leo 12 votes, and Izumi 9 votes. Switch: Sora *There was no Madara/MaM poll as he's a solo idol currently, and a poll needs at least 2 slots.

I hope everyone enjoyed this round of most normal enstars characters!

#enstars #normal polls

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prof-ramses · 1 year ago

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More Golden Goose (Mammon x Stella) stuff! (and some other HCs)

Much like the last volume, this batch of ideas will contain some HCs that are only included by virtue of association with a Golden Goose one.

Mammon doesn't have any chefs in his house staff, partly because he doesn't want the extra expense, but also because he actually enjoys cooking and is very skilled at it. This comes as a pleasant surprise to Stella and Octavia.

Contrasting the last one, Ozzie is actually a pretty sloppy cook and doesn't know many recipes, it's just that, unlike Fizz, the things he makes can at least be called food. The only reason they didn't have a chef was to lessen the risk of someone "discovering" their relationship. The first thing Asmodeus did after the mid-season special was put out a chef wanted ad.

Stella will often tell Mam stories about Via as a little kid and show him any accompanying photos she has. He's always enthralled by these and starts his own family photo album shortly after the first time Stella does this. Mammon sometimes spends minutes on end looking at the album, it's come closer than anything else to making him run late for a meeting.

Whenever they cross paths Mam chews out Stolas for treating his family like shit. Stolas tries the defend himself the first time but Mammon doesn't let him pull his scummy excuses. After that, Stolas would just fume in silence and shame whenever this happens.

Via eventually starts writing and composing her own songs and puts together an album. Mam and Stella are super proud but also not sure what to do when it comes to releasing it. After a long family discussion, Mam decides Via can perform it, but only at an exclusive royal gathering, while it's publicly released later under the stage name Great Eclipse, with a slight voice modifier.

Stella has a deep appreciation of art, especially performance art. Any performance that's any performance will have Greed's royal family in the audience. Stella also often listens to Via's songs in her free time.

Stella sometimes calls Mammon "Muffin" as a pet name. Her reasoning is that he's big, warm, soft and sweet (and she loves the way he tastes).

Lastly, for some angst and comfort: Early into the relationship Stella often felt a sense of not being good enough for or being a burden to Mam, as she didn't have much varied life experience. This would sometimes throw her into manic depressive states and bring out her more aggressive side. The first time this happened Mam freaked out and was terrified that he'd lose Stella. Luckily, Via was able to smooth out the situation and tell Mammon about her mom's problems and the signs that she's having a "mood". Ever since then, if Mam even thinks that Stella is having those self deprecating intrusive thoughts he makes sure to do something extra just for her. No matter how small it is, Stella always cherishes it and these issues almost completely disappear by the time they get married.

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silverinkbottle · 9 months ago

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hi! hello! your velvette fic was literally amazing, i read it like at least 5 times haha! the way you write is,, wow.

anywho, i wanna request a rosie fic if that’s alright!! with a reader who’s hellborn and finds a lot of excuses to visit pride ring/cannibal town (totally not just to see rosie) bonus if reader’s a hellhound! i just really loved the way you wrote sphynx reader with velvette, animal themed demons have a soft spot in my heart ❤️ another bonus, the two are incredibly flirty with each other

thanks for your time!

A:N: Hello Anon!!! Thank you so much for the sweet request, I hope you enjoy!!

Summary: Being a Courier of Hell has it's perks; benefits, travel and sometimes the occasional yearning friendship

Warnings: Violence, Cannibalism

Flowers and Other Things

Rosie X GN!Hellhound!Reader

Word Count:3.2K

The scent of rotting meat permeated the air like a thick perfume as you let out the quietest of excited yips. It finally bloomed after months of waiting and watching as you leaned closer to the cream-colored petals of the giant orchid. The inner depths speckled with crimson as the plant seemed to shudder at your closer inspection as if wanting to welcome you inside. It was just as you suspected another carnivorous plant for the books as you hastily scribbled the observation in your notebook. However, it wouldn’t thrive in Hell with it’s slow maturity phase, it would need to be crossbred with more via-

“Taking a little break, my little Bichon?”

The gentle address startled you from your thoughts as you sheepishly smiled embarrassed at being caught from slacking off your duties. Goods didn’t transport themselves after all in the Seven Rings of Hell. It was a dangerous job, but someone had to do it as you tucked away the small book into your pant’s pocket. Straightening your cap, you clicked your heels together in a quiet greeting as Rosie giggled in amusement.

“Apologies, mam. It’s just that-”

“Oh my stars. It bloomed overnight, I see.” Rosie’s words cut over your own as she clapped her hands together in excitement, grabbing you by the waist to turn you back around to admire the flower. You could feel your heart leap into your throat at the gentle touch as Rosie cooed over the flower’s progress and vibrant shade.

“No wonder you wandered into the garden, Bichon. It’s lovely!” Rosie hummed as you quietly nodded your head in agreement. It’s how your unlikely friendship started afterall. Several months ago, picking up a mail order from Cannibal Town, it was impossible to resist the urge to wander about trying to track the unique scent of the Overlord’s garden. A lush bloom of nature and greenery within the Pride Ring that could rival the hanging gardens of Gluttony. Diligently tended by the lady herself as if were her own children.

“But how did you manage to figure it out, mam. Last time it looked so..sad” You asked as Rosie’s smile brightened flashing sharp pointed teeth.

“All it took was a little bit of positivity, my Bichon. Well, B positive. Seems the soil was a bit too dry for our delicate specimen here.” Rosie explained as the heel of her shoe dug into the brownish dirt. The small impact provoked the faintest puddle of crimson that rapidly retreated back into the earth. The bodies of Sinners had more uses than food in Cannibal Town.

“Now, come with me. I need to give you something.” Rosie insisted as she grabbed you by your paw without hesitation. Once more your heart did that stupid flip flop sensation as you tried to ignore the funny sensation, but even that didn’t stop your tail from giving the smallest of wags.

“Oh now, don’t get anxious. You’ll like this even more than the flower.” Rosie tutted as she mistook your excitement for anxiety. Still, it was a shame as greenery was exchanged for the ceramic floors of the shop. At least it was well-lit as sunlight flitted through the glass interior as you watched Rosie rifle through various storage cabinets with a determined expression.

“My offer still stands on helping you declutter, Miss Rosie.”

There was a clatter of muffin tins and small decorative metal cookie designs as the Overlord swept them aside with a kick of her shoe. She was almost inside the lower cabinet as you leaned further over the counter as your ears twitched at the various noises of shifting items. A bell? Something metallic rubbing against another. A strangely enticing squeak?

“All things are worth keeping, Bichon. You never know when- Ah ha!”

Your eyes went wide as you smelled the item before it was gently set down on the counter. She wasn’t going-, no, you couldn’t.

“I insist. Think of it as a favor for ol’ Rosie. I know you can make it thrive, Bichon.” Rosie praised as she lightly pushed the small burlap sack closer to your stunned form. Even within the protective material, you could still smell the faint metallic scent of the seedling. It’s what drew your attention to its’ parent in the first place as you and Rosie organized seeds one day. In comparison to its’ dramatic parent, the seed itself was a dull green color with a thin shell. So thin that you worried its protective coating would flake away before the plant grew enough roots to properly set in the hard earth.

“But Rosie what if-”

“It fails to thrive? Then, we’ll come up with another plan, my dear.” Rosie promised as she gently pried open your closed paw to place the small sack in it. Gentle, she was so gentle as you were forced to look anywhere but at her.

“I’ll give it my best then.” You promised as Rosie clapped her hands together in delight at your acceptance. There was the faintest chim of the shop’s greeting bell as Rosie rushed away to make quick conversation with the new guest. The small seed package in your hand still felt warm as you quickly tucked it away into your vest pocket. Next to your thudding heart as your keen gaze watched Rosie’s exaggerated hand gestures in her explanation to the guest.

“And the poor dearie thought that violet wouldn’t clash-”

Lively. It was one of the traits you admired in the woman, her seemingly endless supply of energy as it was rare for you to see her sit down. Her heels clicked against the floor as she placed another brown package of her guest as her hand idly waved towards you. The guest raised a brow, but nodded all the same before passing a sealed letter over to the shopkeep.

“Now, don’t you worry. It’ll get there within a day or two. Hellhound Couriers haven’t failed me yet.” Rosie chirped as she ushered the guest out with a flourish of her hand. While the other grabbed the letter off the counter without a second look.

“Where’s it going?” You asked as you opened up the satchel looped over your shoulder. Its contents were depressingly small for the effort it took to get here. Traversing through the Rings could be exhausting and expensive from the impossibly slow crowds of Sloth commuters to the bolder pickpockets of Greed.

“The Envy Ring. Something about a scorned love affair or something. She wasn’t exactly keen on the topic.” Rosie explained with a huff as the woman was a gossip hound at heart. Even as much as she denied it, stating it was mere conversation over tea and cake with a touch of theatrics.

“Want me to try and get more info from the other party?” You suggested with a grin.

“Oh, you know me only too well, Bichon.” Rosie praised as she handed over the letter with a knowing look. It was a fair trade in the end as you knew that she too would be benefiting from advertising your services. Currency freely exchanging hands as Sinners weren’t exactly able to travel between the Rings compared to Hellborne. At least half of your jobs came from the Pride Ring, it would have been even more if you took on more dangerous jobs like weaponry and drugs. Yet, you had seen too many of your fellow Couriers waylaid carrying those sorts of things. No, it’s why you stuck to letters, smaller packages and other less flashy deliveries.

Alarm shot through your form like an unpleasant shock as you spied the time on the wooden grandfather clock in the corner of the shop. Has it been that long? It seemed like merely an hour had passed since your arrival to the garden.

“Shit, Rosie, I’m sorry, I need to-” Your words rambled over each other as you hastily closed up your satchel. Rosie shook her head with a gentle look, she knew what you meant to say as you quickly dashed out the door without another word.

Somehow, it made the small seed packet feel all the warmer against your chest.

Your quaint morning didn’t last long as another client slammed their door in your face. You could easily hear the curses directed towards your unexpected news through the door. What else did the Sinner expect from a loan shark in the Greed ring, clemency? At least it was over and done with as you stepped out onto the cracked pavement of the street. It was almost second nature now to ignore the prickling sensation on the back of your neck as eyes followed your trail.

Hellhounds weren’t unheard of in the Pride Ring, but it was a rarer occurrence. It didn’t help that your company’s logo was stitched on the back of your blue vest ‘Hellhound Couriers. Bones, bags and bodies, we’ll fetch it all.’ in stylized block lettering. At least, the rest of the uniform wasn’t too drastic as you ran a finger over the brim of the knitted cloche hat, smoothing it out. Black slacks tailored for Hellhounds alone as the seams of the ends flared out for larger paws.

Your grip on the satchel tightened as your path was blocked by a pair of Sinners. Now the hair on the back of your neck was raised as the one with goat-like horns picked at sharp teeth with the tip of a knife. While the other held a casual nonchalant air about him, eyes piercing like serpents, but you could see the defined outline of a gun in his coat pocket.

“I told you Jack, it’s funny thing.”

“Oh, is it?” The goat retorted as you took a single step back.

“Ya, we go looking for Hellhound and lookie here. Satchel n all.”

A low growl vibrated in your throat as the would-be thieves eyed you up and down. Fuck, it wasn’t like you couldn’t fight, but it would risk the packages. That wouldn’t do at all. What would the recipient of the lover’s letter from earlier think if the sincere words were stained with blood.

“I don’t want trouble.” You hissed through clench teeth as your ears twitched at the loud click of the gun’s safety going off.

“Well, our associates don’t want debts. So here we are. Now be a good little doggie and hand those papers over.” The goat sinner demanded as he held out his hand, only to pull it back with a sharp scream as your teeth clamped down on flesh and bone. The sudden pull made it even easier for you to vault over the injured man.

“DON’T JUST STAND THERE, SHOOT.” The goat Sinner bleated as you could see him clutching the bleeding stubs of his pointer and index finger while his surprised associate scrambled with the gun.

A single loud crack broke through the air as you took a stuttered gasp of air. Fuck, your lungs burned even though the chase only begun. Blood blossomed over your vest as your shocked brain put two and two together, the bullet had pierced through your back and went out your chest. Hissing through the pain, you did your best to stifle the warm blood with your palm. It still dripped slowly onto the pavement as you scrambled into another alleyway. Copper hazily fogged your sense of smell as you tried to focus on anything but the wound. You needed a plan.

Quickly.

Another bullet thudded into the brick wall above your head as you willed your strained body to move once again. Blood, too much blood had been lost as you could feel the edges of your vision begin to flicker with black spots. Still, hope flickered in your chest as you caught sight of the familiar brass lettering of the gateway, all it was going to take was a few more steps.

“Fuck.” The curse spilled from your lips half spoken and half in a howl as a bullet tore through your lower left leg. Your sharp nails dragged into the concrete below as you tried to pull yourself forward, even with the numbing sensation spreading throughout your body.

“Could have made this all the easier if you had given us the damn-” The goat sinner growled as you felt the cool tip of the gun brush over the tops of your ears. His words muddled as you feebly tried to shrink away from the weapon. His mocking laughter rang in your head as you weakly held on the satchel as it was ripped from your form. The noise stuttered to a halt as the pointed tip of a knife protruded from his eye, warm blood dripped onto your cold form as you could hear the soft shake of an umbrella.

“Now, now that isn’t necessary.”

“You crazy bi-”

Another shriek pierced the air as the packed earth beneath you rumbled like a startled beast. Something wrapped around your midriff as it pulled you forward toward the gateway. You could feel the unintentional prick of thorns over your skin as the thing shuddered protectively before carefully setting you upright, still supporting you about your waist.

Vines? You blinked rapidly trying to clear the fog from your vision as you lightly brushed over the foliage. Yes, vines as the thing shuddered as you accidentally pricked yourself on a sharp thorn allowing dark blood to drip over its’ green-brown ‘flesh’.

“Now let’s take a look at you, looking a bit peaky, my little Bichon.”

“Rosie?”

Her gentle smile was the last thing you saw as the world was blanketed in darkness.

Soft. Warm. Too warm. You jolted upward as hot fire ripped through your chest from the exertion. Fuck, that was right, you had been shot, your sharp nails digging into your chest felt like a gentle caress compared to the throbbing muscle beneath it.

“Now, now. Let’s not be hasty.” The gentle voice was melodic in your ears as Rosie’s hands gently removed your tensed nails and held your paws in her own. You tried to speak, but your dried lips went mute as Rosie fussed over you. Holding cool water to your lips as you eagerly wet your parched throat. The back of her hand on your forehead as she tried to gauge the potential on-set for a fever.

She was taking care of you.

In her personal quarters.

In her bed.

“I removed the bullets, don’t fret. Seems like you are already healing up from that little misadventure, lamb.” Rosie tutted as she could see your eyes bounce around the room. It was surprisingly sparsely decorated.The bed, a modest wardrobe, a single bouquet of flowers in a crystal vase on the bedside table. The vase inhabits some sort of snapdragon that flared out with bright crimson petals.

The cool sheets did little to hide your flaming face as Rosie chuckled at your poor attempt to burrow yourself further under the cotton sheets. Anything to hide the pure scalding embarrassment of the disastrous day and having to be rescued by the Overlord of all people.

“Honestly, those interlopers must have been desperate to get after you for entering the Town uninvited. Whatever could have set them off.” Rosie questioned as you muttered an answer in a half-hearted explanation about Greed Ring loan sharks and bills. Or well coming due problems as you got a split second glance at the material when it was thrown back at your face.

“Ruffians. The lot of them. Going after my little Bichon like that. Well, Miss Tufele and Mr.Remius were delighted to have the late lunch-in. Gave me the most lovely of little tea cakes that we’ll-”

“I am sorry for causing you problems. Miss Rosie. It’s not becoming of my -”

“Hush.”

Your apology was cut off by a single finger against your muzzle as you went mute as commanded. Delicate, she was so gentle towards you as sharp nails brushed over your face. Treating you with as light a hand as a new sprout ready to be transplanted into the outside soil. Now a different sort of heat brushed through your fur, a slow warm ooze that started from the tips of your ears down to your toes. All because of a simple chaste kiss on your black snout as Rosie’s fingertips ghosted over your alert ears.

“Rosie, can I-”

“Oh, sweet Bichon, even in your injured state of are all manners” Rosie teased as your tail wagged at the flirtatious inflection in her tone. Her girlish giggles were like the chimes of the most delightful bells as your lips met for a proper kiss. Short, sweet and to the point as her perfume fluttered over your form. She always did smell delightful, but now up close, it was like a banquet. Sweet smelling vanilla and the gentle notes of roses. The faintest taste of copper as you leaned in to deepen the kiss, , but at the same time you whined as your injured flesh twinged from the movement.

The sharper sound ended the kiss quickly as Rosie clucked her tongue at your hasty actions.

“Now, there will be time for that later.”

You couldn’t help but sink dramatically into the pillows with a sigh as Rosie patted the top of your head with a chuckle.

“I promise.” Rosie muttered against the top of your ears as the sensitive things twitched from the brush of warm air against them. Still, you did as she asked and gave her a winning smile which she winked at.

“Well, this is a change. Usually I can’t get you to sit and stay for the briefest second of calm. Always underfoot like a cat in the kitchen wanting to help me with something. Although, I do have a request, next time, show up at my doorstep unbloodied, bichon.” Rosie hummed as she flitted around the room. Opening up the window to let fresh air inside as the low rays of the sunset crept into the interior.

“I’ll promise, Miss Rosie. Thank you..for..the..exciting day..” You promised as Rosie smiled that gentle sincere smile that made your heart flutter like a Hellhound pup over a bone.

“Think nothing of it, Bichon. Now how about a bit of tea?”

That’s how you spent the next few days. Sending apologetic letters to clients about needing to recuperate from unexpected delays. A few hesitant steps around the garden, Rosie on your arm giving encouragement. Piping hot tea and the little ginger cakes that you got to howl your praises over. Most memorable was the gentle kiss on your cheek as you left, satchel on your shoulder and a promise to come visit within the next few days.

Things were looking up in Hell.

#rosie x reader #x reader fic #x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #silverinkwrites

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ur-dad-satan · 11 months ago

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Daddy (sub!MamxM!MC) kinky

4k words, 18+, MDNI, enjoy <3

Includes omorashi kink, face fucking, anal sex, face painting, fluffy praise

This is a kinky smutshot featuring choking, omorashi, handcuffs, praise, and dom!MC. If you don't know what omorashi is, it's basically a piss holding kink. I understand that it's not for everyone so feel free to skip this one. I'll write another MammonxM!MC eventually.

*.*.*.*.*.

MC had been in the Devildom for a while now and he knew that there was something about Mammon from the first time they met. MC could see right past the facade of "money-grubbing scumbag". He knew that the second eldest had more to him than what people said about him, and the side he showed to everyone. No one - not even a demon - could take being bullied by everyone around them without at least feeling a little bit bad. Luckily, MC saw through it. MC broke Mammon's shell. There was many a night where Mam had a rough day and the only way he felt better was to cry in MC's arms. Since that first night Mam showed his true colors, MC would stand up for him whenever someone would bully him. This extended to his brothers as well.

Things came to a head the day Mammon was getting yelled at by Lucifer over skipping his last class one day. He had felt ill, and MC came home with him to make sure he didn't get worse. By the time Lucifer had found out, Mam had taken medicine and started to feel better, but not by much. When Lucifer barged into Mammon's room where he and MC were watching a movie, he started to scream and swear at Mam so loud that all five of the younger brothers gathered outside of Mammon's door. Mammon was stone faced while taking the verbal assault, but MC knew he was hurting. He shouldn't have to take this whether he was sick or not. So, MC stepped in between the angry demon and his brother. MC used his pact to make Lucifer stop talking and laid into him. MC's mouth was fouler that the avatar of Pride's surprising all seven demon brothers.

Three things changed that day. 1. The little bros were now afraid of MC. Not even Diavolo would have spoken to Lucifer the way he had. 2. Lucifer respected MC a little bit more than he ever thought he would. And finally, 3. Mammon fell in love with MC, and he fell hard. To this day, Mammon and MC were dating.

*.*.*.*.*.

Fast forward to the present day, Mammon, MC, Beel, and Simeon were all heading to their last class for the day. The class was over an hour long and Mam's worst class. Both of them had been overburdened with all of the student council work on top of all of their schoolwork and preparing for their finals. Neither of them could remember the last time they hung out without the pressure of homework, projects, or some type of other work pressing down on their shoulders. Suddenly, MC got an idea in his pretty little head. Before the class started, MC went up to the teacher and told her that he wasn't feeling well and told her that he would get the notes from Simeon and needed Mammon to walk him home. The teacher wrote herself a note saying that he was going home and excused both MC and Mammon.

"Mam, I'm not feeling well, and the teacher said you can walk me home." MC said in Mammon's ear. Worry immediately washed over the white-haired demon's face and he shot out of his chair.

"Are you okay, Treasure? What's wrong?" Mammon asked worried about his boyfriend. He gently held onto MC's sleeve as they walked over to Simeon to ask if they could borrow his notes the next day to which he happily agreed. MC told Beel that they would be leaving and the two of them started to walk out of the school. "MCCC you never answered my question. What's wrong? Why don't you feel well?" Mammon asked now holding onto MC's arm as they walked.

"Honestly? I lied. I feel fine. I just needed a cover for us to skip so Lucifer won't get mad. We're gonna go spend some time together, Pet." MC explained. Mammon blushed a little at the nickname but nodded in understanding.

*.*.*.*.*.

Once the two got home, they checked the others' rooms to make sure no one was home; afterward, they grabbed some snacks from MC's secret stash and went to Mammon's room. MC knew that Lucifer would probably discreetly look for proof of illness, so they both blew their noses into a bunch of tissues and poured out a little bit of medicine to make it seem like he had taken some before starting their movie and eating their snacks.

The two watched movies, ate snacks, and cuddled for a while before the while some innocent vibes took a sharp left.

"Ugh, can you pause the movie, babes? I have to go to the bathroom." Mammon asked and tried to get up.

"No." MC said and held him tighter.

"C'mon, MC. I gotta piss." Mam whined.

"Then you're gonna have to hold it." MC replied and kissed his boyfriend's neck. Mam blushed and muttered a 'fine' under his breath before snuggling up to MC again. It only took fifteen minutes for Mammon to start squirming.

"MC, please. I really gotta piss." Mammon whined and tried to get up. MC's grip didn't falter, and he continues holding the demon down.

"Then hold it, Pet." He said in a sweet voice.

"I can't. I really have'ta go." The white-haired demon said. He finally got his torso free and could sit up.

"How about we play, then. Let's make a bet." MC offered. Even though he couldn't see, MC was almost certain his eyes had a glint of competitiveness in them as his body language changed. After all, Mammon loved bets.

"What kind've bet?" Mam asked skeptical. MC sat up as well and wrapped his arms around Man's mid-section under his shirt. Fuck he was fit. Not too muscular, but just enough to know he was strong. MC pulled him close before speaking again.

"If and only if you can hold it until I tell you that you can go, I'll fulfill one wish. Nothing is off the table within our boundaries. Whatever you want. So, we have a deal?" MC proposed. Mammon took a minute to think it over before giving MC an answer. Somehow, he felt like there was going to be some type of catch, so he asked.

"There's a catch, ain't it?" Mam asked. Sometimes, very rarely, MC cheated in their little bets.

"Of course." He laughed. "We're just gonna play a little bit while you hold. Okay?" MC sat up on his knees and moved his hands to drape loosely around Man's neck. He kissed the demon's cheek while he decided on whether or not he wanted to participate.

"Alright. Ya got a deal." Mam smiled. He couldn't say no to the love of his life especially when it meant that he could be this close to him for a little while longer.

"Seal it with a kiss?" MC asked innocently. Mammon let out a tiny laugh and pecked his boyfriend's lips. "Ready for your rules, Mam?" He asked getting up.

"Yeah okay." Mammon was clearly only half listening now. That's something they would have to fix. MC held out his hand for the white-haired boy to take and guided him to stand beside his bed.

"I only have three rules for you, alright, Love?" MC prefaced. He kissed Mam's forehead to make him pay attention. "First, you're not allowed to touch yourself. I know how hard it makes you when you hold your piss like that." MC kissed his neck right below his jaw to punctuate his statement. The feeling brought Mammon reeling back to the present. His arms snaked around MC's waist and pulled the human closer to himself.

"Ya know me so well, what's next?" Mam asked burying his face in MC's neck. MC stroked his head and cupped his face on one hand.

"Second, you can only call me 'sir' 'daddy' or one of our little names. Third, if you piss yourself before I tell you to," MC started. He made sure that his mouth was right next to Mam's ear before dropping his voice seductively and practically whispering "I'm going to fuck you until you see stars. Got it?" He once again punctuated himself with a kiss to Mam's ear. His body shuddered and he inhaled sharply before he pulled away a bit to look into MC's eyes.

"Yeah, I got it." Mam said and started to look away. MC kissed Mam's lips once more but this time, it was far steamier. This kiss was no quick peck as the previous had been. This one kiss turned to many. Their hands ran all over each other and MC pulled Mam closer. The more they kissed, the needier Mammon got. Swept up in the moment, the demon boy took MC's shirt off. MC pulled away with a quick peck to his nose and grinned mischievously.

"Strip. Down to your boxers." MC commanded. Mammon, still caught up in the moment, started to take his clothes off immediately. He stood in front of MC in nothing but a pair of black boxers and the blush painting his beautiful dark skin. "Good boy." MC complemented. Almost as if to remind Mammon of what got them to this stage in the first place, his bladder throbbed making him squeeze his thighs shut.

"Ah, fuck," The demon exclaimed in half surprise and half arousal. MC smiled a small smile.

"On your knees. Where did we put the handcuffs, pretty?" MC asked and started walking towards Mammon's bathroom.

"They should be in my top drawer next to the sink." The boy on the floor called out. "Oh! look in the linen closet in there and get the new white box. It's a mat that soaks up water so cleanin' up is easier." MC nodded in acknowledgement and got those two things.

"You're so smart, Mam." MC complemented while grabbing the things they would need to have fun. Mammon blushed a bit darker at the sweet words. MC complemented him all the time, but it always took him by surprise. MC came back soon after and kissed Mammon's forehead before he stood up to help MC set everything up. Once the mat was spread out on the floor with Mammon kneeling on top of it with a desperately uncomfortable look on his face, MC smirked. "Are you ready for handcuffs, my pretty boy?"

"Yes, Sir." Mam said, his face and body language both changed to reflect how much he was trying to hold his piss. Don't get him wrong, he loved being fucked by MC, but he wanted to do good and get praise. Just thinking about what he could get MC to do if he could just hold it long enough made him hard. MC only noticed how hard he was getting after securely locking his hands behind him.

"Excited already, aren't you?" MC asked. He leaned down and kissed Mam's neck, savoring the taste of his gorgeous golden-brown skin. Mam's body relaxed and he moved his head to allow his partner more access to make him feel good. He still didn't want to let it out yet, so he squeezed his thighs once more. His breath quickened a bit as his tent grew even more to full mast. MC kneeled down on his knees beside Mam and kissed his pretty lips. The human's hands ran all over Mammon's body; one gingerly stroked up and down Mam's back making him squirm while the other squeezed and prodded at one of Mammon's thighs. The hand on the demon's thigh worked its way higher, barely touching Mam's hip before resting on his lower stomach right above his bladder.

"Please MC, I gotta pee so bad. Can I please go?" Mammon moaned into the kiss. His voice has become more needy and desperate as he barely tries to move to get MC to touch his dick.

"Not yet, and what was rule two?" MC pulled away and grabbed his face with the hand that wasn't on his abdomen.

"Really?" Mam asked exasperatedly. MC pressed down on Mammon's bladder making him moan, whimper, and jump to try to get away from the pressure; it didn't work though. Tiny droplets of piss started to dot the fabric of his boxers and his breath caught in his throat.

"Yes, really."

"Ah! P-please, sir! Can I please piss? I can't hold it." Mam moaned and kept squirming. MC smiled evilly and stopped pressing Mam's bladder.

"Good boy, but no, you can't. Don't forget what'll happen if you do." MC kissed MC's neck once more and he moaned.

"Pressin' my bladder should be considered cheatin'." Mammon complained. MC kissed him once more before a smirk crossed his face.

"Are you gonna keep complaining? Because I'll make you piss yourself and fuck you silly if so." MC grabbed Mam by his chin causing him to blush like mad. It was one of his weaknesses that only MC knew about, and they both intended to keep it that way. Mammon started bouncing as a tiny bit of piss dripped from his boxers once more. He let out a moan and willed the hot wet liquid to stop from spilling all over his boxers and himself.

"Fuck, Baby, please! I'm gonna piss all over myself." The demon pleaded, but MC's expression changed to an innocent one before speaking.

"So, you're giving up on our bet? Just like that?" MC asked.

"N-no! I just ca-can't hold it much longer." Mam stuttered out desperately. MC had him exactly where he wanted him. The human pressed on Mam's bladder once more. The pressure made Mammon moan in pleasure as hot piss drenched his black boxers. The wetness made the fabric stick to his skin and the heavy breathing and exasperated 'no no no's' coming from Mammon made MC just as hard. Mam moaned out small curses under his breath as he winded down from such an embarrassing display.

"Tsk tsk tsk. What a shame. You broke rule three." MC said sarcastically but also a bit sympathetically.

"You're a cheater." Mam said frustrated and horny with a hint of sadness in his voice. MC cooed and kissed his forehead.

"I don't think I cheated. I think I simply... rushed the inevitable outcome, don't you think? We can stop if you would like to, though." MC said the second part in all sincerity. He may have wanted to fuck Mammon, but his comfort and wellbeing was much more important than MC's horniness.

"Nah, just know I'm gonna have to get ya back for this." Mammon said as his signature crooked grin spread across his face. He truly was a work of art.

"Cuffs on or off, beautiful?" MC asked and kissed Mammon's head.

"Off, please. I wanna use my hands." MC slid off his pants while Mam was talking, leaving him in his boxers just like his boy.

"Okay, love. But first, I'm gonna keep you like that for a little while longer. I wanna fuck your pretty mouth." MC said and used his hand to gently guide Mam's mouth toward his clothed erection.

Mammon looked up through beyond the white hair that fell just above his eyes as he mouthed and kissed MC's hard cock through his boxers. The human stroked his boyfriend's face while he licked against the fabric. MC pulled down his boxers exposing himself completely and rubbed his dick against Mam's wet lips before placing the tip in his mouth. Almost like it was an instinct, Mammon licked and sucked the tip just the way MC liked. He let out small moans and grabbed the back of the dark-skinned demon's head and began to slowly push is up and down his dick. Mammon's hot wet mouth felt like heaven on MC's big hard cock.

The sensation felt way too good for MC to not have his way with his boyfriend's mouth, so he did. He held Mammon's head with his hands as he began to thrust into his mouth. MC's cock hit the back of Mam's throat and made him gag a bit, but neither man cared too much. Gradually, MC increased in speed until he was fucking Mammon's throat at the perfect speed. He pounded and pounded; thrusted and thrusted as Mammon was letting out gags and small moans. He loved being used like that. MC shoved his cock all the way down Mam's throat until his nose was touching MC's groin and his eyes were watering like he was cutting onions. When MC pulled it out, Mam caught his breath just enough before MC tackled him in a kiss.

"Good job. You take my dick so well." MC complemented between kisses. He got back down to Mammon's level and kissed him once more before grabbing the key to the handcuffs and unlocking his dainty wrists. MC placed the handcuffs on the bed side table and kissed the front and back of both of Mammon's wrists just as he always did. "Because you were such a good sport, I'll let you choose the first position, pet. What will it be?" MC happen Mam up and out of his wet underwear leaving him beautifully bare. Mammon thought for a second before getting up on his bed and put his ass in the air.

"Doggy, please." He requested as a blush spread across his face. MC laughed lightly at how eager Mam was as he grabbed the lube from the bedside table.

"Are you ready? Fingers first." MC said and spread the gel across two of his fingers. Mammon nodded his head and arched his back to give MC better access to his hole. MC gently kissed Mam's lower back then one of his ass cheeks before gently pressing one finger in his ass. Mam let out a small gasp and buried his face in the blanket on the bed. MC pumped his finger in Mammon's ass a bit before adding a second one. Mam moaned more and every little noise that he made, made MC more and more horny. He wouldn't be able to wait much longer for Mam to get prepped. The only way Mam would be absolutely prepared quick enough is if he had prepared ahead of time, which he didn't. As if reading MC's mind, Mam spoke up.

"Please, just fuck me." Mammon asked not being able to take the slowing teasing motions.

"Are you sure, baby boy?" MC asked. Mam nodded his head and moaned out a small please. MC smiled at his adorable boyfriend and stood up off of the bed. He grabbed Mam by the thighs and pulled him close. MC's hard cock rubbed against the demon's asshole before he slowly pushed into it. Both men moaned a bit with the tan-skinned man's voice being louder. MC moved slowly to allow Mam to adjust to his size. Despite being a demon and a human, their bodies were pretty similar in terms of genitalia. Demon penises and vaginas looked almost exactly like humans' with some differences depending on the demon.

"F-uck." Mam moaned quieter than before. MC pulled out almost all the way before slowly pushing in completely. Another of Mammon's moans leaked from his lips; it was music to MC's ears. MC started moving faster, making the boy on the bed moan more and more.

"My Diavolo, you're doing so good, baby. Such a good boy for me." MC gripped Mammon's hips and started pounding into him. Breathy moans and swears leaked from the white-haired boy's pretty mouth and it made MC fall more and more in love with him. "I wanna see your pretty face. Turn over for me." MC requested and pulled out completely. Mam quickly caught his breath and flipped over to lay on his back. MC pulled him closer and leaned down to kiss him. Their lips dance together, and the demon's arms wrapped around MC's neck to bring him closer. MC lined himself up with Mam's hole once more and plunged into him. Fuck, he felt so good.

MC thrusted into him again and again while kissing his lips and face. Every little movement made him whine, made his breath hitch, made his face go redder, and made his heart pound. MC pulled back and looked Mammon in the eye. His pupils were dilated, his cheeks were tinted pink, and a thin layer of sweat had started to form on his soft skin.

"You're so pretty, baby." MC complemented as he was balls deep inside Mammon. Mam blushed at the complement and tried to respond but MC pounded into him making him moan loudly instead. One if Mam's hands shot out and gripped the blanket under him as his ass was getting railed.

"M-more! Don't stop!" Mammon whined out. A hungry look flashed in his eye and in an instant his appearance changed. Black spiral horns sprout from his messy white hair, and he had to sit up so he could free his wings from under him. Black and white bat like wings sprouted from his back. No matter how many times MC saw them, he always looked at them in awe. MC's pace slowed as he changed his focus to Mam's wings. His thrusts became more rhythmic, and he thrusted deeper as he gingerly runs his fingers over the wings. His touch makes Mam shiver in pleasure. His face tinted darker, and his dick jumped; he didn't know why, but whenever MC touched his wings, he would react like MC was stimulating his sweet spot.

"I'll never get over how amazing you are." MC said dreamily. Mammon's eyes darted away, and a small smile appeared on his face.

"O-of course I'm- UGH- amazin' I'm the Great Mammon!" He said between moans. Even when he was getting his ass pounded, he was still confident as ever. Fuck, MC was so in love.

"How about you show me exactly how great you are, pretty boy." MC said and kissed Mammon before pushing himself all the way in and gripping Mam's thighs. His arms shot up and around MC's neck as MC pulled him up and off of the bed. MC's hands moved to his lower back.

MC stumbled to a wall and pushed Mammon up against it. He adjusted himself once again to a more comfortable stance and started to fuck Mammon against his wall. Mam bounced on MC's dick with pure bliss across his face. He tried to hide his face in MC's neck, but MC beat him to the punch. MC started to kiss and suck on Mammon's neck and chest making sure to leave bites and bruises in his wake. Some of them would be visible, but MC knew that no one would say anything, and if Mam wanted to cover them up, Asmo would help without a single question.

"MC I-I'm gettin' so close." Mam moaned. One of his hands shot down to his hard dick and went to work. His breath quickened and his moans became a constant string. MC was starting to get close to his orgasm too, so before either of them could cum, MC got one more idea. The human secured the demon in his arms once more before taking Mammon back to the bed. MC kissed his lips once more before turning Mammon on his stomach propping his ass up for easy access.

"One more position." MC said, his voice low and gruff with lust and breathy. MC put his dick in Mam's ass one more time and started thrusting as hard and fast as he could knowing that he wouldn't hurt his demon boyfriend. Mammon's moans steadily got louder when MC leaned down and grabbed Mammon by the throat and pulled his back to be against his chest. The demon's face was completely flushed, and his body was shaking lightly.

"F-f-FUCK!!" Mammon moaned against MC's hand against his throat.

"What's my name, baby boy?" MC asked; his empty hand shot down to replace Mammon's on his hard dick leaking precum. MC stroked his dick, gently choked him, and kissed and sucked on his neck; that specific spot where his jaw met his neck was his sweet spot. Any and everything that happened right there immediately sent Mammon into overdrive and that included how much MC was sucking and biting right there.

"D-daddy," Mammon moaned lowly. MC tightened his grip just a bit, so Mam's breathing and moans came out slightly wheezy.

"Say it again." MC commanded and thrusted into Mammon even deeper hitting his prostate making Mam moan the loudest he had the entire afternoon.

"D-DADDY! DADDY! DADDYYY!" Mammon practically yelled as hot sticky white strands of cum shot out of Mammon's cock. His body shook with intense pleasure as his asshole pulsed and he rode out his orgasm with MC still pounding his prostate. Mammon's pretty moans were the only thing heard aside from MC's ragged breath. MC was almost at his tipping point so he let Mammon down and helped him turn around so he could paint his face like he's Mona Lisa.

"You're so fucking good, baby." MC said looking down at Mammon's pretty red face before cuming all over it. MC's moans echoed around the room as Mammon laid there catching his breath and having an occasional residual tremble from his mind-numbing orgasm. Once MC caught his breath, he couldn't take his eyes off of Mammon. Despite having his face covered in MC's hot sticky cum that was dripping down his cheeks, he still looked up at the human with big pretty heart eyes and his adorable mischievous grin.

"You taste good." Mammon said in a small voice, grin not wavering. MC leaned down and kissed the top of his head and smiled.

"Come on, let's go take a bath. We need one." MC laughed and went to pick up Mammon bridal style and carried him over to the bathroom. MC drew a nice hot bath and both of them got in. After washing the cum off of Mammon's face, MC peppered it with tiny kisses and small words of affirmation.

"MC... do ya really mean all the stuff you say about me? Y'know me being good and pretty and all that?" Mammon asked absentmindedly playing with one of MC's hands.

"Of course, I do, Mammon. I love you so much, and I always will. I don't care what anybody says, you're a good person and you're so pretty and handsome. You're so smart and kind, and I adore you so very much. I mean every kind thing I've ever said about you because it's all true, and I love you. Don't ever forget it. Okay?" MC ranted and finished with a kiss to Mammon's face and lips.

"I love ya too, MC. Never leave." Mammon said cuddling closer to MC. He was definitely blushing, but MC wasn't going to say anything. After they finished getting clean, the two put on some fluffy pajamas and cuddled up on the couch once more. The rest of the evening, the two watched movies and ate their snacks. As expected, when RAD let out, the brothers had a short meeting with Lord Diavolo for student council things. Afterwards, they came to visit MC and make sure Mammon wasn't being annoying to them or anything.

Mammon was truly so thankful to have met MC and MC was too.

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