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yandere-kokeshi · 7 months

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Pairing: Yandere Succubus! Soap x female reader

Warnings: yandere behavior, doggy style position, creampie (hinted at multiple), possessiveness, mentions of masturbation, inferred voyeurism, mention of blood, implied hypnotism, and that is all.

@ladyxtiger // IS NOT CHECKED FOR MISTAKES! SORRY :(!

It’s too much — his sharp hands with dagger claws, gripping at your waist and the ownership growls in your ear, how close your body is to his, it’s all too much.

You whimper out, feeling his hot yet long tongue, the thick muscle of his dragging against the of your bottom jaw from behind.

Crying out, you dug yourself further and bit into the pillow, hands scuffing the fabric between your sweaty hands; feeling his thick cock sliding through your cum-soaked folds, before nudging his hard tip back inside for the nth time.

“Don't hide yer moans, lemme’ hear ‘em” Johnny purred in your ear, licking the shell of it before pushing deeper into your soaked cunt.

To say you felt full was an understatement. Everything, including your pussy, was pulsing with heat and unfulfilled lust — the prior orgasms finally catching up with you, and your nerves becoming overstimulated.

You never meant to find Johnny, your hot and of a gentleman neighbor, to be a damn succubus. You would’ve never thought so, but you had suspicions. Whenever you were near him, his eyes always had a glow, a vicious pink, especially at night. And let’s not forget about how every other night, he brought new girls home, their moans, and his heavy balls slapping against their slippery pussy could be heard from the thinned walls beside your bed.

Of course, you couldn’t help yourself. Fingering yourself, moaning his name at your imaginative brain whilst palming your needy breasts. And yet, his eyes always seemed brighter the next day when you saw him.

But, when a few days, turned into a full week of not seeing your hot neighbor — you got worried. But soon found, when you unlocked his apartment door, rushing into his bedroom to find him fucking a pocket pussy; moaning your name as his devilish tail was swirling against his thick thigh.

His horns were long and curving, his fangs and long tongue were of a curse — the slitted eyes, once bright blue, now glowing a pink of hypnosis. Promises he’d treat you well, better than your damn fingers, and toys.

And that’s where it led you: stomach down, legs forced apart to show your puffy cunt, and the tightening tail of his that was wrapped around your lower thigh.

It burned. But the need for satisfaction was burning more.

“Such a good girl f’r me, so pretty,” he panted out, his thickening breath breathing on the side of your cheek. Oh, G-d, he was addictive.

You scream as he speeds his pace, balls slapping against your cunt as you let out a choked moan, jolting forward, face-first into the soft bed.

“Hnggg, no,” you whine, barely able to catch your breath.

The pressure is building up inside of you too quickly, making you squirm. But his claws help your hips in place, groaning whilst making his cock throb from your tightening cavern; warm walls trying to suck him deeper, to keep him seated inside your heat as he slid back out before going back in.

The pressure was too much, and you squeal as clear liquid gushes out, squirting all against Johnny, who releases a cocky chuckle; “Guess yer’ jus’ as obsessed, Bonnie, huh?”

The only sound that came out of you was a defeated whine as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge yet again. He could feel it, and he was relishing the feeling of your cramping walls.

You have no idea how long Soap has been pounding into your sopping pussy, and you’ve lost count of the number of orgasms he’s wrung out of your exhausted (and used) body. You’re tired, sweaty, and a complete mess with suffocating heat along your body.

But, he’s not done with you — not even close.

“Your coworker… fuck—!” he curses, putting his mouth on your neck before sucking in a few hickies, “Hated his smell on you, gghmg—” his words trail off into a moan. At last, your nth orgasm hit you like a train, and you scream in pure bliss; seeing white as your ears vibrated.

Johnny reached down to grind his thumb against your clit, lengthening your orgasm until tears are running down your face.

“Such a Bonnie, all f’r me. It's all fr’me, and I ain’t sharin’,”

You nod, not taking his words into consideration as you were whimpering out — his devil tail tightening around your aching muscle before speeding up. You feel Johnny begin to twitch inside of you, and his fangs deepen its affection into your already-bloody-stained neck.

“Jesus. Y’re gonna be the death o’ me!” and just as he said that, you felt hot ropes of cum coating your insides. It sends you into a drug induced frenzy, and you cum again — his love-filled pupils widening as you drench the bed below you.

You cum so much you think you lost consciousness for a few seconds, and when you finally open your eyes to look at the incubus, who is behind you, to find him smirking.

“I… tired,” you butchered out, brain short-circuiting.

He hummed, licking his lips as he heaved heavily, “Oh, M’ sorry baby. Guess I forgot to tell you about our promise, did I?”

You scrunched your eyebrows together at his statement, and his smirk only widened. He leaned in, his sweaty back resting against yours, and his tail tightening, and it sent shivers down your spine as his breath echoed against your ear.

“I ain’t stoppin’ till you drench of my scent, you little Minx.”

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

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fernsproutxx · 8 months

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decided to basically redraw this post because i knew i could do better anatomy wise, plus added some extras!

“my dad used to be a rockstar, but he retired to take care of me.” — gregory

i like to think that compared to other adult bears in the springdad au, freddy here simply has features that resemble more of a bear cub like evan hahah, i mean, have you seen henry¿ that is a proper bear head to toe, but on fred’s case… he just didn’t grow out of his baby face kekw

man i love drawing furries.

another small bonus:

(i imagine that alice would know of freddy since she too was in the performing scene once upon a time hah)

the springdad au is made by @skeletoninthemelonland! go check em out :D

#tbh i’m up to changing freddy’s first name #since it’s not that original #though i like it a lot #because i clearly based it on freddie mercury’s original name hah #i actually had queen’s music on loop while drawing these #specially radio ga ga #my art #fnaf #springdad au #glamrock freddy #fnaf gregory #springtrap #springdad au alice

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imagine-shenanigans · 3 months

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sighs dramatically.

Okay but the ghost distribution system as we call it is hysterical but can we tlak about how None Of The 141 are built to date.

Like, sure, Gaz is great at flirting, and he's charming, but DATES? He's the type who asks you on a date because he thinks youre pretty/handsome/adorable/etc but by the time the two of you actually go on a date he's ready figured out like. the whole rest of your lives together. He's already imagined up 20 different scenarios of different dates, stalked your front-facing social media and found your secret or hidden accounts that theoretically don't link back to you. Sure, he's scrounged through your discord servers and your private messages and texts and a thousand other things while he was bored on leave. He knows enough to know that he's happy with what comes next. All dates are simply... ritual at this point? Something obligational, other than the fact he gets to spend time with you.

You're not going anywhere, he's just the least heavy handed of them, the one who'll let you think its your choice to keep him around until he's got his ring officially on your finger. Life won't go according to plan but he's prepared for that too. In his head, you're already married anyway, he's just working his way up to that part. He'll manufacture any scenario to keep you with him, because he wants you to be. And he'll make sure you want to be too.

Soap on the other hand is WAY less tactful about it. He's charming, and he'll take you on dates, sure, but the moment he spots you it's incredibly easy to get obsessed. He immediately drops an arm around you, purring in your ear and talking to you. Doesn't ask you on a date so much as demands it, puts his number in your phone and presses a kiss to your temple, his fingertips squeezing your chin before you leave. God forbid you let him into your home - he'll never leave if you do. Johnny's SUCH a physical guy that while, yes, personality matters, it seals the deal for him the moment he's got his tongue down your throat and his fingers in your pants. Something about the way you settle in against him makes him feel like he's home, and you will never get rid of him.

He's willing to take you on dates if you need more proof, but he won't even pretend like he doesnt already have a copy of your key. Like he's not telling the guys about the bonnie little thing he's going home to - he slips into your apartment/house/etc and into your bed without changing, barely finding time to slip his boots off. Presses one hand to your mouth and just... holds you. He'll fuck you within an inch of your life later when you're less panicked, sure, but he just wants to press his nose to your neck and breathe you in. If his hips rut against your ass, ignore it for now. (Haha... unless? No? okay in a minute then)

Price is just as manipulative as Gaz can be, just as charming as Soap and Gaz too. But he just... doesn't care, just like Simon. There's a reason so many people have Price with like... mail order bride or a "one day you look up and hes your husband" scenario and thats because he's good at what he does. And by that I mean being a husband and pumping you full of kids whether or not its physically possible. (Btw check out Ceil's mail order bride western au its good shit, or Bo's Kingpin Price drabbles, makes me lose it every time.)

He sees you walking about and the MOMENT you do anything remotely domestic - pick up a neice/nephew/babysitting kid/etc and put em on your hip? Rock hard. play peekaboo with a baby across from you at a cafe? pick up after yourself just to be polite to the waitress? he's already stalking you on multiple platforms theres no goddamn way youre getting away from him. He'll figure out where you go in your free time and insert himself there as naturally as possible. He's not particularly hiding what he's doing either - he likes to test you, to see if you notice things missing or moved. If you do, he'll be a little more cautious, use it as reason to drive you into hsi arms. If you don't he jsut views it as all the more reason to take you away - poor thing, you just can't help yourself can you? You're lucky nobody else has got their claws around you, hm?

#price cod #gaz cod #soap cod #cod #strawberry writing

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rustedhearts · 5 months

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santa baby (boxer!steve harrington x fem!librarian reader)

summary: a private christmas lavishly celebrated in the bedroom of hollywood’s new favorite ‘it’ couple.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1993) ✶ christmas carols ✶ main masterlist

tags: fluff; some christmas smut; steve is so rich.

lovely adorable dividers by @chechelia

"santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me. been an awful good girl, santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight."

—santa baby, eartha kitt

malibu, california, december 1993

"And then Nike wants a photoshoot for their new shoe collection. They're requesting you as their face...but, I don't know, the deal is—"

"Angel, grab my lighter, please?"

You stood from your leather swivel chair, pushing it away from the conference table to head toward Steve's gym bag near the door. You pulled his lighter from the front pocket and handed it over to him, just as he slipped a Marlboro between his lips.

"Thanks, honey," he mumbled, reaching out to rub your thigh as you sat back down.

"As I was saying: Nike is offering a quarter mil for the deal, but I think we can squeeze more out of 'em. If they want to make a contract deal with you, we're gonna need more—"

"Who says I want a contract deal with Nike?" Steve interrupted gruffly.

You adjusted the necklace on your chest—a gorgeous golden locket from your first Christmas with Steve. You polished it regularly and kept it in its velvet case when not in use. But it was rare that it wasn't in use.

The meeting had been going on for two hours at this point. You were tired, bored, and already positive Christmas was going to be spent at a photoshoot for Nike in L.A. Your parents called last weekend and asked if they should set a place for you at the dinner table for Christmas—but just like Thanksgiving, you told her it was "unlikely."

And just like Thanksgiving, it broke your heart to hear her sigh.

"You'd be an idiot not to take it, Harrington, c'mon,” Mikey huffed.

Steve slid a glass ashtray closer to his side of the table and tapped his cigarette over the litter. "What d' you think, baby?"

You were still in a daze, fiddling with your necklace and checking the state of your manicured nails. Steve tapped your thigh to break you out of it.

Looking up, you glanced at Mikey quickly—noting his eye roll—before shrugging at Steve. "Oh, um...I don't know."

Huffing, Mikey held out his hand to silence you, and you tried not to burn at the dismissal. "Yeah, Steve, look—"

"You might wanna lower that hand if you wanna keep it, Mike," Steve cooly grumbled, taking another drag of the cigarette.

"Look, Steve, I think it's a good business decision. This is literally my job, man, but you gotta let me do it."

Steve hummed, inhaling through his teeth. When he exhaled, a stream of grey smoke furled from his nose.

"I'll think 'bout it."

He made quick work of stamping out his cigarette, pushing away from the table in his chair as it sizzled out. He pulled your chair out next, holding an empty palm upended for your waiting hand. You slid your fingers in the open space and flashed a small smile, grateful for his comfort in your obvious lack of it.

"Wait, guys—Steve, we're not done!" Mikey called after the pair of you as Steve made a path for the door.

Winding his arm around your shoulders, Steve pulled you in close by the crook of his elbow to plant a kiss on your head. "Ready to go home, angel?"

"Mhm."

Throwing a sly grin over his shoulder, Steve shrugged. "Looks like we’re done, Santorini."

Wrapped in a pair of pink silk pajamas, you lathered smooth vanilla cream over your feet, massaging the soreness from five-inch heels as Steve huffed and puffed over the bedroom carpet with every pushup. He counted under his breath between grunts, face screwed up with exertion. The muscles of his back flexed and tightened with every decline.

"I know—forty-five—you're—forty-six—watchin' me."

Cheeks swelling with warmth, you smiled down at your hands as you smoothed the rest of the lotion in. "Whatever."

Four pushups later, Steve hopped up from the floor and adjusted the front of his boxers, bulging with a distracting amount of fullness. The blue light of the television screen cast a sheen over the end of the bed spread, and Steve crawled over it to flop next to you. You let yourself smile again, reaching out to brush a clump of soft, shampooed hair out of his eyes.

"What's a' matter?" he mumbled into the mattress, cheek squished.

You shook your head, placing the lotion on the nightstand. "Nothing—"

"Don't lie."

A sigh shuttered through you. Fingers approached his hair again, delicately swooping and sweeping through—more a comfort for you than him, though he melted into the mattress.

“It’s silly…I just wish we could spend Christmas together.”

“We are,” Steve replied.

“You know what I mean. Without Mikey and Big, and random endorsement guys, or a million fans screaming and taking pictures. Just us. Like it used to be.” Your voice was smaller than you wanted.

You didn’t realize how sad the prospect of a Christmas spent with strangers and money-hungry people made you. You turned your eyes toward the television as a commercial for Campbell’s soup came on.

Steve stirred on the bed, bringing his cheek to rest on your bare thigh. He kissed it, greedy for the bare, clean flesh scented of bubble bath and shaving cream. His teeth scraped the tender space of your inner thigh and you squeaked.

“I know,” he muttered, pressing another gentle kiss.

A moment of silence passed between you. The television buzzed with muffled chatter and the bright, blaring colors of holiday advertisements. Steve rubbed a rough hand over your soft skin, and you leaned back into the silky pillows against the headboard as you massaged his hair.

“I know what will cheer you up.” Steve tapped your thigh twice before sliding off the bed.

Tucking your legs in, you watched him disappear through the french doors of the closet you shared. He rummaged for a few moments—the roll of drawers opening and closing—before reappearing with a gilded shopping bag stuffed with tissue paper. It was far too neat for Steve’s heavy hands, but the thought of him asking a clerk for gift wrap made you smile.

“For me?” You pressed your hand to your chest and grinned coyly.

Steve placed it on the bed before you. “Well, open it and see.”

“It’s not Christmas ye—“

Steve placed his hands on his hips and fixed you with an arched brow. You plucked the tissue paper from the bag with a giggle. The paper revealed a black shoe box in the bottom of the bag, and once retrieved and placed in your lap, you removed the lid and came to a pair of mint green Mary Jane pumps.

“Oh, Steve,” you cooed, picking one up. It was sleek and gorgeous. “They’re beautiful.”

Steve kept his bottom lip firmly between his teeth to hide his smile. But seeing the warmth that gathered on your face, the brightness in your eyes—Steve wanted nothing more than to keep you this happy for as long as he could.

“Y’ like ‘em?”

“Love them, Stevie. Thank you.” Cradling the shoe close to your chest, you looked up to smile at Steve—but caught the back of him rushing into the closet again.

“Steve? Where are you going?”

“Hang on!”

Paper rustling followed Steve’s wobble as he reappeared with an armful of bags and boxes, some wrapped with velvet bows and others bare. You pressed up to your knees and watched him place them near the small, slim Christmas tree in the corner of your bedroom by the window. He huffed once all were dropped on the floor.

You crawled the length of the bed and peeked over the edge toward the tree. “Those are…all for me?”

Steve always spoiled you, especially on holidays and anniversaries, but this was a new extreme. Maybe it was the few months spent apart earlier this year that made him want to adore you more. A newfound appreciation for you and your love, and a new desire to express it the best he knew how.

“Yeah,” Steve scoffed, pushing his hair away from his forehead. “C’mon, open ‘em.”

“But what about Christmas?”

Steve scratched at the nape of his neck, sighing. The sourness of his expression made you drop back on your heels. He stepped over your presents to come near the end of the bed, hands bracing your cheeks.

“Would you hate me if we celebrated early? Because…you’re right, baby, we won’t be able to spend it alone. Mikey wants me to do all these shoots and stupid shit, and I have trainin’ and shit—“

“Okay,” you interrupted, throwing a sweet smile up his way. “As long as I get you all to myself right now.”

Steve pulled you up, the heel of his palms tucked under your jaw. His mouth devoured yours, tongue and teeth and warm lips. "M' all yours, angel."

When your lips were buzzing and numb from his mouth, Steve hoisted you off the bed and spun you around. Giggles subsided, you took in the array of colors near the tree.

"Well, if it's Christmas then you need your presents, too," you told him, and you scampered off toward the guest room down the hall before he could object.

You returned with your own bags and boxes for Steve—and though you felt terrible that there were half as many, you knew Steve would be just as happy with a sparkly red bow on your ass as his only gift.

And in the true spirit of Christmas, you slipped to the kitchen and concocted an array of lavish snacks and treats meant for the holiday specifically. Wine, champagne, cheeses, expensive French chocolates, cured meats, and you even splurged on a little caviar. Well. Steve did.

You made your own little Christmas in the comfort of your bedroom, clad in a pair of tiny silk pajamas that Steve kept tugging at. You fed him chocolates and licked the remnants from the corner of his mouth, and he wound his fingers in the back of your hair and pulled tight when he just couldn't help it anymore.

"Mm...Steve...let go," you giggled, smushed against his mouth by his iron hold.

Steve chased after your lips with a playful nip. "Nah, I want you...right here." He peppered more firm kisses between words.

Kisses that tasted like rich dark chocolate and bright, bubbly champagne.

"But I want you...oh!...to open some presents, too."

Steve groaned from his place in your neck, nuzzling and licking. "Just a little longer."

You wound your fingers in his hair and laughed, allowing yourself to be pulled into his lap. He tugged you down against him and latched onto your throat. Groans and whines muffled the transatlantic accents of the old Hollywood movie on the tv behind you. Steve’s bulge was stiffening against the satin bow of your pajamas.

“Steve,” you whined. “C’mon, open your g-gifts.”

Steve lifted off your neck with a wet pop, leaving a ring of saliva and swollen tooth marks in his leave.

He rubbed his thumb over the sore patch of flesh and raised his head to catch your eyes. “Fine.”

He kept you planted firmly in his lap as he tore the wrappings and ribbon off various boxes and bags, kissing your cheek and neck and mouth as his own version of gratitude with every one. You wrapped the Ralph Lauren tie around his neck and let it hang loosely, spritzed the cologne on his chest and kissed the seasoned skin, and even stuck a silver bow on the top of his head.

"Thank you, angel," Steve murmured with another gentle kiss. "But you know what my favorite gift is?"

You quirked a brow and slipped your arms over his shoulders. "What's that?"

Steve took the shiny bow from his head and placed it in his palm. You watched as he brought it behind you, a grin toying on your lips while you waited for it to touch your own head. Instead, a resounding smack echoed through the room, and a sting gathered in your ass. Steve smacked the bow on with a heavy hand, and you jolted upright in his lap with a gasp. Grabbing a handful of flesh, Steve gave it a jiggle and grinned sideways.

“You.”

Surging forward, you planted a sticky kiss on his mouth. Steve, unable to contain himself, pushed to his knees and hoisted you with him. Soon, you were splayed flat on the mess of wrapping paper and ribbon, a pair of rough hands working the buttons on your silk. Your fingers dragged through his hair as he tugged your little shorts down, writhing and whimpering as his hot breath fanned new patches of skin.

He drew a line of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, causing your fingers to twist tightly in his hair as your core clenched. His tongue circled your navel, causing you to giggle and twist away, tickled by his hot breath and wet appendage. Steve chuckled at your reaction, wide hands bracing your waist.

He dipped down to place himself between your legs, but you tightened your hands in his hair and tugged him up. Steve furrowed his brows, crawling up toward your face.

“What’s wrong—“

“Nothing, nothing,” you panted, clawing at his firm, muscular chest. “Just want you. Want you now, please, Steve.”

Amusement lightened his features once more, brow quirking up. “Aw,” he chuckled. “You just can’t wait, huh, baby? You need me that bad?”

“Uh-huh! Please, please—“

Steve kissed your babbling mouth, pulling his boxers down. “Shh. It is Christmas, angel. It’d be naughty of me to make you wait.”

You giggled breathily as he hooked your legs over his hips. “R-right. Like that’s ever stopped y—oh!”

Steve pressed until his pelvis pressed against yours, elbows crinkling a bag beside your head as he hovered. His palm cupped over the crown of your head, leveling your gazes.

“It can stop me now, too, honey,” he muttered. “S’ you better be good, hmm?”

“‘M good,” you mumbled, head bobbing up and down. Your thighs were already quaking. “‘M always good.”

Steve gently kissed your mouth again. Another at the corner where your mouth creased, so gentle and sweet.

“Yeah you are,” he whispered.

But enough talking. Steve wanted to devour you, and he snatched at your hands to slide them over your head as his hips began to move. Fingers intertwined and clutching tight, you held on with all your might as he fed pleasure in and out. You did nothing to silence your whines and cries, and he grunted into your neck in time. He was slow and languid, deeper and deeper every time he came back.

“Kiss me, kiss me, please,” you huffed with need.

Steve slid his mouth across your cheek and latched onto your own. You sighed against his lips with relief. Moans echoed into each other’s mouths, refusing to release the other as his thrusts grew frantic.

When he spilled into you, he gasped sharply against your cheek. You shuddered and writhed as warmth flooded you, and stroked his hair lazily when he fell down.

“Christ,” he groaned, cheek squished against your chest. “Fuckin’ Christmas angel.”

You giggled breathily and kissed his temple. “I think that was all you, handsome.”

Steve snickered, nipping at your breast and causing you to squeal. “I’ll take that. C’mon, flip over. Wanna play with you a ‘lil more.”

“Steve,” you laughed, and he lifted up to frown.

“Come on, angel, it’s Christmas,” he huffed.

“Only if I get to wear some of my new stuff.”

Steve immediately sat back, wiping sweat from his head. “Fuck yeah, baby. C’mon, go, go.”

He smacked at your ass as you crawled toward your new lingerie piled near the tree, and you fell into a mess of giggles as you collected them.

You scampered into the bathroom, and Steve chuckled to himself when he heard all your giggling. He snatched the bottle of champagne from the floor and poured another glass, easing back on his elbow to watch the door for your appearance. He grabbed the Polaroid from the bench at the end of the bed and pulled it open, aiming for the door.

When you appeared, the flash shuttered through the room like a white snap. Steve tossed the Polaroid toward the mess of gifts beside him and grinned as you twirled.

“Look beautiful, baby. C’mere, lemme get a better look.”

You crawled your way over in a ruffled mint green teddy and matching panties, and Steve snapped another photo of your arched back.

An early Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

#rolly!#boxer!steve harrington #boxer!steve #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader

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webslingingslasher · 1 year

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I Swear I Don't Know Who That Man Is

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Genre: fluff/angst

Word Count: 5K

Summary: you got wasted and called peter to pick you up, you also don't realize it's him right away.

Peter Parker hates parties.

But, he loves you. That’s why he’s currently allowing his eardrums to burst apart and have his shoulders constantly being checked from the other bodies surrounding him. It’s giving him the type of overstimulation where he wants to throw everyone to the side and scream at everybody to shut the fuck up. Instead he pushes through the crowd and tries his best to find you as quickly as he could.

“Yo Parker! Is that you?”

Peter wants to roll his eyes, how is Tarrent going to look directly at him, use his name even and then follow it up with asking if it is in fact, who he thought. Peter thinks about ignoring him until Tarrents hand claps him on the shoulder and digs his fingers in as he drags him to the kitchen island.

“Parker’s here, pour 'em up!” Tarrent waves his hand at his friend with the bottle, he shrugs and follows instructions. Peter is busy looking around for you.

“Thought you weren’t the party type, Parker.”

Peter grabs the shot from Dalton, the one with the bottle, who poured them at the request of his frat president.

“I’m not really, I’m on boyfriend duty right now.”

Tarrent rips a nearly empty beer can from his lips, foam spilling out and his fingers slightly dented the can in his hold. “Where’s she at? Should I get D to pour a shot?” Peter’s always been confused by Tarrent, he was kind of a dick. Not the intentional type of dick, but the overall stupid dick. He’s always been a fan of Peters, he never let anyone pick on him and always was his buddy when he was in the room.

Peter eyes the shot in his hand, he doesn’t want to do this.

He doesn’t get drunk, unless he drinks an abnormal amount. Instead he just gets to taste all the burn with none of the fun side effects.

“Not sure, she was supposed to get a ride home with Linzey, but then she called me up here.”

Tarrent nods, “Linzey with the tits? They’re honkin dude, you should see ‘em.”

Peter blinks at him, “Yeah, she has boobs alright.”

Tarrent raises his shot glass, “To tits!”

Peter raises his own shot glass, “To tits!” He tries to forget that you would pinch his arm if you heard him say that. Then taps the glass on the counter twice in unison with his friend before throwing it back.

His nose wrinkles slightly, warm vodka was absolutely terrible.

“So, Parker. Wanna play a round of pong?”

Peter thinks he doesn’t know his first name, he’s never once called him it.

“I would but I’ve never played and I have a girlfriend to find.”

Tarrent claps his hands, “Tell you what, you play a round with me and I’ll send D to get your girl. Sound good?”

Peter thinks about it, he really, really doesn’t want to be here but he’s feeling slightly pressured. Not to mention Tarrent’s done a lot for Peter, he’s pulled a lot of cards for him. He’s helped him get into the library after hours, and he even let Peter use his car for a date.

Peter sighs, “Just one round?”

Tarrent waves Dalton off and raises his fists and shakes them, “This is gonna be so lit dude, something tells me you’re gonna win us this round.”

Peter laughs, “I’ve never played.”

Tarrent punches his shoulder, “Beginners luck, man.”

Peter watches Tarrent push away a kid on the cups, even in the middle of a game they both stopped just because Tarrent wanted to play. “Rerack ‘em, Charlie. Parker’s gonna kick ass.”

Tarrent explains the game to Peter quickly, “You shoot a ball and I do, you wanna get them in the cup. You get it in the cup, they drink it and remove it from the triangle. If we both get one in then we get balls back and can reshoot, if we land it in the same cup then they take an extra cup off. You can’t have your elbow go over the edge of the table, however you can bounce the ball and if it lands they’ll take an extra cup, but they can also swat it off the table. If they land a cup and the ball swirls around the cup you can ‘finger it out’, basically how you do your chick, last rule is a redemption, if we win they get an extra shot. If they miss, they lose, if they hit it, our win is canceled out but the game isn’t over.”

Peter nods slowly, “So I just make it in the cup?”

Tarrent smiles, “Exactly, Parker.”

Charlie finishes the rerack, both sides have ten, red plastic cups lined up in a triangle. He looks up to see his opponents, Tom and Terry, twins in Tarrent’s frat. Tarrent holds out his hands, a fist in one palm, Tom copies his move and they start slamming their fists down. “Rock, paper, scissors. Let’s fuckin go, Parker! Watch me.” Tarrent cheers when he wins the game, picking up the white ball he blows on it for good luck and shoots it, it hits in the middle and bounces around the rim before falling off.

“Fuck! You got this, Parker. Win it for your lady!” Tarrent slaps Peter’s chest, the force knocking him off balance for a second.

Peter can’t think of one thing you’d be less impressed with.

Tarrent is a good guy, dumb and sexist and misogynistic but a good guy. He didn’t realize what he was saying was wrong and usually when Peter gently corrected him he took note immediately and changed his language.

Peter decides he’ll give the win to Tarrent. He can easily win this game, no matter how good his opponents are, they don’t have Spidey skills.

He clears his throat and picks up a ball, he focuses on the first one and shoots. It’s a perfect shot.

Tarrent jumps up and howls, “That’s my fuckin guy! Fuck you Tom! Fuck you Terry!”

The game goes back and forth for a minute, Peter choosing to miss some shots to slow the game a little. Otherwise it would be finished in five minutes. Halfway through the pressure gets to Terry, “You can’t hit this, Parker. Just like your girlfriend, you know you always leave her begging for more.”

Peter blinks and tilts his head, “Is that supposed to be trash talk?” He sails the ball into a cup, Tom slaps his brother's head and chugs the now lukewarm beer. Terry’s words made him think, where were you? Dalton was sent to search almost fifteen minutes ago.

Dalton comes running up panting, “So I’m looking all around for you man and I gotta be honest, I have no fucking clue what she looks like. I tried asking every girl if Parker was their boyfriend but there’s too many.”

Peter looks over to Tarrent, he’s heard his pledge and made pleading eyes at Peter.

“C’mon, man. You can’t bolt now, we’re about to win!”

He’s right. With a sigh Peter unlocks his phone and shows Dalton your picture. He examines and nods, “Be right back!” Then turns to break into a half jog, he stops to turn a girl around, that looks absolutely nothing like you, before shaking his head and running back into the house.

He has very little hope.

They won the game with very little surprise on Peter’s end. He nearly got talked into a second game but he was more desperate to find you so he could get midnight mcdonalds and a cuddle. “You sure you can’t do one more?” Peter winces, “Sorry, dude. I gotta find Y/N, she’s probably pissed by now.” Tarrent nods gulping down a beer, “I know how chicks are, I’ll see you Tuesday, Parker.”

Peter smiled and nods his head, “Good game, man. Glad I could get you that win.”

Tarrent gives him a grin back, he’s a little sloshed for sure. He hooks an arm around Peter’s neck, his beer splashed on his sweater on the shoulder. “You know, I really do consider you a good friend, Parker. You’re a good guy.” Peter taps his arm, “Thanks, man. You too.”

Tarrent shoves him away and slaps his ass, “Go find your chick, I’m sure she’s missing you.”

Peter now realizes why it’s taken Dalton so long to find you, he’s not looking.

He estimates Dalton made it three steps in when he spotted a wasted blonde and was busy chatting her up, he made eye contact with Peter and his eyes widened, “Listen man, I’m sorry, okay? I just saw the prettiest girl in my life and I had to talk with her. Also can you please not tell Tarrent? He’ll knock me back four points and Franklin can’t beat me, I have a thousand bucks I don’t have on pledging.”

Peter watches the girl swing her head back and hit the wall, she giggles and sips her drink. He just points at her and looks at Dalton, “She’s wasted. Get her a water and get her home safely. I promise she’ll call you, do the right thing.” Dalton grins and shows Peter his phone, an Uber already ordered. “Like Tarrent says, rule three of Alpha Beta Delta, W.W.P.D. What would Parker Do?”

“Tarrent has a rule dedicated to me?”

“Dude he has a whole fucking powerpoint on it.”

Peter nods his head impressed, turns out he can make an impact outside of the suit.

He pulls out his phone to check the time and sees two missed calls and seven texts, each one getting progressively sadder when you ask where he was. Peter looks up at Dalton and motions to his phone, he understands and waves him off. Peter’s quick to send you a text.

‘I’m here, where are you?’

You read it, your chat bubble appears, then disappears, and then sends nothing.

Peter doesn’t know if you’re in trouble or just mad he was an hour late to get you and ghosted you.

‘baby please tell me where you are, i want to go home.’

You have the same pattern, then a text appears.

‘So did I. An hour ago.’

Peter groans, no one could ever prepare him for a not only drunk, but a pissed off, drunk girlfriend.

‘:(‘

He tries to think of where you might’ve gone. Peter checks the upstairs bathrooms first, then Tarrents room. When he comes up empty he tries outside, both the front and back. Nothing, he’s worried you might’ve left him as a punishment. When he circled the living room for the third time he was hopeless and texted you with no response, he was about to scream until he saw Lindzey. He nearly bolted to her, “Where’s my girlfriend?”

She narrowed her eyes then smiled when she recognized him, “The basement. She’s pretty gone, she said Jarred was giving her the creeps so I came to get her some water.”

“Where is she now?”

Lindzey looks at him funny, “The basement?”

“You left my girlfriend, your friend, alone in a basement with a guy that was giving her the creeps while she’s inebriated?” Peter decided he would never trust her around you again.

She tried to speak but Peter held up a hand and passed by her, quick to get down the stairs, he didn’t even know there was a basement. He was able to breathe easier when he saw you sitting in a chair in the corner swirling a straw in your cup, your feet tapping to the beat of the song.

You looked drop dead gorgeous.

Peter approached you, you didn’t look up at him. You sucked on your straw and chewed at the end, he smiled down on you.

“Hey, trouble.”

In a swift movement you moved to hit the side of your shoe against his, “Out.” You spoke around your straw and kept staring at a poster on the wall. “Huh?” Peter was confused, did you want him out of the room, or the house?

You sighed and kicked again, “I said out!”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh, you were trashed. “Out of where, baby?”

You ripped the straw from your mouth, the ice danced in the cup, at last you snapped your head to look at his face “Listen here, prick.” Your voice was venom, Peter’s eyes widened, he looked around for a second and shuffled closer. In turn you threw yourself back in your chair, “Out means out. Out of my way, out of my space, out of my fucking life.”

You’ve never been this harsh before, he didn’t realize you were this pissed.

He sighs, “Trouble, I’m sorry I-”

You cut him off quickly, “Don’t call me that, ever. My boyfriend calls me that, that’s his word for me. Not yours.”

He can’t help but grin in relief, you didn’t know it was him.

“I don’t see a boyfriend.”

You scoff, “Yeah well if you don’t see a bear shit in the woods doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. He’s on his way, he’s picking me up.”

“How about I take you home sweetheart?”

As serious as you could muster at the moment. You looked dead in his eyes and threatened him, “My boyfriend is gonna beat the absolute shit out of you.” Peter raised his eyebrows, “Oh is he now?” You nod fiercely, “If I ask, he’s so whipped for me he would do anything I want.”

Peter’s offended. He knows it’s true, but damn.

“He’s whipped but left you here alone?”

You nearly clawed his eyes out, “I have no fucking idea why you’re acting like you know anything about him. He’s my boyfriend and he’s picking me up, and I promise you don’t want to be here when he does.”

Peter feels a sense of pride that you’re dropping his name, he made you feel so safe and comfortable that you knew he would drop kick anyone you deemed deserving.

“Okay, sweetheart. Want me to bring you to your boyfriend?”

You scoff and sip your drink, “I don’t think he would want me to leave my spot.”

He wants to give you an atta girl, he’s trained you well enough that when you’re drinking and waiting on him you hunker down until he finds you. He will be looking forever if you’re constantly moving around.

“What if I told you I was told to come get you?”

You look him over with shifty eyes, you don’t trust this man.

“What’s his name then?”

He ignores your question and reaches for the cup you're drinking from, he thinks it’s time you stop. You slap his hand, hard, “Don’t, ever, touch something I’m drinking, okay? Mommy never taught you to keep your hands to yourself, huh?”

Peter rubs at his red hand, “I-“

You dryly laugh in his face, “How fucking entitled to you think you are? I mean really, not to mention you have no fucking clue how to read a room. I’m not interested, you dolt, I have a boyfriend that is gonna come grab me at any second.”

Peter squats so he’s more eye level. He notices the issue, you couldn’t see him. He was backed against the wall and it was shadowed, the second he bent down the window lit up his face.

“Hey, trouble. I am your boyfriend, wanna get home?”

Your eyes lit up with recognition, the moment you saw who you were berating your lower lip trembles. Fat tears pooling in your eyes had Peter panicking, did you still not understand who he was? Has he scared you?

“You’re okay, baby. It’s just me.” He smiles to be non threatening, it doesn’t work. You blink and tears fall, Peter frowns and reaches forward to cup your face, you shrink back further into the seat. The drink clutched to your chest spilled out over your shirt, you ignored it and looked at Peter, shaking your bottom lip at him to hold off sobs.

Peter starts to look around, before placing a palm on your chest trying to sop up the extra liquid into his sweater. You shove his hand back quickly, then raise your knees to hide your chest, wrapping your hands around your legs and cry into your knees.

He’s at a loss for words, he really doesn’t know what’s going on. Are you truly lost and think he’s taking advantage of you? It seemed like you recognized him the second you saw his face. He puts his hand on a knee, you move your leg so his hand falls off, he’s lost.

Peter thinks he needs to find Lindzey, he doesn’t like the idea of leaving you here alone upset, but he can’t seem to figure you out. If you can see your friend and have her willingly say that you are safe and this is your boyfriend then everything should be fine, right?

You have your face hidden from him, he had taken your cup away when it landed all over your front. Peter rests the plastic on the ground, the remnants of ice click. With a sigh he stands, he turns to look up the stairs hoping Lindzey would be coming down any second, if he has a guess though, she’s in Tarrents room watching the ceiling fan.

Peter takes one step and you grab his wrist tightly.

“You’re not leaving me right?”

“Hey!” He gives you a warm smile, like the kind of greeting you get from coming out of your room after a few hours. “What’s got you crying?”

You repeat your words, “You’re not leaving me, right?” You emphasize the right, because you don’t think Peter would do that but you’re not too sure the way you’ve been talking to him.

“I was gonna find Lindzey, are you-“

You jump up instantly using the hand you have on Peter for stability. You’re so close to Peter you almost step on his toes, he’s quick to back up. You take in his movements and start to cry, you shake your head quickly.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t leave me. I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again, I promise. Don’t break up with me, don’t leave me.”

Peter’s face scrunches in confusion, you take it as rejection. You cry harder, you sob so hard people are starting to turn and look. “Hey, c’mere.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you out of the basement but you stick your feet to the ground and shake your head violently. “No! Don’t do this, Peter. I’m sorry! Please don’t!”

He really wants to get you the fuck out of here. It’s dark, cold, loud and crowded. You’re also a nervous wreck that’s not only sobbing but also screaming at him stuck to his side but refusing him to touch you back. You’re also making it sound like he’s about to take you out back and teach you a lesson, he’s trying to think of the nicest way possible to get you to shut the fuck up.

You sniffle and take a deep inhale, then pout at Peter who takes your silence as an opportunity and leans in to talk directly in your ear.

“Calm down, Y/N. Follow me, understand?”

You nod but when he tries to move you stay attached to the ground again, “I said I was sorry, I didn’t mean to, I promise.”

Peter can’t think of a time you’ve been more hammered.

He needs to get you out of here, he tries one last time before he’d be forced to throw you over his shoulder. Peter leans to talk into your ear once more, not mean but stern. “I’m not mad, but I will be if you don’t follow me.” You wipe away any extra tears that had fallen before nodding slowly, you’re trying to not make him mad. He doesn’t know why you think he’s so upset at you.

Peter tries to grab your hand but you cross your arms and sniffle as you follow him up the stairs, he keeps turning every few seconds to make sure you’re still with him. He knows the second he’s able to get you away from the house you’d be able to explain why you were so upset. He’s just so tired and is more than ready to get home so he could sleep next to you, and he’s been so patient with you so far.

It’s rare you make him aggravated. So when you bolt from behind him to hide behind Tarrent he has to take a few deep breaths before he follows you. He doesn’t know why you’re scared of him, he doesn’t know why you were crying, he doesn’t know why you want to hide behind Tarrent. He does know he wants to get the fuck out of here. Peter takes a second for his annoyance to leave, he’s half tempted to pull your arm like a toddler out the door. Kicking and screaming and all.

When Peter finally walks over he’s blocked by Tarrent’s hand.

“What’s going on, Parker?” His tone is accusatory, his side chosen with the teary eyed sniffling girl.

Peter sighs, “Honestly, no fucking clue.” When he looked over at you, you immediately threw your head down to look at your shoes. He leaned in a little closer to Tarrent to speak softly, trying not to set you off again, “I tried to get her to leave but she started crying and freaking out.”

“She doesn’t want to leave with you.”

Peter blinked. Tarrent was supposed to be his friend, why was he taking your side out of nowhere.

“She had me spooked too. I promise everything is okay.” He smiled and went to move around Tarrent to grab his girlfriend, this time Tarrent was more aggressive. “She said she doesn’t want to leave with you, Parker. I won’t make a lady do anything they don’t want.”

Peter is so ready to say fuck it to everything.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, great. Are you going to be getting my girlfriend home safely or will one of your pledges that can barely tie their own shoes be instructed to do so?” Tarrent’s face hardens, “Why don’t you go take a walk, Parker?”

He throws his hands in the air, “Awesome.” He points to Tarrent, “You can take care of it from here.” Then Peter stands near you, you still haven’t said a word or moved an inch. “Have a goodnight, Y/N. I’ll talk to you whenever.”

Finally you speak, it’s a worried tone.

“You’re leaving?”

Peter can’t help himself, he gives a laugh, like he’s the crazy one. Exasperated, he looks at you, “Yeah, baby, I am.” You look him up and down, “Why?” He takes a second to look around the room, he’s expecting cameras to come out.

He doesn’t want to fight but his tone said otherwise.

“Because, Y/N. You called me here to pick you up, then you were mad I was late. Then you wouldn’t tell me where you were because you thought a game of hide and seek would be cute, then when I found you, you started crying and screaming at me. Now you’re hiding behind my friend and he’s telling me you want me to leave. You want me to leave but you want me to stay, which is it?”

Tarrent looks like he’s ready to break up the fight at any second.

You go back to blinking at your shoes, he nods his head with a mumbled ‘fucking awesome’ and started to walk away. Your quivered voice made him stop, you were panicked and upset. He didn’t get why until now.

“So you’re breaking up with me?”

Tarrent looks at him like ‘well, are you?’

Peter can’t stop himself, the confusion spills out.

“Huh?”

“You’re breaking up with me?”

When he walks closer Tarrent spreads out slowly, he’s trying to let Peter have a chance to talk to you.

“Baby, why would I break up with you?”

You look at him and he sees how sad you look, you can’t help the bubbling cry that pulls through.

“Because I was mean to you.”

Oh.

You thought he was mad because of what you said to him in the basement. You thought you had fucked it up by hitting and berating him. You thought he was trying to get you out of the house so he could swiftly dump your ass and leave with a nicer, prettier girl.

“Oh shit.” He breathes out the words and in an instant Tarrent knows this isn’t as accurate as you claimed it was, even if you were plastered he was ready to have your side first. And not that he even really knows you, but he considers Parker a good friend and if there was a chance he was about to fuck up and end it with you he had to middleman it. Tarrent knows Parker deserves you.

He slowly pushed himself away until he was no longer in between you two. Peter appreciated the space and pushed his toes into yours, he was going nowhere.

“I’m not mad about that! You didn’t know it was me!”

Peter is so happy this was about nothing.

You won’t hear it, you’re drunk and extremely apologetic.

You hiccup, “No, cause I was so fucking mean to you, Petey. I should’ve never said that, I was so so mean. I wasn’t being a good girlfriend.”

He wants to laugh but he thinks it would upset you more.

“Baby, really. It’s okay, you didn’t know it was me. I’m not mad at all, I promise.”

You shake your head, “I was so mean to you though. I called you like, so many bad names.” You gasp when you remember what else you had done, you grab his hand to look at it. Peter tries to pull it away before it causes you to spiral more but you somehow have an iron grip on his wrist.

“And I hit you! Oh my god, Petey. I am so sorry, I didn’t mean it I swear.”

Peter places his free hand against your cheek, “I know you didn’t.” You place a soft kiss to the red mark, he knows you feel insanely guilty.

‘Hey,” He taps your cheek with a finger to get you to look at him. “You trust me, right?” You nod. “Good, now believe me when I say I’m not mad. You stuck up for yourself, trouble. You didn’t see it was me and I realized that, okay?”

You sniffle. “So you’re not mad at me?”

He laughs, “No, trouble. I’m not mad at you.”

You look at his hand and frown, you kiss it again. “And you won’t break up with me?”

Peter smiles sadly, “Don’t think you can get rid of me that easy, sorry.”

“Kiss?”

He looks at you, then the room, “Here?”

“If you’re not breaking up with me then prove it.”

Peter wants to tell you he could kiss you then dump you but you wouldn’t get that he was joking and it would collapse everything.

He follows your wish and pulls you in, he’s not much for outstanding PDA but he thinks you deserve a little more than a peck tonight. You did just gaslight yourself into thinking he was breaking up with you.

Peter pulled back and watched you grumpily blink your eyes open.

“Why stop?”

“Are you asking for another?”

You nod quickly and look over his shoulder, “Now! Before Casey Shauna sees you and tries to come over.” Before he can say a word you fly up to meet his mouth, it was sloppy and you basically headbutted him with your mouth so his teeth hurt. He gently pushes you away and rubs his upper lip.

Your eyes widened, “Oh no, I did it again. I hurt you, right?”

Peter was not about to fall back into this rabbit hole, not when he just found his way out of it.

“Not at all, trouble. Had some lip gloss, that’s all.”

You pout and shake your head solemnly, “I’m not wearing lip gloss.”

“How bout this, I get you home and I’ll give you all the kisses you want. How’s that sound?”

Like a puppy you’ve forgotten why you were upset, excited you hold on tight to his arm as he guides you through the crowded room until you reach the front door. You ask him how firm he is on the kisses offer, he gives you three the second you exit the house.

“I also want sex.”

Peter laughs, “That’s funny, cause I want a mcchicken.”

You ‘oo’ at him and slap his arm in excited agreement. “I want one too, but with cheese. And maybe some fries. Oh, Peter! I want a super large coke too, they have the best coke!”

By the time you’ve hit up Mcdonald’s and had Peter’s wallet buy you whatever you wanted, (even when you asked him for another mcchicken and a refill,) you were too tired to do anything but pass out on the couch.

Peter humphs at you while he watches you snore with the TV playing in the background.

“The sex to Mcdonalds pipeline never fails.”

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter one shot #tasm! peter parker x reader #my writing

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leviathism · 1 year

Text

obey me x gn reader … new game got me thinking… no spoilers :]

“Not a day is ever boring with you, dear!” Asmo giggled, almost toppling over with how much he was laughing.

You had just tripped and he had to catch you. If he hadn’t, you would have face planted into hard cement. He kept a hold on your hand, swinging them back and forth happily.

Your DDD buzzed so you let go of his hand to answer it. Asmo hummed sadly and looked at the Majolish shop you two were passing by. A bright light caught his peripheral vision and he looked back with a bright smile.

“Aw, hun, did you want to take a pic of…” He blinked, looking at the empty spot next to him where you had just been. “…me?”

Chaos erupted at the House of Lamentation.

Devildom News had already reported a crying Asmodeus right out of Majolish as he frantically called out your name.

Asmodeus could care less that they captured his bad side. (He did care, just a little bit). He needed to know where you were.

“They just disappeared!” Asmodeus cried out. “We were walking home and they got a text and then they disappeared!”

“They couldn’t have just disappeared.” Satan shook his head. “Did they teleport away?”

“I don’t think so!” Asmodeus rubbed his eyes. “They would’ve told me, right?”

“I don’t feel their pact.” Lucifer opened his eyes. “They’re no longer here.”

“They’re… dead?” Asmodeus whimpered.

“That or our pacts broke,” Satan sighed. “But how could they have died beside you, Asmo? You would’ve noticed. And for our pacts to break all at once? Impossible.”

“So what happened?” Belphegor demanded. “How could they have disappeared to the point where we can’t even feel our pacts?”

“I’ll let Diavolo and Barbatos know—”

“They already know.” Satan pointed to behind a Lucifer.

Diavolo and Barbatos had already made themselves welcome, wandering into the living room of the House of Lamentation. They had also brought Solomon with them.

“We saw the news where Asmodeus was yelling for them. We thought we’d come to check in to see if everything was alright,” Diavolo spoke, his eyes sweeping over the seven of them. “But I see they’re not here.”

“Where did they disappear? In front of Majolish?” Solomon asked Asmodeus who nodded with a sniffle. “I’ll go check it out. Barbatos, come with me.”

Solomon disappeared hours later after declaring he knows what had happened to you. But it doesn’t help ease the minds of your seven demons.

Mammon was stubborn and determined to bring you home.

He decided to go on the lookout and began to prowl the streets of the Devildom. Beel was also there, but he was way less important. Mammon was going to be the one to find you, to bring you back safe, and make sure you never left his side again.

That was his sole duty as your first.

“I feel bad.” But he also had a job of caring for his little brothers. Well. When he wanted to.

“Not now, Beel.”

“I feel bad that they could’ve just disappeared like that without any of us having a clue.” Beel stopped walking behind him. Mammon slowly turned around. “I’m meant to protect them, but I can’t do anything.”

“Ya are doin’ something,” Mammon said immediately. “You’re lookin’ for ‘em with me, right?”

“Yeah, but…” Beel frowned. “What if Solomon is right? What if they really are in the past and we can’t get to them?”

Mammon growled. “There’s no such thing as time travel.”

“You know you’re not telling the truth, Mammon… You held them when they died.”

“Shut up, Beel! This is not the same!” Mammon shook his head stubbornly before he continued on. “Now stop talkin’ or scram!”

Lucifer had arranged several meetings with Diavolo.

“Are you sure it’ll be fine?” Lucifer asked, arms crossed and jaw tensed.

Diavolo had an easy going smile across his face. “Barbatos told me that Solomon had it covered.”

Lucifer glanced at Barbatos, watching as the demon’s tail tips twined nervously together.

“Are they coming home or not?” Lucifer demanded.

“Solomon will do everything possible to get them home,” Barbatos answered for Diavolo. Lucifer took in a deep breath. Another not answer. “Solomon is very powerful. If the time period is correct, he already has a pact with me. They will be under his and my protection.”

Lucifer didn’t think that was enough. He needed you to be under his protection. He would see that things got done right the way he wanted them to be.

“I know it’s hard, but all we can do now is wait.” Diavolo smiled sadly at him. “Our human is very powerful themselves, don’t forget that.”

Beelzebub felt helpless as everything around him fell apart. Usually, you would be there to bring them back together again. He tried to check in on his brothers, bringing them snacks to eat, but none of them seemed to appreciate it.

Leviathan wouldn’t even open up the door. He felt abandoned. He hated change, he hated you, he hated everything. He couldn’t believe you could just disappear like that. You had to have known. You probably left on purpose, so you wouldn’t have to deal with any of them anymore. So you wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore.

Asmodeus was in denial. Satan was scared.

“I just can’t believe it,” Asmo muttered. “They were right beside me and the moment I looked away—they were gone.”

“That’s how most kidnappings go,” Satan muttered.

“You need to stop watching crime shows. They’re rotting your brain.” Mammon flipped through his magazine, ignoring how he ripped the pages with how rough he was being.

“I’m scared of how I’ll treat them in the past. I didn’t have a good control on my wrath..” Satan suddenly spoke up.

“Oh, trust me, we remember.” Mammon reached over and ruffled his hair, laughing when Satan glowered at him.

“But… especially, back then… especially since they’re human. How will my freshly made mind react to a human in the Devildom? Will I take out all my rage on them?”

Belphegor dropped his glass of water.

“Belphie?”

Belphegor was terrified.

“Belphie…”

Belphegor sat on your bed. “Go away, Beel.”

He closed his eyes, trying to feel your pact.

He remembered the story you had told about Barbatos sending you back in time to fix the mess he had put himself into and see who had released him from the attic. Then, he had killed you.

The timeline where you had been from collapsed. It no longer existed. Belphegor snorted at the thought of a timeline imploding just because you were gone from it. It made sense, in a way. How could time keep ticking without you?

How would Belphegor in the past react to you? A human? In their Devildom? How would you react? Would you run up to him? Would you even suspect anything? Would he kill you without even thinking a single thing about it?

He took one of your pillows and held it to his chest, ignoring how mad you would be if you saw him crying all over your pillow case. He ignored how it was Beel who wrapped an arm around him and tried to imagine it as you.

He hoped you were safe. He hoped you’d make it back to them.

#obey me x reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x you #obey me x gn reader #mammon x reader #lucifer x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #belphegor x reader #beelzebub x reader #obey me angst

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