Paper cuts come when you least expect them. You thought it was pathetic that a mature human such as yourself couldn't even flip a page without slicing their skin open, but old Devildom books were made of the worst paper. Super thin, and sharp like a blade when touched at the wrong angle.
The small distraction sucked you out of the novel you were reading and back into reality. You shut the book and shook your hand, waiting for the pain to run its course. These actions did not go unnoticed.
"Let me see your hand," Satan murmured. He was suddenly looming over your armchair and gently cupping your fingers.
"It's not bad, don't worry." You were more concerned about the book's pages. Satan's collection had a lot of rare and expensive tomes. The novel in your lap looked fine, but how angry would Satan get if a drop of blood spilled onto it? He might not verbally assault you like he would others, but you feared he'd sulk about it for at least a few weeks.
Satan pulled a square cloth from his back pocket. He paused to stare at it. It looked fine. Maybe a little wrinkled, but nothing that should have made him frown. "My handkerchief is dirty."
He roughly shoved it back into the pocket and instead lifted the hem of his shirt, then lightly blotted at your wound with the still-warm fabric.
"Hey! Nooo, that's just going to make your clothes harder to clean later." You went to jerk your arm back, but Satan's gentle hold turned into an iron grip. Those abs weren't just for show. "It's gonna stain! Knock it off. I can lick it or something."
"Oh, good idea." Satan's shirt slid back down as he dropped it and knelt. He rested his elbows on the seat cushion, one on either side of your legs.
"I can do it! I can do it!" You tried to stop him, but he was already seductively dragging his tongue over your fingertip. "Don't even thi-- ahhh, Satan come on!"
There was far more blood rushing through your face than in the tiny little cut. It astounded you how Satan could pull off an embarrassing action so smoothly, without hesitation.
"Are you done yet?" You didn't know if it had been five seconds or five minutes, but you thought it was long enough.
"Mmh." He mercifully stopped, giving your palm a quick peck. "Move over."
The armchair was meant for one, but it was big and cushy. If you scooted to the side it could probably fit two. "Why?"
Satan was already climbing into the space next to you, raising you onto his legs. "I'm gonna make sure it doesn't happen again. I'll read to you."
He leaned back into the chair, pulling you along with him, and curled an arm around your waist to reach the novel. "So, which page were you on?"
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Mind blowing that this even needs to be said but
Neat run down of all the ways we're poorer now than in 2010. In case you come across anyone honestly asking 'are we more well off after 14 years of tory rule' no. You aren't. Even a little bit.
We analyse a key point of contention in the general election campaign: the government’s record on pay, housing, energy and food bills
It is a simple question – and it will be at the heart of the general election campaign. After 14 years of Conservative government, people are asking: am I any better off?
The answer for most people is – no, you are not better off.
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I unironically love that every single Splatoon game’s story mode is like “and btw the love you have for the people around you is so important, so strong, capable of breaking down any barrier, it is the second most powerful force in the universe. the first is how good this music is”
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Okay obviously I knew about Mikeko, Apollo's calico cat named Calico, through aa fanworks, but you guys failed to mention that
a) Yes, he really does call Mikeko his girlfriend
b) Mikeko is a male
c) Mikeko is worth five million dollars
d) Apollo accidentally kidnapped him
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im sorry but your mike/fnafsb vanessa dynamic reminds me vaguely of the fuckass deviantart hot yaoi base so i wasted like 30 minutes of my time doing this
my brain loves to continuously shit out horrible ideas and for some reason i decide to do them
This is a greater compliment than you can even imagine
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