#Mam talent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snenbubs · 6 months

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I've made you all wait too long for this. Its an eeensy weensy bit late, BUT ITS DONE. I present to you;

HB MAMMON X GN!READER NSFW/SMUT

As previously stated, I've done afab terms bcz thats all I really know how to write! Apologies if this isn't to your taste :[

Also this is lowk rlly bad pls dont mind it, if you do like it though feel free to send an ask!! :3

NSFW Under the cut! 18+ Only!

The relationship you had with Mammon wasn't binding. There had been no written agreement, formal signing, or anything of the sorts that dedicated yourself to the demon. Aside from, of course, the one he made you sign when you had agreed to work for him; but that did not cover the basis of what had been on his mind.

No, it didn't even come close to what was on his mind, what made him writhe about idly in his seat. Leg bouncing against the thick leather chair whilst his deep chartreuse eyes glowered in the dark of his office. There he sat, alone, pen to paper as he attempted to sort through the weeks finances. His work was lit by nothing but a small, faulty lamp that flickered on and off unreliably. He'd refused to rid himself of the sickly possesion, claiming over and over again that despite its withered condition, he'd be saving money by keeping it as it was. You'd whine to him about it incessantly, pointing out the bad habit, and how it would ruin his eyes, yet nothing changed. He was a sin, anyways, so it wasn't like reading with a shitty lamp would hurt him, but he enjoyed your attention far too much to tell you that.

It was clear to tell through his demeanour that Mammon was not in the best of moods. With both his upper hands being used as a resting point for his head whilst one of his lower hands absently scrawled a pen across an endless mound of paperwork. As previously noted, however, he wasn't quite there. Practically on auto-pilot, his thoughts swirled and stormed and crashed against one another. All of his bubbling emotions however, all of his regret, and rage, and worry, surrounded one singular person: you.

You were Mammon's star. His favourite. A talented clown who not only brought him tons of revenue, but also, the only clown who actually enjoyed his shitty personality. You thought he was funny, and actively sought out his company, so it didn't take long to climb your way up the pedestal. It took even less time for things between the two of you to become more... intimate.

Which was why he was so pissed off.

Part of why, anyways.

As one of his most talented performers it wasn't unusual for venues outside of the Greed ring to request a show. Often, these high class clubs, or restaurants, would pay high fees for a glimpse of his most sought after clowns. He could never refuse these offers, after all, money was money and he was the King of Greed. So, when an offer came through from a small, upcoming club in the Lust ring, who was willing to offer a big sum of cash for a glimpse of his stars presence, including transport and accommodation, how could he say no?

Well. He'd sure learn to say no. He'd have to hold some sort restraint, when it came to you at least, and not throw you off into the midst of the clawy, grabby hands of your fans. Especially, those of Lusts origins. He wanted to throttle Asmodeus for creating such blatantly horny demons that they'd flirt and coo with any living thing, disregarding just who they may piss off in the process.

And oh, was he pissed off;

It had all occured the night before.

You were so pretty, adorned in a pristine clown outfit - which had been specially catered to Mammon's likeness. You were eager to head to head to the performance, and Mammon, keener to make a bank from your fans, waited by your side to bid you a farewell. A specialty he reserved for only you.

But, as the sleek black limousine pulled to a halt outside of his large manor, regret seemed to bubble deep within his chest. A tight, sour feeling, of disgust welled as he watched that god-awful incubus offer his hand to you. Mammon caught the way that demons eyes raked your body, filled with lust, he caught the way the demons hands lingered over yours, the sly glances he threw your way and the way he spoke in such a flirtatious tone.

What was even worse, was that you were aware of such advances, and didn't do anything to stop them!

He had no right to be feeling the way he was. You weren't his to keep or control. That he knew. Yet, adressing the wrongness of his burning anger did nothing to quell it. If anything it made it worse, because now he felt like a shitty person.

Four fingers raked across his desk with anticipation. The cold touch of wood beneath his gloved fingertips a good enough distraction from his overwhelming thoughts.

At this point, the once towering pile of clean, straightened papers that had sat beside him had moved across the desk. Now painted with his sigil and signature, creating contracts that would bind demons to him eternally. He'd be sure to regret not reading through them first later, which would just be another thing to add to his growing plate of mistakes. Right now however, he was nearing the end of his workload and was desperate to call it quits. He pressed his head further into his own palms as he continually signed his name onto paper, after paper, after paper.

Reasonably, he was upset, when three coordinated knocks rapped against the large mahogany doors which sealed his office away from the rest of his manor. He recognised the concentric nature of the knock to be that of one of his various Fizz-bots, which he had replaced all of his work staff with in the sake of saving money.

Discontented, and desiring to be alone to wallow within his own solitude, Mammon's lips curled into a snarl which showcased his rows of many, many sharp teeth. A god-awful growl reverberated through his throat. He paused his hand, yet he didn't tear his eyes away from his work.

The only issue replacing your servants with robots, is that they didn't know any social cues. Upon hearing his gutteral remark a living demon would certainly back away and give the sin his space. But, the Fizz-bot didn't quite catch onto that, and instead, took the sound as an affirmation.

The doorhandle to Mammon's office was golden, and had been intricately decorated with that of antique design. It's ochre tint glistened prettily against the thinly covered lampshade that flickered at the demons desk. This glistening however was rudely interrupted as the handle began to rattle obnoxiously, twisting a few times whilst whining and croaking in protest before finally giving way and allowing the large door to swing open.

The Fizz-bot strolled in almost too casually for the Royals liking, its lanky limbs loose at its sides. Mammon bore his fangs toward the bot, rising from his seat ready to tear the thing apart bit by bit. He hesitated however, when it spoke out to him;

"(Y/N) has returned." Rasped out its monotonous voice. At its words, Mammon's demeanour calmed, he resisted in attacking the poor bot and instead opted to to glare at it.

"What?" Came his thick Aussie accent, laced with interest as he now decided his work could wait until later. He leaned forward, the tinkling of his bells signalling his movement.

The Fizz-bot stood still for some moments before repeating its original statement; "(Y/N) has returned," it cocked its pale face to the side curiously for some moments. "In the lobby, with limousine driver--"

The poor bot didn't have a chance to finish its sentence. The moment it had mentioned that fucking limousine driver, Mammon had shoved his entire desk to the side and began marching forward. The Fizz-bot, who had been in his way, how decended to the floor in two sparking pieces of metal, fabric and silicone.

He left his office in a flurry, storming down the expansive, winding corridors of his manor with little to no care for the priceless items that lined its corridors. Fizz-bots would have to dive out of his way or else face becoming a mutilated mess such as the one that had unfortunately gone to his office to inform him of your return.

Usually, it took a long while to traverse the halls of his manor, for it was large, and he was never in any rush to be somewhere. Yet, he knew you were alone with that horrible incubus and that alone was enough to make him move faster than he needed to, and so he made it to his location in almost minutes.

The double doors which blocked him from the lobby were thrown open, a loud clang echoing through the grand enterance which signalled his arrival.

The lobby was a fancy room, grand in its size as it was its decor; the opening doors, lined with real gold, were surrounded with authentic stained glass, depicting Mammon and his... many charitable acts that definitely did happen. Across from the door was a grand staircase, split into two with a balcony at the centre wich looked over entire ensemble. That was where Mammon stood, towering over the room like a king to his subjects, the subjects being you, and that shitty incubus who spoke to you. He watched with narrow eyes, as you laughed at the demons words, clinging to each sentence so endearingly that you hadn't even noticed his overbearing presence. Mammon liked the way you looked when you laughed, and he found that the demon you were offering such a look to was not worthy of laying his gaze on such a sight.

Bolts of lightning surrounded his figure, glooms of green began to seep the surface of the balcony and in the blink of an eye Mammon had been enveloped in a cloud of flashing sage and jade, dissapating from the balcony and reforming in another flared pall.

"(N/N)!" His voice cooed out, tone now sweeter than before as be put forth a joyous persona as to not give way the fact that he had been brooding over this situation just moments beforehand. "How is my favourite clown doing this fine afternoon? Did the show go well? I bet it did, people love you!"

You cast your cheery gaze onto Mammon, now distracted from the limousine guy as the tall green Sin slung an arm across your shoulder, practically draping his body across yours.

"Oh, Mammon! Yes, it did go well." You adressed him accordinly, a wide smile etched into your lips which gave-way the results of your performance which had happened the night before. "Actually, we we're just-"

"We we're just talking about how they should totally come back and perform for us again."

You had been cut off by a sultry, breathy voice, that of the incubus who was stood opposite with a cocky grin across his sharp-toothed face. Mammon was not pleased with the demons interruption, and, by the way your smile faltered, threatening to slip to that of a frown, he could tell you were not pleased either.

"Hi, my name is--"

"I don't care." Mammon clipped back at the demon, happy-go-lucky persona now melding to that of his buried anger. He gave the guy a snarled expression, unhappy with his disrespect toward Mammon's sinfulness.

The incubus' brow furrowed, eyes clocking into a look of confusion. "Okay... rude much," He placed a hand on his hip, "As I was saying..."

Mammon took his arm away from your figure, not missing the way your body leant into his touch as he retreated. He opted instead to pull himself up to full height, glaring down at the demon dangerously. It was at this point the incubus began to cower backward, tail between his legs with knees threatening to buckle underneath his own weight. Mammon growled again, this time louder;

"They will not be going back to that shit-hole of a joint, d'ya hear me?" He leant in closer to the demon, who was now nodding his head profusely in complete understanding to the bigger, more powerful demons commands. Mammon remained quiet for a few moments, before huffing. "You can fuck right off, I don't like you. Get back to your limousine, cunt."

He didn't have to tell the incubus a second time, for the second he finished his utterance the pink-ish skinned creature was scurrying backward as fast as his hooved feet could take him.

As he watched the demon leave, Mammon hesitated for a moment, afraid to turn around and meet your gaze. He had... vastly, overreacted to a situation that could have been handled with ease. Yet it just pissed Mammon off how the fuckwad, so full of himself, never gave you a moment to preach.

The Sin stood languidly for a few moments, before a huff of relief soundes from behind him. He turned his head to gaze at you, watching as you chuckled nervously, fret filling your stance. He was unsure of what to say.

"Oh my god," You began, deciding after a moments silence between the two of you to plafe your input. "I'm so glad he's gone, he was so invasive, and annoying." You made a gagging motion, hoping to put a smile onto the big jesters face.

Clearly, it worked, his first gaze softened on your form before morphing into that of a big, charming grin. "Right?" He cackled, striding over to your side once more to place a hand atop of your head, roughing you up cheekily. "Honestly, I felt so bad leavin' you with him yesterday, worried you'd kill yourself from boredom." It was a complete lie, but he wasn't about to let you know he had convinced himself you wanted to fuck the demon, and had let himself get all pissy over it.

"God, I thought I was too." You rolled your eyes at the memory, having to sit in the small limousine for a whole ride through the Greed ring, with an elevator stop, then another ride through the Lust ring, all while he yapped on about how cool he was. You shuddered.

"I'll do another show there, though, the audience was great. I'll get one of the Fizz-bots to sort it out." You yawned as you spoke, tiredly rubbing a fist against an eye. You began to head to the grand staircase, intent to head to your luxurious room and collapse against the plush bed Mammon had bought specially for you.

The great Sin followed behind close at your heel, so omnipotent that his shadow cast over you ominously. "Well actually," He began, tone now turning to that of something more formal. You knew that voice all too well, he was about to push forth a business proposal. "I don't think you should do shows in Lust anymore."

At first, you were ready to groan. To shun him out and tell him that his ideas could wait until the morning. However, his words brought you to a firm halt, stood still half-way up the golden lined staircase. You turned to face the jester with a cocked brow, expression not near enough to showcase the confusion you felt, which was only pushed further once you saw the state Mammon was in: fidgety, and odd. He wrung his top set of gloved hands together, and occupied the bottom two with the fabrics of his clothes. He kept his gaze low. From this, you could gather no source of his intent, only that he was anxious. A state you had only seen of him once or twice in all the years you had worked under his watchful eye.

"But Lust is where I get most of my revinue from," With a soft, lighthearted tone you chose to remind Mammon of your worth, mentally praying that he was not firing you, and instead had a secret promotion up his well decorated sleeve. "If I stop doing shows there I'll be one of your least sought after clowns."

Mammon felt your cold, petrifying gaze on his figure. He lifted his gaze from the floor, but rather than looking at you, he directed it somewhere else - across the room, where a rather interesting portrait of he and Lucifer sat. "Well, it's always good for a change once in a while, aye? Besides, you're a star, (N/N). No matter the ring."

You continued to gaze at him narrowly. "I don't... understand?" Was all you could seemingly muster out.

Once more, Mammon remained silent, hesitating to speak the truth. "I just, don't think you should do shows there 'nymore. I don't like the way they treat you." He twiddled his fingers together idly.

You took a moment to process what he had said, mind running amock with the thoughts of why he was making such a rash decision; he didn't appear to be firing you, simply moving where you performed your shows. It was an unnecessary edit, all because he 'didn't like the way they treated you'? You considered the phrase for some time, before it finally clicked in your head. Once it had, a wide, sly smile spread across your cheeks.

"Oh, really, why?" You spoke coyly, lowering your lids provocatively as you lowered yourself a step closer to Mammon so that the space between the two of you had been eliminated completely. "I don't mind the way they treat me."

He gazed down at you unblinkingly. "Well I don't, and my word is final-"

"Why~?" You cocked your head to the side, smirk only growing in size as he stuttered backward on his words. Letting out a faux gasp, you continued; "Oh, Mam, you aren't... jealous, are you?"

His face flushed, a dead give-away to his true feelings. Your smirk only widened at this. "N--No, I'm not, it just makes me uncomfortable, how much they wanna fuck you-"

You let out a sarcastic chortle, placing a hand to your chest. "You so fucking are! You're jealous!"

Mammon remained quiet on the matter, keeping his head turned away as to not face embarassment of admitting to such a defeat. He was jealous, he was so fucking jealous, ever since he had watched you leave that night beforehand it had burnt deep within the pits of his core, every inch of scathing grump he had boiled down to work stress was because of you. He huffed. His refusal to answer was enough in itself, and so, you chose to now offer a hand of rapport and sympathy;

"If its any consolation," You started, now averting your gaze from his larger form. A show of embarassment, as your cheeks flushed hottly. Mammon, through the corner of his eye, caught onto this. It interested him greatly. "I couldn't stop thinking about you last night."

Now he looked at you. "Really?" Came a rushed response, he was surprised at his own eagerness to hear such input. This, of course, was a state he had been reduced to many a time. Desperately greedy for the attention you were willing to offer him.

"Yeah," You started once more. Though your gaze was not on him, you could sense his close presence, evading your space as each second passed. Not that you minded, his warm figure had always been a guilty pleasure. "I don't like being alone, you know that. I missed you, I wished you could have been there."

It was no surprise that when you returned to look at him, you found his face only inches away from yours. His hot breath fanned against your face in bursts, and you had to resist the urge to lean forward and plant a sweet kiss to his lips.

It was his turn to be cocky now, with eyelids coated in thick eyeliner lowered egotistically. "That why you're here so early, aye? Wanted to see me?" His eyes motioned to a large, fancybclock which sat against the wall at the very top of the grand staircase, it tattled of your earliness; three hours early to be exact, you had been eager to see Mammon.

"I want more than that." You pressed your forehead against his, sly smirk now returning as you regained some semblance of confidence.

For a moment, the two of you stood, head-to-head, pressed closely together as you basked in the comfort of each others presence. Eventually, however, Mammon retracted himself, standing at full height and grinning evilly at the whine you let out at the loss of contact.

"And what is it you want from me, (N/N)?" You wanted to murder the bastard for his overgrown confidence, stood below him with your arms crossed over your chest and cheeks puffed out angstily. He wanted you to say it outright. He always did; he wanted you to profess how badly you wanted and needed him. Stroke his ego and reap the rewards.

With a short blow of air from your nostrils, you caved in. Deciding that if it meant getting to be shoved hard into a mattress for the evening then you could deal with his arrogance in the morning.

"Mammon," You cooed out softly. You took a moment to bend your knees, and jump up onto him. He caught you in his arms reflexively, holding you close to him allowing you to lean close to his ear. "I want you, to fuck me."

And you didn't have to tell him twice.

The tinkling of bells was all that could be heard echoing through the halls of Mammon's large, lonely manor. He held you close in his arms, and moved quickly. Quicker than you had seen him move that one time one of his Fizz-bots had dropped a bag of money on the street. There were so many deaths.

As previously stated, it would have taken a while to traverse the lond and winding halls of his manor, but, now fixated on a new desire to have you all to himself, he made it to his extravagant bedroom in moments.

His room was large, lined with accents of gold, black and green; at the centre, was your destination. A large bed, fit for that of royalty, with plush sheets and pillows significantly larger than your small Hellborn figure, as they had been made for Mammon, who was taller and more substantial than anything you had ever seen. The bed was lined with curtains of thick green-ish grey webbing, which, as you were thrown to the centre of the bed, concealed you from the rest of the room.

Mammon threw you to the bed almost carelessly, lost in a haze of need. You bounced against the expensive mattress, laying amonst the pillows and such that had been strewn across his bed lazily. The larger demon loomed over you ominously, casting his gaze down upon you and bathing your body in a light chartreuse glow.

"You have no bloody idea how much I hated letting you go off with that fuckin' prick." He almost growled, placing his forehead against yours once more. An act of intimacy you found greatly comforting. A set of his hands found their way to your hips, pulling you closer beneath him so that you were flush to his body.

You let out a soft chuckle, bringing a hand up to flick a bell at the end of his coxcomb. "God," You huffed, now bringing your hands to wrap around his neck. "You're such a big oaf." You we're lucky to be so important to him, otherwise he would have had you punished for such an insult.

Instead, he simply huffed. Content to let you bully him so long as you just stayed so, so close to him. He relished the warmth of your presence for a few moments, simply content to have you with him, but it didn't take long for him to begin craving more.

He brought his lips to yours and pulled you closer toward him, if that was even possible at this point. He keenly pressed hungrily sweet kisses to your mouth, which you returned with an equally as needy fervour. Soon enough, his forked tongue was tangled with that of your own as he took every inch of your mouth as his own. The sides of your hips stung from where Mammon held you, his claws digging into that of your clown costume and probably ruining it for future use. Such a thought was long forgotten however, in the heat of the moment. From how close the demon held you to his body, you could feel the hardened tent in his pants, which only egged you on further.

Cautiously and almost tauntingly, you raised your hips toward his in a slow roll. Grinding against his clothed erection with a pert demeanour.

At the sudden contact, Mammon let out a short whine. His grip against your hips tightened impossibly, using the hold he had on you to unfortunately pull away. His tongue left your mouth with a string of drool, which left you midly grossed out but also extremely turned on.

You frowned; "Hey!" Was all you coulf muster out, a cocky remark to distract yourself from the building heat that had settled between your legs. In all truth, you weren't going to complain for you knew whatever Mammon was to do with you, it would be amazing.

Mammon eyed you up and down, his eyes filled with that of awe and desire. "Enough teasing," He started, finally removing his hands from your hips and instead focussing all four onto the task of undoing your complex clown outfit. "I want that stunner cunt of yours, I've had a rough day."

You let out a short laugh at the demons half assed excuse for being so demanding. "Anything for you, Mam." Was your obedient response, and you took to helping him unfasten the outfit. He was pleased with your compliance, if the grin on his face was anything to go by.

Soon enough, your clothes had been thrown astrew somewhere across the bed, lost in a sea of webbing and you sat in the nude, vulnerable beneath the Sin. You did not shy away however, not like you had the first time you had found yourself in such a situation with Mammon. No. Now you lay confidently in your berth, for you knew he adored you in all your demonic body.

And adore he would do.

With a pair of hands and your hips holding you in place, Mammon brought his second pair to pry your legs apart. An action which you allowed with relative ease. At this point you were an eager mess, biting your lip with anticipation to the sensations he would offer. The burning heat at your very core sparked ebbing embers of need and want which only increased as you watched Mammon lower his head between your legs.

Your hips bucked with anticipation, moving your hands to rest atop of his green coxcomb and gently egg him on. He chuckled darkly at your impatient attitude. It was with that, that he decided to finally ease you of your yearning, and so, with his forked tongue, he licked a long stripe across your enterance.

At the sudden contact, a breathless gasp slipped past your lips. Mammon paused for just a moment to relish in the sound you had let out, a sound he knew only he was able to bring from you.

"Fuck," He growled out, looking up at you from between your legs. A position only you could force him into. "You've got one hell of a cunt, you know that? I could get drunk off of you." The comment made heat rush to the edges of your cheeks, but you did not have long to fawn over his sudden comment for within moments he delved back down between your legs.

You were inclined to believe him when he claimed to get drunk off of you, because Mammon ate like a man starved. With hands gripping at your thighs and hips he had himself pressed flush against you, as far as he could so that he could greedily and hungrily lap at you over and over. You were glad he was a Sin and could not die, for if any normal demon did this you were sure they'd surely suffocate.

With his repititive, almost frantic motions, all you could do was pant and whine, hands gripping his coxcomb so tight your knuckles began to throb with pain. It was different, from being fucked, this brought forth a different kind of rapture; waves of pleasure rolled through your core, you felt a familiar coil bubble through your midriff, tightening and tightening the more Mammon continued.

Mammon took note of each sound you made, listening intently to the ways in which you gasped and mewled beneath him. If he found a sound he liked the most, such as when you'd utter his name in a strangled moan, he'd work twice as hard just to hear you do it again. Plunging his tongue even deeper within you, ravenous for the way you made him feel.

"Oh-- Mammon!" You cried, voice audibly cracking when one of his hands gently caressed across your thigh and moved down to play at your clitoris. Such an action, combined with the etches of his tongue deep within your cavern, tasting and devouring every inch of you for himself pushed the bubbles within your core to the very edge. You pushed his head further down. "I--I'm close.. ah! Please!"

Mammon was not one to deny you of your wishes.

For a moment, he paused his actions. Retracting his tongue slowly to hear the loud growl of protest you'd let out, but, within moments he delved back in; circling your clit with his thumb and fucking you thoroughly with his tongue.

It was this action that pushed you over the very edge, snapping the coil in your core suddenly. You threw your head backward as Mammon fucked you through your orgasm, white clouding your vision whilst waves of pleasure shot through your system. Your legs twitched from overstimulation.

After a few moments, you felt Mammon's long tongue leave your body. You lay dizzily against the bedsheets, lost in a post-sex haze which had you unbearably turned on. Much to your joy however, you soon found Mammon's presence above you once more. His glowing eyes connecting with yours before he leant in for a sloppy kiss, messier than the first one had been, filled with a fervent passion that had grown in the vial of your lust.

Mammon's hands roamed your body, as yours did his. He groped at your sides and waist, holding you close so that you could grind your body against his. Palming the tent in his pants eagerly.

"You're too good for me, you know that, right?" The larger demon grumbled, barely pulling away from your lips as he spoke. So much so that the vibration of his voice hummed into your mouth.

You chittered against him longingly, meekly shaking your head against his. "I'm really not." You griped, rolling your eyes to the side before promptly letting go of his body and letting yourself fall backward into the sheet. "I was made for you.. now... if you would please do me the honours. Fuck me."

At your desperate demand Mammon was quick to action. "Anything you want, darl." He purred with a seductive drawl. The sin towered over you dangerously, leaning down to press loose kisses to your lips, slowly traversing his attention down toward your neck and collarbone. Where he licked and nipped against your skin widly. Desperate to hear the little gasps you'd let out from his dangerous attention.

He brought his hands away from your body, an action you whined against, but ultimately submitted to for you knew he removed his hands to fumble with the his pants, the piece of Fool themed garment that stood between you and getting what you wanted.

Oh, and where you about to get what you wanted.

Mammon brought himself toward you once again, pressing soothing and loving kisses to your lips as he aligned himself with your enternace. You felt the shaft of his cock rub against your slit tauntingly, bringing forth a mewl of pleading nature from your lips. The Prince chuckled darkly at that, which only lead to you pouting against his lips embrace.

Mammon brought a pair of his hands down toward your hips once again, with another one moving upward to intertwine with one of your free hands which were held high above your head. With this position, melded close to his body so that he could nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, he held you steady and began to sheath himself into you.

Tears bubbled at the corners of your eyes, and you panted harshly. His enterance stung, it always did, he was so much larger compared to you so he had to be careful as to not pain you too much. The demon hushed your silent cries with a cautious nip to your neck, sinking his sharp teeth against your pretty flesh lightly in a weak attempt to subdue your other worries. His tongue flicked across your neck tauntingly, which resulted in a choked moan from your end. Slowly, the stinging which ran through your system melded into that of recreation and your pants of pain turned to pants of pleasure.

He brought his head upward and gazed down at you yearnfully, hands kneading gentle circles into your hips. "Are you ready?" He inquired, voice soft with worry. He kept himself full inside you, concerned that the slightest of movement would hurt you.

You took a second to catch your breath, swallowing thickly before nodding your head at his words. Offering a sly smirk in his direction.

He was slow, at first. Cautious as to how you would take him, he always was. He pulled his girth away from your tight channel all the way, before oncemore pushing himself back inside. Caught in awe at the whines and moans you'd echo outward at each thrust.

He wanted to be easy with you, he really did. He wanted to be nice and slow so that he couldn't possibly hurt you, but, you just kept making such sweet sounds. Chanting his name like a mantra, worshipping him like the God he was. With each thrust you clenched around him tightly, milking waves of pleasure from him each time. He was a greedy, greedy man and he needed all of you at once, everything of you he could have.

He brought his mouth back to yours in an attempt to taste you, letting his tongue explore the wonders of your mouth, but allowing enough space so that you could keep letting out moans and mewls each time he pounded into you.

"You-- aah, you are so, so.." Mammon brought his mouth away from yours for just a moment, trying his hardest to muster up a compliment but was lost in the heat of the moment. He let out a breathless whine, before lowering his head to your neck once more. "You're fuckin' everything."

You tried to respond, to thank him for his kind words or maybe make fun of him for being so sappy. However your words were lost in translation, turning into half-assed sentences amongst whines and gasps, too lost in a cloud of your own hot, burning pleasure to even think about functioning properly.

"M--Mammon.." You mumbled, voice hoarse and raw from all your cries and pleas. You bucked your hips against his, trying to match his unwavering, borderline bruising pace to chase the high that was now building in your core.

The demon lifted his head away from your neck, now locking eyes with you intently. Once again you were basked in a soft green hue, reflecting prettily against your sweat-lined skin, midly coated in the blood from where he had bitten your skin, and bruises from where he had given you hickeys. He grinned devilishly at his work, proud of the ways he had claimed your skin.

Such thoughts seemed to snap something within him, pushing him over the edge. His thrusts grew rapid and desperate, even more so than before. You could feel a coil building in your core again, and he could tell you were just as close as he was from the way you clenched around him so tightly.

"I'm so- o--oh! I'm gonna.." You whined out your state to Mammon, urging him to keep at his needy pace.

Pleasure rolled through your system, burning your whole body overwhelmingly and tightening progressively. It bubbled under your skin before finally, as Mammon's thrusts grew irate, snapping. Your orgasm rocked your body almost painfully, leaving you limp and shaking, cunt clenching around him as he grew sloppy and lazy. Mammon whined needily as he spilt his cum inside you, grip against your hips and hand tightening and loosening unpredictably.

There was a silent few seconds where you and Mammon simply stared at each other. Bodies still melded together in a spent, wheezing heap of fucked out demons.

You cocked your head to the side with a sly grin, leaning up to place a sweet kiss to the corner of his cheek. "So, you wanted to talk about my shows in Lust?"

Mammon groaned. His eyes rolling to the side sarcastically before he lowered his head to rest against your chest. Nuzzling into you softly. You brought a hand up to pet the top of his head lovingly.

"I think we need to add some things to your work contract."

#helluva boss x reader #mammon hb x reader #mammon hb #i need him so bad #helluva boss x reader smut #mammon hb x reader smut #i love him #lowk shitty but isnt it cool #mammon is so ooc #but its okayv #because i love hin

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look-at-the-soul · 2 months

Text

Endless love

(Modern) Tommy Shelby x reader

✨ I wrote this for @justrainandcoffee Alfieversary! My dearest Flor who knew fanfiction and Peaky Blinders would cross our paths! Thank you for always being so kind and generous-and talented!-, becoming mutuals here for a short time and somehow it feels as if we knew each other in person. Cheers to many, many more Alfieversaries!

Summary: Y/N is “forced” to leave her husband and baby for the weekend, so join Tommy to sort parenthood by himself for a couple of days. How will he deal with everything? Including a fussy baby.

Word count: 2.5K

A/N: we know I try to make moodboards right? 🤭

“Okay, erm so there’s milk storage enough.” Y/N mumbled, taking one more look around the bedroom. “Emma’s nappies are in the first drawer, keep her bunny close to-“

“Her face, I know.” Tommy produced a small chuckle, trying hard not to roll his eyes as he had already heard his wife’s instructions for almost a week. “Love, just leave that there, take a deep breath and have a margarita for me, we’ll be fine.”

Looking down at his six-month old he found her big beautiful eyes staring at him.

Y/N blinked nervously, this was the first trip away from Emma, it’s was a natural thing to be nervous.

“I can’t drink a margarita, remember?” She pointed at her breasts for a clearer message. Although she really wanted one.

This was actually her first real going out in a long time, somehow her life had been turned upside down full of baby trips to the doctor’s appointments, quick trips to get the groceries, restless nights of feedings. Thats why when Tommy insisted she should make the trip with Rose and the girls, she thought it would be a good idea to have a little time to herself.

But suddenly, her phone started ringing and loads of messages arrived simultaneously.

“Are you su-“

Tommy cut his wife’s words. “Yes, now go before Rose comes up to take you.”

Y/N gave Tommy a worried look, she couldn’t help it.

“Say goodbye to mama,” he waved Emma’s little hand. “Buh-bye mam!” He imitated a childish voice.

Y/N felt her heart clenching inside her chest when she kissed her daughter’s chubby cheeks.

“If you need anything just call and I’ll be back.” She rushed to say before kissing Tommy’s lips. Stepping out of their home, she blew them a kiss.

Tommy finally felt confident enough to release the air he had been holding. He was beyond nervous for not having his wife around whilst taking care of their baby, he was actually panicking to do anything wrong.

As Tommy closed the door he saw Emma’s lip quiver and a second later, she let out a big cry.

“Oh no, no darling don’t cry.” Tommy tried to soothe her. Small legs kicking with such force that made him think of a small tornado. “It’s alright, mama will be back in a couple of days…” he mumbled tried to get his daughter to settle.

His phone started buzzing in his pocket, he tried to rock Emma, but her cries became louder. Pressing the green button so fast that he didn’t look at the name on the screen.

“‘Lo?”

“Is Emma alright? I heard her crying.”

Tommy gasped. “Yes, of course, it’s the television… there’s a baby crying.” He lied.

He noticed Y/N’s hesitation so he rushed to assure her everything was fine and encouraged her to have a great time with her friends. Then, Tommy searched the channel with calm music Y/N used to rock Emma to sleep, in an attempt to settle his baby.

“How can a little thing like you cry so loud?” Tommy sighed defeated. He was one step from giving up. “I don’t know how your mama does it.”

He had tried everything, absolutely everything. And nothing seemed to work.

Was his baby sick? Hurting?

“What is it baby girl?” He wiped away the tears from her eyes, long lashes wet, chubby cheeks red from the intensity of her cries.

A sudden flashback appeared on his mind and with long strides, he walked into their bedroom hoping to find Emma’s bunny in its place. It had been a birth gift by Rose, and his daughter didn’t seem to like anything else.

“Look… here’s your bunny.” He tried tickling her cheeks. “And let’s take Mummy’s blanket alright?”

Tommy felt on the brick of desperation, was he really a useless father? One who couldn’t make his daughter stop crying?

His heart was aching.

Tommy wondered how would they survive for the entire weekend without Y/N. He started seriously doubting his parental skills in that moment.

Wrapping his baby in Y/N’s blanket seemed to bring some comfort for his baby. Groaning he covered his face with one of the thin cloths they used to go outside, it was small piece that only covered his features partially but then he heard a small giggle and a raspberry from Emma.

Startled, he removed the sheet from his face and looked down at what was making her giggle.

“You liked your silly daddy?” He asked mimicking a ridiculous voice.

He tried the trick once more.

And to his surprise, Emma giggled again, there was a bit of droll on her chin, big blue eyes sparkling just for him.

“You like Mr. Napkin?!” He asked in disbelief. “Yes you do!”

Getting up, he got a larger napkin from the kitchen and after covering his face again, but he added his glasses.

“Mr. Napkin needs help to see.” He repeated what it seemed like the best acting performance ever. “Oh! I see a beautiful happy little girl.” He turned to face his baby laying in one of his arms.

Emma laughed uncontrollably and kicked her legs happily.

“You know what? Mr. Napkin needs a smoke.” He announced, producing a cigarette from its case. But once he added it to his performance, he noticed a small pout. “Oh no, no… that’s a bad habit, don’t do it.”

Once he got his little girl to settle again, he sighed relieved when he saw the big yawn she offered.

“Mr. Napkin would like a nap too.”

But before he could close his eyes, his phone started ringing and the sound woke his daughter up.

“Shit. Alfie what do you want?”

“Just making sure you’re in one piece still… heard the Misus are having the time of their lives.” Alfie announced.

“I know you’re miserable when Rose is away, but I’m busy here mate.”

“That’s exactly why I was calling, to offer some child support.”

Tommy snorted. “Alfie the last thing I want is you taking care of my daughter.”

Alfie didn’t took that personally, he knew as a matter of fact that he had the opposite effect in Tommy’s daughter. “When will you finally admit your daughter likes me?”

“She likes pulling at you beard and your dog.”

“Look we both know you’re going to make the girls come back earlier from their trip and the least thing I need is having Rosie mad at me at your fault, so meet me and Cyril at the beach.”

“That sounds like an awful idea.”

“See ya.”

The actual plan worked like wonders, Emma was thrilled to spend time with Cyril, because being honest, he got all protective over Emma, and despite his size he acted like a cotton ball, bringing her sticks. But Tommy wasn’t going to admit that out loud.

Of course Alfie teased him endlessly for acting over protective towards the baby just because he made sure his daughter wouldn’t suffer damage from the sun. Or any kind of damage for that matter.

“What are cha gonna do when your little pumpkin starts messing around with boys and-“

Tommy gave him a death stare.

“Wha? You can’t keep her locked mate…” Alfie pointed out as the girl grabbed some sand in her small fist.

“That’s not going to happen.” Tommy answered with a clenched jaw.

Just the mere thought of it, made his insides twist.

And to Alfie, to have the chance to tease Tommy it was like the cherry on top, it was something he wasn’t going to let it pass.

By the time they went back to their apartment, Emma was sound asleep in the back seat.

After changing his baby girl into a pajama set, Tommy walked around the place to set the alarm and taking the remote, he turned off the lights.

To his surprise, he got a message from his wife.

Missing you both like crazy! xx

We missed you too, Emma was thrilled to take a little trip to the beach xx - he replied.

Almost immediately, his phone started ringing and the photo of his wife holding their baby appeared on the screen.

“I know I said I wasn’t going to disturb you, but…” her sweet voice made him smile.

“‘S alright, I was just getting ready to sleep.”

“But it’s still early.” Y/N pointed out turning around to look the hour.

“I am exhausted.” He dragged the words.

Turning the call into video, Y/N noticed the bags under his eyes. The dim light cascading over his cheekbones.

“Looks like someone’s having the time of her life.” He complimented.

“We had a massage and I ordered a virgin cocktail.”

Tommy shook his head. “No booze? What’s the fun in that?”

“Stop temping me.” Y/N pouted. “I’ll let you’ve some rest, tomorrow it’s going to be a long day.”

Tommy yawned and wished his wife a good night.

****

A babbling sound make him open his eyes asTommy tried to fix his blurred vision.

Groaning, he got up. “Morning, sunshine.” He kissed the top of her head as he pulled her against his chest and went back to bed.

Instinctively, Emma started nibbling his nipple.

“Oh sweetie, you won’t find anything there.” Tommy explained with a chuckle.

But Emma wasn’t in the mood and a round of loud cries started right away.

“I get it, the milk provider is moving right away, give me a sec.” He got up and carried his baby towards the kitchen, to prepare the bottle for her. A few minutes later, Emma was sucking happily.

“Such a drama queen eh?” He stared at her soft features. Wondering what life had in store for her. “What do you wanna do today? We can go to the park, or the pub bet your uncles would love to see you.” He proposed as his baby was focused on her milk. That way he could get some help because everyone in his family adored his daughter.

Despite his wealth, Y/N refused hiring a nanny. She was adamant to be in charge of everything related to their daughter. And being completely honest with himself, he was grateful for being able to spend quality time with his first born, Y/N deserved all the credit for that, she helped him feel comfortable by giving his daughter a warm bath and helping as much as he could, being a present father.

She had already threatened him to include a hairstyle masterclass so he could learn to do braids and pigtails.

After a quick bath for him and another one for his daughter. He felt proud of managing to put an asthetic outfit for Emma, he actually went safe with clear colors God forbid that one time he changed her into a set that didn’t match, Y/N scolded and teased him endlessly. As Tommy was looking in one of the drawers for a clean sheet so he could place his baby on the floor, he found a small box where Y/N kept a bunch of things she said that were useless but you might need some day. The thought made him chuckle, but a sharp movement opened the lid and its content fell to the floor.

That’s when he saw something that caught his attention.

A playful smile spread on his lips and he rushed to the living room to set everything.

It took him a while to carry on with his idea, but once he was finished, he stood there proudly to admire his creation, the smile on his daughter’s face told him he did a good job. Oh, the things he’d do for that little Miss Sunshine. She had him wrapped around her little finger.

Snapping a photo, he pressed a few buttons to send it to his wife.

“What is that?!” Y/N asked raising her voice, excitement was evident.

Tommy’s chest expanded proudly as he looked at his mini-me in awe. “She’s being giggling nonstop.”

“This is the best idea ever!” Y/N sounded surprised, so he was still able to be one step ahead.

“Cheapest trick to keep her busy.” Tommy added, sending the photo to the Shelby’s chat group.

“I can’t wait to go back home.” He knew being away wasn’t easy for her, specially because she was so attached to Emma.

“The day will fly by and you’ll be back before you know it.” He tried to cheer her up. His eyes darting back to his daughter, still amazed by the balloons.

“Look at you, I leave you for a couple of days and you win the award parent of the year.”

“That’s what you get for abandoning us.” He joked.

“Hey!” Tommy heard Rose’s voice in the background. “Only emergencies! Is Tommy missing an arm?” He heard some weird noise and then she spoke clearly. “I hope you’re taking good care of Emma.”

“Of course.” He wasn’t sure if he should be more scared of his wife or Rose.

“Good, then were stealing your wife for another day and we’re already planning the next trip.” She warned, and this time around, it was Y/N turn in the background saying that she didn’t want to be away from her daughter again.

“Have a fabulous day, I gotta change a stinky nappy.”

Ending the call, he decided to order some food, the last thing on his mind at the moment was to prepare something. At least he got a great deal by keeping his daughter busy with the balloons and that granted him a few minutes to stand outside in the balcony to smoke a cigarette while keeping an eye on his baby.

And the rest of his day went just like that between naps, babbling and the little sounds his daughter made. Later he’d pick a book to read to her.

****

Sunday finally arrived and after driving for a couple of hours, the girls left her by the apartment lobby first, so she made the trip to her floor quietly and since she didn’t tell Tommy what time they were coming back, she took the chance to surprise him.

He didn’t know, but she had been watching him in the baby monitor app on her phone. As a matter of fact her heart felt full last night when she realized her baby wouldn’t settle and after a couple of minutes, she saw Tommy getting up from the bed and climbing the crib -big enough to fit him-, to sleep with his baby.

She knew he was the best father their daughter could have.

And another proof was that moment while he was feeding Emma and he started singing a Romani song and ever so gently he explained their baby he came from gypsies and she too, had gypsy blood running in her veins. Y/N wanted to bottle the two of them along with those moments that made her confirm her deep love for that man.

But Y/N was the surprised one when she stepped into her apartment and found Tommy sleeping on the couch with Emma lying on his chest fast asleep, his arm wrapped around her back protectively. Her small hand closed in a tight fist over her bunny’s ear.

The image was instantly tattooed in her heart as a lifetime memory.

And she knew, her heart was full and that this was an endless love.

Master list

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, remember your feedback is always the way to a writer’s heart ♥️✨

Oh! I almost forgot.. Mr Napkin inspiration 👇🏻👇🏻

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @onlydeadcells @gretelshelby @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @blondie-22 @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @kmc1989 @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @lauren-raines-x @everythingelseisextra @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @lau219 @red-riding-wood

#That’s what Cill said #tommy shelby x reader #modern tommy shelby imagine #modern tommy shelby #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #modern peaky blinders #modern alfie solomons #Alfie Solomons x rose

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writingstoraes · 1 year

Note

Hey! Your social media fics are so freaking cute, I love them so much 🥹 If you do take requests, could you please do one which is Charles x singer!reader (who's pretty famous, on like a Taylor Swift or Selena Gomez level) announcing their relationship or just like a random vacation post? Thank you so much, I hope I didn't make the request too long <33

relationship release 💿

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!singer!reader

type: instagram imagine/social media au

notes: tysm for requesting this, anon 🤍 my first time doing a request so i hope you like it! used hailee steinfeld for the faceclaim :') not revised so please expect errors hehe lmk what u think!

about: you and charles go public just in time for your album release!

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, zendaya, charles_leclerc, and 3,582,918 others

yourusername A photo dump to commemorate the busiest months of my life 📷 from recording my new album (which I am very excited for you guys to hear), taking time for myself, to rehearsing for my world tour. Grateful to be doing what I am passionate about every single day of my life ❤️

zendaya You look amazing, can't wait for the album, love! 💋💋

y/nqueen MAM DID U JUST SOFT LAUNCH A MAN

filmsy/n ik what the fuck she did not just casually drop a soft launch in the middle of the noise of her new album 😭

popgirlsz Am I seeing this right or is the queen of pop in a relationship....

selenagomez Excited for the tour ❤️ Will be in front row for sureeee

singzqueen THIS IS NOT A DRILL SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND OH MY GODDDD

f1fan Oh my god Charles liked? Maybe hes the guy 🫣

popthusiast u reaching too much lmaooo maybe hes just a fan

yourusername

liked by ashleybenson, florencepugh, billieeilish, and 3,981,234 others

yourusername My new album Red Letters comes out in 3 days. ❤️ It has been an incredible journey working on this masterpiece and I cannot wait for you guys to enter the pages of the stories I want to share. Red Letters is all about being wrapped in a heart-shaped dynamic, letting an amalgamation of sensations embrace us as we finally let love in.

As for me, well, loving him has always been red.

florencepugh Loving everything already and it's not even out yet! Such amazing work you've done ❣️

taylorswift My girl ❤️

popgirly/n girlie telling us her new album is about love after soft launching a week ago oh i cant breathe

lanadelslays She knows how to keep us on the hook 😭

yn4ever "Loving him has always been red" QUEEN WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

popfan21 guy lucky as hell imagine being talked about like that... by y/n... living his best life fr

ynlover THE PICTURE IS SO CUTE TOO THATS PROBABLY THEM

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55, lewishamilton, and 1,997,239 others

charles_leclerc Immensely excited about the Red Letters release: not only because of the new, amazing music Y/N will be sharing to the world but because today is the day I get to show everyone the love of my life. Every day it feels like I'm in a fever dream because I'm with someone so talented, charming, and kind.

Mon angè, you never fail to amaze me. My heart is full just seeing you conquer the world. Je tàime, yourusername ❤️

PS. I guess I am the red guy, yes?

carlossainz55 Finally! Charles has been waiting for this moment for quite some time now 🤣

danielricciardo Okay we see you Mr. Red Guy 👀

zendaya Take care of her or there will be consequences!

ilpredestinato KINGGGG SO DESERVED U GUYS ARE SO CUTE

charlos1655 such a hot couple too god they are so

pierregasly Finally went to Y/N's concert without wearing a disguise I am happy for you mate 👏

itpopgirl power couple ugh we love to see it

---------

tagging: @slytherheign hope ure doing well mwah

notes: this took me some time lmao anyways pls bare w me if i use the same usernames for the fan reactions on twitter its so harddd thinking of new usernames everytime 😭 i hope u liked this, anon! lmk what u guys think <33 tysm for reading!

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storeecbrcod · 7 months

Text

In light of recent events (watch your back, Activision), I’d like to share a domestic Ghoap thought, or add to an existing one.

Soap and Ghost, living together. Whether it’s on leave, or after their time in the military, whatever. Usually, they take turns cooking; Soap is a good cook, whipping up delicious and hearty meals like his hands were guided by God himself (even if it looked closer to a failing juggling act despite the results, much to Ghost’s amusement). Ghost likes cooking, even if his food isn’t as good as Soap’s, because he likes doing things for Soap to help him. He likes taking some pressure off of his partner if he’s had a bad or tiring day (acts of service, amiright?).

Soap loves cooking. It occupies his mind, it’s something he’s got a natural knack for, and the end result is always worth the effort. While he’s never been one for instructions, he’s always shadowed his mam in the kitchen, which has compounded over the years despite not really having a space to cook since he was 18 unless he was on leave. All in all, it’s cathartic and helps him overcome his pestering perfectionism with small accidents that have no effect on the heavenly result, most of the time.

One day, Johnny tried baking. Unlike cooking, it’s not quite as smooth. Whether it’s baking paper that won’t rip right and won’t sit in the tray, or accidentally messing up the measurements, or having to go out to the store again because he forgot something, or trying his hardest to stir every little lump out of the batter, it just isn’t working right. He’s frustrated, struggling to understand why nothing was working as the recipe says it should, and he’s about ready to throw the batch of still lumpy batter at the wall.

Ghost, having been out on some errands, walks into the apartment to complete silence. There was always some sort of noise; music, tv, Soap’s own humming or playful singing or laughter. Now, though, it was eerily quiet, and Ghost couldn’t help but revert to creeping around silently, trying to find Soap.

When he enters the kitchen, he sees a scene. Flour spilled onto the counter and ground, a batter-covered spatula lying on the counter surrounded by opened containers of ingredients, and a metal bowl of batter sitting amongst it all, alone. As Ghost rounded the island, he found Soap sitting on the ground, legs out in front of him and his back against the corner of the cabinets.

If it wasn’t for the pure defeat on Soap’s face, Ghost would have laughed. Instead, he sighed, his concern melting to calm. He placed his wallet, keys, and handful of mail on an empty space of counter, then sat next to Soap on the floor in silence for a few minutes. He could practically feel the frustration rolling off of the other man, Soap’s jaw clenching and unclenching in silent irritation.

“What do you call a baker holding sugar in both his hands?”

Silence.

“Ambidextrous.”

A reluctant snicker later, Soap’s burying his face against Ghost’s shoulder, groaning.

“Ye’r fuckin’ insufferable, Lt.”

“And you’re a useless baker.”

“Aye.”

“C’mon, I’ll help.”

Ghost helps Soap finish up, fixing the batter as much as he could and setting it in the baking tray. They cleaned up as it baked, though somehow Ghost ended up with a face full of flour, and Soap ended up with his shit-eating grin being wiped off his face in surprise when a white handprint ended up on his ass with an accompanying chuckle.

When the offending brownies were finally done, they tried them.

“Steamin’ Jesus, these are incredible.”

“Not bad.”

“What d’ye mean? They’re beautiful, Simon!”

“Needed salt. And batter was over beaten, but yeah. Not bad.”

For Soap, it was yet another surprising thing he’s learnt about Simon in his time of knowing him. He was a damn good baker, a talent he’ll be looking to take advantage of in the future.

For Ghost, it was the first time in a long time where the memories of his childhood weren’t exclusively bad. Right now, with Johnny, he could almost feel his mother’s hands on his shoulders, a whispered “Good job, baby,” breathed against his ear like she used to in their own kitchen, with their own batch of brownies.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw ghost #cod mw soap #ghoap #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #cod drabble #ghostsoap #soapghost #domestic ghostsoap never fails to make me happy #soap is a great cook and ghost is a great baker #soap is me fr though

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sneverussape · 1 year

Text

“minerva? are you decent? albus informed me that i must escort you to the Great Hall for breakfast, seeing as it’s your first full day back.”

“really, severus! i never knew you to be a gentleman.”

“rest assured i am not, madam. merely following orders from our illustrious leader…hang on, you said you were dressed!”

“i am, boyo, do you see me opening my door to you with only my undergarments on?”

“no, but…your hair. you havent tied it round yet.”

“ah. side effect of my convalescence. can hardly lift my arms up round my head.”

“surely the house elves could assist you?”

“severus! it will be cold day in hades before i request a house elf to assist me with such vanities. i was able to dress myself adequately. the students will not mind a different hairstyle on me now and again.”

“like hell…sit down, woman.”

“if you so much as touch that brush, young man!”

“get a hold of yourself, minerva. i do know my way around a hairbrush and bobby pins.”

“i find that hard to believe!”

“my da used to do my mam’s hair when i was a boy, into buns and plaits and things. i did it for my mam later on, when da was too busy at the mill. i did lil—my friends’ plaits sometimes as well.”

“by hand? severus snape, you never cease to amaze me. is that…when the lower form slytherins have their hair in fancy plaits during school holidays when they have to stay at the castle…is that your doing?”

“i’ve not the slightest idea what you’re pertaining to.”

“oh, severus, you are a marvel.”

“if you breathe a word of this to anyone, i’ll have peeves string you up from the highest turret, mark my words.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it. now i believe you were about to demonstrate your hidden talents…?”

“…utterly insufferable. sit down then.”

“thank you, severus.”

“highest turret, don’t forget.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it.”

—

after the umbridge era incident which lands minerva in st mungo’s, the potions master shows his relief at her return to the school by offering to do her hair

aka

severus’ love language is acts of service

#my art #this scenario just popped into my head and i couldn’t get rid of it #snape #mcgonagall #hp

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ur-dad-satan · 5 months

Text

I folded

This is a bunch of pictures/collages of the miniskirts and thigh highs I need to put the brothers in.

Red is Luci's color so why not put him in something so shiny with some basic black thigh highs for a tinge of class. I need to see his face the same color of this skirt.

I need Mam in this with gold accessories looking pretty on the floor begging to -... Black would look so good on him and the little white stripes would just be perfect to pull it all together.

Levi wouldn't mind wearing the outfit so to get the reaction I want, I'm gonna put that little weeb in the shortest sluttiest skirt I can find. Then I'm gonna wreck him like the pretty little slut he is.

This green would be so pretty on him and the and bring out the color of his eyes. The cute little kitty paws would be so fucking cute on him but he would blush to hell and back.

The pink and the white lace just makes him look so fucking pretty and stuff but in a classy way. He would lean into the role so good and I'd let him fu-

This is probably the shortest skirt I could find for the biggest (tallest and buffest) of the bros. The green just works so well but they would barely go up his thighs cause he's so fucking BUILT!! I would let that man do any and everything he wanted to me holy shit I need him.

He would look so comfy in this and the blue and pink contrast is so fucking amazing. They both look so comfy and I just NEED to see belphie in pink and blue.

Ugh, it's such a shame that these men are fictional and I CAN'T put them in these pretty little outfits. IF ONLY THERE WAS A TALENTED ARTIST ABLE TO DRAW REALLY WELL AND PUT THEM IN THESE PRETTY LITTLE OUTFITS!!

#obey me shitpost #obey me crack #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me brothers #obey me brainrot #i need them #i wanna put them in cute little outfits so bad.#im going feral

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humanpurposes · 10 months

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Just for a Moment, part i

Tom Bennett has a habit of climbing through her bedroom window whenever he's in trouble // Main Masterlist

Tom Bennett x OFC

Warnings: 18+, mentions of war and death, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Words: 3800

A/n: Me? Starting another series to avoid updating ongoing fics? No wayyyy. This is going to be a 4 part mini series and their song is When the Sun Hits by Slowdive, just so you know. Also available to read on AO3.

Tom Bennett had always had a talent for getting under people’s skin.

Kitty knew it when they were kids, when they’d run around the streets of Longsight and the alleyways behind Slade Grove. He would rile anyone up, regardless if they were older or bigger than him. He didn’t even do it for a reason, he just liked to get a raise out of people.

He used to tease her too, for all sorts of stupid reasons, because she was a year younger than him, because her mother used to dress her in shirts and shorts that used to belong to her older brothers, because when they’d buy bags of Yorkshire mix from the shop, she would only eat the red ones. Every Sunday after Church, they’d sit in the park or on the front step of the Bennetts’ house, and Tom would pick out every sweet he knew she liked, and keep the rest for himself.

When Tom was eleven he moved to the big school, where Kitty’s brothers all went, Eddie, Art and Stevie. Eddie was a prefect. He used to come home with all sorts of stories of Tom Bennett, ‘from over the road’. Tom talked back to his teachers, disrupted assemblies, picked fights with other kids, every offence Kitty’s mind could imagine.

It only got worse when his mam died.

Thursday 12th July, 1928

Kitty had never been to a funeral before. She had a new dress and a black overcoat for the occasion. It was cold in the church graveyard, overcast and windy. Mam had held her hand so tightly she wondered if she’d ever get it back.

The Bennetts stood together, on the other side of the grave. Lois’ hair was braided into a messy plait that stuck out on one side, the ribbon at the end tied into a knot rather than a bow. She was trying to hold her father’s shoulder as he cried, but she couldn’t quite reach. Tom stood a little further away from his father. His hair was messy, his knees scabbed and bruised, his shirt skewed and the buttons done in the wrong places.

Kitty kept her eyes on him, all through the service, the burial and the wake back at number 27. Tom didn’t cry once.

That night, when she should have been asleep, she lay awake in her bed, listening to her brothers whispering and in the next room as they always did. Sometimes she felt sad to be left out of their antics, but tonight she was glad to be on her own, in her little box room at the front of the house.

Until she heard a tapping on the window.

She froze between her sheets. Was it too late for it to have been a bird?

And then it came again, tap, tap, tap.

With a determined little huff, she rose from the bed, smoothed her hands down the front of her nightgown and drew back the curtains.

“Tom?” she whispered.

He grinned when he saw her, perched on the windowsill behind the glass.

Kitty raised the window and before she could invite him in he was crawling through it.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

Tom shrugged and went to sit on the edge of her bed. He glanced around the room, at the little shelf of books, dolls and small wooden animals, the black overcoat hung on the back of the door and the drawings stuck to the wardrobe. He’d been in the Wheelans’ kitchen before, but he’d never been allowed upstairs.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, far too loudly for Kitty’s liking.

She pressed a firm finger against his lips. She held her breath, waiting for one of the lads to notice, but they kept on chatting– whatever it was teenage boys chatted about.

“Keep your voice down,” she said.

Tom smiled against her finger and made a cross over his heart.

She sat beside him, swaying her legs while she tried to think of something to say.

Tom reached for a book on her bedside table and flicked through the pages. When he was bored of that, he grabbed her teddy. He tossed it about in his hands and ran his hands over the ancient and matted fur. It had been Eddie’s, back in the day. Every single one of her brothers had owned it before her.

“I don’t like seeing my dad cry,” Tom said.

Kitty frowned. “Why not?”

“I just don’t like it. He’s always been a bit…”

Dad had often mentioned the case of Douglas Bennett. They had fought in the same regiment in 1914. When Micheal Wheelan came back from war, he returned as a self-proclaimed hero. His boys loved to hear his stories and take turns wearing his medals. Douglas Bennett had returned to Manchester a far more troubled kind of man.

“And with mum he–” but he stopped himself with an irritated grunt. “Can I stay here?”

“What?”

“Not forever, I just… can I sit here, just for a moment?”

Kitty took the teddy from him and placed her hand firmly in his. “That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?”

From then on, Tom made quite a habit of appearing at the window and hiding in her room whenever he was in trouble.

Saturday 2nd September, 1939

Being up and out before the boys are awake is a strange feeling, it’s the only time the house is so quiet.

It’s just before dawn. The sky is a hazy shade of dark blue but an orange glow is starting to appear over the rooftops. Mr Gregory wants her in the shop early to help with a delivery.

Something draws her eyes from her black leather shoes on the pavement, up to the end of the street. A figure makes his way down Slade Grove. She recognises the sway of his shoulders and the end of a lit cigarette in his mouth.

“Alright, pretty Kitty?” Tom says when they’re in earshot of each other, taking the cigarette between his fingers. “What are you doing up so late?”

“It’s early,” she says. He’s in a jacket and slacks, and he has a dazed sort of look in his eyes. She can guess where he’s been but it doesn’t stop her from asking. “What have you been up to?”

“Don’t give me that look,” he says, taking another drag. He tilts his chin up and exhales the smoke above their heads through pouted lips. “Just been down the pub, nothing scandalous.”

A likely story. She’s seen the police knocking on their front door twice in four weeks.

“How’s your job in the shop going?” he asks.

It was supposed to be temporary, a little money to make ends meet after dad got laid off from the factory. Six months later and she’s still there.

“Grand,” she says.

“Can you do me mates rates on a packet of Marlboros?”

“Yeah, if you promise to actually buy them.”

He clutches his chest and his face lights up in an ironic expression. “Of course, what sort of man do you take me for?”

The sort who used to sell cigarettes in the schoolyard— God knows how he got his hands on them in the first place. At that age he could talk himself out of anything. That’s what makes Tom Bennett every parent’s worst nightmare, he’s a troublemaker with pretty blue eyes and an infectiously charming smile.

“I should get going,” she says, taking another step until Tom moves in front of her. Her eyes meet with the collar of his jacket and the hollow of his throat. She can smell the musk of the pub on him, the cigarette smoke and the faded scent of his aftershave.

She looks up to his face and his expression has changed, not quite smiling but amused, smug and somewhat severe.

“What?” she says impatiently.

“Nothing,” he says, unphased, “have a good shift.”

The morning drags on at a gruelling pace. Mr Gregory’s getting on a bit now so Kitty has to do a lot of the heavy lifting, piling boxes into the storage room round the back, going through the stock in the shop, filling the shelves, flattening the boxes and bringing them to the bins outside. It feels like hours of work, but when she looks at the clock it’s not even 9. Eight hours until closing. Mr and Mrs Gregory live above the shop, so at least she gets a steady supply of tea, toast and bits of carrot cake.

By the afternoon she feels her eyes start to close. The morning rush is over now and business will dwindle for the rest of the day. She tries to stay awake, fanning herself with her blouse and nibbling on little mouthfuls of cake.

The bell above the door rings. She straightens her spine and smooths down her apron, ready to put on her best customer service voice, only for Tom Bennett to swagger in through the door.

He’s changed his clothes and donned a blue jacket instead of the earthy green she had seen him in earlier.

“Did you get enough sleep?” Kitty asks at the heavy look under his eyes.

He grins it off. “Packet of Marlboros please, Miss Wheelan.”

She fetches them from the cabinet behind the counter and places the packet in front of him. His aftershave smells a little stronger now. “Anything else?”

He drums his fingers against the counter, looking around innocently at the array of chocolate bars and the jars of sweets behind her.

“I’ll have a bag of Yorkshire mix,” he says.

She takes the jar down from the shelf. She can hear him breathing steadily through his nose as she scoops the sweets into a paper bag. When she turns back around he’s watching her.

“Nine pence,” she says, swallowing down a nervous feeling in her throat.

Tom counts through some change from his pocket and drops the coins into her hands, a sixpence and a thruppence. His fingertips brush over her palms and his knuckles are scabbed over. She dreads to think why.

“Nice one,” he says once she puts the payment through the till. “What do you make of this stuff going on in Poland then?” he says, popping a pear drop into his mouth.

She’s only been reading the headlines of the papers when she stocks them in the shop every morning, or hearing snippets from dad’s radio.

“Since when did you start taking an interest in foreign affairs?” she asks.

He reaches into the bag and pulls out a raspberry. “Been reading the news, haven’t I?” he says, holding it out for her.

She hesitates for a moment before she takes it. She lets the sugar melt over her tongue. It tastes like summer afternoons after school and weekends in the park, tearing at the grass and watching the boys play football because they’d never let her join in.

“That’s where Harry is, isn’t it?” she says, “Lois must be worried.

Tom tuts and tucks the bag into his pocket. “Posh boys can talk their way out of anything,” he says. “Speaking of, I met Madge’s new man last night.”

“At the pub?”

“Yeah. Right ponce in’t he?”

She purses her lips in irritation. She hates it when he does this, poking fun at others until he feels better about himself. “He’s training to be a barrister.”

“Like I said.”

She shrugs. “I suppose there are worse jobs to have.”

“Is that what you’ll do then? Find some rich boy with a big house and stick up his arse?”

It’s not quite the future she has planned out for herself. Her friend Madge is a secretary in Manchester. There are all sorts of exams she had to pass, but it could be doable. Mam’s always tried to put her off it though. “Parents need their girls,” she says.

“I don't think I’m likely to find any of those in Longsight. Maybe I should ask Lois for advice?” she says, trying not to smile.

“Steady there, Kitty, I didn’t mean to get you all excited,” he says, leaning into the counter. His voice is lower all of a sudden, it sends an odd, jittery feeling though her chest and stomach.

He winks at her before he turns and leaves. The bell rings and the shop is quiet again.

Her feet feel heavy when she walks through the front door. Her bed calls her name but she’s unbearably thirsty. Saturdays are half days and the boys are already home from the factory. Mam’s started on dinner and the others are around the kitchen table.

Dad waves a blue leaflet at her. “One of Douglas Bennett’s pacifist… things,” he says.

“Do you really think there’ll be a war, dad?” Kitty says, shrugging off her coat.

“If there is, it won’t be long,” he says with a determined nod, “no one wants another war.”

Eddie and Art hum in agreement. The oldest of the four Wheelan siblings, they were born before dad went away to war. Their faces are older and more stern, like they can still remember a time when they didn’t have their father around. They still call Stevie and Kitty “the babies,” which she thinks must make them feel more important.

Stevie’s in good spirits though. “Ran into Lois and Connie on the bus, and Connie personally invited me to their gig tonight!” he says brightly.

“Come off it,” Art grumbles, “she was just being friendly.”

“Kitty!” Stevie sings, waltzing over to her. He takes her coat from her hands and twirls her around the kitchen, to mam’s despair. “Come to the Fiddler’s Bow with me tonight, please.”

“So you can ditch me for Connie once their set’s done?”

“There’ll be other people there,” Stevie says, turning her around to face their brothers, “or ask one of these grumpy bastards to join us.”

“Stephen Wheelan!” their mother chides.

Eddie and Art share a pointed look and shake their heads, already backing away towards the front room.

In the end she decides she’ll just have to brave it. After eating, she changes into a flowy, white blouse and an emerald green skirt, pinning her hair up so it won’t go everywhere as she moves. She hides a tube of lipstick inside her purse. Mam and dad would rather die than let her leave the house with makeup. She only owns a lipstick because Lois Bennett had given her one.

Stevie brushes up well, in a white shirt and freshly shined leather shoes, his hair slicked back with wax. They run into each other on the landing and race downstairs.

Mam gives them the usual instructions. Home by 11 o'clock and not a minute later. One drink each. No smoking. No noise when they get in.

Stevie’s already pulling a packet of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket when they’re halfway through the front door.

And Kitty’s breath hitches when, for the third time that day, she sees Tom Bennett. He’s hovering in the doorway, putting empty milk bottles out. When he notices them, he smiles. “Off somewhere nice?” he says.

“Fiddler’s Bow,” Stevie calls back, “to see Lois and Connie play.”

“She’s down there already,” Tom says, his eyes flickering to Kitty for only a moment, “left half an hour ago.”

He’s in a white t-shirt now, that’s just a little too tight against his torso.

“Why don’t you join us?” Kitty says without thinking it through. “Stevie’s going for Connie, I’ll need a partner once he ditches me.”

Tom looks down at the pavement. His lips are thin and his hands fidget by his side. “I’ve um… got something else on tonight, ‘m sorry.”

Her heart sinks. Any lighthearted hope she had about enjoying the evening dissolves right in front of her. Right, of course, because why would he actually want to spend more than a few moments with her?

“Movin’ on,” Stevie says, steering Kitty down the road with a brief farewell to Tom. “He’s no good, you know that?” he whispers in her ear. “Eddie says he nicks scrap metal from the yard, sells it to all sorts dodgy fuckers.”

“Yeah, I know,” she breathes. Her chest feels tight and suddenly she feels like she wants to cry.

Stevie has a good time at the gig. Lois and Connie are first in the lineup and once their set is over, Stevie makes a point of cheering the loudest. The four of them spend the rest of the night dancing.

When Stevie and Connie disappear outside for a smoke, Kitty drags Lois to the bar, to catch their breath and down glasses of tonic water. Lois drones on about her Harry issue, but having three older brothers who presume every word they say is profound and worthy of note, Kitty knows where to hum and nod without really listening.

They walk Connie home first before the three of them make their way to Slade Grove. The houses are quiet now, save for a few lights in the windows, creeping through drawn curtains. Two policemen are standing outside number 27.

“Have you seen your brother?” one of them calls to Lois when she reaches the door.

“No,” Lois says, “but if you see him before I do, will you tell him he’s in trouble?”

Kitty meets Stevie’s eyes and he raises his brows.

“Piss off,” she grumbles.

Mam and dad have gone to bed, but Eddie and Art are playing cards in the front room— or they should be. Eddie is standing by the window, peering through the curtains.

“Who are they after?” Eddie asks.

“Who do you think?” Kitty mutters, but she doesn’t stay to hear another rant about ‘troublesome Tom Bennett’, and slips her shoes off before she makes her way upstairs.

It can’t be said Tom doesn’t make an impression on the people he meets. Mam and dad still have a soft spot for him, though less so since he’s started getting into trouble with the police, and the lads seem to outright despise him.

She’d be lying if she said he didn’t find him irritating, to a certain degree. Maybe it’s because he’s cocky, maybe it’s because he used to be surprisingly sweet, or maybe it’s because nothing seems to phase him, but something about Tom Bennett makes her restless.

She wipes off her lipstick, takes out the pins in her hair and changes into her nightgown. Her eyes feel heavy, but tomorrow is Sunday, which means the shop will be closed and she can have a whole day of ‘freedom’, so long as that includes helping with the laundry and the dinner.

Dad’s snores are evident and the boys are still distracted downstairs, they’ve even put the radio on by the sound of it.

She’s about to turn off the light when she hears three taps on the window.

He knows it’s unlocked. The window slides up and Tom squeezes through it, slipping his boots off so he doesn’t make too much noise when he plants his feet on the floor. He goes straight to the bed, making himself comfortable over the throw with his hands under his head.

“Lois says the police have been round,” he says quietly.

She looks down at her hands, nervously playing with the fabric of her nightgown. “I saw.”

He turns his head to where she stands. The lamp hits his face like sunlight, catching the sharp features of his face, the point of his nose and the curve of his lips.

She nudges him closer to the wall, making some space for herself beside him. Her body rests against his. He smells like smoke and fresh air.

“What did you do this time?” she asks.

He doesn’t give her an answer. In a way she thinks she’d rather not know.

His arm falls around her and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Nights with him are often like this, quiet, just two people existing in the same space.

He turns on his side to face her. “Can I stay the night?”

“Tom,” she whispers, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Please, or I’ll have to sleep on a couch in the pub.”

“Are you mad? can you imagine what Eddie’ll do if he sees you walking out my bedroom in the morning?”

“Kitty,” he hums. He brings his hand to her face, gently stroking his thumb over her cheek. His eyes are wide and pleading. “Please.”

It’s in moments like this when she hates Tom the most, when her heart thrums in her chest and she wants nothing more than to lose herself in the feeling of his skin against hers. When their heads are so close together, all she sees are two blue eyes.

Each time she thinks she wants to close the distance between them, something stops her.

Neither of them ever dare to move closer than this.

She reaches to turn off the light and turns back to Tom. Her head falls into his chest and her arm settles around his waist. She falls asleep to the pulse of his heartbeat, the sound of his breath and the warmth of his body.

And by the time the sun shines in through the window, he’s gone.

Sunday 3rd September, 1939

She appears in the kitchen just after 11 o’clock. Her body feels heavy and her eyes are still tired. She shouldn’t have gone back to sleep after she woke up the first time.

Dad’s fiddling with the radio, Art’s pouring tea into six cups, and Eddie and mam are listening to Steive’s retelling of the previous night. He seems incredibly proud of himself, despite the fact the closest he came to kissing Connie was lighting her cigarette.

She helps Art with the tea. They all like it the same way. Strong, with one sugar and a little dash of milk.

It might almost be a perfect morning, if dad were listening to something more uplifting than the news.

“How about some music?” she says as she hands him his cup, but he doesn’t take it. His eyes are fixed on the radio, and his hands are shaking.

“Dad…”

Art appears over her shoulder and turns up the volume. “Quiet,” he says, and the others fall silent.

A voice speaks through the crackles in the transmission, “consequently, this country is at war with Germany.”

Kitty looks at the faces around her, Eddie and Art glaring furiously, Stevie’s wide eyes and his lips fallen like a child’s, mam and dad’s haunted sorrow.

The transmission ends and she wishes it didn’t, it would save her from the grave silence in the house.

She decides to make herself busy. She washes out an empty milk bottle and goes to leave it by the door.

When she opens the door the two policemen are back, only now they’re walking out of the Bennetts’ house.

Her heart sinks. They have Tom in handcuffs.

His eyes meet hers across the road. He doesn’t make a fuss, or try to protest. He hangs his head as they walk him down the street.

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince (comment to be added)

Series taglist: (comment to be added)

#my fics #tom bennett #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #world on fire #wof #world on fire bbc #world on fire season 2 #world on fire fanfiction #tom bennett x ofc #tom bennett x female reader #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennet x reader #ewan mitchell #tom bennett smut

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