lesbian stoner loser

whenever you're around other people he always has to be touching you. whether it be holding your hand, having his hand on your knee or sitting close enough for your legs to be touching, there always has to be contact.

it's worse in public. he grips your hand like you've just fallen off a cliff and he's trying to pull you back up. his arm wraps around your waist, holding you so close you feel like you might get absorbed into him.

when you're standing on the street, waiting for a bus, train, whatever, he's clinging onto you with a hug, almost completely encompassing your body with his own. if the weather is cold enough, he'll go a step further and wrap his jacket around you with him still wearing it.

you often see him staring down anyone who looks at you, or worse, approaches you. the more interested they seem, the more threatening his glare is. it doesn't matter if they're a complete stranger, old acquaintance, friend or RFA member.

you'll catch him staring at your phone screen over your shoulder. over time he starts losing himself in reading your conversations, forgetting to be as sneaky as he once was. who could you be talking to? what about? why would you rather text someone than spend time with him?

if he feels like you're on your phone for too long he'll get upset. you have about 5 seconds after his first huff before he's whining for your attention. he'll pout at you, staring incessantly as he tosses around, impatient and dramatic. sometimes he'll skip this step entirely and go straight to prying your phone away, sticking his face in yours, expecting immediate affection after being deprived for seemingly long enough to die.

when you sleep together he holds you tight. it would be so endearing, but when he's asleep and you need to go to the bathroom, or just want to get into a more comfortable position, it's rendered impossible by the grasp he has on you. the only thing you can do is slightly turn your head. even your hands are stuck, so you can't tap his arm to wake him.

when you're away from him he calls you a lot more than would be considered normal. if he stays home while you go for a quick little grocery run he'll find excuses to call you at least 3 times. did you make it to the store safely? we remembered to add eggs to the shopping list, right? when will you be back and do you need help carrying anything?

if he could have it his way neither of you would ever leave the house. all your time would be spent with each other. cuddling, cooking, kissing, talking, sleeping, doesn't matter what you do as long as you're together with no one else interrupting in any capacity.

it's not that he doesn't trust you. he's not paranoid that you'll leave him for someone else. he just wants you to only be with him. only talk to him. only think of him. he does, so why wouldn't you?

“With the Demon Lord?” Mammon whined out, “How did this even come up!”

“He brought it up, Mammon, not me!” You argued, crossing your arms over your chest, huffing, “What did you even think I said to him? We just started dating!” 

“nuh-uh. This is not happening, treasure.”

“I know you did not just nuh-uh me.” You shot your partner a look, and he puffed out his cheeks. 

“Diavalo hasn’t even told Devildom you guys are official yet!” Mammon argued, sitting next to you on his pool table, plopping his head in your lap like a sad puppy. “And you wanna have a baby with him? HIM?”

“Mammon-”

“Like, what does he have that I don’t? I’m your first, ya’ know. I mean-”

“Mammon.” You carded your fingers through his white hair, and he ceased all talking to look into your eyes. “I’m not having a baby with Dia,” His eyes lit up like shiny gold coins, “I told him no. Especially because we just made ourselves official. If we said yes, we would’ve skipped like a thousand steps in a new relationship, plus-”

“And cause he’s totally lame, right, and not hot at all. Okay, maybe a little hot his tits are like so much bigger than yours.” Mammon rambled, reaching up and squeezing your breast for emphasis, and you shot him a dirty look. He smirked, “Honk,” he squeezed it teasingly, and you sighed at his antics. 

“No idiot. I told him no because I want to have a baby with you first.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Mammon jolted up, hand still on your boob, “You wanna have a baby with me.” You swore if he had a tail, it’d be wagging, “and not the Demon Lord? All mine?”

“You’re making it weird, Mammon…” you couldn’t hide the smile from spreading across your lips, “but yeah, I promised you, didn’t I? That you’d be the first to everything. What do you say,” mused watching as horns fizzled onto his forehead “Want to be the first to make me a mommy?”

“Fuck yeah, treasure.” Mammon flipped you over so your back was pressed against the cool pool table. His wings spread behind him as he pinned you against the table; you hummed pleasantly, laying your hands against his chest, nails tapping on the buttons. 

“Off puppy.” 

“Yes, ma’am!” Mammon barked, unbuttoning his top and tossing it aside, flexing his muscles, keeping an eye out for your reactions. It seemed optimistic as you eyed him hungrily, tongue sticking out of your bottom lip, “You too, treasure. Wanna see my pact mark.” He purred, leaning down to nip tenderly at your ear. He felt your chest move with a soft giggle, 

“Don’t you want to rip it off me?” You teased, and Mammon’s wings fluttered a few beats, tearing your top down the middle and letting your breasts bounce in your bra. It was a gorgeous black with gold accents on cups, just Mammon’s style. 

“God, look at you,” He practically pants, hand palming your breast through your bra, squeezing tenderly, “perfect for me. Perfect for my babies.” He licked his fangs as you shuddered under his touch, your legs squeezed around his toned waist. “Aw? Does that turn you on? Me talking about making you a mommy?” You flushed, looking away from him, and he tutted, pointing a painted nail under your chin, “Come on baby, tell me you want it.” 

“I want it.” You breathed, looking him dead in the eyes, “wanna be a mommy, have your babies.” And Mammon sucked in a breath through his fangs, 

“Fuck yeah, you do. That’s so hot.” Mammon grinned, pressing a kiss to the middle of your breasts right where your pact mark with him sat, and it caused you both to shudder. “Do my brothers know?” 

“No, only you. Don’t you think Levi would let me anywhere near you if I told him you’d be my first-” You groaned as Mammon’s hips ground against yours, clearly enjoying this secret between you, “Or even Asmo. Still, we would have the opposite problem, and he’d fight you for who could get me pregnant first.” You teased with a hitching breath, feeling Mammon’s hand unclip your bra with ease, moving his mouth to take a nipple in your mouth. You moan, hands grabbing onto his horns, and he visibly shuddered under your hands, groaning around your bud. 

“Just imagining these puppies even bigger, as they fill with milk, is making me so fucking hard.” Mammon grinned, sucking marks onto the swell of your breaths, causing you to moan sweetly and squirm. 

“Stop teasing me.” You argue, tugging on his horns and pulling him away from your breasts; he tossed his head back with a deep groan, arms and body visibility quivering.

“Stop the pulling,” He growled voice low and gravely, 

“Why? You gonna cum?” You purred, rolling your hips against his prevalent hard-on, causing him to moan again. 

“Stop being a brat,” He hissed, but you both knew he didn’t have the same bite that Lucifer or Satan did when commanding you. So you just smirked, sliding your hand down Mammon’s low-rise jeans and cupping his heaviness gently. “S-Shit treasure come o-n-” A simple touch, and you have the Avatar of Greed in the palm of your hand, literally. You could practically see the tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as you worked him out of his jeans, “I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you.” He panted, kicking his pants to the side while sliding yours down and ripping your new panties to shreds. 

“Mammon! Those were new!” 

“You look better this way anyway.” Mammon mused, flicking your clit expertly with his fingers, causing you to twitch and suck in a breath through your teeth. “Shit baby, you’re so wet for me; you really wanna have my baby huh?” He slid his long fingers into you, and you moaned, your back arching off the table hotly. 

“Yes. Yes. Yes Mammon. Please fill me up; I want to feel you stretching me to my limit.” 

“Fuck yeah. Fuck baby,” He panted, sliding down his underwear messily, his cock springing free. You always loved his cock, it wasn’t overly large, but fuck was it thick and filled you up just perfectly.  “Lemme put it inside,”

“Do it.” You demanded, skipping the usual foreplay between the two of you; the atmosphere was too hot and heavy to skip to the main event. “Make me scream.” Mammon didn’t need any more encouragement as he slammed his entire length into you and screamed you did as nails dug into Mammon’s broad shoulders. His eyes were flared in greedy hunger, taking in the sigh of you taking his cock so well, relishing how your walls fluttered around him. 

“So tight, we’ll fix that right up,” Mammon groaned, consumed by lust. “Gonna pump you so full you’ll be dripping with me for days, and if none of my seed takes this time,” he slowly pumped his hips in and out of your body as the sound of skin on skin slapping filled the room. “We’ll fuck as many times a day it takes till you’re swollen with my litter,” He purred. Sticking his tongue out and licking a hot stripe up your neck, the room filled with your sounds of pleasure. “I know how much of a slut you are; how many of my babies do you want in you? Cause now that we’re getting started, I ain’t stopping.” He teased, hearing your whines pick up as you moved your hips in rhythm with his own. He could see the outline of his cock as it bulged inside you; he pressed down on his cock inside you, causing you both to moan loudly. “My little golden whore,” Mammon mused, kissing your lips and swallowing your moans with his mouth and tongue. Mammon felt the way your breathing began to hitch, “You close?” He watched you nod rapidly drool pooling out of your mouth, “Damn, I fucked you stupid, huh?” He snickered, and you moaned louder as he began to piston out of you at a much more aggressive rate. You could feel the tip of his cock brush against your cervix, begging for entrance into your fertile womb.

“MAMMON!” 

You level him with a pointed look. "Humiliating would be making you walk around like this. We're just in your room."

A red blush melts over the tanned skin of his cheeks, and oh, isn't that interesting?

Mammon kneels on the floor, wearing a disgruntled expression and a collar. Attached to the collar is a leash, which is casually looped around your closed fist. They're both made of baby-pink leather, sitting lurid and pretty against his tawny skin. It's unfortunate how good he looks with them, actually, the way the juts and veins of his throat disappear behind the thick band. A dainty silver heart adorns the front, practically begging for you to slip your fingers under and tug.

"Stupid Asmo," Mammon growls. "Stupid bet, stupid Demonus—"

"Stupid you?" you quip, then immediately retract it when you see the glower on his face. "I'm just saying, it's not like Asmo tricked you into agreeing. You're the one who had to make it a bet."

"'Cause I thought I'd get money," he whines. "Sweet, sweet money! Now this... that weirdo and his perverted mind."

You hum as though giving this some thought. "And me? What about my perverted mind?"

Mammon chokes on his own spit. "Wha... um... y-you—"

"Better yet," you say thoughtfully. "What about yours?"

"Mine?" Mammon echoes, ostensibly outraged. Two dark spots of colour burn bright on the apples of his cheeks. "Now I know you're crazy. What are ya—"

You tighten your fist 'till the leather creaks, and you tug. Hard.

Mammon's whole body jerks forwards towards the bed, and at the same time and airy groan spills forth from his lips. He braces his body against the edge of the mattress, large hands flying forward to grip the wooden frame, and then he looks up at you. His eyes are wide and round as the Grimm he covets so much, his cheeks perfectly scarlet above his open wet mouth.

"Wh—what are you playin' at?" he croaks. "Stupid human..."

"Y'know, you call me that a lot," you tell him conversationally, and scoot to the edge of the bed. Mammon audibly swallows as you kick your legs off the side, one on each side of his body, pushing into his thighs. His spine straightens ever-so-slowly, pushing his chin up to meet your eyes. "It's just—sorry. If I'm such a stupid human, how'd you end up here?"

"Wha—" Mammon licks his lips nervously. "What do ya—"

"You know. On your knees in front of me." Your hand loops through more of the leash, shortening the distance between your fist and the collar. "It's just—you know. If you're such a big, bad demon and all, and I'm just a stupid human... it shouldn't even be possible, right?"

"C'mon," he says weakly. "Ya know I didn't... 's not like that..."

"Oh, no?" Your brows knit together in such a cruel parody of concern that Mammon feels his stomach lurch. He absolutely should not be enjoying this as much as he is. But everytime you talk down to him like he's actually beneath you, he can feel a sort of film slipping over his brain. "You wanna know what I think?"

Mammon gets the vague sense that his question is rhetorical. He nods anyway, quick, instinctive. He can see all the shadows in your mouth when you smile.

"I think the reason you're here right now," you murmur. "Is that you like it. You like being under my control. You like when I tell you what to do. And you like kneeling on the ground for me, waiting for me to decide when you're worthy of being acknowledged. Isn't that right?"

Yes. "No!" he blurts out, so hot that he's starting to sweat. You look so sexy, all mean and sadistic leering down at him. Those piercing eyes, that little half-smile, like you can see right through him. Mammon shudders almost imperceptibly. He feels like a bird caught in a cage, and he likes it, and he hates that he likes it.

You consider this. "Oh. Okay. Well, then good news. I'm officially ending your punishment early."

Mammon looks at you blankly. "H-huh?"

"Yep! You can unfasten the collar at the back. Just be careful not to run into Asmo so he doesn't know you skimped out on your loss," you wink, and throw yourself back onto the bed, turning your attention fully to your DDD.

Mammon stays right where he is, dumbfounded. "Th—that's it?!"

He knows he's boned when you give him a sly look out of the corner of your eye. "I'm sorry," you say all innocently, and Mammon nearly curses. "Was there something else you wanted?"

Oh. You're fuckin' evil.

It's so, so hot.

He makes an unintelligible mumble.

You cup your hand to your ear. "Hm? Sorry, did you say something?"

Evil. Evil. Evil. "Pick the stupid leash back up, then."

Your sweet smile is all cavities and no sugar. "What's the magic word?"

Goddammit. "P... please?"

"Good boy!" You clap your hands together in ostensible delight, and Mammon shivers form the roots of his hair to the pits of his stomach. The way you sort of... coo at him. It should be disgusting, it should revolt him. Instead he can feel himself stiffening in his jeans. You lean over and kiss him on the head, pick the leash back up and wind it around your fingers. "That wasn't so hard, huh?"

"Human," Mammon whines, eyes screwed shut against this all-encompassing humiliation. "Please..."

"Come up here," you mutter fondly. Mammon scrambles so quickly that he trips over his own shoelaces and rises, blushing, but there's hardly time to be any more mortified than he already is before you're pushing him backwards onto his bed and climbing on top of him. His brain abruptly short-circuits; fuck, okay, okay—

"Breaths, Mams," you remind him gently, toying with his earlobe. Mammon sputters, turning away from your burning stare.

"Breathin' just fine," he mumbles, like you're not on top of him, silhouetted by his slick colour-changing lightbulbs like some freaky kaleidoscopic angel. Blue to red to green to purple, and you're backlit like a stageplay. A fuckin' violent one where everyone dies.

"You look so pretty," you croon, and Mammon's heart drops to his stomach. The slow, silk-soft tone of your voice is sending all his blood rushing to the wrong place. The right place? He can't decide. He hates how pliant you make him feel, but the truth is he's barely scrounging up the energy to put up much of a fight at all. You're gonna get sick twisted ideas about his psyche at this rate.

You might start to think he actually likes being bossed around by some naive little human.

As if.

"Come off it," he says weakly, fighting the urge to hide his face.

"Nah, it's comfy," you reply without a beat, and Mammo groans. He's definitely at least half-hard now, and with his shitty luck you can probably feel him pressing up against your thigh. "Want me to help you out with that?"

Mammon shoots you a surprised, suspicious look; it's not the first time he's suspected you can read his mind. He tucks his chin against his chest and nods.

You roll your pretty mean mean mean eyes. "Come on, Mams, meet me halfway here." A finger under his chin, guiding him back to look at you, and Mammon can't breathe. He's suffocating under you, but in a sort of nice way, a way that makes him feel a bit less like himself, also in a sort of nice way. He doesn't know. It's confusing. You do fucked up things to head. "Good boys use their words."

His throat sticks. For a moment he imagines he'll tell you to piss right off, you uppity human, he's the Mammon, okay, so he doesn't need you clambering all over him and telling him what's what, right, so you can very well just—

"Pleaaaase touch me, yer bein' so mean," he whines, lower lip wobbling. "I'll be good, okay, I'll be real good so just s-stop teasin' me already and just—"

"Okay, okay," you giggle softly. "Don't strain yourself. You sound so pretty begging for me, Mammon." Your hands on him, finally, gliding up under his shirt and running over the warm skin there. Every callus and ridge on your skin catches on a ribcage and he has to bite back a desperate groan each time. You waste no time pulling his shirt up and off, though you have to do some careful maneuvering to get it over the leash which leaves you both laughing weakly.

You press kisses to his collarbones, his neck and chest, and it's nice, it's real nice and he has a fleeting thought that he could probably do this forever and it would be cool, like, he wouldn't ever even have to eat again or nothin' if it meant this was his morning noon and night. But every brush of your lips against his sensitive skin is making his cock twitch in his jeans, and he's so fuckin' hard now that it hurts. He makes a whimpery, pathetic kind of noise when you press a carefully orchestrated kiss to the skin under the collar.

"Don't worry," you hum, lips and then teeth skating over the skin of his naval. Mammon tosses his head back against the comforter with a moan. "I'll take care of you. My favourite pet. Promise."

Pet. The word ricochetes through his body like a bullet, setting every nerve it hits alight.

Your hands on his belt buckle makes a small, panicked noise escape from somewhere in his throat, and whilst your hands occupy themselves you lunge forward to kiss him. Mammon groans, melting back into the covers as you kiss him stupid, his hands flying up to cup the back of your neck, the side of your face. The hot flash of your tongue in his mouth distracts him enough so that he barely feels the flash as his jeans are yanked down. It's only when your pinky finger slips under the waistband of his boxers that he drags himself back from the kiss with a shaky gasp. Blown eyes follow the taut line of your arm to where it rests on his pubic bone.

In your eyes is taunting, but there's also a question. "Still okay?"

Mammon feels the strange urge to cry. Damn you, bein' all sweet. The way you can turn it around on him makes him feel so lost sometimes. He likes it when you get a little mean, sure, loves the darkness that blows your eyes and the mean steely smirk that makes your face look, just, so much sexier—but Mammon loves you. And he loves you 'cause you're patient with him, 'cause you're kind. And 'cause you love him too.

He hides his face in his elbow and says "If you don't touch me in the next thirty goddamn seconds I'm gonna lose my fuckin' mind."

A giggle, and the tension breaks. "Alright, alright, you big baby." He gasps, spine arching off the bed when you pin his erection to his stomach. "Just lie back like a good little pet and trust me, 'kay?"

You peel off his soaked boxers. Mammon waits, tense, for your fingers around his cock, or your mouth or something but when nothing happens for a good few seconds he cracks open an eye tentatively. You're leaning away from him, facing the bedside table. His stomach twists once he realises what you're looking for.

Ohhhhhkay, okayokayokay—

You turn back with a bottle of lube that's—actually, it's going dry at an alarming rate. Mammon can't quite bring himself to feel embarrassed about it, especially as he watches you deftly uncap it and coat two of your fingers.

"What's—" Mammon swallows hard. "What's the, uhh... what's the plan?"

"You're gonna cum on my fingers," you say matter-of-factly, tossing the lube aside. He goes to reach for it, to stow it away, but you tap his hand away good-naturedly. "Don't. Might need more later."

That promise slips low and heady into his gut, and he swallows and relaxes against the comforter. You grip one of his taut thighs in your hand and prop his leg up, then slip your hand between his legs. He makes a high, shivery noise as your fingers brush teasingly over his dick, collecting the pre already leaking enthusiastically from the tip, but you keep going, lower, lower—

Mammon grunts as he feels your fingertip circle his hole.

"Relax, baby," you murmur, pressing feathery kisses to the knee of his crooked leg. "Doin' sooo good for me, yeah?"

"Mhm," he whimpers. "Mhm, yeah."

"Yeah," you affirm, and slip the tip of your finger inside. Mammon breathes out quick and hard, but it doesn't hurt—not at all, really. There's a familiar stretch, but no burn, no ache. "That okay?"

"Y-yeah," he mumbles, wiggles his hips experimentally. "I can—you can put more."

Achingly slowly, between breaths, kisses, and more feather-light touches to his cock that have pleasure sparking bone-deep, you ease your finger in to the knuckle.

"Doesn't hurt," Mammon pants. "You can—can ya—"

"Alright, pet, I got you," you murmur. Two fingers is a stretch but God, God fuckin' dammit, once they're in Mammon feels like he could weep, and once they twist expertly inside him and find that tough spot a few inches in he damn near does.

He arches off the bed with an exceptionally embarrassing noise. "F-fuck, oh holy shit, fuckin'—do that again—"

"Don't forget your manners." You give your fingers a warning twist that has him whimpering. "I don't wanna have to train you all over again, baby."

"S—fuck, sorry," he babbles damn near incoherently. "Just please can you touch me there again, okay, please 'cause it feels so fuckin' good, you feel so fuckin' good, baby, angel, please."

Your fingers slip in and out, push against that spot inside him that makes him feel like he's gonna burst out of his own skin, and Mammon moans, and your fingers slip out for a moment and before he can do so much as growl in frustration you're drooling more lube over them and you go back in with a third.

He feels so fuckin' full and so weirdly brainless, like you've pushed all the common sense out his head to make way for your stupid good fingers. As though you've read his mind, they start jackhammering his prostate like you've found a goddamn doorbell, and his moans get pitchier and wispier until he's almost wheezing.

"Babe," he almost sobs, "Oh, fuck, yes—right there, right there, don't stop pleasepleaseplease don't stop I feel so—"sob—"so fuckin' good, I—"

"Shhh, it's okay," you soothe, and finally your other hand comes up to wrap around his cock and Mammon keens. Your hand is a loose fist, your thumb swiping at the head in a move that makes his whole buddy judder and he arches into the touch and away, it's so much, it's too much—

"'M gonna cum," he gasps out brokenly, hips bucking up into you, spine so bent it nearly aches. "Fuck, sorry—fuck, I'm gonna cum."

"Good boy," you whisper. "If I can just—"

Your hand leaves his cock, and Mammon opens his mouth to ask what you're doing when you seize a handful of the leash Mammon had almost forgotten was there, and you tug so hard that the leather constricts around his throat and and his head snaps up to meet the crush of your lips.

Mammon cums so hard that he sees stars.

He always thought that was some sorta exaggeration, but look here, ladies and gentlemen, come observe the great Mammon flat on his back with his eyes rolled up into his head, panting like he'd run a goddamn marathon with your fingers still buried inside him. Tears spill over his lashline as his orgasm rips through him, and he cums with a strangled "Fu-uck, love you, I fuckin'—fffuckin' love you, fuck—"

When he can breathe again, approximately a minute later as you carefully ease your fingers out of him, you kiss his lips tenderly and tell him, "I love you too, Mams. Just in case it wasn't clear."

"Mmmn," he grumbles. He feels the bed dip and your warmth leave him and his stomach drops, goes cold. He fists a hand in the fabric of your shirt. "Wh—where d'ya think you're going?"

It's meant to sound aggressive but it comes out more sad. He has to fight back a drowsy wince.

You pet his hair. "Just getting a wet cloth to clean you up, baby."

"Later," he grumbles, and tugs you back down. You sigh and pick up a dirty shirt from the unofficial laundry pile beside his bed and clean up his stomach and your hands before tossing it back into the basket. You make a mental note to bury it under other dirty washing so nobody catches a glimpse of it.

Once you lay back down, Mammon twists his body and jams it up against yours, his head wriggling onto your chest, arms so tight around your waist you think he's afraid you'll slip away.

You bring a hand up to his hair and play with it absently. "Want me to take the collar off, now?"

Mammon pauses. "...'S fine for now," he sniffs.