#mammon asks

“You we’re too reckless this time.”

Mammon sighs for the nth time as he flops back onto your bed, his arms splaying out to his sides as he stares up at the ceiling. “I’ve already apologized a thousand times. How many more times do I need to say ’m sorry?” he whisper-shouts, being mindful of your roommates sleeping.

“Until you actually mean it,” you snap, glaring towards his head before focusing back onto his leg. He had to take off his whole suit in order for you to see his wounds underneath. You’re not even sure what he would do if he hadn’t just so happened to become best friends with a med school student.

It’s silent for a moment and you know he’s about to say something that’ll make you mad. You purse your lips, bracing yourself for whatever dumb shit he’s about to say.

“Ya know I had no choice but ta go! That villain was goin t-”

“No. You didn’t have to do anything! You have choices just like everyone else. You could’ve stayed home and studied for your finals just like me, but instead, you want to go slinging around the city chasing bad guys like a maniac.” You press a little harshly on one of his wounds, making him flinch and hiss.

“Look, (Y/n)-”

“No. I’m done with this. You either stop going and getting yourself hurt or find someone else to patch you up because I’m done.” You just so happen to finish with his last wound too, standing up and throwing all the trash away.

“(Y/n), please. Listen to m-”

“No. Get out.”

“(Y/-”

“I said get out!” you shout, momentarily losing your composure. You turn your back to him and wrap your arms around yourself. You hear him sigh and get off your bed, slowly peeling his suit back on.

“I’ll talk to ya later,” he says softly, stopping at your window. He gives you a few seconds to reply, but you never do. He just sighs once more and slingshots himself out your window.

"When is it my turn?" he whines, using his nimble fingers to rub your tired muscles.

"After I'm done," you mumble into the pillow below your head.

"And when will that be?" he asks and you can hear the pout he's wearing.

You don't bother replying, just smirking and bringing your arms up and tucking them under your head. "(Y/n)," he whines, wiggling on top of your butt where he sits.

"You owe me, not the other way around," you remind. "You'll be done when I deem you've done a decent enough job." You both hear and feel him huff as he goes back to work, grumbling to himself about how unfair this was. You just smirk and let out a pleased sigh, feeling his warm and oiled hands rub at a particularly hard spot.

You grunt as he rubs it harder, trying to get rid of the knot there. You groan and whine as he does it, this one hurting rather than feeling pleasurable.

When he finally moves on from that spot, you sigh in relief. Your eyes crack open though when you feel something stirring on your butt and lower back.

"Are you hard?" you ask, trying to turn your head to look back at him.

You're stopped by his hand holding your neck down. "No!" he shouts. You laugh at this, his leaning forward to hold you down causing more of him to be pressed against you.

"Oh?" you coo, looking up at him from where he's hovering over you. "I must be imagining this then," you finish, lifting your butt up with your knees just enough to start grinding back against him.

He whimpers and squeezes the back of your neck, making you bite your lip. "Stop that," he hisses, his eyes coming back into focus as he glares down at you.

"Why? I thought you liked it," you pout, letting your hips fall flat to the bed again. He huffs when you actually listen to him, not expecting you to just give in like that.

“Shh, it’s alright. You’re okay,” you whisper to Mammon, holding his body close to yours in a hug. His body shakes against yours as he sobs into your shoulder, his back tense where your hands rub at the muscles there. “They didn’t mean it,” you reassure. 

“Yes, they did! They always do! They just think I’m a bumbling idiot who doesn’t know up from down!” he screams without his usual accent, his body thrashing out of your hold to move away from you. You frown when you see his red-rimmed eyes and snotty nose. 

“Baby, listen. I know they poke and prod at you, but you do the same to them. That’s just how siblings are. I know they can be harsh a lot of the time, but they truly do love and care about you,” you whisper, slowly walking towards him like he’s a stray animal about to take off. He keeps his back to you, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso. You stop behind him and gently place your hands on his upper back, continuing to rub there like you were doing before. 

“Do you remember the time that you decided to run away from home?” you gently ask, not wanting to force him to talk if he doesn’t want to. He nods his head at your question, remaining silent other than the occasional sniffle and hiccup. “Well, you weren’t here to see just how worried they were about you. At first, they did their usual thing of saying ‘oh, it’s so quiet now’ and ‘he won’t last a day,’ but the longer you were gone, the more they started freaking out. I’ve never seen them so upset about anything before, nor have I ever seen them look so relieved when you finally came home. I know you must think that I’m just saying all of this to make you feel better, but it’s the truth, baby. We all missed you so much and we were so happy when you came back home to us, to me.”

When you finish your little speech, he remains turned away from you for a long moment before finally turning to face you. His hands reach out to yours as you lean forward to start kissing away his final tears. “Don’t ever let anyone make you think less of yourself. You’re not the smartest guy ever, but you don’t have to be. Let Satan be the brainiac. You’re good at plenty of things without having to be a genius,” you continue, watching his shoulders slacken and his fast fall from its twisted up position. “You’re so good at math and I’ll never understand half the stuff you do. You’re very handsome and you’re amazing at modeling. You—”

He cuts you off with his lips meeting yours, a smile coming onto your face despite the fact that he’s trying to kiss you. “Thank ya...for saying all that. I...really needed a pick-me-up,” he whispers, his famous accent finally returning. You smile even more while you wrap your arms around him once again. 

“Don’t thank me. Every bit of that was the truth,” you whisper back. He grins brightly at you before smashing his lips to yours for another passionate kiss.