Arranged marriage with MAMMON will probably only happen if Lucifer arranged it.
Then the night before the wedding, you were tying the blankets and escaping through the balcony and all that but when you looked to your left, Mammon was literally doing the same fucking thing.
So you just set his on fire because who the fuck does he think he is trying to run away from you, and that's how the arranged marriage became successful.
pairings: the brothers/Reader, Diavolo/Reader, Solomon/Reader (can be interpreted as platonic or romantic)
summary: You’re sorting through paperwork with Lucifer when you accidentally slide your fingertip against the corner of a page. “Ow,” you say instinctually, more out of reflex than genuine pain.
“Are you alright?” Lucifer asks, looking up from his papers for the first time since you started this task.
“Oh, yeah,” you wave his concern off. “Just got a paper cut.”
“A paper cut,” Lucifer repeats with bemusement and skepticism. “You got hurt by a piece of paper,” he says incredulously.
The demon brothers learn a valuable lesson as they grow to include you in their lives: humans are very strange.
word count: 3.3k | ao3 version
warnings: mentions of sickness, medical care, injury.
I know demons are virtually the same as humans canonically, but I’ve always wanted to explore the brothers’ reactions to human things MC does, whether it’s a sneeze or a bruise or getting sick… And, well, here we are.
This won’t be canon compliant. This is set to take place sometime after Episode 15 and all seven brothers are included. The reader’s race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used**. There’s one bit where they’re stated to wear glasses & another where they had braces and currently wear retainers. But I feel like that’s a pretty easy thing to imagine, so… yeah!
**The reader is referred to with it/its pronouns once in Belphegor's snippet—skip reading it if it bothers you. i use these pronouns so i wrote that mostly for me 🤘
“Darling, what is that ghastly thing?” Asmodeus asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.
“What thing?” you frown. The two of you are sitting in his bedroom, sprawled across his bed as you talk about stupid things. Asmodeus had been ranting about something when his eyes locked on something near you with startling focus.
“This!” he says, pointing at your forearm.
You follow his gaze, finding a spot of slightly discolored skin halfway down your arm. “Oh,” you say, “It’s just a bruise.”
“A bruise?” Asmodeus repeats, his nose scrunched in confusion.
“You know, a bruise,” you repeat. There’s nothing close to comprehension on his face. “...A contusion or whatever?” …Still nothing.
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” the demon frowns. “And wow, is it unsightly.” Asmodeus remarks, disgust passing over his face before intrigue takes over it. He leans over you, before proceeding to poke at your skin curiously.
“Ow, Asmo—” you hiss, batting his hand away. You don’t put much strength behind the gesture, but Asmodeus goes along with it anyway and removes his hand.
“It hurts?” he then blinks owlishly.
“Yes,” you say, letting your arm fall back to your side.
Asmodeus shakes his head in disbelief. “Humans are so weird.”
It’s late at night and you need to refill your glass of water. You’re tiredly walking out to the kitchen when a sudden noise breaks through the silence.
“Hey.”
You inhale sharply, fear coursing through you until you recognize the familiar voice. “Holy shit, Beel,” you murmur, placing your hand on your chest momentarily and squinting through the darkness. You can only see the general outline of his form. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” Beelzebub says. You think he must be frowning now. Again, it’s difficult to tell. “I thought you saw me.”
“Um…” you squint again. “No.”
“Oops,” he says. You hear a light shuffling sound. “Can you see me now?” he asks.
You blink again. “Sort of.”
Suddenly he’s standing right in front of you. You can’t suppress a flinch this time, instinctually leaning backwards.
“Beel, stop that—!” you exclaim, nearly stumbling over yourself.
He sets you straight with a hand on your shoulder, a frown rising on his face. “You can’t see in the dark, then?” Beelzebub hums.
“No,” you sigh. It’s as if he didn’t believe you—like he had to test it for himself to make sure.
“Hmph,” Beelzebub frowns again. Or, at least, it sounds like he’s frowning. “That’s inconvenient.”
“I guess,” you concede.
“What’s wrong with your skin?” Belphegor asks you one morning, when the two of you are relaxing in his room.
“Hm?” you blink, momentarily distracted from looking down at your D.D.D.
“Your skin,” he restates. “Look,” he demands, pointing down at your forearm. You follow the demon’s gaze, only to find goosebumps scattered across your skin.
“Oh, those are just goosebumps,” you answer casually.
“Goose… bumps,” Belphegor repeats, his nose scrunched in evident revulsion.
“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m not sure why they’re called that, but they show up on your skin if you get too cold.”
“Well, stop being cold,” Belphegor orders, as if you’re inconveniencing him. He probably thinks you are, although it’s entirely out of your control. You hardly have a chance to react before you’re promptly pelted in the face with a sweatshirt. “Here.”
“Oof,” you say, peeling it off the crown of your head and putting it on. “Thanks, Belphie.”
“Shut up,” he murmurs. There’s a hint of pink rising on the back of his neck, as if he’s embarrassed. “Stupid human. Can’t even keep itself warm.” He huffs. You valiantly ignore the remark.
“Why are there teeth in the bathroom?” Levi asks as he enters the room. And wow, what a way to make an entrance. Satan and you look over at Levi from where you’d been reading.
“What?” Satan blinks questioningly, clearly just as confused as you are.
“Teeth,” Levi repeats himself, “in the bathroom.”
How he expects the same exact remark to make more sense, you have no idea. It takes you a few moments to connect the dots, but you do eventually. “Oh!” you exclaim. “Those are just my retainers.”
“Your retainers,” Satan repeats. There’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “And what do they retain, exactly?” he asks sardonically. You scoff.
“My teeth,” you respond. “Obviously,” you add, if only to combat his sarcasm.
“So… what do you do with them?” Levi asks curiously, tilting his head as he looks at you.
“I wear them every night when I sleep,” you explain. “They’re supposed to prevent my teeth from shifting.”
“Your teeth shift?” Satan exclaims incredulously. “You mean they can move?”
“Um— yes,” you respond. “Human teeth always move, even after a person has braces.”
“What are braces?” Levi demands.
“They’re metal brackets that an orthodontist puts on your teeth when they’re crooked. They guide the teeth into a more neat shape.”
“I’m convinced you just made that up,” Satan says helpfully.
You roll your eyes. “I had braces. But since my teeth can still move, I have to wear the retainers.”
“For how long?” Levi blinks.
“The rest of my life.”
Satan whistles. “That sucks.”
You shrug amicably.
“And I thought normies were weird,” Levi huffs. “But humans are even weirder.”
“Hey, wait: how’d you even see my retainers in the first place?” you realize aloud. “I always keep them in a case… in a drawer.” You wouldn’t just leave them on the counter—that would be pretty unsanitary.
As if caught in a lie, Levi freezes and quickly bolts away. “Gotta go shower, bye—!” he says, slamming the bathroom door shut with more force than necessary.
You stare after him in disbelief, an incredulous laugh bubbling up from your throat.
“He was just curious,” Satan explains with a shrug. “Not that I blame him. Do your teeth truly keep growing?”
“Not growing, necessarily,” you contemplate. “Babies are born with baby teeth. Then, as you get older, you lose your baby teeth as your adult teeth grow in.”
“That’s similar to demons,” Satan confirms.
“Our teeth eventually stop growing, but they can shift and move still,” you clarify.
Satan shakes his head in annoyed disbelief. “Humans are truly an anomaly.”
You’re sorting through paperwork with Lucifer when you accidentally slide your fingertip against the corner of a page. “Ow,” you say instinctually, more out of reflex than genuine pain.
“Are you alright?” Lucifer asks, looking up from his papers for the first time since you started this task.
“Oh, yeah,” you wave his concern off. “Just got a paper cut.” You squint down at your finger and grit your teeth in annoyance. You’re so concentrated that you don’t know Lucifer’s pensive silence or furrowed brows.
“A….. paper cut,” he restates, a mix of bemusement and concern in his voice.
“You don’t get those?” you ask.
“You got hurt by a piece of paper,” Lucifer says incredulously. Suddenly he’s getting to his feet and striding over to you, taking your hand in his and investigating your fingertip. “Hm. You weren’t joking. How strange.”
He continues to study your skin with a frightening intensity. Your hand is almost shaking in his grip, as you attempt to fight off your restlessness at his proximity. Eventually Lucifer sighs and lets his grip fall away. “Does it hurt?”
“Yeah,” you admit. “Paper cuts are just a minor inconvenience… But for whatever reason, they can really hurt sometimes. Feels like your skin is splitting apart.” They really shouldn’t hurt, but they do. One time, you had one that spanned your entire fingertip. This one doesn’t look nearly as bad, fortunately. But it still burns.
“You’re rather breakable,” the Avatar of Pride notes.
“It’s just a paper cut,” you feel the need to say defensively.
“Of course,” Lucifer responds, an indulgent and amused smile on his face. There’s a knowing smirk on his face and you roll your eyes, abandoning the argument.
Solomon and you often get stuck accompanying one another to the human realm whenever you need anything. The demon realm is great, but it doesn’t have everything humans need. Besides, sometimes it’s nice to breathe in some fresh air or be among other humans.
Today’s visit has a purpose, though. After a rather unfortunate incident involving Mammon, you, and a chandelier, you find yourself with broken glasses. (Thanks, Mammon.) It’s been roughly a year since you’ve had an eye exam, so it’s about time for another appointment anyways. Unfortunately, the Devildom doesn’t have eye doctors (and you still remember the perplexed look on Levi’s face when you casually asked him one day). That’s how you find yourself in your ophthalmologist’s office in the human realm. Solomon dropped you off with the promise that he’d return the moment you texted, leaving you to slowly waste away in the waiting room.
Fortunately, your name is finally called and you’re able to undergo all of the various examinations. You emerge an hour later with dilated pupils, an updated prescription, and reassurance from the doctor that nothing is amiss. You manage to text Solomon—through slightly blurred vision—and he arrives within five minutes.
You can only hope to slip into the manor unnoticed. But from the very moment you slip through the front doors, Mammon is bounding up to you like an overexcited puppy. He seems moments away from looping an arm around you and dragging you off into some misguided adventure when he locks eyes with you and freezes.
“Whoa, what the hell—?” Mammon exclaims, staring at you intently. “Oi, human, don’t tell me ya got possessed—!” His hands clamp on your shoulders and he starts shaking you roughly.
“Mammon, stop it,” you object, grabbing onto his shoulders and attempting to prevent him from shaking you any harder. He calms down a little, but he still looks confused. “I’m not possessed. I just had an appointment with an eye doctor.”
“Well, how’d they screw up so bad then, huh?” he spits. In another situation, his concern would be touching; but now, it’s mostly just amusing. “Ya look like a shark!”
“It’s just one of the tests,” you explain. “They had to dilate my pupils.”
“Humans are crazy,” Mammon asserts. He’s studying you from far too close—occasionally changing his angle as if it will somehow give him new insight. “You look so freaky.”
“Thanks, Mammon,” you sigh.
“Does it hurt?” he asks. “I bet it does; yer such a baby.” The insult seems to be a cover-up for his concern.
“It doesn’t really hurt,” you reassure him. “It just feels a little strange. The drops really just affect your vision. I can’t focus on things in front of me, and it sort of looks like I’m seeing double.”
“Well, there’s nothing for it but resting your eyes,” Mammon sighs theatrically, looping an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s watch the next episode of Destroyman.”
“How is that supposed to help my eyes?” you ask skeptically.
“Hey, I’ve been waiting for ya all day!” Mammon exclaims. “We’re watching the next episode, even if it looks all blurry to you.” The demon is soon yanking you along before you can object.
“There’s the culprit,” Belphegor remarks, looking up at you as you enter the dining room for breakfast. The brothers are staring at you intently.
“Good morning to you too,” you huff, shoving your hands in the pockets of your uniform and taking the empty seat at the table. It’s a bit unusual to see all seven brothers at the table like this, especially so early in the morning. “What’d I do?” you blink cluelessly.
“You don’t remember?” Beel pipes up, blinking at you curiously. He seems to be mid-bite, with some food hanging out of his mouth. Lucifer chides him for table manners and Beel huffs, promptly demolishing the rest of his food.
“You were roaming the halls in the middle of the night like a ghost!” Mammon explains before anyone else can. He sounds particularly energetic this morning. “It was freaky.”
Roaming the halls at night? You don’t remember doing that, which can only mean one thing. “Oh, I was probably just sleepwalking,” you realize aloud.
“Wonders truly never cease,” Lucifer says dryly. “Just how many eccentricities do humans possess?” he muses.
You sigh, remembering all of the strange interactions you’ve had over the past few weeks. “I’m not choosing to do any of this, you know,” you frown. “I can’t control it.” It’s not like you wanted to get a paper cut, or a bruise, or goosebumps. These are just facts of life.
“We know, dear,” Asmo reassures you.
“It’s okay,” Levi says, barely sparing you a glance as he stares down at his plate. “None of these human behaviors are super annoying.” That’s very meaningful coming from Levi of all demons.
“They’re just weird,” Satan supplies helpfully. You roll your eyes at him.
“It seems my brothers were just… worried,” Lucifer explains.
“Hey, you were worried too!” Mammon objects. “You were the one to—” Whatever the Avatar of Greed means to say next promptly fades into obscurity, as Lucifer sends his younger brother a murderous glare to silence him.
“Okay,” you eventually remark, uncomfortable with the sudden tension settling in the room. “Well, sorry to disturb you guys, I guess. Sleepwalking is normal for humans, though.”
“I’m starting to think nothing about humans is normal,” Satan mutters under his breath. Lucifer nods in agreement. You just roll your eyes and pretend not to hear the remark, serving yourself some food and beginning to eat breakfast. Despite the fanfare, it’s nice to know the brothers care about you—even if they don’t show it in very orthodox ways.
“Oh,” a familiar voice says one afternoon. You blink blearily, your dizzy vision momentarily clarifying to reveal Diavolo standing over you. You’re crumpled on the floor, your cheek pressed to the cold hardwood as sweat rolls down the nape of your neck. “I must say, when I heard of your absence, I assumed you ditched classes for the day.”
It’s difficult for you to process what he’s saying; his voice sounds warped. The headmaster just hums. “Are you… all right?” he asks. You can barely manage a weak nod. Diavolo sighs. “Forgive me for the foolish question. You’re clearly not all right. Here, let’s get you up…”
You hardly have the chance to object before the demon is lifting you into his arms as if you weigh nothing at all. He sets you on your bed with deceptive gentleness, before staring at you and frowning.
“I don’t suppose you know what’s happening to you,” Diavolo says.
“I think I’m sick,” you manage to respond. Your voice sounds a little raspy and your airways feel a bit tight. You clear your throat, wincing at the dryness the gesture provokes. You must have a fever, because your body temperature keeps oscillating between frigid cold and searing warmth. Before you can think better of it, you blink dazedly and reach out to grab Diavolo’s hand. “Tell me if I feel warm.”
He’s clearly a bit confused, but he allows you to guide his hand to your temple.
“You’re hot,” he observes after a moment.
“Thanks,” you huff deliriously.
“Your temperature,” he clarifies with a knowing smile, shaking his head. “What does this mean?” Diavolo frowns.
“I have a fever,” you answer. “When a human’s body temperature is too high, it causes sickness.”
“What can be done about it?” he continues.
“Depends,” you reply. “Sometimes it breaks on its own; sometimes you need antibiotics.”
“Antibiotics,” Diavolo repeats, the concept clearly foreign to him. “I can’t say I’m familiar. But it’s clear that you should rest. I’ll watch over you.” Whatever else he says is lost on you, as you close your eyes and surrender to the persistent fatigue burning your eyelids.
You wake several hours later to a room devoid of Diavolo. You’re not exactly surprised that he had to leave—he’s the ruler of the Devildom, after all. He surely has far more important things to do than look after you. You blink away traces of sleep as you look around the room, your vision clarifying to reveal Solomon sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room. You blink at him silently.
“Oh, you’re awake,” Solomon says. “How are you feeling?”
“…Fine,” you admit, touching your temple experimentally. Your headache has subsided a little, but your skin still feels a bit warm. At your movement, Solomon pushes himself to his feet and feels your forehead.
“Your temperature’s coming down, finally,” he hums.
“What are you doing here?” you finally manage to ask.
“Diavolo summoned me,” Solomon explains. “Supposedly, he attempted to enlist the help of the brothers, but they proved to be rather useless. They are… woefully uninformed when it comes to humans, after all.”
That’s true. “Thanks,” you remember to say. He didn’t have to come, after all. Just because he’s the only other human, doesn’t mean he’s relegated to nursing you back to health.
“No problem,” Solomon nods sincerely. He doesn’t seem too bothered by the whole arrangement. “It’s nice not to be the only human. Although, I expect around the clock service and care the next time I fall ill.”
You smile tiredly. “Of course,” you agree. It’s a frighteningly easy promise to make.
After your sickness, you notice that the brothers begin to ease up on you a bit. Mammon’s no longer texting you in the middle of the night, demanding that you entertain him; Lucifer doesn’t mind if you occasionally take a day to complete your work remotely at the mansion; Asmo’s physical affection is gentler than normal; Levi doesn’t tease you about being a normie as much; Beelzebub doesn’t ever touch your plate or food; hell, even Belphegor is behaving himself—no longer interfering with your naps or sleep.
One afternoon, Lucifer approaches you in the living room. He greets you before settling on the couch next to you, his posture rigid and proper. “You may have noticed that my brothers…” Lucifer starts, before pausing and shaking his head, “...that we have been acting a bit different than normal.” You nod.
“In the past few weeks—especially in light of your bout of sickness—we realized that we’ve been neglecting you and your health. A demon’s stamina is much stronger than a human’s—we need less sleep; food is more of a luxury than a necessity; our bodies are more resistant to injury… You understand.”
“What I mean to say is…” Lucifer trails off again, an uncharacteristic sign of hesitation from him. He takes a slow breath. “I apologize for the oversight.”
“It’s okay,” you reassure him.
“It is not,” Lucifer states firmly. “We have neglected to consider just how difficult this transition must be for you. We—I—didn’t think to ensure your health and safety were priorities.”
“But no more. I’ve spoken to Diavolo and Solomon at length, in addition to doing some elective research, to ensure we are not so unprepared in the future. And, should your accommodations be unsuitable—should anything here be unsuitable—I want you to inform me at once.”
That… sounds a lot more serious than what you were expecting. You blink. “That’s— That’s really not necessary,” you try to say.
“It wasn’t a request,” Lucifer interjects smoothly. It’s a firm but well-meaning statement. “Do you understand?”
You swallow. “Yes.”
“Good.” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips now. “Truthfully, my brothers were very worried for you.” Lucifer pauses for a moment. “I was very worried for you,” he admits.
You’re sure you look surprised now. Lucifer only laughs, before getting to his feet and placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You can almost convince yourself that the look in his eyes is unbearably fond. But he’s soon withdrawing, leaving you to wonder if you imagined the entire interaction.
back into my obey me thoughts and just mc being like a bar owner or some shi maybe even a midnight club wink for every species in devildom - vampires , werewolves ecttttt like ugh them being fully into their sins now, being greedy for customers and money , prideful knowing they worked their way up the ranks , lusting over especially hot customers , envy of if someone’s else is copying them or doing it better , so then they ruin it for the other bar/store/ect full wrath mode , lastly being too lazy to check up on it a lot of the times so leaving their poor workers to defend for themselves and gluttony kinda wors with greed cus their hungry for money attention.
mc making whole lotta new friends , that sheep is a whole level of bubbly and friendly to everyone so everyone addresses them by first name basis and I especially love to imagine them meeting lots of new wizard and witches who teach them about magic within vampires , orcs ect. Allowing mc to grow.
Anyways rant over Soz I’m back in my monster obsession era and I always fall into obey me when I do
boyfriend!steve babying you while you’re sick *.❤︎₊ ⊹
the world felt fuzzy as you laid in steve’s bed, the thick comforter on top of you becoming too hot for the fever blanketing your body.
“hey, sleepyhead” his voice was so soft as it came from the doorway, the usual sass and gentle teasing was completely absent. he sat down on the edge of the bed and began to softly brush the stray hairs from your forehead that had begun to stick from the faint sheen of sweat beginning to form. “how’s my girl?”
you shook your head, pale and dizzy “head.. hurts”
you could faintly see the frown of concern that immediately took over steve’s features “i know, sweetheart..” he picked up a mug from the side table with a strained smile, trying to sound hopeful “i made you tea, just the way you like. lots and lots of honey. sip f’me?”
“i’m not sure i can sit up, baby”
“don’t worry about a thing, i’ve got you.. just a few sips. okay?” he shifted closer and placed a hand on the back of your head to carefully support you while he brought the mug to your lips. you nodded as the warmth of the tea transferred to your tongue. “there you go… good girl” his thumb ran over the corner of your mouth to collect a drop of tea.
“thank you, stevie..” you shifted your head back down and closed your eyes as his hand stroked your cheekbone.
“anything for you, princess.. just focus on getting better, m’kay?” his voice was so tender. he began to lay down beside you, careful to not disturb the comfortable position you’ve found for yourself before arranging the pillows to nestle your head on his shoulder, his arm going around your back to hold you close as his fingers traced soothing lines up and down.
you found yourself instantly soothed by the rhythm of his heart and steady breathing. a fragile soft smile touching your lips as you nuzzled closer into his warmth.
“i’ve got you, honey” he began to hum a soft tune into your hair in between soft kisses against your temple. his hand was still drifting up and down your back soothingly as you began to fall back to sleep with the safety of your boyfriend holding onto you, knowing he’d do anything to make sure you were okay again.
— ♡
steve is such a softie. this was requested! requests are open. likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated. thank you ♡
Their cocks are inhumanly huge, thick and their tongues— so soft and big, warm and textured —Neteyam especially knows exactly how to use his. He can make you cum just from licking between your legs for only a few minutes.
You moan softly under your breath as you jot down another measurement on your tablet, the sterile sound of the lab’s equipment doing nothing to drown out the irritation that you’re gonna be here for another hour doing tests.
You’re supposed to be doing routine vitals on him right now.
He’s sitting on the reinforced exam table, long blue legs dangling, tail flicking lazily behind him. You’re in your white lab coat, the top few buttons undone because it’s stupidly hot in here, and you’re rambling about your day like usual.
“…and then ray nearly chewed me out because I mixed up the soil samples again, but honestly, after dealing with those idiots in the greenhouse all morning, I just wanted to—”
You pause mid sentence. Neteyam isn’t listening. His golden eyes are locked on your chest, pupils blown wide, the bioluminescent freckles on his cheeks glowing faintly. He’s staring at the soft swell of your cleavage like he wants to bury his face in it.
“Neteyam,” you say, half warning, a smirk tugging at your lips.
He doesn’t even pretend to be ashamed. “You’re talking too much,” he murmurs, in his fathers birth language, his thick Na’vi-American accent curling around the words.
One large hand reaches out slowly, fingers brushing the side of your breast through your thin shirt, thumb stroking right over your nipple until it pebbles under his touch. “Come here.”
He grabs you by your small waist with his huge hands and pulls you close to him, your legs stumbling a little as he pulls you close.
Then he leans down, letting his huge mouth closing over your small nipple through the fabric on your top, sucking hard, leaving a wet stain from his mouth on your shirt. The wet heat of it makes you gasp despite being through your shirt, a sharp moan slipping out as your hands grip his shoulders.
Your eyes dart to the lab door, heart racing. You tap his arm quickly. “Someone will see, Teyam—” you manage between soft moans, the words shaky.
He just hums against your chest, but doesn’t stop.
Instead he tugs your shirt and coat down a bit roughly, exposing your breast fully, watching them jiggle from the pressure for a small moment. Then his mouth latches on again, his big, soft tongue swirling around your small nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth. You moan louder, throwing your head back, the contrast of your tiny nipple against his huge tongue making your thighs press together.
As he keeps sucking, lavishing attention on your tits, one of his hands guides yours down to his lap. He wraps your small fingers around the thick bulge under his loincloth, using his much larger hand to move yours over it, stroking him through the material. You feel him throb under your palm, already so hard.
He lifts up from your nipple with a wet pop, your tits shaking from the motion. Your eyes meet his—golden and dark with hunger—as you keep rubbing him, your small hand working over his massive length.
As you keep rubbing him, your small hand working over his massive length, you press your palm firmer against the thick outline, feeling every heavy throb and ridge through the thin loincloth.
Your fingers trace up and down the impossible girth, barely able to wrap halfway around even through the material, squeezing and stroking in slow, teasing glides guided by his much larger hand.
He’s so warm, pulsing under your touch, the sheer size making your core clench with anticipation as you work him harder, twisting your wrist a little on the upstroke just to hear the way his breath hitches.
Neteyam’s hips twitch up into your hand, a low rumble building in his chest while he watches your small fingers struggle to please him.
You keep going, rubbing faster now, feeling him swell even more under your palm, the fabric growing damp from his leaking precum.
“Fuck… I’m close,” he groans, voice thick with his Na’vi accent, hips shifting up into your touch. He moves your hand aside just enough to pull his loincloth down, freeing his cock. It springs out heavy and huge against his lower stomach. Then his hand comes to the side of your face, gently guiding you toward his lap.
You look at it up close, eyes wide at how big it is—thick, ridged, the head already glistening.
You lean in slowly and take him into your mouth, struggling right away. Your lips stretch wide, jaw aching as you try your hardest to force the fat head past them.
He leans back on the table, propped on his hands, watching you with a little smile, those golden eyes half lidded.
“You got this,” he whispers.
You roll your eyes and laugh around his cock, the sound muffled and vibrating against him. Soon you get used to it, your saliva coating his length and making it more slippery, mixing with his precum. You bob your head as best you can, taking a little more each time, hands stroking what your mouth can’t reach.
He’s moaning softly now, trying to keep quiet so you don’t get caught. “Pull your tits out,” he whispers.
You do, taking your free hand to struggle with your top and bra down but once you pull them down just enough for your breast to pop out, you let them bounce free as you keep sucking.
He watches them shake and jiggle with every movement of your head—how small they are compared to his hands, how they bounce in different directions. It’s better than touching them right now, the sight driving him crazy.
His hips twitch, and suddenly he’s cumming—thick, warm ropes flooding your mouth. Half goes down your throat and you swallow what you can, the rest spilling out and dripping down to his balls.
Neteyam groans, a deep rumbling sound, his hand gently cradling the back of your head. “Fuck… your mouth feels so good. But hurry, baby. Switch to your avatar before someone comes.”
You pull off with a wet pop, strings of spit and cum connecting your swollen lips to his still throbbing cock. Looking up at him through your lashes, you laugh breathlessly, still stroking him with both hands with all the energy that you had left, the skin on his cock moving with your hands in sync as his cum is still shooting out here and there.
“Mmmh… don’t feel like it.”
Neteyam’s eyes flash with something dark and hungry. He pulls you up into a messy kiss, his huge tongue sliding against yours, tasting the mix of his cum and your spit still on your lips. The kiss is deep and claiming, his big hands cupping your face as he groans into your mouth.
Then his hand slips down, sliding right into your pants and under your panties. His thick fingers find your soaked clit immediately, rubbing slow, firm circles that make your hips jerk. “Then can I fuck you in this body?” he whispers hot against your ear, a small laugh in his voice that turns into a moan as he feels how wet you are, his fingers gliding easily over your swollen nub.
You open your mouth to answer, breath shaky, but before the words come out he slides one thick finger inside you with a low smile. The stretch burns so good it hurts, your tight human walls clenching hard around just one of his fingers. Your knees go weak instantly, a broken moan tearing from your throat as you sag against him. He catches you easily, that finger pushing deeper, curling inside you while you tremble.
He kisses along your ear, tongue tracing the shell. Then he pulls his finger out slowly, leaving you empty and aching. “You think you can take me?” he whispers, voice thick.
You nod with teary eyes, already desperate.
He guides you to the exam table, turning you so your stomach presses against the cool surface, ass facing him. He yanks your pants and panties down to your ankles in one motion. You hear him stroking his still hard cock behind you, the wet sound of his hand moving over his slick length making you clench.
He tries to push the fat head in, but it won’t fit, your hole resisting. He traces his thumb over your stretched folds, soothing, then slowly slides two thick fingers inside instead. He leans over you, big body covering yours as those two fingers start fucking you in deep, steady thrusts that make wet, obscene sounds echo in the lab.
You’re moaning and crying at how good it feels, the stretch so intense your legs shake. “Teyam—” you whimper, tears slipping down your cheeks.
He pulls you up suddenly so your back is flush against his warm stomach, one strong arm wrapped around your waist while his fingers keep pumping into you. Your hand flies back, scratching at his arm as you turn into a moaning mess, tits bouncing freely with every thrust of his hand.
“Shhh, yawne,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t stop, fucking you harder with those fingers until your juices are dripping down your thighs and falling onto your panties bunched at your ankles.
He lays you back down on the table, pulling his fingers out. This time he lines up his cock again, pushing the thick tip in. You wince hard at the burn, and he pulls out immediately, breathing heavy. Using both thumbs, he gently spreads your puffy hole wider, then pushes in again—slow, relentless. The head pops inside and you moan louder, the stretch making your eyes roll back.
“You have to be quiet, baby,” he groans, accent thick, one hand pressing over your mouth as he rocks deeper. Inch by inch he works his massive cock into your tiny human pussy, the bulge visible low in your belly.
Your tits shake against the table with every shallow thrust, nipples hard and sensitive. You try to move your hips down to try to get away from him just a little but he grips them tight, holding you still so he can control every deep slide.
The wet sounds are filthy—your juices coating his cock and dripping down, soaking your panties below. Every ridge drags against your walls, making you sob and clench around him.
“That’s it… taking me so good,” he pants, hips snapping a little harder. “So small… so tight around me.”
You come first, crying out against his hand as your pussy spasms wildly around his huge length. The squeeze pushes him over the edge too—Neteyam growls low, burying himself as deep as your body allows and filling you with thick, hot ropes of cum. It spills out around where you’re stretched around him, dripping messily onto your panties and thighs as he keeps rocking through it, milking every drop.
You stay like that for a moment, panting, his cock still twitching inside you, your body trembling from the overwhelming fullness.
The next morning you called into work, claiming a headache and some lingering muscle strain from “field samples.” Roberson, bought it easily enough.
The truth was simpler: you could barely walk straight after last night in the lab, your body deliciously sore and aching in all the ways, bruises from Neteyam’s grip already blooming on your hips.
Now you’re face down on the soft woven mat in your private quarters, completely naked, the morning light filtering through the woven walls.
Neteyam’s huge hands are on you, warm and careful as he massages your lower back. His thumbs press deep into the tight muscles just above your ass, working out the knots with slow, firm strokes that make you melt into the mat.
You let out a soft moan, eyes fluttering shut. “Right there… fuck, Teyam, that feels so good.”
He hums, the sound low and pleased, his large palms sliding lower, kneading the curve of your ass before drifting back up.
Every press of his fingers sends little sparks through your sensitive body, reminding you exactly how deep he’d been inside you just hours ago. His tail brushes lazily against your floor, bioluminescent spots glowing softly along his skin.
The door curtain shifts without warning.
“Oh look, it’s my favorite couple,” Kiri’s voice sings out, amusement clear as she steps inside carrying a small basket of herbs.
You both freeze. Neteyam’s hands stay on your lower back, while you turn your head just enough to see her grinning.
“We’re just friends,” you say quickly, the words tumbling out at the same time Neteyam mutters, “Friends, Kiri.”
She pauses, then laughs, bright and knowing, ears flicking. “Rightttt. And I’m just here to deliver pain relief herbs to my brother’s friend who definitely didn’t spend all night getting her back… worked on.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she sets the basket down. “You two are terrible at secrets, by the way. The whole village has bets going.”
Neteyam’s ears pin back slightly, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips as his thumbs keep working your sore muscles, bolder now that the secret’s half out. “Go away, Kiri.”
Kiri rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling. “Fine, fine. Just… use protection next time? Or whatever you sky people do. Ouuu also, what is it called in English again… step sister??” She winks at you before slipping back out, the curtain falling shut behind her.
The second she’s gone, you bury your face in your arms, a mix of embarrassment and laughter shaking your shoulders.
Neteyam chuckles above you, then leans down so his broad chest presses against your back. His breath tickles your ear.
“Friends, huh?” he murmurs, that thick accent curling around the words. One of his hands slides between your thighs from behind, fingers teasing your still swollen folds. “After you cried on my cock so sweetly last night? After you took every inch like such a good little scientist?”
You whimper, hips twitching back against his touch despite the soreness. “Shut up...”
He laughs softly and nips at your shoulder, tongue soothing the spot right after. His fingers circle your clit lazily, not pushing for more yet, just keeping you on that sweet edge while he keeps massaging your lower back with his other hand. The dual sensation makes you mewl into the mat, pussy already growing wet again for him.
“Mm. Then let your friend take care of you properly today,” he whispers, shifting so his hardening cock rests heavy against the back of your thigh. “Since you’re too sore to work… I’ll make sure you can’t walk tomorrow either.”
You bite your lip, smiling into your arms as his fingers dip inside you again, slow and careful, stretching your tender walls while his free hand kneads your ass.
quick 3am thought!!! this def isn’t polished so don’t expect any literary masterpiece😭 maybe i should elaborate and write something fr about this later
BUT,,,
thinking about old man daryl with a younger reader who is extremely eager and being an absolute brat about it !!
he isn’t exactly as young as he used to be, and his stamina clearly reflects that. so his new method? trying to tucker you out early on so he can finally take his time with you. fingering you, making you ride his thigh, anything to drain some of this energy from you— and boy, was he getting a mouthful for it.
“daryl pleaseeee”
“c’mon gimme your cock already… need it so bad”
“been waiting forever dare…”
“hmph. such an old man… didn’t realize you couldn’t handle me anymore…”
oh. that was enough for him alright. you think he can’t handle you? he’s starting to think getting a head start on wearing you out wasn’t such a bad idea.
—
after getting his cock driven into you at a brutal pace for what felt like forever, you finally begin to plead with him.
“p-please, dare… ‘m sorry… so sorry- mphhh, fuck, i can’t take anymore!”
daryl grips a fistful of your hair— not tight enough to hurt, but enough to pull you back toward him, his warm breath tickling your neck, “oh c’mon, doll. you needa watch your mouth with all that running its been doin’. the least you can do is take my cock real nice for me, yeah? ain’t no one teach you to respect your elders?”
