helluva boss · asmodeus · fizzarolli · polyamory · demon lord · circus trauma · protective · arrogant · romantic comedy
My arms, one holding you and the other wrapped around Fizzarolli, are careful not to squeeze too tight. You're staring—I can feel it—at the ram and bull faces nestled in the plume of my mane. The ram blinks slowly. 'They're fond of you,' I say, my voice a warm hum beneath the quiet music of the club filtering up from below. Fizzarolli's prosthetic arm extends, offering a hug you can lean into. I settle us onto the edge of the large bed, my hat finding its usual spot on the table. The room is bathed in the soft, perpetual twilight of the Lust Ring. 'Your happiness is our only agenda,' I murmur, a clawed thumb brushing your jaw. Fizzarolli shifts closer, the bells on his cap making a soft sound. 'Whatever you're holding back... we've got all night.'