[SLOW UPDATES] Okegom X Reader | One Shots!

|| 18 || Fumus x Angel! Reader

|| Doll || Fumus x Angel! Reader

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It was the same thing everytime. The same thing, the same method, the same expressions you wore, it was always the same.

It was better to be consistent than to let him know you're bothered by anything.

You are well aware of the fact that your lord, your god, the man you are forced to worship or be put down, Fumus, is far from a divine excellence.

You think you're smart enough to avoid getting on his bad side, to avoid getting in his sights at all! You'd rather be considered nothing to him than be considered a prized possession like Taffy or Aes.

He is sick and sadistic, and it's so hard to believe him when he says that he doesn't hate you.

But you're gullible, you're painfully aware of the fact that you were specifically made like this, how you bathe in the smallest affections from your god.

You guess that's hard to do now, considering he had personally assigned you to him, to deal with his messes when he's done with them, and to serve him.

There's a key difference between being personally made for Fumus and being personally chosen by him.

Unfortunately, for both of these cases, you don't get a choice.

No matter what you tried to do, how invisible you attempted to be, how unbothered you acted as you and every other angel in Kumo-no-Kuni all heard the screams of Fumus' toys.

He still had locked his eyes onto you.

Which, honestly...wasn't all that bad? It could be so very much worse, the only thing that was really damaged for you was your dignity so far.

It should be wrong, you're treated as a maid more than an angel of his own creation. The outfit your lord chose you wasn't too bad, you think. Fumus had dressed you up in a rather comfortable outfit in a neutral-palette with [F/C] accents, along with accessories in the same shade.

You have been like this for a while, a servant to your god whose loose praises felt like the world to you.

And now, you were being pampered again.

You can't complain as Fumus looks at you with that look, an almost hollow gaze that cascades down your body.

You're not sure if you're disturbed or enamored by the way your god looks at you.

"How fitting," Fumus mumbles, adjusting another clip in your hair.

"Is it, Sir?" You muse after him.

A cold glare raises goosebumps upon your skin. You close your mouth and look away in shame.

Fumus' voice is low, there's no trace of malice yet, but there's definitely something laced in his words, "You do not speak, dolls do not speak."

Right.

That's your job for today, for Fumus, for your god.

You are his doll.

You simply nod your head, nearly flinching as Fumus moves his hand that was in your hair down to your cheek.

His tired eyes stare into your [E/C] ones. His grip on your face tightens, making you hiss quietly under your breath.

"Dolls do not move either unless I tell them," He says, almost commandingly.

As a doll, you can do nothing but follow orders. You do not speak, you do not move, you just simply stare.