Blood Contract | Diavolo X Reader

5| Embarrassing

A quick trip abroad didn't seem so bad, at first. Diavolo was ecstatic about having the penthouse to himself, the opportunity to screw with as many things as he could before (Y/n) got back making him practically giddy-- until he was told he had to come along.

Granted, that was only because he wasn't trusted to not set the penthouse on fire in their absence-- Which was actually one of the few things he'd planned to do, unsurprisingly enough.

He was lucky enough to not be seated with them on the plane ride, instead getting treated to a first class seat with Risotto and plenty of fine dining to last him a week, which was all generously payed for by the politician themselves, who also happened to pay for everything else on the trip, including the hotel rooms.

Now, one might've thought that staying in one of the more higher-class hotels, there wouldn't be so many rooms taken; though Diavolo still finds himself forced to share a room as if he wasn't important enough that the wave of his hand could mean someone's death. Really, there aren't supposed to be that many wealthy people in the area they were in, so what the hell gives?!

Though he also failed to take into account that the whole reason (Y/n) even had to fly out was because there was some big meeting going on, and so naturally, other politicians would be attending too, and if they came from elsewhere like they did, then they would've been staying there. It was beyond infuriating!

To make matters worse, there wasn't even enough space to have Wekapipo and Risotto rest either, leaving them to stand outside on guard (which they would've done regardless, though it would've been nice if they could take turns recharging.)

If he thought it couldn't get any worse, then he's clearly got a losing streak going on, because there was one fucking bed. The last thing he ever wanted to do was share a space like that with them. 

His anger seemed to take off the moment he saw (Y/n) undress and throw on their pajamas shamelessly, slinking onto the bed and going through their phone with that same, goddamn infuriating smile on their face, "The hell are you doing? Go sleep on the damn couch."

"I'm sorry," They sighed, "But who payed for your plane ride? The food? This hotel room? It sounds like you forgot. You can take your fat ass and go sleep on the pullout instead."

"I'm the person that can expose you for being a corrupted shady bastard to the media, jackass."

"And in turn you'd expose yourself as being the spunky little mafia boss everyone wants dead, finally showing your face to the world and giving them a target to aim at. My political career is so very easily salvageable, but can you say the same about your empire when I start making bodies drop again?"

"If it were actually that light of a blow then you would've done it. You just like having things your way."

"I'm not going to argue with someone who's too embarrassed to get undressed and expose his superman underwear. Grow up."

"Just because I'm not willing to strip like a slut doesn't mean I'm embarrassed. I have actual class, unlike you." He snapped, pulling his nightwear from his suitcase.

"You have something against your own kind? 'Cause I swear it's those same sex workers you happily pay for when you're in a rut, four-inch. Get changed, and I'll throw a blanket on the couch for you when you're done." 

He was sure Risotto could probably hear his teeth gritting outside, the slam of the bathroom door as he ducked away into the little space to cool off-- hell, the whole hotel probably heard it too. Just don't give them that satisfaction of pissing you off, he told himself. It's what they want.