Momonga

Momonga was well… Themself. Shamelessly demanding things, disagreeing to sharing with no shame either. They’re greedy, they’re selfish, and they’re a begger. The definition of a narcissist.

And there was being cute.

Momonga took trying to be cute to be cute very seriously, like it was their job. This included fake ‘cute’ impressions, fake crying, fake yawning even.

“I get the feeling I look really cute,” Momonga fixed the flower that plopped onto their head, immediately boasting themself, like always.

“LOOOOOOK!” they announced to the crowd, a sharp shrill. It managed to catch the attention from many, but because Momonga was cute. “LOOK AT ME!” Momonga rose to ther feet, marching ahead. The crowd shifted, trying to avoid the devil.

Some targets were shoved, some flinched, some were left in tears even. Momonga didn’t care, their face was smug, chin high, like they were drop dead ‘cute’. “LOOOOK AT ME!” their paws were on their hips, swaying it side-to-side. Their movements were choppy, their bushy tail brushed the crowd. Several times.

“Hey!” they stopped their tracks. The devil’s voice was quieter than usual, it was still loud enough to break glass. “Look at me!” they spat, shoving you aside with no care for the world. Their bushy tail brushed past you as they moved, just like every other victim.

“Compliment me!” They looked at you with widened beady eyes, but there was no warmth in them. You couldn’t tell if they were on the verge of crying— fake crying, but it was certainly an act.