#Michael’s worst day in his life

[raggedy-spaceman]

Neil behind the camera all day tomorrow

[fighting-naturalist]

“I like you. Have I ever told you that?”

Michael Shanks as Victor in Burn Notice 2.16 “Lesser Evil” (pt 2., pt 1 here)

[fakecats]

never watch wwe worst mistake of my life

[moomin279]

No omitb to watch i miss my man

[blahwithasideofblah]

"Are you FUCKiNg kIdInG mE?!??"

– Michael Corvin, 2003

[rulesofdisorder]

reading canon divergent/canon rewrite/time travel aus of supernatural where the characters are speed running the plot and winning enormously is always all well and good and fun but i’m always like but what about adam?!??! guys?!? you’re brother adam! him and his mom are about to get eaten by ghouls you have to go get them!!!!! and i cannot focus on the actual plot. tbh it’s ​my own damn fault for attaching myself to a character that is in about 5 episodes speaking generously but guys!!! go get him!!! and maybe also introduce him to his archangel boyfriend!!

[megaflygonun-confirmed]

babygirl of the century

[cherry-cola-on-ice]

Slashers with a sleepwalking s/o

AN: totally based off my personal experiences sleepwalking lol asked my friends and family what their favorite sleepwalking episode was.

Jason Voorhees 🏕

Jason is already paranoid AF about you unknowingly wandering into a trap during the day.

But the first time he comes across you in the woods at night? When you should be asleep?

He is not a happy man. Many thoughts run through his mind. Are you trying to leave him? Trying to get yourself hurt? Would you rather die then be with him?

It takes him a good while and a lot of explaining for him to understand what's happening. That your not intentionally doing this. Science shit™️

He sets up a system. Maybe a bell or two. Something loud to let him know where you are. Maybe some trip wires.

Strangest thing he's seen you do: He watched you eat a entire sleeve of saltines while standing in the shower.

Michael Myers 🎃

Michael's seen some shit. So this is nothing. All those years in Smiths Grove have prepared him for this. So you sleepwalk? Cool, his neighbor at Smiths Grove used to eat cockroachs.

That being said, the closer you're relationship grows, the more worried he becomes. What if you fall down the stairs? What if you wander into the road? What if, what if, what if??

He doesn't have the foresight to set up traps, like Jason does.

Uses his fucked up sleep schedule to his advantage and often stands over your sleeping body. Jumpscare.

Will definitely tie a bell on you while you sleep. Totally not a collar what are you saying? Don't make it kinky.

The strangest thing he's seen you do: Put all of the remotes in the refrigerator because they needed batteries.

Thomas Hewitt 🥩

Poor sweet man. You're going to give him a heart attack one of these days.

However, he's probably one of the more better prepared of the lot. His house is set up to keep people in and out. So there isn't much danger you can get into.

Unless he forgets to lock up the basement. Which has happened once. And only once. You were fairly unharmed if not a little traumatized.

Has taken to locking your bedroom door. Also installs like 10 latches. AND puts a bell on the doorknob. And maybe sometimes you.

Look, he's already scared of losing you to somebody else, he doesn't want to have to worry him losing you to you.

Strangest thing he's seen you do: Him, Monty and Hoyt sat and watched you stand in front of the sink for a hour and a half. Just standing there. Menacingly

Brahms Heelshire 🐀

Oh, poor baby is confused. Especially at the start of your situation-ship. You don't know he's there, you just think you're babysitting a doll for a sad old couple. Not their grown ass son who lives in the walls.

The first time Brahms finds you sleepwalking, he's pissed. You trying to leave him, he knows you are. But... did you just snore?? Wait, you're asleep. He feels a little better about the situation.

Until you start walking towards the stairs. Boy's never moved so fast in his life. He knows if he wakes you up it's game over. So he gives you a gentle nudge back to your room.

Now after you find about the rat man in the walls, things are different. Brahms, even in the deepest REM cycle, will never let you go. Man is a koala and you are the tree he's clinging to for dear life. It's almost impossible to escape his arms at night.

Almost makes you sleep in the walls instead of the bedroom so you're safer. Like ain't no way you're getting out of those without him waking up.

Strangest thing he's seen you do: Sat up in bed, complaining about the maracas in your mouth??? He cried.

Billy Lenz 🎄

World's worst caretaker 👑

Especially before yall start dating because, at that point in time, he's still trying to decide if he wants to kill you. He won't lie, he very briefly thought about pushing you down the stairs.

But? After you win him over? Yeah still kinda sucks ass at keeping you from hurting yourself. He'll keep you alive, mind you, just a little worse for wear.

He asked you once if he could tie you down in bed. You didn't like the look in his eyes so you declined. Billy pouted for the next three days.

TBH he might do it anyways. Look he's just trying to keep your silly little self safe, S/O. Get your mind out of the gutter. Haha, jk...unless 😏?

The strangest thing he's seen you do is eat a entire bag of gummy bears while standing outside. He joined you.

Vincent Sinclair 🖌

Another prepared king 👑

His workshop is dangerous. Upstairs is dangerous. The whole town is health code violation. And bby cannot stand the idea of you hurting yourself.

But other then the constant anxiety that you'll some how end up falling off the stairs or falling into the wax or the any other number of things his brain comes up with, he's very level-headed.

Child safety locks. He buys that shit in bulk.

But hey, gives him a excuse to hold you at night. (Vincent, they're literally your s/o)

The strangest thing he's seen you do is stand over Bo's bed, chanting tomato. Bo almost cried.

Bo Sinclair 🔧

Definition of "Look at that idiot...oh wait that's my idiot!"

Honestly, probably the worst. Not like 'let's you just walk around' worst, but more like 'Imma gonna chain you to the bed' worst.

Dude's so scared of losing you, pretty much the best thing that ever happened to him, that his willing to go to drastic matters to keep you safe.

Don't try to explain the science behind it, you'll only give him a migraine. Just let him keep you safe. K, bby?

Bo's gonna lose sleep some nights, he's that scared. No doubt you will wake up to the feeling of someone watching you. Just comfort him, ok?

Strangest thing he's seen you do is sit up in bed and start singing 'Livin La Vida Loca'

Asa Emory 🪲

Number one prepared king™️

I'm not saying he may or may not, kinda sorta perhaps placed cameras around your living situation before you two even began dating. But yeah he did.

So he knows all about the crazy shenanigans you are up to at night.

He reads the books, watching online lectures 👏all👏the👏research. You can bet your sweet ass he knows exactly how to wake you up in case of emergency.

In the same breath, despite how much he does love you, science. Prepare to be studied like a bug under a microscope.

Strangest thing he's seen you do is standing with the refrigerator doors open, telling him how much you love this show.

Norman Bates 🚿

My poor sweet innocent murder bby. He doesn't know what to do.

Yeah, keep you safe, he's got that much down. But at what cost?

The hotel looks like a a daycare center now. Baby proofing everywhere (ask him about getting locked out of the bathroom, it's funny)

Suggested a collar once as a joke, wasn't expecting you to agree. Got flustered. Dropped his cup, maybe got a bone.

Another koala sleeper, so good luck escaping his embrace. Will go as far as following you to the bathroom to make sure you're actually awake.

Strangest thing he's seen you do is sit down in a fake potted plant in the living room and talk about dinosaurs.

[hedgehog-moss]

as a "beginner" dipping g his toes into nonfiction but as someone who otherwise enjoys pretty much any genre (and as such is open to anything, from educational to biographical), what would you recommend?

Oh, that's vast! You are forcing me to cast a wide net and give a thousand suggestions... I'm going to limit myself to 3 ideas per category so I don't go overboard.

Nature / environment: Carl Safina's Beyond Words: What Animals Think and Feel; Paul Kingsnorth's Confessions of a Recovering Environmentalist and Other Essays; Robin Wall Kimmerer's Gathering Moss

Science / medicine: Holly Tucker's Blood Work: A Tale of Medicine and Murder in the Scientific Revolution, Richard Preston's The Hot Zone, Paul Lockhart's A Mathematician's Lament (I mostly enjoyed the first part in which he rants about the current state of maths education and says maths deserves better) or Carl Sagan's Cosmos (if I write "or" between two book recs it only counts as one)

Language: I liked Arika Okrent's In the Land of Invented Languages so much that I won't even nominate anyone else in this category. ... But I'll make up for it by allowing myself additional titles in the next one:

Politics / society / culture: Jodi Kantor's She Said, Frederik & Bastian Obermayer's The Panama Papers, Caroline Criado-Pérez's Invisible Women, Patrick Keefe's Empire of Pain, Michael Meyer's The Last Days of Old Beijing, Barbara Demick's Nothing to Envy: Ordinary Lives in North Korea

History: I'm realising that everything that comes to mind is horribly bleak: Jack London's The People of the Abyss, Timothy Egan's The Worst Hard Time, Svetlana Alexievich's Voices from Chernobyl... I've read some fun historical nonfiction in French but right now the only thing I can think of in English that's not depressing is Matthew Goodman's The Sun and the Moon, the subtitle of which is: The Remarkable True Account of Hoaxers, Showmen, Dueling Journalists, and Lunar Man-Bats in Nineteenth-Century New York.

About literature: Wisława Szymborska's Nonrequired Reading, Alexandra Johnson's The Hidden Writer: Diaries and the Creative Life, Alberto Manguel's The Library at Night.

(I was going to include a philosophy section but I realised I p much exclusively read philosophy in French or Spanish, and it's usually recent stuff that's not been translated... But if you've never read philosophy I recommend Jostein Gaarder's Sophie's World, it's a novel about the history of philosophy so it straddles the line between fiction and nonfiction)

Biographies / memoirs: that's the majority of the nonfiction I read so it could be a whole post, but some I've really enjoyed are: Beryl Markham's West with the Night; Gerald Durrell's My Family & Other Animals; Fatema Mernissi's Dreams of Trespass, Ryszard Kapuściński's Travels with Herodotus, Mary S. Lovell's The Sisters (about the six Mitford sisters; if you enjoy it I'd recommend reading their correspondence next—Charlotte Mosley's "The Mitfords: Letters Between Six Sisters")

Miscellaneous: Emmanuel Carrère's The Adversary; Alexandra Horowitz's On Looking. Currently I'm reading Joan Druett's Island of the Lost because it's nice to relativise your own problems in life by reminding yourself that at least you're not stuck on a subantarctic island having to bludgeon sea lions and eat your own crewmates for survival.

[devildomwriter]

Mammon Birthday Special 100 Fun Facts

1. Mammon states that he sleeps in the nude

2. Mammon despises witches and was nearly chopped into pieces by them once but Lucifer rescued him (although Lucifer was also the one to recommend they cut him into pieces)

3. When Levi tried attacking Mammon in his sleep, before he could even bring his foot down on Mammon, Mammon had him in a headlock

4. Mammon has a habit of stripping while drunk

5. Mammon does not like it when bath’s smell like flowers

6. Mammon’s dream for the future is having a carefree and playful life

7. Mammon starts his baths by washing his head

8. Mammon’s fear of ghosts and monsters originates a little after a year of living in the Devildom when he is possessed by a ghost

9. Mammon hates a Devildom song called “Corpse Rock”

10. Karasu refers to Mammon as noodle-boy

11. In earlier chats and Devilgrams Mammon is said to be a cat person, in later stories he is said to be a dog person, but his birthday information card again states he is more of a cat person

12. Mammon’s motto is “Money will makes the Devil turn millstones.”

13. Mammon’s daily activity is procrastinating in MC’s room

14. Mammon is obsessed with his shades and when he accidentally breaks them he’s devastated

15. According to Beelzebub, Mammon is bad at cooking and doesn’t make good peanut butter sandwiches

16. When Belphie and Beel helped Mammon pick out his human world outfit, he was so touched he bought them their human world clothes

17. Mammon states if the Devildom disappeared tomorrow he’d borrow as much money as he wanted to spend and not have to pay any of it back

18. Mammon’s favorite food in hell is Soy Sauce flavored cup ramen

19. In a love survey in B’s log, Mammin is said to be the active one pursuing love

20. Mammon is said to attract the “sassy and outgoing” types

21. The first thing Mammon does in the morning is check his stocks

22. In the love survey in B’s log when asked if he’d want to be bound by or bind his lover his response was “what do you want me to do? What did you say? Idiot!”

23. Mammon’s car is a Demonio 666 Lexura. The specific type was very rare and (unbeknownst to him originally) only with Lucifer and Diavolo’s help was he able to get it

24. Mammon easily forgets anniversaries and special dates of remembrance

25. Mammon is unable to express himself frankly

26. Mammon likes R&B music

27. Mammon is not a morning demon

28. One of the first things in the game said about Mammon by his brothers is that he’s a masochist

29. The results of a demon brain scanning app showed that Mammon’s thoughts are 90% money

30. Mammon’s worst RAD subject is Hexes and Curses

31. Mammon became Lucifer’s attendant in the Celestial Realm before Leviathan had even been born

32. Mammon was once almost roasted alive by hellfire

33. Mammon is a very bad liar and often admits exactly what he did when explaining that’s not what he did

34. Mammon was almost the one to tame Cerberus but Lucifer rushed in as he was about to confront the dog

35. Mammon is extremely protective of his little brothers

36. When forced to be honest, Mammon admits how much he admires and respects Lucifer

37. When Lucifer has a bad day, Mammon will bring him a drink and sandwich without being asked

38. Mammon was almost kicked out of the celestial realm thousands of years before the fall until Lucifer got through to him

39. Besides the people who were told what Simeon was going through in season 4, Mammon was the first one to notice something was wrong with him

40. Once Mammon was punished by Lucifer by being tickled until he laughed so hard he was humiliated

41. Mammon was given a serum with unknown results that caused him to tell MC he wanted to do many explicit things with them

42. Even Michael was unable to handle Mammon as an angel

43. Mammon is so fast that not even Diavolo and Lucifer can catch up to him

44. It’s been mentioned multiple times that Mammon uses crows as familiars

45. When Lucifer cannot trust Diavolo, he turns to Mammon

46. Mammon once called up Simeon to ask about significant lines in the TSL series so he could successfully hack into Leviathan’s akuzon account

47. Levi and Mammon sometimes perform standup comedy

48. When Mammon tried making a cake for Lucifer on his birthday in the Celestial Realm, he accidentally destroyed the kitchen, infuriating Michael

49. Mammon works as a model occasionally

50. In lesson 11 of the game Mammon claims he is well over 5,000 years old

51. In the celestial realm Mammon would often watch over the younger angels

52. Mammon once tried selling bird feathers to the lesser angels, claiming they were seraph feathers

53. In the celestial realm, Mammon once used the lesser angels to play a game of life-size chess

54. Mammon is said to have been the one who rallied and encouraged the angels in the Celestial war

55. Unlike his brothers, Mammon doesn’t often lose control of his powers

56. Whenever Mammon comes up with solutions to a crisis, they usually make things worse

57. Mammon struggles with math unless he thinks about it as calculating money

58. Mammon loves pandas because they’re profitable

59. Mammon always lets his brothers know about sales and deals going on

60. Mammon is the one who told Lucifer to always have pride and not regret his decision about the war

61. Mammon was cursed to speak like a cat during season 4 and Satan was unable to leave his side even getting Mammon to play with cat toys.

62. The first time Mammon lost control of his powers and transformed into a demon in the game is when he misunderstood a conversation between Levi and MC and assumed they had “relations”

63. Mammon is one of the only people who will indulge Asmodeus and watch his one-man fashion shows

64. When Mammon put too many meals on Satan’s tab, Satan called up Solomon and told him Mammon wanted to try his new recipe

65. Mammon has kidnapped MC multiple times

66. Mammon sometimes goes clubbing with Asmo after part time jobs

67. After Mammon sold all of their silverware he was fired from Ristorante Six

68. Mammon is sometimes referred to as MC’s pet

69. Mammon continues to insist he’s MC’s master not the other way around

70. Mammon sees Luke as his little brother

71. Student council members used to oversee detention until Mammon kept getting detention himself

72. Mammon once accidentally cast a spell on himself that made him burst into song

73. Mammon once accidentally turned himself into a dog

74. Mammon accidentally cursed himself and became extremely small. He was scared of how Beel was looking at him

75. When Mammon made the Miss’em dolls he became extremely wealthy but later blew it all on gambling

76. Mammon is too scared to watch horror movies alone and asks Lucifer to watch them with him

77. Mammon once attacked Lucifer with a three-prong pitch fork when he embarrassed him

78. Mammon has cried from fear of Simeon multiple times

79. Mammon was unable to even pretend to break up with MC

80. Mammon is one of the reasons you need a permit to get to the human world rather than do so freely

81. Mammon got a Mohawk once but his brothers teased him so much he immediately got rid of it

82. Mammon loves the Devildom version of Harry Potter

83. Mammon often threatens lesser/younger demons to hand over all their money

84. Mammon once stopped a bank robbery and demanded the money as compensation

85. Mammon accidentally cut down a Christmas tree gifted to Lucifer from Diavolo

86. Mammon was tricked by Lucifer to gamble against everyone he’d ever screwed over all at once

87. Mammon calls going to the horse races “seeing the horsies” to try and convince MC to tag along

88. When he was Lucifer’s attendant, Mammon sought for a rare Crystal Lily flower to gift him but got lost and Lucifer had to come find him

89. Mammon used Serenity Manor as collateral in gambling as soon as he got to the human world, almost forcing everyone to go right back to the Devildom

90. When coming up with proposal’s Mammon forced Simeon, Solomon, and Luke to participate in a flash mob

91. Mammon has a blood oath with MC and Leviathan

92. Mammon accidentally won Henry 1.0 while trying his first Devildom ice cream. He was nearly eaten.

93. Mammon owns an AK-47 after winning it over in a game against Leviathan

94. Mammon fees guilty that he didn’t have a grand reason to follow Lucifer to hell rather than just feeling like it

95. Mammon once lost a bet to a bunch of rabbits

96. Mammon prefers spicy foods to sweets

97. Mammon extorted Satan for 50,000 Grimm in exchange for throwing him a baseball

98. Mammon’s highest known rank in the celestial realm within the game is a Throne

99. When Mammon was turned into a Test Name box he got used to it immediately, disappointing Beelzebub

100. Mammon died in season 4 for a few minutes but was brought back by Barbatos

[michaelsfavgirl]

heartstrings & rings

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: A thoughtless act on your part leads Michael to mistakenly believe you're planning to divorce him. Consumed by fear he spirals, thinking he's about to lose you.

Tags: light angst, angst with a happy ending, established relationship, misunderstanding, mention of divorce.

Word Count: 1.7k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: I'm trying to get better at writing angst

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

You’re in your luxurious walk-in closet, surrounded by the endless racks of designer clothes. The shelves stretch from floor to ceiling, filled with everything your heart has ever desired, all organized by season and color. You’re standing in front of a full-length mirror, your brows furrowed in concentration as you pull on a pair of pants, only to tug them off moments later.

You’ve been doing this for the past twenty minutes—putting on clothes, taking them off again, sifting through options like a stylist on a deadline. Today’s a shopping day with your friends and you want to look absolutely flawless. Of course, Michael insists that you use his card and not your own. He's always made it clear: what’s his is yours, and what’s yours is yours.

You smile at the thought, rummaging through your jewelry collection to find the perfect accessories. Your fingers absently fiddle with your wedding band and engagement ring as you try on a few necklaces and swap out a pair of gold earrings for something with more sparkle. 

Finally, after trying on half your closet, you settle on an outfit that showcases your sense of style. But as you give yourself a final once-over in the mirror, something doesn’t quite fit. Your rings, your beloved wedding band and stunning engagement ring, don’t quite match the vibe of your outfit.

Without thinking twice, you slip them off, replacing them with a few rings that go better with your look. You toss them onto the bed thoughtlessly, mentally noting to put them back on later, before walking out the door.

—

Meanwhile, Michael is wrapping up an exhausting day at the studio. He’s been working tirelessly, and all he can think about is coming home to you and recharging with a quick nap before you return from your shopping spree. He smiles to himself, thinking of how you’ll undoubtedly strut through the living room later, showing off your new outfits like you always do, and how he’ll cheer for every single one. It’s a tradition he cherishes, one that brings a sense of normalcy to his otherwise hectic life.

The house is quiet when he arrives. He heads straight for your shared bedroom, tossing his jacket onto a chair as he pulls off his shoes, already anticipating the comfort of your shared bed.

But as he approaches, something catches his eye. There, on the cozy sheets, are your wedding band and engagement ring, glinting in the sunlight like tiny, heart-wrenching beacons.

His breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s crumbling beneath his feet. He stares at the rings, his mind racing. Why would you leave them here? Why did you take them off? The thoughts claws at him, panic quickly seeping into his chest.

His heart pounds as he walks closer, sitting on the edge of the bed and picking up the rings with trembling hands. What does this mean? His thoughts spiral as he turns them over in his palm, his vision starting to blur. The weight of them feels like the weight of his worst fears—fear that he’s failed you, that he hasn’t been the husband you deserve. Is this how you’re telling him? Is this how you’re leaving him?

His chest tightens, and it becomes harder to breathe. He clutches the rings, pressing them against his chest as if holding them close would somehow keep you from slipping away. Tears fog his vision, spilling down his cheeks as his mind continues to spiral. How could he not have seen this coming? He thought things were perfect, that your marriage was growing stronger with each passing day. But apparently, he was wrong. He wasn’t good enough. He should have been more attentive, more loving, more… everything.

God, I can’t lose her, he thinks, his tears falling freely now, dripping onto his shirt as his whole body shakes. The love he feels for you is so deep, so consuming, and the thought of losing it—of losing you—makes his heart feel like it’s being torn apart.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even hear the door open. He doesn’t notice when you step inside, your arms laden with shopping bags and a soft smile on your face.

That smile drops instantly when you see him. His shoulders are hunched, his back trembling with silent sobs, and you can’t even see his face because he’s holding his head in his hands. Your heart clenches in panic as you lose your grip on all the bags and let them fall to the floor. You rush to his side.

“Michael? Michael, what’s wrong?” Your voice is filled with worry, your hands immediately cupping his tear-streaked face as you stand in front of him. You feel the wetness of his tears on your palms, your heart squeezing painfully at the sight of him like this—so vulnerable, so broken.

But his eyes… they don’t even meet yours. He looks past you, still holding something tightly in his hand. Your voice shakes as you plead with him. “Please, talk to me. What’s going on?”

He pulls your hands away gently but doesn’t speak. Instead, he drops to his knees, wrapping his arms around your legs, holding onto you like you’re his lifeline. His voice cracks, pleading as he presses his forehead against your thighs. “Please… please don’t do this. I’ll be better, I promise. Just… Please don’t leave me.”

You freeze, confusion flooding your senses. What on earth is he talking about? You feel his grip on you tighten, his body trembling against yours as his desperate words continue to spill out. “I’ll be more attentive, more loving… whatever you need. Just please, don’t leave. Don’t file for divorce.”

Your mind races, trying to make sense of his words, of why he’s in this state. Divorce? Leaving him? You’re about to beg him to explain when something catches your eye—his hand, the one that’s clutching something so tightly. You gently pry it open, revealing the rings in his palm.

Your wedding band. Your engagement ring.

And suddenly, it all clicks.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, the realization hitting you like a freight train. 

He looks up at you, his tear-streaked face filled with so much raw emotion that it nearly breaks your heart. His lips tremble as he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He just looks at you, utterly lost.

You feel horrible, guilt slamming into you as you realize what he must have thought when he saw the rings. Sinking down to his level, you wrap your arms around him, as you desperately try to bring him out of his haze.

“No, no, no. It’s not what you think. I just… I just took them off because they didn’t match my outfit. That’s all. I swear, I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to—”

He interrupts you, his voice still shaky but tinged with disbelief. “They didn’t go with your outfit?”

You nod, your throat tightening with emotion. “Yeah. That’s it. I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think about how it would look. I just… I didn’t want to clash, and I didn’t realize you’d—” Your voice falters, on the brink of tears yourself.

Michael stares at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he lets out a shaky laugh, a sound that’s so unexpected that it takes you a moment to process it.

“They didn’t go with your outfit,” he repeats, as if trying to wrap his head around the absurdity of it.

You nod again, your own tears threatening to spill over. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice cracking.

He shakes his head, letting out another soft chuckle, and suddenly he wraps his arms around your waist, his face buried against your chest as he laughs, really laughs this time, the sound full of relief and disbelief all at once.

You can’t help but giggle along, the tension between you evaporating in an instant. You lay your head against his curly hair, finally breathing out. The sheer absurdity of the situation is too much to handle, and soon you’re both laughing together, wrapped in each other’s arms as the misunderstanding dissolves into nothing.

“I can’t believe you thought I was divorcing you,” you say, your voice still tinged with laughter as you stroke his hair.

“I thought I was a terrible husband,” he admits, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression soft and vulnerable. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”

You shake your head, cupping his face in your hands as you gaze into his dark brown eyes. “You’re not a terrible husband. You’re the best husband I could ever ask for. And I’m sorry I scared you like that. I love you more than anything. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

He smiles softly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I love you too,” he whispers, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips. The kiss is slow and unhurried, helping him remind himself that you are his and he is yours. Body and soul.

For a long moment, you just stay there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the weight of the misunderstanding finally lifting as you hold each other close. And as you sit there, your heart full of love and relief, you can’t help but marvel at how deeply you love this man—the man who thought he wasn’t enough for you, even though he’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

Eventually, Michael pulls back, his smile soft and genuine as he takes your hand in his, gently sliding your rings back onto your finger. “There,” he says quietly. “Right where they belong.”

You smile, tears brimming in your eyes once more as you lean in to kiss him again. This time, the kiss is passionate and full of love, a promise of forever.

“Now,” you say with a playful grin as you pull back, “are you ready for the fashion show?”

He laughs, shaking his head as he wipes the last of the tears from his eyes. “Of course I am. My little fashionista.” And with that, the two of you fall back into the easy, playful rhythm that defines your relationship.

© michaelsfavgirl 2024

Taglist: @theladyinmoscow @yeriminist @yeaiamme2 @helloaugustmoon @cinnamoncunt @theladyofmylife @minekarina @kionaaa @theskinniestjackson-denny @leociinta @graciegizmo3184 @theasexual-jackson @mrsmikaelsxn @fallinlovewithevil @armasbw @b3rk1ey @sirusxx @maybe7tommorow @falllovesomemichealjackson @virgomjj @michaels-nonbinary-child @veavixen @elthoughtzos @kingayanna

[anjelicawrites]

Hello! May I request a pvert!michael gavey x reader being roommates and their power goes out during a winter storm so they have to share the bed for warmth and things gets pretty steamy in the shared bed... thank you!

Hi nonnie! This came out far longer than what I thought it would be! I hope you like it!

NSFW and 18+ only under the cut!

Warnings: reference to Michael x the agoraphobic girl, kissing, scratching, fingerfucking, p in v sex, dry humping, Michael being a bit darkish at the end.

The start of your second year in Oxford had been horrendous, from having to switch from your college to another, while all your friends remained there, to having been moved where that asshole Michael Gavey lives.

You should have nothing against the guy, you two have more things in common than almost all of your peers, yet you find him the personification of everything that irks you: the flaunting of his, admittedly, brilliant mind, his superiority complex and his complete disregard for social norms. His reasons for not liking you are a complete mystery.

You two try as hard as possible not to cross paths with one another, luckily enough your two degrees have just one class in common and you don't study in the library he goes to, preferring to walk a bit further and be with your friends. Even in the common room, you and Michael have managed to not to stumble upon one another, synchronizing your schedules so that, whenever one is using the room, the other is somewhere else.

Obviously the universe has to play another one of its sick tricks and disrupt the, fragile, harmony of your life, in the form of: the worst snow storm of the past ten years, the power going out and you struck in the college with him. Everyone is out for the weekend, but you and Michael, having both to study for a mid - semester test for the only class you two share.

You know he has no friends, not since Oliver Quick decided that hanging out with Felix Catton and his people was far more entertaining than the ramblings of a math nerd and you feel like Michael has dodged a bullet there, you don't know why. You are on your own because all your friends are on a week - end trip to London; you would have been there with them, if only the professor hadn't decided to be a bastard and move up the test date.

Your chagrin notwithstanding, you had a plan, which consisted of: sealing yourself in your room, heating turned to the max and study all day so you could watch some telly the night, or read one of the new books you bought and didn't have the chance to open, yet. A splendid plan indeed, which worked perfectly on Friday and is crushed on Sunday, when the electricity stops working, all of a sudden, with a pop.

You lift your head, almost giving yourself a whiplash, when the lights go out, all of a sudden and you can't hear MTV in the background anymore.

"What the hell?"

Uselessly you try the switch on the small lamp on your table and try to turn on your laptop: everything is dead. With a curse, you wrap your fleece night gown around yourself, and venture in the hall, where you discover that all the lights are off. You lock the door behind you, not wanting to disperse the warmth accumulated, in case the heating dies as well, and venture to the common room which is, predictably, dark.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

Comes from behind you and you jump around with a scream, hand clutching the robe. That fucking creep Gavey! There's some sort of power outrage and, of course, he's the only one around!

"Fuck you!" You pant, your heart is beating like a drum in your chest. "The feeling is mutual." He responds, his usual disdain in his voice.

Why in the name of all is holy does he hate you so?

You two stand in the dark, like two imbeciles, eyes locked, neither of you wants to be the one to ask the predictable question.

"Is someone else here with us?" You cave, in the end, sick and tired already of the whole situation.

Gavey stares at you, if possible, with even more contempt in his blue eyes.

"Afraid of being alone with me?" "No, you utter cretin. I was simply wondering if there's other students in the same predicament we are, or if the person in charge is around." "Everyone else is out and I haven't seen Mr. Collins."

You curse inwardly. As much as you don't like Michael, you two need help and are not going to find it in the common room.

"Let's go." Gavey turns his back at you. "Maybe he's in his office."

Begrudgingly, you follow him. You don't have that many hopes to find the man, it's too late, but maybe he's still around, because of the snow.

The light from the windows dwindles, forcing you and Michael to navigate the corridors and stairs carefully, until you two stand in front of Mr. Collin's office, the door locked.

You feel like banging your head against the wood, and you'd do it, if Michael weren't around.

"We need to contact him. Let him know of what's going on." You say, dejected. "Do you still have the information package given to you when you moved here?" "Yes, sure. Don't tell me smartest nerd of his cohort lost his!"

There's disdain in your voice but, hey! Not once he's ever been nice to you, why should you?

"Mine is in the drawer of my desk, in my room, on the last floor. Do you truly want to walk there in complete darkness?"

You're glad there's almost no light, or he'll see the embarrassed expression on your face: how is it, that you always manage to pass for a dimwit when you're in his presence?

"How do you know where my room is?" "You said it yourself. Smartest of his cohort. Now, shall we go?"

You want to punch him, you should punch him, maybe sheer, brute force will make him stop treating you like an imbecile.

"Since you know where I live, I hope you can make your way in this darkness. I am not waiting for you."

On purpose you slam your shoulder against him when you walk down the hall: you can't stand him and why are you struck in whatever this is with him?

You two walk in silence, fingers brushing against the paneling on the walls to keep a steady course, feet treading carefully on the stairs as you two descend in the creepy silence of the deserted college.

You have to try a couple of times, before you manage to open the locked door, the warmth, still trapped in the room runs a shiver down your back: you hadn't notice how cold the building is. Luckily enough there's isn't many trees outside your side of the building and the light can stream through your windows, helping to illuminate your room and the snowy, lunar landscape outside.

You head towards the bookcase near your desk, you're pretty sure you've stashed the college information booklet with all the random bits and bobs in the box on the top of the bookcase. You have to grab the chair to hoist yourself up and go to your tip toes, since the cardboard has been pushed all the way back.

"What a nice burrow you've made for yourself."

Again, Michael's voice makes you jump out of your skin and almost fall off your precarious perch. With one hand around the box, you turn to see that creep walk leisurely around your small room, his fingers touching gently your possessions; he scoffs at the fairy lights you've hanged on the wall behind your bed and he has the gall to open the wooden box where you keep all your different teas and take a sniff! You're torn between surprise and rage at the way Michael feels entitled to touch your belongings, it's like he's leaving a stain everywhere his hands touch.

"You made yourself home." He says, with that note of pity and contempt he seems to reserve for you and you only. "This is my home, Gavey." You retort. "Yes, I have noticed. Mirrors your...personality."

It's the way he says it that makes your blood boil. Yes, you like to have stuffed animals and pretty pillows on your bed! You have your small breakfast nook and use it during the weekends, when you don't have to rush to class! And yes, you are the kind of basic bitch who loves fairy light and cute animal gadgets! What is wrong with that?

"If you don't like it here, you're free to climb up your tower and contact Mr. Collins on your own!"

This seems to sober him, you reckon he doesn't want to face the chill and the pitch black of the corridors.

"Have you find it?" There's still contempt in his voice, at least he's stopped touching your belongings!

You don't answer, you simply jump down from the chair, booklet in hand.

Your mobile phone sits on the desk. In the sea of bullshit that today has been, at least the battery of your Nokia is still full and the light of the screen is bright enough to illuminate the booklet. Michael stands by your side as the two of you are bending over the desk, busy with finding the phone number you two need, maybe he's too close to you, but you don't notice it, worried as you are by the whole situation.

Mr. Collins answers the phone and is of no help.

"The blizzard damaged the power lines." He says over the terrible connection, his voice fills your room. "They're working on the issue but there's no saying how long it's going to take!" "We can't just sit in the dark for days!" You say, trying not to sound too panicked. "Not days, love." Mr. Collins tried to soothe you. "Probably the whole night. Do you have enough blankets and a duvet?" "What for?"

You and Michael stare dumbly at one another, then a terrible realization hits the two of you.

"The heating system is electronically controlled. With the power down, the furnace stops working for security reasons."

You want to scream. Mr. Collins sounds so calm and controlled, probably sitting at home, heating on, while you're struck in your room, which will become unbearably cold during the night. Michael curses.

"Who's with you, love?" "Michael Gavey. We're the only two people in the building." He answers. "Look after one another, my boy." Mr. Collins says. "The furnace has already shut down but it will take a while for the heath to dissolve completely. You two should be fine, as long as you keep your doors closed and use all the blankets you have."

When the conversation ends, you turn your head to look at Michael, who is hovering over you, even with his back partially bent over the table, one hand planted next to your phone. Being so engrossed with the problem at hand, you just realize how much in your personal space Michael is and, is he smelling your hair?

"What?" He asks and looks genuinely surprised at your cross expression.

You take a deep breath. The poor lad, as off putting as he is, is in this sinking ship with you and you are a grown ass person who doesn't take their frustrations on another person. Michael was probably standing too close to you, but you two have bigger issues to face.

"Nothing. I simply hate all of this." "Me too."

Yes, he's definitely invaded you space, but he looks miserable in his too thin jumper and this situation is not something neither of you know how to handle. As Mr. Collins said, you two should look after one another.

"Do you have enough blankets?" You ask. "I have my duvet. Why?"

You are not surprised: the guy carries his stuff around in a crumpled Tesco bag, he probably doesn't care about buying pretty things for the sake of it, like you do.

"I was thinking about how cold it's going to become in a few hours. Are you going to be all right up there?"

You can't read Michael's expression in the dark room, the moonlight streaming through your windows has panted a mask on his face.

"I should be." He shrugs. "Warm air travels upwards." "Are you sure?" "The laws of physics don't change."

If he's trying to be a smart ass, he's failing. He looks awkward, standing with his arms down his body and the striped pants he's wearing, harmless and absolutely incapable of looking after himself. He's probably as worried as you are, but he's not letting you see it, you two are not friends and you two have to navigate this problem alone, no adult in sight to take the reins.

"Help me Michael." You say.

You know you're going to regret what you are about to propose, but you are not an asshole, not even towards him: the power outrage is far more important that you two not liking one another for whatever stupid reasons.

You grab the chair and put it near the wardrobe, before hoisting yourself up to grab the box you keep there.

"What are you doing?" He sounds surprised "Just take this!"

The box is heavy, your arms tremble with the effort to keep it over your head, while you turn around. With a huff you give it to Michael, who has to take a couple of steps back when he realizes how big the thing is.

"What do you keep here? Stones? The bodies of your enemies?"

Jesus Christ, you think, he doesn't know how to crack a joke to save his life!

You don't answer and direct him to put the cardboard box on the bed, where you proceed to open it, before starting pulling out all the blankets you've stored there.

Michael stares at you with genuine surprise on his face, not that you're looking at him, engrossed in emptying the box before you two die of hypothermia.

"You do like to be cozy!"

There it is again, the judging tone. You should kick him out of your room for it.

"Michael, don't make me regret the offer I am about to make." "Which is?"

Again, the moonlight doesn't offer enough light to read his face and he's standing too close to you for comfort, but you tell yourself he's socially inept and there's little else you two can do now.

"Let's share the bed. We can put all the blankets on and wait until the power comes back."

He stays silent for such a stretch of time that you don't know what to think.

"Did you make this?"

His fingers curl around the first crochet blanket you ever made. The thing looks crooked and it's not a perfect rectangle, but it was the first piece you ever finished on your own.

"I've picked up knitting and crocheting last year." Why do you feel like you have to justify yourself? "It's a grandma hobby" "At least I have blankets. Do you want to go freeze in your room?"

Michael doesn't answer and starts spreading your collection of throws and quilts on the bed.

"It's still a grandma hobby." He reiterates. "At least I have a hobby. What do you do in your spare time?" "Read books about maths." "I might be a grandma but you are boring." "Mathematics is not boring!" "I said you are." "At least I don't have the same hobbies my nan has." "That's rich coming from the guy who dresses like his grandfather!"

You two finish preparing the bed bathed by a dense silence. Why does he have to be an asshole all the times? You've extended your hand to him and he has the balls to shame you for what you like to do in your spare time! You hate when intelligent people act like they're entitled to be rude. You are not MENSA material the way he is, but you are brilliant and are always nice to everyone, even to him! He should, at least, do the same! Not touching your things without your permission and not even say that he's sorry! Instead, he is laying in your bed, warm and cozy, under the covers you've made with your 'Grandma hobby'. He's such an asshole and you hate that, of all the people in your college you are in this mess with him!

The bed is not made for two people to share, which means you two have to lie closer than what you'd like, good, because you two can share body warmth, bad because it feels strangely intimate. You've had your sexual experiences, a couple of times you've woken up in a stranger's bed, fuzzy on the details of how you've managed to get yourself there, none of the experiences ever felt as weird as trying to fall asleep with your back to Michael, who is attempting to arrange his long limbs in order not to touch you.

With all his moving, Michael is driving you insane and has already kicked you by mistake in the shins.

"Are you done?" All the pity you felt for him has already flown out of the window. "I can't find a good position." "Me neither! But I'm not squirming like a pinned worm!" "Well then, I was trying to avoid this!" He stops moving about, letting his legs fall against yours and one arm attached to your side. "Happy now?"

He sounds exasperated.

"At least I can try to sleep!" You answer, already done with him: this is the last time you are nice towards him, from tomorrow he gets treated like the asshole he is, power outrage be damned!

It's the cold that awakens you that, and the raging erection against your arse.

You don't know what time it is, having left your mobile phone on the table after the call with Mr. Collins. It's probably the middle of the night and whatever issue the blizzard has caused, hasn't been resolved yet.

"What the hell, Gavey?!?"

You kick him in the attempt to distance yourself from his cock and he wakes startled.

"What happened?" He stares owlishly at you, his glasses folded on the bedside table. "Check your pants, that's what happened!"

He doesn't move for a second and then simply readjust his position to keep his hips away from you.

"Not my fault." "You can, at least, say you're sorry!" "What for? I don't control my dick!" "Oh bollocks! You should say you're sorry anyway! I didn't want to wake with your cock against my arse!" "You got your panties in a bunch when I was trying to find a good position! Now you're angry because I have an erection. Check your priorities and this would have happened with anyone, by the way!" "As if you've ever slept with thousands of people!" "I've slept with more girls that you did!" "Somehow I doubt it!"

Oh, the look of surprise in his face is worth being awake, in the cold, because of his cock. Not to brag, but you've had your experiences with girls as well, since you've enrolled into Oxford. You're still unsure if you like boys more, but you're pretty certain your body count is far higher than his.

"You should do something about it."

He sounds angry now, why? Gone is the surprise on his features, replaced by a darkness that makes you distance from him.

"What do you mean?" "If my hard on is such an issue, you should do something about it."

OK, you think, what is happening all of a sudden?

"Go do something yourself!" Despite the cold you can feel burning embarrassment spread all over your body. "I'm not the one fussing about it." His big hand curls around your wrist to tug at it. "You are. It's only logical that you do something about it."

You lie frozen on the spot. You would have never expected the night to evolve this way, for your act of generosity to become this.

"What are you going to do, Gavey? Force me?"

You try to put on a brave front, knowing full well that you could never stop him if he decides to take advantage of you; he's scrawny, but stronger than you are.

"No. You'll just have to fall asleep with my hard cock next to your arse. Not that I am complaining."

The slap resonates in the silent room, your hand stings where it connected with his cheek.

"You're a pig, Gavey!" "Hit me all you want." He responds calmly, turning his head to face you. "It doesn't change that you're the one embarrassed, not me." "You have no shame, haven't you?" "I didn't decide to wake up with an hard on, I'm simply not making a tragedy out of it, like you are!" "I'm not!" "Then why are you playing the shy virgin? Haven't you slept with more people than I did?" "You wish I slept with you." You retort.

He eyes you trying to assess your curves hidden by the layers of fleece you're wearing and then scoffs.

"Don't get your hopes up. There's plenty of hotter people out there." "But you want me to wank you." "Only because me having an erection offends you. With that gone you can stop clutching your pearls." "Oh, now you're in for it, Gavey!" You Grab him by his horrid jumper to pull him closer to you. "Stop painting me like some sort of blushing prude!" "Make me." He says.

In the darkness you can't see how enlarged his pupils are, but you can feel his cock swell when his hands pull your hips closer to his.

You know you should let all of this go, laugh in his face, perhaps, and then try to sleep, but you've never been able to refuse a dare, never in your life you had ever backed down from a fight, you're not going to start now, not with him involved!

You crash your lips against his, kissing him aggressively and he responds with equal ferocity, one hand in your hair to keep your face slanted against his. He bites down your lower lip and you moan, hips kicking against his erection, while his tongue invades your mouth, possessive in his attempt to make you submit.

You're not letting him have all the control, not when you can curl one leg around the side of his hip to ground your cunt against his erection, forcing him to cease his attack, his head turning to the side, a long whine escaping his pretty lips. Why do the assholes have the loveliest mouth and eyelashes?

You turn him on his back, your hips working his, your cunt sliding against his trapped erection: you want him to come into his pants, you want to punish him for being such an asshole. Shame him, even!

You pin him on the bed, your hands on his shoulder so you can ground faster against him, your cunt wet and safe in your pants as he moans and tries to buckle under you, his torso tries to arch when you get the angle perfectly and reduce him to his baser instincts, to his rough cock trapped under layers of clothes, the pain of it sliding against the cotton of his briefs and the pleasure curling at the base of his spine.

He doesn't want to let go like this, like a schoolboy, but you've put all your weight on his hips and are grounding and grounding against his cock, your lower lip trapped between your teeth doesn't stop your whines when his head bumps against your clit, your pleasure becomes his and he comes in his briefs, panting and moaning, small whines of overstimulation when you don't stop moving. But your whole weight is not on his hips anymore, and that's your mistake.

His mind is still hazy, the pleasure you've subjected him to is like a cloud, but he's not going to have a better chance at getting the upper hand than now that you are breathless and moving lazily over him.

Like manacles, his hands curl on the meat of your hips and he turns you on your back and uses his legs to keep your nice and spread, his fingers slide inside under your panties to find your cunt.

"Let's see what we have here." His voice is still laced with the pleasure you've given him but holds an edge that makes you shiver. "You're drenched." "Says the pot to the kettle."

Two of his long fingers in your cunt erase any more smart comments on your part, his thumb on your clit has you moan and and arch under him. He's found that spot easily and bullies it mercilessly, the same way you did his trapped cock: you're going to come for him and then he's going to fuck you the way you deserve.

You grab at him, your nails scratching down his jumper, high pitched squeals of pleasure leave your open mouth, you look at him desperate, small tears gather at the corner of your eyes as his fingers fuck you faster and force your walls to accept their invasion, and he moans at the thought of your muscles wounding around his cock, sucking him in, strangling him.

"Michael!" You beg, your legs tremble, hips pumping fast to follow his punishing rhythm. "Come, now!"

You don't know what breaks you, his fingers or his thumb on your swollen clit, or maybe the command in his voice, the knot in your belly snaps and you come with a shout, back arched to the point of pain, eyes closed that don't see his dark expression.

You're trying to catch your breath, eyes still closed when you feel Michael's fingers at the hem of your pants as he tries to undress you.

"I'm too tired." You slur. "I'm not." One of his hands takes yours and puts it on his erection. "I'm not done with you."

Reflexively your fingers curl around his manhood, your brain truly realizing how well endowed he is.

"Do you have a permit for that?"

High on endorphins you has a terrible sense of humor, not that he cares, he wants your cunt, not your brain.

"I just need a condom." "Bedside table. Small box."

Michael stares at you, spread out and already fucked out on the bed, how beautiful and tempting you are, he only wishes he could see you naked, lick your skin and bite every inch of your body, until you beg him to stop, suck on your tits until they're bruised and your nipples over sensitive. Eat your cunt until you pass out and wake you up with his cock fucking you. He has to curl his hand around his base, or he'll come in his pants, again and he doesn't want to waste his erection like that, he wants you to milk him for all he's worth.

You're staring at him under your eyelashes, who would have thought that math nerd extraordinaire Michael Gavey could give you an orgasm that made your legs tremble?

He's pretty, you realize as you observe him bathed by moonlight while he rummages through the contents of your bedside table, long fingers and a shapely nose, a truly breathtaking chiseled face; if only his personality were better, he could have all the girls fawning over him!

"Oh Christ!"

You realize you've said it out loud when he smirks with one hand at the base of his impressive cock: he's going to split you in two.

"Pull your pants down." "I'm cold." You whine. "Bloody hell what a pain you are!"

He hasn't undressed, he has just pulled his trousers and underwear down enough to free his straining cock, you do the same and shiver: whatever heath the furnace had maintained, is now gone. You're grateful when he pulls the covers over your bodies, after he's made his way between your spread legs.

"Go slow, please?" His impressive manhood truly scares you, you've never had something that big inside of you.

He regards you with an unreadable expression. Part of him wants to punish you for the way you had made him come, but he wants you to enjoy what he's about to do or he'll never get a chance at doing this ever again, if he's hurt you.

"I will, relax."

He tries to use a gentle tone with you, something that doesn't come easy to him, the trust he sees in your eyes makes him want to make fun of you like he always does, but his cock is pulsating in his hand, it hurts and strains towards your wet cunt. Nice and slow, he needs to go nice and slow.

You whine when his broad head pushes inside your drenched hole, your hands instinctively go to his chest to push him away and he stops, letting you adjust to his size before he starts pushing in, short movements that open you up slowly with squelching sounds and moans of pleasure.

You sound better than any porn he's ever watched, all desperate, as if he's hurting you, your whines go to his cock, your muscles apply the perfect amount of pressure and he almost topples over the edge. He has to stop midway to breath and concentrate, a difficult task with your sinful hips moving slowly against him, your hole truly tries to suck him in, the way he had imagined. You want him as badly as he wants you and that excites him beyond belief.

He's so thick it feels like he's splitting you in two, yet your cunt hungers for him, your muscles clench around his him and you have to relax, let him open you up to his invasion, mold your cunt to accept his cock, feel every nerve spark with pleasure as he enters you and every inch of his manhood slides against your walls.

You arch your back when he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours as your last brain cell marvels at the way your hole has sucked him in completely: you're so full and stretched like never before that you'd purr, if you could.

A long whine escapes your lips when he bends forward to cage you with his arms, his eyes observing every small expression dancing on your features, the pleasure he sees only enhancing his desire.

His first pushes are short and slow, he testes your reaction and almost chokes on his tongue when your hips start following his, your muscles curling around his erection.

"Faster Michael, please!"

Your fingers find the skin of his back, your nails rake down his spine, the small pain spurring him on to fuck you with deeper and faster pushes, his lips hovering over yours, as he drinks down all the delicious sounds you are making, your cunt a squelching mess around his cock. He just needs to adjust his aim and he finds your g-spot, your whines make him bully it with faster pushes that have you squirm under him, your legs curling impossibly tight around his hips, his cock forcing your muscles to open, to take it like the whore you are, his whore.

You've lost control of your body, the only thing you feel is his massive cock in your cunt, pushing against your g-spot and his thumb on your abused clit, both movements fast and unforgiving as you try to beg for mercy, for pleasure, deaf to his words of praise and degradation, to him demeaning you for needing his cock, for liking the way he's fucking you. Nothing else matters but the pleasure burning through your nerves, but the coil in your belly that's curling and curling, until everything goes white and you come, the hold of your cunt so tight that Michael follows you with three deep pushes and a moan.

Michael is tired and wired up at the same time. His body is wasted, yet he can't fall asleep the way you did, all curled up against him, trusting and cute, with your hair around your head like an halo and one hand in his. Fucking the agoraphobic girl had been a great way to learn how to pleasure someone, if he has to go by the all the delicious sounds you made, sounds he wants to hear again and again, until whatever hold you have on him disappears. He knows he is not in love, he is not hardwired for that, but feels this unspeakable attraction towards you, this need to possess and consume you to his heart's content; the power outrage and him challenging you the chances he couldn't waste to slip through your walls and use your good heart and your pride to get to your cunt: you have been so easy to read from the moment he had started studying you like he would a mathematical problem. Now the real issue is to find a way to make this arrangement last, love or not, he's hooked on you and he's not going to let go, not until he's sated and can stop thinking about you and imagining you while he's having a wank: you've been the star of his spank bank from the first time he's seen you, despite your sunny disposition towards the word, the very thing that irks him. Michael knows he needs you out of his system in order to ignore you the way he does all his peers, having you as many times as he needs the only solution to the problem at hand. And you will, he'll make sure of that.

[thebearer]

happy fishes day to all who celebrate.

thinking about the chaos that would be your first berzatto christmas eve.

donna is worse than usual. angry and annoyed and mean. she barely speaks to you and when she does it’s to make a snide comment about how you keep “her son” away from her. it infuriates carmen.

sugar is on edge and you can’t even turn to her. she is wound tight, watching and trying to stay one step ahead but falling behind.

richie is nice, of course, hospitable and funny the way he always is. but you can’t help but feel he’s off. you know it’s because of michael, his absence lingers over the house in a haunting way.

carmen, your beloved carmen, is a wreck. sneaking out for a million cigarettes, trying to keep his mother appeased and preoccupied so she won’t take jabs at you. he’s furious when she does, lashing out in a way you’ve very rarely seen. hurtful words, barking tones, hand rubbing down your thigh to steady himself, knee bouncing under the table.

you realize then why carmen is the way he is sometimes. so tightly wound. so anxious. he hadn’t told you much about his family, especially about his mother, and now you knew why.

he’s embarrassed in the car on the way home. unsure of what to say, preparing for the worst. that you decided you didn’t want to be with him, that his family had ruined yet another thing in his life.

“that was…”

“fuck, i-i know. i’m sorry. i-u didn’t know she’d be that bad. i fuckin’ told sugar to keep her and get her together, but she’s just… she drinks a lot and-and then she-“

“-carm.” you put your hand in his shaking one, squeezing it softly. “it’s alright. i had fun.”

carmen blinks. “no, no you didn’t. you don’t have to lie to me, baby, i-i know it wasn’t-“

“-i had a great time, carmen.” you smile softly. “fak and richie showed me your old room. richie managed to find this photo album, you know? they brought me in the den with your cousins. they made me swear not to tell you because they knew you’d get mad.” you giggled, head lolling against the seat.

carmen blushed, finger swiping under his nose, looking down at the steering wheel. “you were a cute baby.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” you grin. “same hair.”

“yeah.” carmen snorted. “never changed.”

“i like it.” you hum, finger stroking over a stray curl. “pete gave us a gift for anchovy.”

“of fuckin’ course he did.” carmen rolled his eyes. “at least it’s not another tuna casserole. brought another fish to seven fishes.”

[calmcoldevening]

Slashers x suicidal!reader

TW: suicidal thoughts, mention of blood, suicide, self harm, explicit suicide

Characters: Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

I wrote this for people who have had suicide attempts or still have suicidal thoughts. honey, you are not alone, if you have such a problem, then please talk to someone from your loved ones about it or visit a psychologist. your health and life are important ♡ at least let's talk about it together, you're wonderful

Ps: sorry for misspels, English is not my native language

Jason Voorhees

• Jason spent most of the day making his rounds around the camp. In the morning, he gently kissed you on the forehead, removing the strands of hair stuck to your skin wet from the summer heat, and mumbled contentedly, enjoying your calm expression.

• This day was not distinguished by anything special. It was the middle of July, so it was quite hot both outside and in the cabins. Knowing that you are certainly suffering from such hot weather, Jason decided to offer you to go to the lake. And although he wasn't a fan of the idea himself, the cool water should have made you feel a little better.

• Jason enters the house and stops awkwardly. Usually at this time you were sitting in the living room and reading one of the new magazines or books that he found for you. You weren't in the bedroom either. The man was seriously scared, fearing the worst.

• Finally, he notices the light pouring from behind the bathroom door and freezes right in the doorway. You were lying almost up to your neck in the reddening water. His bloody knife was lying on the floor.

• Jason is seized with instant panic. At first, he thinks that it could have been done by one of the violators, whom he simply did not notice during his morning rounds. But then in his aching head there are memories of your repeated jokes about death and strange behavior. God, he was so blind.

• Jason gently pulls you out of the water. Your eyes are closed and your body is very cold and pale. The man quickly carries you into the bedroom, completely oblivious to your blood covering all his clothes.

• He checks all the lockers in your shared bedroom, hoping to find one of your small first aid kits. Finally he finds it. The man clumsily bandages your wounds on your arms and stomach, then covering the throbbing flesh with anxious kisses.

• Tears flow down his cheeks as he squeezes your palm in his hands and makes painful sounds. Jason climbs onto the bed and pulls you into his arms along with a warm blanket, hoping to warm your unconscious body.

• He was such a fool not to notice your obvious pain and suffering. Was it that bad for you? Why didn't you tell him about it? Jason could have helped, he would have tried! It will be so bad for him if you are gone...

• The man noticed how your face twisted and you opened your eyes slightly, squinting from the bright light. He was so glad you woke up! Jason gently ran the thumb of his free hand over your cheek, wiping away the already dried tears. He held you as close to him as possible, his excited breath tickled your ear. Don't leave him. Never.

• A hoarse breath escapes from your chest as Jason babbles incoherent sounds of relief. When you fully recover, he relaxes his grip on your body, giving you the opportunity to move, and tilts his head to the side. Why did you do that? Still weak, you shyly look away. You probably didn't think it would turn out that way, he came too early. But deep down you wanted and hoped that he would save you. You awkwardly squeeze the edge of the blanket, stilling sobs. Jason covers your hand with his palm, drawing your attention. He obviously wants to tell you something.

• Index finger at himself. Then at you. His palm touches his lips, and then covers his heart.

Michael Myers

• Michael was out hunting. He usually returned early in the morning, but today Haddonfield was surprisingly quiet, so the man decided to return home a little earlier. After all, you should have been asleep a long time ago, so his earlier return won't be anything special.

• Michael came in through the back door. He took off his dirty shoes, leaving it on the doorstep. You've never been thrilled when you found bloody footprints all over your house in the morning. The man went into the kitchen, intending to get something to eat before he went to bed. The choice was made on a can of lemonade and a pack of chocolates that you bought especially for him not so long ago. Michael rolled up the edge of the mask on the way to the living room and began to eat sweets.

• An instant icy shiver went through his body when he saw you in the living room, hanging in a noose. The food flew out of Michael's hands as he pulled a bloody knife out of his pocket and yanked the rope. The man gently picks up your limp body, pressing it to his chest. He tries to act quickly.

• Smiths Grove has never said anything about rescuing sufferers of asphyxia, but Michael is knowledgeable enough about the abilities of the human body to help. He puts your feet on his knees, gently laying your head on the floor, and wraps his palm around your neck, reddened from the rope. There will be a bruise. The man feels a barely perceptible pulse. For the first time, the whispers in his head fell silent, leaving behind only an unaccustomed painful silence.

• Michael clumsily touches his lips to yours, hoping to do something similar to artificial respiration.

• His body relaxes when your mouth begins to swallow air quickly and superficially on its own, returning your lungs to working condition.

• Michael would be angry if it was another person he was trying to kill. But now he's ready to cry with happiness, watching your eyes slowly open.

• The man jerks up your body, knocking the last air out of your lungs, and presses you to him. He kisses your neck, and you feel warm liquid trickling down your skin. He was crying. The shape of Haddonfield was crying because of you. Michael was afraid of losing you forever.

• "Don't leave," he whispers into your neck, desperately clutching the fabric of your clothes in his fists, "Please."

• The mask has been dropped and is lying on the floor, and now you can see his trembling features. A man runs his palm over your face. For him, you are the most precious thing in this world, even if he didn't say it out loud. You are the first person who made his heart beat faster not because of a desire to kill, but because of a warm tickling feeling in his chest. Love. Michael loved you. For real.

Thomas Hewitt

• It was a particularly quiet day. New tourists were not expected in the next two weeks, until the weather outside the window becomes more favorable; Luda, along with Charlie and Monty, went to distant relatives to celebrate the upcoming holidays, and Thomas spent the whole day in the basement, trying to restore order there.

• And although the man was already pretty tired from work, he still couldn't go upstairs to hug you and spend time together. He has too much to do before his mother and uncles return. Although he was scared by the fact that you've been avoiding him for the last few days. You seemed more closed and scared, as if you were afraid even of your own shadow. You often skipped meals, although Thomas didn't notice that you were against their "special food" before. You were pale and nervous, but he couldn't understand what was happening to you. To all his questions, you refused and said that everything was fine. He was afraid to put pressure on you.

• But it was too quiet upstairs right now. If earlier it was possible to hear your rare quiet footsteps on the old creaking floor, now there was a tense silence in the air. It bothered Thomas.

• Would it be so bad if he left work for a while to check on you?

• The man wiped his hands on a towel lying on the workbench and wandered towards the stairs. The old floorboards screamed, cutting through the silence pressing on the temples like blades. Thomas walked around the entire first floor when, going up the stairs, he heard your quiet sobs. He instantly rushed into your bedroom, from which the noise was coming. The man forcefully opens the door; the tree thuds against the concrete wall.

• You were sitting on the bed, clutching the knife tightly in your hand. Your free hand was like a piece of naked flesh, as if you were one of the victims. Blood was quickly flowing out of your fresh wound, staining your clothes and sheets. Your face was red, and streams of tears were running down your cheeks.

• The man's lips trembled, his eyes ran in disbelief over your shrinking being. Thomas approaches you quickly, cautiously, holding out his hand to you. He touches your trembling shoulder, pulling you to him as gently as possible. With one hand, he buries himself in your wet hair at the back of your head, while with the other, as carefully as possible, he snatches the knife out of your hands. You cry loudly, as if coming to your senses, and bite your nails into his broad back. Thomas wraps his hands around your face, gently running his thumbs over your cheeks. His heart hurts. Why did you want to do this? Is it because of him? Has someone offended you? Why didn't he notice how desperate you were all this time? This strange behavior, lack of mood and apathy, it was all for a reason.

• Thomas picks you up under your knees in wedding style and carries you to the bathroom, intending to treat your wounds. You were the real sun in his life, you accepted him and loved him despite his disgusting appearance, you were one of the few who accepted him for who he is. But he didn't do the same for you. You were suffering, and he preferred not to interfere with your thoughts, for fear of harming you even more.

• The man was carefully watching you and your tired eyes from what happened, wrapping your left forearm with a thick layer of bandages. Thomas gently runs his finger over your swollen cheeks, removing wet strands from your skin.

• Finally, he gently takes your healthy palm and draws a question mark, asking why you would like to do this. You were silent. He frowns, but nods knowingly. He'll ask a little later, you need to rest. Thomas draws a small heart and kisses the inside of your palm, and then kisses each finger. He wants you to know that he really loves you and is ready to help. You're not alone.

Vincent Sinclair

• Vincent started paying more attention to your behavior. You became more distant and silent, you were constantly in your thoughts, sometimes even at moments when one of brothers was talking to you.

• Did he upset you in some way? Or maybe you feel bad because of Bo's harsh comments?

• You often locked yourself in the bathroom or in your shared bedroom while the man was working in the basement. It bothered him. It was as if you were withering right before his eyes, dissolving in his arms.

• Vincent didn't know how best to talk to you about it, after all, expressing his own thoughts is not his strong suit. But he wanted to help you. One day, when you looked particularly drooping, he returned to the bedroom a little earlier than usual, hoping to talk to you. What was his surprise when he found you with a blade in your hands. You sat on the edge of the bed, biting your lip, and left slow deep cuts on your body.

• The man quickly ran up to you, snatching the bloody object from your hands and threw it into another part of the room. His gaze trembled, wandering over your wounded flesh. Thousands of painful thoughts raced through his head as he slowly knelt down in front of you, wrapping his hands around your hands and gently stroking the back side.

• Vincent wanted to show you how much he cares about you, how much he loves you. His heart ached when he saw your tears mixed with your own blood.

• Water gushed out of your eyes when you poured out all that pain accumulated in your chest, allowing yourself to cry. Your body was shaking and hurting. Vincent put his arm around you, gently stroking your back and trying to calm your sobs.

• You have him. You don't have to deal with all the pain alone. Vincent knows how strong you are, but that doesn't mean you have to keep all the problems to yourself. He wants to help.

• The man pushed the mask off his face, exposing his lips, and slowly began to cover your face and neck with kisses, trying to take away your pain. You were his only ray of light in this pitch darkness, and he won't let you fade away. He loves you.

[comfortscripts]

Santa's Statistics Helper ¬ Michael Gavey

Plot - In the midst of the worst Christmas of your life, you meet an arrogant genius who takes pity on your inability to do statistics. Pairing - Michael Gavey x PsychologyStudent!Reader Notes/Warnings - As a psychology student who hates statistics, this was just based off how my boyfriend explains it to me. Michael is a bit of a sweetheart in this with streaks of arrogance. Not proofread so I apologise in advance if it is terrible Word Count - 1,943

Sunday the 10th of December

“As it helps identify the patterns, the correlation matrix is useful in psychological testing, economics, risk management, and statistics. Calculated as (x(i)-mean(x))*(y(i)-mean(y)) / ((x(i)-mean(x))2 * (y(i)-mean(y))2. This mode- Oh for fuck’s sakes!”

Slamming the monotone textbook of your nightmares closed and shoving it to the opposite side of the oaken table, you breathe a sigh of frustration. Four hours you’ve been trying, 240 minutes of your life spent in a lonely library struggling to grasp the difference between a correlation matrix and covariance matrix. If someone told you when you picked psychology that you’d be sacrificing your Christmas to study for some pathetic quantitative methodologies’ module, you would have switched your career pathway to dogwalker.

Unfortunately, you aren’t a bloody psychic so here you sit with red rimmed eyes, frizzing hair from repeatedly tugging at it, and longing for being home watching The Polar Express. A string of swears partnered with the shuffling of papers acted as your soundtrack for the next few minutes as you attempted to build back up your confidence.

“You made it this far; you can do this! Once this module is done, you can get a pint and burn your calculator.”

Just as you leant to grab the textbook, a voice broke through your bubble of academic frustration.

“Don’t think you’d get very far burning a calculator after a few pints, I’ve seen how you handle your alcohol.”

Jumping backwards in your chair, eyes frantically assessing the source of the teasing words. There he stood, Michael Gavey. You had only met him in once during Freshers, but after minimal contact with him, you understood that he looked down on your choice of degree. Mutterings of how it is a pointless degree for vapid girls who would become housewives or receptionists within years of graduation. Mousy hair that had no clear style, smudged glasses, and an oversized maroon jumper that made him appear wider than usual.

Perhaps it was your lack of sleep, but Michael Gavey seemed to be far better looking than before.

“What the fuck Gavey?! Could have given me a heart attack, and I know you are smart but you aren’t a bloody doctor.” Clutching your chest to emphasise the theatrics of your startled self, a small huff left your person with the final word.

With a soft chuckle, the lanky boy slid into the chair opposite before resting his judgmental eyes on your figure. Assessing your appearance as if you were one of his equations. Those denim blues flickering between you and the scattered papers filled with incorrect or half-complete statistical equations.

Moments passed in silence, and with each second you grew more agitated with the piercing gaze from the bespectacled boy. “What are you even doing here Gavey? Is Christmas too simple and mainstream for you to celebrate?”

“I would ask you the same question, but from what I recall you seem to embrace the simple. Or does that only apply to your choice in degree?”

That fleeting thought of attraction was zapped from the air as his words bit at your confidence. Usually, a quick-witted response would fall from your lips, but after days of struggling, it was difficult to view yourself as anything but a student heading towards failure.

It was clear to tell the atmosphere had shifted, a tense weight fell between the pair of you. Watching as his calculated smirk fell, understanding that perhaps his words might not have been appreciated in this moment.

“What do you want Michael? I’m too busy to be belittled today.”

“Well, I was planning on asking you to be quiet. I’ve had to listen to your ridiculous murmurings for the past 2 hours. Not to mention the constant echoing of you abusing those poor books.” Straightening himself in the padded wooden seat, attempting to appear unphased by how defeated your voice sounded.

Even though Michael would never admit to it, he always harboured a modest crush on you. He remembers the way you walked around the different Fresher events with such confidence, despite not knowing anyone prior to starting University. Eyes following your figure as you made the rounds before making your way to his table of one. That was when he messed up. Something about your presence made any semblance of a filter disappear, and the insults flew from his lips before he could bite the words down. All he could do was stare as that kind spark in your eyes faltered and you muttered a discouraged goodbye before walking away from his lonely table.

Since that day, he kept an eye out for you. Never once daring to speak again, but always glancing at your corner table during dinnertime just to catch a glimpse of that jubilant smile. Yes, he thought any subject outside of mathematics-based degrees were pointless to society. Although for some reason, he never wanted you to feel anything less for your choice of pathway. Everyone else on your course might be a half-wit, but not you. Never you.

Suddenly feeling sheepish, you make a move to pack away. “Oh, I apologise. Truthfully, I thought I was the only one who stayed back for Christmas break.”

Hand reaching across to grab the textbook currently resting before the boy, you were met halfway by a larger colder hand. “Don’t leave on my account, especially before I can explain to you the different applications of correlation matrixes.”

Rearranging the position of his chair to minimise the space between the both of you, as he fumbled through your plethora of mock questions and attempted answers. All whilst your mouth parted with puzzlement, leaving you to watch his movement with questioning eyes.

“Why in the world would you help me?”

“Figures it could balance out my karma for slagging your subject. Plus, I can’t sit here knowing you are desecrating maths and not intervene.”

And with the rippling sounds of the pages followed by the subtle knock of the textbook cover, the pair of you began an unlikely partnership.

Monday the 18th of December

The next seven days were spent in that secluded corner of the century-old building with Michael explaining statistical concepts in his velvety tones. At the start, he found it difficult to not mark his superiority or mock your questions that seemed elementary to him. Eventually, he grew to understand that you really did care about understanding the methods entirely, and that your questions spawned from craving knowledge rather than sheer stupidity. Awkward explanations turned into two-way conversations during study breaks, and silly jokes. If anyone were to enter the library, they would hear the duo of laughs ricochet off the walls of books. Perhaps they would think that two friends were sharing inside jokes, but if anyone saw the pair of you, they would see two fools infatuated with one another.

It was true, within the past week Michael’s crush only grew and you started to realise that Michael might be the unexpected highlight of university. Since Freshers, you felt drawn to him, and maybe at the start it was purely a physical attraction that was shut down by his mean-spirited comments. But this version of Michael, where he feels comfortable and lets down his arrogant guard, this is the boy that you wish you’d known from the beginning. Heart fluttering when he praises you, chest aching from giggles at his nerdy jokes, and fingertips lingering slightly too long on his veiny hand.

As the snow falls outside, the pair of you sat with only the sound of your nervous drumming and the scratch of Michael’s pen across your mock examination. Studying his side profile, getting lost in the way his lips purse with satisfaction when he ticks off a correct answer, if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was proud of you. Several moments trickled by in silence, waiting in anticipation to see whether the hours spent together had actually taught you anything. There was the unspoken discomfort of what happens next. If you had passed with flying colours, does that mean you and him go back to strangers? Could you pretend to be less than friends again with all these newfound feelings? Truthfully, part of you wished you failed so he would have to keep tutoring you.

“And you did it. Congratulations, you have officially conquered statistics.” Sliding across the paper marked 86% with a little smile into your expectant hands. Those stormy blues meeting yours to watch the excitement unfold.

“I did it? Oh my god, I did it!”

Waving the paper in the air before bringing it to your chest, eyes sparkling with happiness as the weight of failure floats off your shoulders. Michael could only match your exuberant smile, leaning his chiselled chin on the palm of his hand to watch the subject of his dreams glitter in front of him. He knew the doubts that clouded your judgement were bullshit. In his eyes you were almost as smart as him, only in a different way. Watching your seated celebrations as he commits the image to memory, with fear of today being the last day of closeness between you two. Michael half expected you to drop him after realising you understood the concepts. That you would finally recognise you are worth more than someone like him. Someone of a higher class, someone more muscular, someone who isn’t a social pariah.

Those thoughts were halted by the feel of your jumper-clad arms being thrown around his neck, drawing him close. Snapping out of his daydream just as you bridged the gap between your lush lips and his own. Michael felt you melt into him, arms softening in their hold but your lips still continuing the connection with passion. This kiss was all consuming, built up with each second of vulnerability shown throughout the moments together. He noted that you tasted like spearmint gum, and it perfectly complimented the constant chocolate that lurked on his tastebuds.

Somehow it felt like the pair of you were joined for eternity, feeling as if the cool of his lens would be ingrained on your skin. Reluctantly the two young students separated, faces flushed and chests heaving in a desperate attempt to fill your lungs. The realisation of your bold move flashed in your brain, panic arising in your stomach at all the possible scenarios that could happen next, but those fears settled as you saw the soft look hidden behind those glasses.

“Thank you, Michael. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“Well, it does help that I’m a mathematical genius. But truthfully, I’ve enjoyed teaching you and would happily continue our study sessions.” Despite his clear words, Michael was still recovering from the shockwaves in his body from the taste of you on his lips. Mentally he was cringing at his entirely unromantic words, but all you did was smile.

“As much as I would like that, I’d prefer if our relationship went beyond studying? Perhaps we could go for a celebratory pint or get dinner together.” Awkwardly twiddling the hem of his sweater between your fingertips as you avoided his eyeline. “You know, like a date? Only if you would be happy with that, of course.”

“I’ve come to realise that if I was a correlation matrix, and you’d be the variable that’s highly correlated with my happiness. So yes, I’d love to take YOU on a date”

Laughter erupted in your belly at his cheesy line, and he fought the urge to pull in for another kiss. Instead, he chose to intertwine your warm hands with his. “A genius, a gentleman, a teacher, and now a comedian? You, Michael Gavey, are an adventure I can’t wait to explore.”

[still-a-morosexual-help]

God, this man has the absolute worst case of nostalgia based rose tinted glasses

In nightbringer itself Asmo says the day before they Fell he was hiding from Raphael for messing with him/pissing him off

All of Lucifer's siblings (minus Levi, as far as we know) were frequently sneaking into the human world while they were actively at war with the Devildom and while it was forbidden to interact with humans

Mammon used the angels as his own giant chess set????

Mammon used to sneak into the human world to collect pigeon feathers and sell them to angels by saying they were Raphael's feathers, which is hilarious but is also A FUCKING SCAM THAT CURRENT MAMMON WOULD ABSOLUTELY PULL

The others actually thought Mammon would Fall long before he did because he was such a shit head

Asmo used to have his Asmo parties or Asmo nights or whatever up in the Celestial Realm despite Raphael saying parties are bad (I feel like the actual word he used was "immoral"? )

Asmo used to sneak into the human world to go partying with humans

It is heavily implied in s3 that asmo was fucking & sucking his way through the celestial realm (good for him btw get those sticks outta the angels' asses babe i believe in you <3 )

The twins and Lilith used to frequently sneak into the human world

Lilith started a whole ass relationship with a human and lied her ass off about it so that she could keep it secret

Lilith compared Michael to a jellyfish???? the first time she met him and that pissed him off

Lilith held a hell of a grudge

Belphie used to skip work so he could go nap

The brothers, as a team, used to catch frogs, cut holes in books, put the frogs into them and wait for Raphael to open them

The brothers, as a team, used to dig pits in the ground and cover them up so that other angels would fall into them (at least the frog thing was kinda funny this is just them being straight up dicks)

Raphael was constantly chasing them around with his spears and getting on Lucifer's ass about them because of how troublesome they were

S4 implies that the reason the brothers' pranks are more refined as demons, compared to when they were angels, is because they now have Satan

So yeah, they were always asses

But even if there is some truth in what Lucifer said about them being kind & sincere (and honestly, there is. We've seen more than enough evidence of it in the events, devilgrams, chats & s1-4) :

Levi says he was depressed in the Celestial Realm and felt like he didn't fit in.

Both Mammon & Beel didn't fit in until Lucifer found them.

Lilith definitely didn't feel like she fit in.

Lucifer, as a demon, says he'll never want to go back. Talking with Diavolo as an angel made him lose a little faith in the Celestial Realm. His greatest fear is possibly his father. Even before they Fell something in the Celestial Realm was pissing him off so much that he managed to spawn a whole other conscious life form - Satan says he gained his own consciousness even before Asmo was created meaning that anger had been festering for a long time.

As far as we know Asmo & Belphie were the only ones who were genuinely happy throughout their entire time in the Celestial Realm (and I think once Asmo gets used to his demon form he'll appreciate the freedom in the devildom over the strictness of the celestial realm)

Mammon, in Nightbringer, says that they know there's no real difference between being an angel or a demon and that they're all just labels.

Whatever sincerity and kindness they, may or may not have, had in the Celestial Realm wasn't because they were angels. Or because of the Celestial Realm.

It was in spite of all that.

It was just what they are like as people.

And of course that sincerity and kindness aren't gonna shine through right after a horribly traumatic event that killed their sister and permanently changed their bodies. And due to such an event & their Sins becoming more...more, they'll obviously be different and treat each other differently as demons.

But at the end of the day they are good, kind people, even as demons.

Like we've seen that.