#reblog by shaking off satan

[fanficsat12am]

when the brothers realize how much MC loves them I Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus

📜 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃!! ��

Lucifer & Mammon

Happy New Year everyone!! Hope ya guys had a great flippin holiday time :> As always, notes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated <33 Have fun reading!!

Leviathan

Putting himself down was second nature to him at this point—sometimes he didn’t even realize he was doing it. It especially got even worse after getting into a relationship with you. His mind refused to believe that anyone could ever love someone like him. 

Levi dreaded the day you’d finally see what he sees and ultimately decide to leave, but he wouldn't hold it against you. Why would you settle for someone like him when there were countless others in the three realms who could give you so much more…

“Hey, you okay?” you asked worriedly, noticing his glazed look and how his eyes had dimmed. “O-of course I’m fine! Pft, why would I be lol,” he stumbles out, trying to keep up his facade—but of course, you saw through it. 

As he tries to get back to his game he can feel your eyes piercing him. 

“I’m going to ask you how you are one more time and I would like you to answer me honestly,” gently taking the controller in his hands from him and placing it aside. “Now tell me, what’s up?”

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, the words not too foreign to his tongue. 

“If this is about last week I've already told yo-” “Ugh, that’s not what I meant…” he cuts you off, trying to find the right words. 

“I-it’s just…you could have had ANYBODY else, but instead you’re stuck with me. I can’t 1v1 Beel's body, Diavolo’s money, Asmo’s looks- heck even stupid Mammon’s got charm! I'm just Levi, the plain old third-born…” he bites his lip, trying to keep his tears at bay. His efforts proved futile as he felt its warm trickle slowly dripping down his face, one after the other.

A part of him wanted to take back everything he just said—to restart and pick a different approach. But this wasn’t another one of his games. This was real life, and in here you've only got one shot. It was game over, he knew he had lost. 

He shut his eyes tight, listening closely for the sound of you finally walking out those doors. He couldn't bear to watch you leave him. 

You shake your head at the absurdity of his words, cupping his face into your hand. “I’m not stuck with you, silly. I choose to be here.”

Opening his eyes back again he's met with you smiling at him, the sight making his heart skip a beat. 

“I’m here because I can’t get enough of you. I love how your cheeks would go red when I catch you staring at me,” you say, leaning closer and leaving a kiss on his cheek. 

“How your brows would furrow and your eyes would squint whenever you’re focused on your game,” sending a kiss by the bridge of his nose. 

You gently grab his wrist and fumble on the soft skin of his palms with the pads of your thumb. “How you’d start gesturing with your hands a lot when you talk about the latest anime you’re into,” you reminisce, another kiss now to the back of his hand. 

“How right before you fall asleep, you hold me closer and whisper to the dead of the night how much you love me,” you say as you end it with a tender kiss to his lips. 

“And each day I find myself falling for you even more. They could try to give me the whole world, but they’ll never be you. So please, stop thinking you need to earn my affection because you don't. Not now and not ever.” 

You lift his face up to meet your gaze, looking at him as if you see right through him. “There is nothing I would change about you. You are perfect in my eyes.”

He felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest. He was left speechless, his mind going haywire with everything you had just said. 

Seeing how his brain had completely stopped working, he let his body do all the talking instead. He wordlessly wrapped you in a tight embrace, cherishing the warmth of your body against his. 

The bitter taste of the sin he was meant to represent felt absent. Levi sensed no need to be envious of others when he had someone like you to call his.

Satan

Not once had he let himself think that he could indulge himself in something such as love—for wrath did not deserve the peace of love. While love held everything together in its warm embrace, wrath tirelessly tore with its cold unforgiving hands. 

Despite their differences, there was no denying that both were blind. Just like a moth, you were entranced by the beautiful embers of his flame, blissfully indifferent to the heat. 

He stared at his reflection with disdain. The obsidian black horns adorning his head felt heavier the longer he looked, not to mention the tail that whipped mindlessly on its own. He gritted his teeth in disgust, delivering a blow to the mirror that sent it hurdling to the ground. Through his ragged breaths and the rapid beating of his heart, he hears a voice not of his own. 

"Satan?" you called, breaking him from his trance-like state. You softly closed his door behind you, hands outstretched and unsteady. 

With each step you took, he took two back—his mind screaming at him to stay away from you but his heart yearning to leap into your hold. 

"Hey, it's okay," you reassured, taking a step towards him. 

"No it's not!" he screams, backing away from your approaching form. 

Hearing the crunch of glass under the weight of his shoes, he takes notice of the mirror he broke just moments ago. Reflected on its cracked surface was a distorted image of him; a monster.

"Please, let me help," you pleaded, trying to close the gap between you. He hastily steps back, tripping on his own feet and leaving him a heap on the floor. 

"Don't come any closer!" he screams, the room shaking with the sheer volume of his voice. You kneel to his level, quickly engulfing him in your arms. 

‘Run. He doesn't deserve you. Just stay away.’ He repeated in his head like a silent prayer, hoping that by some miracle it would come true. 

But as he felt you hold him tighter, he knew you would do nothing of the sort. As he trembled in your arms, he wills himself to ask the question that had been plaguing his mind since the day you'd started dating. 

"Why?" he whispered softly, almost inaudible if not for the heavy silence of the night. "I could lose control. Why do you insist on staying? To even consider feeling anything for a monster such as myself is just…foolish."

You think about your answer carefully, knowing that what you say next will mend or break the man in your hold. "Loving someone takes courage. To trust someone with your heart and believe they would keep it safe. Keep you safe. Let the three realms call me foolish but there's no doubt in my mind that I love you, Satan. Not the Avatar of Wrath, you Satan,'' you answer truthfully, pouring every ounce of your heart into each word.  

Gently taking hold of his chin, you tilt his head up to meet your eyes. "Tell me now Satan, will you hurt me?" you ask, the demon shaking his head immediately. He wouldn't dream of ever wishing to cause harm to you. He would die first before anybody, let alone himself, hurt you. 

"Then it is not foolish of me to love you" you say, your words unfaltering. 

Tears welled in his eyes, accepting defeat at the hands of your love and melting deeper into your embrace. As he lays on your chest, he turns to face where your heart would be and whispers an oath. "I love you, MC. I shall protect you with my life" he vows, sealing his promise with a kiss.

Asmodeus

As the Avatar of Lust and the Jewel of the Heavens, he was always the talk of the town. You, on the other hand, weren’t too familiar with the gossip world. Although you knew that was going to change once you officially became a couple. 

You took no mind to it, brushing them off with a small wave knowing that the wrong move could only add more oil to their flame. But Asmo wasn’t like you. He could feel all the looks they gave him, the incessant whispers and murmurs whenever he’d turn his back. 

He typically had no care for whatever lies people have heard about him. The same could not be said though when they had the audacity to include you into the mix. It was slowly chewing away at him and he couldn’t deny the pit of doubt slowly churning inside him.

“I saw MC out with one of the brothers last week. They’ve been getting closer recently. I wonder what happened between them"

"I saw them leaving school with Simeon yesterday, I’m surprised that’d cheat on Asmo with someone like him” 

”They’ve got the most powerful people of the Devildom wrapped around their finger and they’re still with Asmo? Damn”

The final blow was realizing that everything was better without him in the picture. Your smile wasn't just bright, it was brighter, you weren't just happy, you were happier. 

He slams his door shut, sliding down the wooden surface as he feels his legs give underneath him.

‘Can’t you see? They were never the problem. No matter what you do, you could never satisfy them. Once again you've proved to be useless.’

‘You think they’d just be swayed by your face? By the number of followers you have? Underneath it all you're nothing. It's just pathetic.’

He shook his head, gripping and pulling on his delicate sand blonde hair. No matter how hard he cupped his hands over his ears, their words never ceased. His eyes pricked with tears, months of silent torture finally finding his moment of weakness.  

You on the other hand were beyond worried. You were no stranger to Asmo’s flamboyant walk outs but this was different. As you neared the door to his room, you could hear silent sobs and cries on the other side. Knocking softly, you worriedly call out to him.

“Asmo?” The sobbing stops, rendering the halls eerily silent. “Darling, what’s wrong? Can I come in?” Still no response. 

Asmo freezes at the sound of your voice, the loud thumping of his heart drowning out the constant knocking on his door. An internal conflict rages within him. Not only is the person causing all this mess of emotions on the other side of the door, but the only one who can make it all go away as well. 

“Please talk to me. I need to know that you’re alright.” Just as you’re deciding if you should get some help from the others, the door opens. From it, a hand grabs your wrist, swiftly pulling you inside and closing the door. 

Looking around, the usually bright and pinkish room was cold and dark. You could barely see anything with the only light coming from his window. 

The crisp silence of the night was cut by the uneven breathing of Asmo who was still by the door. You reach out to gently place a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sweetie?” you call, fingertips only a few milliliters away, when his voice stops you in your tracks. 

“Do you love me?” he whispers. 

“Of course I do,” you answer immediately, not missing a beat. 

You gently grab him by the shoulder and turn him to face you, your heart breaking at the sight of your lover being in so much turmoil. 

“Oh, Asmo…” your hand tenderly holds his cheek, the other wiping away the tears that have yet to cease from falling. 

“Each day, I hear another rumor about you finding somebody else…” he pauses, taking a deep shuddering breath. “If you’re going to do it, please just do it already and save me the mascara.”

He knows that watching you leave will hurt more than any hangover can ever do to him. It would be like he was falling from the pristine white gates of Celestia again, powerless as he saw all he held dear fade into a memory of what he had once had.

He could try to convince himself that the rumors were true. That you were only ever with him for his fame and looks and that he never cared about you. But of all the lies that have circulated, that would have been the biggest one.

“Honey, I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever,” you say as you tuck a lock behind his ear. “If you think I’d ever love someone after you then I have failed in showing you how much you mean to me.”

Through blurred vision, Asmo tries to find an ounce of deceit within the windows to your soul; a malicious grin, a break in eye contact, a drop of sweat. Nothing. 

He lets out a shuddering breath he didn’t know he was holding, pressing his soft hands upon your own and interlacing it with his. It was stupid of him to ever doubt your feelings for him. To hell with what they thought of the both of you. All he cared about now was now, being here in your hold, forever.

“You’re so cute sometimes, darling…" he whispers in amusement, a small smile finally making its way onto his lips. 

“Please tell me I still look fabulous even after all that tears. Ugh, my eyes are gonna be so puffed up tomorrow!” 

You chuckle at his comment, happy to see him start coming back to you. “Still ever so stunning, My Prince.”

“Let’s stay like this for just a bit more, hm? All this crying made me tired. Then after, we can run a nice warm bath for the two of us. Doesn't that sound wonderful?” He murmured, melting more into your touch.  

“Whatever you’d like, darling,” you replied, pressing your forehead to his. 

And there you stayed, forehead to forehead, hands intertwined, just you and him in the comfort of each other's touch.

AN: Thanks a bunch for reading!! Would love to hear your thoughts in the comments <33

[little-diable]

"Angel" He calls me – Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

Listen, this is fucked up – even I was unsure where this came from. But I ain't sorry for it, I know y'all will love this, you filthy heathen (i love you). Shamelessly inspired by the song "The Fruits" by Paris Paloma. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Her mother accuses the reader of preparing a satanic ritual, so she hopes that Priest Riddle can free the young girl from the devil's grasp. What a shame that the young priest is even more cunning than the Devil himself.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, smut in a church, heavy dub!con, choking, wax play, blood play, Tom being Tom, religious connotations

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (about 2k words)

My love, are you the devil? I would worship you instead of him, I have no time for confession, for I'm too busy committing sins

“Priest Riddle!” Her mother’s shrill voice echoed through the empty church, repeated with every further step she took. (Y/n) struggled against her mother’s grasp, feet dragged along the cold ground as if she prayed that the floor would open up, that something or someone would crawl from the eternal darkness to hold onto her, rescue her from the hell she would experience any moment now. “Priest Riddle!”

The tall man appeared after another loud call of his name, concern tugged on his features, a facade her mother instantly seemed to buy into; a facade (y/n) instantly saw through. Priest Riddle was a devilish handsome man, a man so handsome he easily fooled those who clung to him, distracting them from his sinful character. 

“Mathilda, (y/n), what is going on?” His bright eyes carried concern as he looked at (y/n)’s mother, concern that changed into something dark the second his gaze found (y/n)’s. Her mother’s torture was nothing against what he’d do to her, that much she was certain of after all those confessions she had been forced through – confessions that had ended with her knees having a carpet burn, with her ass bruised, and her jaw pulsing in pain from being stretched open. 

“She’s gone insane, I’ve found her worshipping the devil! He has his dark grasp on her, oh you have to free my girl, you’re my only chance of finding help for her sinning soul, Father!” Tears dripped from her mother’s eyes, tears (y/n) silently cursed. She had done no such thing, all she had done was read a book Priest Riddle had borrowed her, one of the few interests both shared – Latin prayers her mother had mistaken for satanic rituals as (y/n) had tried to pronounce the words. 

For a second, he studied (y/n), the annoyance she couldn’t shake, the wide pupils he had grown all too used to, feeling his cock twitch in his trousers at the excitement now thumping through his veins. “Leave her with me, Mathilda. She’s in good hands. I’ll take care of our girl.”

"Angel“ he calls me, does he know that I'm falling from a precipice that I tripped off long ago?

“Rituals, huh?” Her mother had left the church seconds ago, leaving the two of them behind. (Y/n)’s skin prickled, she was fighting against the need to scream, to throw a tantrum against her mother’s foolish behaviour. All because of him. 

“This is your fault! She heard me read that prayer book of yours.” Within seconds he stood in front of her, ringed hand wrapped around her throat. Her heart was pounding, blood rushing through her veins, he could feel (y/n)’s fast pulse against his fingertips, a sensation that left the man smirking. 

“My fault?” The way he spoke the words, with a voice so raspy and deep, (y/n) didn’t manage to stop her body from reacting, her thighs from trembling and her walls from clenching around nothing. For a few moments, neither of them spoke, all they did was stare at one another. “My fault, really, (y/n)?”

“I,” her words got stuck in her throat as he squeezed, cutting off her strength to pronounce any words. Priest Riddle always enjoyed silencing her, showing her how much power he held over her. (Y/n) was shoved backwards as he let go of her, watching her fall onto the stone stairs leading up to the altar. 

“You see, (y/n), your mother may think I’m the saving grace, the voice of reason, but I think you know better, don’t you? There is no saving left for you, no grace I can give you. The Devil would have tried to save you, what a shame that I’m not him.” Angry tears welled up in her eyes, tears that began to drip as a laugh clawed through him. There was no escaping him, no matter how much her mind begged her to run, to never return to these unholy walls, her body craved his touch, desperate for everything he could offer. 

“Undress, lay down on the altar, for me.” It took (y/n) a second to snap into motion, to undo the buttons of her dress with shaky fingers. Not once did her glassy eyes leave his frame, not as she stood naked, not as she slowly heaved herself onto the altar, not as she watched him alight the red candle placed next to the Holy Bible.

“Do you remember what John teaches us, (y/n)? He tells us: Whoever makes a practice of sinning is of the devil, for the devil has been sinning from the beginning. But tonight you will sin, tonight you will offer yourself to the devil, even though he will never have you. He fears me, and he will fear my precious toy once I’m done with you.”

“In nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.” He was standing behind the altar, with his ringed fingers holding onto the burned candle. (Y/n) was forced to watch him tilt the candle, letting the wax drip down onto the valley between her naked breasts. She hissed at the sensation, torn between excitement and fear, and yet she craved more. 

“Princeps gloriosissime caelestis militiae, sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio adversus principes et potestates, adversus mundi rectores tenebrarum harum, contra spiritalia nequitiae, in caelestibus.” Priest Riddle’s voice didn’t carry any emotion as he spoke the lines of the prayer to Saint Michael, a prayer used in exorcisms, a prayer he used to mock her now. The candle kept dripping, one by one the drops of wax marked her body, leaving (y/n) moaning as his cold hand joined the wax, touching her hardening nipples with a smirk growing on his lips. 

“Veni in auxilium hominum, quos Deus ad imaginem similitudinis suae fecit, et a tyrannide diaboli emit pretio magno. Te custodem et patronum sancta veneratur Ecclesia; tibi tradidit Dominus animas redemptorum in superna felicitate locandas.” No longer did (y/n) try to keep her moans bottled in, she arched her back off the altar as he added more strength to his touch, tweaking her nipples as the wax dripped onto her stomach. It felt as if he was making an offering, sacrificing (y/n) for the sins they had committed together, giving her up for his eternal salvation. 

“Deprecare Deum pacis, ut conterat Satanam sub pedibus nostris, ne ultra valeat captivos tenere homines, et Ecclesiae nocere. Offer nostras preces in conspectu Altissimi, ut cito anticipent nos misericordiae Domini, et apprehendas draconem, serpentem antiquum, qui est diabolus et Satanas, et ligatum mittas in abyssum, ut non seducat amplius gentes. Amen.” The last drop of wax fell as Priest Riddle ended the prayer, tossing the blown-out candle aside to press his lips against (y/n)’s. Both moaned in unison as her fingers began to work on his belt, needing to free his cock with the silent hope that he’d fuck her on the altar spurring her on. 

He twitched in her grasp, a sensation so familiar, she found herself relaxing, giving her mind a few seconds to relax. Seconds he used to study her with danger laced in his gaze, danger that deepened as her eyes were drawn to his throat, watching him rip his silvery necklace from his neck. The necklace twinkled in the dim light, momentarily entrancing (y/n) as if she was studying a rare gem, an offering only God would make. 

“We have been bound together for months, you are my possession, and you will do as I say, you will let me lead you till I no longer think you’re worthy of my time.” He tightened his grasp on his necklace, and without another warning, he ran the sharp edge of the cross along his skin, instantly drawing blood. Blood so red, it looked like sacred wine, richer than Jesus’ blood, more powerful than any other offering.

He wiped his bleeding thumb along her lips, letting her taste the copper staining her skin like a tattoo made for eternity. They held eye contact as she parted her lips, letting her tongue lick his skin clean, unable to stop her moan from clawing out of her. She was nothing but a toy, someone he used to pass time with, someone to fuck whenever his body called for excitement – and she loved it, every fucked up second of their time together. 

Priest Riddle let go of her to position himself between her thighs, his fingertips dug into her skin as he wrapped her legs around his waist. Soon he’d fuck her, soon he’d remind her that she was his – his only. 

You're faithless, for you pitched me, against your holy father and it seems that I am winning

Without giving (y/n) any chance to prepare herself, he pushed into her, forcing his cock into her tightness. Her arousal allowed him to move without any struggles, moving as if their bodies had been made for one another. In some fucked up way she could have found something romantic in this, claimed in a church for all holy and unholy eyes to see, but the darkness he emanated was enough to keep her from thinking these thoughts. 

Months ago when this had happened for the first time, (y/n) had been frightened, not knowing what the man would do to her. But after the first of many orgasms had wrecked through her, she had felt like Judas, the backstabber, the liar she had been turned into. No longer held back by the fear of sinning, rather giving in – all for the promise of being punished by Priest Riddle. 

“Even the devil wouldn’t take you in, a soul filled with sins that even He would turn his back on. I’m your only rescue.” He panted his words as he buried himself deep inside of her, eyes staring down at her. Without stopping his movements, his hips from snapping against hers, he pushed the cross past her lips, forcing her to hold it between her teeth. (Y/n) could still taste his blood – heightening her senses as her walls fluttered around him. 

She hated herself for enjoying this, for being at his mercy with her legs spread and her back arched. He only spoke the truth, he was her only chance of guidance, the only one to cling to as the others had left her behind, engulfed in darkness. Her saving grace, the poison she was addicted to, the bruising grasp she couldn’t shake. 

“Cum for me, show them that there is no chance of rescuing you from me.” With the cross held between her teeth, she moaned for him. (Y/n)’s orgasm wrecked through her, leaving her shaking and panting beneath him. But the priest kept moving, searching his own high with his fingertips digging into her skin. 

A heavy moan rumbled through Priest Riddle as he came, imprinting himself on her walls without giving her a warning. Once again marked by the man who called her his own property, once again marked by the devil’s most brutal brother. 

“I need you on your knees, it’s time to beg for His forgiveness, (y/n).” 

……

Translation of the Latin prayer: 

St. Michael the Archangel, illustrious leader of the heavenly army, defend us in the battle against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the world of darkness and the spirit of wickedness in high places.

Come to the rescue of mankind, whom God has made in His own image and likeness, and purchased from Satan's tyranny at so great a price.

Holy Church venerates you as her patron and guardian. The Lord has entrusted to you the task of leading the souls of the redeemed to heavenly blessedness.

Entreat the Lord of peace to cast Satan down under our feet, so as to keep him from further holding man captive and doing harm to the Church.

Carry our prayers up to God's throne, that the mercy of the Lord may quickly come and lay hold of the beast, the serpent of old, Satan and his demons, casting him in chains into the abyss, so that he can no longer seduce the nations. Amen.

[riboism]

haunted ═╬ act IV: the cat

♱ content tags: centuries old vampire! seonghwa x fem reader, vampire au, gothic romance, gothic horror, story takes place circa early 1900s, reincarnation, smut, angst, forbidden love, slowburn, lots of yearning, no happy ending, blood, satanism, animal cruelty, nosferatu/bram stroker’s dracula/edward scissorhands vibes

♱ a/n: sorry for being late with an update (depression sucks lol). I’ll try to be more consistent with the remaining parts. as always, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated.

♱ wordcount: 2.7k

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The rest of the morning felt off, as if your reality had begun to blur at the edges. Every time you wandered through the estate’s dimly lit hallways, the creak of the old wooden floors sent a strange sense of familiarity crawling up your spine. It was maddening, like the walls were whispering to you in a language you almost understood, their voices just out of reach.

You couldn't take it anymore. The strangeness of the Count, the mysteriousness of the estate, and the dreams—God, the dreams—had become too much to ignore. There had to be answers somewhere. Without another thought, you grabbed your winter coat and strode down to town, determined to find them.

By the time you reached the bank, you were breathless from the steep steps leading up to its grand entrance. Steadying yourself, you approached the front desk, where the same bank teller from before sat, her glasses perched low on her nose as she sorted through a stack of papers.

"Is Mr. Kang available?" you asked, still catching your breath.

She didn’t bother looking up. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Uh, no, but—"

"Mr. Kang is only available by appointment," she cut in flatly, flipping another page.

You clenched your fists, willing yourself to remain composed. "Please, it’s urgent. I don’t mind waiting."

This time, she lifted her gaze just enough to regard you with practiced indifference. "I’m sorry, but unless you have an appointment, I cannot help you."

Frustration simmered in your chest as you turned on your heel, ready to leave in defeat, until a familiar voice called out behind you.

"Miss Y/L/N!"

Relief flooded through you as you turned to see Mr. Kang hurrying toward you, his ever-present smile wide and warm. "I knew that was you! What brings you here?"

His friendliness was like a breath of fresh air. In a town like this, it felt good to have even the semblance of a friend. You smiled, grateful. "Good afternoon, Mr. Kang. Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about something."

"Of course," he said smoothly, placing a guiding hand on the small of your back as he led you toward his office. "Anything for a friend of a friend. I have a few minutes before my next meeting."

You cast a smug glance at the receptionist as you passed, satisfied with your small victory.

Once settled in Mr. Kang’s office, your eyes were immediately drawn to the painting you had delivered just days ago, now proudly displayed on the wall.

"Really livens up the place, doesn’t it?" he mused, following your gaze.

You nodded absently before shifting in your seat, sitting up straighter. "Actually, Mr. Kang, I came to ask about my employer."

Yeosang leaned forward slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Oh? Is this about his account? If so, I’m afraid I can’t discuss financial matters without his presence."

"No, no, it’s not that," you said quickly, hesitating as you tried to find the right words. Now that you were here, you realized you hadn’t exactly planned how to phrase your concerns without sounding ridiculous. "It’s more… personal. I suppose I’m just curious about his background. He’s very private, as you know, and since I’m living under the same roof as him, I just—well, I guess I’d like to be sure I’m not in any…"

"Danger?" Mr. Kang supplied, raising a brow.

The word felt too strong—maybe even rude—but you didn’t know how else to put it. After a beat, you gave a small nod.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I understand your concern. I was worried the townspeople’s gossip might be getting to you. But I can assure you, Count Park is a good man."

Somehow, that wasn’t as reassuring as he probably intended.

"That said," he continued, "if you're looking for more information about him, I’m afraid I’ve already told you everything I know. Your best bet would be the town registry. They may have more records on his estate and lineage."

The town registry. The thought hadn’t occurred to you before, but now that he’d mentioned it, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something important could be waiting for you there.

After thanking Mr. Kang for his time, you set off toward the other side of town in search of the Town Clerk’s office. It was a bit of a trek for your tired feet, but your curiosity urged you forward. You weren’t even sure what you were expecting to find. Mr. Kang was right—Count Park was strange, yes, his habits somewhat odd, but he had never been unkind. He had done nothing to warrant this growing unease that had settled in your chest. And yet… something wasn’t right. You couldn’t shake the feeling, nor could you bring yourself to sleep another night in that castle without at least trying to uncover the truth.

The Town Clerk’s office was an old, run-down building. The doors barely held together, their hinges rusted and weak, and thick cobwebs clung to the corners of the entryway. The wooden floorboards groaned beneath your hesitant steps, kicking up the scent of dust and decay. The air was stale, tinged with something unpleasant. Behind the counter stood an older man, his posture slouched with the same disinterest you had received from the woman at the bank. He barely looked up as you approached.

"Hello," you greeted, keeping your voice low. "I’m here on behalf of… Count Park Seonghwa."

At the mention of his name, the man’s gaze snapped toward you.

"He’s my cousin," you lied, forcing a nervous chuckle. "He asked me to come down and request a copy of his records, as he’s thinking of moving soon. You see, he’s been quite sick and—"

The clerk didn’t seem to care for your fabricated sob story. Without a word, he turned around and pulled out a long, rickety drawer, his fingers skimming over aged documents. After a brief pause, he retrieved a worn file and handed it to you without so much as a glance.

"Thank you," you mumbled, taking the file gingerly. You wasted no time tucking it into your shopping bag. The sun was beginning to set, casting an eerie golden glow over the town, so you stepped back outside, eager to return to the castle before nightfall.

As you walked back up the path, something felt… off. The air had changed, thick with something heavy and foreboding. An unsettling silence blanketed the town, save for the distant murmurs of people gathered in small clusters. Their faces were drawn and grave, their voices tinged with fear and anger. As you drew closer, you noticed more dead cows strewn along the dirt roads, their bodies limp and lifeless, eyes wide open. The scent of rot and blood stung your nose.

People were no longer merely mourning their losses—they were furious.

"That bastard! First my sheep, now my cows—someone’s doing this on purpose!"

"You think I had anything to do with this? You’re out of your mind!"

"All of us are suffering! God has abandoned us! First the cattle, then who’s to say our crops next?"

"You heard the stories! It’s the devil’s work! I told you he was cursed!"

Their voices rose in hysteria, their rage spilling over into accusations hurled at one another. Some men had begun shoving, women whispering behind their hands, their eyes darting toward the looming silhouette of the Count’s estate in the distance.

A cold dread seeped into your bones. The shift in the air wasn’t just in your mind. Something was happening. The people were on edge, their patience worn thin. It didn’t take much to see where their anger was beginning to turn.

Your pulse quickened, panic setting in. You had to leave before anyone noticed you lingering. Pulling your coat tighter around you, you hurried up the path, your boots crunching against the gravel as you retreated toward the castle.

⸺

You busied yourself in the kitchen, hoping the rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the simmering pot on the stove would distract you from the unsettling events of the day. But your mind kept drifting—to the townspeople, their anger, the lifeless cattle, and most of all, the Count.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. You turned, surprised to see him standing in the doorway, dressed immaculately as always, as if the night before had never happened. He looked almost… untouched, unaffected.

You studied him carefully, searching for any sign of weakness, any lingering trace of last night’s affliction. But there was none. His complexion was as perfect as ever, his posture poised, his expression neutral. If anything, he seemed even more put together than usual, as if whatever had weakened him had vanished without a trace.

"Good evening," he greeted, sounding well-rested, as if the last twenty-four hours had been nothing but a dream.

You hesitated before responding, gripping the wooden spoon in your hand a little tighter. "Good evening, Count." You swallowed, forcing your tone to remain casual. "How are you feeling?"

He tilted his head slightly, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "Why do you ask?"

You faltered. He was toying with you. "Well," you began carefully, "you were quite ill last night. I was worried."

"I was?" He stepped further into the kitchen, trailing his gloved fingers over the edge of the counter as he studied the meal you were preparing.

"You were coughing up blood," you pressed, watching his face closely. "You collapsed."

He leaned against the counter, as if trying to remember. "Ah yes…That must have been troubling for you."

Your lips parted in disbelief. What kind of response was that?

"It was more than troubling," you snapped, frustration seeping into your voice. "You nearly collapsed in my arms. I stayed with you the entire night, worried you wouldn't wake up."

His eyes softened, but not in the way you'd expected. It wasn’t gratitude, nor regret. It was something else—something knowing.

"And yet, here I am," he said smoothly. "Alive and well."

You narrowed your eyes. What was he doing? Why was he acting like this? Was he trying to play it off that nothing had happened last night, that somehow you were the delusional one? "That doesn't explain anything."

He sighed as if indulging a particularly stubborn child, then turned his gaze to the pot simmering on the stove. "What are you making?"

You scoffed, incredulous at the way he was so effortlessly dodging the conversation. "Clam chowder," you muttered, stirring the pot with a little more force than necessary.

"Smells lovely," he murmured, though his interest seemed distant. He looked at you then, his gaze lingering just a moment too long before he spoke again. "Thank you for your concern."

It was dismissive. A conversation-ender. And you hated it.

But more than anything, you hated how much he unsettled you. Because despite his feigned nonchalance, despite the way he refused to acknowledge what had happened… you knew he was hiding something. And you were going to find out what. 

⸺

As soon as you finished your nightly duties, you retreated to your room, locking the door behind you. Your body was exhausted, but your mind refused to rest. The weight of the documents in your lap felt heavier than paper should, as if they carried a truth too burdensome to bear.

You lit a candle, its flickering light barely illuminating the delicate, crumbling pages. The handwriting was difficult to decipher, the ink faded and the style archaic. You squinted, running your fingers over the words, tracing the loops and sharp angles in an attempt to piece together a story lost to time.

And then you saw it.

Park Seonghwa.

Your breath hitched. It was his name—unmistakably his, written in elegant script. You frowned, flipping through the pages, your heart pounding faster with every word you managed to make out. It was a marriage certificate.

This Certifies that Count Park Seonghwa & Lady Alya Were United In Marriage on the Seventh Day of June in the Year 1836. 

Your breath grew shallow. Eighty years ago. That was impossible. The Count was so young. He couldn’t have been married eighty years ago. He couldn’t have been alive eighty years ago, not looking the way he did now.

Your hands shook as you turned another page. There was no birth record for him, nothing to confirm when or where he had come into existence. It was as if he had simply appeared one day. You turned a few more pages, until you stumbled upon another document: 

Deed of Land. Let all men know and understand that as of the Third of February in the year 1621, Count Park Seonghwa is the true and original land owner of this following parcel: Lot 1117. The Interior of this land belongs to, and is under the control of Count Park Seonghwa. In the event of his passing, all rights and ownership herein shall be bestowed upon his lawful spouse, the Countess Ha-Rin.

None of what you read made any sense. You wondered if the ink had faded with time or if your weary eyes were simply deceiving you. Yet, no matter how many times you reread the words, the documents remained clear, official, and indisputable. A deep unease settled in your chest as you traced the elegant, aged script with your fingertips.

Just then, a brittle newspaper clipping slipped from the stack, fluttering to the floor. You leaned down, picking it up with trembling hands. The paper was fragile beneath your touch, its edges yellowed with time. Squinting, you carefully deciphered the small, faded text, your breath hitching as the words sank in.

A cold shiver ran down your spine as you read the details. It was about the fire. The west wing of the estate had burned to the ground, the family suffering one casualty. Lady Alya was 68 when she died. But as you scoured the pages for more, for proof, for confirmation, there was none. No death certificate. No record of her remains. Nothing.

You swallowed thickly, your fingers clamming as you reached the last document in the stack. It was a photograph, old and wrinkled. You brought it closer to the candlelight, and your breath left you in a sharp gasp.

It was her.

The old woman from your dream. The same hauntingly familiar face. The soft curve of her lips, the gentle slope of her nose, the sorrow lingering in her eyes—eyes that mirrored your own.

Your hands grew clammy, and the paper slipped slightly from your grasp. How was this possible?

The air in your room felt suddenly thick and suffocating. The candle flickered violently as a sudden gust of wind rattled the windowpane. And then—

Thump.

It came from outside. A strange shuffling, wet and guttural.

You hesitated, Count Park’s words echoing in your mind, his warning to never go outside at night. But your curiosity, your fear, your need to understand, overpowered your reason.

Slowly, you reached for your coat, draping it over your shoulders before stepping toward the door. You moved carefully down the hall, the manor eerily silent, save for the howling wind beyond the walls.

You stepped outside the castle. The night was colder than usual, the wind sharp against your skin. The moon cast a dim glow over the grounds, stretching shadows across the frost-covered earth. Your breath came out in quiet puffs as you followed the sound, your feet crunching softly against the gravel.

Then you saw it, the origin of the sound.

It was a dark figure crouched over something in the grass, its shoulders rising and falling with each grotesque movement. There was a sickening squelch, a wet tearing noise that filled the air. You felt your stomach churn as you took another step closer, a sudden crunch of the autumn leaves giving away your presence.

The figure’s head snapped up.

Your heart stopped.

It was him.

The Count.

But he wasn’t the man you knew.

His lips were stained red, fresh blood dripping from his chin. His eyes, normally dark and heavy, were an inhuman shade of crimson, glowing like embers in the night. His fangs, long and glistening, protruded from his parted lips. And in his grasp, limp and lifeless, was the body of a cat, its black fur matted with blood.

A choked gasp left your throat.

Count Park froze, his expression undecipherable, though something flickered in his monstrous gaze—something almost like regret.

But it was too late.

Your vision blurred. Your head spun.

And then, the darkness took you.

taglist: @a1sh1teruu @filmnings @professormingisglasses @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @yunyunrin-reads @seonghwasstar @innocygnet @oreoqueen

for taglist request or removal, please send me an ask

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt 44

part 1 | part 43 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking

“You’re just…” Robin looks at him sideways, her face doing something quivery and weird that he’s pretty sure is supposed to be sympathetic concern but mostly looks like she stubbed her toe right after smelling microwaved fish. “You’re sure it’s not too soon?” 

It is. 

It definitely is too soon.

Steve’s pleasantly buzzed at a New Year’s Eve party — some random rich kid’s house, loitering in the space between the living room and kitchen so he and Robin can properly people watch (see also: be hugely judgmental bitches about the fashion sense of the girls on the dance floor and the sloppy form of the guys doing keg stands on the back deck) — and Steve just opened his fat, drunk mouth and casually admitted to being in love with Eddie. 

Eddie, the guy who hated him for years. The guy who tried to knife him the first time they interacted as neighbors. 

The guy whose silhouette has started to fill the passenger seat in Steve's Winnebago dreams. 

Eddie’s here, but he’s not here; probably posted up somewhere in the basement so he can deal to the stoners and the horny kids playing Spin the Bottle, and Steve— 

Steve knows he falls too fast. Always has, but especially now. Steve fell for Eddie like a gunshot going off: a deafening bang, gurgling fish sounds, blood all over the floor. He kinda thinks he couldn’t help it. Kinda thinks he’d do it again. 

And how could he not, when Eddie smiles at him like that? When he takes him apart so sweetly with his words, his lips, his tongue? When he dragged Steve by the hand into the back pew of a midnight mass on Christmas Eve, giggling about how he was shocked his satanic worship hadn’t set the bench aflame? 

Yeah. 

Steve totally understood why Jesus got up on that cross. 

“Oh, my god,” Robin rolls her eyes with a strangled huff. “Are you seriously just—? You’re fucking hopeless.” 

Yeah, he is, and yes, he is. “No,” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest and trying not to feel like a defiant kid who got caught lying to his mother, because yeah, he totally is spacing out into lovesick La La Land while being actively accused of spending too much time there lately. “I’m not fucking hopeless, and it’s not too soon.”

Robin gapes at him like 'are you kidding me right now?' “Steve!”

“Robin!” he answers, mimicking her tone. Wow. Vodka makes him petulant. 

It makes Robin stubborn as hell. She juts her chin out and hollers over the music, gesturing so aggressively she almost spills her drink, “Admit that it’s too soon!”

“It isn’t!” Steve shouts back; digs his heels in and refuses to budge, never mind the fact that it’s only been, like, three weeks since Eddie fingered him for the first time oh, god, don’t think about Eddie’s fingers right now.

They stare at each other for a second, Robin’s nostrils flaring with the words she so clearly wants to yell at him, her breaths coming hot and harsh, and then, with a long sigh, her shoulders deflate. Her chin comes down. She bites her lip again, teeth turning the skin white as her eyes go big and sad. Worried. She's worried for him because she loved him first. 

Steve smiles at her, a quick, closed-lip thing that feels more like shrugging with his mouth, and he leans into her space; pats her cheek and thumbs her chin until she stomps chomping on her lip.

“You’re gonna get it all chapped,” he says in a hush, hoping her Steve translator is still intact after a couple drinks. Hopes she knows that he’s really saying ‘I hear you’ and ‘I love you, too; I love that you care’ because they're at a party and god does he not feel like saying sappy friendship shit out loud. 

Robin’s eyes get misty. Just for a second — message received; copy that — and she clears her throat and shakes it off. Points at something over Steve’s shoulder and drags him to the other side of the room.

—

part 45

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[lost-in-lamentation]

marred.

a/n: and for my birthday, i would like to give lucifer a hug.

content: lucifer is overworked (shocker). takes place in original timeline.

warnings: nothing? i think?

comfort. lucifer × gen!reader (you/your).

it's late by the time you return home, the clock ticking far past midnight as you walk by it in the hallway. your steps are muffled by the carpet beneath you. the only sound that can be considered loud from you is the way the plastic bag in your hand crinkles with each step. you head towards the dining room, placing the bag on the table just as you hear a loud thud coming from above. you wonder if it's leviathan doing another game marathon, belphegor falling out of his bed, or satan having a late night tantrum. with a sigh, you turn heel and head back to your room, putting the rest of your belongings down before venturing out to see if you need to scold a certain brother. 

you poke your head into levi's room first, but write him off the list when you see him in his bathtub tapping away at his handheld console. you're about to check the twins next when something else catches your eye. it's not uncommon for lucifer to be working this late into the night, but his usual habits always have the lights dimmed. 

quietly, you rap on his door a few times, rocking back and forth on your heels until it clicks open. 

clearing your throat, you step inside and shut the door behind you. "i'm home," you say softly, crossing the room to where lucifer sits on the couch. "you're not working?" 

uncharacteristically, lucifer shakes his head no, briefly meeting your gaze before gesturing for you to sit next to him. "it… felt like a nice night to sit and watch the fire." 

"yeah?" you slot yourself next to him, shoulders brushing as you settle in. lucifer doesn't say anything more, but you're quick to notice his ungloved hands and the way his knuckles are white from clenching them so hard. without a word, you flip your own hand to have your palm facing up, keeping your eyes trained on the fire. you stay that way for a while, the crackling of the embers taking up the rest of your attention. it's only when you feel lucifer tentatively place his hand in yours that you look back at him. a gentle smile tugs at the corners of your lips before you turn to the fire again. 

lucifer opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it. instead, he pulls your entwined hands up, pressing them to his forehead for a few seconds. in your grasp, you feel his hands trembling, and his breath is shaky against your skin. you face him again, this time with concern carved into your expression.

"tell me what's going on," you whisper, pulling your hands down so you can see lucifer's face. your heart sinks at the sight; the defeat marring his face is so blatant when it's just the two of you. 

his eyes barely meets yours. "i…" he pauses, and you worry that he is looking for a way out. but lucifer sighs after a second, his head hanging low. "i am tired." 

your chest constricts at the sight of lucifer being so vulnerable. slowly, you untangle your hand from his, wrapping your arm around his shoulder and tugging him down so his head lands in your lap. his eyes are red, and it's not the usual ruby coloured gaze you've grown accustomed to seeing. lucifer's eyes glow red with turbulent emotions, sadness and defeat overtaking all. "you've done well."

lucifer can feel the tenderness as you cup his cheeks, your care and compassion so stark that he feels like the dam will break. but you smile at him, and lucifer can't stop the warmth that spreads from your hands all the way into his own heart. pride be dammed when he is with you; nothing feels better to lucifer than when he finally feels understood. 

a/n: idk i had a pretty bad week actually but now i'm 22 and what better way to celebrate than putting lucifer through emotional hell, am i right?

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

[mayormimii]

Really really good ask game questions I'll have to steal (reblog) later; 3, 4, 13 for you? ♡

Thank you both for the lovely sentiments & taking time to ask, it’ll be a pleasure to send you my questions and get to know you as well! <3 Please mind that I’m entirely referring to Classic as I answer these,

Favorite nameless/minor NPC?

You could likely tell by my pinned post: I’ve been called the CEO of Teensy nation. The prospect of seeing her makes long walks less dreadful & Uncle Bachelor’s conversations with his niece are never not a treat. One of my favorites is when she gushes about her fondness for Maria! Shoutout to Tot for creeping out Uncle Bachelor simply by knowing too much about everything at all times.

And I’m stupefied by the Herb Brides whenever one is near. My fixation began when the Bachelor asked for the heart of a Kin and, in passing, mentioned often seeing dancers walking the streets—which puzzled me; I never spent enough time in the Tanners/Skinners district after sundown to run into one. What Dankovsky said made me wonder, “Do these girls hide when they see the Ripper, but don’t mind being around the far-less-intimidating Bachelor?” It was only late one rainy night I finally encountered a dancer. I couldn’t even make out who/what she was in the dark until she stopped, turned to meet my gaze, and a flash of lightning revealed her. 

That was the first time I really noticed the character model’s bittersweet, tender expression: wide, sad eyes and a mouth between a smile and a frown. In the downpour, she looked so young, cold, and vulnerable. Thinking she was a special NPC, I felt compelled to talk to her but was chased off by a bandit. After quickly entering and exiting an infected house to shake him off, she vanished. I knew NPCs tend to do that, but it felt so ominous and left a powerful impression on me. Now, I find myself lingering whenever I see a bride.

What made you giggle hardest?

Oh, if you could only watch me try to explain anything about Pathologic ever with a straight face. The ratio of absurdity in this game against how much the fans actually acknowledge is staggering when my favorite pastime is to subject an unfamiliar family/friend to my summaries until I’m a cackling wreck. Why does Rubin send you hate mail? Why does Artemy eat people on the street? Why is my hashish dealer a talking worm? How are the kids sustaining the local economy? Why is Andrey in exile for the House House? Why is Mark Immortell deeply angry at the giant cow on the other side of Town? Why does the governor try to arrest you because a rat lied to his wife in her sleep? Why do NPCs talk as if they all signed an NDA? The game is hysterical almost at the risk of me taking no one seriously. I can’t even sincerely hate some of the scummiest characters.

If I had to pick one, ultimately, it would be encountering the Rat Prophet under the well. I went into the game utterly blind and started with the Haruspex Route, so the first few days already overwhelmed me with questions (see: above), and I was so sure I had seen it all by the fifth day, but then I climbed to the bottom of a well and found a rat in a tailcoat with a theatre cigarette holder, chastising Artemy for not listening to the Satanic whispers of (allegedly) his late father, and I thought: “You’re right, Ice Pick Lodge. I apologize for being completely in the wrong yet thinking I knew everything. My arrogance was a grave sin.”

Give a character who could use more love a shout-out.

The order in which I played the routes (Haruspex -> Changeling -> Bachelor) made a gradually unraveling mystery of Vera Verba. For a character whose presence amounts to a single conversation within a day, her story was so unforgettable that after her quest, I had to spend three weeks away from Classic. I wanted her to recur, like Lika, at a later day should you succeed in protecting her. I hope she returns in 3; Vera revealed so much about the Bachelor.

Similarly, I was curious about Ayan! A lovely guest. Isn’t she a cousin/niece of Oyun? More of her, please, and of that relation. How does she feel about suspicions around him and Isidor’s death?

The Powers That Be make for the most melancholically beautiful frame narrative and raise the question of what details from their personal lives informed their creative input (e.g. most of us agree that Simon is their dearly departed IRL). I’d like to write a fic about them in which they’re similar to Nina and Johan from Naoki Urasawa’s Monster, if you’re familiar. Inshallah they never discover the Sims when they grow up 🤲 āmin.

Finally, of all the Bound, I find Alexander Saburov overhated. He doesn’t make himself easily likable, granted, but being in Clara’s shoes opened my eyes to the fascinating juxtaposition between the lordly, literal-minded archetype he represents and the feminine mysticism to which he submits himself.  I’ve been trying to explore that in a fic about him and Maria (though it’s really about his evident internal conflict around loving yet fearing Clara).

I apologize for the length, but I hope anything in there jogged your thoughts; you touched upon some of my favorite points of discussion!

[youwouldntlietopapa]

OooOoooooOOoo I saw your reblog the kiss prompts thing?? I feel like Copia would 100% say the "I think this is the part where you kiss me" prompt lmaooo

I love his (s)ass

Okay, I hope you'll forgive me for changing it up just a little. I had an idea I couldn't shake and it fit so well. Includes: Mutual pining, separated, sexting, masturbation +18 only, MDNI

______________________________________________________________

It was late and Copia knew it when he sent the first text. Still, you were almost always awake as late as he was. Even when you were apart. Either way, tonight he needed to talk enough to try.

He'd spent several hours trying to find something to distract him from thinking of you, in his bed, waiting for him. Wearing one of his shirts, with that coy smile. Even that thought was enough to get him going again. Hellfire, he needed this tour to be over.

At least the Dark Lord was feeling merciful. His text was answered almost immediately.

All it will take is one word, he thinks. One word and he will be on his way back. Damn the consequences. Any punishment they could offer would be worth it just to have you in his arms.

What he wants when he gets home is nearly identical to what he wants right now. To strip off any clothing that comes between the two of you and then to drag you to bed. To fuck you until both of you are too exhausted to move. And then to sleep the peaceful, perfect sleep he only finds with you in his arms.

He can feel the silk of the red dress in his hands, pressed against his skin. He can smell your perfume lingering in the air. Copia strains against his sweatpants and he palms himself through the fabric.

He groans shamelessly in the quiet hotel room. A dark spot of precum already showing on the front of his trousers. It's not as good as having you, of having you touch him, but desperate times...

Copia leaves his phone on the bed and gets up with a growl. Whoever is interrupting your conversation had better have a good reason. Like the building being on fire. Or Satan himself asking for you personally at the front desk. He curses under his breath the entire way from the bed to the door, swearing a solemn oath that if it's one of the Ghouls having a laugh, he'll send them back to the pit personally.

Another round of rather frantic sounding knocks only deepens his scowl. "I'm coming!" He barks. At least, he would be, if this stronzo hadn't interrupted.

The door opens just enough for him to look out, glaring, ready to demand an explanation. Instead, he freezes. His mouth hanging open in stunned silence. And the door slowly swings open further.

In the hallway, in the red dress you know he loves, you wait with your phone. Stepping closer with a cheeky smile. Even as your heart thunders in your ears and the urge to throw yourself at him is nearly overwhelming.

"I heard some stronzo was trying to knock your door down. I came to tell them to fuck off."

Copia's mouth opens and closes a few times, staring at you like he's seen a ghost. "H-how???"

"I caught the earliest flight I could. If I had to spend one more day without you, I was going to lose my mind." You take another step closer, pressing up against him. Licking your lips and running your hands over his chest. "Now... I think this is the part where you kiss me."

[shortfictionweeklychallenge]

Short Fiction Weekly Challenge

Time for a new prompt from the Short Fiction Weekly Challenge, tumblr edition.  Let it spark your imagination.  Any character, any fandom, any original world.   Reblogs welcome!

Post your story to your blog and send the link to Short Fiction Weekly Challenge!  We’ll send the link out to all our followers to enjoy.

This week’s SFWC prompt:

Week of June 7, 2024

Live to Tell: Those close calls make for great stories, assuming your character lives to tell about it. That’s not always obvious in the moment. And might not be intentional. What harrowing experience has your character lived to tell about? Were they supposed to survive to spread the word? Is their survival as much of a surprise to their enemies? Is “live to tell” more metaphorical, meaning a difficult time in their lives but not not literally life or death? They lived, so tell about it.

Feel free to continue submitting stories for any prompt.  A masterpiece missed the deadline?  Don’t let it gather electronic dust.  Submit it anyway and Short Fiction Weekly Challenge will publish it.  

This week’s featured previous prompts are: 

Trusty Steed: The Lone Ranger had Silver, Han Solo had the Millennium Falcon, does your character have a Trusty Steed? A means of transport that's a character in itself? One with which your character shares a special bond? Loyal to a fault, remarkably clever, capable of incredible feats of bravery? Requires unending maintenance, refuses to perform on command, would sell your character to satan for a corn chip given half a chance?  A trusting relationship based on mutual respect, or something more passive-aggressive and hostile? Write about your character's trusty steed--or someone else's. 

It's All Downhill From Here! The situation is handled, crisis solved or averted, nothing left but the cleanup and a smooth glide to the end. On the other hand, maybe it's more like a downhill slide into a swamp or off a cliff. It's fun to shake up reader--and character--expectations. Throw up some roadblocks or dig some potholes in their easy ride. Make that smooth landing less so. Complete disaster optional.

Got an idea for a prompt?  Submit it here.

[necromancy-enthusiast]

Guys I'm not saying that the way the world is becoming doesn't make it easier for cults to take advantage of people but like...

It's really funny that the satanic panic is mentioned but this *kiiinda* feels like that, but it's Millenials pointing the finger, so clearly we're in the right. Like where are the sources about Gen Zers getting into cults or spreading that kind of info over tiktok? All of this is hearsay. I'm not on tiktok admittedly but I've been looking online for anything suggesting this and have found nothing.. Unless you count links to this post. And a couple of articles about how Gen Zers are 'still susceptible to misinformation', but that's meant to debunk the idea that they're supposedly immune from it compared to previous generations.

You mention ohhhh the BOOMERS were especially susceptible to cults and those dumb naive kids are susceptible to cults, but you conveniently leave millennial and gen Xers out. Like guys you're literally doing that thing where you shake your fist and go 'kids these days!!!' to them, just like our parents did to us. I'm really just kind of tired of this thinly veiled superiority complex people my age are developing towards kids? I mean that's absolutely nothing new for humans, but it's still deeply tiresome.

My pals one of the most unhelpful things you can do for yourself are thinking you're above everyone else and *you* would never fall for a cult, or at least *you're less likely to* than your mom or your nephew because uh... *Checks notes* uhhhhhh *flips page* uuhhhhh... Because you grew up in a certain generation?... *flips another page* uuhhhhhh...

*drops notebook* Hey like, maybe if you're actually concerned about this and the well-being of The Youths, you could try and talk to some gen Zers yourself, or reach out to them in some way, instead of reblogging sourceless posts on tumblr.com? But not in this way because actually, I remember people talking like this to me as a kid and it pissed me off a lot (and I know it was the same for a lot of us, but I guess some people have forgotten and thought *they* didn't deserve it but nowadays kids do). Everyone loves when older people talk down to them, it's a great way of establishing meaningful communication.

One story I particularly remember are when these bracelets called silly bands were really popular when I was in high school. I never really got into them but I got a few as gifts, and a lot of my classmates did, especially girls. They either traded them, bought them online, or got them at irl stores when those stores realized they were getting popular. They were very, very, very cheap.

But then some weirdos made up the rumor that teenager girls (always teenage girls, never boys of course) were doing sexual favors for adults (grown men, in this case) to get more silly bands like. No. They weren't. They were going to Clair's and getting twenty for one dollar in usd, or trading them with classmates. It's much easier to go to Clair's than to find some creep looking for favors from teenagers anyway. Something similar that I only learned about after the fact was the myth of 'rainbow parties' where teens would supposedly have orgies where girls would wear lipstick of different colors and perform oral sex on different boys so they'd have multiple colors of lipstick on their genitals. That was also total and utter bullshit.

So yeah, I'm *a bit* skeptical when I see this sort of thing come into my sphere.

My hypothesis is that in like 10 years gen z is gonna have a big cult boom the way the boomers did in the 70s

[leviathans-watching]

hello🥰

can you make a headcanons with satan + solomon and maybe any character you want to add with mc who likes doodling cats/stars or anything during the day or maybe even in class on the (character) hands and they find it cute ??

love you❤️ .

drawing cats on lucifer, satan, solomon, and diavolo

includes: lucifer, satan, solomon, diavolo x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .5k | rated g | m.list

a/n: ugh this was adorable, i hope you enjoy! thanks for requesting and ly2!! my inbox is open to chat, req, or leave feedback so come talk w me

please like, reply, and reblog!!

grabbing a pen from your bag, you take your seatmate’s hand in yours, double-checking to make sure the lecturer isn’t looking.

“what are you doing?” he hisses, but you only flash him a grin, putting the pen to his hand. gently, you draw out a design, taking care to make it neat and cute.

patiently, he waits for you to finish, taking notes with his other hand. you should be taking notes. it’s fine, you’ll get them from him later.

once you’re finally done, you pull back, letting him admire your work.

➳ lucifer looks down at his hand, eyebrows raised. “a cat? really?”

you let out a quiet giggle, leaning your head on his shoulder. “i made it grumpy, just like you!” you take his hand again, admiring your beautiful art, and can’t help but laugh again.

“i should go wash my hands,” he whispers idly, a half-threat. hopefully, he doesn't–you put effort into that cat! you even tried to make the eyebrows match!

unbeknownst to you, however, lucifer secretly quite enjoys the drawing and doesn’t plan to wash it off any time soon.

➳ satan look down at his hand, breaking into a rare smile. “a cat? oh, mc, you know me so well.”

“of course i do,” you return, and he chuckles quietly.

“here, give me the pen.” you do as he says, and he takes your hand. “i’m going to draw a cat to match.”

he’s so serious and focused, which is honest perfect, because it gives you a moment to stare at his face, unabashed. after a few moments, he pulls back, revealing his masterpiece. it’s honestly not that well done, but you’ll cherish it all the same.

➳ solomon squints down at his hand. “what in the world is that supposed to be?”

“a cat!” you hiss, scowling. “isn’t it obvious?”

“a cat?” he turns his hand this way and that, trying to see a cat in the squiggle of lines you’d drawn. “no, not at all.”

“you suck,” you inform him, and he laughs.

“here, give me the pen. i’ll show you how a real cat is drawn!” the mess he leaves on your hand isn’t any better than your attempts, something you continue to rib him over for the next few days.

➳ diavolo preens as he examines the drawing. “i like the hearts around its head,” he whispers. “what’s its name?”

“harold,” you whisper, and his shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. it wouldn’t do for the lord of the devildom to be caught slacking off in class.

“the name suits him,” diavolo praises, and you smile, satisfied. “perhaps i should get this tattooed here. i’ll even draw you one to match”

“i wouldn’t go that far,” you say quickly, not wanting him to do something stupid, “but i don’t hate the idea of matching tattoos.”

leviathans-watching's works - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[inknopewetrust]

𝐔𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐝 [𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮]

summary: grief puts those in its grasp in precarious positions: those of loyalty, and those of spite and those with love, well, they flounder amongst the hurt. [WC: 1.8k]

pairing: stewy hosseini x fem!roy!reader

warnings: angst, exes to lovers (potentially!), language, vignette on grief and love lost.

quick links: masterlist [a/n: possibly part I of a small vignette series of stewy and fem!roy reader. thoughts, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!)

Entombed in marble, the note reverberated throughout the church in poetry. 

The scaffolding of grief had been built. Sitting in rows for as far as the eye could see, a family rested scorched amidst the sorrow. 

You felt like a stranger in the room. 

The suddenness of pain revels in the commonality it inflicts. A sweeping, precipitous moment of immense breadth swallowing the weak for what they are: people. 

And the people inside that room—ornately defined by cultures and individuals who gave so much to a city where one human can overtake and limit their worth— were flooded by an insurmountable loss that could only be explained by the static of a draining phone and the choppy voice of your sister’s estranged husband. 

Those two words, simple, rolling off his tongue with difficulty and a wish that the call would drop and everything would go back to the way it was before he walked away. 

“He’s gone.” 

The tone in his voice had remained buried in the darkest parts of your mind. You felt as though you could hear it clearly as the small conversations of visitation began to settle and you couldn’t bear to look at the center of the alter. 

The sudden ringing in your ears suffused every sense you were able to muster in that moment. 

But your ears rung. Manicured hands began to shake and tempted you to stand and run away because grief worked in silly circles. The disbelief that something could occur so quickly, the naivety of realizing that the world was suddenly different than the one that existed before, and the pain of faltering to the idea that even if he was Satan, he was still your father and grief felt indebted to it. 

It was lonely, grief. 

Even while hundreds of people spoke of their condolences, loneliness of death weaved itself into your bones and pulled you underneath the surface where bubbles of hope had long ceased. Everyone from Gerri to Colin to Frank to Karl, each face with the same look staring into your eyes with a pity you asked not for but knew belonged in your heart all the same meant little when the world felt tipped on its axis. 

And for the cruelty of the man, it was difficult to understand.

Kendall was holding his life together by a thin and shallow thread and remained so as the priest wallowed on about the supposed amazing man Logan Roy was. 

But even with an estranged family, Kendall was never as lonely as he appeared to be. He wasn’t like you. You, left alone to fiddle with your hands as Shiv sat without Tom and Roman sat beside Conner and Willa. The paper between your fingers became crinkled—the only partner you had in a moment like this. 

And how you wished it wasn’t the case. You wished you weren’t some lonely pretender who sat sorrowful at a wretched man’s funeral but there you were... strangely obliterated by the idea that life can turn in an instant and the Aeneas of an institution can vanish without so much as a goodbye.

It felt comical and tragic at the same time—the poets of civilizations past would be aching to tell a story such as that. 

And Kendall had reiterated such on that fateful day on the yacht because those who would write biographies were watching. Those who would ultimately shake their heads and scoff at the compounding confusion of losing a belligerent soul and making it appear as though a Saint had passed. 

Whatever was to be done in the moments following the death of the patriarch, history would be watching. As much as you hated the idea of history looming over the raincloud high above you, he was right. The institution built by Logan Roy did not need to be littered with the historical fact of the middle, forgotten child losing their sanity at his funeral due to loneliness that had, in truth, nothing to do with Logan dying but the unity death brought with it. 

However, you could argue, Logan was the crux of that loneliness. He had fostered it, just as well as your mother had when she left the four of you to fend for yourself against the vultures. Now Conner, Kendall, Roman, and Shiv all bask in that same attitude as if was normal to be a carbon copy of the most antithetical person to ever exist. 

You hated that being in the room; sharing the same last name, and sitting beside them meant you were likely no different. 

And that is why you could never have what the world granted everyone else: happiness. 

Loneliness was the path of salvation for those with the last name of Roy. Happiness, or love, whichever one truly came from the actions that preceded it had become foreign for decades of the power hungry struggle of men and women before you. 

It radiated throughout the room like Godzilla’s goddamn rays when the priest had ushered his final prayers and you couldn’t even put your hands together and bow. Beside Kendall, Shiv had extended her palm to rest on top of his as they prayed like the good servants of God they were, and you wished someone had sat beside you and done the same even for split second. Conner had Willa, Shiv still had Tom in the small capacity that she did, and Roman was so beside himself with romance that even he couldn’t admit that he needed someone too. 

How you ached for a hand to grace yours; how you yearned for someone to place an enduring kiss on your temple and say that they loved you even if you couldn’t believe the truth behind it. 

So the loneliness of that vacancy simmers. 

The cynical heart hears the organs begin to play and your siblings rose from their seats as it was time to pretend that you enjoyed the service and you wanted the sympathy of others as they shook your hand and gave you hugs outside of the church. But you didn’t want those hugs. You didn’t want those hands. 

You wanted one hug. You wanted one pair of hands. You wanted one sympathetic moment and one sympathetic kiss and pretend, for one simple moment, that nothing had changed. 

Dad wasn’t dead. Waystar wasn’t floundering in a shallow grave and the maggots of sheep herding to its demise wasn’t going to come next. Sorrow didn’t exist. You weren’t alone—hadn’t been alone. 

Across the aisle, donning a black overcoat and three-piece-suit, the simple moment waited. There was little that could have been done feeling maimed by actions unseen but it had been five months of radio silence between you both. One car ride home and the whole thing imploded like a fucking rocket ship.  

The congregation stood in solemn stature as the row of family filed out first. Kendall, followed by his small brood, then you. 

You took one last look at the coffin that held the once formidable Logan Roy. 

Flowers resting on the top, the flag of Scotland draped over it. 

For a man so powerful, the weakness of death was hard to ignore. Wilting away in a box for the rest of eternity while the world continued to spin without him. And yet, there in that room and within your own heart and mind, Logan Roy was twisting a footprint of pain deeper than it had before. 

Dad died without anyone truly loving him.

You did not want to die like your dad. 

Stewy Hosseini was a lifeline. He was a chameleon of couture culture and finessed fashion but within the idealized image of an investor, there was a man who cared for the people who couldn’t say the word ‘love’ or ask for help when they needed it. 

Stewy Hosseini was a good man wrapped up in a world that had people one step from going over the ledge but always looked for a solution to solve it. He was a good friend of Kendall even if the stubborn prick never noticed it when it mattered. He was a charming bastard who did lines in public restrooms and put his feet on conference tables during important meetings. 

He was the only one to say what he meant without ever getting burned by it but left you shriveling to ash in the corner. 

Stewy Hosseini was that solitary hope. 

As you looked away from your father's casket, you were frightened by the realization that what was once an outlet for relief had become something to depend on. That five months of absent feelings created a void of indescribable pain that found an outlet in your father’s demise. 

You weren’t lonely, no. You were filled with a love that shouldn’t exist with someone who shouldn’t have looked at you the way he did and the yearning for comfort only exacerbated the want. 

Maybe he should have taken the deal on Paxos. Maybe he should have said yes, that the package that was tied with a perfect little string matched the black little box that sat in the drawer beside the bed but he didn't.

As you turned toward the aisle to follow the precession, you couldn’t even get your eyes to cast forward because he was right there. Across the way and a row down beside Sandy in his wheelchair and Sandi in her Hillary Clinton pantsuit. 

You clutched the program tightly in your hand. Lip trembling, you watched your feet take you away and there was a second in time where you were alone before another hand inched its way into your palm and around your hand. 

Some people would never know the absence of love. 

They would be grown into it with a kind mother and good family that loved her because they were an innocent child who was not afraid of being the hand that met a lonesome one in the middle of a grand church.

Shiv’s hand crept into yours as the memories of Ewan’s harshness, Kendall’s stoniness, and her fierceness waddled to the background.

Her eyes met yours and for a minute of the day, you felt seen. 

And down the aisle, Stewy wished it was his hand comforting your own. 

One where he could trace a finger over yours and feel the ring that was supposed to sit there. He could hear the Phantom in that cathedral now:

'You've been asking me for three fuckin' years son so yeah, I'll even throw in my goddamn blessing if that makes you so fucking happy.'

Maybe he should have said yes and everything would be different.

But a Roy would always swallow their pride in moments of need and Stewy Hosseini would always chase the money. There were moments before: a bliss, a fight, a phone call. And then there were moments after: a funeral, a short escape, and a board meeting. But the seconds that lingered in between those events were always shroud in the belief in the former:

A Roy was a Roy, and a Roy never floundered until it was too late.

comments, thoughts, and reblogs are always appreciated. thank you for taking the time to read my lil 'ol fic.

Tagged: @mini-ranger @prettybirdi

[darklyndivinely]

I'm okay, really!

Fandom(s) - Obey Me!

Pairing(s) - Mammon x gn!Diavolo's sibling!reader

Summary - When Mammon misses your date, you go to HOL to find him.

Warnings - Fluff, romance, a bit of angst. Reader calls Mammon 'baby.' I thirst for him a bit in this.

Wordcount - 1k+

A/N - This one's rather simple to be honest and is mostly fuelled by my anger about everyone's attitude towards Mammon's punishments. In other words, this is a 'protect Mammon at all costs' fic. Also, reader is related to Diavolo, though it's never exclusively mentioned, it's just implied. If you've got any ideas on what I should write next send in an ask. Also guys, Reblog! please! Tell me what you think.

Leave a tip! • OM!Masterlist • Taglist Form

“Hey, Asmo!” you say when the door to the House of Lamentation spills open.

Asmo greets you back, stepping onto the porch to press a kiss to your cheek. You giggle, eyes drawing to his freshly painted nails. 

“Looking good,” you comment, stepping into the brightly lit entrance hall. 

“Always.” Asmo flicks his hair, shutting the doors with a wave of his hand. You smile, heading deeper into the common room where most of the brothers are lounging.

Beel is the first one to notice you and waves a hand full of cupcakes at you. You wave back at him, chuckling.

“Have you guys seen Mammon?” you ask, settling on one of the sofa’s arms. “He and I were supposed to go on a date tonight but he never showed up.”

“Mammon’s not at home,” Asmo replies quickly from behind you. “Do you wanna click a picture? It’s been so long, all of my fans would go crazy seeing us together in a single frame.”

Before you can answer, Asmo has already made his way to your side. Having no choice left in the matter, you stand and let Asmo loop his arm through yours and smile into the camera. You shake your head when he tries to convince you to strike a different pose.

“If Mammon isn’t here, then where is he? I thought he got caught up in some work, and that’s why he got late.”

“When he comes back, we’ll tell him you dropped by,” Satan says from his place by the fireplace, eyes unwavering from the novel clasped in his hand. 

You sigh; you had been really looking forward to the date. And you thought Mammon had been excited for it too, especially based on his reaction when you had told him that you had booked the whole restaurant for the outing. 

“Are you sure none of you know where he is?” you try for the last time, watching Asmo fiddle with his phone while returning to his seat beside Satan.

Your question is answered by a familiar voice as Lucifer strides into the common room, waistcoat flying behind him.

“Mammon is busy tonight. I sent him to do an errand for me. I’m sorry he missed your date.” 

“What errand? He didn’t tell me of any work you had assigned him.” 

“It was rather sudden,” Lucifer answers.

You hum, scanning his figure, eyes latching onto the stack of files in his hands.

“How’d your meeting with Dia go?” 

“It went well. The rule has been finalized. We shall be announcing it with a school assembly coming Monday.”

You nod, looking around at everyone. “I suppose there’s no use waiting for him then. Guess I’ll just drop off the gift in his room.” 

You turn, starting to walk towards the staircase that leads to the first floor. Heavy steps echo yours quickly, Lucifer stepping forward and blocking your way.

“You can give it to me, I shall hand it to him when he is back. It’s getting quite late after all.”

You shake your head, side-stepping him easily. “I don’t think so.” 

“I said I’ll give it to him.” He grabs onto you, firm fingers halting your movement.

You stare at his hand wrapped around your forearm, and then up into his eyes.

Lucifer returns your gaze with equal intensity as if challenging you to go against what he had said.

“Did something happen?” you mock, disappointment seeping into your voice.

“He stole one of the antique items of the house, and was going to sell it.”

“And you strung him up for that.”

Lucifer doesn’t reply, nose flaring. 

You shake your head, jerking your arm free, and move for the stairs again, steps loud with anger.

Mammon is hanging upside down in the hallway, with ropes twisting around his legs and torso in a deadly spiral. His eyes are closed, chest lifting lightly with shallow breaths.

You halt before him, feeling sadness envelop your heart at the sight of him. How many times had you found him like this now? Hung from the ceiling of his own home like a slaughtered chicken, fighting bare-handedly with the suffocating discomfort and yet trying his best to appear indifferent to the agony? It was difficult to recall.

“Mammon,” you whisper, “hey.” 

His marine eyes flicker open tiredly, surprise seeping into them when he catches sight of you.

“Hi,” he answers, voice hoarse with exhaustion.

“I’m gonna get you down, ok?” 

Mammon nods, eyes never straying from you.

You inch closer to him and reach out to his bindings. Warm energy transfers into them, making them unfurl delicately, not dissimilar to the blossoming of a flower.

You do not rush the process, watching the ropes slacken and twist to your command leisurely, though all you want is to feel his arms around you right this instant.

Mammon wobbles when the ropes set him on his legs. You stabilize him swiftly, gently maneuvering his body to support his weight better.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, breath coming a bit easier to his lungs. 

“I’m sorry I missed our date,” he mumbles.

A mirthless laugh pushes at your chest. “It’s alright, baby, we can always reschedule it.”

He hums, pulling away from you. He looks so much better. The color of his face has returned to normal, eyes no longer bloodshot. “Can we still go?” 

“I’m not so sure, Mammon. Are you feeling okay?”

He pauses, eyes flitting upwards and fixing behind you. “Yes. Would you like to?” 

You smile at him, sliding your hand against his jaw and gently coaxing his lips against yours. “Sure. Let’s go.”

You loop your arm through his and lead him downstairs, ignoring Lucifer’s piercing glare. You’ll deal with him later.

You take a stop by the kitchen on your way out and grab two cans of chilled soda from the fridge and hand one to Mammon. He knocks it back quickly, so you hand him the remaining half of yours too.

Ignoring the eyes of the rest of the brothers watching the scene unfold, you move swiftly past each of them. 

“Would you like to drive, baby?” you ask as the two of you reach your car. You knew Mammon loved it whenever you let him behind the wheel.

He ponders for a second, running his fingers along the body. “Not today.”

You nod, though you doubt he catches it, still lost in admiring the shiny coat on the bumper.

“Get in, then.”

You start the engine, the rumble of it familiar and comforting to your bones. 

Mammon is silent throughout the whole ride; you don’t prompt him even when you feel his eyes on you for extended periods. He only speaks up when you take the turn opposite the restaurant you had booked earlier that evening.

“We were supposed to go left, ya know?”

He didn’t seem too annoyed, so you decide to keep your little plan a secret for a bit longer.

“I know.”

He smiles, throwing his head back, the wind sliding against his warm skin pleasantly. You gaze at him, mesmerized by the sharp contrast of his ivory hair against the dark Devildom sky. 

“What? Why ya smilin’ like that?” Mammon questions, his own lips lifted in a grin.

“I love you,” you say and take in the subsequent reddening of his cheeks. It’s hard to believe someone could be such a balanced mixture of adorable and sexy. 

He tries to hide the widening of his grin behind his hand but you don’t mind. You’re more than used to his tsundere tendencies by now.

“I love you too.” 

Contrary to him, you don’t try to smother your happiness and flash him a toothy smile.

You reach your destination within a couple of minutes and shut the door behind you.

“What are we doing at Majolish?” Mammon questions while looking up at the bright pink store.

“Shopping, obviously.” 

You walk in, inhaling the cold air, and feel Mammon’s arm brush against yours as he comes to stand beside you. 

“Whatever you want, it’s on me.” Fishing out your debit card, you hold it up to his eye. “So how about that leather jacket you wanted, hmm?”

Mammon’s grin is slow to form and sharp to emerge. At least he is happy, you think. So while he takes off with your card and dives right into the leather section of Majolish, you pull out your phone and dial in.

“Barbatos, hey! Were you busy? I was wondering if you’d help me with something.”

[mammonsbby]

Wishes

A/N: I love soft Luci. Please reblog! Pairing: Lucifer x GN!MC Words: 1924 ✨My Masterlist✨

You can’t sleep.    

You aren’t sure why. Maybe that accidental five-hour-long nap you had with Belphie had something to do with it? You have got to stop letting him sit next to you on the couch. It’s so easy for him to fall asleep next to you. He always ends up laying all over you and then, because he’s so damn warm, you fall asleep too. And how could you possibly wake up when the Avatar of Sloth thinks you’re a body pillow?

You sigh and climb out of bed. What good is lying there if you're not tired anyway? Staring at the backs of your eyelids isn’t accomplishing anything. You could watch DevilTube. Or work on homework. Neither of those sounds good right now. 

After thinking for a few minutes, you get an idea. If you can’t sleep inside, maybe you could sleep outside, in the garden. And if not, stargazing is always nice. You rip the comforter off your bed and open your bedroom door, slowly, carefully. 

All you have to do is sneak outside without waking any of your roommates. It’s easier said than done since they all have super hearing and are nosy as hell. Despite this, you manage to make it to the door without arousing suspicion. Even though you tripped over the end of your blanket and almost fell on your face.

You push open the French doors to the garden and the cool night air welcomes you. 

Of course, it’s always night here. But right now, it’s truly night time and you can tell by the crooning of owl-like birds and the general calm. Sure, it’s sort of creepy, but there’s plenty of light from the moon. You step outside and walk down into the garden, blanket around your shoulders. 

—

Lucifer’s hand stops moving. And without the scratching of pen on paper, his study is filled with silence. He hears something… 

What was that? He raises a hand to his head. A migraine is coming on for sure. The very idea that one of his brothers would try to sneak out… by using the doors that are just under his window. It’s idiotic. 

He stands and stalks to the window, ready to drag someone inside. He’s already got a lecture prepared and a punishment in mind. But when he peers out the window, he finds something he wasn’t expecting.

—

You’ve just gotten your blanket spread out. You would’ve been done sooner, but one of Satan’s cats had distracted you. It’s now occupying a spot on the blanket to your left, curled into a tiny, purring ball. You’re sitting squarely in the center of the blanket, scritching at its head, just behind its ears. 

“I’ll get you some food in the morning,” You tell it softly. You take your hand away and start to lie down, but you’re startled by footsteps on the stairs behind you.

“What exactly are you doing out here?” asks a deep voice. You turn to see Lucifer, still in his day clothes, standing at the bottom of the steps with an expression you can’t quite decode. 

“I couldn’t sleep, so I came to look at the stars,” you answer. You start to stand, ready to gather up your blanket and go back inside for a speech about sneaking out in the middle of the night. Or about getting enough sleep. Or the various things that could happen to a human in the dark.

But Lucifer takes you by surprise when he says, “Oh. I think I’ll join you. If you don’t mind.”

You shake your head and pat the blanket. The demon wastes no time pulling off his shoes and removing his cape from his shoulders. He drops it, the fabric pooling near your knees. Then he steps in and sits down beside you. You give him a look as he lies back, one arm under his head. You lie down as well, feeling a bit awkward. 

Lucifer exhales deeply, “It’s rather nice out here tonight.”

You hum in agreement. The stars above you are dazzling, twinkling a silvery white in a hundred-thousand spots. And the moon’s glow accentuates Lucifer’s features, making him look more attractive than usual. If that’s possible. After a few moments, he seems to notice your eyes on him and gives a quirked brow in response.

“What are you staring at?”

You’ve been caught! 

“Isn’t stargazing more Belphie’s thing?” You ask, hoping to change the subject.

“Hmm. Belphegor might enjoy looking at stars, but I created several of them.” He answers, a wistful smile on his face. 

Your eyes widen as you realize what that means. “Really?”

He nods, “Yes. Though, that was a very long time ago.”

“Wow.” You turn your head back to look up at the sky. The two of you lie together silently for a while. And when you think Lucifer has fallen asleep, he sits straight up. 

“What is that cat doing here?” He asks incredulously. The cat in question stretches a bit and snuggles back into a ball. 

“It’s been there the whole time,” you reply with a laugh. His failure to notice it shows just how distracting you are. 

“Oh. I suppose it can stay, then.” Lucifer lies back down once again. The sound of your laughter has stirred something up in his chest. He waits until you’re looking away and turns to face you. Now it’s his turn to stare. 

His eyes rake over your face. The way the moonlight hits your skin makes you look ethereal, an angel in disguise. He watches how you blink, the way your lashes curve upwards, the shape of your lips. How, when the wind starts to blow, your hair goes with it, dancing in the gentle breeze.

“I love watching the stars. They’re so beautiful,” you say, interrupting his thoughts.

“Yes, beautiful,” Lucifer repeats. But, if the stars were all falling from the sky, he wouldn’t notice. Not at this moment. He’s completely enraptured by you. 

“I like being with you,” you say softly, without looking at him. Afraid to see his reaction. 

But Lucifer smiles. He opens his mouth to say the same, but before he can, you sit up excitedly and start pointing to the heavens. 

“Look! Look! A shooting star!” You exclaim. Lucifer looks up to see a star streaking across the sky. But he doesn’t understand why you’re so excited.

“What of it?”

“We have to make a wish!” You say, clasping your hands together in front of you. You close your eyes and start to say something under your breath.

“What kind of spell is that?” Lucifer asks, intrigued.

Once you finish your odd ritual, you open your eyes and turn to face him, still lying on his back. “I said ‘I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.’” 

“What?” Lucifer is more confused than he’s been in the last century. 

“I guess it’s a human thing. When you see a shooting star, you’re supposed to make a wish!” You smile and he makes a face. 

“How odd.”

“Just say it! Say it and make a wish, quick! The star is getting away!” You say, playfully slapping at his arm.

He decides to humor you. Lucifer closes his eyes and repeats your incantation. After a moment, he opens his eyes and gives you a look. “All right, I’ve made my wish. What now?”

“Uh, nothing, I guess.” You reply sheepishly.

“Nothing? What a shame. I had a rather good one.” He says, sighing. Then his curiosity gets the better of him. “What was yours?” 

“Nope. Can’t tell. It won’t come true,” you answer, wagging a finger at him. Lucifer has a near permanent crease in his brow. 

“Humans have such odd customs.” He remarks, shaking his head. But he’s relieved that he isn’t expected to tell what he’d wished for. Because, even if he thinks you might feel the same, the idea of being rejected makes him feel ill.

“Yeah, I guess. At least we don’t eat lizards.” You say, making him chuckle. He thinks he detects the slightest blush on your cheeks as you lie back down. The two of you slip into a now-comfortable silence and eventually, your eyes start to close involuntarily. 

—

When the morning comes, Lucifer awakes outside, on the ground with a soft purple blanket beneath him. He’s a bit confused, until the events of the night before play through his mind. He wonders what the weight is on his chest, then he glimpses down to see you. His cape is covering you and you’ve got an arm slung across his torso, snoring softly. 

Lucifer snorts at the scene before him. He could definitely get used to this. If not for the hard ground which has definitely done a number on his back. He winces and starts to move slightly, trying to relieve some of the ache. But the movement causes you to stir. 

“Mmm?” You hum, half asleep. Did you leave a window open or something? It’s sort of chilly. Wait… why is your bed breathing?

Lucifer observes as you start to come to life and laughs when your head pops up dramatically, your eyes widened to a comical degree. 

“You’re safe. It’s just me,” he murmurs, his voice raspy from sleep. Oh yeah. I slept outside. On Lucifer apparently. Your face starts to warm when you realize you’ve basically made a blanket of yourself, lying completely on top of him. 

“Well, if it isn’t the morningstar.” You say, delighting in the way he rolls his eyes.

He gives you a stern look, “not funny.”

“I didn’t realize you were so cuddly,” you smile, now propped up on your elbows, which are digging into his abdomen. 

He looks appalled. “Me? I was just lying here. You’re the one who rolled over–”

“Am I also the one who pulled your cape over us? And who wrapped your arms around me?” You ask. You look awfully pleased with yourself, he notices before looking away. 

What was he to do? Push you away and let you freeze? 

Eventually, he looks back into your eyes and you smile. Might as well shoot your shot. Hell, you’ve just slept on top of him all night. You clear your throat, “You’re really pretty when you’ve just woken up.”

Lucifer’s eyes widen and a rare flush creeps across his cheeks. He composes himself rather quickly, which is a shame. “I could say the same of you,” he says.

“Really?” Your voice comes out barely audible. 

“Yes.”

“Lucifer…” You start, unsure of how to ask.

“Hmm?”

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, cheeks warm.

Your boldness takes him by surprise, but he is, of course, the Avatar of Pride. So, rather than admit to the wish he’d made the night before, he smirks and with a rather arrogant expression says, “If you must.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, it’s not necessary if you don’t want me to.”

Lucifer sort of panics when you start to remove yourself from him, raising up off his chest. He grabs your arms. “No. Please. MC, kiss me all you want.” He says. The Avatar of Pride is gone. All he is is whatever you want. 

You smile softly and lean in close to his face. You look into his ruby red eyes for a moment and press your lips gently against his. Lucifer’s breathing hitches, which he will later deny, and he caresses the side of your face. You pull away just slightly, lips almost touching, “As you wish.”

[silver-tongued-bby]

Tear You Apart - Chapter II

Pairing: Dark!Loki x Dark!Serial Killer!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!! This is a Dark!Loki fic that explores dark themes including murder, serial killers, gore, murder, cigarette smoking, slight dub!con, satanic themes, a quick graphic description of a sexual act, and dirty language.

Words: ~3,200

Chapter Summary: Loki offers his services as teacher.

A regularly updated story? Who am I?!

I sincerely hope you enjoy this latest chapter- this is quickly turning into a 6-8 chapter fic, I hope you come along for the ride!

Likes, reblogs and comments mean more than you know 🖤

Chapter I here.

~~~

She lifted a brow at him before letting out a sigh. “Shit.”

Her hand went limp, and his fingers loosened the dagger from her grasp. He dropped it into his pocket dimension.

He watched her shoulders droop in the slightest, her ruby lips twisted into a lovely little pout.

“Oh pet,” he cooed, reaching out to lift her chin gently.

He tilted his head when he felt her lash out with her energy. He couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his lips at how she took advantage of his pity. Norns, everything she did was endearing.

“Is that any way to treat a guest?” He snapped his fingers, transporting her off his lap to the chair at the other end of the room. He needed to put some distance between them to think properly.

She quickly got to her feet, so he lazily flicked his fingers, pushing her back into the chair as he conjured thick ropes of green silk to bind her in place.

“If I didn’t know any better,” he stood from the couch, buttoning his trousers to his erection’s protest, “I’d say you wanted to kill me.” He gave her a smirk as he stepped forward leisurely, sliding off his blazer and laying it over an armchair before rolling up his sleeves.

“How intuitive,” she smirked, looking up at him through her lashes. “I’m a little lost,” she struggled against the bonds, her breasts straining between the bands of silk, still exposed above the cups of her bra. Loki swallowed hard, his gaze going back up to hers. “What has little old me done to gain the attention of a god?”

He grinned, turning to retrieve his glass of whiskey from the coffee table, taking a sip.

“So I tried to kill you. Haven’t you done that to almost everyone you know?”

He laughed, turning to face her. Every inch of her drew him in. From the amused purse of her lips, to the way she held her knees, straining against the bonds that held them together. She was perfect.

“Good point.” He placed the tumbler down on the coffee table then approached her, crouching so he was at eye-level. “To be honest, you intrigue me.” He leant forward, tilting his head in the slightest. “I don’t enjoy repeating myself, darling. What are you?”

A grin crept across her lips. “A really fucking excellent salesman,” she licked her lips. “Wouldn’t you be agree?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t deny that.” He reached out, trailing his fingers under her jaw to lightly hold the back of her neck. “I can feel it within you, pet. That-“ he hissed as she pushed her energy outwards against him once more. He didn’t flinch, instead angling her chin upwards with his thumb, keeping his fingers in place. “That energy. I’ve never felt it before. What is it?”

“Untie me and I’ll show you exactly what it can do,” she arched her back in the slightest, his gaze falling to where her soft flesh strained against the taut bonds.

His eyes met her taunting stare and a slow smirk spread across his lips at his realisation. “You don’t know, do you?”

Her jaw clenched momentarily, eyes narrowing in the slightest.

“I see.” He let his hand slip from her skin reluctantly as he stood. He walked towards the couch, looking out at the dark city beneath them. Regardless of where her power came from, he knew he couldn’t leave her. Aside from the odd ache within his chest whenever she came to mind, he couldn’t possibly leave her without teaching her to control her power- whatever it was. His eyes flickered to her reflection in the glass and he smirked.

In a flash he’d gripped her waist, spinning her around to keep her from reaching the presumable weapon she kept between her couch cushions.

“Very good, darling.” He noted the bonds on the floor- the silk singed with black. “Very good.” He held her close to him, inhaling her scent. He moved her to arms length, taking in the expression of ennui that had cast over her features. “How about a choice?” He took a step back, letting her go as he held up his hands. “I’ll leave now, and turn a blind eye to wherever or whomever your whims take you.” He snapped his fingers, and she was dressed once more. “Or,” he gave her a grin, “let me teach you how to use your power. We can find its source, determine where exactly all of this delicious energy is coming from. Meanwhile I’ll teach you how to use it in ways you’d never imagined.”

She chuckled. “Oh, so you can turn me over to the Avengers? Or better yet, turn me into an Avenger?”

He did his best to ignore the sharp edge her words held. He let out a soft laugh. “Those halfwits wouldn’t stand a chance around you. You know that, pet. You almost had me wrapped around your finger in just a few hours.”

“Who says I don’t?” She smiled.

“Fair.” He smiled back, turning from her to settle once more on the couch. He reached over to pull a machete from the couch cushions, holding it up with an arched brow. She shrugged and he tossed it behind him, the weapon landing with a soft thud on her carpet. “I don’t want to control you. I want to help you reach your full potential.”

She sat down at the other end of the couch, tucking her legs under herself. “And what do you get out of this little exchange? My soul eternal?” She cocked her head to the side with a smirk.

He thought for a moment. “A favour. One. Of my choosing.” He took in her sardonic smile and chuckled. “Oh darling, I don’t need such extravagant means to slip between those pretty thighs. This is a purely professional request.”

“Really?” Her eyes slowly drifted down his form. “Seems like your cock has other ideas.”

“It usually does.” He gave her a shrug and a smirk, ignoring the twitch between his legs. “What do you say?”

She bit her lip. “What can you teach me?”

He licked his lips to hide the smile that threatened to shine through. “Anything you desire. Astral projection, shape-shifting, hypnosis- though it seems you’ve got that down, molecular rearrangement, telekinesis,” he trailed off, indicating with a gesture that the list went on. “I’ve had centuries of idle time,” he shrugged.

“And you think I can actually do those things?”

He smiled, nodding. “And more. You already showed the basics of molecular rearrangement with the bonds.”

Her eyes fell to the dark city surrounding them as she thought, the space falling into a comfortable silence. “Okay.”

He waited a moment, in case she changed her mind. “You’re certain?”

“I’d be a fool to say no.”

“Yes.” He grinned as he stood, “you would.”

~~~

“Loki.” He turned his gaze from the snow outside towards the sentient green mass at the front of the room.

Loki widened his eyes in response.

“Any thoughts?”

“Many. Mostly pertaining to where exactly you found spectacles that could successfully wrap around that thick of a skull.”

Banner sighed.

“Do you even need them?” He wondered, tilting his head with a grin. “Or are you just wearing them to distract from,” he motioned towards Banner’s form, “this?”

Banner chuckled. “The temporal disturbances,” he flicked his finger, pushing the holographic image of Midgard in blue with flashing dots of red across the table towards Loki. “What do you think they are?”

He frowned, spinning the globe in his hands. “All six appeared at once?”

“Yes.”

“And all along one line of longitude?”

“Yes.” Another sigh. “We just discussed-“

“Five are equally spaced out.” Loki pursed his lips to hide the smirk at Banner’s exasperation.

“Christ,” Barnes murmured, shifting in his seat as he looked towards Wilson. It was just the four of them in the room, the Avengers going through what Loki affectionately called “the mass exodus.” Pepper graciously gave them a floor in the tower, helping out when she had the time, and bankrolling their many missteps.

He turned the globe with his fingers so that the points surrounded the circumference of the planet. One point remained in the middle. “I wonder,” Loki murmured, drawing lines between the edges, forming a five-point star with the remaining point at its very centre. The point was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

“Great. It’s time for arts and crafts,” Barnes rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat.

“Have we investigated this?” Loki touched the point in the centre surrounded by dark water.

“Yeah, we checked it out in the Quinjet this morning. Nothing there.” Wilson chimed in.

“Well go team! Seems like you’ve got this one handled.” He stood, clapping the giant mutant on the shoulder.

“Groundbreaking,” Barnes applauded sarcastically, earning a look from Wilson.

Loki walked towards the door, throwing Barnes a wink. “Apologies, I have another appointment.” He walked out into the hall. “I doubt you need my expertise on this, though you may want to brush up on your Satanic worship!” He called over his shoulder, stepping into the open elevator.

~~~

He made his way up the rusting staircase, opening the heavy door to the cold air. He took a breath, looking out at the sprawl of the snowcapped city. He grinned to himself as he rounded the corner, almost feeling giddy. “What’s that about the early bird?” He called, seeing her leaning against the elevated edge of the building, passively glancing over the side.

Her eyes shifted to him and a grin spread across her ruby lips. She wore a knit cap, her grey coat deliciously wrapped around her form, tight enough to keep the cold out. “Something about worms.” She shrugged, pushing off the brick and making her way to him.

He tried to ignore the incessant tug in his chest at the very sight of her.

“So what’s today’s lesson, professor?” She eyed him with a smirk. He was hit with the image of her lovely form bent over a mahogany desk, a plaid skirt barely covering her bottom, the soft flesh of her thighs pressing up against the hard wood as he made her squirm on his fingers.

He pushed the thought away with a shake of his head, chuckling when he saw the glint of mischief in her eye. Crafty little vixen.

“Very good,” he spoke, the residual energy sharp in the air. “I suppose we can start with mental manipulation. What have you explored?”

“Well there’s stuff like that,” she started, slowly pacing before him.

“Can you do it to more than one person at once?”

“Yeah, though I’ve never tried it with more than ten. That was a pretty good sales day.” She smirked. “I do own that skirt, in case you were curious.”

“Wear it to our next lesson and I might just give you extra credit,” he winked, quickly tucking that salacious idea aside for a later time. “Ten is a start, but I know you could reach more. What else?”

“Well everyone’s always wanted to be around me. Ever since I was little. Turned into a different kind of attention once I hit high school,” she put her gloved hands in her pockets, “before I could really control it.”

“Your parents? Were they not…”

“Around? No.” She finished with a dry laugh. “Left at the doors of the general when I was a day old.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, knowing how it felt to not be wanted by those who should have held you close.

She shrugged once more. “I ended up doing pretty well for myself regardless. Took a few years but I learnt how to make it work for me.”

“Impressive,” he nodded. He walked over to the edge of the building, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He offered her one, and passed her his gilded lighter as he took a puff. “Is that it?”

“My mood can affect people, seems like anyone within fifty feet of me feels whatever I’m feeling when it’s something strong.”

“Is it all of your emotions?” He frowned, he hadn’t felt a thing when they’d met.

“Only the best ones. Anger, sadness, being really fucking horny,” she grinned through an exhale.

“Handy,” he smirked. “Your bonds last night- how did you get through them?”

“Ah, that’s a new development,” she pulled her hand from her pocket, sliding off a glove before her skin was enveloped with a shifting black mass. “It’s like acid or something,” she looked to him, “I can throw it,” she tossed it towards the door, the sticky substance easily burning through the rusted metal.

“Interesting,” he nodded. “Molecular manipulation,” he conjured a small burst of green, throwing it below the hole she’d created in the door. He leant against the brick as it too ate through the metal. “Is that it?”

She pursed her lips. “I mean other than the insatiable need to bathe in human blood, that’s pretty much it.”

“Right.”

She laughed. “I’m fucking with you.”

“Ah so you kill for what? Sport?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Is this the part where you judge my mortal sins? And here I thought we were out for a good time.”

He chuckled. “I could care less about it, darling. On Asgard we regularly bathed in the blood of our enemies, coming home victorious to feast and fuck. I only ask as it may lead us to uncover where you come from and what exactly you’re capable of.” He flicked his cigarette into a pile of snow.

She shook her head, smiling. “That sounds magical. Do you miss it?”

“Of course. Stop changing the subject, pet. Why do you kill?”

She ground her teeth, taking one last drag before extinguishing the butt under her boot. “I don’t kill my enemies, though every last one of those fucks deserve it.” She chuckled. “In all honesty it’s one of the only things I can do that doesn’t bore me out of my fucking skull. The thrill of it all, it’s the most fun I’ve ever had. Feels like most of my life passes by in black and white, but the red- that really fucking pretty red is the only colour that shows through. The high I get after a kill, it’s addictive. It’s invigorating, it’s intangible, it’s fucking marvellous,” she was explaining with her hands, her eyes wide as she turned to him.

Her words made his heart race. Although he’d never drawn such pleasure from taking a life, unless out of revenge, the way she described it was thrilling, almost animalistic.

“It’s like I was made for it.” Her chest was heaving as she finished.

Loki wasn’t thinking when he reached for her hand, pulling her flush against him so she pinned him to the edge of the building. He certainly wasn’t thinking when his eyes flickered from hers to those eternally ruby red lips, parted to accommodate her quickened breath. Nor when he captured her lips in his, kissing her deep as she responded, his thumb brushing against the shell of her ear, his other hand holding her hip tightly. He was lost as soon as she slid her fingers into his hair from the base of his neck, her nails scraping against his scalp in a way that made him tremble. He wanted to take her then and there, his knee nudging her legs apart so he could draw her closer. Then all too soon she’d broken the kiss, breathing him in for a moment before pressing against his chest as she stepped backwards, out of his arms.

“Darling,” he mumbled, at a loss for words for the first time in centuries as he mulled over the sudden heavy feeling in his chest, knowing he’d cast several spells beforehand and wore two charmed rings to prevent her powers from affecting him.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” She held her arms around herself.

His brows drew together and he stepped forward, his hands up as if they still held her close. He let his grip close, his arms dropping down to his sides. “If I overstepped-“

“You didn’t. It’s me,” she shook her head. “I haven’t,” she trailed off. “This is going to sound fucking twisted,” she bit her lip. “But I haven’t done that before. Not with someone I didn’t end up killing.”

His eyes widened in realisation and he gave her a slow nod. “If you’d like to stab me with something to feel more at ease you are of course welcome to.”

She fought it, but her lips twisted up into a smile. “Fuck you.”

“Indeed.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I wasn’t thinking. I apologise,” he waved his hand as she opened her mouth to protest. “You decide if and when you want to, pet. We can go as slow,” he stepped forward to press a kiss to her cheek, holding himself there for a moment as her eyes slipped closed. He stepped back, “or as fast as you like.”

She pressed her lips together, nodding.

“I realise this will likely seem a little forward after that,” he smiled, “but let’s go for a drink.”

~~~

The bar was dark, expansive, and loud. At least a hundred voices shouted over one-another as patrons got served their after work drinks.

Loki sat beside her on a barstool, his leg pressed against hers as he leaned to speak in her ear. He finished what he said with a smirk, nodding encouragingly at her frown.

She sighed, clearly mouthing the word “shit” before her eyes slipped closed, seemingly in concentration. At that moment a lull passed over the crowd, conversations petering out for a few seconds before her eyes opened, a grin spreading across her lips.

There were a few nervous laughs before the conversation started up again, one of the bartenders blinking a few times before he shook the cocktail shaker once more.

She turned to him and laughed as he smiled back with an expression akin to adoration. He tossed a few bills on the bar top before whisking her out the door.

~~~

“Wonderful, darling. Absolutely wonderful!” He spoke as they walked down the street from the bar. He knew she could do it, the little darling was performing at a level few mortals dream to reach.

“That was really fucking fun. I didn’t know I could do that,” she said with a grin.

“Carrie?” He asked, thinking of the scene that had played out in his mind. He stood on a stage, looking down to see a bouquet in his arms, then out at the crowd of people before him moments before his vision clouded in red.

She laughed. “Yeah. All that talk about bathing in blood earlier had me thinking. I think her and I would have gotten along.”

“I’d have to agree,” he smirked. “The power you hold, it’s absolutely fascinating, so different from what I’ve known. How do you feel after that?”

“A little tired, now that you mention it. Though I’m pretty fucking proud of myself,” she turned to him, and he saw that her hands were shaking.

He gave her a reassuring smile. “That’ll happen when you push yourself.” He stopped her, holding her trembling fingers in his own. He needed to get her something to replenish her strength. He could tell she was fading fast. “Have you ever teleported?”

“Now you’re definitely fucking with me.”

“Hold your breath and close your eyes, we’re just going two blocks up.” He waited for her to do so, and in an instant they were standing at the entrance of his brownstone.

“Fuck,” she laughed as she briefly took in her surroundings before her eyes fluttered closed, her body going limp in his grasp.

“Fuck!” Loki shouted, sweeping her up into his arms before running into his home.

~~~

Chapter III here.

Author's Note: Seems like Loki did indeed push her a little too far... What do you guys think it'll take for her to regain her strength?

Thank you so much to everyone who read chapter I, I'm so glad you guys enjoyed the story and I hope you like this latest development!! Thankful to everyone who left a like, reblog or a comment- I loved reading through them a little too much. 🖤

I made a playlist for this series months ago when I was workshopping the idea. You can find it here!

Also, the lovely @literatureatthebowofnails made this lovely depiction of Thor's rules for Loki on Midgard. Thank you so much!!

I'll do my best to update this weekly- with posts out on Fridays at 6:30pm EST. Have a wonderful weekend!! 🖤🖤🖤

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I posted 1,087 times in 2022

That's 1,085 more posts than 2021!

564 posts created (52%)

523 posts reblogged (48%)

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I tagged 992 of my posts in 2022

Only 9% of my posts had no tags

#omswd - 518 posts

#reblogs - 384 posts

#rainiianswers - 272 posts

#om! mc - 190 posts

#obey me shall we date - 181 posts

#om! mammon - 144 posts

#om! lucifer - 108 posts

#om! brothers - 107 posts

#anon asks - 96 posts

#om! asmodeus - 91 posts

Longest Tag: 114 characters

#lucifer is only slightly mad mc would declare such a thing since he thinks only he should have a month for him lol

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

How would the brothers react to someone else saving MC from another demon? Maybe it would be their friend from RAD or just a passer by who saw MC nearly get attacked and decided to step it.

Then after they finish fighting, they turn to MC and ask if they need to go to the hospital or want aku-donalds on the way since "Well, some humans crave hamburgers after an injury... I think..."

Lucifer

When he felt your fear through the pact, he immediately set off to save you

He felt the fear dissipate, which worried him more

That worry turned into confusion as he saw you casually talking to a demon, with another demon passed out on the floor, but clearly still alive.

You see Lucifer approaching and you wave at him.

"Hey Luci!"

The demon tensed up and turns to see Lucifer, having a risen eyebrow as he stares holes into them

"L-Lord Lucifer! I swear I wasn't hurting MC!"

The eldest looks at you, to which you nod.

"Relax. I'm not going harm you."

"W-Wha-"

"You saved my.. reckless partner, you can go."

The person nods and quickly scurries off.

Lucifer proceeds to pick you up and set the demon who almost attacked you ablaze, carrying you home while blocking your view so you don’t see the demon being burned alive

Mammon

It didn’t take him long to get where you were

It took a minute to process the situation but immediately interjects between you and the demon, getting right up to their face

“Shoo, leave us alone”

You huff and pull him away.

“Mammon, don’t be like that! They saved me from being attacked”

He looks at the demon passed out and looks back at the demon who saved you

He tsks before looking away.

He was suppose to be your guardian..

What if this nice demon wasn’t there? What if you got hurt or worse..?

You noticed Mammon shaking lightly and you thank the kind demon before walking off with Mams in tow.

“Hey.. Mams, you alright?”

He simply pulls you into a hug and held you tightly

He didn’t want to lose you again.. He didn’t want to see you in pain again..

See the full post

208 notes - Posted June 30, 2022

#4

I have woke up today and choose angst. May I please ask for headcanons for the demon brothers reacting to MC saying this

Mc: You guys are the worst brothers I've ever seen. I don't know how Mammon puts up with all of you but I feel sorry, he should have never fallen with you guys and just stayed an angel. He would have a better life in Celestia without any of you, your all hypocrites and at least he never tried to kill me. He should have left you all to perish in the war

*Rubs hands together like an evil villain* Hehehe Oh I'm so glad you came to me

---

Short Story:

All week.

All week, MC has been hearing is constant insults directed at Mammon, and they were pissed. The fact that Mammon had come to them for comfort multiple times in a day this week just goes to show how much they have been treating Mammon like he was nothing but trash.

It was at dinner time that MC finally had enough. MC were hearing nothing but cruel jokes and insults, seeing Mammon try to defend himself every time, but quickly be shut up by Levi, Satan or Lucifer.

“You’re such a scum! I must’ve done something horrible to deserve a brother like you!”

“Silence!”

The pact command was enough to shut everyone up, as they all looked surprised and bewildered. Lucifer gave MC a glare, one they simply ignore. They go to take Mammon to his room. Before they left, a look of anger and pity wash over their face, showing just how disappointed they were in the brothers.

“You guys are the worst brothers I've ever seen. I don't know how Mammon puts up with all of you but I feel sorry,” They spat. “He should have never fallen with you guys and just stayed an angel.” Ouch.. That got some reactions, even from Mammon himself.

“He would have a better life in the Celestial Realm without any of you, you are all hypocrites and at least he never tried to kill me. He should have left you all to perish in the war.”

With that last icy line, MC dissolves the pact command and leads Mammon to his room, leaving everyone in shock of what just happened.

Reactions:

Lucifer

He was beyond shocked

Wasn’t sure whether to punish MC or just apologize

Maybe apologizing was best

But he certainly wasn’t able to do it right now

..Would Mammon really ended up better in the Celestial Realm?

Perhaps he would, but it was his decision to follow Lucifer..

Mammon had himself to blame for all the things he’s done.. right?

He was just trying to process everything they said as he gets up and walks to his office, dismissing everyone from dinner.

The prideful part of himself blamed Mammon, not claiming the responsibility of fucking him up.

But a small part of him did feel bad..

The fact they reminded him of the multiple murder attempts..

He knew that choosing Mammon as their protector was the best choice.

“Ugh.. What to do..?”

Mammon

See the full post

226 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

#3

Diavolo watching the news: Someone tried to fight a squid at the aquarium today! Mammon: *walks in covered with ink* Well, maybe the squid was being a dick.

237 notes - Posted May 25, 2022

#2

May I please ask headcanons for the demon bros reacting to Mammon giving them a a paper and saying this:

"I'll be moving out soon I got permission form Lord Diavolo and also some papers for you all to not come near or talk to me unless it's an important event. In short, we're no longer family, this good for you you guys since this is what you all wanted for so long."

A/N: Sorry if it’s not on par with some of my other Mammon angst, I hope you enjoy it regardless 😅Warnings: Anxiety/panic attack(?), ooc in some aspects ---

Short Story

It was dinner time, and everyone except Mammon was at the table. Everyone was wondering where he could be, his credit card was taken and the brothers thought he had no money as of now. Beel frowns and stares at Mammon's empty seat. Before he could say anything, the door opens and in came Mammon, with a stack of paper. "Mammon where were you?" Lucifer stood up. "At the castle." Mammon says dryly, giving him the papers. "I'll be moving out soon. I got permission form Lord Diavolo and also some papers for you all to not come near or talk to me unless it's an important event. In short, we're no longer family, this is good for you guys since this is what you all wanted for so long."

Reactions

Lucifer

Lucifer was impatiently tapping his foot as he waited for the second eldest to come home

Usually, he wouldn’t care as much, but Mammon has been going out lot lately and he couldn’t help but worry

When Mams does return, he tells Lucifer he was at the castle while handing him the documents

What Mammon said and what the papers read..

It was restraining orders and a few other important papers

He.. He was going to lose another sibling.. Just like that..

Lucifer should've expected this, he pushed Mammon too hard, he abused Mammon so much, he wasn't being a brother..

He could only watch as Mammon goes to his room, supposedly to pack his stuff up

As much as he wanted to convince Mammon to stay, he knew any attempt would end up being useless

He tensed and shook, spitefully gripping the papers he has been given

Lucifer failed as a brother..

Leviathan

Mammon being gone was normal for him

Maybe he has been dealing with witches for the past few days

The nervous looks his brothers were giving made him worry though

Everything is fine, Mammon is fine.. Right?

Levi perks up the minute Mammon came back

But what he said made him freeze with shock

Moving out..? Mammon was moving out?

And they are no longer family?!

After Mammon left, he shrunk in on himself

His vision blurred and his breathing became heavy

Levi was quick to excuse himself and go back to his room, grab a weighted blanket and just hope all of this is a bad nightmare..

See the full post

249 notes - Posted October 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Crows Habits | MC x Mammon?? |

A/N: I haven't been able to write a lot and overall I've just been really tired so have this because I was actually motivated today It's not so much "MC x Mammon" as I would of liked but oh well -------

You were in the human world, walking through the park with a bag of breadcrumbs as usual, hoping to find the crows that you usually fed when up here, surely enough they were on trees near the private bench area you chose to sit at. When you began dropping the breadcrumbs for the near crows, you're reminded of Mammon, crows were his animal after all, so it's hard not to be reminded of him. You hear a chirp beside you on the left side and looked down, noticing it was a crow with some shiny things, coins, rings and keys.  Picking the items up to investigate them, you remembered reading a book on crows habits and facts and realizing they were very much like the things Mammon did. "Crows understand the concept of gifts" A small smile snuck itself onto your lips, must be gifts for feeding them, even if you don't get the chance everyday since you're usually up in the Devildom. Like this crow, Mammon often gives you gifts even if you don't give something first, he's sometimes proud of the gift and other times he would just completely deny it while looking away. After admiring the things the crows gave you and giving a small thank you, you noticed there were a bunch of crows flocking near you to be fed, which you happily did as you remembered another crow fact that you read. "Crows remember who has been kind to them and tells other crows about the nice humans." Similar to Mammon, he often gets a chance to brag about what a nice human you are, even to the other brothers or exchange students. Of course that lead to other demons wanting to get to know you, either to take advantage of you or just genuinely get to know you, it became obvious after a while. You noticed after a while that different crows had different accents and dialect as you heard them cawing and making other sounds to communicate with other crows, once again reminding you of that accent Mammon has. "Feedin' crows, are ya?" You turn to look behind you and saw the shaggy white haired guy himself.  "What are you doing here?" "Somethin' through the pact told me ya were thinkin' about me" "Yes, I was, Mams" You kiss his cheek as you continue feeding the murder of crows, finding it a bit cute how much he flushed up from that unexpected kiss on the cheek. "Well uhm-" He clears his throat. "...I was thinkin' about you too.." He quietly admits. "Aww, really?" "Y-Yea.." "Well, do you want to help me feed the crows before you go back" "Sure, got nothin' better to do."

286 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

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[fallensimeon]

Take Me For A Ride (NSFW 18+)

A spicy F!MC x Mammon smut mixed with a little angst and fluff, my first time trying out writing! Don’t judge too harshly, I tried my best y’know!

Topic warnings: F!MC, angst, smut, fluff, intercourse, car sex, fellatio, rough play (nearly BDSM-ish), biting, blood, curse words, yelling, dirty talking. Read at your own risk! 

Words: 5,419

Y/N has enough of the brothers attacking Mammon, and comforts him when he needs her the most. One thing leads to another, and, well... let’s just say they go for the ride of a lifetime.

18+! MINORS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!

If you like my work, please feel free to like, comment, follow, share, or REBLOG. Thank you for taking the time to read my first piece!

It was a gloomy day down in the Devildom, just one of those days where tensions were high in the House of Lamentation. You were in your room, having just completed your homework so you began studying for a test coming up in the next few days. You had a good feeling you were going to ace it, so you began to organize your books and papers and stash them away in your bag.

You were tired. You had felt overworked as of late, always having work to do, or having one of the brothers drag you into one of their troubles as usual. But today? Nobody had reached out. Everyone had seemed so distant from one another. That wasn’t normal, it was always loud in the house no matter where you went. The fact that it was so quiet for once was shocking.

You finished packing up your school supplies and leaned your backpack against your desk in your room. You just wanted to relax, so you decided to ease your chest and arms comfortably onto your desk and scroll through Devilgram for a while. Looking through the brothers’ profiles always put a smile on your face, because they sometimes posted the most hilarious pictures. However, you found yourself on Mammon’s profile for the longest. 

He was a model, of course he was stunning. Perfectly-tanned skin, luscious snow white locks gracing his head, the most beautiful blue eyes that almost glowed gold. You could never tell him how you really felt, he would just push you away. Plus, there was probably some model out there who was after him already anyways. Why would Mammon want to be with some weak human?

You jumped slightly as a text notification popped up on your screen.

“Dinner is ready, please make your way to the dining hall. You wouldn’t want Beel to get to your plate first,” Lucifer sent. You chuckled and began to make your way down to have dinner. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be as awkward as it was earlier that day.

You make it down to the dining hall, not a single of the brothers making eye contact with you. You froze in your tracks. You can’t lie, that hurt a little bit, you figured at least one of them might greet you.

♡

“Good to see you, Y/N. Come, take a seat. I know you have been working hard up there, you need to eat well,” Lucifer stated, a slight smile on his face. He was glad that at least one of you was focused on your studies that day.

You smiled, finally someone broke the awkward silence. “Thank you Lucifer.”

You made your way around the long table to find an open seat. Your heart fluttered as you walked your way past Mammon, smelling the arousing scent of his cologne waft past your face. You smiled and let out a low but happy sigh, and he looked up for just a second having heard you, a light blush on his face. “Y’know I don’t bite, you can come sit next to me human,” Mammon said lightly, making eye contact with you for the first time that day.

You felt a shudder run down your spine. His voice is so alluring, you could listen to it all day every day. A blush forms on your cheeks as you take a seat next to him.

Everyone around you is surprisingly in their own conversations with one another, which is pretty odd after earlier. Although, you were happy to hear the voices of all of your favorite people around the room. You couldn’t dare to complain, it was nice seeing everyone let go of the awkward tension that had previously filled the House of Lamentation. This, however, was short-lived.

You were almost done with your dinner, only a few forkfuls left, when you heard an argument start. “Oh great, here we go again,” you thought to yourself as you looked up to see Lucifer standing up behind Mammon. You didn’t have a good feeling about this.

“You worthless scumbag, what did you do with my new Ruri-chan figure?!” Levi yelled, close enough to Mammon’s face to spit on him whilst speaking.

“My new perfume went missing too, I bet it had something to do with that idiot,” Asmo shouted across the table at him, a sour glare on his face.

“Come to think of it, my new mystery novel went missing last night, I was going to read it but I couldn’t find it,” Satan added to the fire.

The twins began to spew on about how much of a moron Mammon was, him having done nothing to either of them. Lucifer began to holler at Mammon about every little thing he finds wrong when you realize that was the last straw. You weren’t going to sit there and let everyone torment the demon that meant most to you. You looked over at Mammon, trembling in his seat, trying to hold back tears as his brothers kept pushing him further and further over the edge. He looked like he could break at any second. You know for a fact he didn’t take anyone’s things, he was with you all day yesterday. It couldn’t have been him.

“KNOCK IT OFF, ALL OF YOU! BACK OFF! I THINK HE’S HAD ENOUGH ALREADY!” you shouted at the top of your lungs. The boys all froze in shock and fear, never expecting that out of you. Tears began to stream down your face. You never thought you would see the day that you would have to break up an argument, especially when the only people Mammon trusted were his brothers. Seeing them all treat him like shit made you angry  and upset.

“Y/N...” Lucifer sighed and began to speak, but you weren’t going to give him the chance to continue.

“C’mon Mammon, you don’t deserve this, let’s get out of here,” you gently took hold of Mammon’s hand and dragged him away from the table towards his bedroom. The dining hall fell completely silent once again.

♡

You make it all the way to Mammon’s bedroom door when he stops you in your tracks, pulling your arm back towards him lightly. You turn around to see his cheeks burning red, the tears that formed earlier finally starting to come down his face. He looked somewhat relieved, somewhat embarrassed at the same time. He just barely lifted his head to look you in the eyes.

“You didn’t have to go and do that for me human, ya know I can’t handle m’self, right? I-I just needed to think of what t’say...” he said softly, not enough confidence in his voice for you to believe it for a second.

He was shaking, more so than when he usually gets yelled at. You gently let go of his hand and lifted your hand to cup his right cheek, brushing away his tears with your thumb. He felt so warm.

“Mammoney, I wasn’t just going to sit there and let them stomp all over you like that. They have NO evidence to prove that you took anything from them, but they kept going anyway. I’m so sick of their bullshit, watch them find all of their things that they misplaced themselves. I hope they hate themselves for treating you like that.” You loosened your hand from his cheek and tucked your body against his, arms wrapped around his warm shoulders, bringing him in for a cozy embrace.

This broke him. He leaned into your embrace, the tears streaming down his face as he sobbed into the crook of your neck. The two of you stood in a hug for at least 2 minutes straight, neither of you daring to break away. It just felt so nice, you never wanted to let go.

“Th-thank you Y/N, I’m glad you trust me enough t’know I wouldn’t steal their boring stuff. Why would I need Asmo’s perfume, let alone Satan’s book? Y’know, I-I wonder if they think before they point f-fingers like that. C’mon human, let’s get inside, I just w-wanna relax.” Mammon explains with the slightest blushy grin on his face. He opens the door to let you in first, and closes it behind him.

You had never been in Mammon’s room before, he’s never let you in before now. Your eyes scanned around the room, in awe of how cozy it was. His plush leather sofa and a mahogany wood pool table beside it, bottles of alcohol and a few grimm strewn across it. He has a projector rather than a television, two speakers beside the coffee table below it. He has an open concept closet, adorned with studio lights, and his bed pressed flush on the other side of the wall. His room has two floors, the only things up there being his entryway door... and a car? How did he get this in here? What kind of car was it? How interesting. Rather than walking down the stairs as Mammon was expecting you to do, you made your way towards his car and leaned against the hood.

“Is this your car? It’s so amazing! I can’t imagine how much money you must have put into this beauty,” you exclaimed, being somewhat an admirer of cars, having been raised by your father who’s life revolves around them. You grazed your hand over the headlights and the grill along the front, a glint in your eyes from the spotlights shining down on you and the car.

Mammon was standing next to the door, choked up to say the very least. He was blushing furiously, gripping into his lush white hair with his hand, head tilted down and giggling. “Y’mean my Demonia? It’s nothing really, Lucifer helped me get it a while back once I got my license. Pretty cool right? Of course the Great Mammon is cool!” he chuckled, barely able to keep eye contact with you. The truth was, the car meant a lot to him and it did cost a lot, but he couldn’t focus on that right now. He was too busy staring you down, lights glistening against your soft skin, looking oh-so-hot leaned up against his car like that. Little did you know you were his treasure, he admired you every second he got, whether you realized it or not. He began to walk over to you, leaning next to you on the hood, resting his hand softly against yours, interlocking fingers with you.

Needless to say, you were surprised. You jumped slightly at his touch, hesitant to move. You returned the favor regardless, locking your fingers between his, the warmth of his body flushing through your veins, instantly calming you. He means everything to you, and now this? How can you not tell him how you feel now? This was the best opportunity you could get your hands on. You let go of his hand and made your way off of the hood of the car, locked his bedroom door, dimmed his lights slightly, and made your way back over to him. You inched closer to him, barely hugging distance away.

He was looking up at you softly, still blushing. He was shaking a little bit, but you were too, of course. Now was your chance. It was now or never. Either you tell him how you feel now, or hold it in and never find out if your feelings are reciprocated. Your heart was ready to burst out of your chest, but you couldn’t hold back any longer.

♡

“Mammon, you know I care about you... more than myself sometimes, if I’m being honest. Any time I see you enter the room or my eyes meet up with you, I get tons of butterflies inside. You make me feel like I’m not just some useless human that nobody likes. You make me feel special, and I just want you to know that... I love you. I’m in love with you...” you paused, too nervous to continue.

Mammon.exe has stopped working. You... love HIM? The moron, the idiot, the scumbag? You deserve better, but he can’t deny how he really feels. His brothers aren’t anywhere around, so now’s his chance.

“I-human I... I love you too. Y’mean everything to me. I can’t stand seeing my brothers eyeing you up and taking all of my time with ya away from me. You’re MY human... my... my treasure. You deserve better than me, I’m just some lousy good-for-nothi-” he couldn’t speak anymore. You held him by his cheeks and pulled his face to yours, kissing him on his lips. The first tender moment shared between the two of you, your first kiss. He sits still for a moment before realizing what’s happening, leaning into your kiss and holding you by your waist. Your chests graze against one another as the kiss turns more passionate. Mammon slides his tongue against your lips asking for permission before you slide your tongue in between his. You felt higher than a kite at that moment, the butterflies seemingly flying out through the top of your head.

Before long, you were straddling his lap on the hood of his car, breathing into his neck as he planted kisses along your collarbone, nibbling at you and caressing your lower back. You both pulled away from each other to look into each others’ eyes.

“So this is really happening huh?” you blush and look down, feeling a tad bit shy. Mammon brings his hand up to your cheek, some of his fingers lacing into your hair. “We don’t have to do anything ya don’t wanna do, but first...” he places his hands lovingly on your hips and looks into your eyes. “I want you to be mine and only mine, ya hear? No mackin’ on my brothers or anythin’... you’re MY treasure. Well, if you’ll let me have ya...” he starts blushing too, barely able to keep his eyes on you. The words you have been waiting to hear, that you’re HIS and only his... it makes you melt. You hold onto his hips, and lean in to whisper into his ear. “Of course I’m yours, and only yours. You can have all of me if you want it, and I mean ALL of me...” you whisper and nibble on his earlobe, a smirk forming across your face.

He can’t hold back anymore. He slams his mouth against yours in the most passionate kiss, moaning against your lips and pulling you in closer, pressing you against his chest. His hands start to slip under your shirt, making their way up your bare back until he reaches about midway. He looks at you as if he’s asking permission, to which you respond by grazing your hands over his upper thighs. You lean in once again to whisper sensually, “So have you ever done it in your car?”

♡

His excitement cannot be contained, his body heats up hotter as the bulge in his pants grows harder. Without another word, Mammon scoots off of the car, grabbing you underneath your thighs and carrying you into the backseat of his car, placing you gently while he pushes the seats back and reclining them back further. The open space has grown larger. He climbs his way into the car and shuts the door behind him, hovering over you.

He doesn’t waste any time before he starts to undress you. He slips your uniform jacket off followed by your tank top, revealing your black lace bralette. You whisper in his ear “You like that? I bet you’ll like it more when you see the panties I have to match.”

You set off a fire in his chest, a low growl seeping out from his throat. He sheds his uniform jacket and tears off his undershirt, a huge ripping noise emerging, making you increasingly wet as the tension increases. His bare chest is a glorious sight to behold... so sexy and strong, so protective.

He pushes you back against the seat and makes room to slide off your uniform pants, whilst you slide your shoes off and kick them into the passenger seat beside you. He makes his way down to your feet, carefully sliding off your socks which he notices have a grimm pattern on them, and slyly smirks. His eyes scan your exposed skin from your head to your toes and back up, revving him up even more.

♡

He begins to kiss you from your feet, up your calves and your thighs, until he reaches your inner thighs. Your black lace panties meet his face, becoming more and more flushed. He slides his hands up to the waistband and toys with the lace, planting his face against the fabric. That smell... the smell of arousal... it’s so strong. He could only imagine how wet you are for him. He looks up at you and you nod, giving permission to continue.

Mammon growls and grabs your waistband with his teeth, the sound of tearing lace floods the car. You moan in response, wishing you could hear him like this all the time. Your hands reach down to your now exposed heat and stroke the lips, shining from how slick he made you. Mammon’s eyes start shining, staring down as if he’s a predator who’s just hunted down his prey. He licks his lips and flashes his teeth, slight fangs showing. You spread your lips for him and make your legs more comfortable, inviting him to take a taste.

“Mn... you’re so perfect Y/N, so wet for me, I can almost taste it,” he leans down and begins lapping his tongue at your clit. Shudders run up and down your spine from the senastion, bringing out a sensual moan from your chest, back arching. Mammon grips onto your thighs and holds them open. He drags his tongue up and down your opening, sliding it inside of you. He moans into you, admiring how you taste, your flavor. He makes his way back up to your clit, the tip of his tongue dancing around it. He looks up and you and smirks, sliding two fingers inside of you, pulsing them in and out at a steady pace, curling his fingertips from time to time. You can’t help but let out a moan, never having felt so stimulated and so turned-on before.

“M-Mammon... p-p-please... k-keep going b-baby...” you moaned out as he brought you closer and closer to your orgasm. Did you just call him your baby? Oh, he heard that. He wants to hear it again. He pulses his fingers inside you faster and faster, sucking on your clit, giving you no mercy. The heat inside of you is unbearable. You begin to buck your hips against his face and grab him by the hair, pushing him against your heat, your other hand gripping tightly against the leather seat below you,

It was taking everything Mammon had to not whip himself out and slam himself into you, but he had to make himself more comfortable. As he continued, he used his left hand to undo his pants, releasing his bulge hidden by his boxers. He was only getting harder as you moaned his name again and again.

“I’m... I’m gonna.. gaaaAAAHH!” you moaned out as you reached your orgasm, letting your grip loose from his hair as your body let go of the tension. Mammon laps his tongue down to clean up the mess you made. He gathers some on his tongue, looking up to you with his tongue sticking out, when he suddenly takes it into his mouth and swallows you.

He notices the flaming blush that adorns your cheeks. He brings himself up, sitting on your thighs, his bulge prominent. You stare down his body, glazed in sweat, realizing he lapsed into his demon form as you came down from your orgasm. His horns were shining, wings folded against his back as the car wasn’t a big enough space to let them free. You were positioned on the driver’s side back passenger’s seat, so you decided to slide into the center seat. You reach your hands to touch Mammon’s back, stroking his wings ever so gently. He moans in response, realizing he’s sensitive there. You begin to help guide them open as he leans into you. They fly open and block the whole view out of the windshield, darkening the space between you.

♡

Your hands come down to meet his waistband, tugging on it carefully. You look up into Mammon’s eyes, he can see the desire written over your face. He makes his bulge dance in response, prompting you to go for it. You drag down his boxers and out springs his length, glistening from his precum. It looks so tasty. You lean back in your seat to where you are practically laying down, gripping behind his thighs and urging him to come forward. He was on his knees, his length shadowing over your chest, his tip just barely against your lips. You hold yourself up by your elbows, turning up to him, teasing him “I bet you want your cock in my mouth, don’t you Mammon? You want to see your fragile human squirm under you, taking all of you inside of them?”

Oh, you did it now. His claws getting ever so longer as a growl comes from deep in his chest. “If you want it, show me just how badly,” your last words as he gripped your hair and pushed your mouth around his length, letting out a choke. He moaned in pleasure as he felt himself at the back of your throat, vibrations coming from you barely fitting him inside you. Mammon begins thrusting his hips back and forth, you sucking up on his length oh-so-perfectly. The smell of arousal and the sound of moans fill the car, enveloping both of you. All either of you can feel is bliss. He breaks the silence. 

“Y-Y/N... y-you’re so warm, ya s-suck me off so well, k-keep going, I’m getting close-” He can’t speak anymore, feeling the surge of pleasure rush up through his thighs as you swirl your tongue around him, bringing him to the edge. You pull your mouth off of his length and put his hand around it, urging him to get himself off. “I would love if the Great Mammon would cum for me, I want to feel it all over my face, I want you to make me yours, show me who owns me,” you moan up at him, pulling down your bra to release your warm breasts, toying with them to tease him.

“Oh f-fuck, y-you’re all mine, my treasure, my b-baby, I’m.. I’m...” he groans out, and he’s pushed over the edge. He bucks forward, letting out a deep deep growl, moaning your name and climaxing all over your face and your chest, his cum hot against your skin. He looks down at you taking his load and lets out another groan, watching as you lap it up with your fingertips, eventually licking them clean.

♡

He pushes you down against the leather seats, his length rubbing against your throbbing heat, aching for you. You let out a squeal from your sensitivity, your chest arching up towards him. You reach your hands down to try to push him into you but he stops you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them down above your head. He pushes his lips firmly against yours, exploring your mouth with his tongue. Your chests are touching, he’s just about burning you with the heat radiating from his body.

He pulls away from your face and looks down to you, it looks like he wants to say something. He looks... nervous? After all of that?

“Mammon, are you okay?” you asked gently, turning your head slightly, a smile on your face. “Y-yeah, I just don’t wanna hurt ya. I tried to open ya up for me but what if it’s too much for your human body to handle?” he sighs and stares away for a moment. He loosens the grip on your wrists and you cup both of his cheeks, whispering up at him softly, “I trust you with my life, Mammon. I feel so safe with you, you’re my protector. The Great Mammon. I promise if it’s too much I’ll tell you right away. It’s okay baby.”

He nods and smiles with a blush in response, he couldn’t be happier to hear you say those words to him, as unexpected as they are.

You spread open your legs for him, situating your body in a more comfortable spot, preparing for the time of your life. You lift yourself up with your hands and whisper into his ear, “Take me for a ride, won’t you?”

♡

He growls and stretches his arms and his back, preparing himself. You want a ride? A ride is what you’re gonna get, and it’s gonna be a bumpy one.

He picks up your bottom half by your thighs, dragging you towards him, putting you in the perfect position. He takes hold of his length and lines himself up with your opening, rubbing his tip up and down your heat. You squirm under him, pleading with him in your head, dying for him to give you what you’ve only dreamed of for nearly a year now. He hears you struggling and lets out a low chuckle, a bit evil. He likes to see you all worked up for him, there’s nothing better, honestly.

He begins sliding his length inside of you, the heat from within immediately making him jolt. He can’t help the arousal from feeling you around him, squeezing him tight. You let out a small whimper and look up to him, concern suddenly written all over his face.

Your wrists had been freed a while ago so you take this opportunity to grab onto his soft bottom, pushing him further into you, moaning right in his ear. It hurts... it hurts so good. He’s so big compared to you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he hits the deepest parts of you. You must have awakened something in him, the look in his eyes giving him an almost primal vibe. He leans down and whispers into your ear along with a growl “That’s a good human, take all of me inside of ya, scream my name, ‘m gonna fuck you so hard ya won’t walk for a week...”

He thrusts in and out of you at a fast pace, hitting your core over and over again. You’re both moaning and groaning into each others’ ears. Mammon grips hard onto the headrests of the seats, pounding into you like it’s his last day to live. Your hands grasping at his shoulders, you can’t help but claw your nails down, leaving red scratches all over his back. He almost hisses in response, causing you to moan out louder. He takes his right hand and brings it to your throat, silencing you. Your eyes roll back into your head once again, your back arching and your hands gripping tight against the leather seats, nearly ripping them open.

♡

His thrusts speed up, bringing you closer and closer to the biggest orgasm of your life. Mammon's hand around your throat, you try to let out a sentence, “Mammoney baby, I’m gonna c-cum for you, p-please, d-don’t hold back,” you managed to say. His face goes beat red and wings flutter behind him. 

You stroke his horns atop his head, barely letting out one last sentence. “F-fill me up with your cum, m-mark your t-territory, I’m a-all yours-” your sentence is cut off as your orgasm takes over your body, Mammon releasing your throat, you proceeding to scream his name in pleasure as you gripped his length inside of you, trying to juice him.

He pounds his length into you faster and faster, bringing himself to the edge of his climax. He can’t hold back, can’t speak. He brings his head down to bite your neck, leaving teeth marks and a little bit of blood afterwards, marking you as his. He sucks on his marking and groans out loudly in pleasure, unable to contain himself any longer. You can feel his length twitch as he fills you up inside, heating the inner walls of your core, giving you the most butterflies you’ve ever had.

♡

You both look down and giggle along with deep breaths, you did a number to the seats of his car. You look at him in worry as he sees the condition of the leather. He notices that you look scared so he holds you tight to him, body-to-body warmth between you.

“I can already tell what you’re ‘bout to say, and it’s alright. Y’mean more to me than some leather seats. Now I can look at my seats ‘n remember my first time with ya, amirite?” he says with a smile, placing the most gentle of kisses on your lips, glazed with sweat.

You go to try to stand up to get out of the car but your body is beyond it’s limits. Mammon notices you struggling to get up and chuckles. “I told ya you wouldn’t be able t’walk for a while.”

♡

He pulls his boxers back on and picks you up bridal style out of the car seat, carrying you down the stairs and onto his bed gently. He remembers tearing up your underwear so he dashes to his closet, finding one of his favorite t-shirts and a pair of pajama pants and swiftly bringing them over to the bed.

“Put these on, we don’t need ya walking out with stains on your uniform and no underwear,” he explains with a giggle. He looked up at you to see you looking sad. “What’sa matter treasure?”

“Well, I was hoping... maybe... that I could stay with you for the night?” you ask, nervously waiting for a response. Mammon helps you take off your bralette and get dressed in his comfy clothes, and cups your cheek, looking into your eyes.

“Of course y’can stay with me, you’re my human! My treasure! Who wouldn’t wanna stay with the Great Mammon anyway?” he smirks and chuckles, you smacking his chest in return.

He crawls up into the bed with you, laying you next to him and pulling your back into his chest. He covers you both with his bedspread and begins rubbing your arms, resting his cheek against your ear. He had never felt this way before. He really fell for a human. Does he regret it? Not at all, he wouldn’t have it any other way. The only problem now? Now he feels like he has to protect you forever, all the time. He loves you too much to ever see you get hurt.

“S-so... does this mean... y-you’re my girlfriend?” Mammon let out shyly, almost expecting you to say something negative or reject him.

You turn back to face him, your arm around his waist. You smile up at him, “I would love nothing more than to be your girlfriend... your treasure.” You plant the lightest kiss on his forehead and turn back around as he begins to spoon you again. Within the next few minutes, you fell asleep in his arms, not a care in the world, no thoughts besides the thought of being his treasure forever.

♡

The brothers felt bad about what happened earlier and were worried about Mammon’s well-being. Lucifer approached his door with the brothers, quickly realizing it’s locked. He took his master keys out of his coat pocket and unlocked Mammon’s door. He took a few steps in and froze in place. His brothers glanced with him over his shoulder to see Mammon with his arms around you, protecting you, sleeping next to you.

They all couldn’t bring themselves to make a sound. They couldn’t believe their eyes. Y/N... and Mammon?

“It’s about time he told her how he felt!” Asmo shouted as the brothers all shushed him, not wanting to wake the two of you.

“We can talk to him in the morning, let him have peace for once today. I can only imagine Y/N needs rest as well,” Lucifer explained.

Lucifer and the brothers turned around and Lucifer locked the door behind him, a cheeky smirk on his face. He was proud of his brother for finally being honest with himself and taking pride in what he wanted. Would he ever let Mammon know that? Oh, hell no.

♡

I’ve wanted to see a fic about this ever since I fell in love with Mammon and saw his room, so I wrote it!

 I’m only comfortable with F!MC writing since I’ve never familiarized myself with GN!MC or M!MC. My apologies!

I do NOT give permission to post this anywhere else. I also have this posted on Wattpad, my username is daradoodlebug. If you like my work, please feel free to like, comment, follow, share, or REBLOG. Thank you for taking the time to read my first piece!