#shenanigans i tell ya

[misty-moth]

Saw this in my recommended and like… if you weren’t in the fandom, you would absolutely not believe that these are 3 different characters 🤨

[lavend3r-stardust]

That thing they do when they run their dick along your cunt and leave you anticipating when you're gonna be all fucked out just from the tip rubbing against your clit, pressing itself against your holes but not pushing inside you . . . Not just yet . . . They wanna draw it outta you, drag out every last orgasm from your throbbing little pussy and feel you clench around nothing as you whimper and beg them to fuck you, rocking your hips so something more than the head of their dick can fill you up

[xenomorphicdna]

On the string propaganda

Heeellll yeah

Bestie is an entire PLACE

I look at those guys and let me tell you the soul of that thing ain't just in the puppet, it's in all the neurons carrying the thoughts and emotions, it's in the power rails that serve as the heart. All the memories in the memory conflux and all the numbers we see flicker across displays, the flux condensers, the puppet; a little avatar.

No way these massive machines see life the same way we do. They have their own experiences and senses and things they hold dear. A world we can't imagine, a way of living we couldn't even comprehend.

I could never tear an iterator apart to be just a puppet. Who am I to decide how's life supposed to be enjoyed or perceived?

You treat your creechurs however you want- I ain't gonna dictate that. But damn, hearing the thrums and buzzes of the linear systems rail? They are alive with so much power, these mechanical beasts are exactly what they should be.

[kindred-spirit-93]

gooooood morning!!!

good afternoon!!

[sn0wbat]

sometimes u just gotta paint a tiny heroforge miniature of one of ur most beloved OCs

anyway so this is einarr!! my ancient vampire viking man ♡♡♡

he's so tiny here lol

[mistymoth]

Another manhwa posted its last chapter today 🥲 and it was uh… rushed 😭 the most interesting part of the story they were building up to was “what will happen to the characters after the dust settles?” but instead it wrapped up “they battled, won, and lived happily ever after buhbye gtfo ✌️😜”

I guess they just… don’t get repercussions? Consequences perhaps? An explanation?? 😫 they didn’t even talk at the end, the fl was just like I sensed that everyone I care about is okay now😌

[primordialruin]

I just imagine how fascinated she was in Eden whenever she bled

Lilith: Adam, look *squeezes just below the wound* it's INCREASING

Adam: wow *gets hurt too* OW

Lilith: Yeah, that's what I said!!!

[helreginn]

@thegreatstrongbow asked:

Send me a “OH MY!” for your muse to accidently walk in on my muse naked.

With enough care and patience, Hel's hair was long and thick enough she could fashion a dress from the honey gold wefts of it.

She sure wished it could cover the parts of her body he was immediately privvy to. But she had pulled her hair back to better access the curves and and shapes of her body with the damp cloth. It was not the steaming and welcome bath of Doriath's wellspring, but it was the best she could do on a journey's long end.

Her hand and the cloth had just dipped between her and beneath her left breast as the door to her room swung open and she froze, eyes wide and horrified.

Nudity and being exposed didn't much matter to Hel. What need have the Ainur of self esteem issues? Or even propriety. To be precise, or technical, at least, Hel was not undressed.

She was simply bare.

And he? He was met with the slap of a cold and dirty wet rag to his cheek before he could so much as utter the word, "Gosh."

"Occupied!" She yelled loudly, placing the leg previously propped on the bed to the floor. "GET OUT!"

[cryptidofthekeys]

btw been playing pokemon legends arceus a lot recently again and i fucking adore that game so much fr

[sparrowsfallingfromthesky]

Got these texts from Kate earlier and then my phone sent me another notification for "He fucked his AI." Like it just had to be emphasized!

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴀ ғᴀʟsᴇ ᴀʟᴛᴇʀ

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Marcus Acacius x F!reader | WC : 8.5k | Proof read : YES | Navigation | Notifications | series masterlist

Summary : Your father is fed up with your shenanigans, so he arranges a marriage to Rome's famous general and gladiator, Marcus Acacius.

Warnings: DUB-CON (Forced/Arranged marriage) SMUT, LOSS OF VIRGINITY, unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), Oral F and M, Implied age gap, Scars, Misogyny, Spitting, both give switch vibes,

A/n : I put a dub-con warning just because it is a forced/arranged marriage also ty and enjoy @multiversed-daydreamer for listening to me yap about this all day luv ya 💕

The table was set, lit, and ready for a feast. Grapes, wine, cheese, and meats lined the table. Being the daughter of a powerful general had its perks, not that you liked the kind of life you had. You understood you were privileged, your place in society clear. You knew that if it weren't for your father's position, you would probably be a slave to the hierarchy. But it didn't mean you had to like your life.

You were 18 and shockingly unmarried—not that you cared. You had more fun sneaking away to the parties that would happen late at night. You were happy for the fact you weren't tied down yet. The thrill of escaping your father's watchful eye and diving into the forbidden world of Rome's underground festivities made your heart race.

You had a reputation, one that was far from ladylike. Wild child, they called you, and you wore it like a badge of honor. You knew what sex was, what things happened in the dark corners of those parties, but you were still a virgin. Your knowledge came from observation, whispers, and the daring escapades you had witnessed, but you hadn't crossed that final threshold. Not yet.

Your father, a stern and formidable general, was a man who worked with gladiators and other powerful figures in Rome. His influence was vast, and his expectations were high. He had grown increasingly frustrated with you lately, and you couldn't quite understand why. His annoyance with your antics was palpable, but there was something more, something beneath the surface that gnawed at him.

As you sat there, wine goblet in hand, you sipped slowly, savoring the taste. You knew he would tell you to only have a single glass, a rule you delighted in bending. The door to the grand hall burst open, and there he was, your father, his expression a storm of irritation and something deeper, something darker.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice echoing through the hall. "Drinking again?"

You looked up at him, feigning innocence. "Just a single glass, Father, as you always insist."

His eyes narrowed, and he crossed the room with swift, purposeful strides. "You think I don't know what you get up to, do you? Sneaking out, causing trouble. Do you have any idea how this reflects on me? On our family?"

You sighed, placing the goblet down. "I know, Father. But you can't keep me locked away forever. I'm not a child anymore."

He stood before you, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. "You're my daughter, and you will behave with the dignity and decorum befitting your station."

You met his gaze, unflinching. "And what if I don't want that life? What if I want to be free, to make my own choices?"

His frustration seemed to boil over, and for a moment, you thought he might explode. But then, he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You don't understand the dangers out there. The people I deal with—the gladiators, the politicians—they're not like the ones at your little parties. They're dangerous."

You softened slightly, sensing the genuine worry behind his anger. "Then tell me, Father. Explain why you're so frustrated lately. What aren't you telling me?"

He hesitated, the walls he had built around himself momentarily crumbling. "It's complicated," he finally said, his voice quieter. "There are threats... to our family, to our position. I'm trying to protect you, even if it doesn't seem like it."

You reached out, touching his arm. "I want to understand. Help me see what you see."

He looked down at your hand, then back at your face, a mixture of anger and sorrow in his eyes. "Maybe it's time you did," he said, his voice resigned. "But you must promise me, you'll be careful. This world is not as kind as you think."

You nodded, determination filling your chest. "I promise, Father. I'll be careful. But I won't be caged."

Your father's expression hardened once more, and the momentary softness disappeared. He sat down at the table, grabbing a handful of grapes and popping one into his mouth. "Enough. This isn't up for discussion," he snapped. "You are to be married."

Your heart plummeted. "Married? To whom?"

His eyes were cold as steel. "To a man who can protect you, who can secure our family's future."

You jumped to your feet, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. "No! I don't want to be married off like some piece of property. I won't do it!"

He towered over you, his presence suffocating. "You have no choice. This is for your own good."

"Who is it then?" you demanded, your voice rising in defiance. "Is it Lucius? That lecherous old man who can't keep his hands to himself?"

Your father shook his head, his jaw clenched. "No, not Lucius."

"Is it Gaius, then?" you asked, pacing around the table, barely noticing your father grabbing a slice of cheese and eating it with deliberate calmness. "The pompous fool who thinks he's the smartest man in Rome but can't even string a coherent sentence together without tripping over his own ego?"

"Not Gaius."

"Then it must be Quintus! The brute who only knows how to solve problems with his fists, who would treat me like a possession rather than a person."

"No, it isn't Quintus either," your father snapped, his patience wearing thin. He took a deep drink from his own goblet, trying to steady himself.

"Who then? Who could possibly be suitable in your eyes?" you spat, your desperation clear.

Your father took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's Marcus Acacius."

The name sent a jolt through you, and you took an involuntary step back. Marcus Acacius, a name whispered in both awe and fear throughout Rome. A man known for his prowess in the arena and his cunning outside it. A man with a reputation as cold and unyielding as stone.

"Marcus Acacius?" you echoed, disbelief coloring your tone. "You can't be serious. He's a gladiator, a killer."

"He's more than that," your father insisted. "He's powerful, respected, and capable of protecting you from the dangers you don't even know exist."

You shook your head, your mind reeling. "No, Father. You can't do this to me. I won't marry him."

"You will," he said firmly. "And you will do it for our family, for our future."

You felt the walls closing in, the life you had known slipping away. You slumped back into your chair, staring at the untouched food before you. "What if... what if I've already been with someone else?" you blurted out, hoping to find some way out of this nightmare.

Your father's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "Have you been taken by another lover?"

You hesitated, the lie heavy on your tongue, but the fear of his wrath kept you silent. "No," you finally admitted, defeated.

"Then it's settled," he said, the finality in his voice chilling. "You will marry Marcus Acacius, and you will do so with dignity."

Tears of frustration and anger welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. "I won't be happy, Father. Not with him, not with this life."

He reached out, a rare gesture of tenderness, and touched your cheek. "Happiness is a luxury we can't afford," he said softly. "But safety, security—that is something I can give you."

You pulled away, the weight of his decision crushing your spirit. "I don't want to be safe. I want to be free."

His hand fell to his side, and his eyes hardened once more. "Freedom is an illusion, my daughter. And you will learn that soon enough."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the grand hall, the weight of your impending marriage pressing down on you like a vice.

Rage bubbled up inside you, a seething mass of frustration and helplessness. The weight of your father's words pressed down on you like a heavy shroud, suffocating your spirit. With a sudden, violent motion, you swept your arm across the dining table, sending grapes, cheese, and meats crashing to the floor. The wine goblet toppled, spilling dark red liquid like blood across the pristine tablecloth.

Breathing heavily, you glared at the mess you had created, but it did nothing to alleviate the fury burning within you. Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the grand hall, your footsteps echoing through the marble corridors.

You reached your room, slamming the door behind you. The silence was oppressive, the walls closing in as your mind raced. You had to get out. You couldn't marry Marcus Acacius. You couldn't be trapped in a life you didn't choose, a life that would suffocate the very essence of who you were.

You paced the room, the dim light from the oil lamps casting flickering shadows on the walls. Your eyes darted around, searching for a solution, a way out of this nightmare. Your thoughts turned to your mother, a fleeting glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness.

Your mother had been sent to the countryside years ago, a decision made by your father to keep her safe from the political intrigue and danger that plagued Rome. She lived a quiet, secluded life on the family estate, far from the city's chaos. You hadn't seen her in years, but you knew she would help you if you could reach her.

Rage bubbled up inside you, a seething mass of frustration and helplessness. The weight of your father's words pressed down on you like a heavy shroud, suffocating your spirit. With a sudden, violent motion, you swept your arm across the dining table, sending grapes, cheese, and meats crashing to the floor. The wine goblet toppled, spilling dark red liquid like blood across the pristine tablecloth.

Breathing heavily, you glared at the mess you had created, but it did nothing to alleviate the fury burning within you. Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the grand hall, your footsteps echoing through the marble corridors.

You reached your room, slamming the door behind you. The silence was oppressive, the walls closing in as your mind raced. You had to get out. You couldn't marry Marcus Acacius. You couldn't be trapped in a life you didn't choose, a life that would suffocate the very essence of who you were.

You paced the room, the dim light from the oil lamps casting flickering shadows on the walls. Your eyes darted around, searching for a solution, a way out of this nightmare. Your thoughts turned to your mother, a fleeting glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness.

Your mother had been sent to the countryside years ago, a decision made by your father to keep her safe from the political intrigue and danger that plagued Rome. She lived a quiet, secluded life on the family estate, far from the city's chaos. You hadn't seen her in years, but you knew she would help you if you could reach her.

It had been a month of plotting and planning, each day dragging on as your impending fate loomed ever closer. Today was your wedding day, the day your life would be sealed into a destiny you hadn’t chosen. Final preparations had been completed yesterday, and now you were meant to step into the role of a dutiful daughter and bride. You had woken up earlier than your maids would have roused you, knowing your father would want you to rest more so you appeared extra fresh for Marcus. Instead, your nerves had kept you up all night, the shadows on the walls morphing into ominous shapes as you thought of your future.

The first light of dawn crept through the narrow window, and you knew you couldn’t waste any more time. Your small bag, packed with bread, a few pieces of jewelry to sell, and the spending money your father occasionally gave you, lay hidden under the covers of your bed. The plan was simple: catch the slightest bit of rest before your handmaid came in to wake you, then escape before anyone noticed.

The door creaked open, and Lucia, your handmaid, entered with her usual gentle and serene presence. She glided to the window, pulling back the heavy curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, casting a warm glow that felt almost mocking given your circumstances. You sat up in bed, the light highlighting the bags under your eyes from a sleepless night.

"Good morning, my lady," she said dreamily, her voice like a lullaby. "The sun is shining so beautifully today. It's a perfect day for a wedding." She moved to your side, her hands deftly beginning to arrange your hair with practiced ease. You watched her reflection in the mirror, feeling a pang of guilt for the deception you were about to execute.

"Your dress is so beautiful, my lady. It's like a dream come true. You'll look like a goddess, a vision of perfection," Lucia continued, her words meant to comfort but only adding to your anxiety. The dress she spoke of hung in the corner, a symbol of the life you were being forced into.

You let her continue, her words a soothing balm against your churning thoughts. As she began to apply a light makeup, using berries to tint your lips and cheeks, you couldn't help but feel a sense of finality creeping in. "You'll be the envy of every woman in Rome," she continued, her voice full of admiration. "Marcus Acacius is a powerful man. You'll be safe with him."

Safe. The word echoed in your mind, tinged with bitterness. Safety was a cage, and you longed for freedom. Suddenly, you sat up, startling Lucia. "I need your dress," you blurted out, your voice urgent.

She looked at you, shocked and confused. "My dress, my lady? Why would you want my dress?" she asked, her hands frozen in mid-motion.

You gave her a reassuring smile, reaching under your bed to pull out a dress you had kept for a long time. It was a simple yet elegant gown, one she had always admired. "I have something for you," you said, handing her the dress. "I've seen how much you like it. Today, I want you to wear it and have fun. I just... I want to feel normal before the wedding."

Her eyes widened, and a smile of pure joy spread across her face. "Thank you, my lady. Thank you so much!" She looked at the dress, then back at you. "But what about you? Where will you be?"

You hesitated for a moment, crafting a believable lie. "I'll be eating breakfast with the soldiers. I need a moment to myself before the chaos begins."

She nodded, believing your words, and quickly changed into the dress you had given her. You watched as her usual plain attire was replaced by the elegant gown, the transformation bringing a genuine smile to your face despite the turmoil in your heart. "You look beautiful," you said, forcing a smile. "Now go, enjoy yourself."

Lucia beamed, her happiness palpable. "Thank you, my lady. I'll remember this day forever." She gave a small curtsy and hurried out, eager to enjoy the brief taste of luxury you had gifted her.

As soon as the door closed behind her, you sprang into action. Your heart pounded as you grabbed your small bag from under the covers and moved swiftly towards the door. The corridors of the castle were quiet, the early hour ensuring most were still in their beds. You moved with purpose, your sandals barely making a sound on the stone floors.

Every step you took was filled with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. You had never been so bold, and the risk was immense. If you were caught, the consequences would be severe, but you couldn't live a life that wasn't yours. The thought of being trapped in a loveless marriage with Marcus Acacius spurred you on.

You reached the courtyard, the cool morning air filling your lungs as you dashed towards the farthest end where the horse stables were located. The sound of hooves and the scent of hay greeted you as you approached, your eyes scanning for a suitable mount. Freedom was within reach, and your heart soared with the possibility.

But then, a familiar, stern voice cut through the morning air. "Where do you think you're going?"

You sprinted, your sandals slapping against the cobblestones as the guards closed in. Heart pounding, you reached the barn, your fingers fumbling with the latch. The sound of pursuing footsteps fueled your frantic efforts, and finally, the door swung open. You dashed inside, the scent of hay and horses enveloping you. There was no time to lose.

Without wasting a moment, you chose the newest and fastest horse, a powerful chestnut stallion that had always intimidated you with its raw strength. It was your only chance. Your hands shook as you grabbed its mane, your heart hammering in your chest. The stallion snorted, sensing your urgency. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

"Hyah!" you urged, kicking your heels against its sides. The stallion reared, its powerful muscles tensing beneath you, then surged forward, galloping towards the gates. The wind whipped through your hair, the thundering of hooves drowning out the shouts behind you.

The gate loomed ahead, freedom tantalizingly close. You leaned forward, urging the horse faster. As you rode, you navigated the narrow alleys and sharp turns of the castle grounds, the stallion's speed making every twist and turn feel like a life-or-death gamble. The guards were not far behind, their yells growing louder, but you kept pushing, your eyes fixed on the gate.

You had run from the guards before, slipping through their grasp with quick wits and nimble feet, but this was different. The stakes were higher, the danger more palpable. The horse beneath you was your only hope, its powerful strides eating up the distance between you and the gate. But it was also a wild, untamed force, difficult to control.

As you neared the gate, you saw it beginning to close. Panic surged through you. With a desperate cry, you urged the stallion faster. The ground seemed to blur beneath you, the world a whirl of motion and sound. The horse’s breath came in powerful snorts, its muscles straining with effort.

Just as you thought you might make it, the stallion stumbled on a loose cobblestone. You were flung from its back, the world spinning around you as you hit the ground hard. Pain shot through your body, your vision swimming with stars.

When you opened your eyes, the sky above was a brilliant blue, and the scent of earth and grass filled your nostrils. You groaned, trying to sit up, but a gentle hand on your shoulder stopped you.

"Easy there," a deep, soothing voice said. You turned your head and found yourself staring into the concerned eyes of a stranger, his face handsome and strong, framed by dark curls. He knelt beside you, his touch gentle but firm.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

You blinked, trying to focus through the haze of pain and confusion. "Who... who are you?"

A small, enigmatic smile played on his lips. "My name is Marcus Acacius. And you must be my bride."

The revelation hit you like a bolt of lightning. This was the man you were meant to marry, the man you were running from. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw not the tyrant you had imagined, but a man filled with genuine concern and curiosity.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," Marcus continued his voice a mix of authority and kindness. "It's dangerous. Let me help you."

The irony of the situation was almost too much to bear. You had been fleeing from your fate, only to run straight into its arms. As Marcus helped you to your feet, his hands strong and reassuring, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps your destiny was more complex than you had believed.

Marcus's strong arms guided you inside, each step a reluctant surrender to the fate you had been trying to escape. The castle's grand corridors, usually bustling with servants and courtiers, were eerily quiet in the early morning light. You were disoriented, the pain from your fall mingling with the turmoil of your thoughts.

As you entered your bedchamber, a familiar and unwelcome face greeted you. Aurelia, one of your father's maids and his well-known mistress, stood there with a smug expression. Her presence was a bitter reminder of your father's indiscretions and the fractured state of your family.

"Well, well," Aurelia purred, her voice dripping with condescension. "What a surprise to see you here, my lady. Running away on your wedding day? How very unbecoming of you."

You shot her a withering glare, your temper flaring. "Spare me your lectures, Aurelia. I'm not in the mood for your sanctimonious drivel."

Aurelia's smile widened, enjoying your discomfort. "You should be grateful for the match your father has arranged. Marcus Acacius is a powerful man. You could do far worse."

You clenched your fists, your anger barely contained. "Is that what you tell yourself to justify spreading your legs for my father? That you're doing it for power and security?"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she maintained her composure. "Watch your tongue, girl. You may not like me, but I'm here to make sure you fulfill your duty. Now sit down and let me get you ready."

Reluctantly, you sat down, feeling trapped and helpless. As Aurelia worked on your hair and makeup, her touch was firm and unyielding. Her presence was suffocating, her every word a reminder of the life you were being forced into.

"You think you can escape your destiny?" Aurelia continued, her tone dripping with disdain. "You're just a foolish girl. This marriage is your only chance at a future."

You bit back a retort, knowing it would only fuel her smug superiority. Instead, you focused on the mirror in front of you, watching as she applied the final touches to your appearance. The reflection staring back at you was almost unrecognizable—a vision of beauty and elegance, but one that felt like a mask hiding your true self.

Once Aurelia finished, she stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "There," she said, a note of satisfaction in her voice. "You look perfect. Ready to be a proper bride."

You stood, your heart heavy with dread. The grand hall awaited, filled with guests and the weight of expectation. As you made your way towards it, you felt the walls closing in, your fate sealed with every step.

The hall was decorated with lavish flowers and banners, the scent of incense filling the air. Guests whispered and watched as you entered, their eyes following your every move. At the far end, Marcus Acacius stood, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

The ceremony began with the priest’s voice, resonant and solemn, echoing through the hall. The guests fell into an expectant silence, the only sounds being the faint rustling of their silk garments and the distant clinking of goblets. The hall, lavishly adorned with ivy and flowers, seemed to shimmer with an almost otherworldly glow, casting shadows that danced like phantoms along the walls.

You stood at the altar, your heart pounding against your ribs like a trapped bird. The priest’s words, though intended to be a comfort, were like a dark incantation, each syllable wrapping around you tighter, dragging you deeper into the abyss of your fate. Your eyes flickered over to Marcus, standing with his back straight, his gaze unwavering. He looked every bit the powerful man he was rumored to be—tall, imposing, with a presence that commanded the room.

You recalled the whispers you had heard over the past months—the stories of Marcus Acacius. The tales were rife with speculation and fear, his name often mentioned in hushed tones. They spoke of a man whose ambition knew no bounds, whose cruelty was whispered about in every corner of Rome. Some said his eyes held a darkness that could see through to the soul, while others claimed he had a penchant for the macabre, often indulging in extravagant displays of power.

As the priest began the traditional vows, his voice a monotone murmur, you tried to focus, but the words blurred into a cacophony. "Do you, Marcus Acacius, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, until death do you part?"

Marcus’s voice was steady, unwavering. "I do," he said, his tone deep and commanding, sending shivers down your spine.

When it was your turn, the words caught in your throat, your voice barely a whisper. "I... I do," you managed, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, the weight of your submission crushing your spirit.

The priest nodded, a satisfied smile curling his lips. "Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

As the priest declared you bound by law and faith, the room erupted into applause, the sound a thunderclap that seemed to echo off the very stones of the castle. Marcus took your hand, his grip firm and unyielding, leading you down the aisle. The guests showered you with petals, their faces a blur of congratulations and forced smiles. You felt like a puppet, each step you took dictated by an invisible string.

The reception hall was a whirlwind of opulence, the air thick with the scent of spiced wine and roasting meats. Long tables groaned under the weight of sumptuous feasts, while musicians played melodies that mingled with the laughter and chatter of the guests. The hall’s high ceilings seemed to stretch into eternity, adorned with golden chandeliers that sparkled like stars.

You clung to the edge of the hall, the laughter and music a distant hum, your mind wandering back to the dark tales you had heard of Marcus. The rumors were impossible to ignore: they spoke of his ruthless ambition, his cold demeanor, and his unsettling fascination with power. Some said his parties were a mask for darker pursuits, where the line between pleasure and pain blurred into obscurity.

As Marcus moved through the crowd, his demeanor was that of a king—gracious yet commanding, his laughter rich and resonant. He was surrounded by his closest allies, men whose eyes gleamed with greed and ambition. They raised their goblets in his honor, their voices melding into a chorus of congratulatory toasts.

You stood near a heavy oak door, the cool stone beneath your fingers a reminder of the stark reality you now faced. The night was growing darker, the moonlight streaming through the tall windows casting an eerie glow on the festivities.

Suddenly, a hand gripped your arm, pulling you away from the door. It was one of the guards, his expression grave. "My lady, you mustn't go near that door. Your father has given strict orders. Any guard who aids your escape will be put to death."

You stared at him, a chill running down your spine. "What do you mean? You can’t be serious. There’s no way out of here. You’re all trapped too."

The guard’s eyes flickered with a mix of pity and resolve. "It’s true, my lady. Your father’s command is ironclad. He has spies everywhere. If you try to leave, he will know. And the consequences for anyone who helps you are severe."

A knot of fear and frustration tightened in your chest. "What do you expect me to do? Just stand here and pretend everything’s fine?"

He hesitated, his grip on your arm softening. "No, my lady. But perhaps you could find a way to make the best of this night. Try to speak to him, learn his intentions. There may be more to him than the rumors say."

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, your mind spinning with the guard’s words. With a determined stride, you made your way through the crowd towards Marcus, who was leaning casually against a pillar, a goblet of wine in his hand. His eyes were slightly glazed from the alcohol, but his gaze sharpened as he saw you approaching.

"Marcus," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. "I wanted to thank you for your help earlier today. I... I appreciate it."

He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You mean when you tried to flee?" His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it. "You have spirit, I'll give you that."

You forced a smile, trying to gauge his true nature. "I only wished for a moment of freedom. But I suppose that is behind us now."

Marcus took a sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving yours. "Freedom is a fleeting thing, my dear. But power... power is eternal. And together, we shall wield it."

Your stomach churned at his words, the rumors about him echoing in your mind. "Is that all you care about? Power?" you asked, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice.

His smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "You misunderstand me. Power is not an end, but a means. It ensures safety, prosperity, and control over one's destiny. Is that so terrible?"

You struggled to see past the image you had built of him. "I’ve heard things about you, Marcus. Dark things."

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent chills down your spine. "People fear what they do not understand. Let them talk. What matters is that I have the means to protect those I care about."

His words, though seemingly sincere, did little to quell your doubts. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, your father’s voice boomed across the hall.

"Honored guests!" he called out, drawing everyone’s attention. "The hour grows late, and it is time for my daughter and her new husband to retire to their bedchamber."

A murmur of approval and knowing smiles rippled through the crowd. Your heart raced, a mixture of dread and resignation filling you. Marcus extended his hand to you, his grip firm and possessive as he led you through the throng of guests towards the grand staircase.

As you ascended the stairs, the weight of your future bore down on you. You glanced back once, seeing the guests' faces fade into the distance, their laughter and conversations becoming a dull roar. When you reached the door of the bedchamber, Marcus paused, turning to face you.

"This is just the beginning," he said, his voice low and intense. "We have much to learn about each other."

You swallowed hard, forcing a nod. "Yes, we do."

He opened the door, and you stepped inside, the room lit by the soft glow of candlelight. The bed, draped in rich fabrics, seemed to loom ominously in the center. Marcus closed the door behind you, the click of the latch sounding like a final seal on your fate.

As he moved closer, you felt a mix of fear and curiosity. This was the man you were now bound to, and despite the darkness that surrounded him, there was a part of you that longed to understand him, to find the truth beneath the rumors.

"Let's start anew," he said, his hand gently brushing your cheek. "Whatever you have heard, whatever you fear, put it aside. We are bound by more than words and vows. Let’s see where this path takes us."

You recoiled from his touch, your anger bubbling to the surface. "I'd rather fuck a pig than you," you spat, your voice dripping with venom. The shock on his face quickly morphed into a cold, calculating expression.

"You need to learn your place," Marcus hissed, his grip tightening on your arm. "You should consider yourself lucky to have me, especially with your reputation."

You glared at him, your temper flaring. "Lucky? Is that what you think this is? A blessing? I know what people say about you, Marcus. They call you ruthless, a monster. I'd rather die than be your plaything."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You speak so boldly for someone in such a precarious position. But let me make something clear: you are mine now. And I will do whatever it takes to keep you in line."

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of fear and defiance. "You can't control me. I'll never submit to you."

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. "Is that so? Tell me, my bride, are you truly a virgin, or have your wild antics already sullied you?"

The question caught you off guard, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "How dare you—"

"Answer me," he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. "Are you a virgin?"

You clenched your fists, refusing to be cowed. "Yes, I am," you snapped, your voice trembling with rage. "Not that it's any of your business."

He seemed taken aback for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he studied your face. "So, you are pure, despite everything. Interesting."

"You think you can just claim me like some prize?" you retorted, your voice rising. "I won't be your obedient little wife. I won't be another notch on your belt."

Marcus's expression hardened, his grip on your arm like iron. "You will be my wife, and you will learn to respect me. You don't know the first thing about power or survival. But you will."

"You don't scare me," you lied, your voice faltering slightly.

"Don't I?" he whispered, his lips dangerously close to yours. "You should be scared. But perhaps you're just too stubborn to realize it."

"Stubborn?" you scoffed. "Is that what you call it when someone refuses to bow to a tyrant?"

His eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, you thought he might strike you. But instead, he did something even more unexpected. He leaned in and kissed you, his lips crashing against yours with a fierce, passionate intensity.

You froze, your mind racing as his kiss deepened. There was a raw, undeniable heat between you, a clash of wills and desires. Your initial shock gave way to a whirlwind of emotions—anger, fear, curiosity, and something else you couldn't quite name.

As his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, you found yourself responding, your body betraying your mind. The kiss was a battle, each of you struggling for dominance, neither willing to yield.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your heart racing. His eyes were dark and intense, a storm of emotions swirling within them. You stared back at him, defiance and confusion mingling in your gaze, unsure of what to say or do next.

"I'm sorry," Marcus said, his voice unexpectedly soft. "I shouldn't have forced myself on you like that."

His words, so out of character, only fueled your anger further. "Sorry?" you scoffed, pushing him back slightly. "You think a simple apology will make up for everything? For the way you've treated me, for the way you think you can just claim me?"

His jaw clenched, but he didn't back down. "I know I can't make up for it. But perhaps... perhaps we can find a way to understand each other."

You were silent for a moment, then your eyes narrowed. "Understand each other?" you echoed, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is that what this is about? Understanding?"

A dark, reckless impulse surged within you. You grabbed him by the front of his tunic, pulling him closer. "You think you can control me?" you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "You think you can just take what you want?"

Before he could respond, you pressed your lips to his again, this time with even more intensity. The kiss was fierce, a clash of wills and desires. You could feel the tension between you, the thin line between hate and something far more dangerous.

Marcus responded in kind, his hands gripping your waist with bruising force. The room seemed to spin as you lost yourself in the raw heat of the moment, your anger and frustration boiling over into something wild and unrestrained.

You broke the kiss, your breathing ragged. "You want me?" you demanded, your voice a low, challenging whisper. "Then take me."

His eyes blazed with desire and a hint of confusion. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Shut up," you snapped, pulling him closer. "No more talking. Just... take me."

With a growl, Marcus responded, his hands tearing at your clothes with a desperate urgency. You mirrored his actions, your fingers fumbling with the fastenings of his tunic. The fabric fell away, and you pressed your bodies together, the heat of his skin igniting a fire within you.

"You're infuriating," he muttered, his lips trailing down your neck.

"And you," you retorted, your hands exploring the hard planes of his chest, "are a tyrant."

He paused for a moment, his breath hot against your skin. "Then why are you doing this?"

"Because," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desire, "I hate you. And I need to feel something other than this... this helplessness."

He captured your lips again, his kiss searing and demanding. "I hate you too," he whispered against your mouth, his hands roaming your body. "But I can't resist you."

The world outside ceased to exist as you gave in to the storm between you. Clothes fell away, and you were left exposed, vulnerable yet defiant. You pushed him onto the bed, straddling him, your eyes locked in a battle of wills.

"You think you can control me?" you challenged, your voice breathless.

"I don't need to control you," Marcus replied, his hands gripping your hips. "I just need you."

Marcus brought his thumb to circle your clit, his rough touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You moaned slightly, your head falling back in bliss. His voice teased you, dripping with arrogance. "What, haven’t you touched yourself before?"

You gasped, grinding down against the hard length of his cock straddled between your legs. His smirk faltered at your audacity. "Of course I have," you retorted, your voice edged with defiance, a spark of rebellion lighting your eyes.

Marcus gripped your hips, lifting you off him with ease before moving to sit back against the headboard, his arms casually behind his head in a display of smug dominance. "You want the virgin to do all the work?" you taunted, your eyes narrowing in displeasure as you crawled closer.

His smirk returned, darker this time. "The virgin, huh? That's what I get to call you now?" He paused, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "You're the one who's on me like a dog in heat."

You looked at him with a dark expression, sitting back on your thighs, your chest heaving with frustration and desire. With one hand, you began to caress his upper thigh, mimicking the movements you'd seen from the sex workers in your father's employ. Though inexperienced, you weren't ignorant; you'd read secret novels and asked questions of your father's mistresses. But nothing had prepared you for the raw reality of this moment.

"You know what to do?" he questioned a challenge in his eyes, his voice a low growl.

You didn't answer with words. Instead, you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick from the base of his cock to the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum on your tongue. The taste was oddly addictive. You wrapped your hand around his thick length, marveling at how it almost didn't fit in your grip. Steadying him, you licked the tip, eliciting a deep groan from him.

"Don't be shy," he patted your head condescendingly, his fingers tangling in your hair. Despite your nerves, you collected spit in your mouth and let it fall onto the tip of his cock, watching as he rubbed it around with a satisfied smirk.

You took the tip into your mouth, savoring the taste of his pre-cum, and groaned at the flavor. He moaned deeply as you sucked gently, guiding your head with his hand. You gagged slightly as you tried to take more of him in, your hand still gripping the base, your eyes watering with the effort.

"Spit on it," he commanded. You did as he asked, letting more saliva dribble onto his length. He patted your head again, a gesture both condescending and encouraging, and you resumed sucking, taking him deeper into your mouth. You gagged again, but he didn't let go, enjoying the sight of you struggling to accommodate his size.

"Come on," he urged, pulling you up to straddle his hips once more. You thought he was finally ready to take your virginity, the moment you'd both been building towards, but he surprised you. Gripping your hips with firm hands, he moved you so his face was between your thighs.

"What are you—" you began, but he cut you off, his lips attacking your clit with a fervor that stole your breath. He completed the arc with his tongue, taking your bud between his lips and sucking hard. You almost screamed, the pleasure overwhelming you. "Oh God," you moaned, your hands flying to his hair to steady yourself.

He paused for a moment, his dark eyes meeting yours with a predatory glint. "Marcus, baby… Marcus," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need and desperation.

He resumed his assault, his tongue and lips working in tandem to drive you wild. You began to grind against his mouth, the sensation too much to bear, yet not nearly enough. The tension built rapidly, your orgasm approaching with a force that took you by surprise.

"Marcus!" you cried out, your fingers gripping his hair tightly as your body tensed and then shattered into a million pieces. He held your hips firmly to his face, lapping up every drop of your release as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue.

You fell back onto the bed, spent and trembling, and he crawled over you, his face slick with your essence. "Well, well," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his features as he rubbed his cock against your still-sensitive pussy. "Are you all fucked out already?"

You managed a weak glare, but it melted into a moan as he pushed into you. The stretch was intense, making you claw at his shoulders for support. He kissed your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of fire as he pulled out slowly before thrusting back in deeply. You moaned at the sensation, your body arching to meet his every movement.

"You hear that?" His gruff voice asked, pulling you back to the present as his cock dragged from your cunt, pushing back in slowly. The squelch of him pushing deep inside you was loud, the sound of your arousal undeniable. You threw your head back, moaning his name.

"Yeah, you do," he muttered, his breath hot against your neck. His teeth grazed your delicate skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Hear how wet you are?"

You opened your eyes slowly, your vision filled with the sight of him. His beautiful, sweat-covered face was close to yours, every scar and wrinkle telling a story, the grey in his beard adding to his rugged appeal. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your heart race.

A moan escaped your lips as his thrusts grew more desperate, more hungry. He caught your wrists together in one of his big hands, pressing them down into the mattress with a grip that left no room for escape. Your thighs were splayed wide, almost uncomfortably so, pressed down by the width of his hips. His cock was splitting you open, and you were so impossibly wet that you could hear it every time he pushed back into you, a lewd squelching sound that only seemed to spur him on.

He grinned wildly, his teeth flashing in the dim light. "You like that, don’t you?" he taunted, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Only I can make you this wet, make you submit so completely."

You could only moan in response, your body arching beneath him, every nerve ending on fire. "Marcus," you whimpered, the intense pleasure making you delirious. Your mind was a haze of sensation, every thrust sending you spiraling further into a world where only he existed.

His grin softened slightly, a hint of something almost tender in his eyes as he looked down at you. "That's right," he murmured, his voice a low growl. His thrusts were deep and relentless, each one driving home his dominance. "You're mine now."

You wanted to hate him, to deny the truth of his words, but with your body quivering beneath his, you knew he was right. You were his. Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word claimed you, bound you to him in ways you had never imagined.

His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. The room was filled with the sounds of your combined moans, the slap of skin against skin, and the wet, obscene noises of your coupling. His free hand roamed over your body, caressing and squeezing, leaving trails of fire in its wake.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. "I can't get enough of you."

Your response was a garbled moan, your head thrown back in ecstasy. His words, his touch, everything about him overwhelmed you. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, the coil of pleasure tightening in your belly, ready to snap.

He seemed to sense your impending release, his movements becoming even more deliberate, his thrusts hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over again. "Come for me," he demanded, his voice rough with his own need. "Let go. I want to feel you."

The command sent you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you with the force of a tidal wave, your body convulsing beneath him. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the room, a testament to your surrender.

His weight pressed you into the mattress, his skin hot and slick against yours. You felt every throb of his heartbeat, every shudder of his breath. It was an intimacy you had never experienced before, raw and all-consuming.

As the waves of your shared climax ebbed, you lay there, wrapped in the warmth of his body. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, tangled together in the aftermath of passion.

As he lifted his head, his eyes met yours, filled with a complex mix of emotions. The intensity of his gaze made your heart flutter, but the softness in his expression was unexpected, almost tender.

"Well," he murmured, his voice low and taunting, "I guess the rumors were wrong. You're not a virgin after all." He paused, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Well, not anymore."

You felt a flush of anger rise within you. "And what if I wasn't? What difference would it make to you?"

He smirked, the familiar arrogance returning. "Just proves you're not as innocent as you pretend to be."

You pushed against his chest, forcing him to roll onto his side. "You're insufferable," you snapped, your breath still coming in short gasps. "You think you know everything, but you don't."

He chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Maybe not everything. But I know enough."

You glared at him, the heat between you not entirely dissipated. "You don't know anything about me."

His hand moved to your cheek, thumb brushing over your flushed skin. "I know you're stronger than you think. And I know you feel something for me, whether you want to admit it or not."

You scoffed, turning your head away. "You're delusional."

"Am I?" He leaned in, his lips ghosting over your ear. "Or are you just afraid to admit it?"

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, a shiver running down your spine. "Get over yourself," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent.

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that made your insides twist. "I could say the same to you."

You pushed at him again, trying to create distance, but he caught your wrists, holding them against the mattress. "Let go," you demanded, struggling against his grip.

"Not until you admit it," he said, his voice soft but firm.

"Admit what?" you hissed, your anger flaring again.

"That you feel something for me," he said, his eyes boring into yours.

You glared at him, refusing to give in. "You're impossible."

He sighed, releasing your wrists and rolling onto his back. "Maybe I am. But so are you."

You lay there in silence for a moment, the tension between you thick and palpable. Despite everything, you couldn't deny the magnetic pull you felt towards him, the strange mix of hatred and desire that left you breathless and confused.

Finally, exhaustion began to creep in, your body heavy with the aftermath of your intense encounter. "This doesn't change anything," you said, your voice softer now, almost resigned.

"Maybe not," he agreed, his tone equally soft. "But it's a start."

You turned your head to look at him, finding his eyes already on you. "What do you want from me, Marcus?" you asked, the question hanging heavily in the air.

He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice a whisper. "But I want to find out."

You closed your eyes, a sigh escaping your lips. "I'm too tired to argue with you."

He chuckled softly, the sound surprisingly comforting. "Then don't. Just sleep."

You turned onto your side, your back to him, trying to create some semblance of space. The room was silent, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets and the faint crackle of the dying fire in the hearth. You closed your eyes, willing sleep to come, but your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Despite your best efforts to maintain distance, you couldn't ignore the warmth radiating from Marcus's body, the solid presence of him beside you. There was a strange sense of comfort in his nearness, an unexpected feeling of safety that contrasted sharply with the chaos of your emotions.

As you lay there, the exhaustion from the night's events slowly began to overtake you. Your muscles relaxed, and your breathing grew steady and slow. You felt the mattress shift slightly as Marcus moved closer, his arm draping over your waist in a possessive yet gentle gesture.

For a moment, you considered shrugging him off, but the weariness was too much. Instead, you let yourself sink into the feeling of his arm around you, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against your back. It was oddly soothing, a stark reminder that despite the tumultuous start to your union, there was a potential for something more, something deeper.

"Goodnight," Marcus murmured softly, his breath warm against your ear.

You hesitated before responding, the word barely a whisper. "Goodnight."

PART 2

[xretiredcommanderx]

"You are most welcome," if Magnus was honest she had no idea what many human holidays were; but she seemed to enjoy them anyways.

"I believe it is an organic tradition." She was only convinced when she saw photos of families passing food to each other, she saw turkeys everywhere on the holiday and somehow her memory loss got those two variables mixed up.

"I saw humans doing it. So it must be."

"hello, Tarn, I hope you are having a happy Early TurkeyGiving." In honour of the special holiday where you give turkeys to others. Magnus will offer over a crocheted Turkey....

.....and a stuffed turkey she found at a weird gas station. Best not to ask. It's got googly eyes and a tag that says 'weird emporium'

He's certainly never heard of "TurkeyGiving" before, though he appreciates the gifts.

"Thank you Magnus, though I don't know what "TurkeyGiving" is. Is this some sort of organic tradition?" Tarn had never bothered to learn about organics and their strange ways.

[mammonsrockstargf]

HIDE AWAY

contents: mammon x gn! reader, fluff/crack?, gets suggestive towards the end, lucifer appearance (boooo), mammon is taller than reader, dumb shenanigans!! you have been warned, teasing, kissing, not proofread wordcount: 1k alba's note: happy birthday to my favourite man <3

“Who’s a good boy?”

“Wha-” Mammon immediately stops in his tracks, his eyebrows narrowing and the tops of his ears turning red.

“Why are ya talkin’ to me like I’m a dog or somethin’?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from you. You can spot a blush growing from his neck, and the sight makes you cackle. 

“You’re my good boy,” you repeat, reaching out to scratch Mammon behind his ear, but he quickly swats your hand away, sending you a look of disbelief. “I’m not a dog!” he exclaims, avoiding your various attempts to ruffle his hair, knowing that if you get his hands on him, he might turn into a puddle of goo. “Stop that!”

You show no effort to stop, continuing to coo at him as though he’s a golden retriever you’ve just spotted on the sidewalk. 

“Hey, I am The Great Mammon! Do not cross me, human!” he continues. At this point, he’s red all over, hastily walking away from you. Your laughter only grows in volume as you continue to mess with him while you follow him. 

“You know what?” Mammon says, abruptly stopping, causing you to collide with his back. “Hmmpf! Hey, why did you—” Mammon turns around, and you go silent as you catch the look in his eyes. Annoyed, amused, and a little bit insane is the vibe you get as his pout morphs into a grin. 

“I’m a demon. I’ll eat you,” he says, teasingly flashing his fangs. You gasp. 

“You wouldn’t!” 

“I will!”

You decide to make a run for it, quickly moving down the hall towards your room. If you can make it in there and grab a weapon (a pillow) in time, then you might make it. Mammon is behind you, cackling evilly. You go around the corner, and you were so so close to salvation, if it wasn’t for the wall you ran into. 

“Auch!” you exclaim, rubbing your forehead. Your heart stops as you realise that the wall is wearing a suit. You look up to find red eyes already glaring at you. Mammon stifles a laugh behind you, pulling at your shirt to get you to walk a few steps back and create some distance between you and his older brother. 

“What are the two of you doing?” Lucifer asks, clearly tired of your shenanigans as you attempt to put on your most charming smile. 

“Hello, Luci. Did you have a good day?” you ask, wincing slightly when Mammon squeezes your hand in warning. You look back at him to find him shaking his head while motioning to stop with his hands. Lucifer sighs. 

“I seem to remember the two of you were on kitchen duty tonight. Perhaps you forgot?” He says, and you open your mouth to speak before closing it again. You completely forgot. 

“Hey, listen, I can explain,” Mammon begins, but he quickly shuts up when Lucifer glares at him. He begins his lecture, by telling you both how you’re irresponsible, and you do your best to pretend you’re listening as Mammon leans down to whisper in your ear. 

“On now, we run,”

“What?”

“Now!”

“Mammoon!”

You’re pulled down the hallway, down the flight of stairs into the living room. You gasp for air, barely being able to keep up with Mammon’s long legs, before you’re shown down another hallway and pushed into a closet. Mammon follows, closing the door behind him. It’s so tiny that you’re pressed against each other, and you can hear his heartbeat as you try to catch your breath. 

“He’s gonna hang you up on the ceiling,” you whisper after a moment of silence and Mammon huffs.

“Not if he doesn't find me.”

“He will find you.” 

You stand for another while and you shift, trying to find better space, but it only leads to you being closer to Mammon. 

“Aw, you stepped on my toe!”

“Sorry,” you giggle, and Mammon groans. Your hands find Mammon’s chest, snaking up to wrap around his neck as you pull him down to you. 

“Let me make it up to you,” you say, pulling him in for a kiss. He immediately reciprocates, his hands finding your hips as you’re pressed against the closet wall behind you. Mammon’s lips are soft, and his hands are warm as they travel around your body. You pull at his hair slightly, nails running along his scalp in the way you know he likes, and he rewards you with a breathy groan, almost a whine, as he leans closer in, till you’re completely trapped between him and the wall. His hands move a bit too low, squeezing your ass, and you gasp.

Mammon doesn’t waste the opportunity, slipping his tongue into your mouth, and you let him before you pull away for air. The closet feels awfully stuffy and hot all of a sudden as he moves down your jaw, placing kisses along your neck.

“Mams,” you sigh, patting his shoulder. “We can’t fuck in a closet.” 

Mammon whines at this, coming up to place one chaste kiss on your lips. 

“Why not?” he asks, as his hands begin travelling low again before you grab them and intertwine your fingers. “Could be kind of hot.” 

You scoff at this, though Mammon seems completely earnest, his blue eyes practically lighting up the small space as he presses another kiss to your lips. “No, one of us would definitely fall, or Lucifer would find us,”—Mammon grimaces at the thought—“or we would break something.”

You could list more predictions, but Mammon seems to get the picture as he rolls his eyes and pulls away slightly. 

“Yeah, okay, I get it,” he says. You lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“I’ll tell you what,” you whisper in his ear, and Mammon hums, arms automatically wrapping around you in a hug again. “If we make it to your room, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me,” you murmur, and you can’t help but laugh when Mammon’s grip on you tightens as his breath slightly hitches. 

“Yeah, definitely, you’re on, treasure.” 

…

You watch Lucifer string Mammon to the ceiling, attempting to hide your smile as Mammon grumbles. His older brother shakes his head, not even bothering to say anything as he walks away towards his office. 

You kiss Mammon’s nose as he huffs and puffs in disappointment. 

“Biggest cockblock ever,” he mumbles, glaring towards Lucifer that’s disappearing down the hall. You stifle a giggle and kiss his cheek. 

“The night isn’t over yet.”

thank you for reading!

masterlist | divider by cafekitsune

[ba9go]

being miya atsumu’s no. 1 cheerleader

miya atsumu does not need a fanclub when he has you.

miya atsumu x fem!reader; pre-game shenanigans means holding atsumu’s hand when he has to lock in and also flirting with him to rile him up on the bus ride!

both my exes are volleyball players and let me tell u these volleyball men walk around carrying such huge egos but at the end of the day, they still fall at ur feet when u say the simplest things to them… so cute lol i wanna step on them

the miya atsumu fanclub is notorious for being loud and utterly obsessed with the inarizaki setter.

it was a little funny at first, hearing their poorly-concealed squeals whenever he stepped onto the court. but damn, did it get annoying real quick.

on the bus ride, atsumu seems calm. he’s holding your hand, and he has his earphones in, even though you know he’s not actually listening to anything. he’s so uncharacteristically quiet during the 30-minute drive to the stadium, it’s almost scary, but you know it’s because there’s only one thing in his mind right now.

winning.

atsumu sits facing towards the window, but you know he isn’t looking at the blur of scenery and cars driving past. no, atsumu is focused right now. he’s in his head, thinking about the game, from the very moment he steps onto the court to when he’s finally leaving the stadium with yet another win.

the bus pulls into the parking lot and already, there’s a horde of fangirls crowding outside the stadium entrance, ready to ask for signatures and selfies.

atsumu finally tears his gaze from the window with a harsh click of his tongue, and you can’t help but laugh at his antics.

“i hate mosquito season,” atsumu says through gritted teeth, crossing his arms like a petulant child, and you know he’s not talking about insects. “i can’t stand em, seriously! these pests.”

"don’t be like that,” you scold lightly, patting his thigh twice. “be nice to your supporters.”

“but they’re so annoyin’! even as supporters, it’s like they’re cheerin’ jus’ to throw me off ma game!” atsumu pouts, and there it is, your chance to butter him up and really rile him up for the game.

“nothing can throw you off your game, ‘tsumu,” you say sweetly, reaching up to cup his face in one hand. atsumu leans into your touch immediately. “you’re better than that.”

“yer right,” atsumu smirks, placing his hand over yours to guide it to the back of his neck for you to comb your fingers through his hair. “‘sides, s’hard to pay them any attention when yer here, doll.”

“yeah? you like it when i watch you play, ‘tsumu?” you tug a little at atsumu’s hair, just the way he likes it, and it has him leaning forward until his head is resting on your shoulder and his face is pressed into your shirt.

“i love it. yer my lucky charm, babe. my darlin’ cheerleader. don’t need any of those pigs squealin’ f’me when i got my pretty girl ta support me.”

“i can never take my eyes off you, atsumu,” you murmur softly, and you mean it. atsumu always looks so good on court, doing what he loves most. he carries his passion for volleyball everywhere with him, but the court is where it truly shines through, where his hard work finally pays off.

atsumu’s a proud guy, with an ego bigger than most, and yet he melts at your words and keens at your touch.

“ya mean it?” atsumu tilts his head to the side to look at you, and you grin.

“you don’t believe me?” you ask, and atsumu grins and shrugs. “hmm, how about this. i’ll help coach take down team stats* today. i’ll give you a kiss for every service ace today.”

"god, yer the best. yer comin’ ta all my games from now on.”

“you’ll lose your fangirls, y’know,” you say, half-jokingly.

“don’t need em,” atsumu says, completely serious. he grins wildly at you. “yer all i need.”

atsumu had no shame breaking the hearts of his fangirls walking into the stadium with your hand in his, but the cherry on top was definitely the way he pointed at you before every serve. (he got 16 service aces that match.)

i miss volleyball… i miss competition szn… siiiiiigh

*team stats r like a lil sheet of paper for the coach to take down n keep track of every player’s performance in a match. points scored, mistakes, for spiking, receiving, setting, blocking, all that stuff. my ex used to come to my games and help me take down stats for me (and my whole team) so we could review my games tgt

[nanaslutt]

hello, i hope youre good !

may you please write one day about y/n sending hot pics for satoru ?

sorry if I spoke something wrong, english isnt my first language :] take ur time and have a good day ! 💞

Your english is perfect ml, please enjoy! <3

Contains: fem reader, established relationship, sending nudes, phone sex, mutual masturbation, he talks you through it, praise, DIRTY TALK

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"I don't know Shoko.. I've never sent him anything like this before." You groaned into your pillow, your voice through the phone coming out muffled on her end. "But you want to right?" She pushed, making you raise your head up from the sheets and sigh, "I doooo." You huffed out begrudgingly. "Great! Problem solved, the pictures you sent me were hot, but not too revealing, so you can send him something like that for starters." She replied, making you blush at her compliment.

You had recently bought a new set when you went out with Shoko for a girl's day. You had practically ripped the bag in half when you got home so you could get it on your body faster. Once you had on the garment you were posing left and right, making sure to take some sensual pictures for yourself later. Your boyfriend; Satoru; had texted you in the midst of your shenanigans, telling you how he was on his lunch break, making an idea pop into your head.

You wanted to show your man how good you looked, but thinking about sending Satoru; or anyone for that matter; nudes? That made you a little nervous. You quickly dialed up Shoko, she always knew just what to say, she was your hypewoman after all. After a quick convo she had successsfully pushed you in the direction you truly wanted; that being sending your boyfriend risque pictures while he was at work.

"Let me know how it goes, see ya." Shoko's voice echoed through the phone speaker before the tone indicating the call had ended rang through the room. You took a deep breath and rotated yourself on your bed, flopping your back against the pillows, still dressed in the pretty set, while you scrolled through the pictures you had taken-- trying to pick your favorites.

You settled on three for starters, it was an easy pick, only taking you a couple minutes to assess the best ones for Satoru. The first one you were on your side, body laid across the floor sensually as your arm rested on your hip, giving the viewer's eyes full access to your body. In the second picture, you were on your knees, you had placed your phone on the ground and set it to a timer so you could lean forward, making your thighs crease at the top, as you used to squeeze your breasts together.

The last photo was your favorite. You were sat on the floor, your legs folded and spread, the sheerness of the panties leaving little to the imagination in the lighting, while your hand once again rested against your tit, pushing and groping it in your hand while the other took a picture in the mirror, your phone covering most of you face save for a sliver of a smile that peeked out the side of the phone.

Your heart was racing, you knew Satoru would like the pictures, and you're pretty sure he would find you attractive in a trash bag, but you digressed, opening the chat to your lover.

Satoru <3: finally on lunch, yaga brought donuts today!

The picture attached was of the white-haired man laying back in his chair as he held his shirt up over his stomach to reveal his somehow still toned, but bloated tummy, an empty donut box in the background. Something told you that the donuts might've been for the kids, but Yaga should've known that bringing sweets around Satoru without anything for him was a recipe for disaster.

You laughed to yourself as you shook your head before responding. The two of you bantered back and forth about the subject for a while before he asked you what you were up to right now, which gave you the perfect excuse to send him the pictures. After sending an ominous 'you wanna see?' text, you clicked on the three gold medal winning pictures and sent them his way. You bit your lip between your teeth as you watched the blue bar at the top of the screen slowly slide across it, indicating it was sending.

Seconds before the pictures had been successfully sent, Satoru had started typing back his own response, which made you nervous because it meant he was in the chat and would see the photos sooner. Which is what you wanted, yes, but it didn't make it any less nerve-wracking.

When the little ‘delivered’ popped up underneath your pictures, quickly followed by a ‘read’ you held your breath. The three dots that indicated his typing stopped, then started, then stopped again. Uncertainty filled your body, did he not like the pictures? Was he mad you sent them while he was working?

You were snapped out of your stupor when your phone started vibrating in your hand, Satoru’s contact picture and name lighting up the phone as it rang. You quickly answered his call, readying yourself to apologize for being out of line, but before you could do so you heard a loud drawn out groan resonate from the speaker.

“You’re such a tease.” He pouted on the other side of the line, “I only have 5 minutes left on my lunch break and you just made me so fucking hard.” He groaned, making you sigh in relief as you registered his words. “I’m sorry Satoru, I felt pretty and wanted you to see,” you faux apologized, biting your lip as you looked around your room.

“And you do look so fucking pretty baby, that’s the problem.” He sighed, spinning himself around in his chair while he stared down at his erect cock that was tenting up his pants. He looked over at the large clock on his wall, which he mainly used for decoration, before sighing into the receiver. "Thank you, Satoru," You blushed. "I was going to send them when you texted me that you were on your lunch but our conversation wasn't really.. in that mood" You explained.

You heard his signature laugh from the other end, "Baby, I don't care if I just told you the school got attacked by a hoard of curses, if you have sexy pictures to show me you better not keep them from me." You rolled your eyes, you both knew he was exaggerating and you would never do such a thing, but his words made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside still. "Sorry Satoru, is it too late to tell you that I took more than the ones I sent you?" You giggled, biting your lip when you heard him groan in response.

"Fuckk, please send me those pictures baby~" He wined, reaching over to his wireless headphones as he popped onto into his ear so he could still hear you while he oggled your pictures, he wouldn't want anyone to hear this conversation after all. You were one step ahead of them, the delivered notification once again popped up on your screen as you sent him three more pictures, all more risque than the last.

In one your back was arched in the mirror, showing off the pretty decoration on the back of the panties. Another, you completely abandoned the bra of the set, leaving the panties on as you covered your nipples with your fingers, and one of the same vein of you holding the phone over your body while you lay on the bed, your arm squishing your tits in the bra together while it cupped over your panty-less cunt.

"Oh you're trying to kill me, look at that fucking arch." He groaned, covering his mouth with his hand as he took in the photos. "Baby you look so cute in that last one." He complimented, making you blush and giggle as you whispered out your thanks to him. He looked over to the clock once more, it was a couple minutes over the time he was supposed to be back and teaching the kids, but he figured if he was already late, what was a couple more minutes?

"Answer that," Satoru instructed, referring to the FaceTime request that popped up on your phone from him. You accepted it quickly, pulling your phone from your ear as you slid the green button over, smiling fondly when his flushed face popped into view. "You're so handsome, Satoru." You complimented, feeling your stomach start to tie itself in knots with how debauched he looked from just looking at the pictures you sent him, he was so clearly aroused.

"Oh shit, you still have it on?" He said, biting his lip as he set his phone down on the desk in front of him, giving you a full veiw of his body as he leaned back once more and startaed rubbing himself over his slacks. "Satoru what are you doing?" You asked with a laugh, surely it had been longer than five minutes now, he needed to get back to teaching. "Shh baby, they wont miss me for a couple more minutes ill make it quick." You imediately picked up on what he was insinuating.

"Look at how hard I am baby, I can't go out there looking like this." He wined, tipping his head to the side against his chair as he looked at you with a pout. "You're gonna take care of me too right?" You asked, giggling before you set up your own phone on your bed, using some pillows to stabilize it. The white-haired man scoffed before he started unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out, "Can't believe you just asked me that." He said, semi-faux offense plastering itself on his face, "Was there ever a time I've left you unsatisfied?" He asked, slapping his cock against his free hand when it was finally unobstructed from his too-tight pants.

You sat back on your heels and started massaging your tits in your hands, making the warmth in your stomach grow as you pretended to think, looking around the room as you hummed. "Oh, so you already forgot how I made you cum in under a minute before work yesterday morning?" He said confidently, beginning to stroke himself as he watched you push your covered tits together. "I barely have to touch you and you're a squirming mess, dont play with me." He huffed out a laugh, bringing his other hand down to massage his balls in his hand, really giving you a show.

"But you're not here right now, Satoru." You retorted, sliding one of your hands down your body slowly, making your way down to your cunt. "Maybe not, but just my words are making you all wet, huh?" He asked knowingly, pulling his lip between his teeth as he watched you tease yourself. You nodded, making him coo at you as you finally made it to your cunt as you started to rub small circles over your clit.

"Get comfortable for me baby, keep the set on." He instructed. You lay back against the pillows and spread your legs. The crotch of the panties had a little patch over your entrance that he couldn't see through, but every other part of the fabric was almost completely sheer, except for the fact that your wetness was seeping through them little by little and making them see through the more you teased yourself.

"Play with your nipples while you rub yourself baby." He groaned, trying to keep his voice relatively quiet as he was in his office. "This is so dirty." You giggled, following his instructions. You rubbed small circles against your panty-clad clit while you pinched your nipple through the fabric of the unpadded bra.

The two of you have tried many things sexually throughout the entirety of your relationship together, but somehow, have never thought of getting off together over the phone. When Satoru was gone on missions the two of you would send dirty messages back and forth, saying how bad you missed each other, but nothing to this extent. This was opening a whole new world for the both of you, and it would be something you would definitely do again.

"Good fucking girl. Goddd, what I wouldn't give to bend you over right now and fuck you into the bed." He groaned, his strokes picking up pace while he watched your body jerk and twitch under your ministrations. "Yeah?" You encouraged, rubbing yourself faster and harder as your cunt clenched around nothing, aching for him to fill you up.

"Yes baby, want you to fuck yourself back on my cock too, wanna watch your little pussy swallow up my dick." He continued, rambling as the wet strokes on his dick emanated louder through the room. "Pull your panties aside and touch yourself, gotta see your pretty pussy." He grit through his teeth, as he tried to keep his eyes from rolling back in his had. You did as told, pulling the fabric aside you exposed your twitching clit and pulsing hole, a string of your arousal that connected to the panties failed to excape his eyes, making Satoru's cock twitch.

"Touch yourself, baby, pretend it's me touching you." He groaned, letting his jaw drop as he watched your fingers come in contact with the little bud, beginning to rub quick circles against it, just like he always does. "L-like this Toru?" You asked, needing him to praise you right now. "Just like that baby, doing so good for me, so fucking perfect." He groaned, shaking his head back and forth as he watched your smaller fingers work yourself through your orgasm.

"Shit, wanna feel your cunt squeezing me so bad, can see her twitching." He whined, making you blush in embarrassment at how exposed you were. Satoru's leg started bouncing against the floor at how fast he was working himself up. "P-please, fuck me Toru', fuck me-" You whimpered, getting lost in the sensation as you tipped your head back against the pillows and dropped your other hand down to the opening of your pussy, slowly sliding them inside your walls and starting up a blissful pace as you curled them up towards your sweet spot.

"Yes fuck your pussy for me, baby, yesyesyes." The man rambled, his back beginning to arch off the chair with how close he was. The squelching emitting from your cunt was going to send him over the edge, he so desperately wanted to pull your inadequate fingers out and lick them clean before he replaced them with his own. "Faster baby, cmon, get yourself there." He begged, slowing his strokes against his cock to let you get closer to your orgasm so the two of you could cum together. "I-I'm fuck S-satoru- Right there- right there-" You moaned, losing yourself in your fantasy as you fucked your fingers harder and deeper into yourself.

"Yeah? Right there? You like when I fuck you right there?" He slurred, clenching his teeth together as he picked up his pace once more, beginning to fuck his hips up into his hand. "Yes Toru- G-gonna- gonna cum-" You wined, your voice raising in pitch as you dropped your chin down to the screen in front of you, watching the show he was so kindly putting on for you as the sight pushed you over the edge.

"M-me too- Gonna fill you up cutie- fucking- take it-" Satoru groaned, hot ropes of cum spurting from his dick as his torso curled in slightly, his abs clenching and body jerking with the force of his orgasm. He watched intently as you snapped your legs shut around your hand, he saw the muscles in your forearm moving, praising you for working yourself through it as wave after wave of your high crashed over you. "Good girl, good fucking girl." He praised, slowing his strokes on his cock as he worked himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

"S-shit" Your body relaxed against the sheets once more, your legs staying shut as you relished in the friction your closed thighs brought to your cunt as you came down from your orgasm. You heard your boyfriend giggle, dropping your knees down to the side you looked down at the screen and noticed that he was wiping his cock clean and tucking himself back into his pants. "Whew, 3 minutes, and I didn't even touch you." He praised himself, making you laugh and roll your eyes at him as you sat up to grab your phone in your hand and lay it against the side of the bed with you as you laid down.

"You could say the same for me too you know." you retorted, making him smirk. "Yeah, you could, made me make a huge fucking mess." He giggled, staring at you lovingly through the phone. "You look beautiful." He said, making hearts practically form in your eyes as you thanked him. "Clean yourself up before you fall asleep, I'll be home soon, okay?" He said, raising his eyebrows at you as he waited for your answer before he ended the call.

"Okay Satoru, hurry please." You added the two of you said your goodbyes, he blew you an animated-looking kiss before he hung up the call. You sighed, dropping your hand against the sheets as you smiled to yourself, you couldn't wait for him to get home.

After giving yourself a couple more seconds to lie there, you sat up, heading his words as you started to get yourself cleaned up. You paused in your ministrations when your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up as Satoru's name popped up on the screen. You decided to check his message before you left for the bathroom, your jaw dropped and your body tensed when you opened his message.

There was a picture of Satoru's impressive-sized softening cock that rested on his hand, his length and hand alike covered in his cum with a message attached. When did he even have time to take that picture?

Satoru <3: Keep the set on till I get home please~

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hazbin Hotel Headcanons

"We are Just Friends" "Just friends I thought I was your wife" Hazbin Men x Reader

Guess who's baaaaaack, it's ya fav writer Luna, whoot whoot

Lucifer

He was over the moon the first time someone mistook you two for a couple. He really thought it was his time to shine next to you, only for you to deny it right in front of him.

As the two of you grew closer and closer, the more 'friend' things you did, the more it looked like a 'couple' thing, from cuddling on the couch to holding hands at the mall.

When your actual friends started calling you a couple, he knew something was up. Not only do you tell your friends everything, but the giggles and pointing really laid it in for him that you may have some feelings.

By the time you were out in public again and you got called a couple he was quick to interject in the conversation to make sure it was clear that you two were actually a couple.

When you questioned him about it he was all smiles and giggles. It went a lil something like this:

You had pulled Lucifer from the man talking to you just moments ago. "Lucifer, what the heck? We aren't even dating."

He just smiled at you and shrugged, pulling you close to himself. "Well, to me, this looks like a date, a pretty person out and about with a pretty handsome devil."

You slapped his arm and rolled your eyes, trying to get the previous man's attention to let him know you were just friends. Then Lucifer chimed in, "Just friends, Y/N. You wound me. I thought I was your husband."

Needless to say, this whole interaction definitely helped you two confess your underlying feelings and start actually dating. So, there was a lot of good to come from some silly shenanigans.

Adam

Initially, he was against anything tying you two together. I mean, come on, he is the first dick. After all, he can have anyone he wants. Until he started catching real feelings for you.

When it was mistaken that you two were a couple after he started falling for you, he would loudly proclaim he was your husband, and you would just laugh and giggle.

Sometimes, you would correct him, especially in front of the seraphim or executioners, that you were just friends, but Adam was always there to tell everyone he was your husband.

He only saw hope that you would drop the foolish idea that you weren't his when you blushed at him, grabbing your hand and telling a winner about how he married you not too long ago.

The last time that you tried to correct someone on your and Adam's relationship, it went a little like this:

You shook your head, giggling at Adam's antics, and looked at Sera. "We are not married, I have no ring, and I am single."

Adam gasped and summoned a hundred different rings. "That's okay bitch. I can fix that. Take your pick. I am the first man, after all."

You blushed and shook your head, telling Sera you were close friends. Her knowing eyes read you like a book on how much you wanted to be more. Then Adam jumped in. "Babes, we're just friends. Are you serious? I am your husband; just let it happen, please."

Shortly after this incident, Sera had a long talk with Adam about how he should ask to be your boyfriend first, then maybe move on up to husband status.

Vox

He was content having you around, even if it stung every time you called him just your friend. He was happy he had a friend who genuinely cared.

He would, however, pout and give you too much space and distance when you would correct people that you were just friends. He wasn't petty, no, never. He just cared about you not being mistaken and not making you uncomfortable.

It was brought to his attention by the other Vees that you and he were uncharacteristically close for people deeming themselves "just friends." You two were glued to each other, giggling and bringing out your best selves.

When he realized this, he slowly stopped correcting people and would even butt in before you could correct them, just letting all of hell slowly think you and Vox were together.

The last time you ever corrected someone that you and Vox were just friends went a little like this:

You were watching one of Vox's live streams and saw an influx of messages asking where you were and when you two started dating. You sighed. "We are not dating. We are just friends!"

Vox short-circuited and turned to look at you. Quickly, he dragged you to his lap, setting you down and hugging you in front of everyone. "They are shy and don't want you all to know I am their husband."

You gasped and blushed brightly, trying to pry yourself out of Vox's grasp, but he held you tight and laughed with a big, bright smile.

Once the stream was over, a lengthy discussion ensued about the meanness of messing with one's emotions. Only then did you realize no feelings were messed with, and Vox was dead serious.

Alastor

With Alastor, it was all on the flip side. He was adamant that you two were just friends—good, good friends. However, you always longed for more and were hurt when the words left his lips.

He somehow always managed to miss your pouts and groans whenever the situation seemed to care how it affected you when he harshly told the world that all you were was a friend.

You found it hard to believe that you two were just friends when you did so much together, more than he and Rosie. You were always in his studio, sitting right next to him as he required while drinking tea that he especially makes for you and no one else.

You finally caved in and spoke to Rosie about the mixed signals her best friend was giving you, only for her to reconfirm your suspicions that no one else entirely lived in Alastors heart like you did.

The last time you let him ever call you just friends went a little like this:

Rosie sat across from you two as Alastor made your tea, a knowing look on her face. Before she spoke, you knew she would make the comment you always dreamed about your and Alastor's relationship. Sure enough, Alastor was quick to respond, "Rosie, dear, we are just friends. How many times do I have to tell you?"

Alastor's crisp voice rang out, and you were distraught. However, you had other ideas. You gently touched Alastors hand and smiled at Rosie. "Oh, he is too shy to admit he has a partner now."

The blush that reached both of your faces was priceless as you two looked at one another, and Alastor froze, spilling tea everywhere.

After your tea party, you sat down in Alastor's recording studio to discuss the intricacies of your relationship. As soon as Alastor finally admitted to his feelings, it just so happened that he 'accidentally' broadcasted your confessions live for all to hear.