#Demonology: Incubus | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seonghwaddict · 8 months ago

Text

to taint your soul — choi san

in which apparently even the daughter of an exorcist is not safe from the corruption of an incubus.

incubus!choi san x exorcist’s daughter!fem!reader. genre. smut, angst, southern gothic vibes. warnings. barely any plot, religious themes, religious guilt, swearing, explicit sexual content mdni, corruption, loss of virginity, masturbation (f.), referenced dacryphilia, fingering, referenced oral (f.), manhandling?, multiple orgasms, rough and gentle, big dick!san, creampie, marking, nicknames (angel, pretty girl, sweet girl, sweetheart). wc. 7.3k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. i should do more mythological characters!ateez cuz i enjoyed writing this and the lamb and the wolf. the demonology book/text here is partially from The Encylopedia of Demons and Demonology by Rosemary Ellen Guiley, but i made up some parts for the sake of the story. THIS FIC DOES NOT REPRESENT ANY OF MY OPINIONS AND I DO NOT INTEND TO OFFEND ANYONE.

listening to. burning desire, lana del rey // gibson girl, ethel cain // lilies, ethel cain & mercy necromancy // ptolemaea, ethel cain // heaven, taemin

masterlist.

you were cursed from the moment you were born.

the idea of being cursed or haunted by anything isn’t one you think about often, considering yourself protected by your father’s profession. at least one dusty bible on every bookshelf in the colonial monstrosity that is your home and crucifixes hung all around, it seems to be common sense that an exorcist’s home would be the safest place to hide from the dark.

unaware of it all, you used to let yourself be tucked into your lace-trimmed bedsheets as he pulled you to sleep with stories. tales of fallen angels and possessed souls became the lullabies of your childhood. admittedly, you were quite terrified of it all, but as you grew older and wiser, you realised there was no way they could get to you. but really, it was wishful thinking.

you weren’t aware of who your father used to be, nor were you aware of the debt he owed to a particular demon.

the dreams started the night after your twentieth birthday, vivid and unsettling. a man haunted them, equally as terrifying as he was handsome. tall and clad in dark silks, his whispered words and hungry eyes intrigued you. his touch, though a figment of your imagination, sent shivers down your spine, foreign yet infinitely alluring. you’d wake up with a jolt, panting, flushed cheeks and tingling skin as the dream stuck to you like cobwebs. your father passed the repeated dreams off as nightmares and you failed to notice the flash of fear cross his features.

one night, however, you were changing in your room. dimly illuminated by multiple candles you set around since you didn’t like how bright the large chandelier was, you held a dress in each of your hands, standing in front of the mirror as you held the clothing to your body in an attempt to figure out what to wear. you didn’t notice at first, but a figure lurked in the shadows of the bedroom. you didn’t notice the shift in the atmosphere or the flicker of the candles.

but soon, a soft sigh sounded through the room, so soft it could’ve been mistake for a whistling breeze outside your window. goosebumps prickled at your skin as you tensed, refusing to move at the oddly human sound. staring at yourself in the mirror intently, you caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the reflection of your mirror. your breath hitched as you fixed your eyes on him, afraid that if you blinked, he’d disappear.

you watched him. watched him take slow steps towards you as he smirked at the sight of your wide, fearful yet infinitely pure and innocent eyes. you convinced yourself you were hallucinating, the disturbingly realistic sounds of his footsteps as much of a figment of imagination as his being. but as he stood right behind you, a coldness swept over your skin and you flinched as his breath fanned against your bare shoulder. whipping around in surprise, you yelped softly at the sensation. but he was gone, and you were alone. breath erratic and eyes stinging, you scrambled to move a wooden cross stand from the top of your dresser to your bedside table.

after that you grew paranoid, always looking over your shoulder, sleeping with at least two safe and reliable candles lit. each time you walked through the hallways of your own home, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to look at the portraits lining the dark walls as you thought they were watching you. the tiniest of sounds made you flinch and break a sweat, squeezing your eyes shut and muttering prayers, only to find out the sound came from either of your parents.

the constant state of fear and anxiety left you tired, deciding if your father wasn’t going to do anything about it, you would. on quiet feet, you crept through the halls at noon (you were too scared to go to that room at night), a rosary wrapped around your hand with a dainty little cross hanging from your clenched palm.

you father really was a well-known exorcist, often to go on trips within and beyond the country to treat what doctors couldn’t; demonic possessions. as a symbol of his successes and a means to prevent others from coming in contact with whatever a demon may have attached itself to, he brought home trophies and locked them in a little storage room in the basement. of course, he took many precautions—crucifixes all over the inside and outside, sprinkles of holy water here and there, he’d have your local priest come over and bless the area himself. despite all this, you never once stepped in, partially because your father advised you not to, mostly because you were completely and utterly terrified.

as you descended the creaking wooden stairs, a chill ran through you, the hairs at your nape standing in alert. maybe you were scaring yourself more than the room scared you. the dust tickled your nostrils, making you force down a sneeze as you cleared your throat. the wooden floorboards extended into a narrow hallway, lined by cobblestone walls. you rarely came down, in fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you were there, the surroundings seeming so foreign. there were only two doors, one leading to a storage closet and the other to a slightly scarier storage closet.

you stared up at the ominous door, standing tall and intimidating, a golden cross embossed right in the centra, doorknob dark and rusted. with shaky hands, you fished a copper from the hidden pocket of your plaid gown. it half-hearted a few sloppy attempts until you got the key in, squeezing your eyes shut as you force yourself to finally turn it.

another chill ran through your body as you push the door open weakly, cracking an eye open to look inside. had you come at night, you wouldn’t have been able to see anything, the only source of light being an elongated shirt window lining the top of the right wall, an inch below the ceiling. three shelves. one on the right, one of the left, and one down the middle of the room. the middle and left one were lined with various objects. you walked between them, looking but not daring to touch. the objects were quite diverse, you realised. dolls, clocks, little statues.

you took your time to get to the shelf you needed. along with these objects, you father also locked away any books he had that were related to demons in any way. most of them were confiscated from cults, some of their were from his personal collection. he claimed they were to protect you, and you didn’t completely disbelieve him. taking a deep breath before letting it out in a sigh, looking at all the titles. your fingertips ran over their leather bound spines, feeling the wrinkles and grooves. you knew there would be a lot, but as you looked upon the entire shelf, you estimated a good hundred-fifty books.

he organised them by categories. summoning, excommunication, identifying. identifying. that’s what you needed. you took a closer look at the section, nervousness fading briefly to be replaced by a faint taste of hope.

the encyclopaedia of demons and demonology.

deciding there had to be something in there, you pulled it out. the book itself was simple, bound in black leather. the cover was nothing special, just the title and author. by the looks of it, you’d be here for a while, seemingly at least three hundred pages long. you looked around the dark room, a small wooden desk was tucked into the corner though not a chair in sight. with a soft sigh, you walked over on weak knees, apprehensive about what you’d find in the book.

despite your father’s profession and all the bedtime stories, you never came in contact with demons or the spirit world. setting the book on the desk, you opened it to the index, having to squint to make out the text. but the next time you lifted your eyes off the page, a brass candle holder was tucked into the corner of the table.

you blinked. there was no way that was there before, but maybe you had just missed it. the pale yellow candle stood half melted, the hardened wax forming veins that ran down the sides and pooled in the brass bowl.

you held your breath momentarily before beginning to read through the a to z list of demons and other dark entities and their descriptions. you only skimmed, lingering on any that mentioned appearing in nightmares only to dismiss them when the rest of their descriptions didn’t match with your experience. surprised by just how much there was to read, you felt just a little curious, occasionally stopping to read extracts that had piqued your interest. it wasn’t until you got all the way to section i where something actually seemed to be helpful.

‘incubus—a lewd male demon who pursues women for sex. the incubus and his female counterpart, the succubus, visit women and men in their sleep, lie and press heavily upon them, and seduce them.’

you nearly missed it, continuing your skimming until the description registered, scrambling to turn back the page and reread it.

“oh.” you breathed at the realisation. that seemed to be the most accurate thus far, your finger tracing over the name as you furrowed your eyebrows and continued reading. the next paragraphs detailed how they’re conjured and where the name came from. you read some more.

‘incubi are especially attracted to women with beautiful hair, young virgins, chaste widows, and all “devout” females. nuns are among the most vulnerable and could be molested in the confessional as well as in bed. while the majority of women are forced into sex by the incubi, some of them submit willingly and even enjoy the act. it once was a common belief that women were more likely than men to be the sexual victims of demons, because women were inferior to men and less able to resist temptation.

incubi have enormous phalluses that—’

slamming the book shut, your eyes widened and a deep blush settled over your features, just staring at the cover for a moment as you collected yourself from the sudden vulgarity of the writing. after a moment, you cleared your throat and reopened the page, strategically skipping over the next paragraphs that detailed accounts of intercourse with such a demon.

‘an incubus may form attachments to those whose minds are occupied with dark and inherently sexual desires, those that are impure. one also can be summoned for coital gratifications, or a deal in which one’s first born is ommonly offered to repay their sevices (see: dealing with the demons, page 218).’

but that couldn’t be right. you always made sure to be a good girl, always helped at home. you volunteered to read to children at a local orphanage, always helped with charities and donations, always assisted people where you knew you could, stayed soft spoken and always began your requests with please and ended them with thank you. you kept to yourself most of the time, would never dare to raise your voice at anyone, never had any romantic interest, let alone sexual ones.

admittedly, the dreams involving the man— the demon had you waking up with an uncomfortable stickiness between your thighs. but before that, you never indulged. after that, you never indulged either, instead jumping from your bed and taking an ice could bath to calm yourself from the strange feeling. the temptations were always there and were always strong, but your want to be immaculate was stronger. to be free of sin.

a deal in which one’s first born is offered.

it seemed impossible, almost. you knew your father was a righteous man and your mother a pure woman. but where your mother happily shared stories of her childhood as heart-warming anecdotes, your father only dropped tidbits of his memories despite considering you two to be extremely close. you always chalked it up to him being a little boring or generally not very open. but maybe there was more to it…

“there you go, sweetheart.”

you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice, pushing the book away from you as you turned around a little too quickly, your knee knocking against the edge of the table.

there he stood, barely illuminated by the singular window as he took slow steps towards you much like the other day.

“so, you’ve finally figured it out, huh?”

each time he took a step, his muscles visible through the loose black silk, you inched away until the top of your thigh hit the wooden table, your hands bracing themselves on it to keep you from collapsing in fear. the closer he got, the more you realised just how attractive he was. broad-shouldered and radiating confidence, his feline eyes roamed over your figure. depite wearing a white gown that reached all the way down to your ankles, you felt so exposed.

tongue swiping along his bottom lip, drawing your attention to the action. he towered over you, making you feel weak and small as he trapped you against the table. your heart pounded against your ribcage and you feared it would break free and fall into his hands, unsure if the warmth on your cheeks and ump in your throat came from how utterly petrified you were or the way his breath fanned over your face like a whisper.

“your dearest father isn’t who he says he is,” he pouted mockingly, coming to a stop inches in front of you, letting his gaze settle on your quivering lips for a moment, “and me? well, you know what i am. and you also know we can have lots of fun if you allow it.”

your lips parted to speak but no words came out, instead opting to press them into a thin line and squeezing your eyes shut as you shook your head. you weren’t completely sure why you wer shaking your head, but if it would stop the incubus from tainting you, it was worth a try.

“don’t kid yourself, princess. i can smell how wet you are.” as if to emphasise his point, he inhaled deeply, leaning forward to ghost his nose over the slope of your neck without touching you.

it wasn’t until he said it that you notice you had been squeezing your thighs together, feeling warm all over and you stomach twisted in knots at the sound of his deep voice. something ached in your lower regions, but you tried your hardest to resist the thoughts.

but a little voice in the back of your head urged you to tilt your head back, to give him permission, to let his hands explore your untouched body. maybe just this once you could allow yourself to give in, to let your knees go weak and worry about begging for forgiveness later.

“all you have to do is drop the rosary.”

you gripped it tighter at the reminder of the protective object tangled between your fingers, fighting to keep your sanity intact. your breath hitched as you felt one of his fingers run along the beads, not daring to come close to the little silver cross or your skin.

“c’mon, pretty girl. drop it,” you heard the smirk in his voice, “let it go and i’ll take good care of you, i can make you feel things you’ve never thought of… i can make you feel alive, wouldn’t you love that? don’t you want to feel the desire? taste the lust?”

“n-no,” you gasped finally, finding your words, “it’s not right.“

he laughed, a low rumble from his chest, “i promise you’ll love being ruined by me,” he said, withdrawing his hand from yours, “i swear to all your precious little holy symbols, i know i can get you to want me.”

he moved closer and for a maddening moment you thought he was going to kiss you. faintly, you wanted him to. to feel the push of his lips against yours, to let his hands snake around your waist or grip your hips to pull you closer. there’s a ring on his index finger, you noticed, silvery and sharp, a symbol you didn’t recognise yet imagine him pressing it against your throat, branding your neck anew until it’s red and faithful. and maybe you crave for him to undo all the things in you that are holy.

“just drop it, pretty,” his breath teased your lips and you almost leaned forward in curiosity, wanting to see how just one kiss would feel, “i know you’re a good girl.”

those words. they’re almost enough for you to give in. how did he know those would strike a nerve, hit you where he knew it would work? not only did all your efforts ultimately lead to the same goal—purity, goodness—but you couldn’t deny the satisfaction you felt from reassurance. if you were an animal, you’d strive to be the priest’s favourite sacrificial lamb. to hold so very still and to bleed so prettily when the knife final comes down, to be reborn and be chosen all over again.

“don’t you get it?” he whispered, “i live inside you the same way you’re bound to live inside me. we’re a moebius strip, a never ending cycle of a snake eating it’s own tail. maybe it will end in destruction, but that’s your dear father’s doing. mutually assured destruction, maybe; you say yes, i’ll ruin you for everyone else, blacken the wool of your fur coat. you say no to me, i will suffer the consequences of not fulfilling a deal. you wouldn’t want someone to suffer because of you, hm?”

your grip on the rosary loosened and let your eyes finally flutter open. from this proximity, you could see every detail of his face and the image seared into your mind.

something in his eyes darkened as his lips curled, a playful smile, a predatory grin. the way he looked at you made you want to combust into flames, to fall to your knees, you skin rubbed raw on the ground as you beg him to make you feel.

“you don’t look so innocent anymore, you know? you’re docile and sweet, yes, but you’re not as pure as you think you are, there’s a little dirt in your pristine heart, a little lustful stain you can’t erase.”

“y-you’re wrong!” you protested, trying to convince yourself he was lying, “i’m good and i’ve always been good and i always will be good and i will not for the devil’s influence.”

“oh, but i’m not,” he pouted mockingly, moving his head back just an inch, looking down at you, “you’re practically shaking, so close to giving in… you’re the most pious girl here, yet you’re so close to sin, so close to me.”

you opened your mouth to continue your protests but flinched as you heard familiar heavy footsteps, looking up at the little window to see the familiar boots of your father about to enter the house after a long day of work. he was out, casting out malicious spirits and demons, and here you were, about to let one deflower you. the realisation seemingly made you come back to your senses, clenching the roary in your hand once more and looking for a way past him.

but… what would you even do afterwards? confront your father, the town’s devout exorcist, for making deals with the incubus in front of you? would he call you crazy, deny everything and treat you like just another one of his clients?

the footsteps were now above you, you could faintly hear him saying something to your mother though you couldn’t quite make out what it was. you’d never been as afraid of anything as you were of your own father, standing right above you, acting like he hadn’t damned you from the day you were conceived.

as if he could read your thoughts, could sense your panic that was completely unrelated to him, the incubus stepped back. his face was unreadable as his glazed over eyes fixated on you.

“don’t worry, sweet girl, i can wait. the longer you resist, the better it’ll feel when you finally surrender,” he gave you a small smile, different from the previous grins and smirks, as he nodded towards the window, “go.”

you could’ve run away the moment he stepped back, yet you didn’t move until he gave you the permission. you didn’t dwell on that fact as you slipped past him and reached up, shaky hands undoing the latch and opening outwards. you attempted to climb up, your arms burning as you tried lifting yourself, only to give up, panting softly from the effort.

“let me help you.” his voice offered, prompting you to look back at him. the seductive glint in his eyes was no longer there, taking a small step forward. “just… put it down, i promise i’ll help you and leave.”

you stared at him for a long moment. there was something so different in the way he looked at you now, suddenly soft and with good intentions. the voice of your father calling your name snapped you out of your stupor, nodding hurridely as you placed the rosary on the grass outside carefully before turning to look at him.

he gestured for you to turn away, your hands finding your hips as you did. the contact made you breath hitched, despite your layers of clothing between your curves and his hands, your stomach tickled with swarming butterflies as he lifted you up. the heat of his body behind yours distracted you for a moment, taken aback at how real he felt, how human he felt, even as he lifted you with ease.

you braced your forearms on the ground, pulling yourself up the rest of the way as he spoke.

“whisper my name three times, and i’ll be summoned wherever you are, ready to fulfill your needs.”

you stayed quiet for a moment, just sitting on the ground as you looked down at him, now able to see his full face clearning from his proximity to the window. “what’s your name?”

“san,” he smiled, “choi san.”

you loked away, up at your house as your father’s concerned voice called out your name again. “i should get going, but–,” you looked down to thank him, only to find an empty room and a sealed window. your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, voiced trailing off, “thank you…”

the first time you touched yourself, it was san you were thinking about.

late at night, your parents fast asleep, a storm ragin outside, but all you could do was think about him. you tried, you really did. you tried to go back in the house and pretend everything was fine, that you had just been on a walk and your flushed face was from the excercise. secretely, all you could think about was him. how you wanted him to show up again—wanted him to make your breath hitch and your heart jump. wanted him to soothe whatever it was that ached inside you; the burn in the pit of your stomach, the spot where your waist met your hips, but most of all between your legs, were it had never ached like this before.

you excused yourself from dinner earlier, went to bed, and tried so desperately to fall asleep. whether it was to forget about it all, or to meet him in your dreams again, you couldn’t tell. you really tried, but haunting thoughts of how his hands held onto you rolled into your mind with images of all the things he could do to you. the raspy lilt of his voice, sometimes soft, sometimes commanding in a way that made your limbs feel like jello at the mere thought of it. his sharp eyes and sharp jaw and such tempting lips. he could have a kind face if he wanted to, yet his toned body, visible and obvious despite trying to hide behind his clothing, screamed sex appeal.

flashes from your previous dreams raced through your mind too. fragments of images where you could feel his hands all over you, his dark hair sticking to his sweat forehead, eyes rolled back from the pleasure he gave himself while you were forced to watch. you never quite gave in in the dreams either.

you tossed and turned in your bed, thighs pressed together so tight you worried you’d have long bruises down your inner thighs the next morning. the new feeling felt much too large for your fragile mind, overwhelming you, making your loose clothes feel suffocating. it wouldn’t leave you alone, wouldn’t let you sleep. mostly because you didn’t want to give the feeling a name, you refused to speak its name, even in your mind, even if it could identify this feeling.

pent-up and strained, coiled into yourself in a foetal position, you could only roll onto your back and let your hand trail down your body, hiking up the long skirt of your nightgown before letting your fingers dip between your thighs, spread at the knees. you let out a shaky gasp as you felt the wetness pooled beneath your undergarments, clamping your other hand over your lips. after feeling around experimentally, your fingers found a quick pace, rubbing over your clit, more desperate than they had ever been. your hand muffled your gasped out moans and whimpers, tears pricking at your eyes—partly from the guilt, mostly from the pleasure. you felt your heart beat all over your body, most of all right below your moistened fingertips.

shaky breaths and muffled needy cries were covered by both your hand and the storm outside your window. if hurts a little, your clit swelling as more and more slick coats it and the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. but you don’t mind the pain, you think you deserve it, because after all, it’s forbidden and it’s not supposed to feel good. san is not supposed to make you feel so good. a demon was the one thing that wasn’t supposed to be on your mind, especially not in this way.

the thought of him made your hand move faster and suddenly your breath was stuttering and your core pulse as you finish quickly, biting down on your lip, hard enough to cut through the skin, to muffle your cries. when you came down from your high, you lay there for a few moments longer, heart racing as you glance at the door to make sure it was still closed. and when you realised what you had just done, shame clouded your lungs as you slipped your fingers out of your panties and raised them to your face.

your hands came away sticky. transparents webs of your pleasure linking your index and middle fingers together as you stared in horror before finally collecting yourself and jumping from your bed to scrub the sin from your hands in your bathroom.

you scrubbed until your fingers turned red and your palms raw, losing sensation from the ice cold water, the guilt sinking deeper and deeper the longer you took to cleanse your body. you hadn’t noticed the tears running down your cheeks until you stared at yourself in the mirror, sniffling and glossy-eyed. your body might be clean, but were you? if you wanted to be immaculate, how could you let yourself do such a thing?

it was his fault, really. him and his midnight eyes and electric touches and words that would drive you to madness, damnation.

you changed your panties and nightgown, burying them in your laundry basket as if you were burying the evidence of a crime. once done, you wanted nothing more than to sink into your bed and fall asleep. but as you stared at what you once thought was comforting, you could only think about your soft whimpers and shaking thighs. so you stripped your bed naked to decorate it anew with clean sheets and blankets and pillows, shoving the previous ones under your bed before finally falling into a deep sleep.

shame followed you like a pest for the next days, unable to properly smile because all you could think about was what you had done. and what you wanted to do. a heavy melancholy washed over you in these days, confining yourself to your room when ou didn’t have to come down for meals. if your parents picked up on it, they didn’t say anything. maybe they knew. what if they know?

maybe they didn’t say anything because they knew about san. perhaps they thought it was fate, that you would give in sooner or later. despite cracking a bit, you stood by your conviction that you wouldn’t, no matter what, summon him.

but… was he really so bad? had you not seen a moment of softness when he helped you? demons were, after all, fallen angels. could it really be so impossible he still had a sprinkle of previous angeilc qualities? silently, you were thankful he hadn’t showed up on his own again. if he did, you were afraid you’d throw away all sense of faith and throw yourself into his arms, let him kiss you and lick you and suck you and bite you and everything in between.

despite all this, despite not wanting to summon him, you couldn’t deny the unsettling feeling weighing you down with each step. it had been there before—before whatever happened in the basement—dragging your seemingly heavy limbs through vacant hallways. but when he touched you, when his fingertips brushed against yours as he touched the shiny black beads of your rosary even though he didn’t mean to, when his hands lifted you into the air and helped you escape, the way he talked to you, his words and tone, that unsettling feeling had been lifted off your shoulders.

you noticed, for a brief moment, when you spent that short amount of time with him, you had no desire to think of god or rules or expectations. even if it was for a split second, it happened, and perhaps that what terrified you the most. just wanted to be, something you hadn’t been allowed for so long.

so when your parents said they’d be out late for some dinner you had no interest in attending, you paced around your room, deep in thought as your typical long nightgown tickled your ankles. millions of thoughts raced through your kind but, at the core, they were all the same. san, san, san. you felt like he had attached himself to your very soul, and you’re not quite sure how it happened.

without thinking, you stopped your pacing, glancing at the crucifix on your bedside table, a reminder. you couldn’t take it anymore, reaching out to take the wooden symbol and hide it in your closet. was it really wrong if it was still there, only trapped behind the wooden double doors, nestled between your skirts and shirts and gowns and gowns? out of sight, you felt less bad about what you were going to do.

your eyes squeezed shut and you did as he told you to, lips parting to whisper his name thrice. almost instantly, a gust of wind blew through your room and you knew there was someone else there with you. your eyes remained shut until you heard footsteps stalking towards you, his familiar voice filling the eerie silence of the room.

“hello, angel,” he grinned, borderline menacing, as he backed you up against your dresser. much like before, you were trapped, the back of your thighs pressed against the wood. only this time, you weren’t afraid, “i knew you’d give in sooner rather than later.”

you didn’t reply, didn’t know how to reply, only breathing shallowly, fingers curling into the edge of your dresser as you glanced from his eyes to his lips repeatedly.

“you need to give me permission, you know,” he chuckled, tilting his head to the side, “there are rules for deals such as these.”

“please.” you breathed, somewhere between a whisper and a needy whine as your round eyes looked up at him so desperately.

as soon as the word left you, his lips were on yours. hungry, devouring you, sucking on your bottom lip like it’s a candy as you can’t help but melt and whimper against him. his hand found your cheek, the touch surprisingly soft compared to the madness of his kisses. your heart rattled against your ribcage like a bird wanting to escape its confines. his saccharine saliva seeped into your mouth as his tongue broke past your lips, running over your teeth and the roof of your mouth as you let him do whatever he wanted.

his hands are all over you and yours are all over him, grabbing at each other because there was no way to get any closer like this. your thoughts, unlike before, are completely quiet, head empty and drunk on the sloppy kisses, mouthfuls of teeth clashing against each other. he was supposed to be gentle, he wanted to be gentle, yet now you’re pressed against the dresser and he’s kissing you hard.

it was wrong, but it felt too good. that was clear from the moment your kisses turn open-mouthed, lips clinging and tongues dancing. you shivered as both his hands held you by your hips once more, lifting you to sit on the edge of the oak furniture, caressing your hips bones through the thin fabric of your dress.

your hands rug at his shirt lightly, a silent plea for him to remove it, wanting to see and feel every inch of his divine body. he complies, separating his lips from your to reach over his shoulder and grip the silky shirt from the back, pulling it over his head, tossing it aside. your hands explore his naked torso, fingernails scratching along his skin as he loses himself in the taste of your kisses.

his hands dragged the long skirt of your gown up your legs, fingers ghosting over the supple skin of your calves and thighs before letting the cloth bunch up at your hips, winding your legs around his waist before lifting you off the dresser. you cling to him the way the thought of him cling to you for so long before this as he carries you. he lays you down gently, your head spinning as he kneeled on the edge of your bed and leaned over you, moving his lips from yours to mouth at your neck.

his hot breaths dance along your skin, across your collarbone, neck, pressing wet kisses down to the fabric covering your chest. you gasped softly as he brushed his teeth against your skin, a reminded that he could really break you if he wanted, but the feel of his lips against the curve of your neck, testing out the waters of your shoulder, made the intimidating thought vanish.

he teases the skin just above your neckline with nibbles that have you throwing your head back with soft whimpers, only encouraging him as his left hand kept one of your legs hitched up against his hips and his right undid the ribbons at the back of your dress. the fabric loosens and slips around, one sleeve falling over your shoulder slightly as he sat you up a little and pulled the dress over your head, discarding it and leaving you in your white ruffled bra and panties.

you’re dizzy, delirious with thirst—for his touch, his kisses, for everything his sharp lips could give you, for him to relieve the ache between your legs. you shiver as you’re left bare, nipples peaking through your bra, undergarments barely hiding your most precious parts. you try covering yourself with shaking arms, despite the little fabric still be there, but his hands move them aside, pulling them to rest on his bare chest. his eyelids flutter for a moment at the contact, your hands so much colder than his.

he leans back to look at your, hand at your back winding around to massage a handful of one breast, watching your breath hitch. “such a pretty girl, and all for me.”

“san…” you whimper aimlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“such an angel,” he teases again, thumb circling over your clothed nipple lightly, grinning at how helpless you looked, “supposedly protected by your father, by god, yet here you are, practically begging for a demon to fuck you.”

he presses himself closer and you can feel the thick and heavy weight of his cock smudge against your core, gasping softly as you eyes roll back, his tip prodding against the fabric covering your sensitive clit. his name falls from your lips once again, like a softly uttered prayer as you back arches. he takes the opportunity to undo the clasp of your bra, slipping the item off you before continuing to tease your perked nipples, leaning down to lick and suck at them as his hips grind against yours. you weren’t sure when he took off his pants, but you didn’t quite care, not when his impressive girth covered your core so well. sometimes the tip would dip into your entrance before leaving just as quickly, your toes curling as it stretched you and your panties.

he moans into your neck, grinding against you at just the right pace, his precum smearing all over you already-drenched panties. the feeling of his tip prodding at you clit so continuously makes you come quickly, and much harder than the other night when you touched yourself. you writhe beneath him, shaking and crying out his name as your back arches from the bed.

“hm, you’re so much prettier like this, angel, succumbing and throwing away any desire of virtue,” he mutters against your jaw, having sucked dark marks onto the skin right below it, his deep melodic voice.

angel. the way he calls you that makes you shiver. how could he do that? call you an angel while plucking out the feathers of the wings you’d once had?

when he enters you, it’s slow and deliberate, leaning down to whisper into your ear as he presses your hands into the white mattress—”heaven itself could not make you feel like this.”

“i’ve never… you know…” you had admitted shyly once you came down from the first orgasm he coaxed out of you.

he only chuckled, caressing your cheek. “i know. virgins always smell the sweetest.”

you pleaded for him to be gentle, and how could he say no when you were begging so prettily? now his length is barely halfway inside you and you’re already shaking, drenched and deprived pussy squeezing him tightly as he swallows down your broken moans, holding back him own. you feel abnormally good to him, unable to remember the last time he fucked such a perfect pussy.

as he reaches previously untouched parts of you, his tip brushes against a spongey little area that has you clenching, your breath hitching followed by a gasped moan as you come again. stars flood your vision, feeling like your body was on fire as your hands tightened under his. his tongue licks up every one of your sounds, smothering you as he pulled back a bit to press against the spot some more.

your moans soon turn into soft whines, twitching from overstimulation before he fially continues to enter you. it’s a tight fit, but he bottoms out eventually.

“fuck- you take me so well, you’re so perfect.” he groans, looking down at where he can see his tip bulging through your stomach.

you never imagined just how full you would feel, the stretch burning yet somehow still pleasurable as you squirm beneath him. he doesn’t wait, retracting and fucking into you slowly, letting you feel every curve and vein of his perfect cock.

he loses track, but he thinks he’s made you finish 4 times already. he’s not surprised, virginity leaves most people sensitive, and the fact he’s been teasing you in and out of your dreams for months likely didn’t help. san revels in it though, basks in the sounds you try to hold back so desperately. he isn’t lying when he says you’re pretty, hypnotised by your face contorted in pleasure and your body, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. they somehow still have an innocent glint in them, even as he manoeuvres you into different positions before finally easing you into your back once more.

you arousal is smeared all over yourself and him and the bedsheets. clear and sticky, glistening in the candlelight. at some point he slipped out of you to lean down and have a taste, groaning as you mewed above him. when his teeth grazed your abuser clit, you finish once again and a moment later he’s back inside you.

eventually, his hips stutter and a newfound pace takes over. “shit, angel, i’m gonna fill you up so good. would you like that?”

you can only nod frantically, brain turned to mush, jaw dropped to let out your lazy whimpers. you’ve lost track of everything but him; his touch, his voice, his influence. if you parents walked in or he disappeared, you’d only be able to lay there, completely helpless.

he never really stops, taking his time to worship your tight hole, knowing he’ll only be able to stop when he comes. though, by the looks of it, it’ll be sooner rather than later.

his groans and moans sound blissful in your ears, holding your name between his teeth with a low whimper. he spills his tick warm cum into you, the new sensation making you shake and squirm as you feel your insides being filled. another orgasm washed over you, though a little weaker, drunk on his scent and his saliva and him him him.

he kisses you, bruisingly, slipping out of yoh and letting you feel his seed seep out of your hole and run down your thighs, pussy coated in milky white. he slumps against you, detaching his lips from yours to gaze down at your barely open eyes.

it’s tiring, you can’t deny that, but it just feels so good. all your disgusting, fucked up thoughts were because of him. and now your most intimate parts will always be tainted by his hands. he calls you ‘good girl,’ yet you know you’ll never be good again.

choi san: voice like silk, touch like satin, incubus, demon. you’d think demons kill people, but your purity was his only homicide. he murdered your virginity. murderer.

but you do wish for him to kiss you again.

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet @atzhouse

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

fic taglist. @ta3baee @juyofans @sourkimchi @desirehorizon @revepixy @yungilia @cntlyv @mcendpoet @kimseungminsprincess @cookiechristie @bluesunpurplestar1117 @vnessalau @k1ttym0nkey @kyeomooniee @aarzoo-2 @pinkgirly-18-blog @yourfatherlucifer @puddingjongho @futuresoffantasies @reallywingedland @spenceatiny18 @im-def-not-ok @hwapou @a1sh1teruu @lover-ofallthingspretty @arabelleum @hoshiseon @guggu6gvai @seongsbf @honggatito @deltamoon666 @yunhoszn @1-800-fuccthisshit

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #atzhouse #ateez #ateez x reader #choi san smut #san x reader #san reactions #san imagines #san smut #san fluff #san angst #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez smut

2K notes · View notes

s3thwrit3sstuff · 1 year ago

Text

❝ just wanna be one of your toys, tonight❞

creepypasta x incubus!reader | drabble, how you meet, general dating headcanons | graphic descriptions of violence, descriptions of nsfw/smut | not proofread

warnings: yandere tendencies, unhealthy relationship habits but it's okay because everyone in this fic is unhinged, cannibalism with a sexual context, piquerism/knife kink, tentacles, teratophilia, pheromones used by r!, canon violence, LJ's section alludes to r! mutilating a p*de,Slenderman controls r!s food intake (?), guys this is kind of messed up pls

Eyeless Jack | Jeff The Killer | Laughing Jack | Slenderman | Toby Rogers

req: OMG. creepypasta fics. i love them. can you uhmmm. can you write headcanons for an incubus reader. with like eyeless jack, toby, masky and hoodie? ignore this if you dont do that sorta stuff im just jumping on a request train rn ghnjgjkejnjngf

authors note: unfortunately, I'm not super informed about the Marble Hornet boys so I did not include them ;'3 Also I did want to do the typical sexy incubi reader but then I didn't so enjoy demonic, somewhat feral, reader and his equally as fucked up lovers

Eyeless Jack —

There was silence when you first laid your eyes on him. As you're both demons who preyed on humans, it was akin to throwing two hungry wolves into a fighting ring.

Your prey, emphasis on yours, had been yours for damn near a week. You've been sneaking into their dreams, draining them of slivers of their essence by bringing them to climax in their wildest dreams. They would grin brightly the first few times but as the week progressed, they began realizing how exhausted they felt and those sexy wet dreams suddenly felt more morbid than exciting.

So your lips curl as you hunch over their head and bare your mouth full of fangs. Your hiss sounds like nails on a chalkboard and your jaw unhinging more than humanely possible as your forked tongue drips with viscous liquid. Jack steps back, his scalpel glinting in the moonlight as he returns the hiss with a gravelly snarl.

Oh, people think of "Sex on Legs" of a man when they imagine an incubus. That's the aim of your pheromones and magic after all. Everyone's ideal of a masculine body is what you morph into. Muscular, fat, hairy, clean-shaven, short or tall; whatever their genitals desire is what you distort their brain into seeing.

Your true form was a whole other story. You were a demon. It didn't matter if you were once human or if you were born in Hell itself. You were different now.

"They are mine," Your lips twitch and curl with every syllable. Fingers digging deeper into the skull of your prey. You don't know this demon's name and you're unsure of how strong he truly is but you dig your heels into the ground.

Jack pauses. His growling ceases as he loosens and tightens his grip on his scalpel.

He's had his run-ins with others "like" him. Eldritch beings, proxies of eldritch beings, and such others. However, incubi was new for him. He half-expected a stout creature with leathery wings and horns like those illustrations in the yellow pages of demonology books.

"...What do you need from them?" He wants to bargain. He doesn't have to but he does anyway. Partly from curiosity and partly from his own hunger...for you.

He wonders what you taste like. Jack wouldn't admit it then but he licked his needle-sharp fangs at the thought of your flesh in his mouth and your blood flowing down his throat like the most decadent wine.

"Soul," you answer as a sickening crunch resounds through the room just as your index finger burrows deeper, "Their brain, need".

"Good, I don't need that." Jack points the sharp end of his scalpel to his stomach. "Here, everything I need is here," he then aims his weapon at you with a loose grip; "Share, yes?"

Your lips hide your fangs and you tilt your head, swaying your head as you try to weigh the options. Other demons could be rather tricky. Sharing wasn't in most of their vocabulary. However, this one was...different.

"Share, yes".

That is how the two of you met. His masked visage and the tar-like substance that escapes from his humanoid eye sockets intrigue you. You had watched him cut open your prey with medical precision so he could carefully remove the organ he craved.

"Name is...?" Jack's pointed ears twitch from beneath his hoodie. He turns his head towards yours and if he were human he might have flinched from the way your nose brushes the bump of his mask. But he isn't, so he doesn't.

"Jack. My name is Jack," he brings one leathery hand to rest upon your cheek. It stains your skin and Jack's thumb rests precariously close to your lower lash line. The silence is a prompt for you to continue and you whisper your name, chewing on your lower lip after which makes Jack scoff in mild amusement.

Your relationship initially begins due to Jack's desire. He craves you in such a visceral way he doesn't know what to do with it anymore. It pains him that he doesn't sleep because he is certain that the number of times he's unravelled at the thought of you should already beckon you into his brain. But Jack isn't a human.

He's a demon. So, he decides to use victims to lure you. He wasn't sure how to go on about it at first but after tilting his head down at the moaning woman writhing in her bed, whispering your name, he takes her to his home.

When you visit your prey's dreams it's plagued with images of the eyeless demon and once you manifest into thin air he wastes no time pinning you to the wall with his inhuman strength.

"Jack!" you snarl in alarm and he releases you, smiling. His blue mask was placed elsewhere, instead, he hid his eyes behind tattered bandages. His teeth were so sharp you felt yourself tense.

You become something akin to a pet. Jack learns how to keep you captive in his home, locked behind bars and ancient runes written in blood. Despite the lack of freedom, you couldn't say he doesn't spoil you.

He brings you his victims. Dazed from whatever supernatural effect he has and sore from his impromptu surgery. They always scramble in alarm, panicked and disorientated before they spot you.

Then, Jack relishes in your vicious lunges. Watches from the outside as you crush their skulls open to fill your stomach.

When he eventually makes you trust him enough (Stockholm Syndrome is one beautiful side effect) he brings you to hunts with him. You're the shadow that hangs upside down from the ceiling when his victims wake up and shake, paralyzed as Jack digs through their layers of skin, muscles and fat. Your grin is hauntingly ethereal and inhuman as you lean down to kiss their trembling lips.

Jack wonders if you smell his desire. You do. But it's normal. Your pheromones were meant to attract sexual partners after all but your gaze does linger on Jack the more the scent of charred earth burns whenever you're pressed to his back.

"Teasing me?" He would mutter. Silence would be his reply and all he'd feel is your supple skin brushing on his ashen grey skin, nosing insistently to his neck. "I know you can talk (Y/N)" his needle and thread continue threading through the patchwork of skin.

"Why won't you touch me?" that makes him freeze. Jack had thought about it. Every time he saw you kiss your victims, or rip them to shreds. You were fire dancing in the wind and Jack can't justify his need to own you but he doesn't care.

"Because if I touch you, I won't be able to stop"

"Who said I'd want you to stop?"

Jack tugs on the blood-soaked thread. It glints in the harsh lighting of his desk lamp, briefly looking like a sliver of light.

"I'll sink my teeth into you, tear you apart and consume you".

His head turns as you grab his chin. His bandages tugged away and you chuckled as you saw the ugly gored-out holes. He hasn't told you the whole story but you know what scars he did have were all human-made.

"You can take my flesh if you want, Jack".

The thread snaps.

Jack belatedly realises that since you were not human either, your resistance to pain was just as crazy as your regenerative abilities. He takes you in a way that feels genuinely primal. Two animals going at it, blood smeared along the floors and walls while claws and fangs puncture into flesh.

You two give sex a whole new meaning. Jack finishes inside of you as he laps up at the gash on your neck, groaning as his dexterous tongues (yes, tongues) feel your pulsing veins dancing on them. You encourage his ferocity with saccharine sweet calls of his name.

Sometimes, as silly as it sounds, you make him feel human again. He swears the shrivelled thing in his dusty ribcage beats thunderously whenever you dig your fingers into the back of his thighs.

You were a never-ending feast. A banquet he will never tire from. The cell he kept you in wasn't in use anymore but he swears if you ever even think of going away from his side he would keep you in there until the sun exploded.

There'll eventually be a balance in your relationship. Once you gain his trust, you might as well carve out his insides to nestle between his blackened bones and allow his tar-like blood to keep you warm. He'll do whatever it takes to ensure no one, human or non-human, will keep you apart.

He thinks it is absolutely healthy if you return the sentiment.

Jack doesn't stray from you. He is devoted. The type of person to ensure you're always full, from his essence or from others, he will provide whatever you need.

Close-promixity. He doesn't have to be touching you, just wants you near.

Will bite you. Hard. Not in a cute nibbling way. Legitimately bites you to sustain himself and thinks it's romantic that you're inside of him.

He is more human than you at times. He enjoys human comforts. The internet, a bed, a shower. He doesn't need it, you're both demons after all. But they're a luxury that he treasures.

If "others" wander into your territory, Jack's growls turn spine-chilling. A chittering, gravelly, snarl that heightens in volume as he curls his lips. He'll unmask, scalpel forgotten as veins bulge into the back of his hands and his footsteps suddenly get heavier. The one time someone had stumbled on you while you were feeding, you swore you saw wisps of black smoke smoulder from Jack's skin and the faint sound of fire crackling.

Miiight be the most protective one of the bunch.

You having sex with your prey does not bother Jack. Your sex with him is much more solidifying, oath-binding and skin-scarring. Besides, he knows you need actual souls to be sustained.

Jack's not sure how long he will be "alive" but if he's dying you're coming with him, (Y/N). He would burn the world down for you but death won't keep you apart.

Jeffery Woods, Jeff the Killer —

"What. The. Fuck?" Jeff's damaged facial muscles could barely twitch or tug on his cheeks due to his insane self-mutilation, however, he manages to furrow his brows hard enough that he feels his cheekbones spasm as they attempt to frown.

The married couple he had been stalking laid dead on their mahogany bed and there was some sort of freak over them.

Your eyes were almost as wide as his as you slip three of your fingers into your bloody mouth, sucking them clean with an obscene sigh of satisfaction.

"Too...late," Jeff's "nose" burns as he surges forward. His boots track mud and water across the bedroom and your grin is maniacal as he unsheathes his hunting knife from his hip.

"You fucking bitch!"

Truth be told, you spotted Jeff during one of your nightly visits to the husband's dreams. His white outfit contrasts so sharply in the dark it almost seems haughty. A little "look at me"-sy if you could put it into words.

Jeff brandishes his hunting knife and you twist out of the way to instead latch onto the ceiling. His bloodshot eyes earn a pleasant shiver that spreads warmth to the thing between your crotch.

He was goddamn grotesque. Skin leathery, eyes so painfully dry and irritated it rimmed red and that cut-up smile? His yellow teeth and red gums are splashes of colour since they're no longer hidden by his cheeks. His jet-black hair whips furiously against his face as one hand reaches up to grab your ankle.

Your yell is more of a screech and Jeff wrestles you on the body of the wife. Her bones and nipple piercings dig into your back as Jeff digs his knife into your shoulder.

"They were fucking mine! You goddamn cunt! Stupid little bitch!" he's more robust than a regular human. Then again, a regular human would've died from his "cosmetic" surgeries a while ago.

You can still his heartbeat in his chest though. Slow but there.

He pulls the knife out and you exclaim once he stabs you once again. The toothy edge of the blade was meant to inflict pain every time he pulled out and Jeff's cheeks lifted into a gleeful expression as he watched you writhe in pain.

But then.

"Mom?" Jeff locks up. You turn your head to the shadow under the door but Jeff puts the knife to your eye and your snarling lowers into a hissing.

Jeff does not hurt kids. The way he stares down at you with stormy grey blues shows that though he has no idea how to slaughter you he will try to if you even think of laying a hand on her. Much to his relief, you close your eyes and go lax.

You don't hurt kids either.

"Momma?" The doorknob shakes and Jeff knows the kid probably smells iron but the two of you are as rigid as the corpses on the bed.

"Did you need something, Kavi?" The voice that comes out your lips isn't yours, it's the father's and Jeff only loosens his grip from surprise. Kavi's feet shuffle nervously and whatever stuffy she's holding squeaks lightly in pressure. "I heard noises...screaming" She hears the smile in your voice as you tell her to go back to bed.

"But-"

"Go to sleep, Kavi" This time it's a command and Kavi's shadow straightens up before her footsteps fade away.

Jeff's breathing had slowed throughout the interaction. He's good at being quiet when he needs to be. Not so flashy when the situation calls for it. A soft spot for children. How noble.

He presses on your chest with the heel of his palm but then gets up and sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair. You turn onto your stomach, pushing the husband onto the floor as you watch Jeff glare at you with contempt as he paces.

"I've been watching them", Your eye roll makes him grunt. "I know, I saw. But, he's mine" He huffs at the sight of the twitching body on the floor. "Could've left me the wife, asshole" Jeff follows the trail of blood down your chest and stomach before ripping his eyes away as you pluck her eyes out to pop into your mouth.

Jeff swears he's never been harder.

"I was hungry".

Your grin like the cat that got the cream when Jeff rushes towards you and grabs the column of your neck to push you down.

For a guy who hasn't gotten laid, ever, he sure knew what to do. You helped, obviously. When Jeff's fingers tremble and hover you would goad him to do better, huff that you're getting bored and he needs to fuck your hole/s with more passion. That'd get that freak going.

He sure was in love with his knives too. Obsessed with the way you shiver and shudder every time the blade cuts into your skin or when he digs the tip of it in and you arch into the edge.

Jeff thinks his first time suits him. His life is fucked up in all sorts of ways so of course, his first time was with a demon. He remembers you bouncing on his lap, eyes glowing as you squeeze his dick and moan his name before he saw white.

When he wakes up, he shoots up straight and throws the rag away from his face. The bodies are stiff now and Kavi's older sister is pulling into the driveway. He wears his clothes and isn't quiet about it as he hears Kavi crying about nightmares while she rushes out.

Jeff's DNA being all-over the crime scene is something he does not give a shit about. What are the police going to do? Arrest a dead man? Hah! They'd need to catch him first and he's been dodging them since he was 13 years old and he's 24 now. They're shit at their job.

That one night spirals into Jeff fucking into his fists for a week straight. Unable to properly think without your whispers breezing past his ears in the wind. He's already insane but you've turned the broken notch higher.

Thankfully for him, you're just as hopeless. He isn't quite sure how long you've been stalking him but when he finally senses eyes on him he's excited because he knows it's you.

Your relationship is physical at first. Love isn't quite in either of your vocabulary but this relationship turns something close to it. He whispers your name in the wind and then he feels your weight on his back as your arms materialize from thin air and squeeze him.

"What do you need, executioner?" Jeff snorts at the title, shrugging you away as he unbuckles his belt and pushes the hanging body as he passes it. Jeff sits on the desk and pats his thighs.

"The fuck kind of name is that?" You cage him between your arms and lean in to lick the scratches near his eye.

"You don't like it?"

"I ain't no one's fucking executioner"

You roll your eyes and he clicks his tongue at it. "The fuck's that for?" You're still not sure what the fuck Jeff is, for all intents and purposes he's just something in limbo. Dead but not quite. Alive but not quite. But his ego is still that of a man and you're in your own purgatory as you decide if you enjoy it or not.

When Jeff realises he does care for you, it's a strange time for him. He won't ask if you've eaten or if you're hurt because suddenly he knows just from a glance. It's frightening to him. He doesn't call for you for a long time and he grits his teeth as you don't come for him either.

Stuck in-between again. He's relieved but he's angry. He's furious but sad. Are you alright? Do you hate him? Do you not care for him? How dare you!? But, also, great! He doesn't have time to be anything more! But how dare you? Do you not realise how much he cares about you!?

When Jeff finds out it's because some idiots in a cult managed to trap you?

He feels numb as he prepares to absolutely destroy them. With a one-track mind, he kicks open the doors of their stupid, dilapidated doors and lays waste on whoever isn't you. He burns their church down. His senses only rush back towards him when he has you in his arms.

That night, he's tender and sweet. It disturbs you a bit but you preen under his hands as he watches you heal your wounds in your own demonic ways.

"You came for me"

"...I'm your executioner, aren't I?"

Don't expect labels from Jeff but he does expect commitment to an extent. He won't be angry if you fuck around but he will fuck you harder if you mention that flesh bag being good.

He's bad at talking but once you manage to pry his mouth open he can be insightful about certain things. He's an observant man just so fucking egotistical.

You are his and he's yours but don't mention it too many times, he can get spooked. Did you expect stability from Jeff? Good, because you aren't getting it.

He wants you to participate in his kills. It's a great bonding activity! He is glad he has you as his buddy/lover. At least one person in this hell-forsaken world cares for him.

This does mean he can get a bit clingy at times, maybe even bordering on obsessed, but he doesn't give a shit. Even if you are a demon from hell, Jeff will find a way to find you.

Carved his name into you. No questions about it.

It will take years before he even says anything close to an "I love you" but he says in his own ways. He's tightlipped about you when his enemies catch up to him and if he feels that you're even a bit threatened he will fight tooth and nail until you're safe.

Jeff knows he's the last person that deserves a wish to be granted but he squeezes you tighter in his arms when he thinks of growing older. He's scared of dying, always has been, but the thought of leaving you alone/being without you? It terrifies him.

When his hair starts getting more salt and peppery he gets quite grumpy every time you mention it. He does soften when he notices you "ageing" as well - he knows you aren't and it's just your shapeshifting but he swears he'll do anything to stay by your side for as long as he can.

Laughing Jack —

Oh, he was familiar with your kind. Laughing Jack mainly targets families but he's been terrorizing the world since the 1800's, he knows the vices of men. He shoos them away (which is a nice way of saying he disembowels them if they get territorial over their prey).

What he didn't expect was to see you panting raggedly with your chin dripping with blood and pieces of what once was a man under your claws.

Laughing Jack's eyes shoot towards the child he had been "befriending". He knew he was suffering and Laughing Jack truly did not care — he wanted to have fun mutilating the entirety of his family and was only here because he wanted to visit his "friend".

The hair on the back of your neck pricks and your jaw unhinges as your eyes land on the lanky being.

You know of him too. This entity that was once brought to earth to help a lonely child turned into a demonic entity that relished in the pain of humans.

You're also aware he has an affinity to target children to bring back to his circus of horrors under the guise of "saving them" and even though you're a creature of hell, you stand in front of the cowering boy with your teeth on display.

"This is new", Laughing Jack giggles out. His claws curled in front of his mouth as he stalked forward. Oh, he knows why little Carl wanted to run away from home. His mother did a shit job at protecting him from his drunk stepfather and Jack was going to do just that.

He was going to let Carl run away. Never said Carl would be alive when he did. But Carl never asked.

"Usually you whores are busy with the adults, not the kids". The very implications of what he said have you snapping your teeth. He raises his hands in faux surrender with a mocking grin.

"Gone soft? Who were you here for?"

Your lips twitch and Jack pauses just as he's about to step out of the shadows. Carl's weeping and sniffling echoed in the room. Jack's plastered smile turns sour as seconds tick by.

You know better than to anger him. So you will yourself to speak: "His mother". Jack bounces back like nothing had happened and gleefully strides over into the light.

"J-Jack? Jack!" "Carl!" Your hand shoots out to grab at the boy but he rushes into Jack's claws and sobs freely into his chest as Jack shushes and cradles him. Jack gingerly plucks the stretched-out shirt back over Carl's shoulder and rubs his back.

"Then you can go!" Jack cheers as he cradles Carl. "Go, go! Go and get that bitch of a woman!" You march up to him and grow taller tower over him. Jack's neck cranes to meet your eyes and he swears his neck creaks. He's never had to look up at anyone before.

"The boy isn't yours!" Jack's claws envelope Carl's head as the boy covers his ears. "Protective? Your kind usually has a one-track mind, never known demons to have sympathy", Jack's eyes squish into crescent moons.

"Have you gone soft, demon?"

Carl isn't sure what happens next. He just knows that when he wakes up the next day, he isn't scared and his mom isn't there. Instead, there's you. He isn't scared of you, he trusts you and he knows that you're his older brother.

He goes to school with you by his side and when he comes back, you've made food for him. Carl doesn't know where all the money comes from or why there are foggy memories of horror when he stares into space but your voice always snaps him back to reality.

Carl doesn't know where you go off to at night but he knows he isn't scared because Laughing Jack always pops up in the house.

Carl doesn't know how lucky he is, not really, but as he grows old he does feel gratitude. He doesn't know nor care why you're not his brother on papers or that his mom isn't in the picture. He knows he loves you though.

And he likes Laughing Jack too. Even if he's scary sometimes.

"Honey! You're home!" You glare at Jack as you step into the kitchen, wiping blood from your chin as you shed your jacket and your human skin. Jack looks comically out of place. He waits for you to shed before he gathers you in his arms.

This arrangement was odd. Out of place. But you learned not to hate it. Maybe Laughing Jack was right, maybe you were getting soft but you were glad that Carl was safe. Even if you had to pretend to be his older brother and then deal with Laughing Jack at night.

He sways with you in the kitchen, humming an old tune and you groan as your shape settles. He grins as he runs his claws down your back then holds you firmly.

Jack wasn't interested in sex and you were okay with that. He just wants to hold you like this, an affection growing within him as he inhales your scent.

"Carl's at a sleepover, must be having fun", Jack twirls you and you allow it with a ghost of a smile. "If he was at my circus, the streamers would be intestines and the snacks! Oh, the snacks, (Y/N) Darling!" Your lips cover his and his brow raises as he returns the kiss.

"Carl's fine with regular streamers, Jack. He's human, let him remain as one", Jack's smile almost seems sincere as he looks up at you. "Speaking of humans, (Y/N) Dearest", Jack thwacks a roll of newspaper on your chest.

"Humans are getting scared of you, rabid incubus, and Carl's mysterious older brother isn't holding up! You need to scram", You sigh deeply as you pull away. Jack chases to cling to your back.

"He'll miss his friends"

"I'll bring them to my circus! He'll always see them whenever he wants!"

"You're not saying no", Jack purrs and cackles after you close your eyes and nod. He didn't really need permission but you appreciate him asking either way. Besides, he had a point! Carl could play with them whenever he wishes to so he won't be too sad.

Your relationship with Laughing Jack might be the most curious one out of everyone else. Carl made you more human than you'd like to admit and you made Laughing Jack more colourful (on the inside) than he'd ever tell.

He doesn't love Carl. Cares for, sure. He doesn't love you. But he wants your affections, that much he knows.

He brings you gifts, some of your real food, toys and all sorts. Even some for Carl because he knows you like it when he does it. Jack becomes a sort of family guardian. Anyone who tries to harm Carl doesn't just have you to worry about, Laughing Jack's looming over your shoulder too.

You share kisses, hugs and hand holdings if he's being annoying about it but both of you know Laughing Jack prefers not to go below the belt. He prefers that you seek physical pleasure elsewhere. He claps with glee every time you toss him the body, turning the corpse into a new throne or cake or whatever he wishes.

When Carl grows old and moves out, he knows that the porch light will always be on for him. He knows his "older brother" isn't human but he doesn't care. He also knows Laughing Jack isn't just his imagination but he doesn't care. Carl knows you're family and that's all that matters.

You tend to the house at times but after Carl moves out, Jack all but whisks you away into his circus. The spirits of dead children crowd around you, sharing an affection towards you due to Laughing Jack's own emotions. You tolerate them enough but spend most of your time with your Jack.

Laughing Jack doesn't know if he'd die for you, he doesn't even know if he's able to die really, but he would slaughter millions if it meant that you'd be content.

"Do you love me, (Y/N) Darling?" Laughing Jack tickles your side, giggling as you swat his hands away. You turn to face him and he relaxes in your hold, minutely but you still feel the way his muscles unbind.

"Do you love me, Jack Dearest?" His eyes soften and you swear you see the way baby blue bleeds into the monotone grey.

"I do, I love you more than I'd like to admit".

Slenderman —

Your head tilted at the shape in the trees. The person beneath you twitched and rattled out a groan as they clung to the little bits of life they still had. A quick snatch and grab of more of their brains puts an end to it rather quickly.

Swivelling your head you gaze at the drawings on their walls. Among the illustrations of the forest views that they drew and the maps, you note the odd scribbles.

This prey had odd dreams at times. Some nights, you find yourself fighting against a force just to invade their thoughts but you think of it as nothing but their own will. Some humans had quite a resistance to your kind.

You squint at the marker drawings, getting up from the bed to walk closer. Plucking the note that peeked from under the map only to gasp as the map fell onto your feet. It revealed more deranged scribblings and your stomach twisted into knots as you realised what entity your prey had been hunted by.

Your breath shudders and you take a step back only to stiffen as a cold wind whispers up your spine.

"Forgive me!" You kneel, bowing your head as you stare at the wooden floors in fear. This being - it was the very thing that crawled out of Hell. It was older than most if not everything that roamed this earth and you had taken its prey.

The crackling of trees makes tears brim your eyes. It sounds thunderous and it only grows louder. You force your eyes shut as the branches drag along the glass windows and you plead under your breath as you feel Him getting closer and closer.

When he speaks, your brain feels as though it's being pulled apart. Was this punishment from your past victims? You're struggling to understand what he says but his voice soothes into something tangible.

"Wha...What?" You lift your head and turn to face the empty, open, window.

"Come".

Slenderman was intimidating even for an incubus like yourself. As he towers over you, you feel your prey climb up out of your throat. But then, then, his spindly fingers stroke the side of your face.

"Please me, incubus", his tendrils sway in the wind and they lower and slither through the dead leaves to curl around your ankles and thighs.

His "suit" pulses and throbs, particularly between his legs and you see the slit glistening with wetness, white cockheads poking out.

Oh.

Well. Who were you to say no?

Slenderman doesn't speak in a language familiar to humans, it brings some semblance of comfort to you; his words and expressions are more archaic but it's undoubtedly the language of hellish creatures like yourselves.

His cocks are just as inhuman and long as everything else about him and those tendrils that sprout from his back? Oh, they make the best restraints. The barely there scales on them shudder every time he's close to an orgasm and since they're so close to you, the rattling of it makes you whimper in pleasure.

Slenderman allows you to go but he keeps his eyes on you.

The way you kill and tear into humans, the pleasure you take in it - you're nothing but an incubus but Slenderman wants you.

And like his other "toys" he is merciless in making you just his.

You're not allowed to hunt anyone other than the ones he tells you to. Not allowed to even think of craving anyone. You're his incubus and his alone.

Who are you to say no?

It wasn't all that bad. Sometimes, he would push the limits of your hunger if he wanted to "test" the prey but you were obedient to his whims.

Sometimes, he'd crawl into your mind to truly see if you were all his and though painful and vomit-inducing the rewards after were enough to make it worth it.

After all, compared to the rest of his toys, you were the most pampered.

"Master", a purring noise is all around you but with your sight taken from you (a feat that only a few beings could do). The only thing you can do to locate Slenderman is through touch. But the thing is, he's touching you every-fucking-where.

You were suspended in the air, legs spread with tendrils and arms bound to your back as your cloudy eyes stared aimlessly at the night sky.

"Patience, incubus"

Love is hard to pinpoint in this relationship. It's more of an endearment. His feelings for you were the same feeling as someone would feel towards a dog. If you disobeyed and bit him, he'd put you down no question - that much you knew.

He doesn't mind when you kill other incubus or succubi though. Not that he seeks them with the same intent he had with you, he is a bit addicted to you, he seeks them with the intent to make you jealous.

He knows you had feelings for him. Depends on him. His word was law.

He likes seeing his dog get jealous. He doesn't assist in your fights with the other demon, you have to be the strongest to be his and so he merely watches and rewards you once you win.

The one time you lost though? Oh, he was so disappointed, (Y/N). The incubus stood over you, clutching the stump of an arm as he hisses at you. You know he is about to rip your throat and you kick your legs as he kneels over you.

He grabs your chin and forces your head to be tilted up, exposing your neck. You were going to die, you were going to die!

"You're pathetic, pet", the incubus over you chokes, blood spurting out from the hole in his chest before he all but crumbles into dust. One of your eyes is swollen shut, bruised and bleeding all over and Slenderman cradles you in his arms as he helps you stand.

"I'm sorry, Master" Your tears are wiped away. His tendrils lift you into the air and close to his chest as you weep.

"You'd be dead without me, pet. Completely useless".

Toby Erin Rogers —

"...Get out of the fucking way" Toby had the coldest eyes you've ever seen. He had been tasked to kill the man whose skull was being split open by your hands.

He must think Toby was here to save him because he swipes a hand towards him, groaning desperately as his eyes shake. Toby's nose scrunches up in distaste. The man looked like a goddamn pug. His eyes bulged out and gaping his mouth like a dead fish.

"He's my kill". You furrow your brows as you stubbornly dig your thumbs deeper into the crack of his skull.

"Oops".

Toby throws a hatchet and it slices through your shoulder, pinning you to the wall from the strength he used. You claw at the handle, kicking your feet to try and push yourself from the wall but Toby simply ignores you to slash the man's throat with with his other hatchet.

"You asshole! He's mine!" Your thrashing makes him grunt as he slams his hand on your other shoulder. He grabs the hilt of his weapon and squints his eyes at you.

"S-Shut the fuck up, cunt. You can still eat the bitch, shithead", Toby isn't nice about tugging his weapon out. His brows furrowed at the sight of your torn flesh.

Toby has seen it all. After meeting a monochrome clown and a burned woman with a mask hunting for a guy named Jeff, among other creatures, Toby is unphased at the sight of a demon.

This means the already cold, unfeeling, man was not at all impressed. His eyes wander to your chest and your legs but scoffs as he cleans the edge of his hatchet on his sleeves.

"You asshole!" Toby waves his hand nonchalantly as he retreats. His plan is foiled as you latch onto his back, teeth sinking through his clothes and into the protective pads. Reaching back, his gloved hands grasp onto you to throw you across the room. The desk lamp shatters onto the floor as you lay out on the surface.

Toby rolls both his shoulders, sniffing in annoyance as he picks at the deep marks on the plastic of his protective wear. "Shit, your teeth suh-suh-sunk...through" his eyes glower as you peel yourself from the office table.

"Now, you're just ask, asking for it".

After that rough night, you stayed away from ever-crossing paths with Slenderman and his stupid proxies. Even with your supernatural regenerative healing, he slashed so deep at one point you're certain he had his hatchets go through you.

Your body ached for days. Not in a sexy way.

Toby, however, found it hard to get you out of his head. He knows an incubus' pheromones linger when they experience intense emotions and subsequently, so do its effects. But after 2 months of aching for you, he has had enough.

He takes a while to track you down. He's only human at the end of the day but when he finds your prey he reenacts the first time you met.

"You," venom was dripping from your words as you hissed at him but Toby simply raised from the armchair in the corner. The office of the poor psychotherapist you hunted reminded him of his childhood so he gladly focuses on your figure to focus.

He pays close attention to the way you get into the defensive, climbing the desk to put distance as you show him your fangs.

"I've got a pro, proposition for you" Toby walks towards the closet and to your surprise, your prey is tied up like a goddamn turkey. He falls flat on his face, breaking his nose, and squirms as muffled pleas come from him.

"You don't have to waste days making your prey succumb to you. I'll wrap them up...luh-like a fuuucking present and...you can munch on 'em"

"...In exchange?" You can't tell if he's smiling. But you hear it in his voice as he says:

"Fuck me".

For Toby, you provide relief and comfort. The beginning of the relationship was tough waters to navigate through, mainly for you. Despite providing you with food when he craves some physical intimacy, Toby is one scary motherfucker to be bare of clothes with.

It's a feat considering who was the demon in the relationship here.

Toby keeps his mouthguard on. For a whole 2 years, he never once took it off. By the time he does though? His eyes are closed and he's muttering for something to leave him alone. His anxiety crept up on him as he stared at the popcorn ceiling of the motel he had chosen for that night.

"Toby" his hand trembles and not because you're deep inside of him. His scarred chest falls and raises in rapid motions and you're aware that he needs to breathe. So, despite his heart-clenching whimpers you tear his hands away from his face to pull his mouthguard off.

"No!" Toby tries to cover the scar on his cheek. You shush him and pull out, carefully arranging your limbs so he can wrap his arms around you.

That night ended sourly. He shoves you away and dresses in a rush.

When he reaches out for you again, you don't pry. You've grown soft for the man but know he isn't exactly the touchy-feely type. Toby wonders if you're thinking of his face as he plows into you and his thoughts are so loud he has the audacity to grow flaccid.

As an incubus? That was a first for you.

"...Ugly mug, huh?" You eye him as you suckle on his cockhead. Now? He was going to talk about that night, now? Okay. Sure.

"No, I like your face" Toby grunts, clearly not believing you. "Just sayin' that 'cuz my dicks in your face". Well, at least he is aware of the timing too.

He exclaims as you push him down on the bed and straddle him.

"I like your stupid face, Toby. I like your stupid fucking voice, your body, your sarcasm and your shitty personality. Is that so hard to believe?"

This relationship turns warmer after this night. He throws extra snacks your way and he appreciates it when you help him with stitching himself up from his "assignments".

When his paranoia and anxiety get the best of him, he finds it...nice...that he doesn't have to ice out his emotions anymore. He feels so human.

Toby is aware you're fully capable of handling your own affairs and so, he doesn't interfere. He's terrified of the Slenderman and even growing slightly curious about you too. It's a tough balance for Toby - it's not like Slenderman cares about work-life-balance.

So, don't expect to spend cosy days spent together somewhere sweet. Your version of date nights will be following him along on his missions or him watching you hunt and then spending hours together in the victim's home.

It brings Toby comfort. You're not human but the way you move through the house with him, it reminds him of simpler times; a past he no longer remembers but knows he cherishes. He thinks about the two of them being a domestic couple a lot.

"Remembering?" Toby says nothing as he kisses the nape of your neck. The two of you had washed up in the shower and the victims were neatly displayed in the living room with symbols all over the room. You two had all night to just...be.

"Never got muh-my memories back then, not...gonna get 'em now" He pulls away to grab the bottle of wine from you. When he settles on the office couch, you drop onto his lap with a plate of sandwiches.

He groans as you teasingly try to feed him but soon relents. He feels a bit ashamed as he struggles to eat "normally" with the open gash on his cheek but as he peeks at your expression he sees nothing but love.

So, Toby squeezes you closer and you say nothing as he allows you to care for him.

626 notes · View notes

ganggangscenarios · 26 days ago

Text

Bound by desire (Part 1/2)

Part 2

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Romance, comedy, dark, angst

Warnings: Dark Magic, mentions of sex

Writer's note: I've been sitting on this one for a while, I hope you enjoy it!

The sharp scent of candle wax lingered in the air as a puff of smoke erupted in your living room, curling like storm clouds in a hurricane. When it finally parted, you were met with the sight of a man—a stunningly handsome man. His hair mirrored the hue of the dissipating smoke, a soft, smoky purple-grey that matched his piercing eyes. Pale skin stood in stark contrast to his obsidian outfit, tailored to perfection, and glittering silver adorned him—a ring for every finger, charms dangling from each ear, catching the faint light.

You did what any rational person would do. You screamed.

“Okay, dramatic.” He raised a dark brow, unimpressed by your outburst.

“Who—what—how did you get here?!” you stammered, pressing yourself against the wall.

“You summoned me.” His voice was smooth, with a touch of exasperation, like this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your heart dropped. “Summoned? I didn’t summon anyone!”

“Oh, you didn’t?” He folded his arms, tilting his head. “Let me guess. You read some ‘random’ words aloud while lighting a black candle?”

“I was practicing Latin!” you protested, voice trembling. “And the candle wasn’t black; it was called Midnight Mist. I bought it on sale!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Midnight Mist, black, same difference. And those weren’t just random words; that was an incantation.”

It clicked, and dread flooded you. “Oh, no. The book.” You gestured wildly toward a worn leather-bound volume sitting innocently on your coffee table. “I got it from this tiny shop. I just wanted to practice my Latin, and the salesperson said this book would be perfect!”

“Well, congratulations,” he said, throwing himself onto your couch as though he owned it. “You managed to summon me. An incubus.”

You blinked. “A what?”

He grinned, sharp and wicked. “An incubus. You know, the demon who, according to lore, shows up to fulfill certain... desires.”

You froze, your brain scrambling to keep up. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. You’re here to—what? No. That can’t be right.”

“Don’t take my word for it.” He kicked his boots up onto your coffee table like he hadn’t a care in the world. “Check the book.”

Fumbling, you flipped through the pages until you found the bookmarked spell. Your eyes skimmed over the description, your voice trailing off as you read aloud: “‘An incubus is a demon in male form who lies upon sleeping women to—’ Oh my God.” You snapped the book shut, glaring at him. “Death by sex?!”

He held up his hands, palms out. “Relax. That’s old-school. We’ve updated the playbook.”

“What does that even mean?!”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Consent. It’s mandatory now. No more lurking in shadows or creeping into bedrooms uninvited. Honestly, most of us found the old ways pretty gross.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re telling me demons have... ethics now?”

“Yeah. HR’s been cracking down. Very progressive workplace these days.” He flashed a smug grin. “But don’t worry. I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to fulfill the terms of your little summoning spell. My job is to... help you, shall we say, get lucky.”

The blood drained from your face. “I don’t need help getting... that! And if I did, I wouldn’t want it from a demon!”

“Well,” he said with a casual shrug, “you should’ve thought about that before you summoned me. I can’t leave until I’ve completed my task.”

“What? No! There’s got to be a way to undo this!” You frantically flipped through the book again, looking for a reversal spell.

“Knock yourself out,” he said, lounging comfortably. “But trust me, the only way I’m going anywhere is if I’ve done my job.”

You glared at him, the panic bubbling in your chest. “This is insane.”

“Welcome to demonology, sweetheart.” He smirked, eyes glinting with amusement. “Lesson one: always read the fine print.”

You were pacing the room, still clutching the cursed book like a lifeline, when the demon—no, the incubus—lounging on your couch cleared his throat. “You know, if you keep storming around like that, you’ll wear a hole in your carpet. Or summon something worse. Your choice.”

You whipped around to glare at him. “Worse than you?”

He grinned, pearly white teeth glinting. “Oh, I don’t know. You might find me pretty hard to top.”

You groaned, your hand flying to your forehead. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Believe it, sweetheart.” He gestured to himself lazily, reclining further into your couch cushions. “And while we’re at it, you can call me Jimin.”

“Jimin?” you repeated skeptically, narrowing your eyes. “That’s your name?”

“Surprised?” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he tilted his head at you. The faintest smirk played on his lips. “What were you expecting? Something dark and scary? Wratharion? Nycthor?” He made exaggerated gestures, wiggling his fingers like a cartoon villain.

You blinked. “Well, yeah. You’re a demon.”

He laughed, the sound soft yet somehow electric, like it hummed against your skin. “Oh, darling, demons don’t all have names like they crawled out of a horror movie. Some of us have a little... flair.”

“Flair?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

He stood then, crossing the room with a feline grace that sent a shiver down your spine. “Of course.” He stopped just close enough to make your breath hitch. “Jimin suits me, don’t you think?” His voice dipped, low and smooth, his smoky eyes locking onto yours.

You swallowed hard, trying not to notice the way his smirk deepened when he saw your reaction. “I think... you’re trying too hard.”

He gasped, clutching his chest dramatically like you’d struck him. “Trying too hard? Me? Darling, I don’t even have to try.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a step back, muttering, “Yeah, sure, whatever, Jimin.”

His grin widened as he followed you, playful but unrelenting. “Oh, come on, admit it. It’s a nice name, isn’t it? Rolls off the tongue.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Jiiimiiin.”

“Stop that!” you snapped, your face burning as you shoved him back, though he barely budged.

Laughing, he straightened up, hands raised in surrender. “Fine, fine. But if you’re going to shout my name later—”

“I am not shouting your name!” you interrupted, voice climbing an octave.

He only winked at you, completely unbothered. “We’ll see.”

You groaned again, louder this time, and stalked back toward the book. “Is there a spell to make demons less insufferable?”

“If there was, I’d still be exactly the same.” His playful tone followed you like a shadow, filling the room with an infuriating warmth.

You glared at him over your shoulder, ignoring the way his smirk made your pulse race. “I think I liked it better when you didn’t have a name.”

“And I think you like me more than you’re willing to admit.”

“Shut up, Jimin.”

“As you wish.” But the sparkle in his eye told you he had no intention of letting you off that easily.

The next morning, you hurried to work, coffee in one hand and your bag slung over your shoulder. The crisp air did little to calm your nerves. The events of the night before replayed in your head on an endless loop, made worse by the constant chatter of the very unwelcome demon striding casually beside you.

“I’m just saying,” Jimin began, gesturing toward a pigeon on the sidewalk, “summoning me might be the most exciting thing you’ve ever done. Admit it.”

“Exciting isn’t the word I’d use,” you muttered, keeping your voice low, though that didn’t stop the passing woman with a small dog from shooting you a strange look.

“Embarrassing, then?” Jimin smirked. “Endearing? Or maybe—”

“A mistake,” you hissed under your breath, quickening your pace.

He laughed, effortlessly keeping up. “A mistake that you haven’t exactly tried to undo yet. Curious, isn’t it?”

“Undoing it is the first thing on my list when I get home tonight,” you snapped. “I can’t exactly work on banishing you while I’m on my way to work, now can I?”

“Sure you can. You’ve got ten fingers, two hands. What’s stopping you from multitasking?”

“Jimin,” you warned, glancing around. A man walking his bike on the other side of the street frowned in your direction, clearly wondering who you were talking to.

Jimin tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. No one can see me unless I want them to.” He leaned closer, his voice taking on a conspiratorial edge. “You’re just the weirdo talking to herself right now.”

“Wonderful,” you muttered, cheeks burning as another passerby gave you a wary glance.

By the time you reached the office, you were on edge. You darted into the break room, trying to collect yourself before your best friend, Maddie, inevitably cornered you. Jimin, however, didn’t seem interested in giving you a moment of peace.

“This is where you work?” he asked, looking around with mild interest. He wrinkled his nose. “Fluorescent lighting? Beige walls? How... uninspired.”

“Not everyone lives in some shadowy demon dimension, okay?” you shot back, grabbing a mug from the cabinet.

“Touché,” he said, leaning casually against the counter.

“Hey!” Maddie’s voice cut through your morning panic. She popped into the break room, her auburn curls bouncing. “Good morning—” She froze mid-step, her eyes locking on Jimin. “Uh. Hi?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Wait... you can see him?” you asked, voice pitching higher than you’d intended.

“Uh, yeah,” Maddie said, blinking at you. “Why wouldn’t I? He’s standing right there.”

Jimin straightened, looking genuinely surprised for the first time since he’d appeared in your life. “Oh,” he murmured, a grin creeping onto his face. “This is interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” Maddie asked, crossing her arms. “And who exactly is this ridiculously attractive man following you around? Don’t tell me you picked him up at that hole-in-the-wall bar you love. You usually have better taste.”

“He’s not—! I didn’t—!” You sputtered, unsure how to explain without sounding insane.

“Relax,” Jimin interrupted smoothly, flashing Maddie a disarming smile. “I’m Jimin. A... friend of hers.”

“A friend,” Maddie repeated, one eyebrow raised. “Right. And why is your ‘friend’ lurking in the break room at 8 a.m.?”

Jimin ignored her question, stepping closer to study her intently. “You’re Wiccan, aren’t you?”

Maddie blinked, startled. “Uh, yeah. How did you—?”

“That explains it.” Jimin turned to you, his grin positively wicked now. “She’s got a little magic of her own. That’s why she can see me.”

You stared at Maddie like she’d just sprouted a second head. “Wait. Hold on. You’re Wiccan?”

Maddie blinked at you, a little taken aback. “Uh... yeah?”

“Since when?!” you demanded, gesturing wildly between her and Jimin.

“Since... forever?” Maddie said, her tone tinged with confusion. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve been hiding it. You’ve seen my herb jars and crystals. And the moon water? You thought I just liked collecting mason jars for fun?”

“I thought you were into cottagecore!” you exclaimed, still reeling.

Maddie let out a loud laugh, throwing her head back. “Oh my God, no! I mean, okay, yes, it is a vibe, but—seriously? You thought I was just aesthetic?”

“Well, yeah!” you said, your voice rising in disbelief. “You bake pies and make those little flower arrangements all the time! I didn’t think they were spells!”

“They’re not all spells,” Maddie said, still grinning. “Some of them are just, you know, pies. But come on, how did you not pick up on this?”

Jimin was watching the exchange with rapt interest, his lips twitching like he was barely holding back a laugh. “You two are adorable,” he interjected, earning glares from both of you.

You ignored him, your focus still locked on Maddie. “So, you’re telling me that all this time, you’ve been practicing actual magic? Like, real magic? And you never thought to mention it?”

“To be fair,” Maddie said, raising a finger, “you never seemed particularly interested in that stuff. Plus, I didn’t want to overwhelm you. You’re... not exactly the most open-minded when it comes to the supernatural.”

“I summoned a demon last night!” you yelled, waving a hand in Jimin’s direction.

“And you’re handling it about as well as I expected,” Maddie shot back, smirking.

Jimin snorted, finally losing the battle against his amusement. “She’s got you there.”

You threw up your hands. “This is unbelievable. My best friend is secretly a witch, and apparently, I’ve been living in some kind of magical sitcom this whole time!”

“It’s not a secret if you’re just oblivious,” Maddie teased, leaning against the counter. “But I’ve got to admit, summoning a demon is a pretty dramatic way to join the club.”

“I didn’t mean to join the club!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is a nightmare.”

“Relax,” Jimin said, stepping closer with an easy smile. “If you think this is shocking, wait until you hear about the vampires.”

You shot him a glare so sharp it could cut steel. “Not. Helping.”

“Just saying,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Welcome to the magical world, sweetheart. It’s gonna be a fun ride.”

Maddie grinned, clearly enjoying your meltdown. “Oh, I am so getting popcorn for this.”

You groaned again, wishing desperately that you could wake up from whatever surreal dream your life had become.

The club was alive with pounding bass, strobing lights, and a crush of bodies moving in time with the music. You barely remembered how Maddie had talked you into coming here—something about celebrating your “first step into the magical world” and needing to loosen up after a “stressful week.” It was all a blur of insistence and teasing until you’d finally caved.

Now, you were several drinks deep, your head swimming with a pleasant buzz, and Maddie was nowhere in sight. Probably on the dance floor with some guy she’d charmed into buying her a drink.

As for you, you were parked at the bar, swaying slightly to the music and trying to ignore the growing number of men approaching you.

“You’re too gorgeous to be sitting alone,” one of them said, leaning against the bar with what you assumed was meant to be a winning smile.

You blinked at him, unimpressed. “I’m not alone,” you said flatly, waving vaguely behind you to where Jimin had been lurking most of the evening.

The man glanced over your shoulder, saw nothing, and frowned. “Uh, there’s no one there.”

“Exactly,” you muttered, turning back to your drink.

After the third or fourth guy tried his luck and failed, Jimin finally slid onto the barstool next to you, his presence as palpable as the beat vibrating through the club.

“You know,” he said, voice low and velvety in your ear, “for someone so good at rejecting men, you’ve got a real talent for attracting them.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to look at him. “And for someone so supposedly powerful, you’ve got a real talent for being annoying.”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, cutting through the chaos around you. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re going to make me think you’re into me.”

You snorted, sipping your drink. “You wish.”

“Oh, I don’t need to wish.”

Before you could retort, he was on his feet, holding out a hand. “Come dance with me.”

You stared at him, half-laughing. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re drunk, and I’m irresistible,” he said with a wicked grin. “Also, it’ll keep the other guys off your back. Consider it a public service.”

You hesitated, your head swimming from the alcohol, the music, and the way his smoky eyes seemed to pull you in. Finally, you let out a sigh and took his hand. “Fine. One dance.”

He led you to the dance floor, weaving effortlessly through the crowd until you were surrounded by swaying bodies and flashing lights. The second the music enveloped you, Jimin closed the space between you.

At first, you kept your distance, maintaining a polite gap as you moved to the rhythm. But Jimin was relentless. His hands hovered at your waist, his body drawing closer with every beat, until the space between you was almost nonexistent.

The air grew thick, the alcohol dulling your inhibitions as you swayed together. His presence was magnetic, impossible to ignore. His breath ghosted against your ear as he leaned in, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re not bad at this,” he teased, his hands brushing your sides ever so lightly.

“Shut up,” you muttered, but your voice lacked the bite you’d intended.

He smirked, his lips dangerously close to yours. “You’re making it awfully hard for me to behave, you know that?”

Your heart raced, your pulse pounding louder than the music. His smoky purple eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you.

“Behaving is optional,” you found yourself saying, your voice barely audible over the music.

His grin widened, his fingers grazing your arm, sending sparks up your skin. “Careful, sweetheart. I might take that as an invitation.”

You didn’t reply, too lost in the way his touch set your senses alight. You didn’t even notice Maddie watching from across the room, a knowing smirk on her face as she sipped her drink.

Days melted into each other like ink bleeding through parchment. Jimin lingered around you like a shadow, ever-present but growing heavier with each passing moment. The easy flirtation that defined his arrival softened, replaced by something quieter, more contemplative.

It wasn’t lost on you, the way his gaze lingered when you laughed or how his voice softened when he said your name. The comfort between you both had grown—sometimes so tangible it felt like you could reach out and hold it. You’d kissed once, on a night when the stars were bold and the air hummed with something neither of you dared name.

But now, there was a distance. A hesitation.

Jimin had pulled away the last time you leaned in, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of something sharper. Guilt.

“What’s wrong?” you had asked, voice low, almost afraid of the answer.

“Nothing,” he’d said, too quickly, stepping back like touching you would burn.

It had been happening more and more. You didn’t miss the way he flinched when you pressed closer or how he deflected with humor when things grew too intimate. It wasn’t rejection—it was something deeper, something that weighed heavy in the air between you.

But what you couldn’t see was the storm raging inside him.

Jimin sat on the edge of your couch one evening, watching you flip through an old book Maddie had lent you. His fingers toyed with the silver rings he wore, a habit he’d developed to keep from reaching for you. He hated himself for it. For the first time in his existence, he despised what he was—despised the aura that made you gravitate toward him, the pull that was more compulsion than choice.

What if it wasn’t real? What if you didn’t actually want him?

He’d lived 400 years as an incubus, relishing in the easy connections his power afforded him, taking pride in how mortals fell to his charms. But now, the thought of you succumbing to that same enchantment made his stomach churn.

He wanted you to want him, Jimin, not the intoxicating lure of what he was.

For the first time, he felt the cruel irony of his existence. The tether to hell, his powers, his allure—it was all shackles. And for the first time, he wished he could strip it all away and just... be mortal.

But that wasn’t possible, and his superiors were growing impatient.

One evening, just as you’d fallen asleep, the flames of hell itself flickered into your living room, and a voice like crackling fire filled his mind.

“Jimin.”

He sighed, shoulders tensing as he rose from the chair. “I’ll be back,” he murmured, though he knew you couldn’t hear him.

The summons yanked him downward, into the burning depths of the underworld. The oppressive heat pressed against him as he knelt before his superiors.

“You’ve been stalling,” a voice hissed, serpentine and sharp. “Weeks have passed, and you have yet to fulfill your duty.”

Jimin didn’t look up. “I’m handling it,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction.

“Handling it?” Another voice joined, this one low and menacing. “Do not think your actions—or inaction—have gone unnoticed. We have seen your hesitation. Your... attachment.”

“It’s not attachment,” Jimin snapped, though even he didn’t believe it. “I’m—”

“You’re jeopardizing centuries of tradition,” the first voice interrupted. “Your kind exists to fulfill a purpose. To falter is to betray what you are.”

Jimin clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening. “What if I don’t want to be what I am?”

Silence followed, thick and suffocating.

“And what do you wish to be instead?” the second voice asked, mocking. “A mortal? Pathetic. Fragile. Bound to the inevitable rot of time?”

Jimin looked up, defiance sparking in his smoky eyes. “At least they feel without compulsion. At least their love is real.”

The words echoed in the cavernous space, and for a moment, the air itself seemed to hold its breath. Then, the voices broke into a cacophony of mocking laughter.

“Love?” the first voice sneered. “You are a demon, Jimin. You do not love. You manipulate. You seduce. That is your nature.”

“Then maybe I don’t want it to be,” Jimin shot back, his voice rising, trembling with something dangerously close to despair.

The laughter stopped abruptly.

“Fulfil your duty, or we will ensure the girl suffers for your failure,” the second voice growled. “You are bound by your contract. Do not forget that.”

Jimin’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

When he returned to your living room, the weight of his choice was crushing. You were still asleep, curled up on the couch, the faint light of the TV casting soft shadows across your face.

He sank into the chair, watching you.

And for the first time in his long, immortal life, Jimin felt utterly powerless.

#bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts angst #jimin x reader #jimin angst

30 notes · View notes

bestiarium · 10 months ago

Text

The Cambiones [Christian demonology; medieval European mythology]:

A very common theme throughout mythology and religion that connects stories about mythical creatures of many, if not all, civilizations: where magical monsters and supernatural beings exist, there are stories about people having sex with them.

In some stories, this union between the natural and the unnatural results in a child. There are many medieval European stories about children with one human parent and one fey parent. These stories might have originated as a way to explain physical abnormalities or rare traits in infants, such as an unusual appetite or deformities. For example, Matthaeus Parisiensis (a 13th century English historian) describes a Welsh boy who supposedly was the offspring of a human parent and an Incuba, which is a supernatural creature. The boy had already grown a full set of teeth by the time he was 6 months old, and became weirdly tall when he was a teenager. Because of this, he was classified as a ‘Gigantulus’. Another story tells of a boy named Tydorel, whose fey parentage caused him to be unable to sleep.

This all brings us to the Cambiones (singular: Cambion): the offspring of a human parent and a demon. These creatures resemble human infants but with a monstrous appearance. In addition, they weigh much more than a regular child. One often-cited story (cited by Morasch, 1725, among others) from Galicia (Spain) tells of a female beggar who struggled to cross a river with her child. A rider on horseback saw her and offered to carry her baby across the water, but the horse collapsed under its weight. She then admitted that the baby was not her child, but a Cambion devil which had promised her that as long as she carried it around, people would not refuse to give her alms and money.

In modern pop culture, Cambiones are usually portrayed as classical devils: human-like creatures with horns, red skin and a tail. They also usually grow up like regular people rather than remaining in the form of an infant, and are often the result of a forbidden love between a mortal and some kind of fiend. But looking at older mentions of this creature, the nature of the Cambion actually differs a lot between stories and authors, and it is not always the child of a human and a demon:

According to the account of William of Auvergne, dating from the 13th century, Cambiones are demonic illusions resembling babies who have been left in a human household to replace a kidnapped human infant. The word comes from ‘cambiti��, meaning ‘[those who] have been exchanged’. They are predominantly male, cry much more than a normal child, and possess a voracious appetite, to the point where 4 maids are unable to produce enough milk to satisfy a single Cambion. They remain with their human family for years before mysteriously disappearing.

Nicolaus van Jauer, in his 1405 Tractatus de Superstitionibus, claims that Cambiones are in fact not magical illusions, but real living demons. In his version as well, these creatures had been left in human households by the devil.

Still later, in the 1486 Malleus Maleficarum, Heinrich Kramer posits that there are three kinds of Cambiones: the first type is the offspring of a human man and a Succubus demon. The second kind is created by the devil from a bit of semen he collected from a sleeping human man. And then the third kind is not actually a child, but rather a mature demon who magically takes the form of a mortal infant. All three types of Cambiones distinguish themselves from normal babies by their enormous appetite, and the fact that they never grow, no matter how old they are.

Finally, I want to mention Collin de Plancy’s Dictionnaire Infernal, which claims that a Cambion is actually the offspring of two demons: a male Incubus and a female Succubus. They retain most of the traits that the other versions had, though: they eat much more than normal infants and are much heavier. De Plancy recites a story about a Cambion which screamed whenever someone touched him, and laughed when something bad happened nearby. In this version, they only live for seven years.

Sources: Green, R. F., 2016, Elf Queens and Holy Friars: Fairy Beliefs and the Medieval Church, University of Pennsylvania Press, 285 pp., P. 112-115. Goodey, C. F. and Stainton, T., 2001, Intellectual disability and the myth of the changeling myth, Journal of the History of Behavioral Sciences, 37(3), p. 223-240. Morasch, J. A., 1725, Praelectiones academiae ex medicina practica de febribus et capitis morbis, habitae in Alma, Catholica Electorali Universitate Ingolstadiana, et Paucis abhinc annis consensus authoritate inclyti collegii medici per Partes Publicis disputationibus subjectae, nunc in unum digestae volumen, Graffiana, 806 pp., P. 497-498. De Plancy, C. and Albin, J. S., 1844, Dictionnaire Infernal, ou Recherches et Anecdotes sur les Démons, Third Edition, Paris, France, 605 pp., P. 111. (image source 1: YaxeMoon on Deviantart) (image source 2: Andrea Guardino on Artstation)

#Christian mythology #demons #monsters #humanoid creatures #mythology #mythical creatures

47 notes · View notes

magebunkshelf · 19 days ago

Note

Hello! Thank you so much for answering my previous asks, I am back again with more character questions that have occurred to me as I've enjoyed your audios!

Mitch = Given it's shown Mitch has somewhat of an eidetic memory, does that mean he absorbs and retains all the recipes he uses at the cafe? Does it make it easier for him to bake and adapt recipes as he's already got the ingredients, quantities and baking times lodged in his brain?

( Honestly, I am here for Mitch getting to grow in confidence as he proves his competence, getting to use his own natural skills to genuinely make life better for himself and others!)

Jackson the Incubus = If he gets a consistent high amount of energy from someone like he did at the party does this affect the size of his wings? I know in some folklore/demonology writings demonic 'attributes' like the wings, tail and horns grow larger the more power they absorb.

I also wanted to ask, when he's in human form can he still feel everything he's hiding? If so, he must have to sleep on his front all the time so his wings don't get in the way!

Last one!

Lochlan = does he need to go back to being in his merform in order to stay physically healthy or is it more of a mental health thing for him?

What's been the things he's loved most about the surface world and are there any things about his original home he really misses?

Thanks again for these fantastic stories, really enjoying getting all caught up! :)

!!! These are amazing questions, thank you!

Given it's shown Mitch has somewhat of an eidetic memory, does that mean he absorbs and retains all the recipes he uses at the cafe? Does it make it easier for him to bake and adapt recipes as he's already got the ingredients, quantities and baking times lodged in his brain?

He does! I hadn't considered him picking up recipes like this but yeah, that makes total sense for him! Mitch definitely knows his way around a kitchen, though he's used to making snacks for himself, the kinds of random things that you would never see a professional making but somehow still works (Red Dwarf fans, you remember Lister's hangover sandwich - things like that!). That said, he's definitely adapted fast to the cafe owner's recipes, and I'd see him experimenting at home to come up with his own stuff like Nem has. But yeah, show him how to bake something once and he'll remember it!

Not immediately, but yes! The wings size aren't like an immediate display of how much energy an incubus has at that given time, it's more like - Jackson is very magically malnourished, and as a result he has smaller wings that aren't strong enough to carry him (demons don't fly solely from aerodynamics - magic wings). So since we first saw him his wings have definitely grown, his horns probably have a little bit as well, but it's a gradual growth from over time getting more energy "nutrition".

I also wanted to ask, when he's in human form can he still feel everything he's hiding? If so, he must have to sleep on his front all the time so his wings don't get in the way!

A little bit, but it's more like a phantom limb, when he transforms the extra stuff stops physically existing rather than just going invisible. But yeah he probably doesn't enjoy sleeping on him back while in human form, but more so as a psychological thing. He's probably worried about transforming back while in his sleep, it's probably happened to him in the past.

Lochlan = does he need to go back to being in his merform in order to stay physically healthy or is it more of a mental health thing for him?

Just a personal wellbeing thing. He could perfectly healthily live on land for the rest of his life, but it's like - Imagine you grew up on Earth, and then board a spaceship with the prospect of never setting foot planet-side again.

What's been the things he's loved most about the surface world and are there any things about his original home he really misses?

I imagine the abundance of technology was a colossal culture-shock! There's a reason he starts both audios talking about popular human media, films and music! The things he's probably heard about the surface are likely several decades out of date since most merfolk he knew probably never went up themselves. He probably most misses the freedom of the ocean that a lake can't quite cover, the wildlife and of course friends, and other demihumans.

#mage bunkshelf #audio rp #audio roleplay #asmr roleplay #oc lore #original character #audio drama #mitch's #mitch the raccoon

8 notes · View notes

sonnet009games · 8 months ago

Text

OUT NOW: Incubus Chapter 1!

You are a demon hunter. He is an incubus. A fateful meeting, a deal struck, and neither of your lives will ever be the same.

Demonology: Incubus is an episodic interactive fiction series, featuring:

a customizable male/female/non-binary protagonist

a male love interest

explicit, interactive sex scenes

Chapter 1 is 10,000+ words (30 minutes approx) and introduces the protagonist, a private detective by day and demon hunter by night, and their soon-to-be-partner—a capricious, enigmatic, hyper-sexual incubus.

Platform: PC/Mac

Rating: 18+

Price: Free (Future chapters will be $1.00 each)

Content warning for Chapter 1:

THIS GAME IS FOR ADULTS ONLY

(Note: The sexual content in Incubus is not optional. Player discretion advised.)

DOWNLOAD INCUBUS: CHAPTER 1

#Demonology: Incubus #Demonology Incubus #Demonology IF #Incubus IF #interactive fiction #release

548 notes · View notes

bastetwastaken · 4 months ago

Text

Character intro: Aviditas/ Avi

"The desires of the heart are powerful, they can lead to both ecstasy and ruin. Lucky for you, I’m an expert in both."

His head rolled to the side as he was overcome with fatigue, but instead of finding an empty room, his eyes fell on a figure sat perched on the back of his sofa. He couldn't work out what it was exactly… some sort of bird…human…goat thing. Maybe he was hallucinating in his final moments. He frowned, trying to focus on the creature he thought he could see but his vision was blurry. "Aw, not gone yet, hm?" The strange figure spoke as it crossed its arms, dark feathered wings fluttering behind it. "That's okay, I can wait." That captivating voice certainly sounded human, but he couldn't understand why whoever was here had so many extra non-human parts. He squinted at it, lifting his head slowly for a better look. The things wings spread out behind it, framing a beautiful human looking figure perfectly. Wait, was this an angel? Had it come to take him to whatever came next? His lips parted and he tried to speak but it hurt his throat and all that came out was a harsh whisper. "What are you?" A smooth chuckle reached his ears and he found himself fixated on the creature before him. It tilted its head and said nothing as for a moment, it simply…watched him. "A Demon, of course." The other said with a smile, unsettlingly sharp teeth on full display. "I was here to finish you off, but it looks like you've done my job for me, I owe you one." A wink. "Come find me in Hell when you get settled in, hm? I'll show you a good time as a thank you~"

The need to know basics:

Age: Around 4786

Pronouns: Any pronouns, demons have no gender so Avi will simply conform to human perceptions of gender subject to his needs.

Sexuality: Yes. Personality: - Talkative - Flirty - Outgoing - Charismatic - Excitable Occupation: - Incubus/succubus. - Entertainer at an adult club on earth

Habits/Mannerisms: - Very lose morals (if he even knows what morals are) - Carries a small notebook with them which contains strange symbols and he writes in it periodically, especially when he hears something interesting. - Often blunt, but not in a harsh way just in the way that he sees things in a simplified way mostly. - Can get very excitable over new interesting things. - Draws people to him. - Able to talk his way out of almost anything.

Background: - Aviditas is a Latin name which means longing, desire, lust. It was given to him just after his creation. - Avi was never human, instead he is a hell born Incubus. He’s never been alive, or known an existence before that he has now. - Life in hell for them isn’t exactly easy. They are expected to do whatever their master says, without question, and he has done this for a long time. - Before a human changes the way he see's the world, he's never had many aspirations and always accepted the way things are as how they should be, but once his mind is opened, he's not sure he can ever go back to blind obediance...

Avi’s demonology comes from the representation of demons in both Christianity and Hebrew text.

Demons are essentially angels who failed to follow gods instructions, they’re not always inherently evil, more independent actors that aren’t so different from a human in terms of actual morality. However, some demons have their own agenda and can be tempted by primal desires, whilst others are directly influenced by the demons in charge in Hell and actively serve those demons' agendas.

There are demons who worship god, demons who are genuinely good-they’re just very quiet about it.

Avi speaks, reads and writes Enochian, (an occult constructed language which is spoken by angels and demons and other celestial entities, thought to be the first language of christ.) but since his job relies on communication he can also speak any human language as if it’s his own. It’s kind of like the Allspeak of the gods in Norse mythology. He does struggle to read though, often relying on text to speech to use modern technology, and he cannot write any human language. He’s never needed to learn how. Anyone not of angelic/demonic origin won’t be able to understand Enochian, it’s just not able to be perceived by the human mind. It will be possible to see the symbols though if Avi writes them out.

So he’s a demon, but what can Avi actually do?

Only certain kinds of demons can possess people. Avi cannot possess a person or an animal, but he can take their form and mimic them perfectly if he knows enough about them.

For Avi's power to fully work, he has to create a moment of weakness in the target. This is often easy for him to do through temptation. Once the person accepts him, invites him in, or falls for his charm then he is able to use his power on them.

Avis power will make even the lightest of touches feel intense to someone, everything with him will feel so much better than it ever has done with any other person. This is so he can create a stronger desire in someone and therefore have more Lust to feed on.

He can hypnotise his prey to make sure they don’t fully realise what he is. At any point he can blur the lines a little and make the person think he’s just a regular human who’s very good at what he’s doing. This is why he isn’t worried about showing his demonic features even in human form although generally if he’s out in public or doing his human job, he will keep his horns and wings hidden but he likes those things about himself so is reluctant to do so.

Avi can create obsession in a person, it’s a kind of defence mechanism and survival trait. He can make someone willing to protect him, fight for him, keep him safe from other threats to the point where they will willingly die for him. He can make them act impulsively, take risks they might not have done before and even change their personality entirely.

He can create obsession by visiting a person frequently, being intimate with them often and imprinting on them so they feel unable to live without him. He makes them feel like they desperately need him around, and this suits him fine when he needs to secure longer term food or has to hide from something. It will not be clear to the person under his spell what’s going on, but his spell can be broken by his own choice or by force if the right methods are used. (Avi will not be able to do this to a person who’s heart already belongs to another). Obsession can also occur accidentally if Avi is not careful to detach himself from a person.

Avi can sometimes become attached to a human. He tries not to do this, but if it does happen then Avi will become the irrational one. He’ll swear to protect the person, risk his own life to do so and may also stop feeding off others in favour of spending time with the person. - It’s more like an addiction for Avi though than actual feelings, he just follows his instinct which tells him he needs that person and can’t let them go.

Demons have mates, but Avi has not yet found one. He doubts he ever will find one, but this also means that he can accidentally imprint on humans he feeds on and bond with them, although the bonding part has to be consensual. It would be possible for a human to become Avi’s mate, but that would probably have its own issues due to the fact Avi is immortal and if a demon loses their mate, they cease to exist.

Avi can heal himself easily and can even heal others of simple things if he likes them enough. He can also take pain away with his touch and closeness. He has a very high pain tolerance too, it takes a lot to really hurt him.

His saliva acts as an aphrodisiac.

He can sense the true nature of a soul if he chooses to (although he'll likely only do this when it suits his purpose cause it takes effort)

------

Avi is one of the main characters of my fantasy romance between a demon and the human they accidentally saved from death.

The above image was created with Picrew’s “♡ doshi's oc avatar maker ♡“ Link is in the image

#writeblr #creative writing #fantasy #fantasy romance #a demon falling in love with a human- cliche? Yes. Do I care? No.#Avi character stuff #oc info #oc intro

16 notes · View notes

satancopilotsmytardis · 1 year ago

Note

Okay here me out, somnophilia

Pairing: Shigadabi

Content: TW Medical Trauma/Medical play, TW Disordered Eating, Masochism, Sadism, Fear play, Consensual Somnophilia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood Play, implied marathon sex, Incubus!Shigaraki

It's not exactly a fucking surprise that the self-proclaimed Demon King has an adopted son who is actually a demon. Dabi wasn't banking on Shigaraki being an incubus and that did throw him for a loop a little. Has known a few succubi in passing while he was on the streets, usually recruiting human sex workers to their numbers to keep their apparently vast number of willing victims happy. His understanding was that succubi and incubi are the same species with small physical differences, that it just has to do with if the demon was submissive or dominant, and that gender really had nothing to do with it. But Shigaraki is different from the succubi he's met before. He looks human for one. Messy pale blue hair, skin sallow, bleeds from the scratches on his neck he makes with human nails and not retractable claws, no tail, no wings, no horns. The only sign of what he is that Dabi can see are his vibrant red eyes, and that's still not that uncommon in this day and age. And Duster also, very notably, doesn't disappear every other day to fuck someone.

He's glad that he's not the only one who is curious about that, because he doesn't end up having to be the one who asks about it. Ends up being Spinner who broaches the topic, which is not really a surprise, he'd immediately hit it off with their weird demonic boss. Happens one night when they're drinking and shooting the shit. Still trying to get to know each other. "Hey, Tomura, can I ask a... personal question?"

"I can feed off sexual energy, I just choose not to." Immediate, tone completely dry and uninterested as he takes a drink. Says it like he was just waiting for one of them to get bold enough to ask, like he's been asked a million times before.

"You just eat human food, Shiggy?"

"No, I feed on nightmares." There's a pregnant pause after that and he does look a little amused as he sets down his glass and actually turns from the bar. Turns to them with the look that means they're about to get a lecture. "Incubi have always been able to feed on nightmares, the earliest sightings of us were from victims who woke up in the middle of a feeding. For a while, we were explained away as sleep paralysis hallucinations, but after the Great Ascension," the sudden opening of the gates of Hell or whatever that allowed demons to move to the mortal realm in vast numbers a century ago, "we became better known, and discovered that most of the lore about us was stripped back to the sexual element. It's believed," he goes on before anyone can ask how nightmare eaters became known as sex demons, "that during a feeding in the thirteen hundreds, a victim grew aroused while their nightmares were being eaten. Fear and lust trigger a lot of the same physiological responses in mortals, and that incubus found that they liked the taste of arousal better than fear, and that it sustained them for longer and more deeply. More of our kind started to try, and over time that became the dominant feeding strategy."

They all absorb that for a minute. He's not a scholar of demonology so he doesn't know how much of that information is true, but he figures that Shigaraki really doesn't have a reason to lie about it. "So where are your wings and stuff?" He figures if they're already asking invasive questions about his diet, he's not going to get dusted for asking about his physical appearance as well. Because succubi are well, they're hot as fuck. Lots of demons are attractive, but every succubus he's ever met is so insanely hot that being around them could make his brain short-circuit. And Shigaraki is... Shigaraki. Scrawny, pale, cracked skin and chapped lips, unflattering haircut. Definitely not going to have an easy time seducing anyone.

"One of the benefits of my mutation," his quirk-like decay that he can spread to anything with a touch, though apparently, he can't feed on the lifeforce that comes out of his victims, "Is a more-or-less human form. I usually wear this one because it takes a lot less energy to maintain and I don't feed often enough to have a surplus to spare."

"You're hungry?" Toga asks sounding a little worried. She's got a few drops of demon blood in her somewhere, Dabi's not sure what species, but it makes her need the blood she drinks for more than just fueling her quirk. Gets incredibly lethargic and even spent an afternoon puking her brains out when her stores spoiled after her mini-fridge failed. Took them all opening a vein for her to get her back on her feet and that was only after one missed meal.

"It's fine. I feed when I have to." Dismissive. Finishes his drink.

"Forgive me if this is overstepping," Compress says carefully. "But if there aren't any adverse side effects, couldn't we supply a source of nutrition for you?"

"If any of you want to make yourselves a meal, you're welcome to, but nightmare eating is not generally a pleasant experience. There's a reason it took centuries for us to realize that arousal was a different option. If you want to try it anyway, just leave your door unlocked at night. If I smell your dreams souring, I might wander in."

///

Dabi had realized after that conversation that Duster doesn't make nightmares. Needs someone to already be having one to feed on them, and although he's fairly certain none of the others lock their doors at night anymore, he never hears Shigaraki haunting the halls late at night. Because the others don't really have nightmares. Not like him. Not every night. Not so bad that sometimes he singes his sheets, that his bed is always awash with the smell of smoke when he wakes. Still hesitates. Normally dreams about helplessness, about being alone, about pain, from too big knuckles against his skin and from the fire. He doesn't know if he wants Duster to know the shape of his nightmares. But they're getting worse than they have been in years, probably because he actually has a thought and a chance to kill his father if he stays with the League. He's barely been sleeping. Must smell like a buffet to the demon.

So one night he leaves the door unlocked.

///

The flames are all around his body, he's alone and they are raging out of control, and... and no one is coming to help him. No one ever comes. Terror soaks his mind, phantom pain racing along his limbs, and the more distressed he gets, the hotter his quirk burns. A vicious cycle of everything getting worse and worse, and he can't escape.

"So this is how you got your scars?" Cool hands against his shoulders. He tries to turn his head, to see the body that is pressing along his spine, but he's held tight, one of the hands moving from his arm to his chin to keep him looking forward, wicked black talons curling out of his nailbed. "Glad you finally let me in, you've been driving me crazy for weeks."

His fear hazy mind knows that voice, thinks it should understand the words, but logic and reason drift away so quickly against the terror seeping through his brain.

"Come on, firefly, can't run away from it forever. Going to burn up eventually. Let me help you." The cool body presses him forward, he tries to thrash, to get away, but his terror goes, the flames get closer, and then he's being pushed. Inferno against his skin, pain worse than it has ever been before, he tries to find his voice, but all he manages to let out is a choked scream--

///

Wakes with terror soaking his mind and a cool hand pressed over his mouth. He hates to have to do it coming off of such an intense nightmare, but he lights up his hand, ready to burn whoever is touching him--

Shigaraki's eyes are glowing red and a little worried where he's perched on the edge of the bed. That sort of brings him back, lets the flames die on his hand, lets him start to catch his breath. In his room, left the door open for him. He calms and Duster pulls his hand away from his mouth, kept one finger raised to keep him quiet without killing him. "Could've given me a little more forewarning you were gonna make them worse."

"I told you it wouldn't be pleasant." Shigaraki watches him for another second, "I didn't finish, you're going to be shaky, might have more insomnia if I don't."

"What exactly does 'finishing' imply here, Duster?"

"Have you ever had sleep paralysis before?" He nods, tries to run a hand through his hair. "Will be just like that, might get hard to breathe for a few minutes, but you're not in any danger."

"Fine."

"Lay back."

Dabi settles back on the bed and Shigaraki's eyes start to glow again. Drag over his body, and then he presses a hand to his sternum. Shig's hand is as cool as it was in the dream and Dabi barely gets a chance to register that before his body is locking up and paralyzed. Feels like an elephant is sitting on his chest, the barely shaken terror of his nightmare coming back in full force. Duster's eyes glow a little brighter as he leans in closer.

"Thank you for the meal." Words a honeyed whisper as he leans in close. His other hand catches his chin and forces his mouth open. For a second Dabi's fear spikes a little sharper, worried the other man is going to kiss him, definitely didn't give him permission for that. But he just leans in close and Dabi feels something shift inside of him. It's a foreign sensation, like something under his skin, between the layers of it, tangled along his veins, is moving. It doesn't hurt, but it feels strange, and his heart is racing, is sure that Duster must be able to feel it against his palm. And that strange shifting thing starts to crawl up the back of his throat, spills out into his mouth, but he can't taste anything but smoke on his tongue. Can see a faintly glowing blue mist pour out from between his lips, as Shigaraki opens his. Shotguns something that is definitely not smoke out of him. It takes an eternity, and he realizes with mounting panic that he can't breathe at all. His terror builds and builds, is sure he should be igniting, but even his quirk feels paralyzed. Can't do anything but let Shigaraki do what he wants to him.

Not expecting Duster's eyes to fall shut after a moment, leaning a little closer, making their noses brush, as he... indulges in his fear. Like it's the best thing he's ever tasted. Or, he guesses more accurately, is probably the first thing he's eaten in weeks unless he's been sneaking off to get his fix elsewhere. It takes a few horrible breathless minutes before that pressure inside of his skin dissipates, the pale fog stops pouring from his lips and Shigaraki pulls away. Dabi takes a shuddering breath as control of his limbs comes back to him, but he still can't make himself move, suddenly exhausted.

"Go to sleep," Duster instructs him lightly when he must see him struggling to keep his eyes open. Doesn't manage anything else before the dark is swallowing him up in a blissfully dreamless slumber again.

///

They do not talk about it the next morning aside from Dabi remarking that it was, "Weird as shit, Duster". And then they get right back to work. Dabi did not know that not having any dreams was an aftereffect of being fed on. Sleeps like a baby for the first time in a literal decade for a whole week after letting Duster nibble on his nightmares. Which means that when they start up again he leaves the door unlocked.

This goes on for a few months, he doesn't usually wake up during it anymore. Knows that Duster is getting a good look at what horrors of his past made him this way, but he never says anything about it when they come out of the dream. So he figures that it doesn't really matter, if it becomes a problem he'll stop. But Shigaraki is looking better since they started doing this. Lets a little more of his demon self leak out around the edges. His build looks like it's filling out, makes them all realize he wasn't just thin before, he was starving and malnourished. He looks healthier, he stops clawing at his neck constantly, and Dabi can't help but wonder if that was a compulsion, like people who get stressed and pull out their hair. They all realize he was sick before he started feeding regularly, and he's so much better now. Much calmer, responsible, and level-headed too.

Dabi really does not like the fact that AFO remarks on the changes with some derision during one of the check-ins they're around for. It's not overt, but Dabi definitely gets the sense that the supervillain is not pleased with the idea that Shigaraki is feeding regularly, especially before Duster clarifies he's been eating dreams, not drawing attention to himself by finding partners. Knows immediately that for as much as All For One acts lenient and doting, that he isn't thrilled with Shigaraki's nature and limitations. Dabi bristles with that. Keeps his door unlocked.

Duster doesn't come back to his room for a week.

///

This is a nightmare, but it's calm. Dabi is sitting in the training room. This is shortly after he went to the doctor, after his hair turned white. He's waiting for his father to come in and start their training because it's his day off. This is the day he realized that his father didn't care about him if he couldn't help him to achieve his goals. He sits on the floor. This is an old fear, it mingles with sorrow and the low simmer of his rage.

He never sees Duster come into his dreams, but he knows that he's with him before the creature sits down beside him. He doesn't hide here anymore, wears a visage he's guessing is halfway between his human form and real form. Pretty, hair much longer, fuller frame, sharper teeth and black claws, but still no wings or tail. He looks around the room and they sit in silence for a few minutes.

"If he didn't want you to eat sex then he shouldn't have adopted a sex demon," Dabi says without preamble, without turning to look to see how his words land. "You shouldn't starve yourself for his approval, it's not worth it, and you'll be more powerful than he can ever claim to be if you don't."

"I don't know if you have room to talk, firefly. Look at what you did to yourself trying to get your father's approval."

"Yeah, and it didn't fucking work. If anyone can tell you with authority that it's not worth it, it's me." The silence stretches for a little while, but the silence, the emptiness are what builds his fear in this space, and he tries to break their hold on him, even if that's impossible with a fucking nightmare-eater sitting less than a foot away from him. "...Does feeding on sex work differently than fear?"

"It does. There's a physical aspect to it, of course, and... sex is even more of a symbol of life. It sates our hunger much more deeply, but it can't curb our violent nature like fear can. There are still a fair number of my kind who forcibly take both to satisfy themselves, but there are less barbaric ways to have both."

"Oh yeah?" He picks at a staple curling over the back of his hand. "How's that, Duster?"

"Start feeding while your partner is still in the nightmare. It can provide... a good balance."

He hums in the back of his throat.

"...I can taste your interest, Dabi."

Can taste the little tang of arousal that broke through his fear once he started contemplating this in full. Probably shouldn't be propositioning his boss to get the other man to spite his father. To live vicariously through that spite. Definitely not a healthy way to deal with the helplessness this nightmare is inspiring. "If you're not we can drop it. Don't want to make this weird for you."

Duster doesn't say anything for a while. Soaks in the fear until it starts to go dull and a little hazy. Must be getting close to finishing feeding. "...Think about it. Night after your next nightmare, if you leave your door open for me I'll know you want it."

Must know he wants it now with the shiver of anticipation that goes through him at the words. "'Kay, Shig."

When he gets up the next morning he finds Duster is still half turned to his demon form, the others, especially Toga crowing about his new look. Duster doesn't look at him when he says he just has a little more energy to burn than normal.

///

He leaves the door unlocked for Duster. Figures that he's already offering himself up as a meal, already knows where this night is going to go, and strips naked before getting into bed, leaves his bottle of lube sitting on the nightstand. Can't say he's anything other than forward. And then he forces himself to sleep.

The nightmare, when it comes, is a room he doesn't dream of often, but certainly one that terrifies him. After fleeing the hospital, he still was falling apart, still eventually needed to get the staples across his whole body, eventually had to get more as he finished his growth spurt. Ended up at a back alley clinic that wasn't sterile enough, that didn't give pain killers for their procedures because they never wanted to tempt their less than scrutable clientele into breaking in and taking or damaging the few supplies they had. Had been some of the worst pain he'd ever been through. Couldn't even drink to numb it because alcohol is a blood thinner. Can't even smell weed now without getting sick. Immediately wants to wake up, but he doesn't even get a chance to try and pinch himself or anything else. Always has more control over his body in the dreams Duster eats, but not now. Not when he's being dragged by an invisible force onto the operating table that still has a rusty streak of blood dried on the edge. He thrashes, trying to get out of the grasp of the invisible entity that's pushing him down against the surface. The whole room is cold, he feels surrounded by it. It's heavy and pinning him down before the leather straps can bind him, before the quirk suppression collar is locked around his neck to keep him cool.

Dabi tries to find his voice, to try and get this to stop, but it feels like there's a hand pressed over his mouth, the sensation quickly replaced with the gag that had been shoved between his teeth to keep him from biting off his tongue while the doctor worked. Dabi wants to scream, wants to cry, can't. His mind is so saturated with his terror that when he feels the soft invisible brush of lips along his throat he flinches against his restraints. Gets a little sigh against his skin too before there's a tongue following the touch, still a little too cool against his skin.

Hands start to move over his body then, across his chest, toying with his nipples until there's a confused heat trying to slip in alongside his nightmare. He wants to just give himself over to that, let Duster make him feel good with whatever he's doing to his body in the waking world, but the second that thought even flits around the edge of his mind, the hands aren't bringing soft touches anymore, they're bringing pain. White-hot, blinding, as invisible talons hook under the seam across his stomach and pull. Hot blood pours out of him as the ruined flesh is set aside, pours over his cheeks as he sobs around his gag. And then the hands go right back to trying to find the places where he's sensitive. Fingers alternating between pressing into the wound and along the sensitive edge of it to make him gasp, writhe, and moan. Makes his brain so saturated in terror while forcing pleasure under his skin. He feels delirious as the touches, the mouth, grows bolder and bolder.

Lets out a loud, broken sob as he feels something wrap around his thigh and force his legs open a little wider, tight around the seam that curves over that section of skin. Makes him wide enough clawed fingers can touch his-- Dabi thrashes, and the rope-like thing around his thigh tightens to keep him still, and clawed fingers tear their way inside. The pain is blinding. Pain from everywhere, made worse because he's shaking and sobbing so hard. But his cock stays hard. When he offered the other man his body alongside his nightmares, he didn't think Shigaraki would mutilate him.

Didn't think he would tear him open fresh when the fingers leave so something far, far bigger can press inside his unwilling body. That sensation paired with the rope around his thigh pulling hard enough to make that skin tear free of his staples as well, has him screaming his eyes flying open--

///

Dark in his room, but Shigaraki's eyes are glowing again, casting a little light, and Dabi gives a rough sob. But the sound gets lost in a moan when Duster's hips rock into his. When his fear-saturated mind realizes that none of the hurts were real. There's no pain anywhere across his body there's only,

"Aaah," a long breathless moan coming out of him as Shig rolls their hips, sending all of his nerves sparking with fresh pleasure. Makes him shiver and tremble against the sheets for a whole different reason as he feels how full he is of the demon's cock. Takes him a second to blink away the tears enough to see clearly as something else shifts as they move. Realizes dazedly that those are Tomura's wings moving in the same lazy rhythm as his thrusts. Big and black and bat-like, that his hair is past his shoulders and so white it nearly glows, that his body is definitely more muscular than it usually is, and that the rope around his thigh is a long, black spaded tail that's holding him open for the demon.

"Weren't supposed to wake up yet, firefly. Still need to finish your dream," leans down and licks away some of the blood on his cheek, "Can stop--"

"Don't stop," begs immediately, everything feels so good. Feels so much better coming out of the nightmare where it all hurt so badly. He wants to reach for him, but his limbs are heavy. Duster shifts, leaning closer and bracing his weight on his arms, his hair creating a curtain around them as it slips over his shoulders. Dabi is expecting it this time, has already opened his mouth when his chest goes so tight and his lungs stop working, but it's still frightening to find himself paralyzed again. But the asphyxiation lasts much longer than it did the first time. Lasts as Duster moves and moves and moves inside of him. Dabi is certain he should have passed out as his eyes start to leak blood again. Must be an incubus thing to keep him alive even without breath for the eternity it takes as his terror and pleasure build, and build, and build. His cock is aching between his legs, dripping against his stomach. Never cums without more direct stimulation there but Dabi feels like he's going to if Duster keeps moving like this. That strange sensation starts to build under his skin again, pale blue fog starting to trickle out from between his lips.

"That's it, baby, let it happen. You taste so good, firefly." Didn't know that Tomura's voice could turn into that low seductive growl as a whine builds up in his hazy head. Feels like he's going to unravel around the too much that's pressing in at him at every angle. He's so full everywhere, nowhere more than his hole, stretched around the biggest cock he's ever had, stroking his prostate on every thrust. "Cum for me, Dabi."

Never been able to orgasm on command, but his pleasure bursts through him, sends his cum painting his stomach and his hole clenching tightly around Duster's cock. Heightens his delirious pleasure even as that pressure tears itself out from beneath his skin, pours out of his mouth as a roiling cloud of glowing blue smoke with white electricity crackling through it. Tomura opens his mouth, sharp, sharp fangs on the top and bottom eye-teeth, and swallows it up again. Moans as soon as it's past his lips, hips moving a little rougher. Dabi's so sensitive that he wants to whine, but he can't, still no air in his lungs.

Only manages to suck in a breath when Tomura pushes in deep one more time before he spills his release inside of him. Dabi's whole body goes limp as he gasps and pants, trying to get air back into his starving brain. Feels like he's going to float away. Tomura presses a light kiss against his lips before shifting back down his body. It takes him a minute to get his wits back about him,

"What are you doing, Duster?"

"You taste so good, firefly," murmured against his chest as he starts to nip, and lick, and kiss his way across his skin. "Would you let me have seconds?" Licks up a smear of his cum as his eyes flick up to meet his. Dabi feels his cock trying to twitch back to life. Doesn't know how he could possibly say no when Tomura made him feel that good. Fuck. Probably a demon thing that's getting him hard again so fast as Duster licks away the cum on his stomach. Sees his cock hardening and lets out something he can only describe as a purr. "Need an answer, firefly."

"You can have whatever you want--" he croaks out recklessly. Barely has given him permission before Tomura is purring again and sinking his mouth down over his cock.

///

Duster has seconds, thirds, turns him into a twelve-course meal. Makes his broken body feel better than he'd ever even thought possible and when he does eventually pass out, he wakes up feeling more well-rested than he has in his entire life. When they finally join the others downstairs the next day, everyone is very mature about it. They do not even snort about the fact that Dabi can barely walk, or that Tomura is still fully shifted. Ate so well for the first time in Dabi's guessing years that he can't transform back. He's sharper like this, stronger, healthier. No benefits to starving himself for All For One's approval. And Dabi is more than willing to be a buffet for as long as the demon wants to indulge in him.

Thanks for submitting!

#tanco speaks #ask #asks #shigadabi #my writing #prompt response #kinktober drabble asks

55 notes · View notes