#also when the demons keep stepping in the circle

[plainclothesdisaster]

“What the hell am I looking at.”

Batman stands next to him, arms folded, appraising the same piece of plain notebook paper on the table. To the untrained eye it looks like someone has scrawled a handful of shitty doodles and notes on it. But to John Constantine’s eye? Well, he was thanking his very limited lucky stars that he didn’t have a personal encounter with whatever god or demon that had given that paper to Bats in the first place.

Batman frowns. “I don’t know. That’s what you’re here for.”

“And if I told you I don’t want to touch whatever this is with a ten foot pole?”

Batman points to a green sticky note stuck on the paper’s bottom corner.

Call the Hellblazer if you need a tutorial.

Well, fuck. So much for flying under the radar.

“So. You know what it is.” Bats says it as a statement not a question, which is, of course, accurate. John knew what it was before Batman even led him to the black table at the center of the Batcave, where the paper sat in the center like some delicate work of art. The whole cave smacked of ozone and ectoplasm from the second he walked in. It’s positively filled with potential energy on a cosmic scale, emanating from that single, annoyingly unassuming source.

“That,” John starts, resenting the no-smoking-in-the-Batcave rule now more than ever, “Is a summoning sigil. A very powerful summoning sigil. How in hell did you end up with it?”

Bats hands him yet another green sticky note. This one reads:

Use in cases of: Mind control, literal apocalypse (ONLY if my fault). That’s it. Nothing else. If you do I will know and I will permanently turn off the gravity in the Watchtower as payback.

Thought I’d save you the trouble of making my file yourself.

-D

P.S. No spoilers, John. :)

Bats re-folds his arms. “It was given to me by a coworker.”

It’s a contingency plan, John realizes. One of Batman’s trademark ideas that piss everyone off but he does anyway. Usually the League Members didn’t personally and willingly hand over their personal kryptonite, though. John certainly hadn’t. And there’s also the issue that most Leaguers kryptonite isn’t this powerful.

“Care to enlighten me which of your coworkers is on a first name basis with the Ancient of Time?”

“Hn.”

“Not ringing any bells? How about this then: which Leaguer is strong enough that their contingency plan is giving you the personal calling card of a god?”

“He knows you.”

And John is just so thrilled that two of his names showed up in the context of god-summoning. So neat for him. Not problematic in the slightest. What’s only slightly less problematic is that he doesn’t know who wrote the notes- none of the current Justice League members fit the bill. Not that he’s ever been good at keeping up with the cape parade, but he would have known if something this powerful stepped this close to his territory.

Unless…

“When you say coworker, what exactly do you mean?”

“Does it matter?”

“You don’t typically make contingency plans for non JL members.”

“He values his privacy.”

Not a member of the Justice League, then. Powerful enough to hide in plain sight and also have an Ancient on speed dial. Self aware enough to deliver this nuclear option of a contingency plan.

John knows who it is.

The only question left is why the fuck Batman has the Ancient of Space, King of all Ghosts, on his maintenance staff.

But he won’t ask that, because according to that cheeky little sticky note, Batman didn’t know. And John is not about to piss off an Ancient by spoiling his gig.

“Well Bats. If you end up needing to use it you just prick your finger, touch the circle, and say that bit of Latin there.” He waves his fingers at the scribbles, still unwilling to get any closer. “But I hope for all our sakes that you never need it.”

“And why’s that?”

John resists rolling his eyes. He doesn’t resist the urge to grab a cigarette and put it between his lips. He’s not planning on sticking around much longer anyways. “Because if you do, it means we’re fucked. Like, cosmically.”

Batman glares at the cigarette but decides not to comment.

“Look mate I don’t want to get involved in your hiring practices, but have you considered background checks?”

“I trust him.”

“I should hope so.”

John sighs. He can feel a headache coming on. Batman didn’t just hand out his trust willy-nilly, so the king in disguise must have done something to earn it. It’s not much solace, but he’ll take it.

DPxDC Mechanical Engineer Danny

Danny caught the attention of Batman while studying at Gotham University for his alternative energy projects. He’s hired right out of college to work on the Watchtower.

He shows absolutely no tell of his abilities till there’s a dire situation- Flash’s electric discharge messes with one of his projects in progress and the whole base would have lost air pressure if he hadn’t done a quick fix using telekinesis and ice.

Of course Batman notices.

Batman assumes the worst- he suspects Danny’s a rogue of some kind, someone who has infiltrated the Justice League with an ulterior motive. But he can’t just fire Danny now- he’s the only one who knows how the new Watchtower energy source works. Plus, he’s not letting Danny go anywhere until he’s figured out his true motives.

Cue Batman subtly testing Danny- tossing things at him to trigger inhuman fast reflexes, having him lift too-heavy machinery, setting up convenient opportunities to steal or snoop or otherwise be up to no good. Danny does take advantage but only once, to use a computer terminal with unlocked clearance. He didn’t plant any bugs that Barman could find, and he otherwise kept up his powerless civilian act perfectly.

Still, Batman’s not satisfied. He brings an infrasonic sound emitter to Danny’s lab one day, and that, of all things, is what gets Danny to break.

“I know what you’re doing,” Danny admits with a sigh, finally. “If you’re really that suspicious of me, I can leave, but I kinda like my job so I’d prefer not to. The benefits are insane compared to what’s standard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. yeah. How about you turn off the freaking noise generator and we can talk?”

“Hm.” Batman obliges, and he takes the stool next to Danny at his gesture.

“Number one, I’m not a meta. Despite all the data and conclusions you’ve probably drawn otherwise. Number two, I’m on your side. I’m here to work on the base, that’s it. I follow your rules to the letter.”

“The-“

“The classified files I looked at? Yeah that was the one exception. You already know what I looked at, I’m sure, but maybe you haven’t figured out why. It goes back to point one- I may not be a meta, but I am something that organization, the GIW, cares about. I looked at your files on them to sus out your relations. Seeing as I don’t particularly love being the victim to twelve degrees of human rights violations if I can avoid it.”

“Hm.” The Ghost Intelligence Ward was one of many government agencies that the Justice League hadn’t worked closely with. But they also hadn’t been flagged for Justice League investigation. Danny’s comments made him doubt that call.

“Any other questions?”

“If you’re not a meta, what are you?”

“I’m an engineer. A pretty decent one. And I’d really, really like it to stay that way.”

Batman considers, and ultimately lets him stay. He likes Danny (everyone likes Danny), and it would be a massive pain in the ass to replace him. He really is a good engineer.

It’s only much later that his faith in Danny is repaid in spades.

Batman finds Danny on the Watchtower command bridge. Alarms are blaring, the station has been knocked out of orbit, out the window there’s shrapnel floating everywhere as a space battle rages around them.

On the station it’s chaos. Technicians run around, shouts from the med bay, sparks from the walls.

Batman and Danny stand at the main controls, watching the battle outside, stoic, unmoving.

Wonder Woman’s harried voice crackles through on coms: “We need backup.”

“There is no more backup.” Batman replies, while looking pointedly at Danny.

“What?”

Batman doesn’t move.

“What.”

“The impact from Darkseid’s initial attack should have sent this station on a terminal trajectory toward the planet.”

“Well. We aren’t currently plummeting to our deaths, so turns out it didn’t do that.”

“You did something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe Superman nudged us back on course in all the chaos.”

“I’ve been watching the trackers. No one else with the capability has come near the station.”

“Can’t you just be grateful we got lucky?”

Sounds of peril screech over the coms. Danny’s face scrunches.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. As it is now, we are going to lose this fight.”

“Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”

“I’m asking you. You can help, can’t you?”

The glare-off lasts a long moment more before Danny breaks.

“Fuck. Fuckity fuck.” Danny runs his hands through his hair. “Shit. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you to save this and countless other worlds from a genocide. I’m also asking you to save my friends.”

Danny looks at him, hard, weary, and with a kind of deep resolve that feels far too ancient to be on the face of a supposed twenty-something.

“Fine. Fine. Okay.” He steps back and transforms. If Batman is surprised when he shakes off his human appearance like an old coat, he doesn’t show it. But what’s undeniable is the being in Danny’s place has the unmistakable presence of power.

“No one else can know.” His voice echoes in a way that’s sonically impossible, both sounding closer and further away than he should be.

He pulls a gear-shaped medallion seemingly out of thin air and puts it over his head in one motion.

“If I get in trouble for this, I’m blaming you.”

He vanishes. Outside, the shape of the battle changes instantly. The stars seem to glow brighter as the arms of the galaxy flash with the colors of the aurora. Then it’s like the void of space itself comes alive. It moves the spaceships back like they’re toys, plucking them from one side of the field to the other. It finds Darkseid at the heart of the chaos and massive arms of nothingness and darkness wrap around him. He’s screaming as it swallows him whole.

His armies scatter. The battle turns. The JL deal with the stragglers, but the air of relief is palpable.

Danny reappears next to Batman, once again donning his grease-stained coveralls. Arms folded.

“Happy?”

It took all of five minutes. Less, probably. Batman tamps down a thousand questions.

“Thank you.”

“I’m gonna need two weeks off minimum.” Danny snaps. “One to deal with the bureaucratic nightmare you’ve just caused me, and another to recover from the headache.”

Batman blanks. “Granted.”

Danny sighs. “And I��m not fixing the station until I’m back. It won’t fall out of the sky as is. Make up whatever excuse you want.”

“Done.” He considers. “I would prefer to tell them the truth. That you saved us.”

Danny glares. “I’m not supposed to save you. I made a pact not to use my power to influence the mortal realm.”

“A pact with who?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “The embodiment of Time. The concept of Justice. Among others.” He smirks at Batman’s confusion.

“And what, exactly, does that make you?”

He stands, framed by the space window, haloed by the stars. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Batman frowns.

“Look. I like you guys. I like working on your base. I like supporting the work you do. But you can not go factoring me in to any of your plans or contingencies. This was a one time thing.

“So to answer your question again: I’m an engineer.”

[stainedglassthreads]

Saw someone mention something about 'of course Gabriel would get along with a demon, he's an awful person--' and no no no you're missing the point. Like yeah, he does suck and has been awful to Aziraphale, but he's not Uniquely Awful, nor is that the reason he gets along with Beelzebub. He gets along with Beelzebub because they are fundamentally the same, because there is no difference between angels and demons in Good Omens.

One of the things reiterated again and again in the book Good Omens is how Heaven and Hell is fundamentally the same. It's noted that demon wings are not black, but white, and during what while the showdown between Adam and Satan in the series, all the angels and demons actually appear on earth and square off against each other--and the narration specifically says that you couldn't tell the angels apart from the demons. That's why Gabriel and Beelzebub get the same complaints from both Heaven and Hell about how hard it is to get the angels and demons to back down from a war, that's why Crowley says at the end of season 1 that the real Armageddon will be the combined hosts of Heaven and Hell versus humanity. It's why it was mentioned, when talking about season 1, that Heaven and Hell were envisioned as being the upper floors and basement of the same basement--is why the methods to get to both places are always in the same location! The escalators and the elevator!

And that's why Gabriel and Beelzebub got along. Because they were in the exact same position experiencing the exact same difficulties and complaints, and because they the exact same amount of actual care for Heaven and Hell--precisely zero. They fell in love because they're similar, but at the end of the day, all the angels and demons are 'similar', because the demons used to be angels too! Which we are reminded, when Crowley correctly analyzes angels like Muriel, Heaven as a structure, and guesses that they STILL haven't changed the passwords. Crowley recognizes that Heaven and Hell are the same, and are plagued by effectively the same problems, and so he rejects both. He rejects Beelzebub's offer to become a Duke of Hell, even if it would protect Aziraphale. He rejects Aziraphale's offer to become an angel again. Crowley knows that both sides are rife with systematic problems, and so he goes all-in on our side. And on humanity's side.

[lets-try-some-writing]

I got the image of the Jack, Miko and Rafael learning to imitate Distressed/terrified Sparkling cries and using them against the decepticons. It’s a very efficient defense mechanism. Every cybertronian who heard them is freaking out because oh primus how is the squishy thing making that noise and I gotta protect it at all costs. The sheer chaos that would ensue as the ‘protect/rescue the sparkling’ programming kicks in full force.

——

The vehicons are clustered at the other end of the room panicking. They don’t know what to do. The human sparklings are looking right at them and making distress noises. The guilt is killing them.

Knockout going “is the car form less alarming?! If I turn into a car will you stop seeing me as the threat?!”

Breakdown is having a breakdown.

Starscream pinned to the wall on the other side of the room having an internal crisis. He doesn’t like this. Make it stop.

Soundwave makes no noise but you can FEEL the sheer distress radiating off of him.

Megatron is frozen. No thoughts, head empty. He’s not moving at all. He doesn’t know how to handle this.

——

The autobots have mixed feelings about this. They’re glad the kids have a way of defending themselves but please don’t do it near them. They’re stressed out enough as it is.

(This might sound kinda dumb but I thought it was kinda funny. Very tired while writing this)

Wait no this is actually brilliant.

The Decepticons never anticipated their long buried parental nature to be used against them. No one did. But they day the human children turned up on the battlefield looking far too confident, every Bot and Con present had the all encompassing feeling that something was terribly wrong. Their suspicions were quickly confirmed when, before the Decepticons could do much of anything to get the relics they were after, Rafael began to wail.

Normally, human screams meant nothing. But there was a certain pitch that sounded so close to a cry of distress from a sparkling that, to warriors who had not heard a sparkling in millennia, it was enough to send them running to help. In this case, the issue was only compounded as the children scattered like mice and started making the same noises. The Decepticons could hardly focus on the Autobots booking it to the relics as they frantically tried to locate the fictitious sparklings calling for aid.

The Vehicons managed to get to Jack, but he just kept looking up at them defiantly. Every time one of the dozen or so Vehicons on the field tried to grab him, blast him, or otherwise hurt him, Jack would chirp like a sparkling and send all of them scurrying back. It wasn't cute to the Vehicons. Having never seen actual sparklings but still having the coding needed to adore them, they looked at Jack and saw a weird frame-walker. They weren't sure what to do about it except try to haul themselves away while also keeping a vague circle around the human male.

Miko on the other hand made it a point to chase after Megatron and Soundwave, screeching like a sparkling about to be shredded. Neither stopped for her, but Megatron completely lost his train of thought every time that screech rang out. He could have been aiming at Optimus with a perfect head shot and he would be unable to fire as Miko's distressed sounds rang out in his audials. He KNEW she wasn't a sparking. His coding wasn't even that strong. But by Primus, hearing her screech was the same as watching a civilian get run over by a bus, repeatedly. Focus was impossible.

Soundwave wasn't much better. He didn't react outwardly, but the slowing of his steps and the way he tried to sidestep Miko gave away his distress. He avoided her like the plague, trying to refocus but being unable to really get far as Miko screamed like a demon. It was a fight against the Unmaker himself to keep Soundwave from bolting over to collect the sparkling who sounded so very upset.

Rafael, for his part, followed Miko's lead and harassed the other three members of High Command most often found out on the field. Breakdown ran screaming the moment Rafael started chirping at him. This was both out of fear of the frame-walker and to escape the inevitable overreaction of his coding. He may or may not have attempted parkour once or twice to get as far away from the smallest of the humans as possible.

Knockout tried to ignore Rafael when the kid chirped up at him, he really really did. But how does one ignore the Cybertronian equivalent of a soaking wet kitten meowing up at you? Simply put: you don't. Knockout gave in and quickly dropped down to try and soothe the non-existent sparkling every. single. time. Rafael pulled his noise trickery. He never fails to panic and attempt to flash colorful things at Rafael to get him to stop. Every Decepticon has since been endlessly disappointed in him.

Starscream, being terrified of things that really shouldn't be there, took the skies the instant the trio began screeching. Nope. Not today Unicron. He'll get the mission done or get the heck out of dodge to avoid coding coming online. He doesn't need empty nest syndrome on top of a crippling case of "I Love Power." He also doesn't need to deal with the horrific mental image of a squishy somehow managing to sound like a sparkling. Nope. Nope. NOPE.

The Autobots are grateful the kids can protect themselves a bit now. But by Primus, they have known NO peace since the kids figured it all out.

[sai-int]

hello! i was wondering if you could either write about mainly soap (or the whole TF-141) finding out you’re pregnant and what they would be like all throughout the 9 months. It could either be head cannons or a fic, whatever you prefer 🤗

i tried to find fics about it but i can find barely any 😞

i tried to fight the poly!141 x reader demons, but i couldn't

cw: poly!141 x reader, pregnancy stuff, implied fem/afab!reader, (use of mom), no, it doesn't matter who's kid it is.

finding out....

johnny is the first to react when you tell them the news. he's stunned silent for a split second before breaking into a wide grin and laughing. “we’re havin’ a bairn?” he pulls you into his arms, twirling you around despite your protests. “this is amazin’! we're gonna be parents!”

he's immediately excited, though slightly panicked. “wait…what do we need tae do? do we start buyin’ things? are we ready for this?” he's practically already nesting.

simon doesn’t say much at first. his gaze shifts between you and the others before he lets out a quiet, “well, that’s somethin' new."

in truth, he didn't know how to handle this information. his trauma left him scarred and terrified of the idea of parenting, but after some thought, he’ll find you alone and murmur, “y'gonna be great at this, lovie. we all will.” It’s one of the rare times he lets his emotions show.

kyle reacts with a mix of shock and excitement. “wait, wait—are we serious? this is real?” when you nod, he breaks into a wide smile, pulling you into a hug and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“this is amazing. you're gonna be a great mom, doll. we'll figure it out together.”

john's reaction is steady but warm. he gives you a soft smile and kisses the top of your head. “looks like our family’s getting a little bigger.”

he's calm and reassuring, already thinking about what this means for the team and how they’ll support you in the months ahead.

first trimester...

johnny's bouncing off the walls, thrilled about the news but hilariously overprotective. he refuses to let you lift anything heavier than a water bottle and constantly asks how you’re feeling.

“ye need anythin’? a pillow? water? more snacks?” you'll have to reassure him a hundred times a day that you’re fine.

he's also immediately obsessed with baby gear, sending you links to cribs, strollers, and onesies with ridiculous captions like, “look at this wee one—it’s got ducks on it!”

simon is less overtly excited but becomes quietly attentive. he starts keeping track of your cravings and your mood swings, making sure the others don’t overwhelm you too much.

if you’re feeling nauseous, he’ll silently sit with you, rubbing small circles on your back. he's not one for grand gestures, but his steady presence is comforting.

he's also the one who subtly puts his foot down when johnny starts suggesting that the kid'll be named “soap junior.”

kyle is practical but sweet, always checking in with you and making sure you’re eating enough. “don't forget to take your vitamins. and let me know if you need me to grab anything.”

he's fascinated by the changes in your body, always asking questions. “is it weird? like, do you feel different already?” he's genuinely curious and wants to understand every part of the process. not to mention the fact this his eyes refuse to leave your stomach once you start showing.

john keeps the everyone grounded. when the others (cough—johnny—cough) start fussing too much, he steps in. “give her some space. she's not made of glass.”

second trimester...

by now, johnny's even more excited, especially when the baby starts moving. he insists on feeling every kick and might even get a little competitive with the others. “aye, th' bairn kicked fur me first, didn’t it?”

he starts talking to your belly in gaelic. no one knows that he's saying but kyle has a hunch that he's praying.

simon is more engaged now, though still subtle. he'll casually start doing the more practical things like baby-proofing or arranging for a larger living space.

he secretly reads up on pregnancy and parenthood, though he’ll never admit it. you catch him once, and he grumbles, “just making sure we’re prepared.” but you know it's for his own sake.

kyle takes the role of “baby planner” seriously, organizing everything from nursery ideas to potential schedules for when the baby arrives. he's also the one to encourage you to take care of yourself.

“you're doing amazing, love. just let us handle the rest, yeah?” he's always ready with a shoulder rub or a cup of tea when you need it.

john really begins to hone his 'dad energy'. he ensures you’re not overexerting yourself and keeps everyone focused. he starts sharing stories about his own experiences with kids, whether it’s nieces, nephews, or friends’ children, to reassure you. he holds your hand on the days when you're feeling a bit off, offering a warm embrace for you to melt in.

third trimester...

johnny is on defcon 1. he's counting down the seconds and trying to distract himself with building the crib (badly) and then taking it down, just to reassemble it. or assembling strollers. “don't worry, love, i've got this… where’s the instruction manual?”

he's constantly doting on you, rubbing your calves and back or carrying things for you. “you're a goddess, y’know that? absolutely goddess.”

simon becomes even more protective. the parenthood book he'd been reading mentioned having a mhospital bag' for when the time comes. when your third trimester comes, he's prepping, making sure a bag is packed and everything’s ready to go when the time comes. “better t'be prepared than scramblin' last minute.”

kyle is the calmest of the bunch, which makes him your go-to when you’re feeling overwhelmed. he's always ready to lend an ear or a helping hand.

"you're not doing this alone.” he'd mumble to you while drawing soft circles on your skin. his steady reassurance keeps everyone else from spiraling into chaos, as well.

d-day...

it starts with you waking up in the middle of the night, a sharp cramp making you wince. you sit up, trying to brush it off, but another contraction hits, and it’s unmistakable: the baby is coming.

johnny is the first one you wake up. he's immediately wide-eyed and panicking. “wait, this is it? this is actually it?” he's scrambling to find his boots, yelling down the hall for the others, and tripping over his own feet in his rush.

simon appears a moment later, calm but laser-focused. “time the contractions,” he says, already grabbing the hospital bag he prepared weeks ago. he gently helps you to your feet, his hand steady on your lower back to support you.

kyle's ushering you to sit down (as simon tries to shove him off) and asking practical questions. “how far apart are they? are you feeling okay? deep breaths, love.” he's already calling ahead to the hospital to let them know you’re on your way.

john takes charge of the logistics. he's already in the car and heating it up. “let's move, lads. we're trained for chaos; this is no different.” his voice is firm, but his eyes are filled with concern as he checks on you.

the ride is chaotic, to say the least. johnny insists on sitting in the backseat with you, holding your hand and offering completely and entirely unhelpful but enthusiastic encouragement.

"you’re doin’ amazing, lass. just breathe! In and out, aye? we're almost there!”

"i'm going into labor, i didn't forget how to fucking breathe, johnny!" this is starting to feel like the worst period cramps of your life.

kyle is the one actually timing your contractions and giving johnny side-eyes every time he gets too loud. “you're not the one in labor, soap. chill.”

under any other circumstance, simon would not be allowed to drive. not even around the block. tonight though? he drives like a man on a mission. he's cutting through traffic like a getaway driver with 50k in the trunk. he barely says a word nd his jaw is clenched tight, his knuckles are white on the wheel. when you let out a particularly loud groan, he mutters, “we're almost there. hang on.”

john rides shotgun, barking out directions to simon and giving you steady updates. “you're doing great, dove. just focus on breathing. we'll be there in five.”

the team storms the hospital like it's a raid. john carries you inside while johnny frantically explains to the nurses, barely coherent in his excitement. “she's havin’ th' bairn! right now!”

when they wheel you into the delivery room, johnny is by your side, holding your hand like his life depends on it. he's grinning and panicking simultaneously. “yer incredible, love. just a bit more. ye've got this!”

simon stands beside you and smooths your hair out of your face, placing a hand on your shoulder during every contraction. he can tell you're a little scared. “one at a time. you're stronger than this.” his presence feels like a rock in the storm.

kyle makes sure you’re comfortable and liaising with the medical team. “she likes ice chips, not water,” he tells a nurse, even as he offers you his hand. “you're amazing. we're so proud of you, hun."

john is the unshakable anchor, standing at the foot of the bed, his voice steady and calm. “that's it. just like that. one more push.” he doesn’t waver for a second, even when you're literally howling in pain.

when the baby’s first cries fill the room, everything changes.

johnny lets out an actual cheer, tears streaming down his face. “we did it! we've got a bairn!” he's laughing, crying, and probably squeezing your hand too hard.

simon doesn’t say a word, all shock and awe, but when the nurse places the baby in your arms, his eyes soften in a way you’ve never seen before. He murmurs, “it's perfect,” his voice breaking slightly.

kyle cuts the cord with a shaky laugh, grinning ear-to-ear. “welcome to the world, little one.” he presses a kiss to your temple, his joy radiant.

john is last to hold the baby, cradling it in his large, steady hands. “you've done so well, love... I'm so proud of you.” his voice is thick with unshed tears and pride as he hands the baby back to you.

the night ends with a baby nestled in your arms and your family surrounding you. a chaotic, loving, perfectly imperfect family.

mlist

[swtsupernatural]

S.W || ANGEL BY MY SIDE

Sam Winchester x Fem!Angel!Reader

Content Warning blood, mentions of death, sam fighting for bodily autonomy, religious themes & talk of heaven, reader being shorter than Sam

Summary Angst, hurt-/comfort for Sam, slow burn i think - Sam was supposed to die tonight. At least, that's what his guardian angel told him after she saved him from death.

W.C. 2.4k words

Playlist: ♫ Kiss of Life - Sade, Telephone - daste., Salvatore - Lana Del Rey

A.N. first sam fic ! this came to me sunday night, been thinking alot about spn angels lately. enjoy! - claire

It had been a long fucking day for Sam Winchester. Not only was the demon he found in Manhattan trying to summon more, but they were working with a large pack of them and an even larger pack of vampires that lurked in Vermont’s lush forests. The two creatures had teamed up, and as a result Sam was surrounded in a poorly lit dirt road in the forest, moonlight shining on his knife. He couldn’t see or hear Dean, and he knew Castiel was busy with extremely pressing ‘angel matters’ as he put it. He had vamps and demons circling him, and Dean had the stupid demon knife. Or, he did when Sam had seen him a few minutes ago. Now, he had no clue who had their hands on it. His brain was twisting as he desperately tried to wring out ideas of escape from his head like a sponge. He was trapped. Fuck. A demon sprung, holding a large, saw-edged knife slicing his forearm making him tense. A measly cut never stopped him, and he twisted the demon’s neck, shoving the body to the side as another few came behind him. Twisting and trying desperately to gank two at once, Sam missed the others on his right, one stabbing Sam deep in his lower abdomen.

Significantly outnumbered, Sam tried to keep his thoughts collected. But it was difficult with five vamps and six demons on his ass, and the blood slowly staining his shirt, the agonizing pain making him want to double over. The demons suddenly pounced on him simultaneously. He managed to injure one of them, but the rest kept their grip on his arms, legs, neck, and torso tight. One of the taller vamps sauntered over to him, her lips curling into a smile. 

“You’re gonna taste so sweet, boy. I can already tell…” She pulled his hair back roughly, her painted fingers tight on his long hair. She exposed his neck, and Sam had never thrashed more than he had in that moment. It seemed like all he had done in his adult life was fight for his bodily autonomy. He felt numb — of course this would be how he died. The second he felt her lips on his skin, he felt and heard something he never had.

A loud whoosh, the hands and arms restricting him gone, and a swift change in the chipping air all in less than a second. He was in the motel. His motel he and Dean were staying at in some small town in Vermont.

But…there was still a single hand on his shoulder. However, it was gentle. Too gentle. He turned his head, his eyes meeting yours; a woman. You couldn’t have been much older than him. But you weren't really a woman. He drew his gun from his belt, effectively pushing from you, making space between you two. 

“Who the hell are you?” He was assuming you were an angel. He didn’t know of many other creatures or beings that could move him so effectively and so fast. He was also thinking how everything in this world came with a price. You weren't saving his life to do him a favor or to be nice. That wasn’t how this ever worked. Except; there you stood, your hands tentatively coming up in a gesture of surrender. 

“Sam. I’m very glad you are okay.” You stated your name, a small smile on your lips. Still, he held his gun up directly at your face.

“So much for a thanks, I guess. I’m your guardian angel, Sam. There’s no need for hostility.” Sam faulted, just a bit, but you took a single step towards him and he was back in his rock-solid stance.

“I’m sure. What do you want?” 

“Well, I’d like to heal that cut in your stomach. It’s quite deep.”

He scoffed, “Why? So I can owe you? So I can be in your debt?”

You were silent for a moment, your eyes widening a bit. “Castiel never told you? Sam, certain angels…we are assigned to humans to watch over them. We are permitted to help you, prevent you from death if it is not your time, and only if we are not spotted. We cannot be seen, or…well, in simple terms, we’ll be kicked out of Heaven.” 

“You…you’re my guardian angel? Seriously?” He mulled over you, his eyes squinting in suspicion. “How come we’re talking, then, if I’m never supposed to see you?”

Rolling your eyes suddenly that same whoosh came, only a lot quieter. You had his gun in your hand, pulling the mag out, throwing the piece in one direction and the gun elsewhere in the motel where neither of you could reach it.

“You were going to die. You were supposed to die. That was your time, Sam. I defected to save you. I’d like a ‘thank you’ at the very least.”

Sam breathed quickly through his nose deciding what to do. Your eyes were so genuine. He’d only ever seen that look from one other angel, Cas.

“I…thank you.” You nodded, and he saw realization in your eyes. It was raw and undoubtedly heavy on your being. You nodded. 

“I’m going to put my fingers on your temple and you will feel much better, understand?” You looked at him; from his shaggy hair to his dirty boots, and back up again. “It will be easier if you sit down. You’re much taller than I thought.”

Sam let out a small huff of laughter, sitting on the bed.

“Well, you don’t seem very tall for a guardian angel.” You squint your eyes at him, a look of unshaken power in them that startled Sam to his core. He knew what angels were capable of. You could have killed him and everyone in the motel in seconds. Yet, from someone else’s perspective, you were a hell of a lot shorter than him, and just looked like a regular young woman. 

“My true form is larger than the size of this building, Sam. I know that you know what I am capable of. Even if I may not look like it.”

Sam nodded in an apologetic way, your cold fingers on his temple immediately putting him at ease. Cas had healed him a couple times before but it had felt nowhere as heavily as this. He could feel his wounds closing before he could register what was happening — even the widespread blood stain on his shirt dissipating. He let out a long sigh he didn’t know he was holding, his shoulder slumping forward. He truly felt better than he had in years.

“Thank you. And I’m very aware of what angels can do…though I’ve never met a guardian one.”

You nodded, your face quite close to his. He smiled gently. Cas was never great with personal space either. Yet, Sam always found it funny when the angel would appear a mere foot from his older brother. Now, the last thing on his mind was humor. He would never admit that your presence was intoxicatingly calming. 

“We possess stronger healing powers and sturdier wings than typical angels. Not that it matters much now.” The sorrow in your eyes made guilt settle uncomfortably in Sam’s stomach.

“Why did you save me? I’m not exactly the poster boy for virtue or dignity.”

“I’m aware. But you must understand I’ve been watching you your whole life, Sam. I perfectly believe you deserve another chance on Earth.” Sam gazed into your eyes, trying to find what he could not understand. His father, Dean, Bobby…they had all known and loved him for so long. But they’d never expressed it like you were right now — and he'd never even met you. He had met defected angels before, fallen ones too. They would lose their wings. They would lose their grace. They were as old as the beginning of time, and would sacrifice it all for a single human. 

“But why? You flew me here, but I’m guessing your wings aren't doing too good right now, Angel.”

You stared deeply at his features. You’d seen Sam, watch him grow up before your eyes from the day he was born. But your visions of him were never as clear as they were now. His eyes were a solemn swirl of blues and greens, the inner ring a twirling hazel. The lines on his face told you of his laughter, his light forehead lines telling you of his worries, the short hairs littering his jaw telling you he’d been up for nights focusing on the hunt that was supposed to have ended his life.

“Because I thought…” you looked at a stained part of the unappealing carpet on the floor, your eyes glazing over a bit, “I thought that some of the angels were abusing their power over humans, over hunters. I had been on earth a few times and stupidly got your disease of emotions.” Sam chuckled softly despite the situation, hoping you would feel a tad better. But he knew you didn’t. How could you?

“I felt sympathy for humans. There were unjust things happening everyday, people's lives ending at their wrong time. I thought you were worth saving because–well, maybe it's time angel’s be kind instead of unforgiving.” Sam listened to every word spilling from your lips. You had been very short and to the point with him earlier. You really had begun feeling human emotion, if even a little. 

“And I thought that maybe you’d help me. Help me adjust, at least. I have seen the ways you and your brother act. I know it is selfish of me, but you are close with my closest friend and brother, Castiel.” You took a pause, eyes averting from Sam’s sincere face.

“I have seen you do it for humans and creatures and being alike, Sam. I thought maybe if I was kind to you, you could be kind to me, too.”

Sam stared at you in awe, his jaw slightly open. He honestly wasn’t sure what to say. Of course he would like to help you, but how? You were an angel for God’s sake. Maybe Cas was capable of giving you what you really needed to adjust, to be an angel without your wings, but he’d try. He’d fight like hell to try for you. You saved his life. It dawned on him that he was meant to be dead. He’d likely be in hell at this very moment if you hadn’t intervened. You truly were an angel sent from Heaven for him. 

“Of course I’ll help you, Y/N. You saved my life. I’m not done fighting yet and I’ll try everything I can, as a human at least, to support you.” You smiled. Your eyes were watering and you confusingly blinked at a wet drop falling from your right eye. “What is…” Sam reached a large hand to your cheek, rubbing the tear away. 

“Tears. You’re tearing up. Nearly crying, it happens when you…experience intense emotions, sometimes. Usually they are sad ones, but I’m guessing yours aren't.”

“No. I think I am happy. Maybe…anticipatory?” Your stomach was in knots, but you didn’t think you were sick. Castiel had explained it as…excitement. Sam smiled at your words. 

“Why is everything I say to you funny, Sam?”

Sam shook his head, still smiling as he brought a hand to your shoulder, “Not everything, you’re just…amusing.” You nodded after a moment as if agreeing with him. You knew you weren't accustomed to human culture or customs, you felt out of place every time you were on Earth. Nevertheless; now it was your home. 

“I find you very amusing. And you can be funny, but only when you are not being stubborn.”

“You really have seen me my whole life.”

“But I like that about you. You have such complex emotions.”

“Yea, I do…” Sam trailed off, the twisting in his stomach intensifying as he looked at your lips briefly. “Can I…” he leaned in closer, but not too close. He didn’t want to crowd your space, but you just looked so heavenly sitting next to him on his bed, your lovely hair framing your soft, glowing face. You tilted your head the way Cas did when he was confused about something human-like.

“Can you what, Sam?”

Fuck, your voice was so pretty. “Nevermind,” he leaned back slightly, getting up to call Dean to find out what happened to him before you grabbed his arm pulling him into a tight hug. 

“Thank you, Sam.”

“You realize you shouldn't be thanking me, right?”

“I know. But I also know humans can be very cruel and you’ve shown me a lot of kindness. I wasn't sure it was still possible in your world. Oh, and Dean is alright. I asked Castiel to help him as I did you.” Sam kissed your forehead, and it felt like it lit on fire. Your cheeks were warm, and you weren't sure if you were ill, or what was happening to your very human vessel.

“Sam, are you sick?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Why d’you ask?”

“You just made my skin hot, and my stomach feels weird.” Sam froze, his lips coming into a smirk, “Did I?” He tested the waters, lacing his fingers over your arm, and you stared up at him, your cheeks pink and your mouth slightly open. 

You pulled him down on the bed, holding his face with your hands. “Yes.” You stated matter-of-factly.

He smiled, sliding his hands over your cheek. “You gonna do anything about that?” Sam spoke in your ear lowly and you turned your head, his hair tickling your face and leaving goosebumps on your arms.

“I don’t know what to do.” He curled further into your face, leaning closer to your ear, his mouth on the edge.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything, Angel.” 

You nodded, but opted for leaning up and placing a kiss on his forehead too.

“I think I need to teach you about other human stuff before we uh…do that.” You nodded, still leaning on Sam, when a thought came to your head. 

“Hey, Sam?” He gazed over your face, listening attentively to your sweet voice.

“I still have my grace and powers. But, since I’m not a real angel anymore…do you think I can try things like ice cream and taste the real flavor?” He threw his head back, laughing boyishly. 

“Yea, yea, I can buy you ice cream, Angel.”

[wayward-dreamer]

Playing With Fate

Square/s filled: "You need to get your strength back" @anyfandomkinkbingo (quote in bold) |

Pairing: Demon!Dean x F!Reader

Word count: 3,545

Summary: Y/N offers to help with the search for Dean after he becomes a demon and leaves the bunker. Her plan doesn't go the way she intended, but that didn't mean it wasn't a desired outcome.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, smut: dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, hair pulling, choking, spanking, dacryphilia, degradation, dubcon, rough sex, mirror sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up people), squirting, I think that's it, but lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: Please blame the s10 rewatch I was in the middle of for this. I take no responsibility for the level of horny everyone's going to be after this lmao... Also, I've done things a little differently with this one, so I hope y'all enjoy! As always thanks to my loves @hintsofhoney and @makeadealwithdean for betaing this. Don't know where I'd be without either of you <3

What the fuck am I doing?

That was the first thought that entered Y/N’s mind, but it was fleeting, disappearing as she looked up at Dean from her submissive position on her knees, her mouth wrapped tight around his thick girth as her hands pressed into the muscle of his bare thighs. His gaze was intense, green orbs that occasionally gave way to solid black, something she had never anticipated would arouse her the way it had from the first moment he revealed them to her. He caressed her hollowed cheeks with his thumb, his other hand in her hair as her head bobbed back and forth, taking his length deep into her throat. It soon wasn’t enough for him, his grip tightening in her strands as he held her still, his pelvis smacking vigorously against her. Saliva dripped in long strings around her mouth as he chuckled, relishing in the way she choked and gagged around him, the glugging of her throat adding to the pleasurable cacophony that reached his ears.

Tears pricked her eyes as she moaned and spluttered around his shaft, her own thighs squeezing together to keep her arousal at bay for a moment. He noticed the way she squirmed, the way her flesh pressed tightly, the signs of her need obvious to him. He drew back from her throat, a harsh gasp leaving as her lungs burned, her chest heaving as she sucked in air and met his gaze.

“Spread your legs, sweetheart,” he ordered, grinning as he wiped her saliva around her lips. “Want that pussy of yours as wet as your mouth, got it?”

“Y-Yes,” she stuttered, nodding weakly.

“Yes what?” he growled, tugging at the roots of her hair and making her whimper.

“Yes sir,” she added, staring up at him.

The smirk never left his face as he thrusted into her waiting mouth once more. Following his instruction and opening her legs, her fingers moving between them and finding her clit already lightly covered in her wetness. She moaned wantonly as she circled the swollen nub, her eyes fluttering with the euphoria that coursed through her. Not only at the feeling of her hand between her legs, but at the way he was using her, and the shame of willingly letting him fading away with every plunge of his cock into her throat.

This hadn’t been the plan when she first found him. Far from it, in fact.

When Sam had called her with the location of the bar Dean had been frequenting, she had full intention of stepping in and setting him straight. He had warned her about Dean being a demon now, something that had happened several weeks before and which she chastised him for not telling her sooner. She could’ve helped and maybe with their “geek brains” together, as the elder Winchester liked to call them, they could’ve found him sooner. She wished she had known; her and Dean were friends, and she hated the fact that she hadn’t been there for him.

Friends were supposed to look out for each other. Especially those types of friends that were sometimes, on occasion, more than that.

Nevertheless, Sam said he would join her but she insisted on doing this alone, not listening to his protests and telling him to call her back once he had found Dean’s whereabouts.

When Y/N walked into that dive and took a seat at the bar, her eyes immediately found him. There he sat, at a table in the middle of the room, whiskey tumbler in hand. He didn’t look any different to the normal Dean she knew, not even when a blonde waitress came over to him and handed him another glass, draping her arm across his broad shoulders. She shrugged it off, now wasn’t the time to get jealous. She ordered herself a whiskey too, taking it and facing the room, crossing one leg over the other which allowed her denim skirt to ride up her thigh. That along with a tight, black tank top and black heeled ankle boots were her attire for the night; completely different to the usual hunter gear she’d be wearing but she needed something to catch his eye.

And sure enough, it did.

Dean had always had a higher level of awareness thanks to being a hunter, but after becoming a demon it had become a sixth sense. A familiar energy caught his attention as soon as it stepped into the room, his head lifting up to meet Y/N’s eyes as she stared back at him. He hadn’t seen her for a while, and if she was here that meant Sam had gotten to her. He had the initial thought of sending her on her way as he stood up, but as he made his way over to her, caught the way her thighs pressed together where they were crossed, he knew he could have some fun with her.

A grin pulled at his face as he gazed down at her, seeing her perfect mouth taking his intimidating length with each thrust, and he was glad that he had been right. It had been a long time since they had been together like this, and it was clear that he hadn’t taken advantage of their situation as often as he should have from the way she was working her tongue around him. She was unmistakably desperate to please him, to be with him in any way possible, even if he did have a new set of black eyes.

He had no problem exploiting that fact.

“Look so good choking on my cock, baby,” he groaned, holding her down against his pelvis.

His hand tightened in her hair once more and pulled her off his cock again, a dark chuckle escaping him as he heard her shuddering breath. Saliva hung off the edge of her chin, dripping onto the swell of her breasts, her eyes wide as she waited obediently for whatever he had planned for her next.

“Stand in front of the mirror,” he instructed, glancing up at the corner of the room before looking back at her. “Want you to see yourself losing control while I fuck you.”

Y/N somehow found the strength to stand from her position on the floor, the burning in her limbs only adding to the fire that was rising within her with each staggered step towards the mirror. Her appearance reflecting back to her was already a mess; her hair tangled in certain places, saliva drying and hardening at the edges of her mouth. As she spread her legs and curled her hands on either side of the frame, Dean stepped up behind her, calloused fingers sliding down the smooth skin of her back. Their eyes briefly met in the mirror before his gaze shifted down, following the movement of his hands as they admired the curve of her ass, a groan escaping him as his thumb grazed her puckered hole down to the sticky, wet warmth of her folds. She gasped as she felt the thick digit slide back and forth, no doubt wetting his skin as her arousal grew and dripped from her sex.

“So fucking wet,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, but he finally left his eyes and addressed her again. “Ready to take my cock, aren’t ya?”

Her lack of response earned her a heavy hand against the flesh of her ass, causing a yelp to escape her. Her eyes widened as they made contact with his, narrowed and glaring at her through the mirror. He had barely done anything to her and she was already overwhelmed by his actions. Her mind was caught somewhere between not knowing how much more she could take, and wanting to take everything he had to give. Now that he was a demon, she had no idea how much that was, but she was more than willing to find out.

His hand came down twice more in quick succession, making her jolt forward as she shrieked. The sting was intense but delicious as the sensation spread through her whole body, and she knew this was only the beginning.

“You better be fucking ready for me, sweetheart. ‘Cause I ain’t holding back.”

The implication of his words was clear. He wasn’t the Dean she knew anymore, and she shouldn’t expect him to be.

A brief nod was all she could muster as an answer to his earlier question, and that was all he needed. He brought his thumb to his mouth, glistening with her wetness as his plump lips wrapped around it. He kept his gaze on the reflection in front of him, their eyes locked as she breathed heavily, a groan leaving him as he sucked at the digit and took hold of his shaft, rubbing it through her folds. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him do that; taste her off his fingers,  but it hit differently now.

Before she could register what was happening, he lined himself to her entrance and slammed into her, her walls sheathing his thickness completely as a ragged moan fell from her lips.

The sound was a harsh contrast to the soft whimper that she had tried to suppress when he sat down in front of her at the bar, flagging down the bartender and ordering himself another whiskey. He turned to her, his eyes taking her in as they roamed down her frame, an eyebrow lifting in approval at her low cut top and the way her skirt had ridden up slightly, exposing more of her thigh as she sat.

“Didn’t think Sammy would send someone else to do his job,” he started, sipping his whiskey once it was in front of him. “Guess he’s losing practice without me, huh?”

“He didn’t send me,” she clarified, trying to remain firm in his presence. “And there’s a quick fix for that. Just come home.”

He scoffed, chuckling as he dropped his head and shook it. “No fucking way.”

The bite and careless lilt of his laugh and words stung, but she couldn’t dwell on it.

“Dean, this isn’t you,” she reasoned.

“Oh, but it is, Y/N,” he countered, as he turned on the bar stool and leaned his forearms back on the bar, his eyes never leaving her. “It’s the new me.”

Green irises flashed to solid black, holding her gaze long enough for a fear she had never experienced before to run down her back. Along with another strange yet familiar feeling between her legs. Strange because this wasn’t the time or place for it. As his eyes quickly returned to normal, Y/N’s jaw clenched as she stared up at him.

“Dean, look, you don’t have any options here,” she stated, pushing her drink aside and reaching into the left pocket of her denim skirt. “You’re coming with me back to the bunker, and Sam’s gonna get to work on curing you. End of discussion.”

Dean sipped his drink as he watched her take out a pair of silver handcuffs, devil’s traps carved into them. He slowly placed his drink down as he smirked, his gaze shifting from them up to her. “I think those are gonna look better on you tonight, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes, but she knew they weren’t as effective as usual. He was getting under her skin and they both knew it. From her other pocket, she pulled out the top of a flask as she stared up at him, waiting for him to look back at her as he glanced down.

“Don’t make this harder-” she started but his sinister scoff stopped her.

His green eyes, that once held so much admiration for her, were now void of any kind of emotion as he finally looked at her. Slowly, the shift almost imperceptible, his face hovered an inch away from hers.  “I thought you liked it hard, Y/N. Hard… fast… so rough you wanna feel that ache between your legs for days.”

A shuddered exhale fell from her lips, one she hadn’t realized she had been holding, causing him to chuckle.

“So how ‘bout you stop wastin’ your breath on this back and forth,” he continued, gesturing between them as a smirk spread across his face. “And admit that you’re real curious to know what it’s like to get fucked by a demon.”

Their gazes remained locked as he tested the waters; tested whether temptation would coax her into letting him corrupt her for no other reason than pleasurable amusement. He saw the way fear, guilt and thirst circled in the depths of her eyes, and he hoped it was the last of those that would win.

As Dean peered into those eyes once again, through the mirror’s reflection, he saw all of those things give way to euphoria as he pounded deep into the tight heat between her thighs.

Y/N barely recognized the face staring back at her. Hooded eyes, her mouth agape as a string of erotic noises escaped her with every slap of his hips against the curve of her ass. He had been right. She did enjoy sex when it was harder, faster, so rough that she felt the constant throb at the apex of her thighs. The Dean she knew was well aware of that fact, and this Dean, this… twisted version of him was using that to his full advantage. She wasn’t sure if she was willingly letting him, or if he was coercing her into this sinful act, but it was bliss.

A heavy hand slid up her back and into the strands of her hair, pulling harshly as his sweat slicked chest pressed up against her. His breath fanned over her ear and cheek as they stared at each other. A loud, lustful cry erupted from between her lips as the head of his cock drove deeper into her at this new angle, reaching places within her that hadn’t been explored in a long time. A tear brimmed at the corner of her waterline, rolling down slowly as another followed from the other, her thoughts as overwhelmed as her body by everything she was feeling. He laughed in her ear, the sound wicked as it rumbled from his chest against her back, watching the tears make tracks on her face.

Dean leaned down, the tip of his tongue slipping out between his pouty lips and dragging over the skin, the tang against his taste buds making him groan. Her eyes widened in disbelief, but her core tightened within arousal from the act.

“So fucking hot seeing you like this,” he whispered against her ear. “Just mine to use. You can’t lie to me, Y/N. I can see it in your eyes, can feel it from the way you’re squeezing around me. You love my cock inside this tight, little pussy. You don’t care anymore that I’m a demon, do ya?”

Y/N couldn’t remember the words she had spoken in agreement to leave the bar with him. All she could remember was his hands on her hips, pushing her up against the brick wall, rough lips fused to hers as his thumbs played at the strip of skin exposed between her top and her skirt. All she could recall was the way his fingers slipped under the hem, making her breath hitch as they danced over the flesh of her inner thigh and pulled her thong aside, moving between her folds.

He smirked into the kiss, pulling away and looking deep into her eyes. “So wet already, sweetheart. My black eyes got somethin’ to do with this?”

“No,” she whimpered, trying to remain defiant but she was flailing.

The amused grin he had given her in response then matched the way he was staring back at her through the mirror at that moment.

“N-no,” she moaned, a small smile playing on her lips. “I don’t care anymore…”

Her words had somehow emboldened the pace of his thrusts, the scream silenced in her throat as his calloused fingers wrapped over it tight, his other hand groping at her breasts as he slammed into her. Her own hands struggled to hold herself steady against the mirror, the frame shaking from the brutal force of his hips smacking against her. Her walls clenched around his girth, causing sounds only akin to a feral animal to come from him right against the shell of her ear. Along with the loud squelch between her legs and her own choked moans, she knew it wouldn’t be much longer before she fell over the edge into the deepest depths of hell with him.

No matter how heavenly it felt to have him inside her, she knew she was headed for the fiery pit for what she was doing. It was debauchery at its finest, and yet she couldn’t care less.

Y/N wasn’t sure when it happened. Maybe it was the short walk from the bar across the street to the motel, maybe it was when they stepped through the door, or when they stripped each other of their clothes as their kiss became as heated as their frenzied touches. Maybe it was when she fell to her knees in front of him and wondered what the fuck she was doing, allowing a demon, something she hunted on a regular basis, to invade her every thought and sensation. Even if it was a man she knew very well, it had been wrong.

But it had also never felt so right.

The familiar pull in her core had her eyes squeeze shut, but a tug from Dean’s hand in her hair had them opening again. He made her watch their sinful actions in the mirror once more, as he felt her walls like vice around him.

“Such a good slut just for me,” he groaned, nipping her earlobe. “You’re all mine now, right?”

The lewd moan that escaped her wasn’t enough of an answer for him, as his hand cracked against the globe of her ass, causing her to shriek.

“Tell me,” he growled.

“I-I’m yours,” she finally replied, her voice sounding like a stranger’s from how hoarse it was.

“Damn right,” he grunted.

Her eyes rolled back as her air was still cut off by his heavy grip on her throat, but suddenly it dropped to grip her hips tightly with both hands, as his own began to falter with each frantic thrust. Her lungs burned as short breaths left her, moans turning into loud cries of his name as she reached that euphoric peak, her body convulsing as a stream of liquid gushed down her thigh, pushing his cock out as her wetness spurted against the mirror and dripped onto the carpeted floor. Her chest heaved as she breathed harshly, her vision blurred and unable to focus.

Dean took hold of his shaft, slicked up by her release and pumped his hand back and forth, expletives and groans falling from his parted lips as his cock pulsed in his grip. With one last tug, the veins in his neck strained as he let out a strangled grunt, his eyes flashing to solid black as ropes of his release shot over the small of her back. He grinned as he looked at her with those demon eyes she had found herself aroused by, and she smiled back slightly.

This was definitely not how tonight was supposed to go.

“Fuck, that was hot,” he muttered, grabbing her by her shoulders to steady her.

“Yeah,” was all she managed to push past her heavy breaths as she came down from her high.

“Well, I’m good to go again, but,” he smirked as his eyes flashed back to green irises. “You need to get your strength back.”

Y/N was taken aback by the concern, but she knew better than to assume it was for any other reason than needing her recharged for another round. He moved away from her, but not before smacking her ass once more as he walked away. She stumbled to the edge of the bed, still able to see herself in the mirror, her hand admiring the scratches and bruises forming along her skin. With a strangely content sigh, she fell back against the bed, unbothered by his cum sticking between her and the sheets underneath. She glanced to the side as he sat down next to her, his hand roaming over her body, fingers flicking over her nipple, making her moan softly.

“Take five, sweetheart, ‘cause I ain’t done with you yet.”

She bit her lip as she looked away from him, staring up at the ceiling. She heard a small buzz from her phone in the pocket of skirt, but made no move to search for it on the floor. It was no doubt Sam, texting for an update on how things were going. This was definitely a unique way of laying a trap, certainly not one she was planning, but at least this way Dean would never suspect that she had him right where she wanted him this whole time.

She’d let Sam know where she was eventually. She just wanted to enjoy playing with her own fate a little more.

[miifu666]

Ive shown a bit of what Modern! Suklha would be like in Lego Monkie Kid AU :D. But i also wanna expand more on them!!

⋆˙⟡ — CW : Spoiler, Ooc characters, straying from the main plot :" im only on season 4

LMK! Suklha

An infamous Lawyer. Shook the internet from becoming a Symbol of protection and wisdom into your average money making lawyer.

Almost never interact with the cast even during LBD invasion, she was buried deep in paperworks of trials that she needed to do.

Only came up once or twice as a guidance and to tell the crew what to do incase a certain situation comes, might even give them a predictive situation that'll come to fruition

Barely anyone knows she's pursuing a divorce with Wukong, shes actively trying to chase him to sign the papers. He keeps stalling it.

Wukong never told anyone about her, including MK. Focusing more on spending his pension rather than the relationship he has. Which is the main reason she wanted a divorce, the relationship barely benefit her.

"This is your successor?" Suklha stared at the kid, circling around him like a predator. Her eyes nitpick every single scars and strand on his head, Suklha let out a small humm as she picks off a branch from his hair. "Atleast you picked a human.. they were always more eager to learn than us" her snakelike tail rattled near MK. "Isn't that right, little boy?"

"Aren't you a human?" Her voice echoed.

MK's smile drooped down, feeling his teeth chattering against eachother. This Blue toned woman is hardly giving him an easy time, unlike the TV shots and interviews he's seen. His once proud figure shrinks down, like a little boy fearing the wrath of his own mother. He knows this feeling before... the hopelessness he felt when fighting Lady Bone Demon. It was all too familiar.

"Okayyy! C'mon bud lets get you home" Wukong steps in. Putting a good amount of distance between MK and a confused Suklha. "Maybe youre not up to meeting a gal like her.."

Lmk! Suklha, who Wukong still has feelings for yet runs away from the guilt of neglecting her for far too long. He's older, wiser but he's still bad at confronting his own faults. Especially a recent one.

Remember the book that Suklha created to fuck around with? Yeah the book where it holds the knowledge to everything and anything in the universe, reading the first few sentences can break your sanity? Yeah wukong has it now. Its his now. Its probably the only thing Suklha wanted to keep from the divorce.

Wukong who always tries to talk her out of it ever since he had MK, hiding the paper before planning a meet with her. Despite knowing the words he needed to say, His arrogant attitude kept the apology still.

Suklha, who despite being his Talent lawyer. Tried to keep the relationship professional, for the sake of Wukong's image and her own. Despite joining the mortal realm and its trends, gossips is still the one thing she has an annoyance about.

"YOU!"

The clicking of heavy heels reverberated through the floor, just as the Blue toned Lady huffed out towards the Monkey king that appeared in the doorway.

"SETTLE THE DIVORCE PAPER RIGHT NOW!"

There's a quaint silence as her booming voice rumbled through the gaming room. Monkie kid stared in agape, the figure of his once singular mentor and predecessor being a lone wolf is shattered as the Lady infront of him continued speaking. Mei and the others watched in awe, realizing a dramatic moment is happening in front of their eyes.

"W-wait! Peaches i-!"

"I dont accept any delay, sign. It. Now"

MK looked at the panicked face of his mentor, seeing the once powerful sage looking so defeated was a new experience he'll never forget. Different from the many times he's seen, in amidst of battle Wukong still held hope in his eyes. Now.. its just despair and worry.

"Uh... whats going on?"

Monkey king who despite trying to fix his own relationship problem, is also spreading the words of how meeting with Suklha means "you're a target for the devil". He glares at MK everytime he talks about the news, seeing the familiar antennas and golden rimmed glasses.

Monkey king who turns into an old man who yells at children in his yard everytime he notices MK interest in meeting Suklha the supposed "secret love interest" who sends him mountains of "love" letters. Definitely not about the contract he ignored and divorce notices

He doesn't want anyone helping him in this problem, anyone who has an interest towards it is just showing him how incapable he is. His own pride is stopping him from asking for help.

Monkey king who rarely have time to train MK so he can focus on talking to Suklha, only to have his own student stepping in and tried his best to save the marriage. From sending flowers, free noodles, sharing Wukong's view and made a whole love declaration from Wukong to Suklha in the middle of her Trial.

"Lady Suklha!! Its a gift from the monkey kiing~!" MK knocked on the high tech door, using his legs to hold up the large bouquet he bought at the florist. He made sure the handwriting isn't similar to his, he even added a monkey king doodle at the end of the card.

"MK..." Suklha greeted him, the door opening to reveal a drained and sleep deprived lawyer. Holding the casefile on her other hand in a mess. Her eyes widened while she let out a gasp at the bouquet, the casefile finally meeting its end at the floor. The bouquet is huge! bigger than her!

"Seee, Monkey king kinda dumped this on me today. He said he was afraid of seeing you getting mad over him sooo!" MK grinned widely, moving the bouquet to his hips "here ya go!"

Suklha hesitantly accepted the Bouquet, a look of discomfort grazing her features. "Thank you... MK" "nonono it was monkey ki-!" "You think i dont know my own imbecilic husband's handwriting?" MK looked at the worn out Lady, her mouth smiled gently despite the harsh words coming out of it.

"Maybe if you want to give me something in place of Wukong, remember to use Peaches or Wifey. He uses that more than... ehhh.. caterpillar?" Suklha squinted her eyes, holding the card closer to make sure what she's reading. MK looked at her reaction, is it another failure? The hundredth time where she would still say no when he ask her to talk to wukong? He's been going back and forth between her house and flower fruit mountain just to get the two to an understanding!

Atleast the Monkey King said yes if Suklha di—

"Fine ill go talk to him tomorrow"

"HE SAID IF YOU- wait what did you say again?"

MK stared dumbfounded, his stupid reaction earned a tired chuckle from Suklha.

"Ill go talk to him, thank you for your efforts MK. You're a good kid." She tried to hold the bouquet in one hand, leaving the other to ruffle his hair "although not mine, you do act like a child whose parents are in a fight..."

"Hey!!"

After MK help again, Wukong and Suklha has a better time communicating with eachother. Heck, Wukong likes to stop by just to check up on her and ask her out to go somewhere. Spend a quality time, despite her busy schedule.

MK who feels proud of himself whenever he comes to Flower Fruit Mountain only to meet with a frantic Wukong thats trying to choose between his red flaming glasses or pink hawaiian shirt to pack on his trip with Suklha.

Even after fixing her failing marriage, Suklha kept her friendship with Macaque. Making sure to have a night out together just so they can sit in her garden and talk about whatever that comes in mind. Giving both a sense of relief for both of them, to finally relax after a hectic day. Having someone to talk to despite their own insecurities thats keeping them both alone walking through the path of hardships.

Lastlyy, she holds the world's most complete library. Almost the old-school version of the cloud, sometimes she even hold a slight resentment at how everyone overlook libraries nowadays but well. There's a secret bookshelf that has the portal to any timeline and anything you need, disguised as normal and boring books. Kept in a dusted shed that has more cobwebs. As long as you have Suklha's permission, the books will open itself to you. If not, even with the power of Sandy and Wukong. It'll keep itself shut.

Artwork ©️ Miifu666

Writing ©️ Miifu666

[lostintransist]

Hell's Spawn | It Means Fuck Off

I wasn't planning on posting this yet but I need some feel good chemicals going in my brain before I give my professor the award for being the single most unhelpful teacher I have ever had in my entire life. Mans is actively making my life harder and not easier.

AO3

CW: Mommy issues, lots of negative self talk, general staring at women's bodies even though they just want to be left alone.

Trading shifts, what a simple way to alter the course of one’s life. Something akin to missing a train or a flight delay causing you to miss a connection, some exterior force course correcting you to where you need to be.

Leaning on one elbow on the stainless steel counter studying your text book you can feel your brain melting in your skull. Being a fourth-year medical student had taught you that while one could get a fever hot enough to “cook” the brain in the skull it wouldn’t occur from studying for too long. The voice of your mother itched in the back of your mind, telling you to give up and move on, you’ll never be more than a whore.

That had always been her favorite insult to hurl at you. Puberty hit you like a truck from a number of your favorite animes, transporting you into a woman-like body over the course of one summer. You still had the stretch marks.

Your mother hated it and hated you. She would never say that though. The high-powered pick-me lawyer could never let it be known that the only love she had in her soul had to be provided by the attention of a man. Psych 101 had been an enlightening class. You had nearly decided to go for a psychiatric residency before the chemistry classes debased that idea in your head.

When residency was over and you were settled somewhere you had decided to find a therapist to help you unpack all the shit that your mother had endowed you with. Her snide comments, wool-encased bricks lobbed at you from her high tower where she held both the power and the autonomy to keep you a prisoner, pelted you even now despite the years and distance between you.

The only escape you had found had been concurrent and AP classes in high school and a scholarship to finish your bachelor’s degree in one year directly out of high school and across the country. You worked your ass off for a few years to be old enough to never need her money again and passed the MCAT on the first try. The local medical school had accepted you at twenty-six, an old maid in that first class filled with nineteen and twenty-year-olds. That is how you had landed at a late-night cafe as a barista. You took as little student loans as possible and that meant working late and rising early for classes.

Coming full circle, you had traded shifts with the owner. Lucky bitch had five of the hottest boyfriends who were also boyfriends you had everseen and the bitch was ace. All that luck wasted on someone who didn’t ride their boyfriends until they whimpered night after night after night. God, you needed to get laid.

She had told you when you agreed to switch though that a group would be coming in to use the private room around midnight. She had warned you not to be alarmed but they would all be covered head to toe and would pay with cash. What she had failed to mention is that all four men who would appear at midnight, like wraiths wrapped in darkness, is that they were fucking jacked. They were ripped. To be frank you weren’t sure how any of them put shirts on or how the fabric didn’t rip like they were Bruce Banner turning green. Every one of them wore a surgical mask.

They all stepped to the counter, menacing vibes a miasma that eddied around them. Several patrons were scattered about the space, in quiet conversation or the clacking of keyboard keys, offering the illusion of safety. Aiming a well-trained smile any customer-facing worker would recognize at the men you greeted them.

“Hi welcome in, what can I get started for you?”

The tallest, broadest one, scanned the menu before glancing down. The demons in your mind began howling when instead of landing on your face his gaze landed firmly on the shadows of your cleavage peaking above the edge of your shirt. You had forgotten you had agreed to this shift until it was too late to change into the high-necked band tees you normally wore. The soundtrack of self-hate had always been easier to ignore if you could avoid drawing attention to your body.

“Four large black coffees, sugar and cream on the side.”

No please, no thank you. Fine, whatever wouldn’t be the last person tonight even that wouldn’t treat you with the same respect a wandering cat would receive.

“And you want all of those hot?” You tap away at the screen as you wait for his answer.

“Yes.” His voice should be much lower than it is, but it is still pleasant on the ear. The curl of his tongue around the words tells you English was not learned at his mother’s breast.

“Okay, your price is pulling up, this system slows down after midnight.” You roll your eyes at it, “If you give me a moment I can get that ready for you and let you into the room you have reserved.” You catch sight of the one with blue eyes that burn trailing those selfsame irises down one collarbone, to the bunching of skin, and then trailing back up to the other side.

The sniping words, whore, bitch, no good wench, nothing more than pussy, tits, and a mouth, fly through your mind, debris in the storm picking up speed. Grown and a world away her words still cut at you like glass.

Four hot coffees are settled on the counter as you count out change and return it to a leather-gloved hand. Did he have to buy specialty gloves to ensure that they fit?

The third man shifted his head toward you from behind his sunglasses before turning back to observe the room. A smudge of black hair peeked from below his hat.

Carrying the key along with several packets of sugar in your apron pocket and the carafe of creamer you can feel the fourth man’s eyes digging into your spine directly above your bra strap. No skin had been visible on him since the moment they entered the shop. That level of dedication impressed something in you.

You would have stayed impressed except the man couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Unlocking the door you stepped aside and let the men trail in, careful to keep your back to the wall by the premise of holding the door open with your foot. Once everyone found a seat you set the creamer on the table and turned to leave.

The completely covered one caught your wrist, fiddling with the ties of your bracelet. A friend had given it to you last Christmas when your mother had tried to reach out to ‘mend fences’. Turns out she was getting married again and her fiance wanted to meet the prodigal daughter.

The dainty silver beads pressed into your flesh as he dragged a thumb over them.

“What’s all this about? From a lover?”

The accent on his words tickles your senses. Then the understanding of his question settles home.

Customer service mode leaves your face and body, the bitch your mother always claimed you to be coming out.

“It reads fuck off,” you wrench your hand from his grip and slam the door shut behind you. When you settle back in the kitchen you fire off a text to your boss.

<Heads up, ended up snapping at one of your special customers.

Next, you fire off a message to Quinn, seeing if he could come in a half hour early so you didn’t have to close alone if the layered lechers stayed until closing.

Quinn confirmed he could be in early.

The parade from the conference room occurred as Quinn was arriving, leaving him to hold the door open for them as they passed. Closing duties went faster with Quinn collecting all the dishes for cleaning and you were home and in bed, books prepped for class in the morning on the table.

You woke a few hours later to a reply from your boss.

>Whatever you did they probably deserved it. You know I will back you 100%. But John says they seemed to like you better for snapping.

If you didn’t have to rush to avoid being late for your eleven am class you would have rolled your eyes. They liked being snapped at, that you were mean to them? Yeah, right.

Hell Masterlist | Masterlist

@demothers-empty-blog @beloveds-embrace (boo I hope you like your surprise.)

[fuctacles]

Witch Hunt

for @steddie-spooktober "witch" & @stevieweek "i don't know about this one..." prompt which i've altered quite a bit but used it twice so it kind of evens out, right???

E | 2568 | transfem!Steve (goes by Eve), witch!Steve, demon!Eddie, medieval fantasy, some arson and murder boyfriend vibes, magical srs, possible continuation, im sorry for all the lore | Ao3 more spooktober: "would you please stop trying to scare them?"

Eddie hated his job. Not only the human realm was much colder than Hell, but also, the Deal didn't always work. The success rate has been increasing each time, but it still pissed him off when nothing happened after he's been freezing his balls off for hours. He was starting to think all his fur was just decorative. 

When he had arrived at Heimdall's, the guy threw him a skimpy tunic that barely covered his privates. 

"Is this the only one you have? You can see my whole dick and balls in it," Eddie had complained, but beggars can't be choosers and all that. 

He wraps the fabric tighter around himself when the next gust of air moves clouds away from the moon, making the pile of debris in the clearing visible. Time passes and Eddie waits impatiently, tapping his hooves against the ground, and idly picking stray grass blades from his tail. It seems like the pile moves a couple of times, but it's just the wind disturbing it. 

A distant clock tower strikes midnight, and finally, the ash pile moves and keeps on moving, until a hand emerges. Eddie straightens up, his tail twitching in interest. 

The ashes start breathing, the charred remains get knocked down and a coughing fit raises a dark cloud into the air. She'll be spitting soot for hours, but at least she's up now, another success for the statistics. 

He decides to take pity on the poor girl and steps away from the fence he's been perched on, making room for his wings. With two good swats, the dirt is gone, leaving a slightly dirty, very naked woman in the middle of a charred circle. 

He raises his eyebrows. 

"These fucking perverts burnt you naked?"

She finally notices his presence, her red-rimmed eyes blinking rapidly to clear her vision, and stands up on shaky legs, still low on energy after her resurrection, barely maintaining her balance. Suddenly, Eddie doesn't seem to matter anymore, as her hands fly to her chest. 

"What...?" she murmurs to herself.

Eddie tilts his head, watching the human with curiosity. Usually, the arrival of a demon gets a bigger fanfare, he's almost insulted, but he waits patiently. He already did for so long, and now he has something pretty to lay his eyes on for once. Witches usually came with ugly meat sacks, even after their resurrection. 

"Where the fuck is my dick?!"

Ah, yes, that would explain it. The naked thing, too.

"Do you want it back?" Eddie asks because he's a demon with manners. 

"No!" she protests immediately, eyes snapping up to him from observing her crotch. "No," she adds softer. "I like it like that." Her hand reaches down to inspect her new parts, so Eddie takes it upon himself to swat it away with his tail.

"Hey!" 

He tsks, his long tongue slipping out to flick in a warning. 

"Let's not put any more dirt in your holes, okay?" he berates her. Regretfully, he shrugs off the tunic he's been wearing and throws it at the girl. "For your modesty, m'lady." 

She glowers at him but slips it over her head anyway. What was small for the demon, doesn't do much more for a human, especially not one with the curves that she has. She wrinkles her nose. 

"Is there even a point? You can see my whole—"

Eddie slaps her hand preemptively. 

"Hey! I wasn't even touching it!" 

"Your hand was too close."

"No, it wasn't!" 

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

"Let's clean you up and then you can touch it all you want. You have a river in this ditch?" he asks, nose twitching in the air. He turns at the same time the witch points her hand. 

"To the left of the village." 

Eddie's eyes stray to the cluster of houses she seems determined not to look at.

"Do you have anyone left there?" he asks curiously.

"Not anymore," she scoffs, taking off towards the river. 

Eddie has to follow her, he can't risk losing a witch, but an urge flares inside of him that he has to let loose. He claps his hands together and starts rubbing, sparks flying until a fire forms in his palm. He bounces it from one hand to another and nuzzles it with his finger, always happy to work with the little guys. When he feels the witch is watching him, he refocuses and whispers to it:

"Go, little one. Do your worst."

The flame flies off his palm, aided by a push from Eddie's phantom wings. 

She doesn't ask, only eyes him curiously, but he pushes gently on her back to prompt her into walking along his side. 

"It's gonna take a while," he says without any other explanation. 

The walk isn't long, and soon she's handing over the tunic and dipping into the lazily flowing water, dark like ink but glittering with the reflection of stars above. The night sky is probably the only thing Eddie misses in the Underworld. 

He sits on the plush grass, observing as the witch dunks under the surface and rubs her skin until it turns pink. It still contrasts with the water like it's made of the finest porcelain. 

"I guess you're clean enough to explore now," he says as her movements slow down like she's already contemplating it. She must be, he can taste her curiosity from his spot on the river bank.

"You're gonna sit there and watch?" she glowers at him.

"Of course," he answers matter-of-factly. "I'm a demon."

She huffs, but this time it sounds more amused. Her hand travels down her body.

"What's your name, witch?" Eddie asks, resting his chin on his hand. 

"Stev—" she hesitates. 

"Eve?" he picks up curiously. That would be hilarious. 

She kind of nods, kind of shakes her head. 

"I was Steven, then I went by Stevonne, but..."

"That's okay, take your time," Eddie reassures her. "This is your Rebirth, you can pick any name you like."

She hums, and he can see her hand making slow, circling movements under the water. 

"I like Eve," she admits.

"Yeah?" Eddie perks up with a smile. "You can call me Eddie. It's nice to make your acquaintance, Eve."

She smiles and opens her mouth to say something, but her attention is pulled somewhere above Eddie's shoulder. The water starts glowing orange. 

"Looks like the little guy is having fun," he hums, not looking around. The glow of fire looks better on Eve's skin anyway. 

The river carries distant cries for help, a reminder that it's not just a big, pretty bonfire. 

"Don't worry, he'll get them all," he says.

"I'm not worried," she assures quickly. 

Eve's fixated on the fire consuming her village, her eyes full of awe and the reflection of flames. She's glowing in the now orange water and she looks gorgeous reflecting Eddie's carnage like that. She'll look breathtaking among hellfire. 

"Maybe we could spare some," he wonders out loud with a lazy smile. She looks back at him. "So we can hunt them down later. The way they hunt my new favorite witch."

She smiles, mean and thrilled. He'll have to fight fang and claw to keep her.

"Maybe we could." 

They look at each other for a long while, until his eyes dip. 

"You done?" Eddie looks pointedly at her stilled hand. She sighs with frustration. 

"It's way different from this angle," she complains. 

Eddie laughs out loud, the sound echoed by the collapsing church that used to tower over the townsfolk. 

"Need a hand?" he offers, rolling his eyes when she eyes his claws with distrust. He flicks out his tongue instead. "Need a tongue?" 

Eve's totally on board for that, clambering out of the water, her hazelnut hair dripping over her curves. The wet shine on her skin reflects the dancing flames and Eddie would be in love if he knew how to.

"Weren't you appalled that I was watching you just seconds ago?" he laughs at her, a little bit mean, but he already knows she can take it. 

"Turns out I like that," she shrugs without shame, making Eddie's smile grow. The sight of his sharp teeth doesn't deter her either. In an instant, he has a lap full of a human, or at least as much of one there was left in Eve. He has her tits right in his face and he wouldn't be a demon if he didn't give them a taste, licking the river water off her skin. She sighs, fingers tangling in his unruly mane of hair, seeking purchase in his horns. He groans when she grabs them, and wraps his arms around her, pressing into her skin so he can flip them around, and lay her down in the bed of grass. 

Her yelp turns into a delighted laugh and Eddie trembles with the sound. They don't make witches like that anymore. Free and open to the joys of life, ready to frolic and mingle with the things Unknown. Christianity made it so hard for demons and fae to get laid. 

He presses hot kisses down her torso, spends extra time sucking around her navel, then nibbling around her mound, hiking her thighs higher and higher, nosing at the crease there, inhaling her scent, until he gets to his destination. It takes two, three expert licks for Eve to lock her legs around him and scream into the night. 

Eddie gently laps up around her hole, her juices too precious to let fall on the grass below. Her breath hitches and she trembles but doesn't move away. 

"Do you want more?" he asks, black eyes searching for an answer. 

Her eyes are still full of fire.

"Yes."

So he gives her one more, then three, until he loses count and his tongue is numb and Eve's but a puddle of human-shaped limbs underneath him. When he laps at her entrance, drunk himself on her smell and taste, she spreads her legs invitingly, eyes blown and impossibly wide, sparkling with flames. 

They stare into each other's dark eyes as he slithers his tongue inside. He rubs against her walls, searching for her face for a reaction, but she's too out of it for anything more than an involuntary twitch of muscles. However, when he moves away, she seems disappointed. He crawls up her body to properly look at her face, but before he can say anything, she lurches forward.

Kissing is not something he's used to in such circumstances, but he indulges anyway, letting her tongue inspect the sharp points of his teeth, and maneuver his hand on her breast. He squeezes, laps, and sucks, letting himself get lost in this new dance. 

"You know," he says when she breaks away to restore oxygen. "I don't do that outside of sealing a deal," he admits.

Eve blinks at him owlishly. 

"You don't kiss just for fun? Aren't you a demon?"

Eddie barks out a laugh. 

"I guess kissing is too tame for our tastes." 

"What's your taste?" she asks, curiosity radiating off of her in hot waves. 

He hums, caressing her side.

"Insane witches, apparently."

"What do you do with them?" she presses on, her leg moving dangerously high up his body, the coarse hair of his thighs not enough to deter her.

"Well, personally..." Eddie likes to play with his food, a habit he couldn't shake since his childhood, so he rolls away from Eve to lie on his side instead. To placate her, he starts playing with the hair that grow low on her belly. "I collect the resurrected witches and show them around. You'll get a tour of Hell and any other realms you wish to see, and then I'll help you settle wherever you feel like."

With every word, the pout on her face only grows. 

"You're not keeping me?" she asks, playing up the whine in her voice, but he knows there are genuine feelings behind it. 

"Witches aren't meant to be tied down," he explains apologetically. "They're free spirits abusing the laws of reality." He reaches for her hand to press a kiss against her fingers. "It's a power best wielded in solitude."

She pries her hand away and sits up.

"Why would I want the power if I can't share it? Don't witches have like... familiars? Or something?"

Eddie frowns.

"A witch of your power doesn't need one. They're meant to amplify and aid spells, and you're pretty much on the same level as a common demon."

"Are you a common demon?"

"Yes," he nods. 

"So we can't make a deal?" she presses on. 

His frown deepens. 

"Why would you want a deal with someone equal in power? Deals are made between a master and a servant."

"But is it not possible? Can't I have an equal by my side? A partner in crime?"

Maybe he should backtrack on her being his favorite. She's asking too many questions, ones he's not used to from a freshly reborn witch. He sighs. 

"Technically you can, but it's an exclusive deal. You're tied for eternity, you belong to each other. It's not a common practice," he says, playing off what he's been told and overheard. "Master-servant contracts have an expiration date and are easier to break. I'm not sure a deal like that could even be broken."

Eve wraps her hands around her knees, processing the information. 

"So I could tie a demon, or an equally powerful being, to myself for all eternity?" 

Somehow, Eddie doesn't like the idea of Eve making a deal like that with a random demon. He nods, though.

"Yes."

"Let's say I'd want to do that with you, right now. How would that look?" she asks curiously. 

He thinks about it, imagines it, and it pains him deep into his core. 

"A simple deal is sealed with a kiss or a blood pact. A deal between equals requires an intercourse."

"Huh."

The idea doesn't seem appalling to her, which doesn't surprise him at this point. He can feel her eyes sliding down his body.

"You're not going to find my dick like that," he says with amusement. 

She huffs but doesn't budge, searching his gaze instead. 

"Wouldn't you want to make me yours? And you mine?"

Eddie considers it. 

"I never thought about it before," he admits. "Is that something you'd want?"

She lays back on the grass with a sigh. 

"I'm just tired of being alone. Of nobody staying. You're the nicest person I've met in years, and you're not even human." He laughs at that, and she turns towards him with a smile. "You burnt a village for me." She frowns. "Unless you do that for all the witches."

Eddie quickly shakes his head. Too quickly.

"Only the most mistreated ones," he admits. 

"Is it a pity thing, then?"

"No," he protests again. "I wanted to do something nice for you."

Eve smiles. 

"Thank you."

He smiles back, and when he leans down, she meets him for a lazy kiss. 

"Would you make me yours?" she asks when they part and the offer sounds alarmingly tempting. 

"You should meet other demons before making a commitment like that," he says, and she rolls her eyes. Then, his ears twitch as he finds the perfect distraction for them both. 

"You ready to hunt?" he smiles down at her, wide and dangerous. "Someone escaped the fire."

ko-fi

[the-travelling-witch]

summary: a pouty demon has become part of your nighttime routine

pairing: mammon x gn!reader

warnings: fluff with mentions of insecurities (skin/appearance related)

obey me! masterlist

“Babe, how much longer are ya goin’ to take?” Mammon whined from behind you, his pout reflecting in the large bathroom mirror.

“I’ve only just finished with cleansing.” Turning off the faucet, you gently dabbed a towel over your face, watching the demon with affectionate eyes. “But everything else shouldn’t take too long.”

“Why d’ya have to do all of this anyway?” Apparently not content with your answer, he stepped closer to you and cut himself off with a yawn. “Just come to bed.”

You’d think that, as a model, Mammon would understand the importance of skincare but, to your annoyance, he was one of those guys who seemingly splashed their face with water and still had the perfect complexion.

Could demons also be god’s favourites? One glance over his shirtless form definitely swayed your answer towards ‘yes’.

“No, this is important. Especially if you keep sitting me down for a bowl of spicy late-night ramen,” you sighed. By now, Mammon had closed the gap between the two of you, his arms comfortably circled around your waist and his cheek squished against the top of your head. “Besides, I finally want to be free of these blemishes and look good too.”

Immediately, Mammon stood straight and held you a little tighter. The angelic eyes looking at you through the mirror were earnest and genuine as he spoke with a bewildered tone, almost as if what you had said never occurred to him.

“But yer already so pretty! How could ya get any more stunnin’ than this?”

That was what you loved about him. Despite his usually tsundere behaviour, he never failed to compliment you with his entire heart behind it. Having someone so sincerely tell you you were beautiful, while you wore an old shirt of his as pyjama, had no makeup on and had your insecurities out in the open like this, it made you start believing it too.

A thought that was kinda terrifying.

But you had no time to go teary-eyed or worry about whether you were starting to become too conceited or delusional. Not with this demon around. Before you could say something, Mammon had already swooped down, snowy hair obscuring part of your vision, and planted a sweet kiss onto your cheek. Both the surprise of his action and the visual of his face scrunched up in disgust as he tasted the toner on his lips made you laugh, shushing the voices in your head.

“That one’s on you, I already told you not to do that when I’m doing my routine,” you giggled. Then, you twisted in his hold and returned an equally affectionate kiss to his cheek. “Thank you so much though. Hearing that means a lot.”

“Don’t look at me like that! Just hurry up, so we can go to bed!” Though he averted his eyes, you could still feel the heat radiating off his face and you suppressed another laugh. He really was too cute for his own good.

Even though he’d complained a lot about the lengthiness of your little ritual, he still attentively watched you work, offering his concerns about the colour of a hot pink serum (“Should ya really be puttin’ that on yer face?”) and having his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when you casually mentioned one of your creams could bleach clothes or hair.

“Well, good thing your hair is already white and you’re already shirtless,” you joked as you finished putting on your moisturiser before turning and looping your arms around his neck. “Because I plan to cuddle you all-night long.”

“Ya’d better! Yer the only human who’d ever make me, the Avatar of Greed, wait, ya know,” Mammon huffed. Contradictory to his words, he had already swooped you up princess-style and set off towards the bedroom.

“Mhm and I am so glad you were generous enough to give me so much of your time. Maybe this,” you put a hand over his heart as he gently lowered you onto the mattress, “is made out of gold after all.”

“Now yer just bein’ cheesy,” Mammon snorted as he crawled under the black sheets with you and pulled you close, the same way a tide would always reach for the shore again and again. “Ya should get some rest before ya say somethin’ even more stupid.”

“But I was just about to confess to the best thing that ever happened to me,” you hummed. When he sceptically raised an eyebrow, you looked him deep in the eyes and smiled. “I love you, Mammon.”

For a fraction of a second his eyes widened in shock before he shut them tightly as he inhaled. When he opened them again, he mirrored your fond smile as a slender finger traced the side of your face.

“I love ya too, treasure.”

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[eldritch-spouse]

Any of your demon OC’s reaction to being summoned but the magic feels powerful so when they get there they expect maybe a collection of wizards but instead it is a very drunk person(reader) who seems very confused but also isn’t against having this very attractive demon in their house.

[I mean, at this rate you could just summon an Icon. But let's not go there yet. Why not Vorago?]

The difference between Vorago and many other demons is that, most of the time, he's ready to be summoned. As the firstborn of Queen Vorticia, he has to be available for a myriad of public contact and more nitty-gritty transactions that his Mother is all too happy to distribute between her many children. The eldest takes on even more work than necessary, purely to train himself for the future, wherein he may rule Gluttony.

So, when Vorago senses a rift opening with a request for him, the royal glutton merely brushes his outfit, adjusts his mane, and stands appropriately, waiting to be transported. It's no shock to him that a rather surprising amount of magic is used during these instances, you do not simply summon a royal without obtaining much training in the field, or on your own for that matter. While the process takes place, Vorago searches his head for who this might be. The blood signature utilized doesn't ring any bells, so it might be a first contact summoning. Giving a good impression is more important than ever if that truly is the case.

Vorago steps into the rift with an adequately serious expression and a hand behind his back, expecting some kind of fanfare or overzealous greeting.

There are few words to describe his confusion at the sight that greets him. Astonishing, really, as he considers himself verbose.

The prince finds himself in a rather homely, completely informal setting. Someone's house, he deduces, given the smells present, the well-worn furniture. No group, no organization, no sect, not even a pair is there to receive him, only one human.

He sniffs.

One very intoxicated human.

He can only wonder what's happening to you, where you hail from. How you've gotten to this point.

The glutton stares hard at you. Something that another summoner may find rude of him, but you're hardly composed enough to notice. There's no incredible, burning desire within you. You don't stink of desperation and madness, you aren't covered in sin.

You're just a human woman, meddling with what most definitely doesn't concern someone like you.

" ... O- " You finally seem to notice there's someone else in the room. " Oh? "

" Oh. " Vorago parrots, feeling a brand new crease form on his forehead.

Silent moments pass.

You really should blink more, he assumes your eyes are losing moisture from the moments where you stare at him blankly, like a donkey.

" I suppose, when you're sober, you'll gather the wits to grovel... "

Vorago isn't particularly cruel, but he'd be a bad example if he allowed summoners to think they can get away with this type of behavior. To summon a demon of royalty while entirely shitfaced is to cause great offense to said royal lineage. It can warrant more than death, it could set curses upon your loved ones. Vorago understands mistakes happen, but humans of all people, are too frail to afford these grievous acts of buffoonery.

So he needs to cause a healthy amount of panic in you, which he will, when you become sober.

" Hhmn? " You sluggishly tilt your head.

The firstborn takes a few steps forward on the borderline nonexistent circle you've thrown together on the ground. It's more of a misshapen oval, with not a tenth of the power you'd require to keep him properly contained. Really, Vorago could blow it away with a sigh.

He squats, using his hands to gesture and speaking slowly, the same tactics he'd use to make his toddler-aged siblings pay attention.

" Human. Listen closely. " No self-respecting prince would be stooping this low. " Now that you have made the mistake of summoning me, we need to establish a formal deal, so that I can leave. "

You don't offer much of a reaction for a while. Vorago sincerely wants to slap the back of your head. Though he imagines you'd tumble face first in a graceless display of alcoholism.

He can only tense hard when you spread your arms and latch onto his shoulders, running clumsy hands through his thick hair.

" Hahah... Hah. You're sooo cute. You should stick around. "

You're so fucking wasted.

The glutton is speechless, face darkening. He allows himself to feel this for a few seconds, ideas suddenly swirling in his head while an admittedly pretty human plays with his hair. The large demonoid shivers slightly. You'd look even better if you weren't so visibly drunk. For as much as he craves and writes about this type of contact between monster (demon) and human, he's never had the pleasure of experiencing it firsthand.

A small eternity passes before he forces himself to pry your small -Delicate, so fragile, so soft- hands away and rises.

" Any suggestions, summoner? " His tail swishes.

A grin tries to settle on your cheeks, it's struggling. " You. Me. The couch. "

Vorago has to run a hand down his complexion and breathe in deep. Oh trust him, that couch wouldn't survive. Still, this is no way to try his hand at charming a beautiful person.

" No. " He chastises. " I have a proposal. Do you read, human? "

This could backfire very hard. He knows this.

" Ehh, yeah, I guess. " You shrug. " Sometimes. When my favorite authors upload. "

Upload. The top eye in Vorago's head widens, his hope shining clearly.

" Then let's do the following. I provide you with written works, and, in turn, you act as a proof-reader, letting me know what I could adjust. "

Particularly how accurate his portrayal of humans and the opposite gender is.

" You write?! "

He almost feels offended that you're so surprised. " Yes. "

" Fuck yeah! "

He chuckles purely from how ridiculous this is getting.

Vorago nods, using a foot to disrupt the summoning circle and leaning down with an outstretched hand, the other reaching for a vial on his coat pocket.

" Brilliant. Allow me to collect your blood signature then. " Because you're too shitfaced to sign anything, he presumes. " You will be contacted so we can schedule our first meeting. "

Well, he thinks happily, no one can accuse him of having no references now.

[another-lost-mc]

When MC Dies and is Reborn in the Celestial Realm Headcanons | THE DEMON BROTHERS 1.6k words | SFW | gn!Reader | Angst with a Happy Ending Content warnings: Implied Lucifer x Reader. Michael-centric POV. Mentions of (temporary) character death and grieving/mourning. A/N: This is an old piece that's been sitting in my Google docs for months. Without going into spoilers, playing Nightbringer last night reminded me of this.

DEATH

The demon brothers are in the RAD student council chambers when they sense something is wrong.

They visibly flinch and some of them gasp as a sudden emptiness washes over them.

Asmo is the first to notice that your pact mark on the inside of his wrist starts to fade.

The other brothers are frantic and start to palm over their clothes where your pact marks with them should be, realizing theirs are disappearing too.

Lucifer’s eyes go wide with realization at the same moment his D.D.D. starts ringing with an incoming call from Solomon.

Barbatos senses the seriousness of the situation and is already conjuring a portal to Solomon’s location.

Lucifer is the first one to step through, with his brothers stumbling behind him.

They arrive in the human world and see Solomon leaning forward in a chair in a bright, sterile hallway, his head down and hair falling over his eyes. His D.D.D. is still clenched in his hands.

Solomon looks up with tears in his eyes and he whispers in a strangled voice, “I’m so sorry.”

Diavolo and Barbatos have to intervene before the power caused by the brothers’ overwhelming grief threatens to rip the human hospital apart.

The demon brothers don’t attend your funeral, but those responsible for carrying out your final wishes are surprised that all the expenses have been anonymously paid for. 

Solomon and the Angels watch nearby as your human friends and family circle your grave and pay their respects.

Simeon tried to prevent Luke from going with him, but he was forced to bring him after Luke begged Michael personally to let him say goodbye.

Simeon has to carry a sobbing Luke away when it’s time for them to leave, but Solomon stands by your graveside as the sun sets.

After night falls, the demon brothers materialize behind him and he teleports away so they can have privacy.

The demon brothers stand like fractured shadows around your final resting place, frozen and eerily silent, and they slowly return to the Devildom one by one. Lucifer is the last to leave, just before dawn.

REBIRTH

Michael recognizes your soul the moment you’re reborn in the Celestial Realm as an angel nearly 10 years later.

You’re not an angel youngling like Luke; your body is eerily similar to your human form without the demon pact marks or the Sorcerer’s Society sigils etched into your skin.

He is alone with you and you look at him with uncertainty - you should be an empty shell, reborn with no memory or purpose except the Celestial Realm’s calling.

Curiosity prompts him to ask you your name, and you respond with the human name from your former life.

He realizes anything you do as an angel from this point forward will be tainted by the remnants of your former existence.

Michael takes a lot of risks as he bends and twists the limits of his power to allow you certain freedoms while he deliberates the best course of action.

You ask him oddly specific questions about the human world and the Devildom that a newborn angel shouldn’t be asking; you haven’t regained your entire memory, but he suspects it’s only a matter of time.

He promises himself that he will not lie to you even when you start asking more difficult questions, but he expects that will be easier said than done.

Your knowledge is lacking when it comes to the inner working and responsibilities of the Celestial Realm and he decides to tutor you personally.

He also makes a point to keep you separate from the other angels as much as possible, especially your former exchange student companions.

Simeon starts to suspect Michael is hiding something but he can’t figure out what.

Michael knows his threats don’t scare Simeon the way they do the other angels; he begs Simeon for his patience instead, which startles Simeon into reluctant agreement not to pry further into Michael’s noticeably withdrawn behaviour.

Michael finds you one night when you are thrashing in your sleep, and when he nudges your shoulder to wake you, you cling to him as you wail at the memory of your death.

After that night, the floodgates seem to burst and your other memories quickly return.

You pester Michael with endless questions about all the friends you left behind, specifically Lucifer and the other brothers.

Michael relents when you plead with him to tell you, even though he knows that it’s going to hurt you to learn the truth:

Your death triggered a lot of uncertainty and turmoil within the Devildom. Lucifer and his brothers became the worst versions of themselves as they struggled with their grief. Diavolo had to intervene with a firm hand to prevent them from completely undoing all the progress he made in uniting the three realms while you were alive.

Relations between the Devildom and the other realms became strained and uncertain.

Michael tells you that the exchange program had been suspended until recently, but the successful conclusion indicated that the Devildom had regained focus on continued peace and camaraderie with the Celestial Realm and human world.

You beg Michael to let you return to the Devildom, and he refuses.

You threaten to fall willingly if that’s what it takes, but he warns you that your circumstances are too volatile - he can’t predict what would happen to the ongoing stability of the three worlds if you should drift off this current path.

Despite his refusal to allow you to visit the Devildom, he sees how lost and broken you are.

He promises to come up with a way for you to eventually meet the demon brothers again.

You ask Michael if he thinks they still remember you, and he grudgingly admits that he thinks that they probably do.

RETURN

In an unlikely request, Diavolo receives a proposal from Michael that would allow a Celestial Realm representative to live in the Devildom on a long-term basis.

Diavolo tentatively agrees, seeing the olive branch for what it is and knowing Michael wouldn’t make that offer lightly.

The demon brothers (except for Lucifer) want to protest on principle, assuming the worst about Michael and they don’t hide their suspicions from Diavolo or their eldest brother.

Lucifer makes it his responsibility to bring his brothers in line so that Diavolo’s goals can be achieved, even though he is just as bothered by the idea as his brothers are.

Solomon is summoned to the Devildom, a rare occurrence these days. He agrees to Diavolo and Michael’s request to host their negotiations in the human world as a neutral party.

Diavolo insists the demon brothers attend as a sign of unity and good faith; they want to refuse, having avoided returning to the human world as much as possible since your passing, but finally concede after threats of punishment from Lucifer.

Michael feels overwhelming pity for his brothers when he sees them. He can see through their masks of indifference that your absence has haunted them, although he is surprised they truly cared about you that much.

As the meeting continues, Lucifer becomes increasingly annoyed by the sympathetic looks Michael gives him and his brothers from across the table.

When discussions are starting to wind down, Michael comments that you would be proud of the work the Devildom has achieved in your absence.

The unexpected mention of your name is like a trigger: Mammon pushes away from the table and paces behind his chair; Levi hugs his knees to his chest and buries his head; Asmo covers his mouth as he lets out a sob, eyes watering. Satan tries to rise from his seat with a growl, but Beel pushes him back down; and Belphie shoots him a murderous look.

Lucifer’s eyes narrow and he grits out that they wouldn’t dream of tarnishing your memory by failing to accomplish what you helped them work for.

Michael explains that he’s surprised an ordinary human could affect him this much.

Diavolo and Barbatos share a nervous look at the growing tension, and Solomon interrupts, proposing that they end the meeting for now.

Lucifer tells Michael to stop talking about things that he couldn’t possibly understand. He pulls out his D.D.D. and tells Diavolo that he and his brothers will be leaving if they’re no longer needed.

Michael asks him about the lizard charm swinging from his D.D.D., the plastic faded and worn down by time; he nods to himself when Lucifer’s only response is icy silence, like he expected nothing else.

Michael suggests that they take a moment to meet the proposed diplomat he’d like to assign to the Devildom, the sooner the better - he insists they’re very eager to begin their assignment.

Diavolo placates everyone by stating he trusts Michael’s judgement and meeting them now isn’t necessary.

Michael’s eyes twinkle with a strange mischief that Lucifer can’t explain.

After a moment, Lucifer hears the soft swish of feathers as someone materializes in an open doorway nearby.

He recognizes the familiar pair of eyes first, and they’re staring back at him with such so much longing and hope he can barely breathe .

Time seems to stand still for a moment as everyone in the room freezes with shared looks of disbelief, doubt, and shock.

When the spell is broken, it is with a flurry of activity: Lucifer moves first, launching himself across the room and pulling you into a tight embrace against his chest, your white feathers brushing against his black ones.

The other brothers quickly surround you, and you end up in a pile on the floor as the demons you missed so much whisper your name and touch your face as if they can't believe you've come back to them.

Barbatos and Solomon both watch in stunned silence, eager to know how these events unfolded but smart enough to know that those questions can wait for now.

Diavolo wipes a tear from his eye, chuckling happily as he and Michael stand and shake hands.

Michael watches with a mixture of envy and satisfaction when you return home with his fallen brothers.

[baelarys]

Hi! Could I request a Aemond X reader where he notices reader has not been sleeping well for days so he stays the night with reader for comfort?

𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙩 𝙢𝙚

Aemond targaryen x Reader

word count : 683

Warning : Fluff a lot of fluff

You tossed anxiously in your bed, trying to find comfort in the fine silk mattress, while the faint light of the candles illuminated your tired face. You heard Aemond enter your room; his steps were silent, but in your state of vigilance, you noticed him immediately. You sat up to look at him.

Aemond, noticing your presence, looked at you. "I thought you were asleep" he said, noting the small dark circles forming around your eyes.

You didn’t respond, exhaustion gnawing at you, but you weren’t even aware of the specific reason for your lack of sleep. He approached and sat on the edge of your bed, his violet eyes looking at you with concern. "I’ve noticed you haven’t slept well for days. What’s wrong?."

You sighed and lowered your gaze, playing with the edge of the blanket. "It’s nothing, just… worries" you said, trying to downplay it.

Aemond extended a hand and gently caressed your cheek. "You can’t keep going like this. You need to rest" his voice full of love and concern, warming your heart.

Before you could respond, he got up and moved to the other side of the bed, Taking off his greatcoat, and slipped under the sheets next to you. "I’m going to stay with you tonight" he declared firmly. "Maybe my presence will help you relax."

You stayed silent for a moment, surprised by his gesture. Finally, you nodded and settled beside him. Aemond wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "It’s okay" he murmured against your hair. "I’m here with you."

Aemond adjusted the sheet over both of you and pulled you closer, his warmth radiating a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a long time. Slowly, your eyes closed, and you allowed yourself to relax in his presence. You didn’t want to talk about your worries; you just wanted to enjoy this moment of peace.

Aemond seemed to understand, as he didn’t ask any questions. Instead, he started to stroke your back with slow, gentle movements, his deep and rhythmic breathing a natural soothing agent.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable; it was a silence full of understanding and support. You nestled closer to him, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms, protected and loved. Aemond looked down and smiled, his eyes reflecting deep affection.

"Are you feeling better?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper in the darkness of the room. You nodded slightly, without opening your eyes. You didn’t need to say anything; he understood. The connection between you was something beyond words, a symphony of shared emotions.

"I’m sorry" you finally whispered, breaking the silence. "For worrying so much." His fingers paused for a moment on your back before resuming their slow and calming rhythm.

"You don’t have to apologize" he replied softly, his voice a caress in your ears. "We all have our burdens. I’m here to help you carry them."

Aemond’s words were like a balm to your restless soul. You knew he also had his own demons, but at this moment, you only cared about the tranquility he offered. You felt a solitary tear slide down your cheek, and before you could wipe it away, he had already captured it with a gentle kiss.

"Everything will be alright" he promised, his warm breath against your skin. "As long as we’re together, we can overcome anything."

His words filled you with renewed hope. In the past, you had faced many difficulties, but having Aemond by your side gave you the strength you needed to keep going. You snuggled even closer, letting the beat of his heart lull you.

Minutes, maybe hours, passed in that silent embrace. Time seemed to stop when you were with him. Finally, you felt his lips press gently against your forehead, a gesture of love and protection.

"Sleep, my love" he whispered. "Tomorrow will be a new day."

You obeyed, letting sleep take you. Your dreams were peaceful, filled with images of happier days and promises of a better future. Aemond was always by your side, his presence an anchor in the sea of your thoughts.

[heavenlyakin]

Burning For You

warnings: Fem!Reader is a mortician for the Demon Slayer Corps, loosely canon-compliant, pajamas mentioned are traditional jinbei so they’re time-accurate (I do the weirdest research for these fics sue me), BLOOD, fingering (f!receiving), reader calls kyo daddy, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, reader rides kyo, and other general smut warnings, creampie. Minors DNI. (also not edited so forgive me or correct me hehe)

wc: 1.4k

–

You’re reading in your bed, a candle used for light rather than the lamp beside it. It’s softer, making it easier for you to get tired while you read and try to keep your mind off anything but him. 

Everything you’re feeling tonight is the exact reason why you didn’t want to involve yourself with a corp member, let alone the Flame Hashira. His life is not his own, nor is it yours. He is devoted to the Demon Slayer Corps and always will be until he meets an untimely end or ages too far to fight. Even then, he wouldn’t step away, you know this about him. 

It’s something you’ve struggled to come to terms with, but it’s not like you can ask him to step down. It would go against everything he believes in and you don’t think you could forgive yourself if he actually did it. So you cope, the best you can while he’s gone on a mission. 

Every noise outside your house drags you away from the words on the page, but you insist on keeping it open and in your hands. It will at least make time pass faster. The clock on the wall ticks away, just as slowly as usual. Your eyes dart to it every few minutes, despite your best efforts. 

An hour passes and you feel your eyes getting heavy, your book falling on your chest, crinkling the pages you were on. Just as you feel the haze of sleep upon you, a crashing sound jolts you awake. 

Kyo stands in the doorway, blood dripping from a gash on his chest, his clothes torn around it soaked in blood. The smile on his face contrasts the way he must feel, absolutely wrecked. You throw the covers off you, getting ready to jump from the bed when he raises his hand. 

“-----,” his voice is hoarse as if he’s been yelling. 

The mission he’d been sent on wasn’t supposed to end this way. He’d only been asked to inspect a village of some rogue demon sightings, but no one had gone missing or been killed. There was much debate about whether wasting the time of a Hashira was even worth this. 

Whatever had happened, must have been brutal if Kyojuro was this cut up. Luckily, they sent him instead of another member of lower rank. 

“What happened?” You ask, sitting up as he drops his swords by the bedroom door and sheds his haori and then his uniform. 

“Shhh,” he hushes you, his palm caressing your cheek. “I’m okay.” 

“You’re bleeding,” you plead but his lips meet yours before you can say more. 

His lips are rough, moving against yours with the force of missing you. You grab his shoulders, holding yourself close to him. You feel him shudder as your pajamas rub against the cut on his chest. You try pulling away, but he grabs you and pulls you tighter against him. 

“I didn’t say it hurt,” he tells you against your lips, his forehead against yours. 

You nod gently as his hand reaches for the bow you’ve tied your top together with. It falls open, revealing your breasts to him. You gasp as he cups one in his hand, biting your neck before licking over it. His tongue is hot on your chilled skin, making you arch into him for more warmth. 

His fingers pinch your nipple, dragging a groan from your lips. Gently, he lays you down, crawling over you and kissing down your collarbone. Blood drips from his chest onto your stomach, the warm droplets igniting something in you you’ve never felt before. You try and push it away, but each one makes you burn hotter. 

His tongue circles your right nipple, his right hand caressing the other breast. You moan, closing your eyes and arching your breast, pushing more of your breast into his mouth. He sucks gently, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud. Your nails dig into his skin as he does, making him smile against your skin. 

“I’ve been thinking about this my entire journey back to you.” He tells you, looking up at you as his hand wanders between your bottoms. “What you would do when you saw me? How you would sound when I did this,” his fingers slip between your lips, finding your clit and slowly rubbing circles. 

Your breath catches in your throat, making you sound out a loud gasp. 

“Just like that, actually,” he answers himself as he slips a finger inside of you. “You’re even wetter than I imagined.” 

You smile, letting him finger you as he pleases and enjoying every fluid movement of his fingers in you. He knows your body better than you do at this point, so why would you ever ask for more? He will give you exactly what you need. 

“D-daddy,” you moan, the word slipping from your lips earlier than you usually would have allowed it. 

“That’s it,” he grins, kissing your cheeks. “Are you gonna cum for me?” 

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you feel that burning between your thighs. He kisses you, his tongue slipping between your lips and past your teeth as he devours you. His fingers curl inside of you, and you come undone beneath him. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises against your lips as you cum, your thighs squeezing together around his hand. 

You open your eyes to see his, a smile on his face. His eyes glow with pride and admiration, something you’ve come to crave every time you’re with him. You pull his face down to yours, kissing him forcefully as you use your hands to push him down on the bed on his back. 

As you slip your pants off, you notice you and him are both sticky with his blood, but he’ll be fine for the next few minutes at least. You straddle him after pulling his underwear off his body. He’s hard against you as you grind on his cock, letting your slickness coat him. 

He moans as he grabs your hips, letting you maintain control for now. You know it won’t last, but for now, it’s all you want. Guiding his cock inside you, you sit down on him, moaning at the fullness of him inside of you. 

“Fuck,” he curses, his eyes rolling back before he closes them and thrusts up into you. 

You take this as a good sign to start moving up and down on him. Leaning forward, you place your hands on either side of his head, watching his face contour with pleasure as you slowly ride him. His fingers dig into your hips, but you don’t mind. The bruises are always sweet reminders of the times spent with him. 

Part of you wonders if that’s all you’ll have of him one day, but you push that away. 

He starts to guide you, thrusting to meet each movement you make as you come down on him. Your breathing becomes heavy and you feel yourself coming close again, but you don’t want to cum too soon. You want him to cum first. 

“God,” he groans. “You feel amazing, baby.” 

“So good, daddy,” you moan, kissing him after. 

He grins against your lips as he thrusts harder into you from below. You gasp and he bites your bottom lip, eager to pull more and more noises out of you. It works, every time. You give him what he wants and he gives you what you need. 

“Need you to fill me up,” you moan against his lips between breaths. “Want to be so full of you.” 

His grin is all you need to know he’s going to do just that. He cums, a loud groan coming with it. You hold onto him and kiss him through it, letting yourself cum with him and clench around his cock. 

He pulls you off of him, and you lay beside him. Laying quietly you listen to the sound of his steady breathing. It’s become the most comforting sound you are familiar with. That, and his heartbeat. 

His eyes start to close, so you shake him. “No way are you sleeping before I clean you up.” 

“Baby,” he whines. 

“Infection,” you warn. “You need stitches.” 

“Only after I’ve covered us both in blood and made you cum a few times do you actually care about my injuries.” He grins, sitting up and teasing you. 

You shrug, “A girl has her needs. Besides, you started this.” 

He kisses your cheek before you get up to go search for your medical supplies in the bathroom.

[devildomcuties]

Golden ││ Levi ││

thank you for sending in this request :)

pairing: levi x f. reader

genre: established relationship, smut 18+

summary: Mammon poured all of the Golden Hellfire Newt Syrup into the soup, and now Levi wants you to stay as far away from him as possible. Do you listen? Of course not!

wc: 2.3k

warnings: spoilers ahead! ch. 21-ch. 22, dialogue from the OG game to set the scene, also yes, the banner has honey but I couldn't find gold syrup, insecurity (levi), levi is somewhat still under the influence of the syrup, making out, grinding, handjob, oral sex, hickeys, jealousy, cock slapping, degradation, demon!levi, facial, cum eating, levi uses his tail to keep your hands together

date: August 16, 2024

“Listen, love… Whatever you do, stay away from my room!” Levi explains, his cheeks flushing pink. “You got that?! Stay away!”

Levi’s words circle your mind as you leave Asmo’s bedroom after being interrupted by Lucifer. When did you become a delivery person for the House of Lamentation anyway?

Lucifer takes his leave after walking you to Levi’s bedroom, and you focus on Levi’s secret phrase, getting it correctly on the first try. After some praise from the third eldest, he allows you to enter his bedroom.

Levi stands nervously in front of you, his hands tucked in his pants pockets, eyes wide as he exclaims, “Ah, but wait! Stop right there!”

You come to a stop, surprised at the volume of his voice as the door shuts behind you, automatically locking to keep his brothers out.

“Don’t move! Not another step!” Levi shouts, covering his blushing face with his hand. Oh, no what was he going to do with you so close? Your sweet scent was already making his head spin, and the thoughts that ran through his head were anything but innocent.

“What if the Gold Hellfire Newt Syrup kicks in, huh? Wh-What then?” he stutters, cheeks aflame. He’s so nervous, so embarrassed, and blurts, “Like, I might lose control of myself and just… make a move on you!”

You’re silent as you approach him, wanting to ease his worries but he places his hand over his cheeks briefly, trying to hide his embarrassment. 

“Listen to me. Don’t come any closer, okay? No closer!” He warns as you set the package from Akuzon aside and take a few more steps toward him. You should listen to him, or perhaps leave but your first instinct is to offer comfort. You’ve been away from him for so long. You missed him dearly, and you just want to make everything better.

“What if I s-start acting like Asmo, all l-lewd and taken over by lust and…” Levi shakes his head furiously. The idea of acting like the Avatar of Lust makes his heart race. He would never be able to deal with the absolute humiliation it would cause when he comes to his senses.

“Aaaaaaah! I don’t even want to think about it!” Levi seems to go through all seven stages of grief as you remain silent in front of him. You want to reach out to him but you’re afraid it may make things worse.

Perhaps you should heed his advice and head to your bedroom.

“I trust you, Levi,” you tell him sincerely when he finally settles long enough for you to get a word in. 

“Love, I know you’re probably just saying that to make me feel better. Still, even if you don’t really mean it, I appreciate it.” Levi nods solemnly. “I sort of don’t trust myself right now…”

You give Levi space as he paces back and forth in his bedroom. Everyone has been affected by the syrup so differently but Levi seems to be most flustered by it. Perhaps since he knew from the start what it could do, what it meant for you.

“I mean, it’s not like you came back here to see me. Pfft, as if! Why would someone be interested in some otaku who hides in his room all day? You probably think I’m gross!” Levi rants as he tugs at his hair, and your heart sinks. 

You hated that he talked so negatively about himself, especially when you loved him so, just as he was. If only he could see himself like you saw him; if he knew that your love was true, that it was pure.

There would be battles Levi would have to face himself, like his self-image and insecurities, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t stand beside him through it all. You wanted to ease his worries and know that he was who you wanted and loved with all your heart.

“You should know, I actually missed you!” You state truthfully. You spent a lot of your time thinking about him, wondering if he was getting enough sleep, and having his meals, and hoping Mammon would ease off him a bit.

“As if you’d actually miss seeing me, pfft!” Levi immediately retorts with a snort. However before you can assure him, he crosses the distance between you, throwing his arms around you. Finally!

He apologizes, pink cheeks warm under the palms of your hands as you cup his face. 

“It’s like my body’s moving on its own…” he whispers confused. “Oh, no. Oh, no. This isn’t like me! Love, give me an order!”

You’re startled by his volume, panic clear in his tone as he tries to hold back his urges. 

“It doesn’t matter what it is!” He shouts. “Just tell me to do something, quick!” 

“Kiss me,” you order feeling bashful. 

“Why couldn’t you have made it something easier?!” Levi whines as his cheeks burn hotter under your hands. “Okay, here goes…”

Levi kisses you softly, shyly at first.

“Now suddenly all I want to do is keep going and move on to more high-level stuff…!” Levi admits, his ears now burning red. “I’ve been missing you ever since you left, you know? Every single day…”

You hold his hands in yours, admitting that you missed him as well.

“I have to make up for all of that time. And since you’re the one who ordered me to kiss you…” Levi kisses you again, taking your lead as you guide his hands to your waist. His hands shake as he grabs hold of you, moaning when your tongue slips past the seam of his lips.

“Love,” he moans as he steps back, feeling the syrup’s effects wear off somewhat. He wipes his brow, panting heavily. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack…”

You giggle, pulling him closer to you. He trips but grabs hold of your hips to steady himself. 

You moan at the rough touch, kissing him before he can stutter an apology. You’ve missed him dearly and you wanted to spend time with him, everyone else be damned. 

When the two of you pet for a much-needed breath, you shut off your DDD and his, wanting no interruptions when you devour him whole. 

“Fuck,” you curse as his hands slide under your shirt, moving upwards slowly to cup your breasts over your bra. 

You press your lips to him, nipping his bottom lip as his fingers tremble when they reach the hooks of your bra. He struggles for a moment to undo them, but he does so with ease. 

“I-I’ve been practicing,” he admits with rose-tinted cheeks. “I wanted to be better for your return.”

“With who?” you raise a brow, jealousy growing inside you.

“N-no one! I-I swear!” Levi quickly responds, stuttering as cold sweat beads on his forehead. His cheeks turn bright red as he points to his desk. On the flat surface, three little bra extenders sit connected by the hooks.

You giggle as your jealousy dissipates. You coo at Levi, kissing him to ease his embarrassment. It takes him a moment to relax, his heart racing as you deepen the kiss.

Levi normally allows you to take the lead, but he’s missed you so much, and remnants of the syrup still linger in his body. Perhaps that's the bit of courage he needs to tug you towards him, his hands moving from your hips down to your ass.

“Levi,” his name escapes you in a sweet moan that makes his cock throb. He silences you with his lips, squeezing your ass before he leads you to the bathtub.

It's large enough to fit the two of you comfortably. 

You waste no time straddling him, your hands grip his hair to give it a firm tug. Your name rolls off his tongue in a wanton moan that makes you pulsate.

Levi nips your bottom lip as his hands move to your shirt, tugging on it until you raise your arms over your head. He takes it off you and tosses it somewhere in his bedroom.

Slowly, Levi kisses his way down to your neck, biting and sucking to leave his mark behind. He groans when your fingers weave through his hair, gently tugging as his face settles between your breasts. 

Levi’s tongue is hot against your skin as he licks one breast and then the other. 

“I-I’ve missed you so much,” he stutters with a tiny smile before he takes one pert nipple into his mouth. His nails drag down your sides, his hips rising to meet yours as you unbutton your pants.

“Levi,” you breathe as you hold him to your chest, rolling your hips against his. Levi curses, his demon form threatening to come out if things continue to heat up. You’d think he’d have better control over it by now.

Your hands make quick work of his clothes before you strip down to your panties. The two of you pant as you look at each other; cheeks flush, and bashful smiles.

“Lie down,” You demand as you push Levi down by his broad shoulders. He was ripped, something that made you drool. 

Levi eyes you shyly as you kiss him again, moaning softly before you trail kisses down his chest. Your tongue runs over his abs, leaving little marks on his skin as you palm his cock over his boxers.

“Fuck, baby,” Levi groans as his eyes flutter shut, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him as you tug his boxers down his thighs.

Levi covers his mouth with his hand.  Your eyes sparkle when you see his thick cock. You wrap your hand around him, spitting on the head.

Levi’s sure he’s going to bust before you even get his dick in your pretty little mouth.

A surge of confidence fills him for a moment, encouraged by the hungry look in your eye. Levi wraps his hand around his cock, spreading your spit up and down his length. Your eyes follow his movements closely, nearly drooling as you move your face closer to it.

You ignore the slight ache on your knees as you press your hands to your thighs, feeling your panties grow wetter by the second.

Levi presses the head of his cock to your lips. You kiss it, swirling your tongue around it after. Chuckling, Levi shakes his head.

“Show me your tongue,” he commands, and you do so eagerly. Levi praises you, smacking his cock on your tongue a few times before rewarding you with his length.

You suck his dick, flicking your tongue on the underside before teasing the slit. Levi curses. His eyes squeeze shut as you take him further into your mouth, only pulling off when you gag and gasp for breath.

Levi watches as you lick up one side of his cock and down the other, rolling his balls in your hand before moving downward and taking them in your mouth.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he groans as you bob up and down on his length. He hits the back of your throat and sees stars. 

You don’t ease up, sucking, slurping, kissing, licking as he threads his fingers in your hair. Levi is filled with pleasure, feeling euphoric as you choke on his cock like the little slut you are. 

You have one hand rubbing between your legs, and the other grips Levi’s thigh to support yourself as you continue to suck his cock and balls. He’s a mess of salvia and precum but you seem unbothered as you pop off him to catch a breath.

Levi strokes your hair with one hand. The other he uses to slap his cock on your cheek until you open your mouth to welcome him in once more.

“Just like that, baby. You look so cute sucking my fat cock,” he smirks as his body grows hotter, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as you choke on him once more.

Levi moans your name, warning you that he’s about to cum but you continue to suck him off, ignoring the ache in your jaw.

You take him deep in your mouth, your nose pressed to his pelvis as you meet his gaze. You feel something wrap around your calf, realizing Levi has released his demon form as he loses control of himself. His tail is wrapped around you, needing to feel you close as you swallow around him, causing him to nearly growl before he pulls out of your mouth.

“You’re mine,” he grunts as he strokes his cock. You nod, agreeing wholeheartedly as you feel the warmth of his release land on your cheek, lips, and chin.

Levi groans as he finishes, milking every last drop of cum from his cock. 

You giggle as you stare up at him.

Levi kisses you, tasting himself on your lips and tongue.

“Let’s take care of you, okay?” he asks as he uses two fingers to swipe the cum off your cheek, pressing it to your lips. You welcome his fingers into your mouth eagerly, licking and sucking them clean as he smirks.

“Can’t help yourself, huh? Such a cum-hungry slut,” Levi chuckles before he kisses you again. You tug his bottom lip, making him whine before you release him.

Levi licks the cum off your chin, giggling at the surprised look that crosses your face.

Without another word, Levi has you underneath him in the tub. Your hands are pinned in front of you, held together by his tail before he settles between your legs, placing each one on his shoulders.

“Levi!” you exclaim when he tugs you towards him, his tongue running up your wet folds.

“You’ve had your fun, love. Now it’s my turn,” Levi grins as he licks his lips, tasting you on them. You’re excited to see this side of Levi, though you’re not sure how much of a role the Golden Hellfire Newt Syrup will play in your relationship in the future, you’d enjoy Levi’s confidence while it lasts.

Who knows, perhaps you’d venture into it again.

© devildomcuties - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms.

[pastel0rchid]

A Gift from the Gods (5)

Hiccup x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: None that I can think of

Previous Chapter .~.~. Next Chapter

“Can you stretch your left wing a bit more?”

The voice belonged to Hiccup, who stood behind you while drawing in a sketchbook. Following his directions silently, you lift your left wing as prompted while your gaze remains on the wall ahead of you. It had been four days since you’d been taken to Dragon’s Edge and decided to stay as long as the dragon riders would let you.

The first two days were rough in terms of getting accustomed to being around other people after years of being surrounded only by dragons. You mainly stuck by Hiccup’s side, finding his presence the most comforting of the dragon riders. It also helped that Toothless seemed to be growing fond of you.

The others were still curious about you and your existence, except for Astrid, who remained cautious since your arrival. She never talked to you besides a few words here and there, sticking to watching you from the sidelines as if expecting an attack from you at any second.

You understood where her feelings were coming from. This group was her pack. You’ve seen dragons kill others to protect their pack when they felt it was being threatened.

Snotlout and the twins were still an enigma to you, especially the twins. Snotlout was loud and crass, saying words that made your stomach churn uncomfortably and your heckles rise. The twins were a mystery, always showing up when you least expected them and causing your fight or flight to kick in. You’ve accidentally hit Tuffnut with your wings a few times out of shock. He seemed to weirdly like the pain.

Besides Hiccup, Fishlegs was one that you were slowly growing accustomed to. While touring the island, he realized you didn’t know the names of dragon species when he heard you call a wild monstrous nightmare a ‘Flame.’ He decided then and there that he would teach you these things from something called “The Book of Dragons.” His teachings started a day ago.

Now, here you stood outside Hiccup’s hut, wings spread and standing still as Hiccup drew you in his sketchbook with surprising accuracy. Toothless lay off to the side, beginning to doze off as he watched the movements of his rider.

He circles around you, getting a viewpoint of your wings from all angles, soon stopping behind you. While keeping your gaze on the wall, the silence of the room is occasionally interrupted by Hiccup’s muttering or the sound of charcoal against the paper.

Your heart thunders in your chest as you can feel Hiccup’s presence behind you, his eyes observing every detail of your wings as if he didn’t want to miss a single one. Your body tenses when Hiccup suddenly steps closer to you from behind, mumbling even more to himself as if he didn’t realize what he had done.

The skin on the back of your neck raises in goosebumps as you feel his breath dance across it.

“Incredible.” Hiccup mutters to himself as he observes your wings, and your stomach can’t help but flutter with pride at his words. He thought your wings were incredible. Hiccup sketches silently for a few more minutes, focused so intently on getting every detail right that he didn’t notice how he was leaning ever so closer.

An unknown feeling blooms in your chest as you can feel him get closer, but your gaze stays directed to the wall, afraid that even moving an inch would pop the atmospheric bubble you had found yourself in.

You were always told to protect yourself from people who weren’t in your clan. You were told they saw your people as monsters, demons that needed to be slain. This was proved by the slaughtering of your family. So much bloodshed and loss because of the wings bestowed upon them by the Gods themselves.

You knew the dangers of people. That’s why you lived in a secluded forest surrounded only by dragons for years upon years.

Hiccup shattered that belief in only a few days… and you let him.

Your muddled thoughts were sharply interrupted by the feeling of fingers grazing softly over your wings. The touch is so featherlight that you wouldn’t have felt it without the years of learning to hone in on your senses during your time in the forest. Your body reacts before you can even think, turning quickly to face Hiccup and barely managing to fold your wings back so they wouldn’t smack him.

The pink welt on his cheek that you gave him was just starting to heal. It would’ve been a shame to give him another one.

Toothless perks his head up, torn out of his dazed state into an alert one at how swiftly you had moved.

Hiccup’s green eyes were wide with shock as he stared down at you, his hand still slightly outstretched to where your wing previously was. Your eyes stare back, torn between a harsh glare for suddenly touching you and a silent plea for more. That last part scared you more than anything. Your senses were becoming overwhelmed too quickly once again, and you wanted nothing more than to flee.

Noticing this, Hiccup scrambles to find a way to fix his mistake and hopefully calm your nerves.

“Flight!”

His sudden shout causes your body to flinch, but you do freeze, his loud voice stunning you into place. Hiccup quickly clears his throat, having not expected his voice to come out that loud in his desperate search for a way to shift the tension. His hand gestures to Toothless, who stares at Hiccup with a confused look from his shouting.

“Let’s… Let’s go for a flight.”

The words come out quickly but are in a softer tone than the one before. You gaze between Hiccup and Toothless, the dragon just as confused as you were, but his words do calm your nerves. Even just a little bit.

It had been a while since you’d been flying, sticking mainly to the ground while taking in your new surroundings. Looking back at Hiccup, you give him a slight nod in response to his suggestion. It was about time you spread your wings anyway.

—

The wind surrounds your body as you soar through the sky, your wings spread behind you and occasionally flapping to keep you upright. To your left, Toothless does the same with Hiccup perched upon his back.

The flight was silent between the two of you. Your gaze mainly focused ahead, and you managed to miss Hiccup stealing glances your way. Your eyes slowly close at the feeling of the wind on your face, a relaxed look overcoming your features as you fly beside Toothless.

This was where you belonged. High above the clouds without a care in the world.

Hiccup watches you as you fly with your eyes closed, observing how tranquil you look. A sudden smack from Toothless’ ear fin brings the teen back to his senses, glaring down silently towards the dragon, who looks back at him with a smug look.

“Not a word.” He mumbles to Toothless before looking back toward you, freezing when you are nowhere in sight. His head whips around, his eyes looking over the tops of the clouds as he tries to find where you have gone. A shout of excitement cuts through the air, causing him to look up towards the source of the sound, and a small smile invades his lips at what he finds.

You had flown a bit higher before outstretching your arms and letting your body freefall. Your body whizzes past Toothless, who watches you curiously as you soon disappear back under the clouds.

Without much thinking, Hiccup gently pats the side of Toothless’ neck, the dragon giving a confused sound at his action, which quickly turns into a roar when Hiccup jumps off of Toothless’ back towards you.

Your eyes had barely fluttered open before they widened in shock at Hiccup freefalling beside you. Fear courses through your veins at the sight, but Hiccup gives you an ever-widening grin. Before you can process it, Hiccup shoves his hands into something attached to his legs and spreads his arms.

A laugh of shock leaves your lips at the sight as you spread your wings to slow your falling into a glide. Hiccup had some type of fabric attached from his wrists to his legs, and his own body had lurched to a glide beside your own. Remaining with your back to the ground, Hiccup maneuvered his body to glide above you, his eyes sparkling in excitement as your smile slowly began to match his own.

With seconds feeling like hours, your eyes remain locked as you both glide together below the clouds.

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