#creek demon au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sungbeam · 6 months ago

Text

𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

demon!ji changmin x reader (no pronouns used, but original fic was f!reader)

love. — what is love if not your steady heartbeat in his ear when he thinks you should be afraid?

4.7k words, established relationship, demon/supernatural creatures au, mild angst, very minor humor, bit of fluff?, mentions of blood, so much intimacy (skinship, cheek/stomach kisses), mentions of insecurities, swearing, use of pet names (love, sweetheart)

read night terrors / peruse the collection post

a/n: this lowkey just became a character study of demon changmin

THERE WEREN'T MANY INSTANCES where you were afraid for Changmin, nor were there many instances where you were afraid of him. You suspected that he strived to avoid either of said instances, especially regarding the latter. After all the two of you had experienced with one another, it seemed important to him that you could trust him and were not scared.

It was difficult for him to fully accept that he did not frighten you in some way. Part of that reason, you guessed, was simply his awareness of how others viewed his species.

What was he but a mortal's night terror, a creature of evil?

To him, you should have been sleeping with a stake beneath your pillow—or rather, you shouldn't have had enough trust to sleep next to him at all.

But several months under your relationship's belt was beginning to ease his concerns. The long drives up and down the state, chasing his strange assignments for work, had slowly become something he could look forward to. Sunshine or rain battering the windows, he would glance away from the dense fog outside to see you holding on desperately to the waking world, or feel your fingers curl around his hand when sleep stole you away.

Most of the time, it wasn't too dangerous and you didn't mind tagging along with him. You'd grown used to the nomad lifestyle, seemingly content with spending a couple weeks in Moonstone Creek from time to time, and the rest of it with him.

You loved him; you always made that clear. The ring on your right ring finger was proof that he knew that and reciprocated.

There were always, however, doubts. Changmin always had doubts.

“—And I'll get that blueberry muffin creamer you liked yesterday, too.”

Changmin broke out of the bubble he'd trapped himself in at the sensation of your lips against his cheek. This mortal body he had flushed at the feeling, his hand swift to stop you from leaving just yet, like an instinct.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, and his face was level with your stomach from the chair he sat in. The hotels you usually stayed at on your routes always came with a desk and chair, so you could work on Moonstone Creek's finances or he could research. He pressed a kiss to your clothed stomach, his hand squeezing your waist affectionately. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Your smiling eyes met his and you combed your hand through his hair once, twice. “I'll be back soon. You just keep your head in those books.”

He grumbled something against your stomach—‘I thought college was the last time I'd be pouring over texts’—and your laugh twinkled over his head. He hadn't even been paying attention to the texts he brought; really, his head was elsewhere today.

“That's your fault for being an anthropology major and for literally chasing down ancient artifacts as your main source of income.”

“That was so unhelpful.”

Another comb through his hair. He could melt. “Just being honest,” you sang amusedly. “Okay, but I should get a move on. All their pastries are gonna be gone, and their danishes smelled really good yesterday.”

He hummed. “Stay safe.” Another kiss.

Your hand settled at the nape of his neck. “I will. Love you.”

The words warmed in his chest. Just as you were pulling away, his grip tightened for a moment. “You have Clyde?” He couldn't let anything happen to you.

“Yes—” you patted your jacket pocket, “—Clyde’s where he's always been. And Bonnie?”

“You know she's not moving,” he said, cocking a brow at you.

You bit your lip through a small laugh and slowly moved toward the hotel room door, shoving your wallet and the room key into your pockets. “Okay. Happy reading then, love.”

“Unhappy reading,” he groaned into his hand, which was followed by your laugh and the door closing behind you. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile.

He counted a few seconds in case you had forgotten something, then went over to grab his phone from the nightstand. Settling on the edge of the bed, he pulled up the text thread he had between himself and Sangyeon.

sangyeon: okay so don't freak out [sent an image]

sangyeon: but i found this lying around my house the other day, and i asked lily abt it and she said yn was on the fence abt showing u

Changmin could recognize your handwriting against Lily's in the picture. The image was a clear scan of a piece of paper, who's centerpiece was that of a house. It was a roughly drawn blueprint of a cottage, something small, cozy, homely. The house, as you outlined, wasn't large at all, but with one full floor, an attic, and a porch. There were notes all around the house in your familiar scrawl, writing about the projected cost of each thing—typical of you to think about practicality, even in your fantasy house blueprint—as well as features you'd like installed, like a fireplace and a porch swing.

It reminded him so much of Sena's house in the suburbs in a way… had you thought about this while you were there? A place you could call home, some place to settle down eventually, and finally have a slice of normalcy?

sangyeon: lily said she coaxed it out of yn, which is why yn didn't want to share it and make it seem like she was forcing u into anything u weren't comfortable w

sangyeon: but i think that u love her enough to hear her out

sangyeon: idk… it's ur call ofc whether or not u want to have that conversation yet

Changmin always had doubts. He'd learned during his time on the mortal plane to slow down and feel the weight of another's emotions, and what inevitably came with empathy was insecurity.

You loved him; that was why his ring was on your finger and you would never bring up the cottage you confided to Lily about. You loved him, and knew that there was an unmistakable itch in him that could only be scratched when he was able to move, to not be chained to one place. But humans were different from demons, and your experiences were different from his.

He always had doubts that you might never be fully content with this life he led.

He sighed, massaging his jaw absentmindedly with one hand. Sangyeon had sent him those messages two days ago when you and he were driving to this sleepy town, tucked away at the foot of a mountain range. You'd been asleep when they were received, which was why you didn't see the notifications. Changmin could do as little then as he could now, and he basically replied to Sangyeon that he would think about it and talk to you.

At some point.

That was before he realized that it would be all he could think about. There was no word for 'selfish’ or 'selfless’ in demonic culture. It was either you did something to help yourself or harm yourself—usually, those who didn't act for their own benefit were thought of as weaker willed. It was difficult to dismantle methods of thinking like this in order to view the world and his interactions in a different way.

Changmin abandoned his phone on the nightstand so that he could step over to the window and shove it open. The lever was rusty and squealed as he cranked it counterclockwise to let in the fresh pine morning and the natural white noise.

Maybe this would help him focus on work or gain the courage to talk to you when you came back.

Changmin barely glanced up in time to see a blurry mass hurtling toward his face. “Shit.”

He dropped to the floor.

A gleeful and tinny laugh like the rattle inside an aluminum can filled the room. The spike of shock in his heart was replaced very quickly with red, hot annoyance.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he grunted, clambering to his feet, eyes narrowed on the pixie who had invaded his space. “Don't you fuckers ever knock?”

The pixie was only about a foot and a half tall, its translucent, membranous wings fluttering at the speed of a human eye's blink. This one in particular had a pair of orbs as dark as the lowest circles of Hell for eyes and two racks of jagged teeth lining its gums. The pixie buzzed around the room, careful to remain out of Changmin's reach.

Fuckass supernatural mosquito….

“You hide your true form, demon,” its voice crackled like tin foil. “Naughty, naughty.”

Changmin's nostrils flared. “What's it to you, imp?”

“The darkness that lies deep within you—I can smell it—hear it.” The pixie zipped around the room over Changmin's head, and he gritted his teeth, attempting to clamp his hands around it. It squealed in delight, black eyes going wider and wider as if it could gaze straight into his soul. “What if we open the door, demon? Ah—I smell a human in this room!”

He stiffened. “You’re only smelling my human form,” he bit out.

“Must you need a reminder? I can smell your true form and I can smell lies.”

Changmin stumbled back as the pixie flew directly in front of his face, then fluttered out of reach before he could snatch the piece of shit out of the air. The organ in his chest continued to hurtle toward overdrive—the pixie could smell you. The pixie could smell you. “I will rip the wings from your back if you even think about touching my human,” he growled.

The pixie gasped, clapping its tiny, pale hands. “Oh-ho! The claws become you! Won't you show a little more skin, demon?”

His eyes turned down to his hands, palms turned upward, the tips of his fingers turned an ash gray. Where his chipped fingernails had been, now sat a full set of dagger-sharp claws. He hadn't even realized he'd transformed them.

“What color does a pixie bleed?” Changmin lunged for the pixie with his claws outstretched.

The pixie dove out of the way, the claw just barely missing the edge of its leg. “Does your human taste divine?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Not very fun are you, demon?” The pixie whizzed past his ear, behind his head—Changmin whirled about on the ball of his foot.

He slammed his palm forward, claws denting the plaster, nightstand digging into his thighs. As the pixie rose up toward the ceiling to stay out of harm's way, Changmin climbed onto the bed, determination coursing through his veins.

“Would you like a riddle?”

Changmin swiped his hand, relishing in the splatter of clear liquid that glittered in the air—blood. The pixie's eyes widened, this time in fear. “Why would I want a riddle?”

A tremble marked the pixie's voice. “Twin halves of old, sealed by a third / like matches, they will spark the world to burn—” Its words were cut off as it swooped out of the way, its clear blood trailing behind it as Changmin's breathing grew heavier, eyes narrowing. “To save three—”

A loud crinkle, akin to a dozen small bones being crushed. A shrill shriek, nails on a chalkboard. A demonic smirk as he clutched a fragmented wing in his clawed hand.

“You were saying?” he taunted, bringing the flailing pixie close to his face. Changmin couldn't deny the rush of deep, animalistic satisfaction that purred in his chest at his caught prey. Whatever this pixie had in mind for you would never come to fruition.

“You're a fool to not heed my warning—” it spat, its agony spilling in glittery globs, “—such actions are so true to your species, my liege.”

The impact of the title came accompanied by a flurry of something bright yellow and fuzzy thrown right into Changmin's face. Alarmed, he dropped the pixie and scrambled to claw the dust out of his eyes and mouth. He spluttered and spat the substance onto the hotel room floor; upon hands and knees, he tried desperately to get ahold of his bearings.

What the fuck was this stuff?

He could hear the blood pulsing in his ears, feel the transformation taking place. There was energy going toward places on his body to grow extremities he hadn't seen in years.

No, no, no—

Changmin gagged on the pixie's dust, its acrid taste a reflection of the bitter effects to show. He screwed his eyes shut—willed his body to take control of itself. When his hands went over his head, he swore at the feeling of the twin horns curling out of his crown.

Every one of his once-human senses were dialed to eleven. Voices and car motors and leaves crunching bombarded his ears; the intricately disgusting layers of odors in the carpet separated themselves beneath him. The sensations overwhelmed him from disuse. He held his head in his arms, panic weighing down and around his bones.

When the transformation was complete, he was left in haggard breaths. His arms shook as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, then to brace against the hotel bed.

The pixie was gone, naturally, and likely escaped out the window from where it came in.

Changmin splayed his clawed hands beneath him on the white sheets.

He shook his head, attempting to clear his mind and reign in the sensations to focus on the most important ones. Everything else could be background for now; all he needed was—was that.

There—it was faint, but approaching by the second. Humming.

It was a soft, familiar sound that curled around his taut spine with the tenderness of a lover's caress. A heartbeat followed, slow but steady and sure. The pattern was also familiar, accompanied by leisurely footsteps and the smell of dark coffee and pastries.

If he could just focus on those sensations in particular…

Then the thought hit him like a truck.

That was you. The voice, the heartbeat, the footsteps.

You would return at any moment and see him in this state. Changmin could practically feel the fear that would roll off you in waves (or was that his own?), and he lunged for the bathroom.

He stumbled into the dark chamber, fearing the reflection he'd find in the mirror should he turn the light on. The door slammed shut behind him and that darkness enveloped him.

There was your heartbeat again—ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum—still faint, but becoming clearer.

Slowly, he raised his head up to face the mirror on the bathroom wall. The dooming sense of acceptance dulled his own reaction.

Twin horns, onyx in color, curled out from the tufts of his hair, hard and unmistakable. His skin had taken on the grayish tint of his kind from the black blood that now ripped through his veins. There were the claws, of course, and the slim, wiry tail speared at the end with a sharp spade and a mind of its own. Fangs, jagged and like small knives, peaked their points out past his lips, and he snapped his mouth shut to keep the forked tongue from tasting air. His eyes had become that of a predator's, the pupils dark as night and slimmer in shape—all the better for a deeper field of focus.

In Hell, the consistent lack of bright light made it so that pinpoint eyes were sought after; it was better to see in the dark and pick apart the deep shades of red, black, purple, and blues. And, well, any sudden movement.

Changmin didn't know why he tried to fool himself into thinking keeping the bathroom lights off would change anything.

Your heartbeat was coming closer, louder. His breathing was beginning to even out as he matched his own to the sound of air rushing through your trachea, then exhaling through your nose.

He could get himself back to his human form before you got back. He could do it—he swore he could.

Focus.

It required so much focus and energy, but… but he could do it. He could do it before you saw him like this, before that calm heartbeat became erratic, and you became afraid—afraid of him.

His breathing deepened as he sucked in a lungful of oxygen. In… out.

Going from demonic form to human form in the mortal plane would be easy.

It should have been easy.

Seconds passed, and your footsteps approached from down the hall. There came the crinkle of a paper bag, shuffling of cardboard, as you shifted things in your hold to grab the room key from your pocket. The aroma of the pastries and coffee you brought back wafted into his nose, but not with the strength that your scent permeated every one of his senses—

Why couldn't he shift back?

He curled his hands into fists on the counter, frustration making his fangs scrape against each other.

Why wasn't he able to shift back? It was supposed to be easy—

The door outside clicked open and fell shut. “Changmin? Hey, I'm back.”

He stilled. The words to call back to you were lodged in his throat, unable to form upon the accursed forked tongue in his mouth. Panic seized him by the ribcage and he suddenly found it suffocating to breathe.

There was silence on your end, and he could hear your heartbeat slowly begin to quicken. “Are you—are you okay? The wall's dented, and the—and the sheets…”

Your footsteps arrived before the bathroom door, and at the same time he heard the door handle jiggle, he slammed his hand against it to bar you from coming in.

Changmin could feel your leap of fright; his shoulders sagged with regret. It probably wasn't the best idea to do that. “Don't—” he cleared his throat from the grittiness there, “—don’t come in.”

Your heartbeat calmed then, after hearing back from him. “I won't,” you promised. “Is everything okay?”

I look like a monster. Some dumb fucking pixie made it so I can't shift forms. And I can't lock the stupid door because my nails are too long.

But you didn't need to know all of that.

He hung his head, attempting to feel that tendril of power in him that he could grapple onto to trigger the transformation. Nothing. “I'm… I'm fine,” he choked out. “I—”

The corded necklace that was hidden beneath his shirt swung out into his view. His half of the pendant was not pulsing with life like yours was; it was connected to your heart, after all. But he curled his fingers around it nonetheless, his ears singling out your pulse.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum...

“... Changmin? Can I do something to help?”

He needed time. Fuck, he just needed to wait this stupid pixie dust out. His first thought was to send you away so you wouldn't see him at all. The next was a counter to the former—he needed your pulse. That was his anchor.

The energy was slowly seeping from his bodily stores to sustain this form in this realm. Maybe if the pixie dust didn't wear off, he could tire his body into transforming.

Your voice came out even softer. “Hey, what's going on, love?”

His forehead hit the door, eyes fluttering shut. “I'm not… I don't look like myself right now.” The self you're used to, at least. “A pixie came into the room and—and it threw something at me to force me to transform.”

“Into…?”

There was a light thump sound from the other side of the door as you leaned against it. Your warmth radiated through the wood, and the little monster inside him leaned into it. “My demon form.”

Changmin loathed the silence, your held breath. The acceptance washed over him in a deafening wave like his head was being held underwater.

“Okay,” you exhaled, finally. “That’s okay… and so you're not able to turn back, is that it?”

His eyes couldn't help but narrow. “You're not scared.” The scent rolling off you wasn't that of fear.

“Why would I be scared of you?”

Changmin's breath shuddered. There were plenty of reasons for you to be scared once you saw him. This body was made to harm. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“I'm not scar—”

“I could hear it from the street, Yn.” He didn't know what to do about the leap in your pulse, the way that steady ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum tripped over itself. Something at the back of his mind urged him to continue—to tell you everything and convince you to be scared. “I can feel the heat from your blood and smell the hotel soap on your skin.”

A beat passed. “That doesn't scare me.”

If you were anyone else, he would have laughed in your face. Foolish, foolish human. But you weren't just anyone else, and he couldn't get your terror out of his head.

When he didn't say anything for a moment, you murmured, “Love, can I come in? Can I see you?”

Changmin swallowed. “I don't want to scare you.”

“I know—but I trust you.” Your hand warmed the door handle on the other side, the soft clink of his ring against the metal echoing through the material to reach him. “Do you trust me?”

(If demons ultimately were motivated to do things that would help them, then he should open the door. To his brethren, a human willingly walking into his clutches was a mark too easy not to lose. But the reason they would want you to come in through the door was nowhere near the same reason he wanted you to.

If demonic culture didn't have a word for selfish or selfless, then what was this?)

He leaned his weight off the door.

With his body mostly hidden behind the slab of wood, he carefully cracked the door open, his claws wrapped around the outside, so you would be fed his demonic form gradually. You'd seen the claws before when he'd gouged a siren's eyes out. But your eyes drank in the ashen skin around his features—death incarnate—from the slits of his irises to the spirals of ebony piercing out of his head.

Your heartbeat took off, galloping wildly as he revealed more and more of himself while you stepped into the bathroom. The thunderous rush of your blood echoed in his own ears; it was a tantalizing sensation.

There was a nervousness to your movements. Your lips were tight, hands slightly shaky. But above all else, your eyes remained tender and worried, and he might have fallen to his knees if he wasn't clutching the door.

“Do you want to close the door?” You asked.

Even now, you wanted to accommodate him. He gave a small nod, but added, “Can you—can you turn around?”

You dipped your head once, then turned your back to him.

(So much trust… When did he earn all of this? From what did he deserve to have your back to him in this context? He could slit your throat in a blink, but you would throw yourself into Hell if he asked.

If demonic culture didn't have a word for selfish or selfless, then what was this?)

Changmin closed the bathroom door and swallowed everything into darkness once again. He could hear your shallow breathing; you were trying to keep it steady, because you knew he could hear it as clear as a bell, but it wouldn't fool him.

He took a step closer—then faltered, as he reached a hand out for your shoulder. He retracted his hand to his side. “You can turn around.”

Eyes watched as you slowly turned your body back around. You were fidgeting around with his ring, twisting the dark metal back and forth, as you lifted your eyes up and down his form.

There was that catch in your breath again. Changmin's shoulders were so tense, he couldn't decide if that was from how high-strung he was or from the energy steadily being spent from his body. He'd probably last about another hour or two before collapsing.

The bathroom was deafeningly quiet, with only your breaths and heartbeat keeping his insecurities company. He wanted to shrink into the collar of his shirt under your gaze, eyes blown wide as the moon. As you soaked him in, his eyes roved over your face—searching, searching, searching.

At last, you tried for a soft smile. “You don't scare me.”

“I don't?” But he couldn't smell fear on you, couldn't make out any clear displays of it. He'd looked for them all. Your heartbeat had calmed, but your expression had never lost that something.

(Was this love?)

You stepped forward once, and then again, until you stood with your toes touching and noses almost brushing. You shook your head and reached up to brush your thumb against his cheekbone.

So warm… so gentle.

His fangs gleamed in the dark when his lips parted. “You've been through so much,” he croaked. “Don't I look like them?” Them, the few creatures who had made you go on the run in the first place? Did creatures like him not haunt your waking world and nightmares? How could you bear to sleep next to him at night?

“If you're trying to convince me you're a monster, then it won't work.” Your fingers trailed down the plane of his face and he reached up to grasp onto you before you could retreat. “Does it hurt?”

At that question, he couldn't help the small, raspy laugh that bubbled out of his chest.

“What?” You asked, the corners of your mouth lifting upward.

“It's no—” he shook his head, his tongue darting out to slip over his lips. His fingers rearranged around yours and held them close to his chest, his thumb finding the familiar characters of his name wrapped around your digit. “—nothing. I just… you still care.”

Confusion flickered over your face, but was swiftly replaced by something softer. “Of course I still care.”

“I could hurt you.”

“You could have hurt me a long time ago.” But you haven't.

Changmin swallowed again, relishing in the warmth that radiated from your palm wrapped in his. “No, it doesn't really hurt,” he whispered. “I just can't sustain this form for very long.”

Your eyes shone. “How long?”

“A couple hours at most,” he said, fangs grazing his lip. “I'm trying to wait out the pixie dust—”

“Pixie dust? Aren't you supposed to be flying?” Your grin was flooring, but he managed not to falter. At his deadpan expression, you patted the back of his hand. “Sorry, don't get your horns in a twist.”

“Yn—”

“It was right there; I had to.”

Even he couldn't suppress the curl of lips for long. He just… Hell, he just loved you. Even if he now had slits for pupils and knives for teeth, nothing could mistake the blatant fondness in his features. His eyes could be pitch black, but he would still find a way to express silently how much he adored you.

You pursed your lips, the mirth leaving your face for a second. “Do you need blood? How long until the pixie dust wears off?”

“I'm not sure, but I'm not taking your blood.” He sent you a pointed look when you opened your mouth to retaliate. “It's like you have a death wish from the amount of times you've offered me blood. I'm not dying, sweetheart.”

“You could be…”

“Technically, I'm undead—”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, whatever.” Your nose wrinkled up for a second, and then you were wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his shirt. “You’re still Changmin to me. You're still the guy I'm in love with.”

His arms came around your form and he tucked his face into the crook of your neck, careful to keep his horns from hitting you. He suffocated himself on the feel of your skin, the subtle bump in your pulse just beneath the surface. Despite everything, you still trusted him enough to put his teeth so close to your scars. You didn't run away from him, from the true him.

(Was this love?)

He wanted to hold you here forever. His human. “I love you.”

Your body tensed in surprise, and it nearly chased him away until you squeezed him tighter. He felt your lips against the place his human heart would have been. Changmin always had doubts, but you were so good at calming them. “I know.”

And haven't you always known?

Changmin had known, too, even if he'd searched long and hard for the doubt. All this time of sharing your space, your warmth, your company—he knew.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed!

night terrors fic / collection

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @lotties-readings @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @gluion @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @bjnet

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xianta · 2 years ago

Text

yo part 3 drop lets go

[Part 1] [Part 2]

#south park #sp creek #tweek tweak #craig tucker #tweek x craig #south park creek #xianta art #craig x tweek #creek demon au #imp tweek #youth pastor craig

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stellar-constellations · 1 year ago

Note

Uppermoon trio + Muzan x female reader watching a horror movie headcanons? ;)

Muzan + Upper Moon Trio (separately) x Fem! Reader Watching Horror Movies

Modern AU (they're still demons and reader is a female human!)

Muzan:

It's hard finding a movie for Muzan to genuinely watch. He's so nitpicky about them. What's the point of watching fake gore if he can just go outside, kill someone, and create his own horror movie?

Muzan glares at the screen if the gore is inaccurate or there's too much blood (or too little). Why lie? Where's the real stuff?

Muzan probably likes torture gore movies but still wants plot.

Muzan likes Silent Hill (2006), the Saw series, Silence of the lambs (1991), Truth or Dare (2018). He likes all the gore and the plot makes up for the inaccuracy of the gore (he likes Truth or Dare simply because the idea of controlling human's minds and bodies are amusing to him)

It's hard to make Muzan sit down and watch a movie with you since he'd rather do other things instead such as work, but once in a blue moon you can convince him.

Muzan rarely ever cuddles you when watching movies, but if he notices you're scared, he'd pull you close by your waist so you're hugging his side. He acts like it isn't a big deal, but it obviously is considering Muzan's dislike for humans and their weakness. He doesn't bother trying to tease you about your fear, you're already scared and you both know this, and scary movies are supposed to ignite that sort of fear (he also might be engrossed in the movie you put on, but he'll never let you know that satisfaction).

Douma:

Douma loves gory movies.

Douma talks to the TV like it can hear him. Will tell the characters to calmly run, makes remarks about them being too slow or how the killer is catching up (he might be fantasizing about being the one chasing them).

Douma laughs at every joke in the script like it's the funniest joke he's ever heard. He even laughs when background characters laugh (that's how you know he's a fake one).

Douma likes obscure movies such as the Circle (2015), Last Shift (2014), the Final Destinations, and Wolf Creek (2005). Probably likes Human Centipede (2009) and laughs at the grossest scenes.

Douma forces you to keep your eyes open, like physically holds them open.

Douma laughs at your fear, he finds amusement in it. It's real genuine fear compared to the fake acting on TV.

Douma will only comfort you if you cry or if you walk out on the movie to get away from him. He'll apologize profusely (mainly because he doesn't want to sleep alone on the couch).

Kokushibo:

Kokushibo doesn't care much for them. He prefers thrillers or mysteries instead.

Kokukshibo is genuinely a little bit freaked out of Scream (1996) because of the guessing who is the killer element, along with the technology of phones (he's traditional, refuses to use anything except letters or email). It was a fight to get him to use router phones.

Kokushibo likes storytelling movies, or movies with multiple protagonists, or movies where you guess the killer.

Kokushibo likes movies such as Trick ‘R Treat (2007), the Tales from the Crypt series (1989), Stephen King's 1922 (from 2017), Psycho (1960). Nothing too graphic. Gore does not equal horror in his book. He watched M3gan (2022) and was uncomfortable of the advanced technology.

Kokushibo will reassure you if you're scared. He'll tell you that the movie is fake and will turn the movie off if that's what you want, he'd rather read or do something else instead. If you want to continue watching the movie, he'll give you a blanket so you can hide your face when you get scared, or hide it in his chest, he doesn't mind that either. He finds it comforting that you turn to him when you're scared.

Akaza:

Akaza is someone who yells at the TV. He'll be one to yell "Run lady run!" whenever the victim trips. Akaza understands final girls cannot punch a hole through their stomaches like how he can, so he just screams at them.

Akaza loves watching movies involving final girls such as the classic 80's and 90's movies with the most final girls. He likes seeing the women kick evil men's asses because the killer had the audacity to prey on someone they believed were weak.

Akaza likes the first Halloween (1978). He walks you home so you don't get stalked like Laurie Strode did. He also likes the Nightmare on Elm Street series (and watches you when you sleep to make sure Freddy Krueger isn't getting you). He likes Joy Ride 1 (2001) and Joy Ride 2 (2008) [though, he likes the second one way better], and Unfriended: Dark Web (2017). Unfriended made him genuinely uncomfortable because of the invisible paranormal force killing the victims off. How can you fight if you can't see it?

Akaza notices the second you show discomfort or fear, he asks if you want to have the movie turned off. If you don't, he'll put his arm around your shoulder and pull you close to him. He likes when you hide your face in his shoulder or chest, he likes that you turn to him to protect you (because he obviously will).

I apologize sincerely for the huge delay! I had little time to write due to work so the only time I had to write was when I was supposed to be sleeping or relaxing, but I finally got this done! Better late than never!

Want more Muzan content? Check out the Muzan masterlist!

Want more Kokushibo content? Check out the Kokushibo masterlist!

Want more Douma content? Check out the Douma

masterlist!

Want more Akaza content? Check out the Akaza masterlist!

At the moment my requests are temporarily closed, I'm working on other requests (that are months old...), but once I finally clear those up, I'll be accepting more requests!

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worldsofarchive · 6 months ago

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Monster In Your Closet

This Book Contains:

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Demon!Sekido

Warnings: Monsterfucker, inhuman-sized dick, tentacle-like appendages, mentions of drugs and getting high, light slapping, a lot of biting, and mentions of blood

Keynotes: Au where demons can be summoned, soft-ish Sekido at the end, mention of Urogi and Karaku

Rating: 18+ / Those younger or unstated will be banned from the library!

Word Count: 2.8k

You flopped onto your bed with a head-splitting headache and a tight chest. That little graffiti-covered crystal store was not what you expected; there was so much incense in the small area that the ceilings were covered in ropes of smoke. You barely got to the first shelf before a smell of marijuana hit your nose. The employees in the back were laughing and were high as kites, mumbling nothings as if having a conversation.

You immediately turned heel and walked out of the store. You are not going back there; your head is pounding, and you let out a few coughs. After entering your home, everything felt odd; maybe you were high from the incense. You heard floors creek, doors open, your closet door slid, and some of your stuff was moved. Your head hurt so much that you were hallucinating. You stretch, and you hear a few pops in your back before you exhale.

You go limp on your bed and sign. Huh, your closet door is open. Wait! "AH!!" Your foot gets grabbed by something! Your back hits the floor, followed by your head. Before you know it, you grab onto the wall, the only thing keeping you from being dragged into the closet. A clawed hand grabs one of your arms and flips you onto your back. Deep red eyes glare down at you.

"Were you the one who summoned me?!" His voice pierced you right through your chest, and it tightened. A demon, a real-life demon, right on top of you. No human can have such bright, glowing eyes. Wait, summon? "I-I didn't summon anyone!" You force out a pitiful whisper, and his glowing red eyes narrow. He gets off you and looks around.

"Well, I'm tied to you! So you must have summoned me!" You take this opportunity to bolt out of your room, but his claws reach you first. He yanks you back and glares down at you. "What do you want?! I want to get this done and go back to my brothers!" Your instincts kick in, and you start kicking your legs while trying to pry his fingers off your shirt.

A deep growl rumbles in his chest before he slams you down on your bed and holds you down. "QUIT FUCKING DOING THAT! I'M TRYING TO TALK TO YOU, DUMB HUMAN!" You freeze at that; you feel the sting of tears behind your eyes. He grows long appendages from his back, similar to tentacles, and they hold you down as he leans away from you. He is at least two meters tall.

"So you didn't summon me, but for some reason, I am tied to you. Then the person summoning me must have been looking at you." He glances around the room in thought. Suddenly you remember those employees. "D-Do people use crystals to summon you?" He looks down at you. "With Ruby…"

"…Why?" You let out a sigh. "I went to a crystal shop, and the people working there mumbled and played around with crystals." He tilts his head briefly, and now that you're calm, you finally get to look over him. He wore traditional Japanese clothes, all black. His hands were black and skin tan. He had two horns on his temples that looked jagged.

He groaned and rubbed his temple. "Great… Just let me get some blood from you, and I'll be able to go home." He said as he pulled you closer. "What!?" You instantly struggle against the tentacles, terrified of what the demon can do. What if he just rips your throat open, cuts open your stomach, and guts you?

"It's to break the summoning contract! STOP FUCKING MOVING BEFORE I GUT YOU AND BLEED YOU LIKE A PIG!" His hands grab your shoulders and pull you closer to him. There is heat radiating from him; you just noticed how almost painfully warm his hands are on your shoulders. "I'm not going to kill you; just hold still."

That's the only warning he gave before his jaw locked around your shoulder. Sharp teeth pierce the flesh, breaking blood vessels and forming beads of blood. An almost hot tongue licked up those beads before his pupils blew. "Fuck…" He cursed softly before biting into your shoulder again, earning a yelp this time. Your eyes squeezed shut and your body tensed.

A desperate tongue wanting more. He got a taste; now he wanted more—a taste of the divine. He felt a chain break; the contract broke. The tentacles let go of you and he stepped back. Your shoulder stung, a throbbing pain that fired up your nerves. You watched him carefully as he began looking around the room.

He took a step closer to your bedroom door before he ripped open the air, forming a rift. It looked like a grand hall of a castle on the other side; he walked through it, and you saw a glimpse of someone who looked exactly like the demon. Though he had wings, bird arms, and legs with yellow eyes. "Wait! What's your name?" As if you'd meet him again.

He didn't even turn before the rift closed. "Stupid human…" A loud cackle echoed through the large hall; angry rubies went to glare at a pair of jovial citrines. The winged demon twisted in the air, tears in his eyes and teeth bared. "Hahaha! 'wait! w-what's your name, handsome one?' hahaha! Imagine being summoned by a bunch of high humans."

A growl rumbled in the ruby-eyed demon's throat. "Shut it, Urogi!" His laughter only got louder; if he didn't have wings, he'd be rolling around on the floor. "That human was cute; maybe I'll steal them from you, Sekido." Sekido bared his teeth and threw a staff at Urogi. "You irritating Vermin! Out of my sight!"

Urogi flew off with a bright smirk on his face. Sekido was left with his thoughts; the need and desire clawed at him. Twisting his guts, digging their claws in his brain, pulling at his tongue, and scratching down his back. Warming his crotch and tugging at his robe. He got the taste of the feeling; now he wants it more. Taste of divine.

Human cities were packed, uncomfortable, and stuffy. The smell of sweat filled the air; tangled between it was perfume, from dull to bright, sweet to smoky. So much noise, everywhere. But he endured, his eyes locked on you as you walked. Stalking you in the crowd and blending in as a human was easy, but being among them was horrific.

Constantly bumping his shoulders, asking for pictures, reaching for his hair, and yelling at each other with no regard for anyone else. He brute forced his way through the crowd to stay on your tail. His footsteps were silent behind you as you walked home, passing street lights that he didn't dare step into. Staying cloaked in shadow out of sight.

It hadn't been long before you turned off most of the lights in your home; the scabs on your shoulder were already almost gone. You couldn't get him out of your head; he pulled at your heart as if you were in love. Maybe it was his face, maybe his voice, his presence. His eyes. As quickly as he appeared, he disappeared. Not a trace.

The appearance of demons was something of a lowkey thing, a very niche topic. You either believe it or you deny it. Or now there is a third option; experience it. You feel indifferent, but maybe you do, in fact, like him, maybe in a physical way. His short fuse isn't as charming as his voice. Then, just as you were heading to your bedroom, a knock from the front door broke your stride.

Demon knocking on your door. You peep through the hole and see him—more human though. You don't know why, but you open the door; you want him. You yearn for him. You want him to put you on the floor and crawl all over you; trace his fingers on your whole body. You know it's kind of wrong; you're torn, but the thought turns you on.

As soon as the door swings open, he isn't human; he is a demon. His fiery ruby eyes look down at you. He walks in and closes the door behind him, eyes still locked on you. He will swallow you whole; you feel it. Wasting no time, he grabs you and rushes to your bedroom. Instantly on top of you, his fangs dig into your shoulder once more.

Your back arches and hands grab onto his shoulders as if he were your lifeline. "You taste fucking divine." Addicted to the taste of you, he wants more. His lips suck at your neck, tongue pressing against your pulse. Hands wandering down your body, claws leaving light marks. The ripping of your shirt was followed by something yanking your bottoms off.

Tentacle-like appendages coiled around your ankles and pulled you closer to him. His skin was hot, and so was his breath on your neck. He wasted no time discarding his clothes. Your body felt so warm and needy; you wanted him so bad. Teeth sunk into your collarbone as his hands fondled your breasts.

Clawed fingers toying with the fat and threatening to pierce your skin. Your thighs squished together at the familiar sticky wet feeling, and his attention shifted from your neck to your thighs. He began moving lower, nuzzling your stomach before looking down at your crotch. Pushing your thighs apart effortlessly as he growled made your chest tighten, and you feel like you're free falling through the sky.

It's becoming hard to think; your body jolts when he faceplants into your crotch. Prominent nose pushing against your clit before a hot tongue prods at your folds. You look down at him, face flushed and throat tight. "You upset that I kissed your bottom lips before your top lips?" He asks before he slaps your thigh. "Suck it up."

The slap didn't hurt that much; it stung in a way that made you excited. Every tilt of his head, every flick of his tongue, every nuzzle sent electric shocks up your spine. Your hips buck and your back arches to escape the almost painful pleasure, but he doesn't let you. Large hands holding down your hips and another light slap on your thigh. "Quit moving or I'll spear you."

His tongue pushed inside and pressed against your bumpy walls. You couldn't stop your whimpers and moans; you grabbed his horns. You wanted something to hold onto as his tongue did wonders. The pleasure made you almost float, your head so light, making it hard to think. All you could focus on was his tongue.

It was so warm in you, pressing against all the best spots. Some spots you couldn't reach, which made you see stars; it was so hard to think; not a single thought stayed before his tongue invaded your mind. A hot knot was on the verge of snapping before he angled his nose just right, tongue grazing over an oh-so-tender spot.

You came undone on him, thighs squishing his head, back arched, mind hot white, and mouth hung open in a whiny moan. Fuck, you tasted good. Sekido almost felt his own eyes roll back at the taste of your release. His cock was throbbing just as much as his head; in that moment, he wanted to be one with you.

He wanted body against body, so unbelievably close to you. If he were more ruthless, he'd eat you, tear your flesh, and swallow it. He moved his head away, licking up the arousal on his chin. One hand ran up your body while the other stroked his cock, beads of precum spilling out. The first thing you noticed was the length; it was way too long, and it would not all fit inside you.

Sekido leaned over you, hands on either side of your head, tentacles holding your legs up, his fiery rubies staring so deep into your eyes they were admiring your soul. "My name is Sekido; scream it." Then his hot tip slid into you. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, and your body tensed.

He didn't stop for a moment, almost painfully stretching you, pushing further and further in. His cock was bumpy, rubbing against your sensitive soft walls. The room began filling with your moans and strained whimpers. The stretch is all you could focus on until his teeth found your cheek and he bit down.

Before you could flinch away, his hand cupped your face. Blood trickled down along with a few tears. Then a painful shock fired up your spine, and you tensed from pain. The demon tilted his head and looked down. He's hit your cervix, and he isn't even in all the way. "Tch, tiny humans." His hips rocked back slowly, letting you feel every bump.

Without any warning, he thrust back in, being mindful of your cervix, not wanting to hit it. Back arched and head thrown back, exposing your neck for him to nibble at. Little pricks and beads of blood form as his thrusts become rougher. Every thrust knocks the air out of your lungs, making you feel more lightheaded than before.

Your body wants to squirm, arch away from the potent stimulation that sets your nerves on fire, but his tentacles hold you in place, rubbing against you. They find your chest, squishing the soft lumps of fat, and prod at your nipples. The stimulation is so much you grab onto his thick hair and pull.

Teary human eyes look at his demonic ones, and he smiles. Thrusts become more aggressive and send you to cloud nine. His lips smash into yours, a kiss so passionate and fiery he busts your lip. Kissing you so hard that spit rolls down your chin, his tongue overpowers yours, and he bites at your lip.

You can't think anymore; you're so lightheaded. All you can focus on are those rubies. Your stomach flips as a clawed hand plays with your pearl, and all the nerves zap you right in the spine. His other hand keeps your head near his as he laps at the bloody drool on your lips. "I fucking hate humans, especially you; you taste too fucking good. Infuriating."

His gaze is intense; you can't look at him. It makes you flustered beyond anything. The pace picks up; his thrusts are as fast as your heartbeat, you swear it. You can't hold it in anymore; you cry out. Your dull nails are scratching at his shoulders as he sucks on your neck. Everything he touches feels hot—your breasts, where his tentacles have coiled, his cock inside you, his tongue and breath.

"Sekido! Sekido!!" You scream out, his face in your neck as he licks up the blood. "You're fucking divine." Teeth on your ear, oh fuck, your vision is pinching. Dark circles bloom. It's too much; he's too deep; he's too good. You can only helplessly stare at the ceiling as he holds your head and rams your pussy.

That knot forms in your stomach again, but it feels bigger and more intense. Your legs are shaking, and the bumps on his cock are driving you insane. The knot is fraying after each thrust until you're falling off the edge and you scream out "SEKIDO!" Strong arms pull you into a tight embrace as something nearly piping hot fills your insides.

The tentacles uncoil and let you curl up in the demon's arms. You're panting as if you just sprinted for an hour straight, head still in the clouds, and you have yet to come down from heaven. The demon sits with you on his lap, making sure to hold you up so he doesn't hurt your cervix. As you come down from your high, he is licking up any blood left from his bites or rough kisses.

Your bottom lip is swollen and busted, your eyes blurry and teary, and your body is sweating and hot. The room is spinning a little, your head tilting with it as you rest your head on the demon. He nuzzles your hair as he lifts you off his cock, which wetly flops down onto his thigh. You whimper softly as the warm, creamy liquid seeps out of you.

As you're catching your breath, you hear something under your bed. Your blood runs cold as you see a clawed hand grab the frame, and a head appears. You're about to scream before Sekido covers your mouth and bares his teeth at the identical to his figure. This one had green eyes and seemed much more upbeat than Sekido.

But more importantly, he was the monster under your bed.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #female writers #worldsofarchive #writing #sekido #sekido hantengu #hantengu clones #sekido x reader #hantengu x reader #kny hantengu #kny au #hantengu au #monster #demon #tw.monsterfucker

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pespillo · 2 years ago

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craig of the creek AU for collector and king , yes, they keep calling themselves THE Collector and THE Demon King, and their backstories are still really dramatic and full of bloodshed and tragedy, as they insist

#the owl house #the collector #king clawthorne #samsa´s art stuff

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 year ago

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Sweet Home Alabama Masterlist

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Linley Floyd), Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Linley Floyd)

Status: In-Progress

Last Updated: 01/27/2024

A/N: This story does not start explicit but does get there. Minors do not interact. This story is 18+. This story is for @cherrycola27, and @thedroneranger because their unending love for the movie is what prompted me to create this AU. This will hold mostly true to the movie, but I'm going to update parts of it which I've never really liked. I hope you all love it!

Cross-posted on AO3 and Wattpad!

Themes: angst, love, smut, attraction

Summary: Linley Floyd left Pigeon Creek, Alabama and all she was, including the name she was born with, in the rear view mirror seven years ago when she moved to New York. When her boyfriend and she's sure, the love of her life, proposes, she finds herself right back in the place where everything began, Pigeon Creek, Alabama. She has to face down some old demons, and fix some broken relationships to get a divorce from her husband, all so she can marry the man she truly loves. What happens in Pigeon Creek after that proves that sometimes, home is where the heart is, even when you don't know it.

Characters

Jake Seresin

Linley Floyd a.k.a Linley Mitchell

Bobby Ray Floyd

Natasha Trace

Penny Benjamin (nee Seresin)

Amelia Benjamin

Pete Mitchell

Bradley Bradshaw

Carole Bradshaw

Mickey Garcia

Reuben Fitch

Beau Simpson

Lightning Never Strikes the Same Place Twice

Welcome to New York

Country Roads, Take Me Home

Home (Not So) Sweet Home

Love Conquers All (Supposedly)

The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Decisions

This Is The End (Of What Used to Be)

Trouble's More Than A Word (It's A State Of Being)

Catfish and Dog Cemeteries

Roosters and Reenactment Day

Non-Sibi Sed Patriae

A Clean Slate

A Lawyer's Lament and Deep South Glass

Shot through the Heart, But You're to Blame (You Give Love A Bad Name)

Sweet Home Alabama

Epilogue - Home is Where the Heart Is

My Taglist for this fic is Open!

Want to be added to the Taglist for this fic? Leave a comment on this masterlist or drop me a message in my inbox!

PLEASE INCLUDE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. I DO NOT ACCEPT TAG-LIST REQUESTS FROM BLANK OR AGELESS BLOGS. THIS IS AS MUCH FOR MY SAFETY AND LEGALITY ON THE INTERNET AS WELL AS YOURS.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #sweet home alabama #a top gun au #star's sweet home alabama top gun au #jake hangman seresin x oc #hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc

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lo1k-diamonds · 8 months ago

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Too Sweet 💜 Chapter 3 - But then you wake up for the sunrise

PAIRING: Demon!Yoongi x (f)reader

SUMMARY: Coming from unabashed wealth has its perks — like never having to lift a finger in your life. When that suddenly changes, you end up at a crossroads: how far will you go to have everything you want?

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

GENRE: Crossroad Demon AU (Sloth), smut, angst

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: implied trauma and abuse, including neglect growing up, unprotected sex, biting, pain mixing w/ pleasure, choking and breath play, anal play, degrading thoughts, nipple play, blowjob + face fucking, subspace and aftercare, crying, fighting

A.N. Getting attached to your demon comes with perks... and vulnerabilities. Here's to my favorite part 💜

Masterpost | Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter : Next Chapter >

The high yet soothing ringing of the Tibetan Singing Bowl along with the water streaming down a gentle creek permeated your ears and all around you. You were lying face down on a massage table, naked with your hair carefully tied in a bun so your masseuse could spread the perfumed oils all over your back. As the wooden cushion striker rolled on the bowl to emit the healing verberations, you tried not to twist your nose at the recording of the rivulet. You supposed your money could get you anything but not a natural brook at that spa and resort you owned.

Your masseuse finished after removing the excess with a warm towel and bowed deeply before exiting the room. A moment later, the bowl stopped ringing as that person left as well, and you got up languidly. You let the towels that once covered you fall to the floor without much thought and reached for the warm robe waiting for you. This session had become something of a routine for you and as such, you knew exactly where to go to return to your suite up on the last floor.

You supposed you could just buy another spa and resort somewhere where there was a creek. Maybe in Tibet or Nepal; someplace untamed and breaming with healing energy. Not that it would solve anything, you mused as you got in the elevator. Those massages were good but they didn’t fix you and you didn’t believe a natural brook or even a monastery full of monks could help with that. You chuckled to yourself and brushed the bracelets around your wrists gently; you wondered how they would take the company if you ever engendered such a situation.

Truthfully, despite your searches, you were convinced that there was only one way to actually relax. To the best of your knowledge, there was no treatment or experience you hadn’t tried, and all they ever did was push the tension. You could feel it going from one corner to the other, one muscle to the next, tight within you without ever releasing. So far there had only been one way to accomplish that and you were starting to not care for any other way.

You thought getting high could have been a way but you wouldn’t make that mistake twice. After he had healed you a month back, you hadn’t touched anything but tobacco and alcohol. This was an accomplishment for you, but the real achievement was what you had found to replace your former addictions.

It started with touching your bracelets and wondering until you wished him to your presence and were startled when he came. You still remembered his piercing eyes just staring from across your suite, wondering why you would have called him when you had nothing you could possibly want.

Nothing except for him.

“I need a private jet,” you had pouted, unable to look away from him. As usual, he was all in black, looking like an executive about to have a neat whisky and fuck his secretary senseless.

The way his black shirt stretched when he chuckled and shrugged entranced you. “You have endless money, just buy one.”

“But I don’t have endless time,” you rebutted, a sly smile ebbing as you congratulated yourself for thinking so fast on your feet. “Buying takes time, asking you is way faster.”

His eyes squinted ever so slightly as if seeing through you, “Even if it costs you?”

You grinned, “It’s a fine balance.”

He had said nothing, only stood there looking at you, but you were daring. You walked up to him, gave him a cheeky nod, and got on your tiptoes to kiss him, just like you had days before to be healed of your addictions. Your heartbeat was now as strong as then, and while you were unsure whether the warm buzz in your bones was from the excitement or the expense, you couldn’t help the fluttering inside your chest. Because he didn’t push you back, nor did he break up your kiss.

Your phone started ringing and so you parted ways yourself, only to be told that the jet purchase had finally gone through and everything had been handled. You had laughed then and thrown your arms around his neck to kiss him again, and that was the beginning.

At first, you asked for simple things, most of which just filled you with curiosity: a secret, the answer to a current dilemma, the draft or script of a book or play you wanted to have access to beforehand. Every time you would use your time as an excuse, knowing very well that by doing so, it was only making it even shorter. Yet you did it with a wide smile because it earned you a kiss every time, sometimes even more than one, until it led to the real high you craved ever since you met him.

“You’re keeping tabs, right?” You would joke immediately, before he was even soft inside you, the sting still on your asscheeks as he rolled his eyes and moved away.

Regardless of his demeanor, he’d always show, take your kiss, and deliver. And all you could do was laugh and sigh because nothing compared to that. The thrill, the victory, the validation, the sleep — everything that came with him gave flare to your existence, and nothing compared.

You strutted across your suite to your bedroom, taking a deep comforting breath. You drew the black curtains to your luxurious bedroom and opened the windows to let the warm summer breeze invade the space. Your lips twitched in a mischievous smile at the thought of screeching at the top of your lungs for the whole building to hear.

You let the robe pool on the floor before you got on the bed. You took a deep breath and bent down in a downward dog pose, stretching yourself to retain a semblance of relaxation and maybe warm up a bit. After a couple of long breaths, you lowered to your forearms before collapsing your chest and knees into a puppy pose. That was when your neck finally stretched the way you liked, and when you brushed the bracelets around your wrists with a deep desire.

“What the fuck do you want this time?”

A shiver ran up your spine, mixing with the breeze puckering your skin. Your eyes were closed but you could just imagine the scene: you, with your hair up in a bun naked over the black silk sheets with your ass up while your chest pressed to the mattress, and him, behind you with a privileged view of exactly how ready you were for him.

“What are you doing, kitten?”

“Stretching,” you voiced calmly, resisting wiggling your ass. Teasing him was a tricky game; you couldn’t risk him leaving. Even if he never had without hearing you out first, you didn’t want it to ever happen. “And waiting.”

Silence stretched aside from the breeze billowing the curtains, but you didn’t break form to turn and see. You were confident he had his eyes on you just by the way your guts started slowly churning.

“Come on,” you beckoned, voice low and seductive. “Come make me feel—”

A whimper cut you off and blended with your smugness quickly.

Good.

You didn’t need to ask anymore; it was as if he could read your thoughts. That had to be why he was pushing a finger inside you crudely, unbothered by how unprepared you were.

Maybe because he knew how ready you already were. “Again?”

A quiet whine left your lips as they parted, “I want to relax.”

You just knew he could feel it — the way your muscles were relaxing as though a wave was washing over them. Inch by inch, from your core to your extremities — decompressing, releasing your tension slowly as he probed your wet hole with a single finger.

“Time… is ticking,” he said calmly and you cried, toes curling with how utterly surrendered you were. He had pushed in another finger almost hiddenly until he parted them inside you to grossly stretch you. “And you still haven't lifted a finger.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks with your moan, forcing you to grab the sheets as you hid your face. It was extremely difficult to acknowledge a word he was saying when both your mind and body were screaming for pleasure.

“You speak— as though— I have no time,” your voice thinned with every movement of his fingers with your nails gripping onto the sheets.

“It’s not that you have no time,” he acceded calmly despite your loud and long outcry — he was pushing his fingers into your wet walls until you were almost curling and breaking position. “It’s that you don’t value the time you do have.”

You were starting to sweat; both the physical effort and his fingers pressing a familiar spot inside you were creating an uncontrollable fire in your gut. You parted your lips and only a breath made it out as you shut your eyes and let the blazing wave engulf you. It was easy to become adrift with the sensations, but the threat of his receding fingers pushed you to speak.

“I value it. I value it so much—” He pressed harder, maybe to break you, and you moaned, bucking your hips to both alleviate and intensify the feeling.

He hummed, “Maybe.”

You didn’t answer because you could feel the switch in his tone. It had happened before, in other encounters you two had, and it lit up a secret flame inside you. His free hand groped the swell of your ass, squeezing it roughly as you burned from his touch, his eyes, and his ministrations. You had noticed it before and you suspected it was the reason you got away with it — he wanted you. You couldn’t quite pin down why it was that he didn’t turn his back on you or that he gave you what you wanted each time, but you had the theory that he wanted it just as much. That somehow, you did something for him too. You didn’t know if it was because he got a bit of your soul every time, because you were bratty, or just because he wanted to fuck you, but you enjoyed it either way.

You let a pleasure wave shake you as you bit on your lower lip; his fingers stretching you, pressing squelching sounds out of you could only mean he was preparing you, and the thought alone melted you. That was until his fingers twisted inside you and you felt something change on the outside and press your puckered hole.

You whimpered, both wanting whatever would come next and bordering overstimulation when his thumb pressed and got in. You immediately tightened as much as possible on a reflex and he actively bypassed your efforts by pushing in roughly. His thumb settled inside up to the node all while his other fingers curled and pressed on your walls, making you jolt. You wiggled, wanting to escape only for him to slide in and out with every movement. He ended up deeper than before and you cried out with the pressure sparking pleasure that had you throbbing in a vicious cycle.

Your eyes were shut and your nerve endings were on fire as your body utterly relaxed under his touch, “Please.”

You didn’t know what you were asking for, if anything for him to continue, maybe for him to even ruin you. And as always, he seemed to read your mind.

You felt something wet and cold drip down on your ass, going around his finger only for him to take it and press it in. The sensation unnerved you and had you jolting forward despite the odd angle on your neck, but he didn’t let you go far. He gripped your hair bun with his free hand and forced you to get on your forearms and fall back into him, and that drew a guttural moan out of you.

His thumb was all the way inside you, but the rest of his hand was replaced by his cock. It was the only thing that could push into you, stretch you so painfully well in its entirety until he was tucked to the hilt. You had tears in your eyes and whimpered when he swelled inside you, purposefully pressing to your cervix so you knew what would come. And you knew and still wanted it even if you’d cry the whole time. Though you suspected you wouldn't. It turned out you loved the sting and the way you felt full and relaxed under his touch.

You were so at ease you were spasming around his dick, sighing with his grip on your hair that was keeping your back taut, and maybe he didn’t like that. He let your hair go and you didn’t slack off, but he still smacked your ass so strongly it echoed in the room. It sparked a whiny moan as the pleasure shot through you, and again and again with every hit. Your hips swung to tease him, ask for more, ablate the sting, and feel him even deeper, and he kept going. He pushed you to euphoric levels as you fucked yourself on him; it was paradise.

“Is this what you wanted, kitten?”

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could think — yes, yes it was. But as you moaned and kept going, despite the respite from his slaps, you thought you could push him a little.

“Actually— I wanted a mirror as the head of the bed or— to cover the wall— right there, you see?”

You tried raising a finger and pointing at the wall above the headboard but it fell quickly. He had snapped his hips into you as if he wanted to push your soul out, imposing the rhythm he wanted. You fought the urge to curl onto yourself, so melted by the impact of every thrust, that you couldn’t find your form. Not until he pulled you by the hair to meet his thrusts viciously, pulling your head up simultaneously.

Your eyes crossed in the mirror in front of you and your senses jolted awake. The head of the bed was now just a mirror from the mattress to the ceiling letting you see everything: you on all fours with your tits bouncing with every plunge, your red asscheeks, your hair in a ball inside his fist, his other hand busy with what you guessed was a full thumb inside your asshole, him fully clothed in black, snapping his hips to your hips to drive you nuts, and finally his eyes.

His dark piercing eyes locked with yours and they caught your insides on fire. You weren’t just a secretary he was fucking senseless, you were so much less. You were not worth getting his clothes off for, nor had a worthwhile touch. You were a body with a set of holes that he wanted to use, to make gush, and it twisted your guts, the wet sounds superposing almost to the slap of his hips. The hunger inside you to become more while knowing that he was fucking you because he wanted to use you, no matter how worthless you were, almost drew you to your peak but you waited. You waited, with eyes never parting from his through the mirror, for him to deny it, enforce it, or do something.

Yet all he did was feed into that perversity, “Fucking greedy cunt.”

You clenched and you could have laughed if he wasn’t so deep inside you, stretching you to the point you couldn’t articulate, let alone react. Whether he was calling you a cunt or saying your core was greedy for his cock, you loved it — both were true.

You arched your back even more for him, needing to feel him kissing your sensitive cervix. It shook you with the sting of every poke, but then you stopped breathing. You stood still, letting him rut into you. He fucked you, not desperately, but without hesitation, with sweat dripping down his neck as his Adam's apple bobbed. He used you and abused you but he was right there for you.

You whimpered and got your hand to rub your clit as soon as possible before that wave could wane, and it crashed. You cried your pleasure as if you had to proclaim it to the world, with a particular pitch to account for the stinging, only to feel his hips stuttering. Your eyes shot open so you could see his squinting, focused on himself disappearing between your ass cheeks until he shot his load inside you with a groan.

Your lips curved in a smile, pleased with the way you milked him right. You sighed, letting your face hit the mattress with the relaxation finally settling, even as his cum started to drip down your thighs.

You felt him move a little but didn’t bother thinking about it. Only when something touched your lips did you open your eyes quizically. His fingers were wet with a white fluid and you stuck your tongue out immediately, inviting him inside your mouth.

You moaned and clenched around his cock and thumb still inside you. The taste of your cums together was a unique type of drug that left you breathless and stupid on the spot. You suckled on his fingers, moaning the dopamine discharge lighting up your brain until he pulled away, and you whimpered. But not too much; you sighed to yourself. He’d keep on feeding you that unique blend — you trusted him.

“Was that all you wanted?”

You chuckled, “No.”

He cursed and rolled over; in a flash, you were lying with your back over his chest. Your ass was stretched and would slowly shrink back to normal, but his hard dick was still inside you. You chuckled as he heaved a deep breath, crossing his arms behind his head. You didn’t move a muscle.

“What is it this time?”

You pressed your lips, “Well, I was thinking about… an exotic place. An untamed, brimming with energy place. With a creek. You could get it for me.” He was silent behind you but you could feel him breathing. You chuckled, “Bonus points if it comes with a monastery full of monks.”

You jolted with the piercing pain of him pinching your nipples. You reached for his hands to incentivize him to loosen the squeeze, but he didn’t let up at all.

“Why would you need that?”

His voice was rougher and you imagined there was a hint of annoyance with your suggestion. You laughed quietly and he pinched harder, making a cold torrent tase you from head to toe. You held on to his wrists and pressed your heels to the mattress, but otherwise stayed absolutely still.

“For my meditation and healing.”

“You have money; just buy a place like that.”

“Can you imagine how long that will take? It took centuries with the jet, imagine in a foreign place like that?” You were pouting, “You can do that for me.”

One hand of his let go and you sighed and squirmed, thinking he was warming up to you. Only said hand wrapped around your throat, jolting you to press even more into him. You were even more vulnerable.

“Thought you said you valued your time.”

“And I do,” you rasped, heart beating with adrenaline. Your core throbbed around him in reaction, and you closed your eyes. He was so hard inside you. The way he was keeping you from riding him was such an unspeakable waste. “Can’t you tell?”

You tried rolling your hips and he pulled you by the neck harder, stretching you til your vertebrae popped. His hand pinched around your tits before he sank his teeth into your neck, making you writhe and moan uncontrollably. You were at the edge again, overwhelmed, unable to relax and release unless he guided you there.

He started moving and you sighed, fusing back into him without a trace of resistance. He had parted his legs and taken support on the mattress to swing his hips to fuck you slowly, stealing your breath away. You could only stay in place, whimpering and crying out your delight as he used you to his liking.

Even as he sped up, turning your insides to mush, you were still curious. Your wetness and his cum were dripping down your ass and you were burning with the lack of oxygen. The way his teeth were sinking into your skin had you gritting your teeth, and bliss was a moment away. But you wanted to feel it for yourself.

You let go of his wrist and traced down your body all the way to your core, touching lightly around your entrance only to quiver. Fuck, was he big and hard, no wonder you were burning so finely under his stretch. You moaned, both from the feeling of him pistoning inside you and the wet thick length brushing your fingers to use you, until his hand caught your attention. His fingers sank under your jawline just a bit to coax you to look up, and you gasped.

Above you, the ceiling had become a mirror and the view was breathtaking. Your sweaty and abused body was red and glowing, but what destroyed you was him. The sight of his cock ramming into your messy folds, glistening with every stab, and of his dark eyes set on you as he bit down your neck, not letting go of you, pushing you to your finish line.

He saw it and acted on it, and you thought maybe it was the plan all along. The hand squeezing your nipple was over your clit in a second, rubbing it perfectly and with every thrust a little more, until he let the blood flood through your brain again. You burst like a firework, arching even more into him. His teeth sank deeper, as did his cock, and his fingers kept you cumming. You trashed your legs, seeing white with such bliss, unable to come down for a while.

By then, he was licking your neck, stuffed inside you to keep his cum in while he took whiffs of your sugary white raspberry scent. You could have mentioned it or thought about it, but the lethargy spreading across your body didn’t let you.

You were ready to fall asleep when he moved to have you look up at him. He was sweaty and beautiful, with an intense gaze that gave you goosebumps. His eyebrow twitched and you sighed.

“I take it back.”

Your eyes were heavy so you didn’t catch the curve on the corner of his lips, “Good girl.”

Your haze was imposing but something perked your attention, making it impossible to fade into unconsciousness. His arms were keeping you above him, and he wasn’t leaving. You were normally too exhausted to even think and would wake up in to empty room, so you didn’t know what happened immediately after. You always assumed he just vanished without glancing twice but he was still there this time, with his arms around you.

You didn’t want to miss the opportunity. You sighed, “How did you… end up like this?” You were mumbling, fighting sleep. He stayed quiet and immobile, but you could hear him breathe near your forehead. “Were you… born one?”

You finally felt him shifting a bit under you, though his arms stayed firm, keeping you in place. “One?”

Your lips trembled before you whispered, “Demon.”

You were fearful but he chuckled, “I was born one; we all are. Reborn one,” he admitted and you furrowed your brow ever so slightly despite your closed eyes.

“How?” You breathed. It could be a dream.

“How…”

You didn’t dare open your eyes and break that spell; you imagined he was thinking, his mind wandering off.

“I made a deal, same as you, a long time ago.”

“How long ago?”

“I don’t know,” he smirked and shrugged. “Time has different meanings in different places.”

“Sounds interesting,” you cooed before nibbling on your lip. Your heart was beating fast with the thrill of that simple exchange.

It shook even more with his quiet laugh near your ear, “That’s because you’re ignoring the obvious.” His voice lost humour and you could imagine the detached eyes looking down at you. “None of this is good.”

You opened your eyes instantly, eager to catch that spark before it could vanish. His sharp eyes were set on yours and you almost wavered, but he had you. He was showing and saying more than ever before and for the first time in months it felt like you could have a conversation.

“How can it not be good,” you whispered, eyeing the straight line of his lips. “When it helped me so much?”

The line showed apprehension, “Are you sure it did?”

You almost scoffed, “Absolutely certain. No one has ever been so kind to me.”

“This isn’t kindness.”

You started laughing, despite your best efforts. Even though his demeanor screamed severity and his eyes showed sternness, you just couldn’t help yourself. Your laugh wasn’t mocking, it was almost jolly.

You cuddled more into his embrace, “It is. What? You’re toying with me? Of course you are, everyone is,” you shrugged, pulling his arms more around you. “It’s all everyone has ever done. Toy and use. You’re no different, but you are.” You paused, trying to put into words the nuance you had experienced only with him. “‘Cause at least you give me something in return. You’re the only one that has ever given me something in return.”

Your eyes lowered with the scattered recollections of what you had once sought to forget, but quickly they were back up. Your heart shook with what they found — there was a hint of emotion on an otherwise objective and unphased marble expression. At that moment, you were certain that your connection was not imagined.

“What was your deal?”

He didn’t even blink but you stayed put, still calm and relaxed, not just from your previous activities, but also because you were still together.

“What did you sell your soul for?”

Your insistence tipped the scales somehow because he sighed, “A way out. A way to leave and live out my dreams.”

Your eyebrows twitched curiously, “Did it work?”

He smirked and you finally saw a trace of emotions behind his eyes, “Yeah, but not really. That’s why details matter.”

Come now, kitten.

His entrancing voice still enchanted your spirit to this day. You nodded, “You didn’t know what you wanted and just said a way out?”

“I knew what I wanted,” he said, shifting under you but not with discomfort. He sounded assertive and you had a hunch that he was proud of himself. Your eyebrows twitched quizzically and he continued, “I wanted to be a musician, but I didn’t know what that meant.”

Your expression soured as your eyes lowered and you gave him a detached nod.

Your mind was about to pull you into the very dread you had been running from for years when he said, “It was my fault.”

You frowned, looking for the reason why he was telling you this.

The subtlest line sunk between his eyebrows, “I let myself go down that road. Others might have pushed or joined me along, but it was my life. My decision.”

You wondered then for the first time, with seriousness, if he could read your mind. Could he know your secrets? What you had been through? What you once dreamed and how it had all turned to shambles?

You pursed your lips, denying that idea. No matter how well he fucked you, that was probably impossible. Besides, it wasn’t your fault. What had happened to you, regardless of your stupidity, was not your fault. Whatever he was talking about, it was certainly only about himself.

Which made you wonder, “Is that why you keep telling me to figure myself out?”

He didn’t answer, he only clenched his jaw.

You sighed as you glanced up at the ceiling from your black silked bed. You were feeling down today and not even peeking up cheered you up. The mirrors were gone, sadly, so you could only remember how good it had been to feel him and talk to him right there, on your bed.

It had been months since you last asked for him; way more than you would have liked. It was your own doing, however. You were the one who decided to not call him so soon and actually try to do something with yourself. It turned out that it was easier said than done. There was only one thing your soul ever sought doing and you avoided it like the devil would a cross. Because of this, you were aimless and the temptation to feed your mind something else so you’d stop ruminating on old thoughts and pains was becoming hard to resist.

You missed the validation. You thought of your parents and the very little they had done for you in that regard, and it irritated you. They were something else you should avoid thinking at all costs for your well-being, and yet now that they popped up, you were annoyed. And since you couldn’t and wouldn’t ever get their validation, you thought of the one you did get.

Without words, just demonstrations — he had always shown up for you. He disagreed with your lifestyle and thought your wishes were futile and shallow, but still showed up every time. The last time had been the closest you had felt to being cared for, even though your storylines didn’t match completely. But they didn’t have to — he showed it in the way that he cared enough to prevent you from losing yet another piece of your soul. And you needed to feel that again.

You brushed your bracelets and heard a voice before your fingers lost contact, “Really?”

You sat up with giddiness, as if he had just surprised you, then got up and across the bedroom to reach him.

“What could you possibly want this time?”

There was a hint of exasperation but it didn’t phase you, “Is this really you?” You were inquisitive as you neared him, eying him from top to bottom. His typical black suit always made him look refined and now his hair was a bit longer, kept tucked behind his pierced ears. “Or is this something you show to me? Like a mask?”

You stopped in front of him and he chuckled, “Does it bother you?”

“Fuck no,” you scoffed. What kind of question was that? “It pleases me a lot. Hence, why I’d like it to be real.”

“This is the real me. I can change it but,” he shrugged and you raised your hands to cup his cheeks.

“Don’t change it, I fucking adore it.”

You pressed your lips to his and thought nothing of the way he took a second to kiss you back. It had happened before and you were just too eager to think twice. Just seeing him awakened you, talking sparked your interest, and brushing your lips together shot you up into the clouds. His taste inebriated you and the more his tongue pressed the exchange, the more the desire lit up inside you.

You buried your fingers in his hair and he reciprocated, pressing you close until your feet stopped touching the ground. He carried you back toward the bed and you sighed into his kiss — validated a hundred times over.

So when your calves touched the bed, you broke the kiss and gave him one look before switching places with him. You fell to your knees and searched for the black trousers’ zipper and bit your lip when you found it. Despite previous failed attempts at taking charge, you were pleased that he was letting you get on with it, feeding that flame within you.

You could have made it hot and slow by undressing him, pumping him softly until you closed your grip, licking softly around his sensitive balls, and maybe even nibbling on his thighs before flicking your tongue up his shaft and suckling on the tip. But you couldn’t be bothered to play it slowly when you had nearly obsessed about what he would taste like without your cum’s interference. He liked to give you that particular taste, like a last high before you fell asleep, but you had wondered how it would be if it was just him. And now you were about to find out.

You were happily getting his hard dick out and watering at the sight with your tongue sticking out when a strong grip by your hair roots stilled you in place. You looked up, batting your eyelashes innocently and quizically only to notice a hint of annoyance pulling his lip. You didn’t wonder if he wanted to stop — you knew he liked being with you and enjoyed your times together. Whatever it was, it was preventing you both from finding enjoyment in each other and you didn’t want that.

You gave him a nod and a smile, hoping he could read in your eyes how much you wanted this. You didn’t want to just fuck this time around. It wasn’t even just about learning his taste, it was so much more than that.

He released the grip on your hair and you knew that he was, as always, letting you do what you wanted. It was frankly refreshing. You set your eyes on his furiously red cock pointing at your face and nodded to yourself. For all the demon talk and lore you found online, one of the things that seemed real was that he was always honest with you. He never forced you into things, if anything he even pushed you to do better and have better. It just made you burn inside and want to give him everything even more.

And today that meant pressing your lips to the tip of his cock right before you let the hot plush skin part your mouth into an o. You knew, as you lowered your head, that you’d never take him fully. You didn’t even think you could get too much in without choking too soon because of how thick he was. But none of that was an issue for quite a few reasons: you were going to enjoy yourself and do whatever you liked, you’d look and feel hot doing it, you’d make him feel good partially just on those simple truths, and finally, he could always just use you.

You moaned with his cock sliding inside your mouth at the pace of your choosing and his grip around your hair tightened. Your tongue lapped at his tip, searching for his taste and having no qualms about getting it out of him with a bit of pressure. Your hallowed cheeks created a vacuum for just a second, yet he groaned and you tried again. His taste hit you with the force of a thousand flavors and your mouth slacked. You moaned deeply, your mind floored and overwhelmed with the sweet richness searing into your taste buds, and you drooled. Your spit was flowing down his shaft, dripping down his balls in a testament to how far gone you were. Until his nails sank into your scalp and he groaned.

That was when you tauted your lips again and decided that if his precum was a nectar, then his cum would be like an elixir from the gods and you had to have it. You cupped and caressed his balls as you got accustomed to his girth stretching your lips, tentatively sliding up and down to see how he’d react.

You were clenching around nothing, lewdly drooling and moaning over his cock as if you had reached an oasis, but his groans got to you. They sent shivers down your spine and puckered your skin down your nape as he gripped your hair tighter without ever forcing your head. It made you only want to work harder and as you got ready with a deep breath, instantly the musky scent added to the sweetness in your mouth. It lit up your brain like a Christmas tree, twinkling with every drop of precum dissolving on your tongue, and you whimpered.

After that, things became messy. Your hands favored his round asscheeks to press him closer as you sought to have as much of him as possible. You pressed him in so hard, trying to swallow him whole, but that just wouldn’t be possible. Even then, you angled your head better, slid lower, and took him deeper, again and again with masterful control of your breath and his thrusts.

At first, you wanted to please him, but the more the idea of him using you resurged, the more you found yourself hoping he’d grip you and fuck your throat numb. You had no idea where all that unrestrained hunger came from but you weren’t sure you had ever been like that with anyone else. With him, your emotions were raw while he reached within you deeply, poking a nerve that you didn’t think anyone had access to. You craved his unrestrained care and attention, even if it bled, because at least he would come back for you. He’d hold you to sleep and come back every time.

You looked up with watering eyes to find him looking at you. His gaze was intense, completely focused on you with his lips slightly parted. A thin shin of sweat was making his forehead and neck glisten and it tightened you up even more. You wanted that m— that demon, or whatever he was. You didn’t care if you’d burn in hell for it — it was worth it to feel alive and real.

You whimpered and pressed him into your face harder and wished with your whole soul that he knew what you wanted. His nails grazing your skin made you look up and you blinked at him almost pleadingly. A low growl passed through his gritted teeth and a moment later you saw white.

You knew pain didn’t work for you the same way as it did for others, especially when sex was involved. You also knew because of him that lack of oxygen was a powerful catalyst for you and that most importantly, you were safe with him. You could have wondered why but it never occurred to you, the same way there was no point in questioning why water is wet and the sunlight is yellow. All you knew was that you were safe to feel the sting, the roughness, his scent mixed with the sweat and sheer sex aroma all around you, the sweetness of his precum mixed with the salt of your tears, everything in a whirlwind that swept you off your feet, beyond getting you to your knees. And when he finally came, it propelled you into bliss.

You moaned around him, trying to swallow every drop of his release as though you were a woman starved for a week. The more you quaffed, the more you craved, drinking until you almost choked. He pulled you back by the hair to release his cock and beyond his cum trickling down your chin, you realized you were moaning. Your mind was lit up like a billboard sign and it took you a beat to recognize that you were spasming around nothing, worn out on both ends from his release and yours.

You were taking deep breaths to rebalance yourself when they somehow became shaky. He pulled you up by the hands and you did as instructed, unable to control the trembles and sobs now shaking you.

He observed you, sliding his hands on the sides of your neck under your long strands of hair only to grab you there and press his fingers into your skin. It felt surprisingly soothing and tears started flowing from your eyes. You could only stare at him, without a thought that could justify this until he leaned in to kiss you. Then your breath hiccuped and you squeezed your eyes shut, letting the tears fall with that deep emotion. He could probably taste himself in your mouth, his cum was still on your chin, and yet he licked your lips and pushed inside your mouth without reservations. His lack of hesitation shook you and had you reaching to grab him close. You felt as though you were a ball of wool of which he had finally found the loose thread, only to pull it and watch it unravel.

You didn’t stop crying, however, despite not realizing exactly why. You were ready to clean your face and step away, but as soon as your mouths parted, he was already sweeping you off your feet. You were in no condition to complain so all you did was hold on to his neck and let him carry you.

He had been there so many times but never to your ensuite bathroom. Still, he acted like he had been there a thousand times. He started the water to fill your bathtub with one hand before setting your feet down on the floor. He gently took your silk pajamas off as the water slowly pooled in your big tub. You watched him and let him, seeing him brush the strips down your arms and pull your shorts along with it. Your nudity didn’t bother you or him as he made sure to put everything away before he grabbed you once more and gently laid you inside the rising bath.

You didn’t let go of his hand, your heart was scared of him abandoning you. Instantly, you recognized that maybe that wasn’t the best course of action, but he surprised you. He crouched to your eye level and squeezed your hand, and you settled. You trusted him — that was the absolute truth.

You leaned back and let the warm water envelop you as he reached to grab oils and petals from the nearby counter. Your eyes were becoming heavy with the lull of the perfumes and dripping water, and when you opened them again, he was getting naked. Despite your lethargy, your heart still jumped at the sight and the implication. He did it slowly, or maybe your mind was just sluggish. You wondered why he didn’t just snap his fingers to get naked, but then you almost chuckled at the silliness of your thoughts.

The bathtub was big and could even fit three people if needed. You didn’t mind sharing it and didn’t expect what he did next — he reached around you and hugged you to him. Your last sob exited your lips then, only soothing deep breaths following suit. You were safe and you finally drifted asleep.

You inhaled a sharp breath when you woke up, startled to be immersed in water only to look up to your side with a dropped chin. He was still there, his arms keeping you firmly in place against his soft chest under your ear. He glanced at you, with your glistening sleepy eyes and puffy cheeks.

Then he raised a hand and rubbed your chin.

You blushed, still dazed not only by your nap, but by the whole situation. Was he wiping drool off your chin?

“You never told me what it was that you needed.”

His voice rasped quietly, yet your heart picked it up as if he had screamed it atop his lungs. It shook you unbearably, adding to your flushing cheeks that you pressed hastily. Water splashed lightly on your heated face and you swallowed. You never told him because… there was nothing you wanted. You only wanted to see him and be with him.

Shit.

You couldn’t possibly tell him that.

“I… wanted… a new phone,” you said slowly before chuckling and rubbing your face a bit more.

“A phone?”

His tone was dry but you were too busy making up something to notice, “Yeah, Apple has this new upcoming—”

He got up from the water, the sudden splashing cutting you off as you watched him go. The corners of your lips pulled; you couldn’t hide the sadness — you hadn’t even enjoyed that moment properly.

He gripped his hair for a second before facing you, “Why can’t you see further than this junk?”

You frowned, a bit confused, “What junk?”

“All of it,” he almost hissed, disgust clear on his features. “A jet, a building, money— I get it. You need comfort, sure, but a phone? Fuck! Why are you wasting your life away on junk?”

As he talked, you sat up straight until your lips pulled in a scowl, “Waste? Yeah, right.”

You got up, ignoring the dizziness, and stepped out carefully to reach for a towel. His eyes were so intense they could have been marking you like a branding iron.

You couldn’t have imagined how furious you were making him, “Yes, waste! You have time. Don’t you want to do something with it?”

You wrapped yourself in a towel and laughed, “Not all of us are meant to amount to something.”

He snickered, “Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, not all of you have everything money can buy, safety, and health,” he pointed out gravely and you raised your chin.

“It doesn't matter.”

“No?” He sneered.

“No,” you said, dryly and confidently. “When you’re proud of nothing, attached to nothing, and have no meaning… you lose purpose.”

His expression softened for the first time and you looked away. You were not afraid to tell him what you felt deep down, but you were conscious about him seeing your demons. By the look on his face, you wondered if he had all along.

“You have things you’re passionate about,” he voiced simply, all anger gone.

Your mouth filled with bile, “No. I tried,” you admitted bitterly, crossing your arms over your chest. “It was maybe the only thing I tried doing for myself aside from summoning you. My parents didn’t approve. A music career is not exactly at the level of an Ivy League degree,” you smirked, shaking your head at the memory of that fight. “I thought I could prove them wrong. I thought I could become a big shot, with or without their support. I couldn't.”

You stopped talking; a huge lump in your throat was filling your eyes with tears. The memories you would like to forget were resurfacing and you hugged yourself. You could have asked for him to take them away… but you didn’t.

“They hurt you.”

You looked at him and your eyes filled to the brim. Yet you chuckled, “Isn’t that what everyone does? Use and abuse?” You rubbed your face harshly before you could break, “Isn’t that what you experienced as well?”

“Yes, but that was not what ruined me.”

You overlooked the surprise at the fact that he answered you and that you were even having this conversation. “What was?”

“Drugs and alcohol.”

You chuckled and nodded; those had been your escape and they certainly made you pliable, stupid, and vulnerable.

“But you… You’ve given up before trying.”

His voice was the gentlest you had ever heard from him but you still frowned, “I tried.”

Your anguish was threatening to asphyxiate you, but he added, “And gave up.”

You grimaced, you couldn’t breathe, “You have no idea—”

A sob cut you off and you trembled with the unspoken agitation repressed deep inside you.

He nodded, “I know. I know it broke you, but don’t let it. You’re not defined by how a few assholes treated you in the past. You’re more than other’s opinions, more than a period you’re not proud of, more than any addiction.”

You gritted your teeth so hard as he spoke that they clicked, “How would you know that?”

“You sold your soul to me,” he said calmly, eyeing your trembling figure knowingly. “What do you think I bought?”

You quivered under his gaze and wiped your cheek off the runaway tears. Beyond the turmoil that topic created inside you, you were aware of what he was saying. Aware that he knew you inside and out, that he would own you, and that he wouldn’t have this conversation if he didn’t see more for you. But you couldn’t have hope, you couldn’t believe it. It would shatter you if you did and you weren’t ready — you had just found such a precarious balance. You couldn’t unravel and let it all go to waste.

“If not a phone, then I have another request,” your voice cracked but in a second your eyes were void of emotion as your features stiffened. You couldn’t grasp how far he could see inside you, or how much he knew you, but as he straightened his shoulders, you assumed it was a lot. He knew of your nightmares extensively, so when the thought came to your mind, he knew you meant it. His cold eyes told you he knew what it was before you opened your mouth, “I want my parents to suffer.”

As soon as you said it, anger shook your balling fists. You let yourself blame them, hate them for your circumstances, for your story, for your pain. You never asked to be born. Was it so hard to support their only daughter in this hell of a world? If they had been there—

“Destroy their estate.” You said with a stiff jaw, remembering the number of times they had chosen work over you. Every time you had gone to them to be dismissed, every time you tried voicing a dream and were laughed at, and every time after that they just let you do shit freely. “It’s time they lose the only thing they care about.”

“They care about you.”

“They threw me away,” you countered with venomous eyes.

“Maybe they didn’t expect you to summon a demon and have all of your problems swept away…” he leaned back against the sink; his air of nonchalance didn’t soothe you one bit.

You were already triggered, “They didn’t expect it?” A sardonic laugh passed your lips, “Sure, I guess they didn’t. So isn’t it weird they didn’t contact me all this time?”

“Maybe they don’t know how to.”

“They just have to fucking google my name!” You exploded, throwing your fists in the air. “They don’t do it because they don’t care!”

“Or maybe because you wouldn’t welcome them.”

Your fists fell numb beside your legs and you eyed him with bloodshot eyes. He was a demon; maybe this was part of the torture. “I wouldn’t, but it shouldn’t matter. You think they should only reach out on the premise they can be white knights and save my pathetic life? No. Caring about someone is—” Your voice shook, realizing what you were about to say to the very demon that taught you that. He waited for you to finish speaking your mind. “Letting them live on their own terms. Helping them go through it, maybe preventing them from making some shitty decisions, but sticking by them regardless because—”

Tears streamed down your face and you had to turn around. You couldn’t say those things to his face, you were afraid he’d see through you. See who you were thinking about.

You sniffled and wiped your face before turning again, “They should care. Whether I’m fucked, alive or dead, they should fucking care and they don’t.”

He took a second to consider what you said, or maybe he was just giving you time to calm down. “Caring isn’t only shown by reaching out. People make mistakes in trying to demonstrate their feelings, especially when they’re hurt and desperate.”

His dark eyes were piercing you to your soul and your tears overflowed again. You smirked for a moment before hiding your face to clean them again. This bastard was not going to make it any easier for you.

“They had my whole life to show they cared. Instead, they left me alone.”

“Why were you alone?”

You blinked your heavy and wet lashes with the memory of being shooed away. Your mother was lying on a bed with lines attached to her and with people in white coats all around her.

“My mom was sick for a long time,” you remembered. “She… she couldn’t have more children.”

You looked down; your stupidity echoed behind your eyelids.

Maybe you should have had more kids.

You heaved a deep breath and rubbed your eyes. What a dick you were. It didn’t matter that you were high, you were such an asshole. They had been bastards too for staying absent your whole life, and you guessed the apple didn't fall far from the tree. Maybe more kids would have meant you wouldn't be the only one screwed up. You chuckled, that might have been better.

You looked up at him and wondered if things could have been different. If you had summoned him earlier, you could have wished for your mother to be healthy. Maybe that would have changed everything.

His impenetrable eyes didn’t blink once while you considered all this, and you looked down again. You wouldn’t have ever been at a crossroads selling your soul if things hadn’t gotten so shitty. There was nothing you could do about that now.

“Not their entire estate. Just— A branch of the family business.”

“It will cost you.”

You nodded, “It should.”

He sighed, “I’ll see what I can do.”

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