#fe's fic recs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blue-aconite · 1 year ago

Text

Reblogging in the spirit of autumn and spooky season who is upon us!

This fic is so incredible well written and it's worth your time! I love it a whole lot ♥️

—𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀

x-files!au jake seresin x f!reader

summary: something wicked this way comes on the night you find yourself stuck at the motel california with your work partner, jake seresin.

wc: 12.7k

warning(s): 18+ for sensitive subject matter, fem!reader, no y/n (reader goes by nickname pumpkin), language, mentions of paranormal entities, implications of self harm/suicide, brief violence, alcohol and drinking

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!

find it on ao3

a/n: if you're familiar with teen wolf, yes this is also loosely based on the motel california episode of s3. a huge ty to @blue-aconite for being my rock throughout this entire process. i couldn't have done it without you <;3

Of all the moments in your career, none have felt quite as humiliating as this. You have shed your own blood, sweat, and tears just to even be respected in your field. Right when you felt like you were finally coming up on top, Director Simpson threw a curve ball and sent you right to the basement. Your ex-partner laughed in your face at the news, making steam pour out of your ears.

The X-Files. Are you kidding? You are a highly skilled field agent and medical doctor–that’s one more thing than Director Simpson could say he was. Yet somehow, you were the one going down. Literally.

The X-Files was a department full of hallucinatory agents. Those who believed in aliens, the supernatural, and ghosts just to name a few of what they investigate. It was a joke department. One that was created to satisfy the pipe dream of passionate believers. Sending you down there felt like an insult to your intelligence.

The squeaks from the age old elevator as the doors opened to the dusty and dimly lit hallway was enough for you to know this probably wasn’t the most highly decorated department. With a steady gulp, you make your way down the hall. Dodging agents running around like headless chickens has you clutching your suitcase closer to your chest. Your eyes scan each room, looking for the director’s office.

Someone bumps you on the shoulder, making you yelp. Meanwhile, they drop all their files onto the floor.

You let out a soft “oh,” dropping to your knees to help the flustered agent.

“I am so sorry, ma’am,” he breathes.

Despite your annoyance, you could tell that the man was genuine, and your attitude softens slightly. “It’s alright,” you reassured him with a soft smile. Picking up the rest of his stray papers, you’re able to get a better look at the man. He had boyish features and a buzzcut. He was probably the same age as you, maybe even a couple years younger. He had the look of fresh meat, making your hardened exterior falter. “Agent…”

His eyes flit up to meet yours with a smile.“Garcia, ma’am. Agent Mickey Garcia.”

You hold out a hand which he grasps in friendly greeting. “Nice to meet you, Agent Garcia. Are you new here?”

A shaky exhale leaves him as he lets go of your hand and takes the rest of his papers from you. He runs a hand over his short hair. “That obvious?”

A sympathetic look graces your features. “Just a smidge.”

He groans, throwing his head back.

“Hey, it’s not a bad thing! We’ve all gotta start somewhere.” The sound of a phone ringing in the distance reminds you why you were down here in the first place. If you could spend the rest of your afternoon chatting with Garcia, you would. He was sweet. The kind of person you could find yourself befriending if not for the nature of your position. “Garcia, would you happen to know where Director Mitchell’s office is?”

He nods hurriedly at the name of his superior. “Absolutely. Follow me.”

You follow swiftly behind him as you weave your way through the various agents and file carts. A few of the male agents snickered and clearly looked you up and down as you walked by. Years of tolerating this behavior made you indifferent to their actions. Garcia said hello to a few of his fellow agents and blatantly ignored a few of the others who threw out teasing remarks to the man about his last assignment. You could tell it was a sensitive subject for him as the tips of his ears turned red and he ducked his chin to his sternum.

Finally reaching the end of the hall after what felt like an eternity, you are met face to face with the wooden door and golden plaque with the name “Mitchell” staring back at you.

Garcia gestures to the door. “Well, this is it. Good luck.” He gives you a half hearted thumbs up that did nothing to quell the anxiety bubbling in your system.

You nod, harshly trying to swallow the nerves that were crawling up your throat. “I hope to see you around, Garcia,” you’re just barely able to speak.

He turns over his shoulder with a bright smile and sound agreement before disappearing in the direction they came.

You hesitantly raise her fist to the door when a muffled, “Come in,” is voiced from the other side.

You push the door open with caution, unsure of what to suspect on the other side. You have only ever heard stories of the famed director, none that gave you any reassurance that your career was in good hands.

Director Mitchell despite being dressed in slacks and a button up work shirt looked like the most casual man in the department. A pair of aviators sat on his desk next to his badge that was haphazardly thrown onto the surface of his desk. You wrinkle your nose at the sight, not seeing this man as someone you could easily respect as a superior.

“I would say have a seat, but I don’t plan on keeping you here long,” the director puts it bluntly. “I’ve read your file. Incredibly impressive, to say the least.”

You straighten your posture and hold your head up high at his praise. “Thank you, sir.”

“Needless to say, I don’t see how your talents could be any more useful here as it is with the big dogs.” You could feel the underlying tone of his annoyance with the higher ups.

“I am thinking the same thing,” you dryly add.

He pushes off his desk with a large exhale and brings himself to his feet. “Well, whatever the reason, they sent you here. And lucky for you, I’ve got the perfect place to put you.” He beckons for you to follow him out the door.

Walking past him, you mutter bitterly under your breath, “Lucky me.”

Director Mitchell explains how the X-Files is an overlooked department in the FBI and continues to emphasize how they are not just a committee full of nut jobs. He drones on and on about the compelling evidence they have and if Director Simpson could just listen to his agents, they could be making history. You zone out halfway through his speech, watching the agents around you intently. Over in one of the board rooms were a group of agents who looked like they were in the midst of a playfully heated argument. You smile upon noticing one of the agents to be Garcia. Amongst them was a woman who looked like she could command a room with a single look. If there was anyone you were hoping to become good colleagues with, it was her. God knows you needed another woman to talk to down here.

Mitchell leads you to the last room. The door was already ajar and before even stepping into the room, you could tell it was a mess in there. There was red string and newspaper clippings everywhere. Sticky notes and photographs galore.

You can hear shuffling from inside the room as Director Mitchell steps in front of you and lets himself in with only a light knock.

“‘M busy, Pete,” a voice from inside the room says.

It’s deep, male with a hint of southern twang. The way he calls the director by his first name makes you uncomfortable. Director Simpson would never let that slide.

“Too busy to meet your new partner?” Mitchell teases.

The rustling stops and Pete steps aside so you can step into the room. You’re unable to hide your surprise as you step inside, glaring at him with questioning eyes. “I’m sorry, partner?”

The sound of your voice makes the man in the office straighten up. He crosses his arms over his chest and smirks as he leans against his desk. You could see him from the corner of your eyes but refuse to give him any acknowledgement.

“Director Simpson didn’t say anything about me having to work with anyone down here.”

The disgust was evident in your tone, yet the man’s smirk only grew into an amused grin.

Pete sighs. “With all due respect, agent, Director Simpson told me to place you where I think you’d be most fit. That being said, after everything I’ve read about you tells me you like working alone. I think you’ll find that working with Seresin might just change that.”

The man, Seresin, steps into your view and you can’t help the heat that rises up the back of your neck. He’s attractive, that’s for sure. His blond hair was slightly disheveled–almost like he has run his hands through it a couple of times. He had bright green eyes and a fit physique. If anything, the smug look on his face just infuriated you even more.

“Jake Seresin, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.” He holds out a hand that you ignore.

If looks could kill, Pete would be dead on the floor.

“I’ll leave you to it, I guess.” The director excuses himself with a pathetic shrug, knowingly escaping your wrath and leaving you for Jake to deal with.

You’re still glaring at him as you watch him go, not wanting to have to interact with your new partner.

“Well aren’t you just Miss Sugar, spice, and everything nice.” Jake’s voice cuts through your self loathing.

Your stare, now directed at him, cuts through him like a knife. “I hope you know I’m only doing this because Director Simpson sent me here and not because I want to be here. Especially with you.”

He laughs, causing your blood to boil even more. “Alright, pumpkin, no need to be so defensive.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped back.

Jake holds his hands up in surrender, shaking his head with a laugh before settling back into his work on his desk. “We are going to have one hell of a time together, Agent. I can feel it.”

If only you could figure out a way to transfer out of here before your first case.

Two years later and you were still partners with Jake Seresin. All it took was one case and an insane amount of coincidences to get you to stay. You are a skeptic to say the least. Despite everything you’ve seen, you continue to go on these cases with Jake in an attempt to prove that there must be some scientific explanation for everything. Every time without fail, you are proven wrong, but you aren’t one to give up. So here you are, still in the X-Files department and still going on crazy cases with Jake.

Your original dislike for the man turned into fond admiration, and eventually friendship. Jake was smart, smarter than you gave him credit for. You judged him too soon upon meeting him, assuming that just like everyone else, he was just another nut job in his department. However, you soon came to understand that no one in the X-Files department were nut jobs. Only curious agents with curious minds. You’ve even come to respect them and their many far fetched theories for the unexplainable cases you investigate.

Here you are two years later and still investigating the impossible. But if you were being totally honest? You wouldn’t have it any other way. What you once thought to be a careless mistake, ended up becoming the best two years of your life.

“Jake and Pumpkin at it again. Solving cases one supernatural entity at a time,” Jake’s comment breaks through the silence of the car.

You laugh, rolling your eyes at his words. “Solving cases? Absolutely. Supernatural entities? Well…”

Jake glances at you bewildered, before focusing his gaze back on the road. “What? Oh come on, darling, you mean to say even after everything we’ve been through you still think the supernatural isn’t real?”

A playful grin tugs at your lips as you turn to see Jake smiling. “Hey, all I’m saying is that there is a scientific explanation for everything.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes at you. “Alright, killjoy, way to ruin my fun. Jake and Pumpkin at it again. Solving cases one scientific explanation at a time.” Jake cringes, making you chuckle. “See? Now that just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“We can agree to disagree.”

“Don’t we always?” Jake sends you a quick wink and you have to bite your lip and look out the window to stop yourself from the school girl giggles that threaten to leave you.

Jake was a charmer. From the beginning, his suave and confident attitude made you want to rip your hair. Now, it was something that made your cheeks warm and your heart flutter. However, you made sure he would never catch onto that fact. He gets his ego stroked enough by Pete and the unassuming people you meet on investigations.

You were still riding a post-case high and you just weren’t ready to head back to the office. You hum thoughtfully, causing Jake to look at you with a raised brow. “I’m in the mood for a celebratory drink, Mr. Seresin. What do you think?”

The mischievous grin on his face told you everything that he was thinking. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea, Pumpkin.”

You loved to travel. Your favorite thing about being sent all over the U.S. for cases was discovering the small town charms along the way. More specifically, the dive bars. Celebratory drinks became a tradition for you and Jake after your first successful investigation together. The two of you would stop at the first dive bar you’d find and spend the night with a drink or two before heading back to the office or hotel you were spending the night in.

Tonight, you found a rustic little dive bar in the middle of the desolate road in California. There wasn’t much around other than a few little establishments and it was clear that the next big city was at least a dozen miles away.

Jake was nearly done with the beer he has been nursing since the beginning of your visit. Meanwhile, you were just starting round three of another tequila lime and coke. He was intently keeping an eye on you, just in case you decided to pass out on him.

He loved seeing you like this, all rambly and carefree from the alcohol. He loved working with you, but you could be so stiff and orderly that he took advantage of the moments where he got to see you so unabashedly yourself. He did everything he could to make you feel comfortable enough to be yourself around him. It took some time for him to crack you open, especially with how set you were on shutting him out. But he was patient. Before you could even realize what he was doing, he slowly ended up building up your trust in him all while chipping at the walls you’ve put up to keep him away. To his surprise, he immediately fell in love with the woman he found underneath. He knew it was a slippery slope, working with you while feeling the way he did. It could compromise your partnership if you ever found out, as well as his judgment out in the field.

Bradley had warned him against his feelings towards you. It hurt, but he was right. If you ever found out, you would probably never want to work with him again.

But he couldn’t help it. The two of you worked so well together and you understood him and his thoughts more than anyone he has ever worked with. The two of you were a team and he never wanted to work with anyone else. He never wanted to be with anyone else.

So he kept quiet. If keeping quiet meant keeping you here, then he would stay this way forever. At least until he knew if you felt the same way.

There were moments in your partnership when Jake swore you felt the same way about him. But these moments were fleeting–disappearing just as fast as they came. By the time Jake was able to notice them, you were already pulling away and going back to your hardened “work and no funny business” exterior.

They were moments like you reaching out for his hand when things got a little too intense. Your eyes scanning for him whenever the two of you get separated in the field. The smaller, more intimate moments where you’d share with him a piece of yourself that no one else knew.

These were the moments that had him holding on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, you felt the spark between you two that everyone else could blatantly see.

“Do you think we could take one of these shot glasses back home, Jake? I think Reuben would really like one of these.” You examined one of the lone shot glasses on the bar top, holding it up to the light.

There wasn’t anything special about it. It was just a regular old shot glass that you could find almost anywhere. But in your buzzed state, the shot glass looked nothing but special.

He smiles softly, replaying the word home in the back of his mind. Not back to the office, but back home. The way you said it made it sound like Jake was going back to your home with you. Oh, how much he wished that was true.

Jake shakes his head, gently taking the glass from your fingers and setting back on the table. “I don’t think so, darling. This one belongs to the fine gentleman who owns the bar.”

A small pout crosses your lips making Jake feel like his heart was thumping out of his rib cage. Oh, he was a goner.

“Besides, I think Reuben has enough shot glasses to attend to the whole department.”

“I guess so,” you sigh softly, before going back to sipping at your drink.

The slightly dejected look on your face makes his face fall and before he can even process what he’s doing, Jake’s grabbing your hand delicately in his. “But maybe we can stop at a gas station on our way back and buy him an even cooler glass. How does that sound?”

Your eyes light up and Jake takes pride in his mission accomplished. You don’t seem to notice that your hand is still in Jake’s and you don’t find it in you to care.

Jake wants to trap this moment in a bottle forever. There were barely any patrons left in the bar other than you two and a couple stragglers. But to him, it felt like it was just you and him. There was no need for him to be bothered by the rest of the world.

The bartender clearing his throat breaks Jake from his trance. “You and your lady best be going now, son. It looks like the storm’s getting pretty bad out there. Don’t want the two of you getting stranded on the road.”

Jake glances out the window to see that the man was right. He could barely see the night sky through the dark clouds overhead and the wind as well as the downpour was starting to pick up. You were still happily sipping your drink when Jake carefully pries your cup from your hand and pays off the rest of your tab. You let out a little whine in protest, but comply when Jake points out the storm brewing outside.

The bartender gives you a bottle of water to take with you so you can sober up and help keep yourselves safe on the road. Jake, ever the gentleman, shrugs off his jacket and holds it over your head as the two of you run into the rain. He holds it above you as you get into the car before he hurries over to the driver's side.

The rain seemed to be more than enough to have the effects of the alcohol wearing off as you’re instantly turned back into your level-headed self.

You’re cursing under your breath as you lamely hold your phone up to the roof of the car in search of some cell service.

“Nothing?” Jake asks after trying his own luck.

You shake your head with a worried frown on your face. Jake holds out his hand and you get the message immediately, swapping phones and trying again. You knew it was silly and you’d probably end up with the same results, but it was worth a try.

Even with Jake’s phone, you’re unable to get even one bar of service. Jake’s luck seems to be much better than yours as a soft “a-ha!” leaves his lips as he holds your phone awkwardly in front of the rear view mirror.

“You got something?” You lean over to get a look at your phone.

“It’s a bit slow, but I’ve got it.” He pauses waiting for the directions to load. “Here, Motel California.”

“You mean like the song?”

The innocence of your question makes him smile. “That’s Hotel California, darling.” He tilts the phone so you can get a better view. A glimpse of the preview pictures of the motel made the both of your faces drop. “Well, she ain’t pretty, but at least she’s something.”

You only shrug in agreement. “I guess we have stayed in worse places.”

“Here, how about you–” Jake is cut off by the sound of your phone chiming. He doesn’t mean to snoop, but the message is right in front of his face.

It was a text from Pete.

Are you sure you want to go through with your transfer?

Jake’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach. He has never felt as hurt and betrayed as he did at this moment. “Transfer? What transfer?”

Your face falls at Jake’s venom laced words. You have heard him speak this way before–to colleagues who disrespected you at work and even friends who took a joke a step too far– but you have never been on the receiving end of his malice. You know you’ve been caught and you have nothing to say to justify it without giving yourself away. “Jake, I was going to tell you.”

He drops your phone in the cup holder between the two of you. His face stern as he starts the car and begins driving.

“Jake,” you start, already feeling the regret seep into your bones.

“Don’t.” His grip on the steering wheel tightens and so does his jaw.

“Jake, please. I was going to tell you, I swear–”

“When? After you get transferred?” He scoffs, his anger fading into disappointment. Jake whispers your name. For the first time since you met him two years ago, he called you by your name. Not Pumpkin, or sweetheart, or darling. “And to think I was proud to call you my partner. I thought we were good together. Clearly I was the only one.”

“Jake,” you beg. “You know that’s not true.”

He holds a hand up, silently telling you to stop. If you say anything else he might say something he doesn’t mean. “Just read me the directions. I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Respecting his request, you shove down the cries that want to escape you and reach for your phone, weakly directing him to the motel.

He was quiet tonight. It was another case solved thanks to you and Jake and you were celebrating with a pitcher of beer at one of the honky tonk bars you stumbled upon in the city.

And Jake was never quiet. Especially after an investigation. He usually talked your ear off about how impressed he was with your skills and you would roll your eyes and give him an equal amount of appreciation. Or he would be going on about the supernatural phenomenon the both of you had just witnessed while you try to debunk it all with scientific jargon.

The two of you landed an investigation in Texas and on the way there, you have never seen your partner as excited as he was on the plane ride. You thought Jake would already be on the dance floor because this was his element. Suddenly it was like a switch flipped, and he was no longer comforted by the essence of home. Now he looked like he was ready to take the first flight out of there.

You desperately wracked your mind through the events of the past few days, nitpicking every moment you spent with him. You were hoping you could find the moment where his childlike excitement turned to absolute dread.

It hit you then–the moment he changed. The abandoned warehouse on 5th Street where you ran into one of his old colleagues, Daniel Callaghan. Callaghan’s department was also doing some investigating of their own, causing you guys to cross paths.

Callaghan was the type of man you were attracted to in your field. Tall, level headed, believed facts over fiction. He was everything Jake was not. Maybe in another time, you would have found yourself gravitating towards someone like Callaghan, but not this time. Instead, you saw him as arrogant, stuck up, and a misogynist when it came to his comments about you.

You had only responded to him with a scoff and the finger to which Callaghan found amusing. Jake, on the other hand, wasn’t as pleased and told Callaghan to knock it off. That made the tension between the two skyrocket, leaving you in the middle of what felt like a masculinity contest.

You were just about ready to leave, gently grasping Jake’s forearm and motioning for him to follow you out. The two of you were nearly out of earshot when Callaghan called out your name.

“Be careful with him out there, Pumpkin.” The way he says your nickname, the one only ever reserved for Jake’s lips alone, makes you feel nauseous. “They don’t call him the Hangman for nothing.”

Jake had tensed in your hold and since that encounter, he hadn’t been the same.

You wanted your bubbly and enthusiastic partner back, not whoever this was in his place.

You clear your throat in an attempt to catch Jake’s attention. His gaze stays concentrated on the ring of condensation forming around his cup.

You turn your body to face him instead. Reaching a hand out, you ghost it over his shoulder. You barely touch him when you’re pulling back like he burned you.

After a moment of deep contemplation you finally ask him, point blank. “What’s going on with you?”

He looks up, feigning confusion. “Nothing. Why?” His eyes darted back to the glass in his hand.

“Bullshit.” You take the cup from his hands, eliciting a gasp of surprise from him.

He knew you could be blunt when you wanted to be. Jake should’ve known you would notice something was going on with him. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, Pumpkin.”

His words make you frown. Why was he so adamant on shutting you out after trying so hard to pry you open? “Hey, do you remember what you told me on the first case we worked together? You told me that we need to learn how to trust each other because we’re partners and partners have got each other’s backs. Always. This is me having your back, Jake.” You sigh, looking into his green eyes that looked glossy under the lights. “I’m not the easiest person to talk to or be around sometimes. But you’ve taught me that opening up to people isn’t the worst thing in the world. I know that you trust me out there, so please, trust me here too.”

Jake wished he could tell you he wasn’t acting the way he was because he didn’t trust you. No, that wasn’t it at all. He trusted you with his entire being. There was no doubt about that. It’s what was bothering him that had him drawing away from you. He didn’t want you to see him differently. He didn’t want you to think you couldn’t trust him anymore. The guilt that courses through him is overwhelming. When he told you to trust him on that first day together, it was because he didn’t want you to see him like everyone else did. He wanted to make sure that you knew, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. If he tells you what’s on his mind, you’re going to doubt everything he ever told you.

The way you’re looking at him, with soft eyes and a gentle smile, makes his icy exterior melt. You always managed to make him feel like you could see right through him. After confessing what’s on his mind, things between you two might never be the same. Jake won’t blame you for it though. This was all on him. Him and Callaghan for opening his stupid mouth.

He knows he won’t be able to fool you. So he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for imminent loss.“I know you heard what Callaghan called me. Are you not wondering what he meant by that?”

The genuine confusion on your face makes his chest ache even more. “What, Hangman? I mean I heard him, but I didn’t think much of it.”

Jake won’t meet your eye, not when he’s making this part of him known. “Hearing that name, being called that again sent me back to a time I wish I could forget. Callaghan reminded me that no matter how hard I try, I’m still the guy I was four years ago.”

“Who were you, Jake?”

The rain still hadn’t stopped when you arrived at the motel. Even in his anger, Jake was ever the gentleman–opening the car door for you and shielding you from the downpour with his jacket. However, he hadn’t looked at you nor spoken a word to you once since the revelation that you may be transferring departments.

You hated yourself for keeping this from him. You swore you were going to tell him, you were just waiting for the right time. Unfortunately that time never came, and Pete beat you to it. The look of betrayal and hurt on Jake’s face upon receiving the news was enough to make you reconsider your decision. In all honesty, you were still undecided on where you stood with the idea of transferring. From Jake’s outright dismissal of your presence, you found it harder to decide.

The sound of someone calling your name, pulls you from your thoughts as you see Jake looking at you with a frown. You never thought it was possible to crave someone’s smile as much as you do now. You missed the way his eyes would crinkle at the corners and light up like a child on Christmas morning and the adorable dimple on the left side of his lips that you most definitely did not think about every single night before bed. A whole hour hasn’t even passed since the drive from the bar and yet you found yourself missing him as if he has been gone for months.

Instead he continued to stare at you with that stoic expression on his face, one you only saw once back when you were in Texas. There was only one other person you could remember that Jake faced with that expression and it made you sick knowing you might just be the second one.

All he did was beckon for you with a nod of his head as you quickly thanked the employee at the front desk, who barely acknowledged you, before scurrying after Jake.

Waiting for the elevator timidly behind Jake gave you a moment to fully take in your surroundings. You were so focused on Jake that you hardly realized he had already checked you both into the motel and that you had been in the lobby for a good ten minutes.

You’ve been to a lot of unsettling places since the beginning of your partnership with Jake. Each with their own feelings of heaviness, despair, and discomfort from the supposed entities that inhabited the space. You blamed it on your own psychological expectations of the places, but this time you had nothing to blame it on other than your own feelings of unease.

You shifted on your heels behind Jake, clutching your overnight bag tighter over your shoulder. The hairs on the back of your neck rose at the sudden chill that overcame your body. Strange that only the back of your neck felt cold, compared to the rest of you that was burning up. It was almost as if a hand brushed against your neck with ice cold fingertips.

Looking over your shoulder, you expect to see a fan or perhaps an A/C unit but you are met with nothing but the wall. You feel the prick at your neck once more, only this time, your heart rate begins to speed up as you suddenly feel like you were being watched. You shake your head, reminding yourself that it was just your imagination. With the way motel management clearly hadn’t bothered to renovate the place since the 60s, you forced yourself to believe that it was merely an old building. Nothing more.

Yet the itch to reach out and hang onto Jake’s arm for comfort didn’t cease, even as you reassured yourself that it was all in your head.

The elevator ride to the third floor was filled with heavy silence. The unease you carried didn’t leave you even as you left the ground floor. It seemed to have followed you into the elevator and all the way up.

The strength of the feeling made your arms prick with goosebumps as you followed Jake with your chin down, staring intently at the backs of his heels.

Jake makes an abrupt stop at the end of the hallway and if it weren’t for your hyper fixated gaze on his shoes, you probably would have ran right into his back. He takes a heavy sigh before turning to glance over his shoulder at you.

His green eyes, void of emotion, meet yours. “The concierge said they only had one room left for the night, so we’re gonna have to share.”

You swallow the urge to scoff at the blatant lie that the motel only had one room available, for it was evident that the place was hardly full by their near empty parking lot. You keep this thought to yourself and nod, not wanting to give Jake another reason to be upset at you.

Stepping into the room, your nose wrinkles at the smell of stale wood and moist mold. You’re hesitant to even lay your bag onto the armchair that sat in the corner of the room. That also looked like it hadn’t been touched in years.

You hear Jake gently close the door behind you and take in the room as well. He has the exact same reaction as you–his face twisting into a sour expression before letting out a frustrated sigh.

An awkward laugh leaves your lips in an attempt to lighten the unsaveable somber mood. “At least you’ll have the bed to yourself.”

Jake’s brows furrow at your insinuation and he shakes his head in disagreement. “What makes you think I’m gonna let you sleep on the floor?”

You shrug. “What makes you think I would let you sleep on the floor?”

Sharing a room with Jake wasn’t unknown territory. Sharing a room with one bed however, was a different story.

“Yeah, no. That’s not happening. I’m sleeping on the floor and that’s final.” Jake’s hands rest on his hips like a mother scolding her children. His stance makes you giggle, pulling a small smile to his lips.

The previous air that surrounded the two of you seemed to dissipate, if only for a little bit. You would take what you could get, wishing what happened hours ago was magically wiped from Jake’s memory.

“Seriously? You’ve been complaining about your back hurting for weeks now! The floor isn’t going to make you feel any better.” You mimic his posture, desperate to get another smile out of him.

His lips grow wider. “Well, what do you suggest we do then? My ma would kill me if she ever found out I let a lady sleep on a motel floor.”

Fiddling with your fingers, you try your last attempt at extending an olive branch of apology towards him. “I mean, we could always…” You trail off, figuring that he would understand what you’re suggesting.

You regret the moment the words leave your mouth because the look on Jake’s face falls back into that guarded disposition.

The lightness of before disappears just as fast as it came, making the weight on your shoulders drop. You silently curse yourself, wishing you had just shut your mouth and kept quiet.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” His gaze darts to the floor. “Take the bed. I’ll be fine on the floor.”

You step forward, ready to argue once more, when he scurries quickly into the bathroom and shuts the door roughly behind him. You settled at the foot of the bed, burying your face in your hands in an attempt to stop the tears that threatened to fall down your cheeks.

In the end, this was your fault. You were the one who was a coward. The one who ran away when things got scary. When things got real. You’d think Jake’s withdrawal from you would be a good thing–that it would lessen the pain of you leaving. But just because you had wanted to leave did not mean you wanted to cut off his friendship. Now, you didn’t even have that.

You couldn’t sleep knowing that you were marked. You had stayed up all night last night just trying to put together some rational explanation for the sudden appearance of scars on the back of your neck but it was no use. Whatever this was, science couldn’t provide you any comfort.

Even so, you still wouldn’t believe in whatever it was that Jake thought was going around killing innocent women. He swore up and down that it was some paranormal entity with ill intentions. He even went as far as saying it might be a demon.

That made you scoff and roll your eyes until you woke up with the same mark that was found on the five victims’ bodies before their deaths. You knew a lot about coincidence, but this was a pattern. No matter how the mark had gotten onto your skin, the evidence just shows that you were next. You were going to die.

A soft knock on your door makes your heart jump out of its ribcage. You clumsily reach for the first thing you find to defend yourself and raise it over your shoulder. The paranoia was getting to you and you didn’t even think of checking through the peephole before throwing open the door and swinging at the person on the other side.

“Pumpkin, hey! It’s just me!” Jake stood at your door in nothing but an old t-shirt and flannel pants as he ducked and backed away from your swinging arm. “Put the lamp down, you’re okay.”

You hardly register Jake’s voice, keeping your arm raised trepidatiously.

His lips tilt down as he takes a step forward with his hands in front of him. “It’s okay, I promise,” he speaks gently. Jake nods, slowly reaching out to take the lamp from your grip.

Your hand tightens when he tugs on it and he nods reassuringly, using his other hand to delicately cup your cheek.

At the contact, you release a long breath, dropping your shoulders and letting him completely take your makeshift weapon away from you.

He ushers you inside and carefully closes the door so he doesn’t startle you. Jake felt like something was wrong with you after finding out about the mark. No matter how many times you reassured him you were fine, even playing the skeptic card didn’t stop him from seeing the genuine fear in your eyes.

Jake knew your relationship with the work the two of you did was complicated. Despite everything you’ve seen, you weren’t exactly a believer of the explanations behind the cases you solved. You helped Jake with the investigations and the small details he tended to miss, but in the end he was the one who called the case a supernatural occurrence. You balanced him out in a way, pointing out when he was too far gone and more logical reasonings sat right in front of him. Other times you challenged him and forced him to think outside the box. The two of you work in harmony together, making each other one hell of a team.

But not once since the start of your partnership, had Jake ever seen you this shaken up. He was afraid that you were going to shut him out again because of it. Jake knew more than anyone how paralyzing fear could become. He knew how lonely being afraid could be. Which is why he found himself knocking on your door in the dead of night. Unbeknownst to you, you weren’t the only one experiencing fear.

When Jake found out that you were marked, he had never felt such intense fear and worry in his life. Hearing stories of being marked was one thing, experiencing it with someone he cared dearly about was another.

The dark purple hue beneath your eyes and your lack of attentiveness didn’t go unnoticed by Jake. No matter how much you tried to play off your worry, he could see right through you. Jake always could.

“Pumpkin…” he starts, eyes sad and full of concern.

“I’m fine, Jake.” You could feel his stare on the back of your head but you refuse to acknowledge him.

“It’s okay not to be, God knows I’m not,” Jake admits, taking another step closer to you. He needs you to know that you’re not alone in this.

That makes you scoff. “Why? You’re mark free. You have nothing to worry about in the first place. Being a man and all, because when do men have to worry about anything?”

Jake stays silent, letting you stew in your anger. You have every right to be angry, he doesn’t blame you for taking it out on him. In fact, he lets you.

You tighten your grip against the old wooden desk in front of you, staring at the makeshift evidence board you’ve created in your room. “Did you know that just because I’m a woman, I’m already more likely to be a target for a murder? And that’s discounting my occupation. Even now, whoever or whatever is leaving behind a string of bodies is targeting women. And we don’t even know what’s causing these deaths. It is so horrid just thinking that even these so-called supernatural forces, that we have no scientific explanations for, have some kind of vendetta towards women. So if you came here to sympathize with me and tell me some bullshit about understanding what I’m going through, you can leave. Because you don’t. You never will.”

Jake lets your words seep into him, trying to fully understand where all of your hurt is coming from. He has two younger sisters, both of which he loved and protected fiercely from the world because of the absence of his father. He knew how scary the world could be for them, but you were right, he would truly never understand it to the extent that you guys would. He wishes there was something he could do or say to make things better, but there’s not. There isn’t a thing in the world that would make any of this better.

Instead, he sauntered over to where you stand in front of the desk, eyeing your evidence board carefully. “There’s something missing here,” Jake taps the wall with the knuckle of his finger. “Between the woman’s time of death and when the authorities actually find the body. The body looks so… different from what’s actually described as her cause of death.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll be able to figure that out when it happens to me,” you grumble before running a hand down your face and collapsing onto the edge of your bed.

Your despair and hopelessness is what breaks him. Jake gets on his knees in front of you and pulls your hands away from your face, firmly gripping onto your knees. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare even think it. We’re going to figure this out, okay? You and me. I will figure this out if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Jake…”

“No, hey, listen.” He is stern. Stern, yet gentle in his words. “We’re partners and we’ve got each other’s backs, remember? I’m not just going to let you die. It’s you and me, always.”

Tired of fighting your exhaustion and denying just how terrified you are, your facade breaks–and so does the dam holding your tears at bay. Reaching to hold onto his hands tighter, you sob softly, “You promise?”

“I promise, Pumpkin.”

That’s all it takes for you to slide off the bed and onto your knees as you fall into Jake’s chest. Your shoulders shake in fear, but also relief from being in Jake’s arms. There was no certainty in his statement, yet you believed him wholeheartedly. For some reason you had faith that he would figure this out. That he wouldn’t leave you alone in this.

Jake shushes you softly, cradling your head on his shoulder and rubbing a comforting hand up and down your back. He meant every word he said. He would go through hell and back if it meant keeping you from harm’s way. Though neither of you would admit it, you guys needed each other. In the field and off of it.

Ever since you walked into his life, it was as if his career didn’t exist before you. He had no recollection of how he used to work when you weren’t his partner. The only thing he could see was you by his side for everything. Jake wished he could tell you this upright, but he’s afraid of scaring you away even more.

But with the way you held his shirt tighter, it gave him the slightest bit of hope that maybe you needed him just as much as he needed you.

You wake to the sound of thunder rattling the room. Out of pure instinct your hand shoots to the back of your neck, rubbing your thumb back and forth on the marred skin there. It was some kind of defense mechanism you had developed since the incident. A lame attempt at protecting yourself, you assumed.

Turning over onto your side, you blindly grab for your phone on the bedside and squint your eyes to view the time.

3:39am

A groan escapes you, as you roll onto your back and throw an arm over your eyes. Another crash of thunder makes your heart jump and you jolt up. You’re breathing heavily as you pull your covers up to your chest. It was just thunder. There was no need for you to be so afraid. After releasing a deep sigh, you lay back down on your side. Curious to see if Jake had woken up from the commotion outside, you peek over the side of the bed only to be met with Jake’s vacant makeshift bed.

The bathroom door was wide open and you doubted that he was out on the balcony. With your room key in hand, you don’t even think twice before bolting out of bed in nothing but your pajamas and into the hallway.

The yellow hallway lights are blinding at first glance and you attempt to blink yourself awake. “Jake?” You call out into the hallway, not caring for waking up any other guests of the motel. Worry for your partner clouded your better judgment and you found yourself running down the hall with no clue where you were going.

Movement in your peripheral has you swiftly turning towards the second outlet of the hallway where you see Jake walking away.

“Jake!” You continue to follow him. He doesn’t even flinch at the sound of his name, and your worry is quickly replaced with anger. You knew he was probably still mad at you from the sudden news of your transfer, but he was being an immature asshole for making you chase him down a hallway.

You pick up your pace, following after him with newfound determination. When you got your hands on him you swore you were going to give him a piece of your mind. No matter how fast you walk, however, the further it seemed that you got from him. It was as if the hallway was stretching in size, progressively getting longer the closer you got to Jake.

That feeling of dread, the one that prickled at the skin of your neck and made your hands clammy took over. That feeling that told you something was wrong. You were suddenly snapped into work mode, your senses more alert than ever.

Those eyes you thought you felt on you earlier in the lobby returned, causing you to turn around to look for the culprit when you are met with nothing. A chill from behind you makes you whirl around again. Still, nothing.

“You can’t save him.”

The eerie whisper in your right ear sends you running. It sounded as ordinary as a whisper during the game of telephone, soft and deliberate. But it made you feel so unsettled that you thought you might vomit from all the nerves it ticked off.

You don’t look back as you rush down the hallway, brushing your fingertips across the scratchy red wallpaper to keep yourself grounded. To remind yourself that you were here and not in some twisted dream.

Too caught up in your desperation to escape, you remember the reason why you were out here in the first place.

Jake.

On cue, that disembodied voice echoes in your mind. “You can’t save him.”

Was Jake the one the voice was talking about? That you wouldn’t be able to save him? Save him from what?

You’re stuck. You swore you were going insane. You let your imagination run wild and now you were imagining things. All of Jake’s crazy stories were finally getting to you. And yet…

What if this wasn’t your imagination? What if Jake was really in trouble?

He would believe the voice and find you. That is what he’d do. He would follow his gut, and if there was anything you knew about Jake’s hunches it was that they were almost always right. You had to find him, even if this was your mind playing tricks on you, you had to go after him. It’s what he would do for you.

_________

Jake woke up to the sound of his name being called. He shot up from the floor, immediately knowing that voice. It was the voice that echoed through his head in his nightmares, the one that haunted him in the middle of the night–and it was the one that was calling out to him now.

“Jake!”

He hears its pleas clear as day, begging for him to come save them.

“Jake!”

Jake scrambles to his feet, not caring about his shoes nor grabbing his room key because the second Jake walks out that door, he is no longer in the motel. Rather, he is in a place he recognizes all too well.

Riley Mulder, his ex-partner, was screaming at him from the depths of the underground subway tunnel system they were investigating.

Strange activity and a mysterious substance running down the cement walls wasn’t enough to get their team on the case, it was the murder.

The victim, petrified in fear, like a statue in Medusa’s garden, lay paralyzed on the abandoned train tracks and covered in that mysterious goo.

The sounds of his partner echo again and Jake finds himself running towards the sound.

“Riley! Riley, I’m coming!” Jake shouts in a panic, sprinting down the dark tunnel.

Jake curses himself for not remembering to bring a flashlight with him as he stumbles over another rail.

He could see Riley’s silhouette in the distance, yet no matter how fast he ran, Jake didn’t seem to be getting any closer to him.

“Riley!” He calls again, tripping and falling onto the ground in full force.

Jake lands on something sticky beneath him and he picks up his hands to wipe it on his shirt. His heart jumps out of his chest at the sight below him.

It was Riley. His skin was ice cold, and he was frozen in a state of fear. His mouth was wide open and his hands were blocking his eyes—his eyes that Jake was sure would be hollow if he could see them.

He feels like he’s going to be sick as he scrambled as far away from him as possible.

The shadow of a person behind him causes him to look over his shoulder. The sight before him fills him with dread. “No,” he mutters. “No, Pumpkin, you gotta get out of here. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I’m here because of you,” you hiss. Your voice is filled with venom, harsh in a way that isn’t yours.

Deep down, he knows you aren’t really here. That he isn’t really here. But everything feels so real, throwing all rationale out the door. You are here. He is here. And you were right, it’s because of him.

“Riley is here because of you. Riley is dead because of you.” You take a menacing step closer to him as Jake shakes his head in fear. “Because you were too much of a coward to stick around. You left him behind, left him…hanging. That is how you got your nickname isn’t it? Hangman?”

Jake pales. Hearing that name out of your mouth, a name that he detests more than anything, hurts him. He remembers the night he told you with a heavy heart the origins of his nickname. He wasn’t proud of it, and he expected you to hate him for it. He wasn’t expecting for you to give him your full and complete trust. That was the night the two of you truly became partners. No more secrets, well, except one.

“No, that’s not what… I’m not–” he stutters. His heart pounds in his chest, as he takes another step backward. Why were you doing this? Why were you hurting him this way?

“How does it feel to be the one left out to dry, huh? Sorry I didn’t tell you about my transfer sooner. I just wanted to hurt you just as bad as you hurt Riley because you don’t deserve me, Jake Seresin. Being your partner is only going to get me killed and I know that. So I thought I’d save myself before you could.”

Jake shuts his eyes, bringing his fisted hands to his temples. “Stop,” he pleads. You were right. He knew you were right. But he didn’t think he’d ever actually hear you say it.

“You couldn’t save him and you can’t save me.”

The two of you are on the roof of a building now, startling Jake slightly. He watches you take a step towards the edge of the roof and his heart jumps. “Pumpkin, what are you doing?”

“This is all your fault,” you whisper, taking another step back.

He reaches out desperately, trying to hold onto your hand. “Please.”

Your wide eyes meet his and for a moment he swears your fingertips touched his. He tries to grab you, but you slip right through his fingers and right off the ledge.

Jake can’t hear anything other than his own screams as his knees hit the concrete.

“This is all your fault.” He picks up his head to see Riley’s face, gray and jaw wide open just like it was in his last moments.

This time, he’s not afraid. A feeling of calm washes over him suddenly. Acceptance of his fate. You were right. He doesn’t deserve you. He couldn’t even save you in the end. Now you were gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He couldn’t save Riley.

He couldn’t save you.

And there’s no one to save him.

“This is all my fault.”

“It’s okay, Jake,” Riley comforts him. “You can let go.”

Something compels him to stand on the ledge where you once were. Jake nods, taking in a deep breath before stepping forward. He’s no longer afraid.

_________________

If the exit door leading to the roof had not been flung wide open, you wouldn’t have even thought to check up there. What would Jake even be doing up there on the roof? You had no idea. But your gut was telling you something about this place wasn’t right and that you needed to grab Jake and get out of there as fast as possible.

You curse softly to yourself for not bothering to put on any shoes or even throwing on a jacket as the rain continued to pour outside. Jake didn’t have any on either, making you feel even more on edge than you thought possible.

Jake was always particular about those things. He claimed to have sensitive soles and would never be caught dead walking around in bare feet unless he was at the beach. Even then, his toes would curl up uncomfortably at the feeling of the individual grains rubbing against his skin.

Everything he did tonight was out of character and you doubted it was still because of the news of your transfer.

A shiver crawls its way up your spine upon setting your sights on Jake and it was not just because of the rain. The state he was in pulled a gasp from your lips as you raised a hand to cover your mouth. His back was turned to you so you could see the outline of his muscles through his soaking wet white sleep tee. As you recalled, he was barefoot as he stood on the ledge of the roof.

You didn’t understand what he was doing there so close to the edge. One wrong step and he would fall. You didn’t want to startle him into accidentally losing his balance so you carefully make your way forward until you’re standing right behind him.

Jake was still unaware of your presence as he continued to stand still. You apprehensively wrap your hand around his wrist and gently tug him back towards you. His body moves like a rag doll, almost as if he were in such a relaxed state that he was no longer controlling his limbs.

“Jake, what the hell are you doing out here?” You ask him as you use your other hand to grab his other arm and bring him down.

It was like his body was on autopilot as he followed your guidance robotically. Your heart starts to race at the sight of him. His green eyes were looking right back at you, however there was absolutely no recognition behind them. Almost like he didn’t even see you.

“Jake?” You call out once you notice he has started mumbling something under his breath.

You could barely hear him over the sound of the rain but you caught a string of words that sounded like, Riley, my fault, and let go.

Your heart drops to your stomach at the sound of his ex-partner’s name. You knew what happened with Riley and you knew that Jake still felt guilty about it no matter how much you tried to convince him that it wasn’t his fault.

“Jake?” You say again, with much more force this time. Cupping his face in your hands, you lightly shake him, desperate to break him from whatever trance he was in.

You wracked your brain in an attempt to understand what was happening. Was he sleepwalking? Jake hasn’t had any previous history of sleepwalking but that was the only thing you could conclude with the way he was acting.

You rub your thumbs softly against the apples of his cheeks and his wet skin, frowning at how cold to the touch he feels. “Jake, I’m gonna bring you back to bed, okay?” You don’t know why you’re even telling him this since he can’t even hear a word you are saying. You grab him by the hand once more and turn around when you feel him tug you back.

You look at him over your shoulder to see his feet still planted firmly on the ground beneath him. He is still looking at you, but gone is that neutral look on his face. It was replaced with a look that made you feel uncomfortable under his gaze. He was smirking–a look that wasn’t uncommon on Jake’s face. The glint in his green eyes that seemed to have darkened under the pale moonlight held something more unnatural. A look you would describe as sinister.

His grip on your hand tightened and you had to stop yourself from squeaking out in pain. “Jake, what are you doing? Let me go, that hurts.”

Jake’s smirk grows. “Stupid girl, Jake’s not home right now.”

The voice that comes out of his mouth is hardly his. It’s low and unlike the Southern timbre you’ve grown so used to. It felt almost sickening to listen to. It made your heart race and tripped the danger signals in your head. “This isn’t funny, Jake.” Your voice fades at the end of your sentence despite how hard you try to keep your fear at bay. “Seriously, that’s enough.”

He laughs mockingly. The sound makes your skin erupt in goosebumps and you tug on your hand to try to get out of his hold. “What makes you think this is a joke? I told you. Jake’s not home right now. He’s busy. Busy letting go.”

You shake your head in denial. You know what this is. Jake has told you about this before. You’ve even seen it once yourself in a previous case that you concluded to be mass hysteria and sleepwalking. The word is on the forefront of your mind but you refuse to acknowledge it.

“Acknowledgement makes it real,” you could hear Jake’s voice in your head. “You’ve got to start working on that.”

You couldn’t. Acknowledging it made this situation real. It made everything you refused to believe in, refused to see the truth in, real. That just made this predicament ten times more frightening.

“What does that mean?” You conclude that you won’t acknowledge it, but you would play his game like you would with a perp in the field. Goad him on, keep him talking in hopes that you could figure out his motive.

“Jake is a suffering soul and you are the reason why his pain is too much to bear. He needs to let go so he can be free of the burdens you’ve placed upon him. I’m here to make sure he does without you getting in the way.”

Jake, or not Jake, uses one arm to push you back onto the floor with an inhumane bout of brute force that makes your back ache. Your mistake was trying to use your arm to catch yourself. As if the immediate burning pain wasn’t enough, the sickening sound of a crack echoes in your ears as you hit the ground.

You cry out before falling onto your shoulder and cradling your arm with your other hand. The tears that begin to gather in your eyes are from all the emotions rolling through you at once. Fear, regret, pain, but most of all, guilt.

“I have to free him, just like the others.” Not Jake speaks before turning around and robotically walking back towards the ledge.

You had to stop him. “The others? What others?” You call out, voice strained due to the feeling that your arm was on fire.

“The others that were suffering!” He turns back around to face you. “I had to take over and relieve them from the pain that has been inflicted upon them before I could take care of the source of their pain.”

“Take care of it, how?”

“You’ll see. You are next after all.” A menacing smile pulls at Jake’s lips and the reality of your situation finally sinks in.

There was not a single skeptic bone in your body as you finally accepted your job and what you do. Each moment of solving case after case with Jake became even more real as you thought of them one by one. You went through the catalog of supernatural explanations for each one before landing on the one that was being displayed right in front of you. Seeing it in the eyes of someone you loved was something you could no longer deny.

Possession. Jake was possessed. He was possessed by some sick spirit that thought they were helping rid Jake of his pain.

Your tears mix with the rain droplets on your cheeks as you beg for Jake to look at you. He couldn’t hear you, you knew that, but you had to do something to get his attention back on you. The spirit in Jake’s body was leading him back to the ledge.

Watching Jake take another step closer to the edge of the rooftop finally made you understand what the spirit was doing. Ridding them of their misery. The entity was going to make Jake step off the ledge.

You couldn’t take your eyes off Jake as you pushed yourself with all the strength you had off the floor with your good arm. What did Jake say could take victims out of a possession?

You stare at the pair of lovers with watery eyes as they embrace each other tightly. “How did he do it?”

“Do what?” Jake asks, looking at you with his arms crossed.

“Snap her out of it. I really thought she was a lost cause.”

He shrugs. “Easy. He just reminded her of who she is and what she’s living for. It’s cheesy but the power of love is not to be underestimated.”

You scoff with an amused smile on your lips. “Whatever, Celine Dion.”

You rush forward, grabbing him by the arm and forcefully bringing him back off the ledge to face you. “Jake, you are stronger than whatever this is. You’re Jake Seresin, FBI Special Agent for the X-Files. You are the smartest guy I know and maybe even the funniest, but don’t tell Bradshaw.”

Jake, or whatever is possessing him, contorts his features so Jake is smiling down at you in amusement. Not the playful kind that you’re used to, but a more unsettling one. “That’s cute, Pumpkin. But what you’re doing is not gonna work.”

You hold onto Jake’s arm with as much strength as you have, not caring if it might bruise him later. Bruising is the least of your worries. You ignore the bile that pushes itself up your throat at the sound of your nickname being tainted by something that isn’t even Jake.

“You are confident and a little too arrogant sometimes, but I wouldn’t have you any other way. You are my best friend and my partner.” You sniffle, as you look into his clouded eyes. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not telling you about my transfer and I’m sorry for even doing it in the first place. The truth is, I did it because I was afraid. I was afraid of how attached I have become to you. I was afraid that at any moment something bad would happen and I would lose you. But most of all, I was afraid because I love you.”

You scan his features, desperate for a sign that he heard you.

“I love you, Jake Seresin and I was afraid that I do. I have never felt this way before towards anyone and I was scared. Working with you became too much and for a moment, I thought that transferring would save me from the inevitable heartbreak once I realized that you would never feel the same about me. But Jake, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.

I love you and I need you to come back to me because I realized, I don’t think I could really live without you in my life. I need you like I need air to breathe, Jake Seresin. You are everything to me. I need you to come back to me and when you do, I promise I’ll stay, even if you don’t love me back. As long as you’re still in my life, I’m good. That is all I need. So please, please be strong and fight this for me. I know you’re in there and that you can hear me. I know you can. Fight it, Seresin. Beat that old spirit’s ass.”

It feels like an eternity before he finally comes to. You had seen the shift in his gaze after the second “I love you,” but you still kept going. Just in case he needed reassurance. Just in case he didn’t believe you.

The moment was subtle, just as it had been the first time you witnessed a possession. It wasn’t anything flashy like the media portrayed it to be. There was no screaming, no bodies defying gravity, and no latin phrases or priests in sight.

It was the gasp of air Jake took before falling forward and into your arms. It was the cold of his skin turning warm again. It was the way he cried as his own arms wrapped around your body. He was here and he was home.

You are careful of your injured arm as you slowly lower the two of you onto the ground. The rain, you’ve noticed, had finally ceased to a stop leaving you and Jake sitting in a puddle. Though neither of you cared as you were both sopping wet anyways.

You cradle his head into the crook of your neck and sigh in relief with a cry of your own. Jake’s arms tighten around your middle and you kiss his wet hair.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. You’re here,” you whisper into his ear.

You don’t know how long has passed until Jake finally says something to you, but you don’t care. You’d hold him for as long as he needed.

“Did you mean it?” He croaks, looking up at you with sad eyes. “Did you mean what you said?”

You knew what he was really trying to ask. Were they not just empty words to get me out of my head?

You brush his cheek with your knuckle. “Every single word. I love you, Jake. I love you so much and I am so sorry for everything I have done to make you think otherwise.”

The smile that falls on his face makes the heaviness of before melt away. You no longer felt cold and damp from the warmth of his smile. One that was so unlike the one he had given you when he was possessed.

This was your Jake, the one you loved.

“I love you, Pumpkin. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say it,” he confesses.

“Are you serious?” You let out a watery laugh of disbelief.

He nods. “I love you. I love you so fucking much it hurts sometimes.”

A smile of your own graces your lips as you lean your forehead against his. “Kiss me, Jake. Please, I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

The kiss is everything you thought it would be and more. His lips feel like home as they meet yours in a dance that shouldn’t feel as familiar as it already does. It felt like a dance you’ve done a million times before. It was a dance you would do a million times again.

“Please don’t transfer. Please don’t leave me, baby,” Jake begs as he releases your lips.

You could cry from how desperate he sounds. You did that. You instilled that doubt in him. So you’ll prove to him that you’re here to stay, no matter how long it takes. “I’m staying. I promise. Jake, I don’t think I could leave you even if I tried.”

That’s all it takes for Jake’s lips to meet yours in another round of passionate kisses.

You shift in his hold, whimpering when you feel a sharp pain in your arm from when you fell. With all the adrenaline wearing off, you can feel the ache of your split bone.

“Shit, Pumpkin.” Jake reluctantly pulls away. He looks down at you before making contact with your arm that you cradle back to your chest. “Darling, you’re hurt. We need to get you to the hospital.”

He must think you’re crazy by the way you shake your head and try to keep him down with you. “Not yet.”

“But baby, your arm—“

“My arm can wait,” you hum. “Let me keep you to myself for a bit. Just me and you.”

Jake nods, falling back against you carefully. “Just me and you. Hey, Pumpkin?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for saving my life.”

Your smile is bright enough to rival that of the now rising sun. “Thank you for saving mine.”

Six Months Later

“I’m surprised you even wanted to come back here,” Natasha looks to the duo beside her with surprise.

You’re smiling proudly up at Jake who has his arm securely around your waist as he tucks you into his side.

“I needed to make sure that it was really done. That they really shut down for good,” Jake replies, looking out to the Motel California that was now officially closed for good after a thorough investigation by their department.

Turns out, over a dozen helpless travelers and fallen victims to the motel’s sinister spirits.

Dozens were found dead over the years by what was concluded as self inflicted injuries and unfortunate accidents.

Upon finding this out, you and Jake had set it onto yourselves to shut down the motel’s business in hopes that no one would fall victim to those spirits again.

Now, you could only hope that the spirits would stay contained in the now abandoned motel forever.

The motel held a bittersweet place in both of your hearts. It was the place where you first said “I love you,” but it was also the place where an irreversible tragedy almost occurred.

The motel served as a turning point in your relationship, but it did not define who the two of you were today.

“I’m surprised the two of you didn’t take one look at this place and know it was haunted,” Bradley retorts from the other side of Jake.

Jake elbows Bradley in the stomach causing him to wince over in exaggerated pain.

You and Natasha giggle at the boys’ exchange, rolling your eyes with amusement.

“Come on, Bradshaw, let’s give these two a moment of peace.” Nat pulls Bradley by the arm and towards the car.

Bradley huffs under his breath like a child but complies, dragging his feet behind her.

“You did good, Jake,” you grin at your boyfriend of six months.

“Oh, please, that was all you, Pumpkin. I just played puppet for the night.”

“Yeah, but it was you who pushed for this investigation and for the motel’s closure. That’s more than I did.”

Jake shakes his head with a laugh and presses a quick kiss to the tip of your nose. “Why don’t we just agree to disagree?”

You smirk, gazing at him knowingly. “Don’t we always?”

He leans down to place a real kiss on your lips, one filled with love and a little bit of nostalgia. “That we do, baby.”

The two of you take a moment before walking back to the car hand in hand.

“Looks like we’re at it again, Seresin,” you praise.

He eyes you quizzically with a clear question written on his face.

“Jake and Pumpkin at it again. Solving cases one supernatural entity at a time.”

tgm taglist: @joaquinwhorres @harrycherrylove @smoothdogsgirl @t-nd-rfoot @dempy @ollyoxenfrees @potato-girl99981 @averyhotchner @2guysonascooter @loveforaugust @blue-aconite @fandom-life-12 @stiles-banshees @iamdannyday @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @breezemood @eli2447 @angelbabyange @finelytaylored @pono-pura-vida @hecate-steps-on-me @blueoorchid @aviatorobsessed @blackwidownat2814 @hallecarey1 @averagereader35 @laneylovesglen @atarmychick007 @kajjaka @urfavelocagirl @clancycumber230 @memeorydotcom @kmc1989 @percysaidnever @thestarspangledcaptain @wkndwlff @shanimallina87

#fe's fic recs #fic rec

122 notes · View notes

bitchlessdino · 6 months ago

Text

demon's play 2: devil's intervention (m)

Original - Demon's play Pairing: devil!wonwoo x demon!seungcheol x demon!chan x afab human!reader Genre: smut Word count: 10k tags: plot heavy, some fluffish moments, perpetual fear, ikea employee!reader, dom!wonwoo, sub!reader, verse!chan, verse!seungcheol, cum drunk!demons, violent graphic imagery (death, lashing, sacrifices), mentions of blood, Voyeurism, biting to the point of blood, MLM themes that is not based off of any implications of reality, hair pulling, choking, spitting, double fem head, biting, mentions of holes (referencing anal play), mentions forked tongue and sharp tail (and it being used for some kind of hitting), oral (giving and recieving), handjobs, degradation, multiple orgasms bc girls its possible i swear, cum swallowing, nipple play, unprotected sex Summary: it's been some time since Chan and Seungcheol abandoned the underworld for you, a simple human. The ruler of the underworld does not too kindly to distractions, even ones so prettily packaged such as yourself. It was time he took matters into his own hands. author note: yall remember this? I just wanna give my utmost gratitude to @multi-kpop-fanfics for reading my fic front to back, beginning to end, rough to final, the whole nine yards and boosting up my self-esteem like no other. I am so excited for this bc i think this is the dirtiest yet (with room to improve) so thank you so much my lovely demon babe zeta.

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic @kaiser211 @pantumin @unlikelysublimekryptonite @channiesliquor @i4kt

The world has made most people believe that the devil was born out of evil and hate. By word of mouth, the devil has become the most vile most disgustingly despicable spirit imaginable and that’s why they were cast as ruler of the underworld, that only he could conjure up the world’s most cruelest and grueling punishments for the above-ground world’s sinners.

The one thing Wonwoo despised the most was that assumption. The true history of its origins was that he and his predecessors were chosen ones. Not so much made to be the devil but rather he had been nurtured to exist as one, much like how humans grow up on the Earth’s crust. Wonwoo, following the footsteps before him, was no fallen angel.

He was god’s favorite—that was at most correct—but for being the most impartial and like-minded to them. The only other person to rule a world such as the light land, heaven according to humans; or the underworld, also known as hell. His status was a gift but over time became a curse, a burden by god who bestowed it upon him.

A truly dedicated and impartial person would understand the severity of sinners and their stories. Particularly, the proper punishments. A lifetime of ruling the underworld had made him numb. Only power and order kept him sane.

The moment those two things decline, so does his patience.

Not one, but two, of his dutiful service demons disappear in a matter of 4 Earthly months. Had it been in the initial era of his ruling, he would not pay it a single second where they went, but after a millennium of the sickening sights he’s swallowed, he would not stand for this inconsistency. The one thing that he looked forward to was the company, no matter how annoying and clingy they can be.

Wonwoo hadn’t stepped onto Earth in an indiscernible expanse of time and it was unlike what he remembered, one thing was clear, the underworld was infamous for its inferno weather, but Earth weather was another kind of disgusting. The vessel he took on made it intolerable, perspiration beading revoltingly on the back of his neck. He adjusted his glasses, slipping his hands into his pockets, and sought to discern an energy unlike any he had encountered among the feeble humans thus far.

He succeeded in isolating a unique energy signature, yet the absence of his demons momentarily cast doubts upon his intuition. Then, he found you, standing in what he determines to be a reliquary of transcribed lore, the incubus scent growing stronger as he drew closer. You seemed no different from any other human, vulnerable and defenseless against his indomitable power, and utterly ordinary.

So why had he started crying?

In the recesses of his consciousness, fleeting images of a countenance reflecting yours danced like ethereal flames. The memory of your smile–or one like yours–gentle yet insistent, reached out and seized at the very core of his being, unfurling layers he never fathomed existed. It had been eons since he last experienced such human-like tethering since he too was bound to Earth by the fragile ties of blood and flesh.

However, your presence was the catalyst for their absence, a glaring aberration in his otherwise solitary existence. And that singular realization meant only one course of action: the inexorable termination of your existence.

Wonwoo observed you from afar, studying your every movement, your predictable patterns of behavior, and the places you frequented like clockwork. Everything from your favorite place of consumption to the branding of hygienic production you purchase at a typical brick and mortar were all meticulously cataloged in his mind. The striking similarity between you and this entity from a bygone era stirred an unsettling disquiet within him, sending shivers down his spine with each passing moment. The longer he observed, the more his curiosity swelled, growing into an insatiable hunger for understanding you beyond what you present on the outside.

By now, Wonwoo had deduced just one aspect of your culinary predilections: a fondness for toasted bagels generously adorned with a creamy spread of a concoction called cream cheese and sprinkled with chopped chives. After a series of meticulous trials, he affirmed that this particular combination was not only pleasing but also a sensory delight to his refined palate.

However, your brewed coffee, fused with thickened dairy and doused in sugary syrup, was an entirely different story. Its sickening sweetness overwhelmed his taste buds, rendering it utterly unpalatable—a mere shadow compared to the gods’ divine ambrosia.

Humans truly were deserving of hell, you were no exception.

Wonwoo persisted in his quest to unravel the complex layers of your being, methodically tracing each footstep until they guided you back to the comforting confines of your earthly sanctuary. Veiled within the shadows, he seamlessly merged with the enigmatic darkness surrounding him, his gaze fixated on you with an intensity that pierced through the veil of mundane reality. With unwavering focus, his eyes followed the subtle movements of your fingers as they danced across the surface of a seemingly ordinary sentinel interface, a portal to the realm of security and protection.

‘0717.’ A rather simple yet familiar sequence of numbers in a form of security.

With a precision honed through meticulous observation, he deftly navigated the labyrinthine corridors of your mortal dwelling. Transfusing effortlessly with the darkness, he moved through with a silent grace, his spectral presence a mysterious entity amidst the Earthly realm, devoid of any physical embodiment to shroud himself. With each passing moment, he attuned himself to the subtle rhythms of your routine, mastering the delicate interplay of light and dark until he could foresee your every movement with unmatched accuracy.

Finally, he discerned their voices, those traitorous whispers that pierced the silence.

“You’re home, pet.”

Wonwoo's gaze bore into the flesh embodiment of the young demon, seething at their shameless behavior before arms snaked around your mortal form. "I've missed you dearly," Chan cooed, his fingers delicately parting your hair from your face.

"I'm sorry for making you wait," you apologized, the sincerity evident in the softness of your voice. Your eyes held a glint of warmth as they met Chan's, a mixture of affection and contrition swirling within their depths. With gentle fingers, you reached out to adjust the folds of his human attire, intimacy amidst the sensual warmth that polluted the entraped space.

"Today was a longer day than usual, too many distractions. Please don’t be mad," your words laced with earnest.

"Oh, darling. I could never be mad at you," Chan responded tenderly, his gaze softening as he drew you closer. His touch is a comforting anchor amidst the hidden chaos swirling in the corner of the room, undetectable by the human and demon.

Seungcheol emerged from the kitchen, his form draped in a simple mortal garment that seemed unfit for his eternal significance. The cotton apron, stained and worn, clung to him like a tattered shroud, its once vibrant colors faded into a dreary mortality. As he approached you, a wave of revulsion washed over the Devil beneath his hiding space, his senses assaulted by the sight of such lowly attire adorning one who should command awe and reverence with his masculine presence alone.

With an unsettling blend of kindness and audacity in his gaze, Seungcheol dared to step into the embrace, his very presence a direct challenge to Wonwoo's finely honed sensibilities. The devil recoiled inwardly, a wave of repulsion washing over him at the proximity of this figure seemingly draped in the mundane fabrics of ordinary existence. Meanwhile, you found yourself ensnared within the comforting embrace of Seungcheol, willingly inviting him into your sphere despite the tension radiating from Wonwoo's silent disapproval.

"Supper awaits you," Seungcheol declared, his voice nauseating and unsettling to Wonwoo's refined ears, reminiscent of the sound of nails scraping across a chalkboard. Each saccharine syllable felt like a direct challenge to Wonwoo's perception of the demon he thought he knew. He observed, with a mixture of surprise and disdain, how Seungcheol appeared to have embraced the mundanity of domesticity and the mortal realm, embodied in the form of you, a mere lowly human.

For the first time in a millennium, Wonwoo felt sick to his stomach, as if it were possible with his immortal being.

He resigned himself to endure the ordeal for the sake of continued observation, silently watching from their concealed vantage point as the scene unfolded.

"You smell..." Chan's words trailed off as he inhaled deeply, allowing the complex tapestry of your scent to envelop him. "Delectable. Far more enticing than that banal perfume the servitude coerces you to wear." With each breath, he discerned the delicate interplay of notes that bespoke your essence, a symphony of subtleties far richer than any artificial fragrance. As he drew you closer, he marveled at the intoxicating allure that emanated from your pores.

Wonwoo, too, found himself captivated by the depths of your natural aroma. Beneath the manufactured layers and demon essence, he detected the faint traces of your natural aroma—an intoxicating blend that beckoned with a magnetic allure, stirring a primal fascination within him. The embodiment of your rich humanity. It was a scent that spoke volumes, weaving a narrative vulnerability that resonated with him in an unexplainable way.

"No one's forcing me to wear anything," you reassured. "It's simply to smell pleasant during 12-hour workdays."

"You already smell pleasant without it! Even better, in fact!"

"Keep your voice down, Chan," Seungcheol cautioned.

“I apologize, pet, but at least only we get the pleasure of having you to ourselves.” The demon’s hand trailed deviously over your figure, a smile dancing against his features. "The supper wouldn't satisfy me the way you could, my darling.”

Wonwoo swallowed, keenly observing your reaction. The pebbling of your skin, your internal temperature rising beneath Chan’s fingertips, the moan hitched in your breath. Wonwoo clenched his fists, gaze hardening as the young demon’s filthy hands traveled further down your body, only watching as his hands cupped your heat hidden underneath layers of articles of clothing. Beneath the demon’s grip was thick arousal, soaking through your undergarments, drawing both demons–as well as the Devil–into a simple, yet powerful, spell.

"Allow the poor mortal to eat, you insatiable boy,” Seungcheol interjected, against his better judgment. “If you're insistent on nourishment, ensure they are in good health for feeding. Otherwise, their stamina would dwindle away as if it was nothing."

Chan scoffs, gently unhanding you but bridging the gap between his lips and your cheek, undoubtedly blistering the skin of your face from his heat of a thousand suns. “Fine, after you’ve eaten then. Then there’s no stopping my ravishing.”

The unlikely trio committed what seemed unfathomable to Wonwoo: they shared a meal and engaged in proper communication. The sight was bewildering; never in his wildest imaginings could he have conceived of two of his most loyal eternal servants obeying the commands of someone of your ilk. To Wonwoo, it felt like a humiliation, an erosion of the boundaries he had meticulously established. Yet, neither Chan nor Seungcheol appeared to share his concerns. As he watched them interact with you, he was taken aback by the unexpected humanity in their eyes, the warmth and devotion that seemed out of place in their demonic existence.

All Wonwoo desired was for them to consume the human and resume their demonic duties. The fact that the human remained alive contradicted all expectations; by all rights, they should have perished by now. Yet here they were, challenging his understanding of their loyalty to him, the lord of the underworld.

Seungcheol, renowned for his icy demeanor and unswerving commitment, had long served as Wonwoo's steadfast right-hand man. Like an unyielding pillar of iron, he stood unmoved amidst the ceaseless torments endured by countless unfortunate souls. His stoic resolve had been a constant in the chaos of their realm.

Seungcheol was now in a role entirely unfamiliar to him. Gone was the facade of impassivity; instead, he delicately spoon-fed you soup, his normally unyielding countenance softened by a rare display of tenderness. It was a startling departure from the sternness that had characterized his every action until now, leaving Wonwoo to ponder the stark change unfolding before him.

As for Chan, laughter was reserved for the aftermath of whoever was his next meal or the spectacle of sinners being skinned alive in the fiery depths of the inferno, his favorite daytime event. There was a time when Wonwoo harbored an intense disdain for Chan and all that he represented. Every fiber of his being recoiled at the mere thought of Chan's existence, a visceral reaction fueled by a deep-seated revulsion.

He was once nothing but a vile, loathsome creature, radiating an aura of wretchedness and abhorrence in every aspect of his being. However, that was common for a demon. Wonwoo has not only grown used to the young demon’s cruelty, but he found the passion admirable. Now, Chan found himself utterly entranced by your...simplicity, his typically impish demeanor cushioned with the gentle stroke that swept your hair away from your face, careful not to disrupt your meal with any discomfort.

Wonwoo was perturbed. The devil waited for no one. He knew he must take them back at once. He could not stand for this no longer. The world was standing on the edge of crisis if these two lowly demons do not dare come back to the underworld, they would face his wrath. He had to force he hand until they were begging him to take them back.

Yet, he stood still as he watched them enter the bedroom. Immersed in his silent fury, it dissipates in the unraveling of your clothing, each article falling to the ground like blossom petals in the spring or leaves in the fall. Seungcheol had managed to find the column of your neck in an abrasive squeeze between meeting your lips in a wet and ravenous liplock. Your moan was trapped down your throat, mumbles of submission in its stead, and your hands roamed over him at a hungry pace, tracing over every muscle pulsing under your palms.

Chan wasted no opportunity to cease your defenseless behind, his throbbing erection prodding against you as he reclaimed your heat now melting against his fingers. His teeth gnawed against the back of your neck, breaking skin, and exposing blood into the thick air. His tongue, catches its taste of iron, humming in delight as his fingers plunge inside you with conviction.

Wonwoo was not new to sexual acts, clearly. Nor, was he a man of celibacy in the slightest. Yet, the moment your voice broke into the charged air, he felt something enter his immortal body and churned stomach, then he was clutching his metaphorical pearls of chaste as he swallowed a lump of regret. Despite his egregious power, the scene made him frozen where he stood, feet plastered to the ground.

He didn’t find a second where he could intervene, thinking study was necessary before he could deliver his final strike. Of course, that’s all this was. Nothing else.

“You’re starving aren't you,” Seungcheol growled. “I could smell your arousal for me before you even entered the apartment.”

“Tell me about it,” Chan joined, immersed in the air around you wafting in his nose. “There’s lust in these veins of yours,” his tongue swiped over the blood on his lips. “Don’t tell me you’ve been thinking about this all day…We fuck you every waking day of your life, and that’s still not enough. Isn’t that right?”

A “No,” barely made it past your lips before they were crushed under the weight of Seungcheol’s, and then you were the one starting to taste iron. Its aroma was as strong as they claimed, and Wonwoo fell under the same impression.

Chan tucked your hair behind your head, tugging you in his direction as his teeth skins into the base of your neck, his cock exposed in an instant and hugged between the plush felt of your ass. Your eyes retreated to your skull, trembling as Seungcheol’s cock pressed against your stomach. A shatter sigh broke out from your throat and you let them take over control of your feeble body.

They folded you forward, your lips mere inches away from the head of Seungcheol’s cock–teasing you in its glistening glory–as Chan’s precious weapon was ready to take the plunge. “Take it,” the young demon demanded with an underlying of a growl. “Then you will feel enlightened once again, pet.”

It didn't take you much longer to oblige, allowing Seungcheol’s size to be swallowed between and past your lips, hitting the back of your throat. Seungcheol’s fingers flossed through your locks, gripping at the root, and buried himself inside you as his eyes glowed at the glisten of yours. He could taste the power coursing through him, gently bobbing you up and down as you strained to fit all of him.

“That’s it, beautiful,” he softly encouraged, “does it hurt?”

You muffled an answer, one of confirmation.

“But you’re gonna try taking it all, aren’t you?”

To which, you mimiciked the sound before, twice as gingerly.

Your legs parted wide for Chan to make himself known in your sopping cunt and not a moment too soon, his slamming of his hips commenced, watching the cushion of your ass recoil against him. Your whimpers were muffled around Seungcheol as your arms were torn from control and roughly pinned behind your back in a vicious grip. Your eyes shot back Seungcheol in impulse, vibrating up his skin as Chan pounded your body back like dough, eyes and cheeks burning helpless yet complying tears.

The elder demon sent you no look of pity, only a smile of arrogance as he thrust faster, savoring how every inch of your body reacted in a delicious symphony. He has marveled at the tenderness and sensitivity of human skin before, but your flesh; it moldable like clay, looking almost edible, a fitting meal for one who craves the most tender of meat. Both demons groaned of ecstasy, letting you take the lashes of their hips at either of your welcoming ends. Even Wonwoo had to admit it was a sight to behold.

The back and forth of pampering and degrading ultimately led you to what happened every night since the three have been acquainted, blood curdling screams that could be mistaken for cold murder. In most cases for Wonwoo, the assumption wasn’t off, but tonight it was reserved for another sinful act. One that Wonwoo particularly was inexplicably intrigued with.

There seemed no end to your thirst for physical and sensual sanctity—no matter how rough and humiliating—and before any of them knew it, it had been hours since it’s been initiated. The devil stared at your body, glowing in your human perspiration, bare chest rising as falling to the pattern of your breaths, and cunt dripping in every fluid imaginable.

Alive and well. Elated even.

Impressed wouldn’t be the word coating the tip of the devilish intruder’s tongue, yet he can’t help but applaud you and your endurance. It made him wonder what it was that’s in you that made you this way.

Wonwoo decided an investigation was in order, and no, that did not mean another scandalous showcase of how deep one’s mortal throat and taking two demonic phallic pieces at once.

“Can I help you find anything you’re looking for?”

Your voice, like velvet, strokeed his eardrums, allowing him to inconspicuously and gently avert his feigned attention from mortal furniture that could not compare to the material in the existence of the depths of the underworld, let alone from of the light land it so obnoxiously claims when exclaiming ‘like Heaven’s clouds’. The corner of his lips quipped upwards curiously as he briefly absorbed your features upclose, seeing the overwhelming facade of hospitality dance its somehow subtle waltz. From the soften of your brow and gentle pucker of your parted lips, he could sense how your poised demeanor melted under his presence now towering over you.

“I’m actually looking for, um, things in my new apartment.” He imposed a chuckle, something lighthearted that emulated a false sense of security. “New place, new furniture. Not sure where to start. I’m used to people making that decision for me.”

Wonwoo hadn’t lied, it was true the underworld had been built in a way he couldn’t touch or alter, he just would have anything from this furniture store—let alone its air—in the residence that he’s long occupied in.

Afterall, the store was chaos embodied. The humans ran havoc with their tedious wonder and overzealous catalogs of boisterous furnishing as their spawnlings running up and down long corridors, jumping on fortresses of slumber with their filthy footware, and making a mockery of wreck of a merchant shop. No amount of coffee bitters and undercooked fruit pastries from its cafeteria would change that.

Nevertheless, Wonwoo was playing his part of lowly human, looking for a change in his sanctity, parting way for a furniture store in his aid.

“Of course.” You grinned tightly, eyes creasing as your cheekbones rose to the surface, bitten by the crisp ventilated air. “Well, we have an amazing selection of couches from leather to tweed, bookshelves made of the finest wood or strongest steel, anything you can possibly imagine. Where would you want to start first?”

Wonwoo honestly could not fathom such extensive assortment of furnishing, experiencing what buyer’s fatigue for the first time in his immortal life. He had trailed behind you and your guidance incessantly, playing on the charade of interested clientele, hoping at some point it’s come to an farewell and he could end his pursuit already.

God, were humans tediously boring.

“And that about does it. Any that pique your interest?” You asked, rather hopefully. “I do remember your attention lingering on the antique wooden desk with secret compartments.”

That faired the most interest of his out of any of the pieces here. Like made of magic, it held more than an entity could handle and store, perfectly adorn and crafted with the most intricate carvings that would take day–no, weeks–to perfectly master. Standing on a wooden easel, the light perfectly captured graining, almost enchanting in its own simple way. It was…acceptable for mortal furniture.

“It looked alright,” he managed to muster. “I may have to come back sometime again to get a better look. I’m just looking around for now.”

“No problem. If you change your mind, I can just take you to some of our kiosks and ring you and have it shipped to you in one to three business days.”

Your radiant smile illuminated even the most mundane tasks, leaving Wonwoo to ponder if your vitality extended beyond mere physical prowess. Such boundless energy and brilliance seemed incongruous within the confines of your modest frame. Perhaps there were depths to your character that he had yet to fathom.

"Um," he faltered, his voice wavering like the uncertain breeze in the depths of darkness in the darkest corner of his realm. Unlike the practiced guile he had wielded before to ensnare your confidence, this hesitation was genuine, born of a deep-seated unease. "Do you visit this cafe often?" he inquired, gesturing with a trembling thumb toward the dimly lit alcove nestled within the labyrinthine market, its air redolent with the tantalizing aroma of spiced venison and frothy elixirs.

You softly chuckled, clearing taking his soft tone as friendly conversation. “On occasion. Their dessert are a hit or miss, but the meatballs. Some say its overhyped, but its meat in my mouth, I’m not complaining.”

Your choice of words rendered you motionless, frozen in a sudden onset of shock, a hand instinctively leaping to cover your mouth. “I–that sounds so…”

Wonwoo interrupted you with a sincere smile and subtle ripple of mirth. I’m sure you very much welcome it. “I think I get what you mean.”

“Please don’t—just forget about the words that came out of my mouth.”

“Hard to forget to but,” Wonwoo pretended seal his lips with a zipper, invisible to the naked eye, while grinning impossibly hard, “as you wish.”

“I’m so embarrassed. My mind hasn’t been in the most…nevermind, but yes, the food is good. Drinks are worth a try. Avoid the cherry danish and substitute it for the cheese.” You attempt an escape, hoping to conjure a locker room out of thin air to hide in, knowing very well it across the other side of the building.

“Maybe, you could give a more indepth review,” He offered, his footsteps lightly treading towards you. “You seem to know the menu very well, and I have to say, I’m getting a bit hungry.”

You gazed upon the devil, unknowingly drawn by curiosity, your feet rooted to the ground in a mingling of shame and intrigue. The handsome stranger's invitation beckoned you. Eating on the job was a big no-no, with the only exception being the attempt to make a sale. Yet, beneath the weight of quotas and obligations, lingered the prospect of forging a new acquaintance—one that had captured your attention the moment you laid eyes on him.

“I could help you out with that.”

By no means was it a feast fit for the gods, but it stirred a ravenous hunger within the devil. Hearty, yet unassuming. A blend of ground meat, breadcrumbs, and spices, molded into spherical perfection and coated in a rich, savory sauce. It was the epitome of culinary simplicity—a revelation that Wonwoo had long forgotten food could possess such goodness.

“Wow.”

“Right? How do they do it? Some people even just come by for lunch.”

He continued to devour every inch of his plate. The meat. The gravy. The peas. The potatoes. He was in another world at the moment.

“Why is it so cheap?” He pondered out loud.

“So the customers would feel more compelled to buy furniture. A little reward for all your stalking of the right furnishing.”

“The marketing is genius,” he exclaimed softly, as he scarfed down more, ready to order a plate of 18.

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve met someone as into them as I am.”

He faltered in his movement, now forking over them curiously. “They are good. Like you said.”

You sighed, your gaze drifting over the glossy sheen of the brown coating on your chosen morsel. "Yeah, but I guess, I like this because it reminds me of home. My mom always made me a plate after I got home from school. It’s kind of nostalgic. I mean, sure, I can make some of my own, maybe even better than this, but having it made in a building with fake rooms that look like parts of a house reminds me of home. Weird, huh?"

Wonwoo remains silent. The only home he has ever known was the underworld, and any memory before that has dissipated as if it never existed. The closest semblance to it was you, a figure from his fleeting recollections of a past life. Someone who had begun to resurface in his once vacant vessel.

“Maybe that just amplifies their goodness,” he finally quipped, taking another mouthful.

You smiled, strangely comforted by his words. You didn’t think you’d enjoy having lunch with a stranger this much, but your surprise, there was more that meets the eye. And you had yet even learned his name. “If it's that good, you wouldn’t mind lunch here again? Maybe I’ll finally convince you to get that antique desk and-or even a sofa?”

A soft chuckle slipped from Wonwoo's lips. "Maybe.”

His ‘maybe’s turned into more when he started visiting every day with very little prospect of purchase and gradually the familiar musk of his demons no longer clouded your actual scent, etched into the depths of his weathered mind. You sat together, sipping drinks and discussing imaginary furniture as if you were lifelong companions, sharing laughter as if it were the most ordinary and natural thing in the world.

Occasionally, Wonwoo would let his eyes travel, slowly dropping to the bareness of your exposed clavical, lingering over a shirt that seemed to have mysteriously unbuttoned one or two buttons too many, guiding his eyes to the gentle slopes of your breasts cradled beneath the weight of your crossed forearms. For some inexplicable reason, he found himself mesmerized, your beauty increasingly captivating, stealing away minutes and hours in your presence without him even noticing. And yet, he didn't mind one bit.

"You're gonna have to buy something eventually," you teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Then who's going to come to work and make your job a little easier every day?"

You softly scoffed, tearing yet another meatball but now dipping it in the bitter sweetness of the jam provided. "I don't need my job to be easier, I need to make money.”

He softly quirked up a corner of his lips in an impish smile, "Then stop having lunch with me then.”

"Not until you buy a couch.” You sternly refuted, failing to subdue the smile on your face.

You always would use that excuse, excusing work as purpose, and drawing the line between the two. Salesperson and customer.

Before Wonwoo knew it, it had been a week since the first encounter, and strangely enough meeting you in a prompt sales pitch was something he was starting to look forward to.

“Maybe today’s the day. Maybe the couch of my dreams is in this store.”

You gazed at him with a straw between your lips, smiling knowingly at how untrue his proclamation was. He had never come close to making a purchase, yet you entertained him every time he walked past those double doors. The question is, why? Why does he insist on teasing you with the temptation of business and humiliate you by going against your expectations? What does he have to achieve by this?

“You’re breaking my heart here, Mr. Wonwoo.”

He chuckled at your nickname, growing rather fond of his name making past of your lips. How delicate you made him sound to be.

“I think you rather enjoy my company.”

“That has nothing to do with our little…arrangment.”

He leaned forward, mesmerizing eyes piercing back at you in a way that made your heart chase. His bottom lips softly dropped to speak before he gently observed your features, convincing you he could notice from the shift of your throat to the halt in your breath. He met your eyes once again. “What is our…arrangement?”

You exhaled, sipping your drinking and hearing the obnoxious slurp of your now empty cup, and somehow your throat was still dry. “I think its pretty obvious.”

“Obvious? You give me too much credit.”

“Well, you’re here for furniture but have yet bought any.”

“Does that culminate a dispute between you and I?”

“Not exactly, but–”

“And aren’t you paid regardless if you spend time with me?”

“Yes, but–”

His laughter was light, a hint of mischief lingering. “Then I don’t see the issue. You enjoy my company, you get paid to do your job. Win-win.”

He had a point. You had no reason to complain, he made your work days rather easy in comparison to other days he isn't present. Not to mention, shortens the day drastically because you could talk to him all day without a fuss. Nonetheless, this was a job. Not high school.

Plus, how would they thought if they knew of this?

“Tell me, Wonwoo. What is it you here for? If not to help me earn commission?”

“Perhaps…I’m simply drawn to you. I want to know your name, what you eat, and what takes up most of your day. Maybe I have stopped thinking about you since I first laid my eyes on you and I can’t help but make it a routine to see you on a certain amount of days during the week so I don’t miss you.”

You didn't expect this, at least not a proclamation this powerful, yet jarring.

“Then, maybe we should stop while we’re ahead, especially considering we know it’s going nowhere.”

“Is that really how you think? Or are you scared you don’t know what to expect from me?”

“...I–”

A deep chuckle escaped him, rising and dropping his chest as it tried suppress his laughter from becoming something more. “I’m kidding.”

“Not very funny, Mr. Jeon.”

“I apologize. My humor is not understood by most, but they laugh anyway. Probably scared if I’m serious.”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me.”

“Well, I think for the hard work you’ve done you do deserve a sale, so…I will be buying a couch today.”

Your eyes jumped in size. “Seriously?”

“There’s some things I take lightly but not people’s livelihoods.” It was natural the devil had boundaries, although, he wasn’t sure if he was truthful about the pretainment to jokes.

“Wow, um. Let me take you to a payment kiosk, we can ring you up.”

Wonwoo ran through the catalog, seeking a specific name amongst the millions of others until his eyes landed on it. The Amelia sectional couch with soft high-density foam seating, a rolled arm on either end, built on top of the sturdiest hardwood, and crafted in the most luxurious cream leather. A stand-out piece for any home. You raved about it, dreaming of one day owning a piece like it yourself one day. Then you would have truly made it.

“That’s an excellent choice. I’m seeing you’re taking my advice after all. Although, I am surprised with this choice since you eyed the Selzar in maroon more. I thought it rather suited you compared to the Amelia.”

“You’re right, it doesn't suit me.” He swiped the credit card he foraged from his pocket, before turning the screen away from him, facing it toward you. “Your address.”

“W-what?”

“Well, the store will need it for the couch to be sent to your home.”

“Wonwoo, I cant let you do that.”

“Why not? It’s a gift. For all your hard work.”

“It’s too much.”

“I’m making the purchase, you get your commission, a new couch, and all the more reason for me to visit.”

“Why would you do this?”

He didn’t say anything, only smiling just a hint before turning the screen back toward him when you dont respond, making you wonder how did he ever figure out your address. However, that was the least of your worries.

The couch arrived the next day: your day off, and familiar faces of your coworkers grinned at you as they installed the pieces of the furniture in the middle of your apartment, playfully jabbing at you about the grand gesture of Wonwoo, the infamous customer that always seemed to have your attention. No matter how much you dismissed the matter, they persisted until the very second they were done, now leaving your apartment as a new owner of the most beautiful piece of furniture you ever thought about owning.

You thought were still dreaming ever so as you ran your hand over the buttery smooth leather and feeling how cool and malleable it felt under your body. You softly moaned as the fabric grazed your cheek, buzzing at the fulfillment of your new furniture, falling in love with it like a new lover.

“Careful now, pet. Jealousy should not be extended towards inanimate objects.”

You softly giggled before Chan decided to join you to embrace your sides as he also grew into the comfort that was the new mysterious gift. A crackle of a moan escaped his lungs and he held you tighter, as if this single piece of furniture was somehow magic, enchanted to trap you both in a sealment of comfort. “Fine, I concede. This is amazing.”

“You’re so silly,” you teased before hugging your chest to his, eyes lifting up to stare at his brewing in a storm of stars and darkness. “Isn’t it the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on?”

“Well, no.” His fingers went on to trace your jaw, lips parting and he imagined himself biting down, marking your skin with his canines. “That title is reserved for you. Would've thought you learned that by now.”

“Sure, but isn’t it fantastic? It’s beautiful.”

He chuckled at your awe, a soft sigh drawing through his nose, his hunger intensely garnering the longer he stared. “Where did you get such a grand, boisterous thing, darling?”

Your breath ceased for a moment, mustering up a proper answer, “Oh, just someone from work gifted it to me.” You weren’t lying. It did come from work and you did meet Wonwoo at work and he did gift it to you. It was harmless.

“Working hard, I see? Mmh,” His hand combed through your hair, eyes full of mirth twisting into burning fire as he didn't drop his gaze. “Maybe I should reward you as well. Perhaps by—how you say—‘break in’ your new gift?”

You softly let his name resonate on your tongue, feeling his passing hand cup over the spill of the flesh of your ass as he squeezed. You tensed, drawing yourself closer in wary caution. “You won't actually break my new couch, will you?”

His lip quirked up in a grin. “Well, I guess that’d make the furnishing rather short lived, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try breaking you.”

Chan devoured the quiver of your lips–tasting their feverish want–just as quickly as he tossed you on top of him, the friction of your clothes causing the muffled sounds of aches vibrating against his lips. In a flash, he ripped off your cotton shirt, his supernatural strength ruining another mundane piece of clothing just as he was ready to ruin you into oblivion.

Your tight peaks brushed against his chest before he held your valleys in his hands, kneading them ravenously, and curling the tension in your gut. You twitched into his touch, riding high against his thigh as he took control, burying yourself in the plush of his lips, and feeling his primal, ravenous instincts be what’s only left of his immortal body.

Seungcheol did not come up short at the sight. Coming from the neighborly laundromat after offering to wash your clothes of its filth, he equaled his footing as he engaged against your backside, slipping his hands through your pants as his nails, now sharp as daggers, scrapped against your thighs. “Having fun without me, I see.”

You barely placed his name until he stole you from the younger demon, rolling you to his side as his nails plunged into your flesh and struck an agonizing groan from your throat.

He chuckled lowly. “I’ll make sure to make up from lost time, my sweet.”

You heard Chan scoff from behind you, branding your lower back with his cock burning against you as his thighs held your ass to his crotch in an iron grip. “About time you caught up, old man.”

“Just wait till my name is the one that they’re screaming tonight, boy.”

You could never remember how you lose your clothes so quickly, rather you were much more intrigued by the passage each demon would take. There has always to be a not-so-friendly competition when it came to these two, no matter how long they’ve managed to coexist in this place. They seemed to have found a perfect medium in self-gratification and your pleasure, as long as either one had their turn and you were a willing prey.

“Come on. You can do it. Just slide on top of me, pet.”

You took Chan’s gentle hand before climbing into his lap and hovering over his tip, swollen in impatience. A shattered breath took wind as you remained cautious as you always have, readily adjusting to the supernatural size as it invaded your vulnerable heat. His teeth collided with the back of your neck, his hands coming up from behind you and palming your tender breasts and caressing them as if they belonged to him, and perhaps in a way they did.

“That’s it,” he ushered, a hand lowering to pad over your clit, feeling the tender squeeze of your heat wrap about his shaft.

Your hips moved naturally, arms stabilizing over the couch and Chan’s shoulders, while you let your desires take course as he thrust inside you. Your breasts swayed and bounced with the weight of gravity, having your lover’s lips then wrapping around a hard nipple, lapping the texture in heat.

You felt weightless. Euphoric. You’ve lost count of the times sex had took place in this apartment with these two immortal beings alone, but you could never recount it the same way. It was always promisingly rhapsodical.

As Chan pierced you with every inch–grunting in your ear softly, but not struggling at all–Seungcheol took between your legs. His wide eyes were enflamed with the fire to destroy acres of land, while a smile graced his lips. His hand on either of Chan’s thighs, he leveraged up from the ground, eyes feasting on the force of the younger demon’s hips plunging in your cunt while your arousal dribbled down his peer’s thighs.

“Look at you, precious.” His hand glided between your thighs, mouth aching to gnaw on your plush flesh. His cock was a being of its own with how much it throbbed to be inside you. “It never cease to make me how you look…sound…smell with lust shooting up through your veins.”

He held your thighs against his hands, billowing you up and down towards Chan, and he glimpsed at the pulsating walls, locating your heartbeat and how it resided in your cunt just as much as it did in your chest. “Fucking brilliant.”

Seungcheol inched closer, devouring you with his other senses before then came his mouth, then came the flicker of his tongue, and finally his lower lips finding home in your pussy, not minding the cock already resided inside. His tongue traveled however it deemed fit and Chan didn’t mind, he rather relished in it.

Your curses melted into whimpers, pleasure masquerading as pleads, and your body molding to them like wet clay. Your mind seemed to wander with their heavy gaze as you expected to stare into space but instead, met eyes fiery just as either demon before you standing in the corner of the room. Curiously, you gazed at their stillness, slowly processing the familiar body it came with.

Instead of frightening you or involuntarily tearing a scream from your throat, they somehow soothed you. It enthralled you that someone dared to watch and without a word leaving their lips.

Suddenly, the younger demon’s pace hasted. A sigh turned to a moan and you felt Chan buck his hips harder into you as his impish chuckles tickled your cheeks. “I love this pussy so fucking much.” His fingers spread your lips apart, feeling the viscous arousal form on his fingerprints and between crevices. “Aren’t I lucky?”

Your torso would’ve fallen over if not for Chan’s steady grip. Your eyes would not stray from the intruder—no matter how tense—realizing without his usual spectacles his eyes burned louder than you’ve ever seen. His smile was devastating, posture domineering. It was then you realized, you weren’t just a show. You were a showcase.

You almost whispered his name, drifting towards his silent beckon, but the demons held you down, bringing you to completion and your eyes forced shut. You tugged from the root of Seungcheol’s head and you lost yourself in the explosion that was your release. Chan’s lips broke from your skin reluctantly, easing his pace to the rhythms of your breaths. “Fuck, I can feel your cum. Try to warn a demon, will you?”

Seungcheol further buried himself between your legs, striking your inner thighs, and moaning into your heat, “Don’t you stop, boy. I need to tap more of their syrup.”

“Fuck,” Chan whimpered feeling the older demon tongue glide against his shaft while inside you, brushing harsh stripes along his pulsating thick veins, and for once he doesn’t argue, thrusting in you at top speed as Seungcheol’s full muscle collected your release.

Now Chan felt as if he’s the one to break lose out of control. His teeth plunge in your neck, canines breaking skin, and your voice gave out as you feel billions of his droplets shoot into you like a rapid stream. Your eyes fluttered as you twitched in his clutch, tears pouring out of your eye sockets, your cum mixing with Chan’s, and you’re stripped from signs of life besides a beating heart.

“Now it’s time to join your brethren, young demon.”

His voice boomed, bouncing off every wall and stunning both Chan and Seuncheol in spots. Fear reigned Seungcheol’s features as it did Chan’s and if you were mentally well enough, you’d notice the sweat pilling their skin not from fatigue, but from horror.

“M-my lord.” Seungcheol stammered, dropping your body against Chan and turning to the sound of the devil, recognizing him immediately as the devil’s eyes pierced and burned through his entire body. “How…” He swallowed as if doing away with his betrayal, but knowing its ineffectiveness. “We didn’t mean to–”

“Silence,” Wonwoo commanded.

Chan’s lips quivered, tears running down his cheeks, paralyzed as you laid limp on his body. “We were going to come back.”

“As you were instructed to months prior to your quest on the Earth’s crust? Don’t filth your mouth of lies any more than you already have, vile creature.”

“What’s happening?” You breached while in recovery.

Seungcheol then kneeled at Wonwoo’s feet, his naked body taut in respect, forcing his gaze to the ground. “We accept your punishment in all forms. We are ashamed of our actions and deserve the utmost repercussions, but please, do not harm the human.”

The devil slowly approached, foot placed on the crown on the demon’s head before he displaced his weight, “Do not descend your face to the ground or I shall show you no mercy…This human. They mean a great deal to you both, yes?”

“Yes, my lord,” Seungcheol answered without hesitation, struggling under the weight of Wonwoo’s foot.

“Y-yes, lord,” Chan softly cried.

Wonwoo’s smile curled, an arrogant breath expelling through his nose at his laughed curtly. He took his booted foot off of the demon’s head and instead claimed his hair, pulling up his features into view and seeing determination and defiance wrinkle his skin. “You’re foolish. You don’t deserve any ounce of immortality that you were gifted.”

Seungcheol’s head was shoved away, and relief bellowed in his chest from coming out unscathed, huffing air as if it was scarce before his chest tightened. “Does that mean the human will be left free?”

“...No,” Wonwoo strode until facing you in Chan’s arm, the younger demon softly grasped your body, unwilling to let go. “I have a…peculiar matter I would rather tend to. Now, young demon. Join your brethren.”

Chan shook his head furiously. “Promise they’ll be safe from your wrath, lord. I will follow you until the depths of the Earth, suffer every lashing, and scar you may dealt me. Please, let the human be free from your cruelty.”

“Let me finish. Join your brethren on the ground and place the human back delicately on this new furnishing you’ve already defiled.”

Chan shut his eyes with remorse and did as the devil asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek as his body followed to the space occupying his fellow demon, awaiting punishment.

Wonwoo huffed, feeling his power surging through him. “Now feast.”

Both demons gazed upon their lord of the underworld in confusion, but he only repeated himself. “Feast. Do as Seungcheol has done together. My judgment will be halted until then.”

“Feast on the human?” Chan blinked. “In order to…sacrifice them?”

“No. To enjoy them. I’m letting you both finish what was started. Do not disappoint me. Do I make myself clear?”

Their heads bowed in gratitude, mouths dropped slack in disbelief and hunger. They nodded their heads, muttering gratitude before reuniting with you at your feet. Seungcheol propped you tenderly against the couch and carefully parted your legs. “Let’s cherish these moments, precious. We don’t know if it’ll be the last.”

Your eyes fluttered softly. Having observed everything, you’re still confused, but your brain has melted from the intimacy. You didn’t think about properly processing his words, simply living in the moment.

Seungcheol took your left side as Chan took your right. The demon’s eyes met in comraderie, nodding before inhaling your scent for what they believed is the final time. Their tongues tangled with one another, both either plunging inside you or running against you. You bucked up your hips at the sensation, lips parting in ache as you felt their warmth stimulate you and you feel the tension in your stomach coiling tighter as one sucked against your clit.

“So, mmh…good.”

“Fuck, I really do love this pussy so much,” Chan whined sucking against your sopping folds.

Seungcheol moaned around your clit, the vibrations running up your body and pebbling your skin. “I don’t ever want to stop…”

Caught in the highs, Seungcheol's fingers ran through Chan’s hair and pressed him deeper between your legs, hoping to find gratification in a form of your voice regaining power. He tenderly massaged Chan’s scalp, gently stroking his locks, thinking to himself, if he were to share you, it had to be done right, and his tongue darted lower to double pierce through your cunt.

“Oh, god…” You clawed against the leather. “Don’t…stop…”

Their arms wrapped around your thighs tightly, fueled by your unquenchable arousal, their tongues collaborating in you to taste every warm inch inside and out. All the sweat, moisture–all the cum either yours or Chan’s–the demon enslaved on it, worshiped it, cherished it with every fiber of their dark empty pits that replaced their souls. There was never enough and they weren’t for a second complaining.

“Spit on it, Seungcheol,” Wonwoo said, “Spit on their wet cunt.”

The demons paused and Seungcheol did just as told, spitting a fat load of saliva on the center of your core, to which you winced in surprise despite the warning.

“Push it in them, Chan.” And Chan obeyed, his tongue targeting the fluid and pushing inside you in practiced thrusts, glistening eyes staring back at you with tear-stained flushed cheeks.

“Repeat.”

They started alternating, Seungcheol spitting inside you to allow Chan to fuck it back in you. It was unreal, more reward than divine punishment and you clenched around the tongue. Then there were both tongues in your holes again as your thighs parted like two unhappy lovers, their mouths made love to them over and over, fingers pounding in you as perfect tools before you spilled cum in their mouths for more than the nth time. There seemed to be no end.

If one demon were more selfish, they’d collect more than the other, and if one were to fight back, they’d collect directly from the other's mouth. Chan often found himself to be the former, being caught fueding with Seungcheol in fits of passionate lip lock for fair distribution. They were so cum drunk neither cared who won because they always went back for more: your cunt and each other.

“Selfish demons. Neither one of you has taken a moment to breathe. Just how insatiable, are you?”

Wonwoo stood closely behind the males, taking a more observant authoritative approach, knowing his words don’t hold the power they’re used to when incubi feed on their perfect prey. Still, he grinned smugly at the sight. His eyes met yours, finding you staring back at him, seeing more questions in your eyes than answers, massively clouded by the raging ache of your body being undone at the hands of the demons. “I hope you’re enjoying the gift, darling, you look pretty getting eaten up.”

“Wonwoo…how—oh…”

Seungcheol’s free hand instinctively reached for your breasts, teasing your nipples and rolling them between the pads of his fingers. “Be careful speaking, sweet…he’s not not an average human or demon.”

“Demon?”

“He’s right,” Wonwoo say, knees dipping into the couch next to you.Your eyes followed his movement, seeing how his shirt was slowly cascading off his body with every button unlatched. “I am not something you simply speak in a passing moment. I hold more power than anyone in this room, but you’re getting to know that. I have forgiven you.”

He parted your hair from over your face and cupped your cheek, red eyes burning back at you as they ran over your face. Although he’s almighty and powerful, his touches were gentle and smile deceivingly kind, calling you toward him like ships to a lighthouse.

“I always wonder what this face would look ruined inside and out.” Wonwoo gripped your chin and forced you to face him, “It’s fascinating seeing a face like this construe into something so sinful, yet satisfying.”

His lips claimed yours hungrily and you could taste rage, power, and a tongue shaped like no other. It had girth, abnormal length, and was split at the center, each end slithering through the inside of either of your cheeks.

It was then you realized it was a forked tongue. One unlike any done artificially. The pieces finally came together. You were tongue wrestling with the devil and you enjoyed it. He moaned against your mouth, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. “You’re so damn sweet, it’s infuriating. It’s no wonder these demons are weak to you, so weak to this pussy and these lips.”

He reunited with your lips, exploring you deeper as his hand wrapped around the stands of your hair and gripped, and you swallowed his grunts, while his tongue flickered at the back of your throat. “How many times have you released in their presence? A hundred? A thousand? A million? It’s never enough for you either, is it?”

You shook your head weakly, eyes begging for more as you were already addicted, feeling him awaken something in you that can’t be sated.

“I’m an all immortal being, so I know. Just like I know you wonder what I look like beneath my clothes…what I taste like…how I’d fuck you.”

“Fuck,” Chan breathed into your pussy listening in, reaching down for his cock that’s doubled in size, stroking himself to the sounds of Wonwoo’s vulgar language. Seungcheol joined him, but he didn't stroke his own cock, he held Chan’s, and their gazes were brought together as their tongues shared residence inside your heat.

“You’re tantalizing, darling little human, and as you see it doesn’t go unnoticed. I say I see for myself the issue, learn ways to…Manage it. Satisfy it. To put back in order the underworld.” He grinned. “You’ll do me honor? Yes?”

You had no reason to say no, physically unable to, fighting waves of an incoming orgasm, but you made a feeble attempt of a nod as he kissed you deeper, the forked tongue prying your mouth and intruding at the back of your throat once more, if not deeper. Your shaky hands went to claim him, your mind so willing to submit to whatever his desires are, and not caring of the consequences. This was your everest.

It took a snap of Wonwoo’s fingers to divert the situation and he’s the one between your legs now as either demon appeared on your left and right of the couch. Their parted lips glistened from the mess, clear signs of moisture trailing down their chins and Adam’s apples, awaiting the instruction of the devil, but eyes locked with you who gifted them such an exhilarating experience.

“Return these insatiable demons the favor and I see to it that I…study your inner workings, mortal. Do I make myself clear, boys?”

“Yes, lord,” they answered, sitting up on their knees and presenting their throbbing erections to your face. You grasped at their shafts, tongue darting out of your mouth and rub the tips of their cocks along your mouth before switching off from one another.

Seungcheol’s hips gently thrusted towards you at his turn, a hand running towards your chest to tease your breasts as the other teased his nipples, pinching them to feed his arousal. “Oh precious, don’t you look darling?”

Taking your other breast, Chan softly whimpered, feeling his cock slide against Seungcheol’s, watching your face contort trying to fill up on both. “Fuck, rub our cocks together like that. You dirty little thing.”

The demons moved closer towards each other, staring down at you in astonishment and you inhaled them both with pleasure. Meanwhile, Wonwoo made himself comfortable, revealing the devil body with muscles, spade tail, and thick horns to match. You caught a glimpse of the view between the crack of sandwiched men, reveling in his positively delicious full form, and ached to know how he planned to use you.

“You look just as pretty eating as you are being eaten,” The devil kindly praised.

The tip of his tail feathered over your thighs before it flickered over your clit, seeing you respond weakly with twitching hips. He grabbed the base of his cock, growing in his palm before lining up to your slit, rubbing it against your swollen folds. The spade of his tail then slapped your clit, jerking your hips forward, and mouth sampling only just a sliver of his size. That’s when you thought to yourself you could cum right then and there, without hesitation as if you had been untouched for centuries. “So sensitive,” Wonwoo cooed, condensation on his tone.

He finally pushed inside you, stretching your walls unforgivingly, and hearing your moans muffled against the cocks in your mouth. Wonwoo bared his teeth, thrusting his cock and massaging your walls before his tail snapped at you again as it does every passing moment. And he absolutely melted at the effortless way your body responded.

You expelled a shallow breath before sucking the demon duo’s cocks harder–pushing them deeper–and fisting them in either hand, as Wonwoo’s presence grew inside you, pumping into you like an object meant to be used. And yet, it left a permanent smile of your face.

“Shit, come over here, old man.” Chan retrieved Seungcheol by the hair before shoving his tongue down his throat, passionately exploring him and ensuring he did the same. You stared up at them. Their moans were uncontainable, their lip moving in sloppily in raw, primal need—only bourgeoning your intense fixation—and your hips flicked back at Wonwoo as they continued to worship you all the while they started worshiping each other.

Chan teased Seungcheol’s nipples and Seungchcheol traced over Chan’s abdomen, both thrusting deeper in your mouth until they hit the back of your throat. They reeked of hunger and bliss, tongues buzzing against one another, and the only thing between them was you and their inseverable heat.

You winched as they stretched your mouth before you winched at Wonwoo’s size, having never felt so full in your life. It’s a symphony of sin and desire with no end, just as Wonwoo anticipated and he showed you no mercy as he took advantage. His hips snapped back at you like a whip, finding the spot burning the most fire and abusing the sensitivity over and over. Your legs were practically handlebars for his rage, taking out on you his frustration and impatience, plummeting his thrusts slick and thorough, practically jewels deep inside you.

If your mouth was free you’d ask for more but you didn’t need to as Wonwoo jackhammered into you, sensing your cum about to erupt around him. He scoffed, tightening his grip on your thighs. “That’s it, cum, you wretched little mortal.”

His eyes shut in pleasure, feeling you cum around to him in bursts while he was close. It was until he felt your dam burst in final flood reaching from your thighs to the vinyl floor that he pulled out without his climax, a layer of your cum coating his entire shaft and dripping off the head. His gaze ascended to the demons in passionate exchange, halting them with a single word. “Chan.”

The demon broke their bond, separating in a translucent string of saliva. His gaze averted to Wonwoo, noticing the shifting eyes of his superior and he bent over, taking his cock in his mouth. His mouth runs over Wonwoo’s explicitly loud, slurping necessary as he inhaled his entire shaft in one gulp and tasting you on him. “Tastes…perfect…lord.”

Wonwoo gently guided Chan by the back of his hair, brimming in delight as the demon boy vibrated around him, sucking and licking him clean Wonwoo of both your cum and lingerance of his. The young demon’s interest was palpable as he gazed at the devil with not only a sense of respect and fear, but a wordless lust untold in his round, glistening eyes. His hips–full and strong–gave into his aches, jerking into nothing but the ground as his cock swelled.

“S-shit,” Your voice gave out, marveling at Chan’s obscenity and growing envious as you desired to fit Wonwoo’s cock in your mouth. You fell to your knees, crawling over in a primal state to occupy the space beside Chan and taking a closer look, leaning into the demon’s vulnerable touch as you laid your hand on his waist.

“Don’t be shy, little one. Take it. Take my cock in your mouth.”

Chan aided you. Resting his hand on your cool shoulders, he raked through your hair, guiding your mouth over Wonwoo’s cock, and watched as your lips wrapped around him, engulfing as much length as you can take. “That’s it. Seek his forgiveness and you’ll taste his cum, pet.”

Chan’s lips brushed against your neck, exploring your skin and he tugged Seungcheol’s arm to do the same. You were at the mercy of the devil as the demons were at the mercy of you, kneading your flesh and memorizing the lines and curves of your body, tightly holding you in place.

You could feel the tension build running your tongue flat up his shaft and his tail’s tip tenderly brushed over the curve of your cheek. His eyes shifted dramatically as he gritted his teeth, hips taking your mouth at anxiously fast pace, and he threw back his head before his tail wrapped around your neck and tugged you closer. You winced when you realized the spade was as sharp as a blade, feeling it slice a sliver of skin against your neck. Neither you or Wonwoo paid it mind as Chan has already gone and licked the wound too, serving this whole ordeal more delicious than painful.

Wonwoo may have been the devil, but he was starting to explode like any other human or demon when it came to his climax and you took him deeper in your efforts, cheeks hurting and eyes watering from the pain knowing that the pleasure would outweigh it. Yet, there was more surface area you haven’t covered, and with that you can’t help but feel a bit of shame. You were still human yourself.

“Take his cum, precious…”

“Let him ruin your mouth, pet.”

“He’ll fuck his cum back in your mouth and it all be better.”

“You won’t have to worry about anything else ever again.”

Finally, Wonwoo could control his strength no longer and his hot load pushed in your mouth and down your throat, seeping past your lips as it streamed down your chin. Chan’s tongue licked the cum’s trail: off your lips, your chin, your neck, while Seungcheol stole it from your mouth, scrapping Wonwoo’s reminisce in every crevice of your mouth with his tongue, even what’s down your throat.

“Wasn’t that pleasurable? Very well. Now. The punishment.”

577 notes · View notes