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orchidyoonkook · 1 year ago

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The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG

Title: The Devil Wears Valentino

Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff

Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 10,488

Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM

A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!

A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much

A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.

Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....

Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word.

Intimate. That would be a better choice.

From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering.

The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony.

You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.

He’ll be back for another soon.

While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy.

Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts.

Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.

And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go.

Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.

Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between.

Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company.

Most of the time.

You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight.

“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”

“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.

Fucking incubi demons…

You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off.

You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.

You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”

Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges.

Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter.

They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot.

It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are.

You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back.

“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses.

And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up.

“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.”

There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.

“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.

It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.

Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is.

Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.

Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck.

It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.

He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself.

“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.”

To which you think again, fucking incubi…

Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night.

You learned your lesson.

So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung!

You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.

From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.

Which can only mean one fucking thing.

You just lost all your tips for the night.

Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it.

Fuck.

“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.

“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet.

You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know.

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’

You know exactly where it is.

No one else will touch it.

Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass.

No one serves him but you.

But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you.

You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.

You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year.

After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,

“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”

He didn’t take another breath.

A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.

“Thanks,” You’d said.

“It’s where he belongs,” he responded.

Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.

But he was more than pleased.

After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.

He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you.

Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it.

A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink.

Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;

‘One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.’

You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself.

‘Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,’

You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.

“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.”

He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.”

You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.

“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.”

“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”

You know the entire club listens in to your conversation.

No one calls the Devil by his first name.

Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to.

And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives.

No one except you.

What a funny little exception you are.

Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”

You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.

You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is.

“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that.

Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in.

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night.

He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker…

“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.

Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up.

You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.

Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…

Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath.

The King of Hell.

He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end.

Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon.

Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging.

He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.

You have to stay away from him.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.

As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully.

There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity.

“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.

Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive.

The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again.

Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well.

You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while.

All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was.

And maybe he is.

But not to you.

The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow.

You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him.

The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world.

And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you.

It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.

You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find.

Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos.

They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.

All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside.

Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor.

Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.

You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding.

You needed this.

A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system.

You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth.

“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing.

“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer.

You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.”

Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target.

In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own.

Yoongi.

God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.

Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself.

Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real.

And he looks like sin incarnate.

Fitting.

Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?

Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you.

Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on.

Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved.

Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.

They were all you.

Maybe his plan was working after all…

“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”

He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.

“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.

A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises.

“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”

Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night.

Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse.

Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him.

You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.

“What do you think?”

Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.

“May I touch?”

You don’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.

“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body.

This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.”

Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now.

Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening.

The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you.

“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..

Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant.

Beautiful.

“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says.

“My birthstone,” you reply.

“Your birthstone.”

You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.

“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you.

Makes you wonder what he promised.

Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers.

Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.

Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you.

Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring.

What is he doing to you?

“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear.

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck would you ever, but wait—

“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse.

Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes.”

You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.

Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.

Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’.

They don’t know about Yoongi.

They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him.

You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides.

You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it.

You’ve decided.

To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power.

To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years.

You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back.

But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.

You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.

“Let’s go to yours.”

“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”

Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club.

“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.

Fuck, you don’t want to wait.

And apparently neither does Yoongi.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes, but what does tha–”

“Close your eyes for me, Love.”

Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate.

So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil.

You trust Yoongi.

“That's a good girl.”

One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he��s going to dip you before your back meets something soft.

Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people?

But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.

What?

“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on.

Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.

“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.

Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get.

He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.

“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”

You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight.

There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent.

Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.

Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.

“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.

He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea.

Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh.

You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”

You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off.

“Please what, Love?”

“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”

“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?”

“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.

“There she is.”

Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs.

They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you.

Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.

“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.”

His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”

You nod, but that’s not good enough for him.

“I need to hear it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” He pushes.

“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge.

“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.

The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.

“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”

Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”

He spares you one completely unsympathetic look.

“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”

Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”

His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded.

Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter.

If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.

Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip.

“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”

He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.

He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue.

“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.

“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.

He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.

“Gotta stretch you out for me first.”

Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.

“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”

“And if I do?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”

Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”

“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get.

And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it.

Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt.

Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines.

“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before.

Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip.

“Fuck—”

Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him.

“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”

Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”

The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it.

Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it.

“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.”

His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures.

You’re the most powerful person here.

You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible.

And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know.

“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact.

Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets.

“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”

His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.

“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”

“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace.

You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them.

Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.

This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.

This is about you.

And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.

You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else.

You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal.

Perfect in every single way.

“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”

He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too.

“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”

You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”

“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.

“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.

“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”

The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back.

Not yet.

You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.

Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling.

Ever.

And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more.

He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence.

There was only you.

Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows.

And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.

It’s time for him to finally claim you back.

“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”

“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”

Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.

“Only for you, Yoongi.”

His thrusts stutter.

“Fuck!”

He’s coming.

He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance.

It’s the first time he’s said your name.

And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white.

You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need.

It’s yours.

He’ll make it so.

At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.

He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze.

You got exactly what you wanted.

He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented.

And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.

“What changed?”

“Hmm?”

“What about tonight made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?”

That seductive smirk makes an appearance.

“Yes.”

“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”

Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before.

“Next time,” he says. A promise.

You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking.

“What about you?” you ask.

“What about me?”

“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”

He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say.

“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.”

“My soul?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never asked for mine before.”

“Never needed it.”

At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”

“You.”

Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him.

You just know it.

“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”

You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless.

You never expected anything like that.

You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years.

Kindness. Patience.

The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better.

Because of you.

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”

You can do that.

“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly.

Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.

“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell.

He was yours now.

The Devil was yours.

King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Not thank God?” you tease.

Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

2K notes · View notes

embarrassingmf · 7 days ago

Text

clingy | D.W

PAIRING: dean winchester x werewolf!reader

SUMMARY: ever since you came along, dean hasn’t had a moment of privacy. not that he minds of course.

WORD COUNT: 558.

WARNINGS: not proofread, dean calls reader furball but there are allusions to other nicknames, very short :((

A/N: this is based off a bot I’ve made before, also in my eyes reader has like little wolf ears and a tail like in fanart you might see but I didn’t describe it in case some people didn’t want that :)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

It had been a few months — seven, more specifically — since you had started to hunt with the Winchester brothers.

And Dean was a little wary of you, to be honest. But you were a supernatural creature, a werewolf to be exact! It wasn’t a surprise he didn’t trust you.

But eventually he warmed up to you, mainly because he started realizing how useful you were on hunts with that enhanced sense of smell and hearing you had.

You seemed to warm up to Dean quickly, very quickly.

If he could describe you in one word: clingy. That would be the word he would use.

To put it nicely, you never left him alone. If he was doing his own thing in the bathroom, you’d be waiting outside. You were constantly by his side and practically breathing down his neck.

Like right now. Dean was making some breakfast while you were just watching him, not contributing in any way whatsoever. Although, he could probably say you were there for emotional support.

After a bit, Dean briefly glanced at you, seeing that you were only a few inches away from his face.

“Can you give me some room to work here, furball?” The nickname he gave you rolled off his tongue effortlessly, along with the countless other ones he had given you before.

You listened eagerly and quickly took a few steps back, your gaze darting from Dean back over to the food.

Dean noticed this and realized you must’ve been really hungry for you to be eyeing it like that. “You hungry?”

You nodded with a small ‘mhm’ and Dean chuckled.

“Well jus’ give me a few minutes and the food’ll be ready for ya.” He smirked.

“Okay!” You replied cheerfully, turning your head away from the food to look around the bunker’s kitchen. Something Dean noticed you often did when you had nothing else to do.

He let out a small huff, pausing whatever he was doing and turning to you. “Why don’t you go set the table? Food’s almost done. Also, why not wake up Sam while you’re at it?”

Dean watched as you turned and grabbed a few plates, placing them in the table and leaving some space in the middle so Dean could place the pancakes and eggs there.

He turned back to the stove and subconsciously listened to your footsteps rushing down the hallway to Sam’s room.

And by the time he was done and stacking all the pancakes onto one plate, you were already back in the kitchen with Sam in tow.

Walking over to the table, you sat down next to the spot that Dean always sat in. On purpose, of course.

Dean brought the pancakes over to the table and set them down in the middle of the table, sitting down moments later.

While everyone ate, Dean could see you out of the corner of his eye inching closer to him. He said nothing about, knowing that you just wanted it be closer to him.

It might’ve been weird that you were only this clingy with him, you were never this clingy with Sam or Castiel. He’d never bring it up though, mainly because he didn’t mind.

In fact, he enjoyed the fact that someone always wanted to be so close to him, no matter how annoying it got.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

tags! : @ryvkkr

feedback would be appreciated but not necessary!

#ayla writes #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester blurb #jensen ackles

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beomiracles · 2 months ago

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Kinktober request!!!

Huening Kai + cold temperature play

I’m thinking about a jack frost au where he plays with you with his cold fingertips…

Do your magic boo 😘 thank you!

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

DAY 15 : HUENINGKAI + TEMPERATURE PLAY — Perhaps the cold winter made your heart especially warm as it sought comfort. You huddle closer, frostbitten fingers twisting in the soft material of his shirt. — It was probably why you didn’t react when his hand slipped beneath your pants, already damp from the snow that had melted off of them.

Temperature play is a form of BDSM sensual play where objects and substances are used to stimulate the body's neuroreceptors for heat and cold for sensual effect.

pairings supernatural creature!kai x human fem!reader warnings reader suffers from hypothermia, fingering, temperature play, kai is a little weird, this can be perceived as a little dark/off-putting but it totally depends on your own perspective.

#serene adds ✎ hii mae baby !! I changed the plot up a tiny bit, I just couldn't resist pursuing the idea that fell from the sky just for me. but I hope you'll like it still :3

EVENT POST

It’s cold. Everything is. It was so cold that you suddenly didn’t feel cold at all anymore. The icy feeling had morphed into a layer of nothingness. That was how you knew it was bad. Because when you stopped shivering, when your teeth stopped clattering, it was then your body had given out. And soon you would be nothing but a statue in this eternal forest, frozen in place as the world kept moving without you.

But then all of a sudden, there was hope, light even. Your vision is hazy, and the bright snow surrounding you is nearly blinding. You can barely make out the blond hair on his head, his dark eyes as he peers down at you. He lifts your limp body like it’s nothing, and then he’s moving, he’s moving fast. The naked tree branches pass over your head, and you meekly try and guess where you might be, but it was pointless.

You could only hope that he was taking you to safety.

He brings you to a cave. You’re confused. But there’s light there.. And it’s warm, a gentle fire sparking in the center of the otherwise dark and wet environment. — You turn to the stranger who’d saved you as he sets you down on a handmade pelt. There’s something different about him, something inhumane. Something ethereal.

He turns to you with glimmering eyes, a small and friendly smile playing on his lips. He doesn’t say anything as he shuffles closer and you respond by gingerly backing up. Your back quickly hits the cold cave wall and you wince at the chilling sensation. The man, the creature, whatever he was, immediately reaches out, strong arms wrapping around your weakened frame as he pulls you into his embrace once more.

The soft mumble of incoherent words that fall from his lips make little sense in your ears. But you let him cradle you, not knowing how to react. After a while, you find that it’s actually kind of comforting. Your tense muscles begin to relax as you slump against his warm body, his strangely warm body.

You barely notice it when his hand slips from your back and down your side. Only when it reaches your inner thigh do you react, head snapping up from his chest as you shoot him an alarmed look. — But he only smiles. And then his mouth opens, as if to say something. He looks stunned, like he’s searching for words of a language only vaguely familiar.

“Keep…warm”, he finally says, and though his pronunciation is slightly off and his voice hoarse, you find solace in his words. Perhaps the cold winter made your heart especially warm as it sought comfort. You huddle closer, frostbitten fingers twisting in the soft material of his shirt. — It was probably why you didn’t react when his hand slipped beneath your pants, already damp from the snow that had melted off of them.

He moves slowly, fingers carefully exploring parts of you that you’d never let anyone see, let alone touch before. Your breath hitches as his index finger brushes over your clit, and the strange man’s eyes widen in delight. From there he continues, slipping an experimental finger inside and watching as you squeal against him. The rosy blush that rises on your cheeks spurs him on further, the subtle signs of heat slowly making its way back to your body.

It doesn’t take long for it to feel as if you were on fire. Everything burned and you didn’t know what to do. Desperately, your nails claw at his arms and shoulders, small whimpers escaping your trembling lips as your thighs quiver around his hand. — He’s added another finger now, it burns and aches in an unfamiliar way. It was scary, but you didn’t have it in you to pull back. You don’t think you’d ever want to.

Through lidded eyes you peer up at him. Up close, he looks ethereal. His skin is glowing, in fact, all of him was. You notice the shimmering whites, running along his cheeks and neck like veins, except these shine. — He pulls a small whine from you as his fingers curl inside your throbbing core and your eyes screw shut once more.

Just when you think it might be too much, the burn, the aching, the warmth.. Just then, it stops. Suddenly it’s cold again. Your face is cold. — With a confused frown, you slowly blink. Your gaze falls on his hand, resting against your cheek. It’s cold, freezing. The tips of his long fingers are a pale blue and you nearly gasp. But the strange man only hushes you with a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Too..warm…” He says, and only when his thumb flicks over your clit are you reminded of the ache between your legs as you jolt forward. The cold and the warm suddenly mixed, and it made you feel euphoric, a different kind of bliss. — Your jaw slacks, but no words come out. Nothing but the ragged breaths you take, and the small moans you emit, fill the cave. You clench around his fingers, thighs entrapping his hand as you nearly sob into his chest.

It was like you could feel everything all at once. Every tickle of your skin, down to the erratic beating of your heart as your orgasm crashed against you. — Fervently grabbing at him, you inhale the scent he radiates like it was your last breath. He keeps his hand nestled between your legs, the other one safely wrapped around you as he murmurs incoherent sentences under his breath.

Only when you with bleary eyes look up, do you notice that he’s practically glowing. The once faint white veins are stark against his skin, and his eyes shine as they meet yours. This man was not human. That much you knew. Yet you felt safe in his embrace. — So safe that you would let him keep you in that cold and wet cave until your body no longer endured.

kinktober taglist (send an ask to be added) — @sweetpotatogyu @aduh0308 @joieouioui @inkigayocamman @bambammtori @hkplushier @gyusoulz @eliluvsjjunie @velvetmoonlght @izzyy-stuff @hwanghyunjinismybae @lunathewritingcat @ninitorih @run4gyu @beestvng

#beomiracles ₊˚⊹ ᰔ #ningning’s dreams #hueningkai smut #txt smut #kai smut #hueningkai hard hours #hueningkai hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt x you #txt x reader #hueningkai x you #hueningkai x reader #txt imagines #txt scenarios #beomiracles kinktober 2024

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rayshippouuchiha · 8 months ago

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Hiya!

I've been having too many fandom thoughts in my mind (which is honestly not a good moment for, I have first exams next week lol) but I have been in a Bleach binge for the last two weeks, and also I've been watching the Mandela Catalogue (which, if you like analog horror, you should definitwly see it bc it is spectacular) and I have many hc for the series.

Basically, the videos include a type of supernatural beings called "Doppelgangers", which are able to imitate humans, invade their homes and kill them.

There are a couple of types of doppelgangers depending of how alike a human they are, but honestly I see them as eldritch shape-shifters.

One of the things I've noticed in a couple of videos and that I hc now is that they don't attack unless attacked first (but what they do... Well, it's pretty horrible), sooo... I mixed things and got a Plot Idea:

After the war with Aizen, Ichigo lost everything he was and everything he cared for, leaving him entirely on his own.

Everybody moved on without him, leaving him stranded in a turbulent storm he is starting to believe he can't survive without help. But nobody is left to lend him a guiding hand anymore. Without two thirds of his soul, he's slowly starting to wither; losing himself bit by bit one day, one betrayal at a time.

One night, Ichigo lay in his bed trying futilely to sleep and just managing a bare doze, house empty because his sisters are either in the Shoten or staying at a friends house and Goat-Face who-cares-where, he's all alone.

Except, when he opens his eyes, he's staring directly at a face.

His own face, in fact.

His apparent twin just stares at him, a weird grin a hair too big for his face, saying nothing.

Ichigo has heard about the doppelgangers before, of course he has, with every little town on alert because of the disturbing murders that are happening because of these monstrous creatures.

But he's just tired. He's just a human, and all strength he had left, his supposed friends and family had taken it away.

He doesn't want to fight. Not anymore.

He scoots over to the side of the bed, and mumbles something along the lines of "close the window, go to bed, wanna sleep".

The last thing he feels is the warmth of his room and breathing on the back of his neck.

Or where Ichigo is adopted by an Otherworldly shape-shifter, gives him a something to fill his void-like soul, making him a one of Them too, and when he learns how to change shape, the first form he takes becomes his default state: a shadow.

Because Ichigo has become a shell of his former being, a shadow of himself.

He finds no better irony.

(Sorry for the long ask! What do you think?)

Obviously this is super duper late but fuck i love this and i want to read it

#RayRambles #Bleach #prompt

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little-pondhead · 2 years ago

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Some fic because I love your au, Fenton is gender brainrot, and little baby dan cracks me up. Full disclosure, my only familiarity with DC is DP crossover fanfic, and a Batman movie I fell asleep during. (If I had a better grasp on the characters I would totally write more :(( i love interactions) also sorry for the weird spacing. Idk why tumblr did that

~~~~~~~~

There was an empty cardboard box on the table of the Justice League’s main conference room. Taped on the top flap, next to a doodle of Fenton’s logo, was a jump drive.

Heaving a sigh, Batman plugged it in and pulled up his screen on the projector. The drive, which was named “little baby dan’s evil playtime”, contained two files; WATCH_ME_FIRST.mp4 and its-a-secreeeet.pdf. He clicked on the video file, and immediately the projector filled with a blurry close-up of Fenton’s goggles.

After a moment of fiddling with the camera, Fenton stepped back, giving a cheery wave. His lab coat and goggles were a pastel pink, which was new. “Heeeeya, Bats! Whoever else is there! If you’re watching this, you probably weren’t there when I dropped the box off, aaand it’s probably empty.”

He clapped his hands together gleefully. “And Connie, if you’re there, this is payback for cussing around my daughter.” Batman was instantly relieved that Constantine wasn’t on base. Hopefully the situation wouldn’t require Constantine’s expertise. (Or any of the Justice League Dark. Fenton seemed determined to drive them all to an early grave with his casual refusal to acknowledge the supernatural air around him.)

“Now, as you’re all heroes, I’m sure you’re all familiar with the whole,” Fenton paused for a moment, as if searching for the proper words. “”You ate a burger on a Tuesday or something equally inane, and it kickstarted a series of events that led to you going insane and evil and murdering 95% of the Earth’s population and now you must fight your evil alternate self, because your time-controlling cryptid Peepaw said so,” shtick, so I’ll skip the backstory. Say hi to Dan!” Fenton grabbed the camera, and Batman quickly jotted down several notes about the concerning number of things the boy had just said.

The camera swiveled around to show Nightingale, holding a strange beast in a manner that reminded Batman of an “elongated cat meme” Nightwing had shown him when he was still a Robin. The creature bared a maw full of razor sharp fangs at the camera. Nightingale adjusted her grip to hold the creature’s paw and make it wave, which evoked a deep growl.

“Haha, he’d kill me if I did that. Dan likes Nightingale much more than he likes me.”

“Because the worst she has ever done is attempt to shoot me.”

The camera had moved, so Batman couldn’t visually confirm that the deep voice had come from the creature, but the voice didn’t match any of Fenton’s previously revealed companions. “Yeah yeah, her aim sucked back then.” Fenton gave the camera a toothy grin that was only slightly less unnerving than the creature’s. “Dan’s not technically me, he’s much more like Dani, actually, but the world would probably end again if we left him with his other... What did you call him?” Fenton glanced offscreen.

“Bane of my accursed existence.”

Fenton chucked. “The other half responsible for his existence.” Batman added more notes to his file. “So, yeah, Clocky left him with us for a bit to help along his rehab. But a certain psychologist-in-training I know says that repressing rage isn’t healthy, and even without a lot of his powers, he can wipe out most of a city in- what, an hour? We tested it. It was around an hour.”

Everyone present shared a look of deep concern. As if able to see their reaction, Fenton quickly held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t worry! Clocky reset it. Approximately zero people have died from Dan in this timeline.”

“Yet.” Came a furious rumble from off-screen.

“Yes, you’re very scary.” They heard Nightingale coo.

Fenton laughed. “Yeah, we need him- and all of you, -out of our hair for a bit while we concoct more evil plans, and you’re all the least likely to die to him, so you get to babysit! Thanks!”

He reached to shut off the camera before pausing and turning away. “Foley! Which of the furries is the one who really likes animals?”

“Man, do you realize how that sounds out of context?” Foley laughed. “I think Tim said it’s the little one. Damian?”

Fenton nodded and turned back to the camera. “Don’t let Damian try to adopt Dan. Or anyone. Dan will bite their hands off. I mean it!” To emphasize his point, he removed one of his hands.

Batman sighed and added “ability to remove limbs” to a list of Fenton’s powers.

“I’ll include a list of “tasks”” Fenton’s disembodied hand made finger quotes, “we gave Dan to keep him occupied. There’s some at the bottom for you guys. They’re mostly just blatant abuse of his powers for the sake of fun and science. I’d appreciate it if you’d let him mark things off the list and add notes on how it goes. Or you can do it. Or I can steal your cameras. Your choice.”

He thought for a second. “I think you’re supposed to leave, like, pizza money or something, but I don’t think you can get pizza delivered to space. Anyway, thanks for letting me blab your ears off while Dan’s probably committing war crimes for twelve minutes. For your sake, I hope he inherited my interest in space. Good luck! Thanks for babysitting!”

Waving with his still detached hand, Fenton ended the video. Batman closed it and opened the PDF as the few other members present murmured amongst themselves. Most of the pages were filled with a curling script Batman didn’t recognize. The fourth page had a huge, bolded header, reading JP TASKS.

The door opened and shut in half a second as the Flash burst in. “Superman!” The speedster wailed. “I can’t get this thing off of me!”

The Flash waved his arm around, sending small droplets of blood flying as he tried to dislodge the creature sinking his teeth into the speedster’s arm. Batman raised an eyebrow beneath his cowl as Superman quickly lent his super strength in attempt to pry the creature’s jaw open. Dan didn’t budge.

Well, he could certainly see the family resemblance been Fenton, Dani, and Dan. Shaking his head, he turned back to the list.

Task 1: Find Dan. He’s probably attacking someone.

He highlighted the text and crossed it out. This was going to be a long shift.

[Anon, this is me crying over the wonderful gift you have given me. You bastard.]

---

"Do you think Fenton's regeneration powers extend to his..." Green Lantern frowned, trying to remember the word the kid had used but coming up blank. "I dunno. But do you think if we cut off little Dan here, he'll heal back up with no problem?" He gestured helplessly to the scene in front of him. Flash was still screeching about the beast on his arm, and now Superman and Wonder Woman were trying to pry him off. Batman was standing to the side, silently bemoaning the lack of quiet. He just wanted one peaceful shift. Just one. Please.

"I'd like to see you try, hero. And I'm not little." Dan spoke, startling all of them. His grip on Flash's arm tightened, making the speedster squeal before releasing the man and spitting out a mouthful of his blood. Batman noticed that his mouth didn't move despite the clearly spoken words. In fact, when Dan closed his mouth, it was like he didn't have one at all.

"So you do speak!" Superman marveled.

"Of course I do. I am not unintelligent, unlike you lot."

Despite his pain, Flash still made sounds of protest that everyone promptly ignored.

Superman flushed. "I just wasn't sure. It was hard to tell in the video."

"Ah, yes. The video that the Fenton menace sent you. Was there a note for me in the flash drive?"

"Uh, no." In one of his less finer moments, Green Lantern stuttered over his words and moved in front of Batman, obviously lying. Dan merely growled and flew through both men, heading straight for the giant monitor. Batman barely suppressed a shiver. Density shifting? Might as well add it to the list. He could see Martian Manhunter, who was in the back of the room, tilt his head at the display.

Dan ignored the room as he used his entire body to manipulate the computer mouse and scrolled back up to the top of the page. Staring intently at the scribbles no one could make out, the heroes could do nothing but shoot each other nervous and confused glances. More than a few of them jumped when Dan chuckled deeply. Honestly, his tiny body was at complete odds with his baritone voice.

"Maybe rehab will be fun if he's letting me do this." Dan sneered, flashing their reflections a sharp fang. No one wanted to ask what exactly he was in rehab for. The little beast turned his gaze to Batman. "You are the one called Batman, who rules the cursed city, correct?" The dark hero nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. "Excellent. You will be my chaperone for now, just as Fenton decreed it. Good luck, mortal man. Pray, I do not destroy your home a second time."

Without any time to unpack that conversation, Dan promptly disappeared from view. Some blinking text caught his attention, and Batman scrolled back down to the English text, glancing at the next few items on the list.

Task 2: Do not let Dan read his portion of this letter until you have a way to track him. There is no containing him.

Task 3: Keep him with a chaperone at all times. (If you can)

Task 4: Do not let Dan back into Gotham unless you're fine with a sudden decrease in the clown population.

Task 5: Take him for a walk in Death Valley. He likes hunting lizards.

Task 6: Make sure he goes down for his 2pm nap every day.

Task 7: He'll ask for it, but do not give him any burgers for mealtime. It upsets his stomach.

Task 8: Dan gets ONE(1) sweet after dinner before brushing his teeth. Those green pop rocks Batman always carries will do fine; he likes those. :)

A sudden alarm blared from his wristwatch, making Batman tear his eyes away from the screen, indicating an emergency at Arkham. This time, Batman actually sighed out loud. There was more to the list, but right now, he really needed to find their new charge before he killed the Joker, from the sound of it.

#pondhead replies #anon let me kiss you on the mouth (platonically)#danny phantom #little baby man danny #except he's dan #supervillain danny au #god i can't get the elongated cat meme image out of my head #you are a genius #if you didn't catch it gotham was the city he destroyed #what did fenton tell him to do you ask?#well dan is very good at hunting #causing chaos and bringing certain peoples to justice all over the world #like a reverse santa #he also gave dan permission to go buck wild on the joker if batman brought him to gotham #if batman didn't STOP his escape to gotham #that counts right?#long post #dpxdc

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5eraphim · 2 years ago

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Can I request a oneshot of nsfw yandere sniper x s/o with a predator/prey kink. ;)

Uh, so this one went in a super weird direction- but like, Sniper is sososo hard to write for! I'm sorry if this isn't quite what you were looking for, but I tried my best to incorporate the prompt, while twisting it into something fun to write. Sniper isn't my cup of tea, but with this dynamic- („ᵕᴗᵕ„) I've wanted to write something a little exophilic forever, and this request seemed like an apt enough place to do it! I hope you're ok with the odd way this turned out, and I really hope you enjoy!

In this story Reader is a hunter hired to poach a wild beast terrorizing a local's livestock. But when face to face with the monster their roles reverse and Reader has to try and escape becoming Sniper's newest prey.

Title: Poacher's Pride

Character: Werewolf!Sniper 🦘 (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: X (MINORS DNI- YOU KNOW THIS AINT FOR YOU)

Content Warnings: Dub-con, exophilia, mild terato, Dark!Sniper, werewolf, breeding kink, angst-y ending, stalking, yandere, possessive behavior, mates, size difference, forced cuddling/intimacy

Work Count: 5.6k

TIP JAR

MASTER LIST

You were a hunter. This was a fact. No matter how unfamiliar the terrain or how fearsome the prey was, you were the one with a gun, the killer. So long as you had your gun and wits about you, nothing would change this. The less charitable would call you a poacher, hunting down the rarest prey you could find to sell to the highest bidder. Perhaps this was more accurate, but you hardly cared as long as you had enough money to keep food on the table.

Tonight's mission was nothing special, a report of a wild animal feeding on a farmer's livestock and unnatural howling at night disturbing the farm's residents. While you found it unusual that the farmer who commissioned you to kill the beast couldn't identify the species, as you'd expect one who spent so much time working with animals would know their predators by now. But the farmer was an older man, likely a bit superstitious, and feared whatever creature it was preying upon his livestock was some kind of cryptid or supernatural entity. Though you were far too skeptical to really worry about the paranormal as you listened to the farmer recounting his stories of this monster striking every full moon, the other-worldliness of the howls he heard in the night, none of which you paid much mind to, but nodded and let him speak anyhow.

Of course, it was easy to tell yourself you didn't believe in monsters during the daylight, but now that you were staking out alone in the middle of the night, you weren't quite so resolute. Despite your fear, you didn't move from your post; hidden in forest foliage a moderate distance from the livestock's pen, you sunk deep into the shadows. Milky-white moonlight illuminated the clearing around you, filtered through the canopy above. It was a full moon, and whatever it was you were hunting was sure to be out any moment.

You couldn't help but notice the absence of nocturnal insects you were so used to hearing on nighttime stakeouts. You couldn't hear any buzzing from flying insects; no birds were around, nor any other nocturnal creature you could perceive in the darkness. Making you feel all the more alone as seemingly every other living creature knew to keep away from this area while this elusive predator was on the prowl.

The wind rustling trees overhead helped break up the eerie silence that settled so heavily around you. As the wind picked up, you could hear the sheep beginning to bleat nervously, you swore you felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, but you weren't sure the sudden temperature drop was to blame. A tree in the distance swayed noisily, creaking as the wind continued to flow through the forest.

Time moved painfully still, and you worried the night would never end until a twig snapping in the distance caught your full attention. Your head shot toward the sound, immediately noticing movement in the bushes diagonal to where you were hidden.

You steeled yourself, gritting your teeth almost painfully tight, forcing your eyes to remain focused dead ahead on the rustling bushes, waiting at any second for some kind of creature to emerge. You were expecting some massive wolf, or a cougar, or some kind of hulking mammal to crawl its way from the bushes, but when you watched an unmistakably humanoid figure crawling on all fours from the bushes, you couldn't believe your eyes.

What you saw was like nothing you'd seen before, the mere sight of this creature freezing you in place; your mouth went dry as you lowered your rifle from the firing position with shaking hands. The beast sniffed at the air, turning it's head in your direction, eyes shining like shards of flint in the night, making your blood run cold, before turning his attention back to the sheep's pen. His head locked in their direction as he rose from all fours to standing upright, forcing you to realize just how massive this beast truly was. Your stomach flipped as the enormous creature's head tilted back to howl in some kind of hellish, animalistic scream, though disturbingly, with undertones of an unmistakably human-like cry. Like a man imitating a wolf's cry, but far, far more accurately than ought to be humanly possible.

This thing- it wasn't human, a man specifically. It was so massive you were too far away to guess its height, but you didn't need to come any closer to know that while standing on two legs. From the tips of its protruding wolf-like ears to its clawed feet, it was taller than any human you'd seen before. A bushy wolf-like tail flicked back and forth behind him, almost as distracting as the horrific way this creature's legs were visibly non-human, even while obscured under a thick coat of fur.

You were utterly horrified, but you forced yourself to hold your ground, waiting for the monster to look the other way, allowing you to raise your loaded rifle to a firing stance and pull the trigger. The sound of the gun going off cut through the heavy silence of the night, though the sound was nothing compared to the sound of the beast's cry.

To your horror, despite the shot sounding as though it connected with his body, nothing happened. Your eyes were wide with fear and disbelief as you watched the creature turn its head in your direction, eyes narrowing as it growled. With fumbling fingers, you pumped the rifle, firing again to the same effect. Your heart hammered loudly in your ears as you saw the monster continue to growl, not at all fazed by the bullets as it lowered itself to all fours, tail straight out behind before charging in your direction.

Without sparing a second to think about where you were going, you sprinted deeper into the forest. Too blinded by fear to realize how dangerous it was to run back into the woods like this, but currently, the only thing on your mind was getting as much distance between you and the wild animal as you could. You had a decent head start but didn't know how long that would last. Straying from the main path through the woods, you tried to weave your way through the overgrowth to throw him off your scent. While whatever it was chasing you down was much bigger and faster, you tried to use human agility to your advantage, doing the best you could to avoid getting clotheslined by any of the foliage in the forest. Earlier that day, it rained, and water still drenched the leaves and branches, soaking into your clothes as you ran by. But worse was the slick mud and puddles of water covering your track, making it all the harder to keep running as your feet threatened to slip out from under you at any moment.

The thundering sound of footsteps in the distance spurred you on. You were too scared to even look back; hearing the snarling and barking of the creature behind made you afraid enough that you didn't need a closer look. The longer you ran, the less light seemed to reach you; the tree's overgrowth was so dense now, the dark shadows of the forest warping your visibility, making you flinch in terror at the sight of even the slightest motion in the corners of your vision.

It was only a matter of time before the wolf caught up to you. It was inevitable. You were on borrowed time and didn't have much longer. Your fate was sealed when you finally lost your footing. Before realizing what happened, you went from upright, running full speed, to crashing into the dirt. You hit the ground hard, bracing your fall with your forearms, enough to protect your face and head, preventing serious injury, though unable to spare yourself the pain of the impact. For just a beat, you lay motionless, too dazed from the fall to move. While you were lucky you hadn't accidentally knocked your head against something when you fell, you felt the wind knock from your lungs. The feeling is not exactly painful, but struggling to breathe only intensified your fear and disorientation. You were so far from home, and the night so dark the situation felt more like a nightmare than reality.

Initially, you thought you slipped while running, but you soon noticed the feeling of cold metal around your ankle. Still in a daze, you craned your head over your shoulder, looking down at your leg, seeing a silver wire looped around your ankle, a snare. You blinked once, feeling closer to death than ever before, the wild fear flooding your mind now replaced with an icy certainty. You were about to die, and you could do nothing to save yourself now. Weeping bitterly, you saw the shrubs close behind parting, the monster's face for just an instance before you squeezed your eyes shut tight, ducking your head, wrapping your arms around yourself, curling into a little ball, and waiting for the killing blow.

Time stood still as you cowered in fear, listening to the stalking creature drawing closer, knowing you had nowhere to run now. While you couldn't see him, keeping your head down and eyes shut tight, you could smell him. The blood caught in his fur mats, the scent of the forest trapped in his coat, the gore from his hot breath. He was getting closer. You couldn't take it anymore, and as you heard another low growl and felt a clawed "hand" wrap around your leg to pull you closer, your anxiety spiked, making you black out.

For a long while, you were somewhere between awake and sleeping. Too scared and too dizzy to open your eyes or try to "wake up," but still, on some level, perceptive of the world around you. You felt like you were dreaming and silently hoped that if you were dead, the pain was already over, and this feeling of passing away would remain gentle forever.

It was impossible to track time, too woozy to try, too numb to care, but after a while, you realized you weren't moving anymore. Laying in a heap of something soft and dusty-smelling, gingerly easing movement back into your body by groping at the material with your fingers and toes. A fire crackled a short ways away, and the air smelt an odd combination of fresh and stale. And finally, with a little focus, you managed to open your eyes.

Apparently, you weren't dead after all, but you couldn't guess where you were now. Some kind of shack, probably still deep in the woods somewhere. You could hear the rain picking up again outside as tiny beads of rain patted against the windows and tin roof. Fire danced in a fireplace on the other end of the shack, illuminating the chipped paint on the walls and cracks in the plaster.

Your stomach dropped when you realized you weren't alone; sitting in the corner of the room, somewhat obscured by shadows, the werewolf sat staring at you, sitting back on his hunches, his yellow eyes watching you intently as you finally woke up.

Bizarrely enough, you realized the closer you were to the wolf, the more human he appeared. Despite the shaggy hair running down his neck and shoulders like a mane and wolf-like ears, his face remained strikingly human-esque. Aside from his yellow eyes and sharp teeth, of course. He looked almost docile like this, but you didn't dare move.

He crept forward slowly on his hands and knees, making you sit up to push yourself away instinctively, but when you saw the blankets covering your chest fall away, you realized you were completely naked under the covers. Gripping the blanket tight in your hand to protect yourself, you looked at him, bewildered.

"Clothes were all wet. You were shivering… Warm yet?" He spoke in fragments, voice low and almost raspy, as though he'd just started talking for the first time in ages. You weren't exactly in a bed, more so a massive pile of blankets and a few pillows pushed into the corner of the room, but it was better than being back out in the rain. You nodded, watching him perching at the foot of the bed.

In a weak voice, you managed, "Where?"

You were too muddled to find the right words, but he responded. The wolf-man seemed able to pick up on your emotions, even if you couldn't elaborate verbally.

"My den. Other wolves were out. You're safe here." He spoke bluntly. You felt safe assuming while biologically he was, at best, humanoid, he was intelligent enough to communicate and, judging by the dirty shack he called a den, lived a lifestyle not entirely unlike a human's.

"They won't hurt you here."

You didn't respond, just nodded. He was closer now, within reaching distance, but your back was against the wall; you could push away any further, even if you wanted to. His attention dropped from your face to the blankets you were nestled amid, reaching under the blankets until he found your feet while you eyed him wearily.

You tensed when he pulled them closer, pushing away the blankets to expose you from your shins down.

He began to lean down a little closer to your body, making you instinctively back up a little, making him pause, sitting at the foot of the nest frowning, looking at you with an almost child-like pout. "Won't hurt you. Can make it better."

You didn't realize what he meant until he gestured to the laceration encircling just above your ankle, where you caught on the snare. Now that you were really looking at it, it was a bit deeper than you thought, and you'd gotten a few other nasty abrasions from your little game of chase earlier.

Before you could do anything to stop him, you watched him gripping your injured leg in place with one hand as he leaned his head to the wound before running the flat of his tongue over the cut. You jolted, squirming a little in discomfort, but he wouldn't budge, ignoring your whines of distress as he continued to lap against the wounded skin.

Forcing yourself to breathe slowly, convincing yourself there was still some chance you would make it out of the night alive, you stopped fighting him, ignoring how his fangs would lightly scrape against your flesh as he licked up and down your leg. You had to suppress another spike of fear as he gently pulled the blankets away from you. His eyes flicked up from your wounds to your exposed skin for a moment as he continued working. After another moment, he pulled away, and you sighed in relief.

The respite didn't last too long, however, as he only pulled away so he could crawl on top of you, making your eyes widen, hands drawing into tight fists as you were unable to fully mask your rising dread. You held your breath until he stopped moving, sitting on his knees and elbows over your body. Despite the position, you couldn't ignore how bizarrely mellow he appeared. Very calmly leaning down to run his tongue along your shoulder, making you shiver as the wet muscle made contact with the sensitive skin of your neck.

Aside from your fear, you had to strain yourself to keep a poker face and ignore the light ticklish sensation you felt. The feeling of his tongue running along your cheek finally caused a break in your composure. "What the hell are you doing?"

The werewolf cocked his head to the side. "I'm grooming you."

He said it so bluntly, as though it were perfectly normal for humans to give each other tongue baths. While the shock and discomfort had greatly worn off by now, the feeling was invasive all the same.

"Still hurt?" the werewolf asked. You hated how heartfelt he sounded, confused why a predator species would be so caring concerning your comfort and safety like this. For some reason, you almost felt reluctant to ask him to stop as he looked at you with puppy eyes, not understanding why you wouldn't let him get closer to you.

"No, but.." As he watched you, you trailed off, waiting for you to explain yourself. After a beat of silence, he resumed his work. Snuggling his head tight up against yours.

"Don't want this-" You protested, but Harold sounded sincere.

"Won't hurt you." His words were muffled as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling, coddling his face against your hair. You went rigid as you felt him take a test bite against your skin, his sharp teeth just barely scraping against the side of your neck while his hands palmed at your body beneath his. While the nest you were brought to was comfortable enough to work as a human bed, the smell of the dog was too distracting for you to relax too much.

He moved his hands from your chest down to your own hands, clasping them with his own as he brought them from laying limp beside you to the sides of his scalp. Your fingers were instantly lost in the bird's-nest-like mess that was his shaggy mane.

"Keep them here."

He wanted scritches? In an act of morbid curiosity, you allowed your hands to ruffle at the fur, feeling his ears twitching a little as you brushed them with your fingertips. Your fingers moved on their own as they tangled into his hair. His hands dropped as you kept yours in place, and he made an odd, almost humming-moan, his tail beginning to wag steadily as you continued to work your fingers in his hair. When your fingers grazed the sides of his ears a little harder, you watched them twitching a little harder, and you couldn't help but stare, wanting to touch them so badly. He didn't pull away when you shyly traced a finger from the base of his ears to prod gently at the side, nor when you cupped your hand against the soft thing, letting you feel him up with curious fingers, smiling to himself, quite enjoying the gentle touch of another after so much time in isolation before now.

"What are you?" You whispered to yourself, feeling him nuzzle into you.

"Human once, something different now."

You were about to ask what he meant by this when you felt something hard grazing the top of your thigh, making you freeze. He was breathing much heavier now, pressing himself against you a little harder, pushing his pelvis forward to grind against the top of your thigh. You could feel the blankets originally piled somewhat neatly earlier starting to bunch up and the pillows falling to the side and tumbling in different directions. You could hear the sound of cloth tearing and realized it was likely the sound of his clawed feet getting tangled up in the blankets, accidentally shredding them in the process.

"Keep going- C'mon, more! I need more, more!" He begged and whined, still rutting against you, his hands finding yours again, guiding you to keep playing with his hair, scratching him behind the ear, doing whatever you were doing that was driving him crazy.

You felt an unwanted stir as he continued to grind against you, moaning and panting against your neck, into your ear. His hands separated to return to your body, wanting to feel your curves beneath him. As he continued to play with your flesh, you could hear the werewolf inhaling, catching the scent of something, pausing for a moment as he sniffed, his eyes drifting shut as he sighed, practically moaning out loud.

"You like this?" His ears were perked upright, and pupils were dilated as he looked at you expectantly. Feeling blood rushing to your cheeks, you shook your head, feeling too overwhelmed to think clearly. But your reluctance only excited him more. He grinned ferally, mouth opening giving you a quick flash of his sharp teeth as he popped two fingers into his mouth, coating them with spit before pulling them out, watching you with eager eyes as they trailed down your stomach until they halted just above your clit.

Without stalling any longer, you felt his two fingers pressing up against the sensitive nub, feeling your heartbeat increase and blood rushing south as he got a little bolder. Collecting the slick between your legs, using it to glide his fingers in gentle circles against you, making your breath hitch and your body tense up. How in the world he knew how to pleasure another human, you couldn't imagine, but he was doing a damn good job of it. You swallowed hard, he was much more adept at keeping his claws to himself than you imagined, and his fingers felt inhumanly big in the best possible way.

Everything was moving so fast; one minute, you were arching your back underneath him, and the next, you were face down under him. The werewolf pulled away just enough to kneel over you. The feeling of his hands on your waist brought you crashing back to reality, reigniting the fear you'd shamefully forgotten.

Before he could pull you any closer, you inched forward a bit, trying to keep your voice steady despite the wild beating of your heart. "It's not too late, just let me go- Please, if you just let me go, you'll never see me again! I won't tell anyone what I saw!" You pressed your cheek against the blankets trying your best to crane your face to the side and look at him but found no mercy.

"Don't want- you can't leave!" You paused, looking up at him, brows creasing. "Did he almost say he didn't want me to go?" you wondered, noticing how he caught himself, a bit of vulnerability breaking through his intimidation.

"If I let you go. You'll kill me." Before now, even when threatening or intimidating you, there was a note of playfulness to his voice that was gone now. Despite the morbid way the two of you met, he couldn't entirely hide his excitement of bringing a little fresh meat home and, by extension, not having to spend another night alone.

"I-" He didn't give you a chance to defend yourself.

"Tell me again, what were you hiding out in those bushes earlier?"

You were paralyzed with fear, your mind going blank as his yellow eyes narrowed and his voice lowered to an animalistic growl. His lips drew back in a snarl, bearing his sharp canine-like teeth as you felt his hot breath against your bare flesh as he breathed heavily. You wanted to make up some lie about only shooting him because he startled you, but you knew something like that wouldn't work on him. While the beast wasn't entirely a wild animal, he didn't possess a human's capacity for reason. And with a sinking realization, you knew no amount of begging for mercy, logical reasoning, or threats of retaliation would do anything to stop him. You were now just moments away from meeting your fate, and you could do nothing but accept it.

You might've cried if you had any strength left, but not anymore. The best you could do for yourself was close your eyes and try to flinch as you felt him peel away a little, sitting back on his haunches before pushing you over and repositioning you to lay flat on your stomach.

You could feel his saliva and some of your slick still smeared along your sex and inner thighs as he used both hands to grab at your ass, hoisting you up as he positioned himself from behind. Forcing you to bend your knees and arch your back up as he situated himself on his knees from behind. Just the feeling of his head against your core made you squirm in discomfort, though unable to pull away from his hold. You moved your arms from your sides to in front of you, burrowing your head in your forearms. The position was the opposite of dignified, but at least he wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing the look on your face as he took you.

"I can tell you're scared; I can smell your fear, and I can't say I blame you. But let's see if you'll make a better mate than a hunter." You couldn't tell if he was trying to comfort or mock you, as though that even mattered. The feeling of his tip prodding at your core told you, whether he tried to be gentle or not, you'd feel this in the morning.

The thick fur covering his underbelly helped to conceal his size before now, even while hard, but you had a feeling he'd be big. It was so odd to feel an animal's fur against your thighs as you felt an unmistakably non-human cock push inside you. While terrified, you thanked God he'd taken the time to prepare your hole.

While the feeling of stretching around his cock stung, but you couldn't ignore the satisfaction you felt; at last, the emptiness you'd felt was satisfied. You were expecting so much more pain and brutality, but the beast took his time. As though he wanted to make the moment last as long as he could. Given the sound of his labored breathing through grit teeth from behind, you could tell he was trying to hold back. Your thighs spread as you slumped forwards a bit as he pushed inside, making you bite down on your forearm to keep from whining.

"You're So warm! So, so soft inside- hah, S'good" He repositioned his hands from your hips to your back, shoving you down even harder as he pushed all the way inside. He was pushing your chest so hard into the nest it was hard to breathe. You had no idea if he could even tell what he was doing to you or if he was already so blinded by his own pleasure.

His claws pressed a little harder against the flesh of your back, not enough to draw blood, but enough to remind you he could do so in a second if he wanted to. The beast kept one hand on your back, the other sliding forward to meet your own hand. Using his massive hand, he guided yours from in front of you back down to your side before fully seizing your hand, bringing it under your belly, groping downwards and around for a moment until he managed to find your clit.

Forcing your fingers against your clit he growled, "Touch yourself for me. Wanna- I wanna know what you feel like when you come."

Something about the loss of control, the fear and adrenaline overrunning your body, made perverse moments feel sickly exciting. And you didn't hold back much longer, your fingers rubbing circles over your swollen clit as he pulled out and began to rock back and forth. Your body limply moving in rhythm with the overwhelming force from behind.

Your cheek flattened against the blankets as he dug his claws a little harder into your back, raking your bare skin as he began to pick up speed. The pain and pleasure overtook your mind as you felt yourself getting even wetter, your hand moving even faster over your clit. He was already so hard, but you could've sworn you felt him swelling up a little inside you. You didn't want to think about what would happen after he inevitably came inside you. The only thing on your mind now was your own climax, the smell of sex in the air spurring you on, making you hornier, needier, exactly like the wolf behind you.

Closing your eyes, you felt yourself tightening against the werewolf, your muscles acting with a mind of their own as you could feel your climax coming on; the feeling of your body so hot and painfully close to orgasm was driving him wild, knowing he wouldn't last much longer than you. And sure enough, with a breathy sigh of relief, you came. Feeling your body gripping against the werewolf as you grinded yourself against him, riding out your orgasm as long as possible.

The afterglow set in not long after, making the feeling of the werewolf behind you thrusting in and out wildly much more bearable. You gasped out loud when you felt him bust, his seed fucked deep inside your body while you two were momentarily forced to remain connected. Fortunately, this didn't last as long as you feared it would, and not long after his climax, you felt the swelling between your legs going down, giving you enough wiggle room to pull yourself off him. As far away as you could while he was still pressing his weight down on your back.

Feeling a bit more clear-headed after cumming, you began to try and pull further away from the monster behind, but he still had you pinned, and the longer you were like this, the more aware you were of the sting of the scratch marks on your back, making you feel like a cornered mouse under a cat's paw. Thankfully he eventually lifted his weight from behind you, finally allowing you to take a deep breath as he sat back on his haunches, likely enjoying the view of your abused body limp and sprawled out like this in his nest.

After a moment, you heard him shifting behind you, repositioning the pillows and blankets in his nest as you lay face down in the center. He pulled you from your stomach to your side as you instinctively curled into the fetal position. The werewolf propped you against some pillows as though you weighed nothing before sliding into bed beside you, gently coaxing your body from a tight ball to wrap around him, tucking your head under his chin. Burying your head against his chest, you could hear the slow thumping of his heart as his hands smoothed against your back and hair.

Everything felt surreal; the creature you were so certain would end your life less than a few hours ago now had you curled up against him like a teddy bear. Making sure you were comfortable and not smothered by his thick tufts of hair. Your self-preservation instincts told you to let him do as he pleased with you. The last thing you wanted was to provoke him into another round of what you'd just endured. But even without saying anything, you felt his head shift away from you to face you. His brow creased slightly in what appeared to be confusion.

"You're still scared?"

"I don't understand… Why haven't you killed me yet? You're a predator- surely you could've done it by now; what are you waiting for?" You bit your lower lip, hoping desperately he wouldn't take that as a challenge.

"You're not my prey anymore." To your surprise, he didn't sound upset, his voice notably softer than you'd heard all night, as though trying not to frighten you. You wanted him to explain what he meant but were too scared to ask. You let him pull your back under his chin, his fingers twisting around your hair.

"I'll protect you. But if you try to leave me, I'll have to stop you." As quickly as it had come, the softness in his voice was gone.

"We're one now. And the longer you're here, the closer we'll be." You didn't understand what he meant by this. You were still oblivious to what this creature was, and you were too terrified to speculate about what was now inside of you.

"You can't really think we'll be together forever after this, do you?" It was hard to tell if you were trying to convince him of this or yourself.

You wanted to believe he was wrong, a wild animal with no concept of forever, but by now, you knew he was far from entirely bestial. "I… I don't understand."

"We're mates now. We're bonded for life." You were well aware that it was dangerous to provoke him, but despite his bluntness, he sounded notably calm, and you couldn't keep your curiosity to yourself.

"What does it mean to be mates? How can you be so sure we're mated for life?" You had to choose your words carefully, trying your best to avoid saying something like, "your kind mate for life." to prevent the risk of offending him.

"I know so." He was so blunt and sure of himself that it scared you, and you had a bad feeling he wasn't just trying to intimidate you.

For a moment, he was quiet, as though trying to choose his next words carefully. "I've been a lone wolf for years now. It's miserable; I can't go back to that."

He paused again, and you were unfortunately forced to remember the monster curled around you like a fur coat was once a human and, to some unknowable degree, still was. You didn't want to see him as anything but a brute, an animal acting on primal impulses, but you knew this wasn't true. And if you were in his position, spending years as a reclusive creature of the night, forced to live in the shadows like a stray, you might be just as desperate to escape such a purgatory.

"But, I'm not like you; people are going to come try to find me-" The wolf interrupted Before you could finish the thought.

"I won't let them take you. I'll protect you. Keep you here as long as it takes for you to settle."

It wasn't a promise; it was a fact. Just as it was a fact, so long as the werewolf lived, you weren't going anywhere.

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spacedace · 2 years ago

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Okay here me out:

dp x dc writing prompt where Dani ends up exhausted (and maybe a little weak from traveling for so long, maybe she got in a fight and is hurt) and finding shelter in a nice barn with a friendly cow in it, curling up in a dark corner to rest and recover where she’s pretty sure no one will notice her until she's ready to take off again.

And because her form since stabilizing has always been a bit prone to sliding away from more human and into the more eldritch when she's tired, she appears less like a human girl and more like an more humanoid-ish shadow creature. Emphasis on the creature.

Damian is a responsible pet owner, he makes sure to go around feeding everyone first thing in the mornings, even on weekends, and because of his training he has a sharp eye for things that aren't quit right, so he spots this...thing curled up in the corner immediately.

His first instinct is to fight it - it managed to get past all their security measures, it's an unknown, it could be a danger to his family, or worse BatCow - but then Alfred-the-cat jumps down from the hay bail the creature is curled up behind and lands on it. The creature gives a pained little noise, but doesn't strike out or hurt the cat, just turns glowing green eyes up at it and meets Alfred-the-cat's little mrrp with one of it's own and buts it's shadowy head against the cat.

And Damian, maybe a little more tired then usual up so early after a long night fighting rogues as Robin, just comes to the conclusion that - while obviously a supernatural creature of some variety- it clearly has been adopted by Alfred-the-cat as a kitten and equally adopted the cat back as it's caretaker. And separating them would be detrimental to both.

So obviously this is just another pet for him to take care of, especially when he realizes that Bruce-the-shadow (it only seemed appropriate since Alfred-the-cat adopted the creature) is injured.

Dani is a little too out of it to fully get what's going on at first, just vaguely aware of someone that looks a bit like Danny saying something to her and trying to check on her injuries - he must have found her, one of the local ghosts must have told him what was going on - so she just lets him because she knows how he gets.

The rest of the family thinks it's a bit weird that Damian has been spending so much more time down at the barn recently, but hey it keeps him from getting into fights with his siblings and they all get the need for some alone time now and then.

Things only start getting weird when Dani starts realizing it's not her original/brother/father taking care of her but instead some kid her age, but by then Damian has started talking to Bruce-the-Shadow the same way he does his other pets, sharing the things he feels he can’t share with anyone else, and she sees that same loneliness and unwillingness to trust that she feels and really with the bruises the kid keeps showing up with she worries okay?

So she sticks around, even after she's all healed and could take off again, keeping her form shadowy and doing her best to keep an eye on her new...friend? Friend.

Cut to Damian ending up in some bad fight and Dani as Bruce-the-shadow showing up to save him and BatFam is concerned™️ about what the fuck that thing is, and Danny getting worried because he hasn't seen his clone/sister/daughter in a bit and she usually at least checks in by now and deciding to go look for her.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #batfam #writing prompt #damian wayne #danielle fenton #dani fenton #danny fenton #eldritch dani #alfred the cat #Elle starts hiding in Damian's shadow to try and protect him throughout the day #the robin thing is a surprise but hey she gets the vigilante thing even if that's more Danny's thing then hers #Damian is delighted that his new pet is so well behaved and seems to understand him so well #he's 90% percent certain Bruce-the-shadow is a Lazarus pit demon #and excited to have so easily tamed and domesticated it #the first time someone tries to kill Robin while Elle is there ends up getting eaten by a furious eldritch abomination and spat out again #Damian is so proud #Bruce is PANICKING

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sunlightandsuffering · 3 months ago

Text

HALLOWEENERY

I’m, like, 85% sure my neighbor/roommate is a supernatural creature, even though they technically shouldn’t exist.

Mikasa isn’t 100 % sure that her next-door neighbour is a vampire…but she’s pretty sure, like 99%.

What an absurd suggestion one might say, in fact even Sasha, resident Halloween lover had balked at the idea.

“Mikasa, you’re being ridiculous he’s not a vampire, he probably just works nights or something.” Sure… sure…

But since the day she first met him, Mikasa has kept a meticulous log of their every interaction, every thump from his apartment, every time she heard his keys jingle in the lock. And never once has she heard him during the day, not ever. Sure, the log had started out a little more subconscious than anything, he was hot, the kind of handsome that girls dreamed of, the stuff of daydreams and fantasies. How could she not keep a mental catalogue of every time she saw him?

But now, nearly a year later, as Halloween creeps closer, Mikasa has come to the disturbing realization that her next-door neighbour is most certainly a vampire.

Eren Jaeger. Even his name sounds a little vampiric, old, imposing, and vaguely German!?

Vampires were supposed to be from Romania! Romania and Germany were pretty close, it’s basically proof! And then there were his looks, there was just no way a guy like him wasn’t a supernatural creature, there’s simply no way a human being could be that handsome. He’s like her walking fantasy, dark brown hair framing his pretty face, that strong jawline, and those eyes, god those eyes, she could spend hours cataloguing every shade of green in those eyes. But forget his looks, the most damning evidence was the fact that she had never, not once seen him in the daylight.

And she had sure fucking tried. Mikasa had tried to orchestrate several daylight meet-cutes, it was actually what had clued her into his possible vampirism in the first place.

She’d knocked, left cupcakes, hell, she’d even started a fire (she’d gotten in major trouble with her landlord for that one) and all to no avail, not even the blare of the fire alarm had gotten him out of his apartment during the daylight.

All of this to say, Mikasa is pretty sure Eren Jaeger is a vampire.

Is it weird that she finds it kind of hot, in a very non-twilight sort of way. She doesn’t want to be cliché about it, but she wouldn’t mind if he sucked her blood.

And today, well today Mikasa is going to find out for sure. It is the middle of the day. Noon, as sunny as it can get for a brisk October, the sun shining gloomily over the clouds, turning her apartment bright in the sort of hazy grey way only October can truly accomplish.

Mikasa is wearing nothing but a towel, naked as the day she was born, hair soaked, just a little bit of waterproof mascara, and standing outside her apartment balcony freezing her ass off.

She’s locked herself out accidentally on purpose, but whatever, hypothermia is worth it.

She needs to prove to Sasha, herself even, that her neighbour really is a vampire. She has it on good authority that he hasn’t left the apartment since last night either, she’d made sure by camping out next to her door all night just to be sure. It’s now or never. Carefully, and with very frozen fingers because yeah it might be sunny, but it’s October, and it shows, Mikasa climbs over the railing separating her and Eren’s balcony.

The view of his apartment through the sliding glass door is unhelpfully blocked by large blackout curtains, and Mikasa scowls. But oh well, one point for the vampire theory.

Then, Mikasa knocks.

Once. Twice. Three times, four times

By the eleventh knock, Mikasa is starting to realize the flaw in her meticulously laid plans. The flaw is that if Eren really is a vampire he will not be coming outside for the life of him and as the temperature dips lower, the wind blowing the clouds high above her to block out the sun, she realizes very quickly she really could get hypothermia. Shit.

Her knocks begin to get a little more frantic now, tinged with the reality that’s setting in.

She is locked out of her apartment, on her neighbour’s balcony wearing nothing but a towel and about to freeze her ass off.

She infinitely regrets shaving this morning, her legs are delightfully smooth, soft to the touch but chilled to the bone.

The wet hair, she thinks as she slams her fist into the glass pane was a particularly painful touch, crispy now as it freezes over into icicle shaped points.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. She doesn’t even have her phone. She’s a fucking nursing student, she’s usually not this stupid. Mikasa blames Eren entirely, or maybe Sasha for hyping her up so much about proving Eren is in fact a vampire. With one more slam of her fist against the window, Mikasa, fingers numb to the pain now, knuckles bruising without colour because all the blood is leaving her extremities, she is finally saved. The door opens with savagery, curtains pulling back to reveal a very angry, very hot and thoroughly disgruntled neighbour. He looks surprised to see its her, and then as he takes in the full state of her undress, his eyes widen impossibly and the next thing she knows she’s being yanked into the delicious warmth of his apartment. “Mikasa what the fuck?” Her teeth are chattering too much for her to respond, and before she can really think about it, her traitorous heat-seeking body is seeking out the first source of warmth it can find, and it just so happens to be Eren.

Her arms are wound around his neck like an Octopus, her face tucked into his chest and she sighs in audible relief because he is so fucking warm. He is so, so warm, the heat is heavenly, she can barely think, plastering herself against him, and all the movement has her towel slipping and Mikasa doesn’t even mind, barely even notices. All she can think about is how warm he is, delirium setting in as she burrows closer, inhaling the scent of clean mint and laundry detergent, her face nuzzled against the soft cotton of his shirt. His heart pounds in her ear, pumping blood through his veins with the sole purpose of warming her up, and after a moment his hands are winding around her hips a little awkwardly to tug her closer. “You’re fucking freezing,” He mumbles, hands rubbing circles over her hips as if to rub the feeling back into her, and she pushes closer, craving the contact, her breasts squished against him deliciously. He’s so beautifully warm!

His hands knead over her ass, and she sighs in delight because she can actually feel it now, feeling slowly returning to her chilled limbs.

Her toes aren’t quite there yet, but wow his hand on her ass sure is nice, feels really good and oh… wait why is his hand on her bare ass? Mikasa realizes the gravity of the situation about five seconds after Eren has the generous curve of her ass cupped in his hands, kneading the flesh with the kind of single-minded determination she would find hot if she wasn’t so horrified.

His heartbeat is steady against her ear, thump, thump, thump, and the second realization that sets in is almost as bad as the first one. Eren is not in fact a vampire.

He is very much alive. And very much feeling her up in his living room, because she’d thrown herself at him, completely naked and slightly hypothermic. This is somehow worse than being trapped out on the balcony. Her discomfort must be palpable, her form going stiff and Eren chuckles from above her, the rich timbre vibrating over her whole body deliciously, “You want me to let go yet?” “No,” Mikasa mumbles into his chest, “If you let go you’ll be able to see everything.” She can feel him fighting a smile above her and he gives her ass an affectionate squeeze that has her breath stuttering, “Mikasa, I’ll be a gentleman of course, but I’d like to remind you I can already feel everything sweetheart.”

She would very much like to die now. “It feels really good if it makes you feel any better,” Eren tells her in amusement and she sighs, unlacing her fingers from where they’re locked around his back and slowly taking a step back, “It doesn’t.” “I won’t look, I promise,” Eren tells her and sure enough as she pulls from his grasp his eyes are shut tight, no peaking at all.

Mikasa chooses to grab a fluffy looking throw blanket from his couch instead of her wet towel, situating herself on the couch and far from his grasp as she covers up. “I would very much like to look though,” Eren adds conversationally as he listens to her throw the blanket over herself, “So much.” She tamps down her glee, answering him instead, “I’m decent.” His eyes open, green as the trees outside, and he fucking pouts as he takes her in, tucked under a blanket on his couch, “I liked you better naked.”

At this, Mikasa can’t fight her smile, clutching the blanket a little closer, “Sorry.” Eren sighs, before leaning back on his heels, arms crossed, “Me too, but are you going to tell me why exactly you were on my balcony naked?” Mikasa winces, “I locked myself out?” She hates that it comes out as a question.

“Naked?” Eren demands, aghast.

“I umm was just checking out the view.” “You’re unhinged,” He tells her candidly and Mikasa slumps into the couch, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I umm I guess you can stay here until the super gets back, he’s usually around at night.” “Thanks,” Mikasa tells him awkwardly, unsure how to conduct herself now, he was feeling her up not a minute ago where are they supposed to go from here?

Eren looks just as unsure, lip bitten between his teeth and looking her over like he wants to eat her up.

“So umm what were you doing?” Mikasa asks, because damn it if she’s not going to get an answer. “Sleeping,” Eren responds calmly, and very much not like a vampire trying to hide their biggest secret. “Why?”

Eren looks her over suspiciously, before responding, breaking Mikasa’s sweet little heart into a thousand pieces and proving Sasha correct, “I work nights.” FUCK!

“So you’re not like a vampire then?” Mikasa clarifies, as if this makes all the sense in the world. Eren does look at her strangely for a moment before shrugging, “No, I’m not a vampire, although I could see where you’d get the impression from.” Mikasa pouts, how disheartening, hypothermia for nothing. “I just work night shifts usually at the hospital I’m a nurse too, I’m a year ahead of you though, I’m doing my practicum right now.” “Oh,” Mikasa murmurs and Eren chuckles, “I should actually really get back to bed to be honest.” Mikasa nods awkwardly as Eren trudges towards his bedroom. He gives her one last curious look backwards as he opens up his bedroom door, “You coming neighbour?” Fuck yes she is. That’s how Mikasa ends up sleeping with her not-vampire neighbour, strictly platonic of course, she was still a little hypothermic he was just warm.

If there was some platonic touching who is to say, some groping, well no one needs to know.

It was all just to get her nice and warm again, and as a student nurse she knows it’s important sometimes that happen from the inside out.

#lys's drabbles #halloweenery

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blasphemous-lies-and-deceit · 4 months ago

Text

I'm sorry anon, I deleted your ask on accident. Whoever asked for Jongerry and "did you just hiss at me?" this may not be what you expected, but this needs to happen.

~*~

"Did you just hiss at me?"

"No, I didn't," Gerry answered automatically, and blinked when he registered what he just said. "Wait, what?" He stood up from his desk, making his way over to Jon's office, intent on getting an answer. "Did you just ask me if I hissed at you?"

"Oh, not you, sorry," Jon answered back, glancing over his shoulder at him. He was sitting with his office chair turned away from the door, hunched over something on the floor. "They're being a bit tempestuous."

"Who is?" Gerry brushed past Jon's desk to see what had his attention, and stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh, Jon."

It was a kitten. Not a very young one, it's eyes were open and legs were long and stick-thin, squinting up at them ruefully. Its rusty orange coat was covered in grime, sides nearly concave from poor diet. It was standing in a box Jon had obviously set up to contain them, with one of his old shirts in the bottom, paws on the edge of the box in a clear attempt to escape. Turning its face towards Gerry, it meowed, high-pitched and clearly adamant about getting out of the box. It was absolutely adorable.

"I found him in the alley," Jon explained, watching Gerry kneel and offer the kitten a hand to sniff. It did before mewing again and and making another valiant effort to hoist itself out of its cardboard prison. Gerry took pity and lifted it up, cradling it gently in his hands and tipping it sideways for a look. Jon was right, it was a boy. "There was no one around, and no mother cat, and I knew...I knew whoever had left him there wasn't coming back."

Jon sounded heartbroken, understandably. Gerry knew his Archivist had such a soft spot for cats, and even he was upset by that treatment of an innocent creature. No one deserved that.

"So, how could you resist?" Gerry teased, adjusting his grip when the kitten squirmed, squeaking at the undignified treatment. "What are we calling him?"

Jon was absolutely silent. When Gerry turned his focus back to him, he found Jon staring up at him with a guarded expression, as if he hadn't expected Gerry to say what he did.

"You said...you said...we." Jon swallowed, eyes flicking away and shoulders hunching up. "I wasn't expecting...I mean, I was hoping you would...but I didn't know for certain..."

He trailed off, and Gerry rolled his eyes and shook his head at him. Holding the kitten to his chest with one hand, he reached out with the other and grabbed Jon by the shoulder, giving him an exasperated shake.

"Why wouldn't I want to adopt a kitten with you, Jon?" he asked, sliding his hand to the back of Jon's neck when his Archivist looked up at him. "Pretty sure the Eye already considers us married, and I happen to feel the same as well." Jon was growing quite red at his words, looking oddly touched in a way that also tugged on Gerry's heartstrings. "So yeah. Adopting a kitten with you, it's not that much of a stretch." Gerry shrugged, feeling warmth on his own cheeks. "Might make the Archives feel a little more homey too, you know? And he's such a cute little bastard, how could I say no?"

Jon blinked at him, eyes looking a bit wet before he scrubbed at them, breathing out shakily. "Right," he said under his breath. "Right. Yes. Good, that's...that's good." He held his hands up, and Gerry deposited their kitten into them, watching Jon cuddle the little guy close to his chest as he blinked furiously. Somehow, this was affecting him more than their weird Entity-encouraged marriage thing.

Then again, their whole situation was already so weird in the first place. And just like with their supernatural nuptials, bound by ink and dreams and trauma, it felt...right, somehow.

"How about Jester?" Gerry suggested when the kitten flailed onto his back and started swatting at Jon's long hair. "Jest for short?"

"Yes, that's perfect," Jon agreed at once, his smile coming back so pure and genuine. "Our Jester of a cat." He turned his grin down to their kitten as Jest tried to swat at his nose, and Gerry slid his arm further across his back, until he could pull Jon closer for a one-armed hug. It was so strange, the feeling of rightness in his chest that didn't come from the Eye but from within, from seeing Jon hold something small and lively that they would both care for despite whatever was to come. Gerry didn't feel quite ready to explore that yet, but raising a kitten with Jon felt like a good place to start.

#the magnus archives #tma fanfic #gerry keay #jonathan sims #jongerry #rebelwriting #this has been in my drafts for a while #go. be free

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 6 months ago

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How do you think Sam and Dean would be with a teenage sister/Daughter who is a Supernatural creature?

Like a nephilim, the Reincarnation of a witch, a kid with demon blood (Like Sam), a fallen angel, someone who can sense paranormal activity, a dreamwalker or something like that?

Like... Imagine that this supernatural teenager is just quiet and they don't like to talk that much, so They just focus on things that hey like to keep their mind distracted from the fact that They aren't human at all, like drawing, reading, etc...

I think nephilim or half demon makes the most sense for an au (because I’m pretty sure witch is a learned thing, not necessarily something you’re born with, and the boys wouldn’t let their sister learn magic. Plus the demon blood thing, Dean already dealt with, so for sake of something different I’ll do these).

I think it would be super interesting if their sister was a nephilim, because they didn’t even know what angels were until season 4, so here these three men are, with a baby/kid that one of John’s old hookups dumped on them, and the kid starts doing all this weird stuff that no one can explain, and none of the usual monster tests work on her, so they have no idea what she is.

John would have such a hard time with it—he shoots first, asks questions later when it comes to the supernatural, he always has had to be, because it’s the only way he knows he can protect his boys—but he can’t, not this time. This is his baby, that smiles whenever she’s in his arms, and has the cutest little giggle, and always seems so scared whenever she accidentally blows a light or somehow ends up in John’s bed without ever taking a step out of her crib. That’s what hurts John—his kid is just as scared as he is when she does something supernatural.

Sam and Dean would have a little bit of an easier time with it, because they met her when they were teens, so they had some developmental time to get used to her.

John wouldn’t let her use her powers, not even to help with hunting. He didn’t know the extent of what she could do, and she didn’t want to—he didn’t think it was right. So she grew up more separated from hunting, because high stress situations could draw out her powers, and things went wrong easily when that happened.

She also grew up really quiet and reserved. She found it was easier to control her powers if she just kept herself in check. She wasn’t tamping down her personality, she was just naturally introverted and withdrawn.

After John died, she got really attached to her brothers. She got really clingy with Dean, because she got close to him while Sam was away. Dean knows how to calm her down when she gets stressed, and keeps her from losing control of her powers.

Once Sam starts figuring out his powers, both Dean and the little sister are worried about him because it’s nothing like her powers. Sam starts to be really sympathetic to the little sister, because even though their powers are different, he gets now how hard it can be.

As the show progresses and the boys mature, this is kind of how it goes—

—Sam is always willing to listen to his little sister rant about her powers, and he always tries to give her advice. He always tells her that she’s more than just her powers, she’s her own person, and using or ignoring her powers isn’t going to define her.

—Dean always knows how to comfort his little sister. If she’s really scared or sad or angry and her powers start getting out of control, he can bring her down faster than anyone.

#the winchesters #dean winchester #dean and sam #supernatural dean #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x little sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader

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sugarishapple · 3 months ago

Text

Possession

(Day 6 of Feedist Kinktober)

A not so small story idea I went to write this past week, but I had to sit down and edit it (as English is not my first language: this was fully written as such), so this is a bit... outdated, lol. But, it's a fun little magical and witchy scenario that gives some background for both Marshall and Gail. How canon is it is up my guess right now since I'm still thinking about the possibilities of going through this (or a similar) route for them.

Word Count: almost 2800?

There used to be a rumor about Gail that was spread during high school.

People usually muttered that she was a witch.

Marshall didn't believe it back then. It was one of the most ridiculous statements he has ever heard. He would understand that Gail was a weird and "creepy" girl who believed in the supernatural, and people didn't like her that much (the girls usually, and derogatorily, called her “Ghoul”)... but he never bought that all of her "creepiness" was because she was a witch (or anything else related to it). Gail, however, instead of being insulted about the rumor, always decided to play it with humor. Mostly because, after all, it turns out there was a partial truth about it. "My family indeed has some witch lineage mixed in. My grandmother actually taught me some stuff here and there when I was younger.” This is what Gail told Marshall around the time they started dating,

Marshall was a little surprised about it, but as deeper their relationship went by, he started to see the signs. That would explain why his girlfriend was so persistent and stubborn about the supernatural, about magic, about ghosts. Even if he didn’t believe it at first, spending more time with her showed him how passionate she was about it.

And maybe because he was used to it, or maybe because it was more of a hobby to her as an adult, he didn’t think much about it. That is, of course, until...

It was one of those days where Marshall was too deep into his feedism fantasies. And the thought of Gail being a witch (to a degree?) was something that suddenly appeared on his mind. It wasn't about magical potions or spells... he was thinking much more bigger than that. He was thinking about the possibility of getting possessed… as a way to get more into his own fantasies of getting fatter. "Getting possessed, huh?" Gail questioned him, with curiosity, while eating dinner. "It was just a thought," he said, laughing it off, as a joke, "it's impossible." "Did you think it is impossible, Marshall?" She interrupted. "I can attempt summoning something perfect for you, you know...?" "You... you are pulling my leg for all those times I teased you in the past, aren't you?" "Hah. I’m not joking about this, honey. It's a wonderful idea, actually... as expected of my Marshmallow~" She held his hand, caressing it and smiling. "I have been thinking a lot about a way to expand that waist of yours, and this is perfect.”

"Is it?" Still doubtful, he continued eating. "Hmmm." Gail started thinking. "I may need to take a look to my grandma’s old books. I have a slight idea of which creature we can use... who, even..." Marshall was astounded at how serious she looked at that moment, especially for something was a whim. All he remembered from the past at that moment was about a stupid high school rumor that turned out to be true because here she was, passionate about the potential outcomes of using her magic skills. For him. For her.

---

"Ah. Yes. This is the one," Gail held one of her magic books, right on the page she was looking for, "a demon that rejects inhibitions of the gluttony kind." She snickered. "Yeah… and it looks like I have every ingredient to invoke them, even."

Marshall gulped as soon as she notified him about it. He didn't expect it to be pretty soon. But, deep inside him, he was excited for it. The sooner, the better.

"You just have to give me a heads up to do it," his partner told him, "of course, I need to prepare a big feast for that, as well. Your favorites, everything you want..."

"How about... tomorrow?"

"You want this to happen... tomorrow?" This definitely caught her by surprise. “Are you sure?”

"Well, I feel like you are excited as I am, Gail." He smiled her back.. "Why waste time, right?"

Gail bit her lips. She knew Marshall was someone who preferred to do things in the more efficient way possible, without beating around the bush. She, however, still had some doubts, because she might be biting more than she could chew. A demon like that wasn't that easy to invoke although she had everything she needed at hand. But given that Marshall was on the same tracks as her, that was pushing her forward to do as much as he wanted.

"Okay, let's do it tomorrow. It is going to be a long day until then... I cannot wait to put my hands on that soft belly as it expands itself so quickly while you are under the influence of a demon..." "That's very specific, you know?” He chuckled. “But… I would be lying if I didn’t want to know how all of that may feel at the end. How little of me would get conscious while doing all of that under a demon possessing me? That kind of stuff.”

“Wow, who would believe you were this… kinky, huh?” Gail caressed his slightly round face before putting a kiss onto his lips.

“Heh. I wonder…”

---

It was a long day, indeed. Full of waiting and full of expectations. The demon summoning method had two parts, one of it was preparing a beverage as an offering, a “portal” of sorts which establishes the connection between the demon and their host, and the other step was a spell.

A foot note specified, however, that “there might be consequences. One of the hardest demons to persuade and please. Proceed with caution and risks.”

“Consequences?” Gail read the foot note again, and made her get cold feet. Of course, she knew, there would be risks about summoning demons like this one. Sure… but… shouldn’t they be able to risk it? She had to be prepared for whatever would be inf front of them, she had to make a good impression on the demon.

Reuniting the beverage’s ingredients and preparing it was a task that was quite easy. It was similar to brewing tea. The result had a bitter and spicy scent to it, quite flowery as well.

The table was set in a way it was like a great banquet, a big offering, full of greasy and heavy food dishes. It only lacked the two main guests for this feast.

Marshall was as doubtful as his beloved and beautiful partner. He was so worked up for the excitement it meant to fulfill some of his fantasies, but he wasn’t prepared for the potential long-term effects of a possession. Or even if he would come out of it without scars. What if they couldn’t get the demon satisfied? His mind was full of many questions.

On his side, Marshall researched a little about the aforementioned demon. And although the specifics weren’t too clear, he knew the demon wouldn’t be easy to get along with. What did mean “satisfaction” to a demon of gluttony?

“Marshall. I want you to trust in myself and this whole process,” Gail assured him as he was sitting down in the table, “if anything else happens. I will be cautious and try to cut the connection, immediately.”

He nodded and took a look at the decadent foods in front of him. His favorite dishes, fast food, and sweets. It was the first time that Gail prepared a feast like that for him. He always fantasied it, but Gail was never that adventurous.

“Overwhelmed?” She asked him, relaxing his shoulder muscles, to cut the tension.

“Slightly.” He adjusted his glasses. “It’s too much.”

“Too much, but still perfect for you.” She bent her head down to kiss his head, before reaching the tall glass of the tea-like beverage. “You have to drink this fully. Once it sets down, I will recite the spell.”

Marshall followed her instructions. He grabbed the glass, and gulped the whole beverage down. He tasted the bitterness coming from the spices. It wasn’t that any different from the teas Gail has brewed before. But there was a certain heaviness coming from it. He couldn’t explain how maybe it was because he was nervous, or perhaps he wasn’t prepared for what was coming to him. Licking the few drops that were on his lips, he posed his hands over his tum.

“How was it?” Gail asked.

“Bitter. Fulfilling. Was it necessary to be served on a glass?”

“The recipe said it had to be done that way. Now, relax, honey,” she squeezed his shoulder, “you and I know this isn’t the end yet…”

She bent down, and started whispering into his ear an old enchantment, full of words he couldn’t figure out. There were times where she swore she could curse him… but now? That’s how it felt? He was slowly feeling enticed by them. He couldn’t move and, little by little, it felt like he was losing conscience…

“Marshall…?” Gail asked as she was taking note of the state of her partner.

He grunted. He opened his eyes and started to evaluate everything… from the situation of his surroundings to the feast he had in front of him. He started to salivate. He smugly smiled and chuckled.

“Well, well, well. Is this all for me…?” He pronounced. “Splendid. I was getting too hungry…”

Gail felt it. It worked. Marshall wasn’t conscious in his own body, anymore. It was that demon.

Without any care, he reached the plates. The demon inside Marshall felt famished. He was so hungry, he wanted to stuff his face with greedy handfuls of all of the decadent food in front of him. In a similar fashion, the plates that were finished were easily discarded, while Gail was left to witness the scene.

On one hand, this what Marshall always fantasied to do, and it was something they agreed to do, sure. This was a face of him that Gail wanted to presence, and she wished that her Marshmallow would show her more frequent, the one where he was dominated by a ravenous hunger while wolfing down everything without restraints. Slightly slobby, even. But Marshall was still quite shy with all of this, especially in front of her. This was an eager Marshall that she usually wished for, including some of his gestures, from everything as grabbing his belly as a way to measure how full he was, to slapping it as a belch came out from his chest, all while his shirt was riding up as his stomach was expanding. All with a greedy smile where he communicated he wanted more.

Understandably, it was an astounding scene that made her aroused as more and more as it progressed… but it made her understand one thing: as much as it looked like Marshall was being a gluttonous pig… it wasn’t him. It wasn’t her beloved Marshall.

“You are the witch that summoned me, aren’t you?” The demon talked to her, using the voice of her Marshmallow. His breath was heavy and burpy. “I underestimated the ones of your kind. You have lots of guts to bring me here. You may know that I’m not easy to please… but there’s something about this human host that makes me… needed. Is that the word? Lucky him. I share his desires, and, perhaps, yours too.”

He let out a wet belch, which made Gail’s face to turn red. He eventually let his hand reach to hers.

“I can sense your desires, too. You sure are a watcher. An admirer. An enabler… you surely want him to get big, as much as he does.”

Gail held his hand, and followed his guidance, putting it against his belly. It was gurgling and digesting.

“Well... take a look at that. You seem to love the idea of his waist getting wider, don’t you?” He made her to slid down the elastic waistband of his pants, revealing his big and round stuffed belly, covered by the red marks that were left by his clothes. “Amazing what he can do with my help, right?”

She nodded, agreeing.

“Just imagine it. Always a little hungry. Always wanting to satisfy it… but never that full. This is just part of the result.”

Enticed by the way the demon talked to her, she started to give his tum some rubs, enjoying the pleasant feeling of his soft yet hard belly.

He started to moan as he felt her hands’ movements all over his torso.

“Ga… Gail…” He grunted, this being more Marshall than the demon himself. It was like he would easily recognize the hands of his beloved partner, even in such state.

She quickly took notice about that.

“Marsh… oh, Marshall. You are doing great, honey…” She told him. “You are feeling so… so good…”

He nodded.

“You know… your hands have always been… amazing… I love them… I love you so much...” He responded, before getting interrupted by the demon, “...Huh. I see why this host loves it so much… it makes me want to keep going, so your hands wouldn’t stop doing this...”

“...I want him back.” Gail pronounced, decisive, as soon as she stopped rubbing him. “Once you finish this feast… I want my Marshall back.”

There was a look in Gail’s eyes that the demon was trying to decipher. It was an unknown feeling for him. But he was, enchanted to say the least. Was it loyalty? Was it what they called “love”?

He started cackling. “Hahah, oh, witch… you and your beloved amuse me a lot. You talk as if I’m going to stay forever in this host’s body.” He inspected his hands, and looked back at her. “But, I have changed my mind. I will make a little deal with you. Let’s say I will be your ‘little enabler’, wouldn’t it be better for you and me?”

“An… enabler?”

“Let’s put it this way.” The demon gestured as he was feeling Marshall’s body in a more intimate manner. “I will let him succumb to his hunger and gluttony desires. I will make his metabolism much more slower, as well. Making him fatter faster would be a good thing for you, right~? All of this feast is going to make wonders on him, that’s for sure”.

Gail was perplexed. “There was a foot note in my grandmother’s book, are these the consequences it was referring to?”

“The consequences…? Oh, dear. Hahah!” The demon laughed. “Oh, no, no. Of course there are consequences... But not for you two. This is a reward, a present from me. I will leave part of my essence in him”.

“Hmmm.” She went thinking. “How do I know you aren’t lying?”

“You are more of a skeptic than him, looks like. But, I will tell you something useful for the future. Those magic books? They are not a joke.” He replied. “I can feel the power of your ancestors through you. And, besides… why would I trick you? This feast? It was wonderful.” He grabbed a handful of pecan pie, before stuffing it into his (Marshall’s) mouth. “No one has gone this far in less of a whole day. I like you both, witch.” He talked with his mouth full, before gulping it all down.

---

Marshall grunted. He was not even sure how long he has been sleeping. All he knew was that he was feeling slightly full… and that there was a slight cold breeze over his exposed tum.

“How long has it… been?” He reached his hand up to his gut, noticing it a little more flabbier than before. “Huh, that’s definitely new.”

“Hey, Marshmallow. Good morning~” Gail gave him a kiss. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a rock. I don’t remember much after the demon possessed my body. But, I suppose it worked.” He jiggled his softer belly.

“Of course it worked. He even left us a little gift”.

“You look pretty nonchalant for whatever it has to be as a gift. Wasn’t the demon supposed to be hard to please?”

“Apparently,” she responded, “we were all good. He seemed to like us both. And he left us something to enjoy later. This,” she pointed his softer belly, “is just part of it.”

“Uhuh,” he nodded as he passed his hand all over his gelatinous belly, inspecting it. “Well, I suppose this fat definitely wouldn’t be made in less of a day under very normal consequences.”

“How do you feel about it?” She asked.

“Well, it doesn’t feel too bad…” Marshall gave it some rubs, before looking at her again. “But I will appreciate it even more if you give me a hand, you know…?” He gave her some bedroom eyes, a message she understood quite well.

Gail smiled. “Of course. I want to help you out with that…”

#feedist kinktober #feedist kinktober 2024 #original characters #original fiction #weight gain #wg text #weight gain fiction

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