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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 years ago

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eternally, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: A creature in love with his creator, the void deity that will eventually consume all life essence.

warnings: rated M (18+) – character death and undeath; light descriptions of gore; mentions and interpretation of death (perhaps skip if you have death anxiety); supernatural; drinking blood; gothic romance? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯; smut (fem reader, fingering, m-receiving oral, unprotected vamp/god sex); non-idol!AU - vampire?Jungkook x void/death deity!reader

honestly I completely understand if you don't read this because quite frankly you're about to realize the inner workings of my mind are absolute WACK

“Are you afraid of death?”

You thought about it. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

You stared into those eyes, dark orbs made darker in this low light, and thought about it again.

“I’m sure.”

His knuckle caressed your cheek, hardness to softness, creating a strange pressure of bone to bone, jaw to finger joint, and you tilted your head to relieve the feeling, but he silently refused, pressing harder. You let it be, watching his eyes trace the shape of your lips.

“Why not? Aren’t you missing out on so many things? Won’t you be the cause of sadness for those that care about you?” he asked softly, silvery sweet with a hint of smoke, a gritty heaviness that was unsettling if someone else was listening but, to you, what was unsettling was comforting.

Natural.

“You miss out on many things when you’re alive,” you said, and he breathed in your words, his lips parting and inhaling, creating a sudden cold from his action. “And I’m the cause of many emotions, as well as trouble.”

You saw him grin from your periphery, a chasm of white in the darkness.

“Your humor is so sexy.”

You reached up. There was a thin cording holding the two sides of his frilled white shirt together. It was simply there for decoration. He could probably easily pull it over his head, but you hooked a finger at the top, slowly unlacing it.

“Don’t do that,” he hissed with an edge of annoyance.

“I like to make you wait.”

“You always make me wait.”

There was a childishness to his words that didn’t quite fit his face. Sharp eyes shifted to yours, lifting his chin, angles and curves, and then a flash of a small dot just under his lips. Innocent little mole that hid in the shadow of his lower lip, and now those lips parted as you pulled the white cord away, exposing his chest, skin pale now and, if you were close enough, littered with creeping dark veins under the transparency.

Missing.

He was missing something.

You leaned in and he inhaled sharply, backing up.

You breathed onto his skin.

“It doesn’t have to be me.”

The growl from his throat shivered and shook, like a dying leaf.

“It has to be you.”

You placed your hot tongue on the pocket between his collarbones and left a warm, dripping stripe of possessive spit down his exposed chest. Hot to cold, texture to smooth. Underneath the pulse of your wandering tongue there was only a whisper of thunder, slow and agonizing, the warning sign of the timeless on the edge of time.

“Tell me who you are,” he shuddered, closing his eyes at the feeling of your tongue.

You chuckled. He liked the little speech. You wondered why. Maybe it made him feel alive, listening to it. Maybe it made him feel smaller in this vast universe, knowing there was something grander. There was comfort in that. Maybe he just liked to know there was forever, because there was a time that forever was unreachable, but now it wasn’t.

He had you now.

You drew back, hot exhale falling from your mouth.

He leaned forward. His eyes half-open, drunk and attentive. All around you and him was darkness, but in his eyes was light, burning, burning bright.

“I am the black tongue, the God without a name,” you murmured, softly at first, and then stronger as he neared, his lips forming your words so that he was mirroring them as you spoke them. “The nothingness breathes, the hollow seeks, the abyss is me. I come for all and all to none. To dance the line is to live at the whim of the void, and you, Jeon Jungkook…”

He leaned in, lips to lips, breathless with the endless hunger.

“I am the whim of the void.”

Heat to cold and he took your breath away.

You stood at the side of the road, amongst the flowers.

Admired the photo.

He was heavenly and he had asked to be trapped in hell.

You came for all and all were to become none. That was the deal. You never said it was a fair deal. It was just the deal and you weren’t meant to change it. Not because there was something to report to, but more because the nothingness was meant to welcome all. Eventually. Occasionally, though, you crouched over a body and eyes found yours, beautiful dark brown eyes surrounded in blood, matted black hair haloed onto dirty asphalt.

Some would beg.

Some would cry.

Some would run.

You tilted your head, looking down at him.

You reached down and there was a fire within, passion undying, and he stared at you, large eyes knowing this was the end, surrounded by scraps of metal and a mangled tire that matched his mangled body. Once a source of pride and now the motorcycle was nothing more than mashed junk. The moment must have been a bit strange for him. You weren’t sure what he expected, but probably not a woman with spindly and lithe movement swaying towards him, covered in tendrils of dark clouds, draped in blackness that seemed to contain endless space that constantly swallowed the stars.

Everything collapsed within.

All to none.

Until the end, he breathed with every ounce of strength he had. Like he was gripping onto every second, every last fragment of shock that become pain that bled into euphoria because this was the end, there was nothing else, his organs were collapsing as his blood leaked out and sunk into the cracks of the road. This mountain road was empty. He was alone. No one knew he was here. No one was coming. You reached down, grasped his life essence. He continued breathing even when gazing into futility.

It seemed a waste to swallow this star, for now.

You twisted your hand and he woke up.

He became the endless hunger.

The ancient ones called you an old god. The modern ones forgot you existed and created new gods, gods to explain. To define the nothingness and the hollow thereafter. Either way, it did not counteract or change your existence. You suspected you could die, as all things could die, but you couldn’t really fathom how. Perhaps when all things were consumed and there was no more to make none, then you would cease to exist.

Until then, you toyed with the fabrication of death.

In all fairness, the various ideas of death the modern ones argued over may or may not have been your fault. Eternity was boring, after all, if you did the same thing until the end of time. Sometimes you snuffed the fires of life out immediately. Sometimes you let a piece linger, a shell of its former self, a spectral fragment you let wander until you felt like collecting. Sometimes you clawed and tortured it, twisting the essence into a new creature, a different one, and released it, a half-life crawling among the worlds until it could take no more and begged for collection. Sometimes you reformed it, mashed it with something else and let it rekindle to burn again.

In every shadow.

In every reflection.

In everyone, you waited.

All to none, by your hand.

But this one burned and burned, and you tilted your head, watching him die and seeing his life essence burn. You couldn’t remember if he could have been an idle creation of yours or a planned composition ages ago or some other entropy within you, so you decided to observe him longer as the endless hunger.

When he woke up, he reached out to touch your hand.

The physical form was only there if it was believed. With the modern ones, they had no recollection of the old gods or the void. But he burned, the undying passion, and he believed. In what, you were unsure of. Maybe he imagined this form for you when you arrived to him. You weren’t completely sure if you had a true form. There was no starting point except the sudden snap into being but you had no recollection of that because there had been no need to recollect. You could only pinpoint a few stages of eternity. There was no concept of time for you; there was no meaning in it.

You were only aware of time passing as beings slowly but surely forgot you existed in this expanding universe.

“Who are you?”

His voice was a whisper, a shudder, a dying leaf.

You told him then.

He seemed confused. You saw he maintained some memory of who he previously was. Sometimes that happened. There was no certain intention when you acted on a whim. You weren’t seeking a particular outcome this time except the instillation of amplifying his passion into something grander. The various effects usually depended on the quality of the essence.

He held your hand and used his other hand to graze his clothes still caked in blood and torn tissue. His own. He pushed his own fresh remains around. Still wet, liquid red pooling at his fingertips, and he brought it to his lips.

Jungkook tasted his blood.

Hunger.

It was palpable, stemming from his very being.

“Am I dead?” he asked you, brown eyes rising, and there was fear, despair, sadness.

You tilted your head.

“What is death?” you asked him in return, clad in layers and layers of endlessness that leaked into every crack of the universe to collect the all that would become none. “Is it when the thoughts cease? When the heart no longer beats? When there is nothing to believe in?”

He looked down at your hand. It was a normal human hand, by his standards.

“You’re warm.”

Jungkook raised his eyes after his observation. Clothes torn, covered in blood, craving blood.

“You’re Death, aren’t you?” he asked.

You corrected him. “I am what lies at the end of eternity.”

He nodded.

“Are you lonely?”

You stared into the undying passion.

“I am alone.”

You were not holding his hand, but he was still holding yours. You turned your fingers, interlocked them with his. His fingers were cold, but you were the heat, the heart of the void. You stared at him; his essence becoming your art. You seemed to remember now.

The hunger to feel everything before it becomes nothing.

You leaned in and breathed into Jungkook’s mouth, letting him moan into your lips.

It was the possibility of erasure that made art precious.

Of course, in the layers of the void, there was blood.

There was always blood.

Jungkook pierced his teeth into your wrist and the blood poured in. Warm, red, a different kind of blood than the mortals that surrounded him. Rich, celestial, and divine, the beginning of his eternity and the end of all things, pouring and pouring into his throat, coating his lips and sliding over his chin. He drank greedily, latching on. Dark, viscous, and with the hint of collapsing stars, brimming with so much life that it threatened to pull him down into your arms.

He collapsed, panting, red blood pooling down his chest in rivets of heat that burned his cold skin.

You ran the fingers of your other hand through his black hair, damp with sweat, chuckling.

“You take too much, as always.”

His tongue was on your forearm, lapping weakly, clutching your limb with astonishing strength. Color flared into his skin, tan and lustrous, supple with life that you wondered if he could contain. He looked up at you as you chided him, and there was defiance and desire, running his tongue over the blood, smearing his chest onto yours.

The layers of the void opened, hot skin to skin, separated by the thinnest film of blood.

You wondered the shape of your corporeal form was because he believed, because he wanted, because he was the essence of undying passion.

He went back to your wrist, but it was sealed now, closed by the stitches of infinity.

“No… please…”

You ran your fingers through his hair, nails over his scalp.

“Shhh. Enough for now.”

Art required a certain restriction, after all. You had to know when to stop.

His lips trailed your arm, up and up, scalding tongue scavenging what was left, shaking breath and frustrated at the denial, pointed teeth at your throat. An evolution of his original form, possibly an effect of your blood swarming through his mortal body. He still retained his original face though, his sense of self that he wanted to see.

His breath was hot now, teeming with life.

His fingers curled into your hair, the strands slipping through his knuckles so he gripped tighter, harder, lines burning through your being like white lightning in a black clouded sky. Higher, eye to eye, and then his lips touched yours. Metallic, exquisite, hungry. You gazed at him through lashes and he gazed back as your own blood seeped onto your tongue.

Those infinite astral workings, painted onto your tastebuds by Jeon Jungkook.

He was becoming your creation, your greatest work, and you didn’t even know you could have one to desire above all others.

Your fingers curled around his belt and you pulled it apart.

You tilted your head and caught his tongue, running your teeth across it, feeling and hearing his moan at the same time. He could feel a little of what you felt now. Every tendril of shadow, every shuddering last breath, essences melting into nothingness, into you, into him, blood between tongues and heat that knew no end, eternity between your bodies.

You could taste his greed for life and you fed it, gifting him with the endless hunger. You thought he would cave, surely. Most did, knowing they were monsters and that knowledge became insanity. Some embraced it and abused it to the edge of infinity, but at the edge of infinity was always you and you extinguished them without much thought. They didn’t… feel.

There was no…

Passion.

He ran his lips down your chest, grabbing your sides. Flesh and blood and bone under his fingertips, and skin at his tongue that turned him electric. There was no connection like this, not for him. The humans he tasted were a mere shadow of death and they did not compare to the taste of what created him. You could see it in his hunger, in the viscosity of his saliva mixed with blood, in the way his eyes rolled back with his lips around your nipple, his other hand on your breast, a mix of soft and hard, tension rising all over his body above yours.

A dreamlike nightmare, the undying passion and the void that consumed all.

You had seen the humans he feasted on. You came for all and all to none. His path to destruction could be argued as necessity, but you knew better. A vampire was a myth born from humanity. Jungkook wasn’t that. He was the whim of the void. He could stand in the sun and seduce the flowers. Because fragments of you rooted him to life, he could bend the essence of others onto his will with his mere suggestion. And death?

Why, that was how you met and continued to meet.

Stabbed, shot, run over. Hunted, trampled, torn apart. He could be gutted and you could reseal him with stardust, pristine and beautiful, back onto his own two feet like absolutely nothing happened. He lived many different lives, falling into different roles and exploring the curiosities held within the world, but they were not enough.

The endless hunger craved the end, and the end was you.

Perhaps he knew you could extinguish him at any time, but perhaps he also found a twisted pleasure in you extending his time. He was feasting less and less on humanity. More and more, he walked the edge of infinity, let himself starve in this grand mansion he somehow obtained, a silent shadow waiting to join the abyss.

And you would come, and he would live again.

You almost asked him each time if he wanted to beg for the nothingness, but then you would look into his eyes and they burned, burned bright despite his cold skin and paper-thin voice, just like the first time he died, and so you granted him the blood of the void each time.

You raked your nails down his back and watched his body entangle with pain.

Maybe you could call him your primary worshipper now. Not that you had any others, not since the ancient ones. You had walked among them then and they had clung to you, life embracing the void, but now you walked among the beings of the universe and no one knew you were there.

A shadow.

A blink.

Nothing.

Muscle and tension and tightness under your fingernails. His mouth on your chest, his fingers slipping and creeping down, slipping into slick heat as his tongue brushed across your skin, sharp teeth grazing, threatening to break what he could not. He bit down across the curve of your breast and plunged two fingers into the fire, but soon lost his strength in his jaws, melting into the heavy scent and the sensation around his fingers. Tight, wet, pulsating, constricting all around. He shuddered, pushing in and out just to feel it over and over, the pads of his fingers curving in, deeper, a squelch joining his moan.

His tongue pressed to your nipple, drowning in the sensations.

It must be addictive, because he was not just feeling a body, but all it was connected to, amplifying the undying passion within him, clutching his essence, slicing into his very being and pouring into the cracks, hunger and blood and satiation that seemed unbound and infinite.

Faster and harder, intensifying the pace, not enough, never enough, staring into your eyes with your blood smeared on his lips. Only capable of doing and feeling, for it was so much and he wanted more.

He was the embodiment of endless hunger.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, heavy and weighted and the words collapsing from his mouth like he couldn’t hold them in.

You lifted your hips to follow his hand, deepening the stroke, and he was driven by your response, seizing a fistful of sheets and roughly pushing his fingers into the inescapable heat, pleasure so great it threatened to devour him.

“That is your greatest honor, isn’t it, Jungkook?” you whispered to him, spindly and lithe, as if the words were painted in the sky, hovering in darkness that only those who searched for could see.

He nodded, red lips trembling, accented with a silver ring and the small dot that peeked out from the shadow of his lower lip, quivering in anticipation.

You smiled.

“Then, I love you.”

You saw him smile, your blood clinging to his lips.

You seemed to remember the great gratification that was acting on a whim when you were with him.

You reached up and pushed his hair back, letting it all waterfall through you as you stared at his face, angles and glazed eyes, metal at his brow and lip, no more paleness, your own blood in his vessels washing him with color and life.

His lips opened and he groaned, feeling your muscles ripple and squeeze him, covering his palm with sticky, heady sweetness. Pressing his fingers into you, feeling every throb through his fingertips, heated by the cosmos, and he lifted his hand, fingers drenched in a glossy, sticky shine, and ran his tongue over them, devouring it like it was your blood.

You watched him drinking your taste off his body, your fingers in his hair.

Once again, your form is what he believed in. What he desired, wanted, craved. He was more than human now, but once upon a time he was merely a human and humans sought meaning in the nothingness. It was now clear what meaning he had chosen to follow. Now he believed in nothing, so he gave nothing the meaning he has associated with living.

Love.

With his wet hand, he covered yours, shuddering as he pressed your palm to his cheek.

“You’re… warm…” he gasped out, shivering in the grasp of the abyss.

Your thumb rubbed against his cheekbone, caressing him.

You opened your mouth.

Your tongue slid out, wet and writhing, in between full lips and exposing the endless chasm that was your throat, and Jungkook was the star dragged into that black hole, letting go of your hand and crawling onto the sheets. Large, dark brown eyes glued to your face, clumsy and collapsing, barely out of his pants and throwing his head back as he slid his hard cock down your throat.

He was the undying passion driven by an endless hunger.

You let him hit as deep as he could, the head buried into the depths of your throat, and your tongue encircled him, around his balls and the base, drawing patterns and shapes in swipes of saliva. His knees slid apart, but he locked them, drowning in the sensation and pleasure that was your dancing tongue and your throat wrapped around him, tight and pulsing. The wet walls could close in, then release ever so slightly, hovering to remind him they could close in again, and then they did, over and over, tongue and throat and his face to the ceiling, to the sky, to the void of space and the area you dominated.

His hands seized your head and you pressed your head back into the mattress.

Slow and tight and all over.

He could feel it, but mostly he could feel himself. Satisfaction and hunger. Fullness, then denying himself that fullness. In and out, so wet it was loud, sloppy sucking sounds from his erratic movements, shadows casting over his body as he hunched over, muscles tense and taut and hot breath wafting down, furious pace complimented by your tongue following the line underneath, manipulating the sensations. Pressure and saliva and slickness, keeping his nerves on the brink of breaking, the strain evident in his hips and core, almost too much, almost, gasping, panting, flicking sweat onto the sheets.

His head snapping back, his moan so sudden that it was a crack into the humid silence.

“Oh, fuck!”

He poured down your throat, thick, strong, heady, the taste spreading out of your throat and splashing onto your tongue. You swallowed around him, consuming it, and he whined uncontrollably, hard and tense body twitching from the suffocating sensitivity.

Your wicked wet tongue circled him, toying with his balls.

You felt his desire.

He wanted to taste you like that, with your mouth full of him and his mouth lingering with your blood.

This was eternity, molded by your hands.

You held his head to yours and curled your tongue in the cavity of his mouth, eating up his cries, wrapping your legs around his hips. He reached between you and him, and then he was intertwined in the abyss, into unbearable heat and pressurized slickness, swallowed by sensations, your teeth clutching his tongue, your nails down his back, your hips rocking into his, messy with no real rhythm, but soon it all fell into place, the stars aligning to your grand design.

Your nails crawled up his neck and onto his scalp, cascading pins and needles of pain as he panted against your lips, driving his hips down and gasping as yours smacked into his, repeated collision of wet, hard, tight.

You framed his head with your fingertips.

Jungkook looked down at you, eyes burning bright, carnal, driven to pursue the end to his hunger you did not give. On the edge of infinity, throwing himself over and over and each time you pulled the strings of your puppet, dancing him back to life, the very essence of undying passion drawing pleasure from this cycle.

Jungkook tilted his head, his tongue sliding out.

He exhaled.

Hot and heavy and teeming with life.

You felt it wash over you, his breath powered by your blood.

He grinned, and, like a reflection, you grinned back.

You sunk your nails into his head and he rammed his hips into you, radiating power, heat, and the elegance of uncontrollable thirst, his mouth opening, sharp white teeth and the chasm of darkness within his gurgling throat, trying to make a sound but failing because it was too much, too much, your walls closing in, your thighs squeezing his sides, your mouth opening and your tongue lolling out, seen but untouched, and he whimpered, wanting to come down but your hands refused, pinning him to your grip.

You saw the strain in his neck, his shoulders, his chest, could hear his heart beating for you, from you, with you inside it.

You were the god without a name, so instead Jungkook let out a low-pitched, guttural moan and shot his eyes up to the sky, towards space and formless time waiting to be touched by your fingertips. He burst within you, heat to heat, a messy squelch and jerking bodies, and you consumed it all, his sound, his feel, his physical form succumbing to the highest peak, similar to how he was when your blood touched his lips and poured in.

Burning.

He collapsed into the abyss, and the abyss held him, caressed him, held him up by his strings.

“I am the void,” you whispered to him.

“I am the whim of the void,” he gasped back, and he held onto you, held onto you as long as he could, his meaning of life now the nothingness he loved that refused to cease his endless hunger, but that was all he wanted – to wander, to waste away, to be reborn again, to touch infinity, eternally, because he would never know the end.

Oh, to create, to destroy, those alone meant nothing.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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wheelsup · 4 years ago

Text

a friendly bet

category: fluff/humor, spencer x reader warnings: briefly jealous Spencer word count: 1.34k A/N: this blurb was requested by loml @rigatonireid! the prompts are: "you're absolutely dreadful" + "you're my favorite know-it-all"

Spencer Reid really does know it all. His intelligence might be the most attractive thing about him — tied with his face, his hair, his height, his kind eyes.... Maybe Spencer Reid is just overall attractive and you love everything about him, inside and out.

So yes, you’re completely biased on the topic of your boyfriend, but you are aware not everyone shares this fondness of his brain.

He can’t really help that he corrects people all the time — his impulse just takes the steering wheel and makes his mouth move before he can consider if it’s appropriate to comment. The rest of the team is familiar with the quirk, but even they still take offense from time to time.

And the strangers you meet on cases are even less receptive to it. Local law enforcement tends to think that the FBI only shows up to throw their weight around their city, and Reid’s little know-it-all interjections only increase the tension.

It makes it that much harder to get along with them, which isn’t always something your team can afford when the stakes are high. So, you decided to make him a friendly bet that he couldn’t go one whole day without correcting someone on an instance it wasn’t truly necessary.

“I thought you liked my rambling?” Spencer’s bottom lip curled into a pout that you quickly smoothed away with your thumbs.

“I do! I just… think it might make things easier if you hold back a little. Some of the guys here are getting their feelings hurt.” You laughed and stroked his cheek, coaxing a smile out of him. Your proposition wasn’t a criticism of him. It was of everyone else.

“There’s no way I correct people that much,” Spencer scoffed and rolled his eyes, playfully pushing your face away from him like you were being ridiculous.

“Then take the bet and we’ll find out.”

And sorry to say, there was a way.

Not an hour into the day, the vein on Spencer’s forehead was at danger of bursting through his skin. It only came out when he was angry or deep in focus, and you really couldn’t pick which of the two were causing it now. (It was a bit of both.)

This morning, you were trailing about thirty feet behind everyone when coming into the station and Spencer, being the good boyfriend he is, held the door open for you the extra ten seconds. The receptionist at the front desk subsequently chewed him out about ‘letting all of the cold air come into the office’.

That was Spencer’s first test of the day.

Surely, every person in the world knows that’s not how thermodynamics work. Not even close. And if she didn’t know that, that was definitely cause for concern. So really, this felt like a necessary time for Spencer to speak up. For her sake.

But he saw the way your eyebrow quirked up and he knew it was a challenge. It was too easy of a win for you. So he decided to bite his tongue and apologize for the inconvenience.

His second test rose from an argument between Morgan and Prentiss. The barista Hotch picked up drinks from messed up the team’s order and they discovered they were short one coffee. Both threw empty threats at the other and insisted they needed the drink more, but it had come to a stalemate.

“Emily, I worked late last night.”

“What happened to ladies first?” She slid the cup to herself, and Morgan snatched it right back.

“I’m not seeing any lady here!”

Before Emily tossed her chair at Morgan’s head, Hotch suggested they just flip a coin to make it totally fair.

Spencer’s brain was screaming inside: The odds of a coin toss are actually 51/49! Trials have shown that a coin favors landing on the side that was facing up when it was thrown, so really, whoever picks that side has a better chance!

It isn’t so much a correction as it is a fun fact. A harmless little fun fact, surely people would like to hear it! He should share it, they’ll love it.

But you remembered Spencer telling you about this once before, and your eyes are narrowing on him with a smug expression.

‘Come on. Tell them’ your face seems to say. He knows it’s bait, and he doesn’t bite. Thirty-seven minutes into the day. He can do it.

And to your surprise, he did last. For a while. (A while being an hour and twenty-four minutes.)

After the morning briefing, Spencer saw some young male deputy follow you into the conference room. Where you were working. Alone. Why the hell did he need to speak to you alone?

He’s tall with cover-boy good looks (much like Spencer himself), but the thing that Spencer hated most about him was the way he’d been looking at you all week. It’s a nicer word than Spencer would use — he’d say it was more like staring. Watching. Creeping.

Yeah, that’s the one. He’s a creep and Spencer’s very suspicious of him.

So, he did what anyone would do and hid behind a tall potted plant near the window to peek into the room through the blinds. (It’s very inconspicuous, they should use him to go undercover sometime.)

“Can I help you with something?” You gave a polite, tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, I was just, uh—” he forced a laugh and rubbed his neck in some lame attempt to be charming that made Spencer roll his eyes. “I was wondering if you could fill me in on the investigation.”

He placed a couple of files onto the table next to you and rested a hand on the back of your chair.

You blinked uncomfortably between his sudden proximity and the flirtatious expression adorning his face. “Oh, uh, did you miss the briefing?”

He shook his head no. He was there, he was just making an excuse to come talk to you.

“Could you talk me through it again? I guess I’ve got the memory of a goldfish.” He flashed a smile and leaned his elbow on the table, effectively boxing you in with his whole body.

Before you could tell him to kindly fuck off, you got distracted by the sound of rustling leaves. Then four seconds later, Spencer burst in through the door.

“Actually!” he huffed, a little out of breath, “Goldfish have a long-term memory ranging from three to five months.” Once he catches it, he crosses his arms over his chest and straightens out his spine to make himself bigger. “So you should be able to figure it out on your own. Unless your brain is smaller than a goldfish’s, of course.”

You have to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing at the deputy’s beet-red face. Spencer scrambled to pick up the files and shoved them back into the deputy’s arms as he “gently” ushered him out the door.

“That was cute of you.” You left a soft kiss on that protruding forehead vein that was finally beginning to go away. “You lost, by the way.”

“There’s no way you’re making me do this.” Spencer stood in front of your bathroom mirror with the grimmest expression on his face.

“Sorry, cutie, but you lost,” you teased, preening his hair into place.

A few weeks ago you saw an old picture of Spencer with his hair slicked back, and it’s all you’ve been thinking about ever since. You thought it made him look model-level good and begged him to do it again, but he was of a different opinion. Now, he had no choice in the matter.

“I can’t go to work like this, I’ll look like a joke. There has to be something else!”

“This is the only thing I want.”

He sighed, shoulders sinking as his whole body deflated. “You’re absolutely dreadful.”

You planted a sloppy, exaggerated kiss on his furrowed brows and continued combing the gel into his hair. “And you are my favorite know-it-all.”

visual aid (tumblr wouldn't let me insert it ugh)

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid insert #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds self insert #mgg #criminal minds #my fic #pinned

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draco-spencers-paramour · 3 years ago

Text

There’s no me without you (3)

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

summary: Draco asks Y/N on her first ‘date’ and they attend a party.

warnings: Angst (if ya squint), fluff

Next Chapter

It was official, you and Draco were friends. After the whole conundrum with Cedric, you’d spent last few weeks avoiding both him and Pansy at all costs spending most of your time meeting Draco in the library or at lunch. Small talk and touches was your go to play for the couple act. It helped - a lot.

No other slytherins would say anything unkind to you like they normally would even if Draco wasn’t by your side. However the golden trio and many people from other houses had a hard time understanding how someone as sweet as you could even bare to look at him let alone be his ‘girlfriend’. You had gotten grief from a few of your gryffindor friends.

Sitting in charms class Seamus shook his head at you “Blimey Y/N you were the nice Slytherin. How could you sink that low as to fancy Malfoy?” it made you cringe cause you knew deep down he was right but this whole thing was necessary it was less grief than usual

Today, Draco had slipped a note in your bag in Herbology for you to find after, which you did. Come to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday? - DM. Sometimes you let yourself believe it was real. How dumb of me, you thought yourself as it had been merely a month and 20 days exactly since you and Draco started this whole thing.

Little to your knowledge he was doing the exact same thing, the daydreaming and sometimes forgetting it was fake. He even began to notice things about you. The way in which your face softened into a sweet pout when in the presence of any mythical creature, especially Buckbeak. He had zero clue as to why you thought the vile thing was cute.

Draco had also picked up on the way in which you threw your hand up enthusiastically when you knew the answer to something. Not only that, he found that you loved croissants, gothic novels and the colour green, much to his delight. He knew you hated it when he’d insult the golden trio so he had been trying to repress his urges of antagonising them. So far, so good.

One thing about Draco was that, he hated getting familiar and close to people. You knew this because each time you touched or got that bit closer he’d pull away for a little bit before coming back slowly. They all left him eventually. Maybe some not in the literal sense but people stopped caring or taking notice. His mum, dad, relatives, a few friends, teachers. Yes, he had Zabini and Nott but they were only friends based on being slytherin, pure bloods and rich.

There was no deep and meaningful connections he had ever made with anyone. But with you, it was so different. Unlike any friendship Draco had ever experienced. You were attentive and cared for his opinions, you laughed and genuinely. He wanted to really know you as a person and that was beginning to happen. He began to care for you in the same light that you did for him. So he asked you on a mock date and slipped you the note.

Taking your pen out of your bag you leaned the small scrap of paper on the stone wall after class and wrote on the back in response to his question ‘Yes :) - Y/N’ It was becoming harder and harder to ignore the fuzzy feeling you got when Draco looked at you, spoke to you or even entered a room. You refused to accept the creeping chance that you may have a mini-teeny-tiny-spec of a crush on Draco. Impossible you told yourself.

You spotted the blonde and his friends, instantly when entering the hall at dinner time. You wandered over and he looked at you expectantly as you sat down “Hello Y/N”. You could tell that he was just itching for you to answer his question about going to Hogsmeade. You decided not to give him the satisfaction and tease him a little. “Hey” you said before you simply began eating your dinner not paying any mind to his soul-searing gaze. Draco eventually admitted defeat, she must’ve not seen the note he thought to himself.

In the meantime, your head thought why doesn’t he just ask me out here and now, everyone already thinks i’m his girlfriend. As he sipped his pumpkin juice idly you slipped the note into his robe pocket. ‘I’m going to see Luna.’ you announced quietly. Draco gave a nod still looking at his plate, almost sulking. So, you did the unexpected to alter his sad state. You leaned over and placed a lingering kiss on his cheek. His cheeks burned red, trying his hardest to repress his grin.

You sauntered away from the table, Draco’s glacial eyes stalking your figure all the way to the ravenclaws. “Luna!” you called to her over the noise of chattering students. Her wavy locks whipped behind her as she tried to find your voice. She met your face with a warm smile and waved you over to the seat next to her.

You placed yourself by her and gave her a hug “Okay so you know i don’t like to pry but...You and Draco? Like since when?!” you’d never seen her this giddy. Was she the only person happy for you? The problem was that you so wanted to tell her the truth, but you and Draco made an absolute promise that no one not even your families, if they even heard about it, would find out that your relationship was pretend.

“Honestly...he’s not that bad at all. We bonded over getting cheated on I guess- romantic I know. But we just started talking and then the next thing I knew, I had feelings for him.” You surprised yourself at how that really was a little pathetic but also true too.

Besides, the feelings bit of course. Sure Draco made you feel things but you certainly didn’t have feelings for him. To be honest, you realised that you and Draco could have made a better story about your relationship than the one you had been telling people. It seemed faker than it really was but you tried not to let it bother you.

Luna placed her hand atop of yours “I think it’s nice. If you’re happy I support you. Plus, Draco invited me to tonight’s party so I have no issue with him.” you were so glad to hear that Draco had directly spoken your best friend, it showed his commitment and dedication to the whole act and the notion about being nicer to others.

“A party? I actually didn’t know there was a slytherin party tonight.” You said non-chalant. Luna shrugged “Draco said you and him were going and wanted me to come along. I hope that’s okay!” you put your arm around her shoulder and grinned “Of course I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Across the room Draco became too frustrated to sit and stare you down so he got up from the slytherin table and wandered out the hall “Why didn’t I just ask her in person. Hey Y/N wanna go on a date it’s good for practice? Grow up Draco.” he spoke to himself as he ran a hand through his hair.

He leaned back against a pillar mentally beating himself up, putting his hands in his pockets. He felt a small bit of crumpled up paper in there and took it out. Unraveling the paper Draco saw his question about the date before flipping it over and reading “Yes :) - Y/N” in your beautiful cursive writing. He smiled uncontrollably before composing himself and approaching the courtyard to sit on a bench it’s just a stupid date. You’re just using her to keep Pansy away. he kept telling himself as he walked towards the stone seat. Courtyard was pretty much empty and peaceful, like most lunchtimes.

Draco got out the book he saw you reading in the library yesterday titled Wuthering Heights and rented another copy from Madam Pince and found that although it was muggle, the book was very enjoyable considering you’d recommended it to him. 20 minutes past after getting lost in the tragic love story of Heathcliff and Kathy, hewas disrupted hearing faint laughter that was getting nearer to the courtyard.

His face hardened due to being disturbed from his reading, trying to work out where the sound was at root. His sour expression faltered when he saw it was you laughing. Your head thrown back smile etched on your face as you walked with Luna and Blaise had joined you.

Draco gave in to the fact that you were attractive. He always knew you were but found it weird how there was a time where you and him absolutely despised each other. No matter how close you were getting to each other he desperately wanted to stop getting attached to you. He needed to keep that distance.

When your eyes met, your laughter quietened and you muttered something to Luna and Blaise before they both nodded and took off in the opposite direction. You strode towards Draco marking your spot directly in front of him. He set the book behind him on the stone bench, almost out of your sight “I saw your response to my note.” he muttered very matter-of-factly.

You reached for his hand but he moved it purposefully. You cleared your throat awkwardly feeling uncomfortable at his cold demeanour “Oh. Yeah, it sounds fun. Also I didn’t know there was a party tonight until Luna mentioned it at lunch.”

Draco picked at a hangnail on his finger averting your gaze. “Sorry, forgot to tell you. Meet me at 9 at the stairwell.” you sighed “Okay?” Out of the corner of your eye behind Draco you saw the copy of Wuthering Heights, it really did make you gush that he was taking interest in your interests. However, the way the was acting towards you in this very moment was so confusing. He was fine a few days ago - what changed? You got up off the bench “Meet you then.”

Getting ready for the party that night you had mixed feelings. Was Draco going to act like this all day? He had literally flipped a switch. You tired not to think about it but it was no use. Turning to your mirror you brushed down your dress. Luna waited by the door as you adjusted your look in the mirror “Okay I’m ready” you muttered in a sigh heading out of your dorm with her to go and meet Draco.

He stood at the bottom of the steps looking devastatingly handsome, as per usual. Classic black suit and not a hair out of place “Hey.” he greeted you both lightly whilst looking you up and down. You offered him your best smile and linked his hand walking towards the party.

It was the usual scene of drunk 7th years, green dim lights and the first ever party you and Draco were attending together. Coming into the party you didn’t receive as many stares as you thought you would which was a bonus. Draco’s hand moved to the small of your back taking you and a following Luna, over to his mates who sat around a low table in various different seats.

What you didn’t expect was Luna, heading straight towards the spot next to Blaise and immediately struck up conversation. It warmed you to see them getting along and gave you a sneaking suspicion that they could like each other. And then your excitement was cut short due to Pansy, clearing her throat. “Let’s play some games.” she smiled wickedly

“Nott, pass me the bottle?” she pointed towards the empty firewhiskey. He rubbed the back of his neck and sipped his firewhiskey “Uhmm- sure.” Pansy circled the rim of the bottle with her finger giggling lightly to herself “This is a little game called spin the bottle. I assume everyone knows how to play. If not, the bottle is spun in the middle of the table and chooses two people. The people chosen have to kiss. Hope that’s simple enough for you Y/N.” Blaise glanced towards Luna who was already blushing.

Draco scoffed taking your hand and standing up “She’s not an idiot Parkinson. Besides we’re not playing these childish games.” Parkinson sighed dramatically “I guess Draco and Y/‘s relationship is too vulnerable for some harmless fun.” you narrowed your eyes at her, removing your hand from Draco’s and sitting back in your chair “You know what? Let’s play. I’ve done it before. No big deal.” he sat back down with you a cautious look on his face.

Up first was Theodore and Luna. Blaise didn’t seem to care hence what you had all said about it being harmless fun. On the contrary, you felt yourself tense up each time the bottle would land near Draco and you could see the disappointment in Pansy’s eyes when the bottle didn’t land on him for her go. When it finally did land on him the bottle was to be spun again by Blaise.

Watching the fast rotations, each spin made you feel motion sick. Why did you feel so uneasy about Draco kissing another girl? It was just a stupid game. The bottle began to slow down and you closed your eyes bracing yourself knowing it would land on Pansy. Hearing wolf whistles around you, you opened your eyes and looked at the glass bottle.

Unbelievably it had landed......on you. The feeling of relief and reality had mixed within you. This would be your first kiss with him. The look of horror when you glanced over to Pansy gave you more of a confidence boost. Flicking back to draco, he wore a smirk on his face making you reciprocate slightly. “Come here darling.” darling..that was new. He beckoned you over and you moved up along the sofa you were sharing.

Draco pulled you onto his lap, his hands finding your waist. You looked at him softly and he nodded reassuringly with the same gentle eyes. Snaking your arms around his neck, you placed your lips on his. You could swear that everyone else in the room had disappeared in the moment.

His lips were the softest thing you’d ever felt. Moving in sync, Draco bit and sucked lightly on your bottom lip. He was more than enjoying this and so were you. His hands gripped your waist tighter as he deepened the kiss making you reciprocate. God he was such a good fucking kisser. Bless blaise for spinning that bottle you noted as Draco continued his sweet exploration of your lips. His cologne and fresh mint mixed with firewhiskey taste of his mouth overtook your senses. The boy was intoxicating.

Breaking apart he had the remnants your lipstick smeared of his face with a proud look gracing him. You sat wide eyed and speechless and what had just occurred. You sat back in your seat and everyone in the circle have a round of applause, besides pansy of course who had got up and flounced off.

and that was the beginning of the end. Looking at one another now, it was like some kind of tectonic shift, a force you were aware of before your lips touched. The air had changed, now completely electric as only one conclusion could be drawn as you held eye contact.

You had feelings for Draco Malfoy and you were completely fucked.

cute is all i have to say. Not the best of my writing but...cute nevertheless 💌🍯

Taglist: @raven-reyes-wife @mvdbldd @dracoslittlesunflower @sly-d @wanniiieeee @sycathorn-slush @im-constantly-fangirling @theoriginalsuicidalprincess @persephonestoad @illy1011 @marajade888 @mwest17 @simpforpansy

#draco fanfiction #draco fluff #draco imagine #draco angst #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #draco smut #draco malfoy smut #draco x y/n #draco series #draco x reader #draco

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honey-dewey · 3 years ago

Text

Between Old Friends and New Lovers

Pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey/GN! Vampire Reader

Word Count: 3,000

Warnings: blood, biting, mind control, but it’s all very minor.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

A/N: This is my first time making a header of sorts for my fics! I quite liked how this one turned out.

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.

The manor was always cold. Not that you minded much, but sometimes the ever-present chill in the air drove away your guests. Again, you didn’t mind all too much. Guests were never your forte. But he, well. He was always different.

“Your Grace?” Your lady in waiting, Camille, came into your study, bowing her head down. “You have a visitor.”

“Is it his visiting day already?” You asked, checking your date book.

Camille nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. It is.”

You smiled, putting down your pen and moving from out behind your desk. “Thank you kindly Camille. Send him to the sitting room and inform him I shall be down momentarily.”

Camille left, and you hummed to yourself, straightening out your papers and setting your pen back down next to its respective inkwell. As you worked, you reminisced on the day you had met your favorite human being.

Two years prior

You sighed, listening to the rain slam against the windows as you worked on a few neglected pieces of paperwork. It was mostly finances, but it all had to be done, and so you were doing it. Tonight was supposed to be horribly rainy, with scattered thunderstorms and no sign of stopping until the sun rose. You didn’t mind. It made hunting harder, but you didn’t need to hunt for a while.

A sharp bolt of lightning lit up your study, and you finally shut your accounting book, deciding your work could wait until after the storm passed. You stood, pushing your chair back in. Office work was annoying at best. You’d much rather see people in person, share a cup of tea, and continue to build your reputation as the mysterious gothic Duke/Duchess who lived almost entirely alone. But paperwork, it seemed, was easier to send, and it meant most people could avoid your often intimidating presence.

“Camille!” You called through the manor, shutting and locking the study. “Camille?” Usually your lady in waiting was somewhere nearby, working on her own work within earshot. But now, you had to tune your hearing up past what was normal to hear Camille’s pattering heartbeat and nervous breaths. Why was Camille nervous? She’d been serving the manor for three years, she’d stopped being nervous in the old building last year.

“Camille!” You shouted, moving towards the sitting room she was inhabiting, worried for her safety. She should’ve alerted you immediately to a guest, and you were starting to grow concerned. Her heart rate spiked, only for a moment, and you heard her rushing footsteps coming towards you.

“Yes, Your Grace?” Camille asked, rounding the corner and looking up at you through her eyelashes. “You called?”

You nodded, dialing back your hearing so Camille’s close voice didn’t overwhelm you. “Have we got a visitor?”

Camille bowed her head, nodding slightly. “I was just setting him up in the sitting room,” she said quickly. “I was about to come get you as soon as he was settled.”

Smiling at the reassurance, you began to walk to the sitting room, where Camille had just come from. “Walk with me,” you said, and Camille hurried after you. “Is the man lost?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Camille said, walking a pace behind you. “He said his car broke down and he saw the manor. He asked for shelter from the storm.”

“How is he?” You asked, already envisioning the man settled in your sitting room. “Healthy?”

Camille nodded, her face going pale. “Yes, Your Grace,” she responded. “He’s young and seemingly in good health.”

The sitting room doors came into sight, and you smiled, turning to Camille. “How do I look?”

“Perfect,” Camille responded, glancing at the ornate silver-backed mirror in the hall. Only she showed up, standing beside the silhouette of your clothes. You straightened your collar, running your fingers over the two neat lines of shining buttons before adjusting your gloves and pushing the sitting room door open.

Immediately, you noticed the smell. Deep and foreign, you had to dial your senses back further than you normally would to stand it. Leather and cologne and a deep internal lust mixed with the smell of the city. He was from New York City, you could practically taste it on him. He looked odd, but no odder than you, decked in all black and leather, every bit of metal on him glimmering in the low lamplight as he moved. You took a breath, but no silver. You were safe.

Looking the man up and down, you tried to silently determine whether he was one of you. You knew that the younger generation preferred to stay in cities, and called themselves goth in order to maintain the aesthetic. But despite his unique, timeless features, the man smelled organic and human, and you could hear his heart beating, a steady constant in the back of your hearing.

Your guest stood, and you smiled politely. “Welcome,” you said sweetly, clasping your hands in front of you. “I apologize for not welcoming you to the manor myself.”

The man smirked, looking you up and down. “No problem,” he said smoothly. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.” You sat in a chair in front of the fireplace, crossing your legs and gesturing for your guest to sit beside you. “Family estate. Would you like a fire?” You noticed the man was wet, and you assumed he’d been caught in the storm.

“I wouldn’t mind one,” the man agreed, and you gestured Camille over.

“Camille, would you mind starting a fire?” You asked. “And when you’re done, I would love some tea.”

Camille nodded, exiting the room and leaving you alone with your guest.

“May I have your name?” You asked politely, turning your full attention to the man.

He nodded. “You can call me Dio.”

“Dio.” The name turned over like a fine wine on your tongue. “A bit of a presumptuous nickname, don’t you think?”

Dio raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said slowly, in a tone that told you he knew exactly what you meant.

You stood, moving to stand in front of the fireplace. “I mean, calling yourself a god. Albeit in a different language, but still. Even I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Even you?” Dio questioned, leaning back in his chair. “Explain.”

“Well.” You gestured around at the ornate sitting room, at the dark embroidered seat cushions and the deep wooden surfaces surrounding you. “It does seem rather on brand for someone of my status, does it not?”

Dio’s smirk returned. “Of course,” he said, digging through his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “Instead you call yourself Duke/Duchess.”

“It would be improper of me to not,” you pointed out. “It is, in fact, my title. You, however, have no title, Shane Morrissey.”

Dio’s face went pale and the cigarette dropped from between his fingers, hitting the carpet below his feet with almost no noise. “How-“

At that moment, Camille pushed the door open, rolling in a cart with firewood and a tea tray. While she busied herself with the fire, you sat back down, taking Dio’s cigarette from the floor, lighting it on Camille’s match and handing it back to the stunned man. “I usually don’t allow guests to smoke,” you said casually. “But I suppose I can make an exception. Just this once.” You pushed an ashtray across the table, smiling. “You were saying?”

Dio blinked, wide eyed. “How do you know-“

“Your name?” You finished for him, accepting an empty teacup from Camille and nodding to her when she set the tray on the table and left once more. “I could see your identification card in your pocket when you reached for your cigarettes. But if you would prefer to be referred to as Dio, I will do so.”

Dio seemingly relaxed. But he was still on edge as you poured yourself some tea.

“It’s a lovely black currant tea, if you’re interested,” you said, not even looking up as you poured the thick black tea into your cup. “I see Camille brought two cups.” As you spoke, you took the cream jug and poured a splash into your tea, setting the jug aside from the rest of the set. “I promise it isn’t poison,” you added sweetly, taking a sip of your tea.

Despite your humorous remark, Dio still seemed cautious, waiting until you had taken a sip to pour himself a cup of tea. He didn’t add sugar, simply sat back and cradled the cup in his hands. You wondered if he was still cold. But the fire was going and you could feel it warming your skin, even if the feeling of warm and cold were long since lost to you.

“So, Dio,” you said, watching Dio take a sip of his tea. “You live in the city, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Dio’s voice was guarded, hesitant. He was scared of you.

You hummed, nodding to yourself. “I haven’t seen the city,” you admitted. “Do you enjoy it?”

Dio shrugged. “It’s alright.”

You sighed. “Dio,” you said firmly, forcing his attention to snap to you. “Do I scare you?”

“What?” Dio asked, surprised. “I mean.” His eyes went glassy as you waved your hand, forcing him to tell the truth. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Dio’s hand shook, spilling tea over his skin. “I-“ he faltered, blinking a few times, face pulling tight. “I don’t know.”

You waved your hand again, releasing Dio from your hold. “Maybe I should explain,” you said, standing and setting your cup down. “I am (F/N) (L/N), sole heir to my name and the last remaining Duke/Duchess of this land. I have held my title and estate for over twelve decades, and I am a vampire.”

Dio was silent, so silent you had to wonder if you had broken him. But eventually, he nodded slowly, setting his cup down. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay.”

“You’re not dreaming,” you added helpfully. “Nor is this a hallucination caused by the tea.”

“Yeah,” Dio agreed quietly. “What about Camille, is she?”

“Oh of course not!” You said, sitting back beside Dio and picking up your cup again. “No, we don’t keep preternatural staff anymore. Her family has been in service to my family since long before I was born, and she seemed happy enough to have the job once I reached out. I do pay quite well.”

“Anymore?” Dio wondered out loud. “Tell me more about vampires. I want to know.” He leaned forward in his seat, and you grinned. It was rare you revealed yourself to a guest and were met with anything less than terror. But Dio seemed downright enthused. So you poured yourself a new cup of tea, adding a generous amount of cream this time, letting Dio see that it was not cream, but blood.

“Well. Where to start?” You mused. “I come from a long line of vampires, one of the longest in fact. My family, my bloodline if you will, was once well respected, but during the witch hunts, most of my kind died out. My mother survived and lived in this manor, alone, for centuries until she found me. I was lost, a wandering child, and she took me in and cared for me, turning me when the time was right.”

“So where is she?”

“Long dead,” you said, peeling your gloves off and setting them aside. “I’ve been the master of this estate for, oh, I guess it must be almost ninety years now. Yes, I inherited it during the depression.”

Dio nodded, his cigarette long since forgotten in the ashtray. “So, how do you survive? How much blood do you need? Are you like Dracula? Do you have any powers? What-“

“Dio!” You cut him off with a raised hand and a chuckle. “I cannot possibly answer your every burning question right now.” You stood, looking out over the storm, which was fading. “Here. Let us make a deal. I will send you home safely, with no complications, and in turn, I will entertain you once a month, on the first Saturday, and I will answer one question. Only one, until you are satisfied.”

Dio nodded, glancing out the window. “How do I know you aren’t just messing with me about the vampire thing?” He asked softly.

You smiled. “Come with me.”

He followed you out into the hall, where you guided him to the mirror just outside the sitting room. “Look,” you said, gesturing to the mirror. “It’s an old heirloom. Silver-backed, so I don’t appear in its surface.”

Dio gently reached out, touching the mirror with feather-light fingers. “You’re not,” he breathed. “It’s real.”

“It is,” you agreed. “Now, get going Dio. I’ll see you in one month. Don’t be late.”

Two years later

You opened the sitting room doors, seeing Shane sitting in his usual spot, right by the fireplace. He was already cradling his teacup, your cup sitting on the table, perfectly set up to your liking.

“Shane!” You said happily, and Shane stood, allowing you to hug him tightly. “You’re on time.”

“When am I not?” Shane asked, pulling away and sitting back down. “Shall we?”

You laughed. “We shall.”

Your cup was full to the brim of blood, no tea this time. It was a feeding day, and as much as you hated it, Shane promised he didn’t mind.

“Actually,” you decided, setting your cup down without taking a sip. “Perhaps we should do this a different way.”

“What do you mean?” Shane asked, worried. “Did I make it wrong? Camille brought me the teapot. She said it was your favorite.”

You shook your head. “No Shane,” you said. “You’re perfectly good. In fact.” You stood, offering him your hand. “You’re more than good.”

Standing, Shane let you lead him to the window, looking out over your night-darkened estate. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want some stranger’s blood,” You purred softly, pushing Shane’s shirt collar down. “I want you, Shane. I want to taste you on my tongue, to have your life filling my belly and making me warm.”

Shane gulped, his skin heating. “Really?”

“Would I lie?” You asked, almost pouting. “My love, I would never. Say the words, and I will make you feel amazing.”

Nodding, Shane put a hand to the window to brace himself. “I give you permission,” he said, voice wavering. “You may feed from me.”

You smiled, putting your mouth to his neck and kissing, trailing to the perfect spot. He shivered, moaning softly when you nipped at the tender flesh of his neck. Curving your lips up at the shameless sounds you were eliciting from Shane, you finally found the sweet spot and dug your fangs in.

If you thought Shane was vocal when you were just teasing, you were in for a surprise. As you lapped at the blood pooling on Shane’s skin, he writhed under you, moaning and breathlessly whining your name, both hands pressed fully to the window to keep stable. You licked a warm stripe up the curve of Shane’s neck, chuckling as he breathed heavily. “Do you like that, my love?”

“Yes,” Shane gasped out. “Yes, I do, Your Grace.”

You hummed, running a finger through the smeared blood and turning Shane around so he could see you suck his blood off your finger. “You taste exquisite,” you moaned around your finger. “So perfect.” You moved in again, licking up the last of the blood.

Shane breathed loud against you, his breath disturbing your hair as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “More,” he begged as you pulled away. “Please.”

“No more my love,” you said, wiping your mouth on a nearby towel. “I will not push you, especially on your first feeding.” You gently pressed the towel to Shane’s skin, occasionally pulling it away and checking on the wounds. Two perfect little puncture holes, still seeping the tiniest bit, marred Shane’s smooth skin. “I’ll call Camilla, have her clean you up properly.”

While you two waited for Camilla, you lay beside the fireplace, Shane laying in your lap as you held a book, reading aloud to him and stroking gently through his hair.

“I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck, she actually licked her lips like an animal.” You smiled, flicking the page and watching Shane’s eyes slide closed. “Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed about to fasten on my throat,” you read softly, urging Shane to sleep, to rest as you read.

Camille came in, carrying a tray of healing supplies. You gestured for her to leave them on the table, and she did, smiling at the sight of Shane in your lap before she ducked out of the room.

“My love?” You asked, laying the book down and grabbing the bandages. “My love, may I see your neck?”

Shane reflexively turned, showing you the side of his neck you’d fed from. You carefully dressed the wound, humming to yourself as you did so.

“I never got a question today,” Shane murmured, startling you.

“Oh.” You set down the roll of bandages, carding through Shane’s hair again. “What do you wish to ask today?”

Shane leaned into your hands, grinning slightly. “Can I be your boyfriend?” He asked softly. “In a strictly non-vampire way.”

You smiled, nodding. “Of course, my love,” you answered. “Of course.”

As Shane’s eyes fluttered shut once more, you picked up the book, determined to finish at least this chapter. With Shane in your embrace and the warmth of the fire surrounding you, you continued to read your newly christened boyfriend to sleep. “I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited—waited with a beating heart.”

#NYPD Blue #shane 'dio' morrissey #dio morrissey #dio morrissey x reader #dio morrissey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing #writer wednesday

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shattersstar · 4 years ago

Text

bluebelle

and if the devil was to ever see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent (part one)

pairing: alucard x reader

excerpt: it seemed as if each corner of the castle held something of you; a bouquet of flowers you had picked for one of the halls in the east wing, a book you half read discarded in a barely used study, the faint flour fingerprints on the railing from when you made banana bread and had gotten so excited it turned out well you dragged Adrian into the kitchen despite the mess on your hands. The brush of your lips even lingered on his skin, the softness revered and remembered. It was warming to find all the parts of you in the tomb that had become his home yet again. (title comes from bluebelle by frank carter and the rattle snakes)

warnings: alucard being loved and appreciated, fluff, minimal angst

a/n: well I couldn’t work on requests till i got this out of my system. kinda stressed abt posting for castlevania bc i dont think? ive talked about it on here before? buuut i can’t stop thinking abt alucard after rewatching season two so here we are. anyways feedback is appreciated.

—

You weren’t by his side in the morning, the sun slotting from the vaulted windows cascaded a stream of warmth that didn’t touch your skin. He startled, fingers curling into the cool sheets. You’d been gone for a while and he hadn’t heard you leave, he—

Adrian had slept. Through the night.

That thought was almost as jarring as your lack of presence. He let his palms dig into his eyes, sliding out from under the covers and dressing quickly. His steps were always light, even against the old floors of the castle. You once mentioned you didn’t think he walked around the castle, merely hovered when you first moved in. Mostly because it was easy to find you, your step not nearly as cautious as his, your scent always lingering through the air, like a trail of crumbs.

Although now, it had become harder to find you because of it, it seemed as if each corner of the castle held something of you; a bouquet of flowers you had picked for one of the halls in the east wing, a book you half read discarded in a barely used study, the faint flour fingerprints on the railing from when you made banana bread and had gotten so excited it turned out well you dragged Adrian into the kitchen despite the mess on your hands.

The brush of your lips even lingered on his skin, the softness revered and remembered. It was warming to find all the parts of you in the tomb that had become his home yet again–but still, it made finding you down a bit more difficult.

He’d begun to rely on sound more, listening from the dragging of ladders around one of the many libraries, the boiling of the kettle or even your voice muttering nonsense to yourself. Sometimes singing, but once you realized he could hear it at great distances, your face burned hot and you only hummed absentmindedly these days.

Your love also reached great distances, bounding higher then the gothic walls you two dwelled in, tendrils of your affection brushing over him like calming waves, as if you somehow purposely emitted your feelings. A secret empath perhaps, humming with love and nudging at his scarred chest until he let you in.

He knew all of that was facetious, nearly musings to keep his thoughts on you as he made his way calmly through the labyrinth castle. You had called it that, still getting lost in it to this day and shouting for him when you’d get frustrated enough. You’d pout when Adrian would casually walk over to where you found yourself, nonchalant and even a little amused. Though, the spike in adrenaline that flowed through his system each time that happened contradicted his calm demeanour each time he approached. He always moved in a flurry, zigzagging and hunting through the daunting walls till he could locate you. He didn’t want you to worry, to see his first thoughts went to danger, he knew you wouldn’t be happy with that. He knew you’d stop calling for him if it meant his fear would take over, that you’d likely stay lost for a lot longer all for him.

It was a dangerous thing, the way you loved him.

He sometimes wished you had been together before his mother died, so that his love wasn’t weaponized against him. There was always going to be a fear attached to his love, everyone waiting for the day he’d break like his father, that his love for you would drive him mad and the cycle of destruction would repeat. It was destined to happen in so many minds, cycles were tricky like that, promoted to be broken, but never as easily as suggested.

That was until you made it easy. You pulled him to your chest and toyed with his hair, skin drying from the bath and voice speaking all the truths he needed to hear into existence. It seemed as if the path he was supposedly destined to be on crumbled before him. He didn’t actively choose to be different, be good, be better, there simply was never the option to be bad once he realized he loved you.

Even now, unable to find you, fear trickling into his stilled heart, there was no anger bruising his soul. The thought of losing you hurt, more than any adjective could place, but it’s a wallowing kind of hurt, the cold grief stricken kind that doesn’t ignite hellfire, but tears. Adrian hadn’t even realized his eyes were brimming with them until your voice carried, a small shout followed by a laugh. His head all, but snapped up, focusing on it and soon he was in the doorway, a sense of calm replacing the creeping anxiety as he found you atop a desk, trying to place a box onto one of the many shelves in this study. The study you had claimed as your own, in love with the large circular window that overlooked the forest instead of the crumbling estate. You didn’t fear the Belmont’s as many had, but rather didn’t find the appeal in staring at a pile of wreckage.

A huff of amusement echoed in the back of his throat when you’d said that casually over dinner, coming to regret the statement when it was passed onto Trevor the next time he visited. Amusement almost laced his mind now as he watched you for a moment, you shoved the box a few times, its contents rattling as you were just a bit too short to rest it securely. He contemplated offering his help, but sure calling attention to himself would startle you, the box likely to fall.

Instead he moved swiftly, behind you in a half a breath and reaching over your shoulders to push the box the rest of the way. You still startled, jumping with a small gasp, your arms dropping back down. You both stood there for a moment, your back rising and falling against his lean chest, his arm slipped to his side, fingers brushing yours as he did. You glanced over your shoulder at him as he climbed down from atop the desks surface. You smiled as he extended a hand to help you, palm face up. He guided you to step onto the chair before settling on the floor, fingers shifting to interlace with his as you pulled him close, chests bumping. “Good morning beloved.” You hummed.

“I believe it’s past noon.” He commented, earning an eye roll.

“Well then good afternoon.”

“No beloved?”

“You’re being quite the tease for someone who’s slept in—leaving me to my own devices this morning.”

“I can see that didn’t go too well.”

You feigned offence, both hands now in Adrian’s as you stepped back, a mix of a gasp and scoff falling from your lips.

“Someone’s in a mood.” He contemplated the statement, drawing you back in with a light pull in his direction. It used to be alarming how easy it was to get you close, how you didn’t shy away, how you were ready to feel him as long as he’d let you. Your chests bumped again, your hands sliding up his arms and around his neck. “And don’t say its because you woke up alone.”

“Hm.”

“Ah, I know you too well. That means you owe me a kiss.”

“It does?”

“Of course, my intelligence deserves a reward, no?” A grin flickered over his face, fangs flashing as he let his slender arms wrap around your frame, one hand resting between your shoulders blades—urging you even closer, your head tilted and lips meeting his slowly.

“Everything you do deserves a kiss.” He sighed, breath fanning over your face.

“Maybe I’ll hold you to that.”

“I don’t object.”

“Good.” You kissed him again, this time a little harder, a bit more than a greeting. Your fingers curled minimally in his hair, tongue swiping against his bottom lip, a silent ask of permission. He granted it with ease, tasting the berries on your tongue and inhaling the warmth of cinnamon radiating from you. Maybe you had been baking again, he wondered momentarily, lips still moving against yours. You pulled away first, chest rising and falling visibly as you let another smile warm over your features. He was almost a little dazed looking at you, barely noting the strands of hair that fell over his face, your fingers quick to tuck them back behind his ear. “Your hairs messy.” You commented, holding his face in your hands as you leaned back, taking him in. Your smile shifted into something curious, brows pulled inward as your gaze flickered across his face. You studied him, the gears in your brain churning out questions you already had the answer too. “Did you think I’d gone? When you woke up?”

You did know him, far too well.

“For a moment, yes.” He had learned it was better not to lie to you, to hide things at times, yes, but to outright lie left a bitter taste in his mouth (and you’d always figure it out anyways).

“Well I’m sorry for worrying you my love, if I had left the grounds I would’ve written a note, or woken you up even, but I didn’t think about doing that if I wasn’t far.” You explained, eyes full of sincerity. It was so human, something he mimicked, but never obtained in the same way you did.

He nodded at your words, forehead resting on yours.

“But is that not it?”

“What?” He recoiled slightly, unable to hide the surprise that found its way onto his face.

You did know him far too well that this had to be magic, you had to have read his mind and understood something deeper. He still found himself alarmed at this moment, your ability to read him surpassed even that of his mother.

“There’s something else isn’t there? You’re upset about something else.”

“I’m not upset—“

“Adrian,” You warned, his mouth snapped shut, “Please don’t lie to me.” He relented, his shoulders tight with defence dropped as your thumb brushed over the porcelain of his cheek. “But we can talk about this later. Okay?” You knew when to push and when to pull and when to give in to him just as he needed. You smiled up at him, nose nudging his affectionately. Love dripped through your words and danced in the corners of your eyes

Yes, later is fine. Right now he needed to be held.

You let your fingers slip into his hair, toying with it, nails kindly swirling against his skull. You were good at soothing him, words, actions, everything. It all calmed the choppy waters that stirred beneath his rib cage and he melted into you. Adrian let his eyes fall closed as you pulled him into a hug, one hand still tangled in his hair while the other wrapped as best it could almost the expanse of his shoulders. He let his arms hang limp, nose pressing into the side of your neck as he breathed you in. Taking in your scent, not where it hung in the stale castle air, how it lingered on door knobs to forgotten rooms you likely tried to open or dwelled on the various pots and pans.

He took you in from the source, your perfume and rainwater from the previous night washed over his senses, along with that still confusing note of cinnamon. Maybe he’d bring it up later, but for now he wanted to love in the safety of your arms.

#i just wanna hold this half vampire for..hours #alucard x reader #alucard imagine #adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes imagine #castlevania x reader #castlevania imagine #castlevania #writing

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spencers-dria · 4 years ago

Note

Congratulations on almost 150 love! So I just recently watched Suburban Gothic and I fell in love. So I was linking maybe you do a Raymond X Reader? Raymond and reader get a case but Raymond doesn’t know Reader is pregnant ((they are married for about 2-3 years)). Raymond is confused as to way every ghost he encounters is over protecting his wife the reader, becuase I like to believe spirits can sense things like souls of babies and such. So when the evil spirit goes to harm Reader the spirits block and protect her. After they finish she finally admits she’s 1-2 months pregnant and wanted to surprise him. The baby will be born on Halloween and gets Raymond’s abilities. Maybe Reader and Raymond also get a black cat? If not Halloween then I was thinking maybe reader gives birth on Friday the 13th under a blue moon in October? Just a thought!

Little Pumpkin

🎉150 Follower Celebration Day 5!

Raymond x fem reader

Pure Freaking FLUFF

Warnings: mentions of spirits/hauntings, pregnancy and birth related topics

A/N: due to the timeline covered in the request I couldn’t fit it all in but would be willing to consider covering the rest in a part two if you’re interested and enjoy this one. I hope this is what you were looking for and that you enjoy it!

—————————————————————————

The first time it happened, Raymond thought nothing of it. It was a normal house call, and the family had been haunted for months. The house had a chill, but this was expected in February weather. Y/N had descended into the basement first, per their usual routine with Raymond following cautiously behind, peeking over her shoulder in a child-like fashion. That’s when it started. Lights flickered, their candles blew out by a mysterious draft, and just spooky business in general. They knew immediately there were dark spirits residing there. A dark tendrils of smoke emerged on the steps, creeping their way towards Y/N and wrapping around her legs. What they didn’t expect was the second presence that appeared. The smoky fingers quickly withdrew. They couldn’t see much, but they could hear the fight occurring around them. They waited on the basement steps until things calmed down, before a faint figure of a young woman appeared, shooting a quick wink to Y/N before disappearing back into the darkness of the basement. Raymond and Y/N shared a quick look of confusion before checking the basement and the rest of the home for stragglers and were surprised to find it now “ghost-free.

As they walked out hand in hand, Raymond commented “you know I can honestly say that was a first for me.”

“What? Having a ghost wink at you?”

“Oh no. I was quite the phantom’s man back in my single days. It was just my first time going into a dark, spooky basement without screaming like a little girl.”

The sincerity in his statement only made Y/N giggle harder. She loved her quirky, charming husband.

Raymond was lucky enough to have a family business, which meant he and Y/N always worked as a team. A few years into the marriage and they had really hit their stride. He would do a lot of the research on the location, past owners, local legends, etc. and whatever else he could find to figure out just what it was they’d be walking into. But Y/N, she was the “muscle” so to speak. She was much braver than he, and he loved her for it. They would take time to sit down with the owners together and do their best to determine just what was plaguing that home. Sure they’d find the occasional raccoon in the attic or something of the like, but surprisingly most of their calls were genuine. Together they ran a very successful and popular business.

——————————————————————————

The second time it happened was around the end of March. It was starting to warm up again, which mean Raymond was back in his rompers and boots, which Y/N loved. For some reason unbeknownst to him, she could not keep her hands to herself when he wore them. They had just begun to ascend the stairs of a very worn down home. Y/N kept teasing him, turning around to blow kisses or wiggle her hips a bit more than usual with each step. She got a little too distracted, tripping on a loose board and falling straight back. Before she could topple straight into him, she seemed to stop in midair, before slowly returning to an upright position.

“Was that- did they just catch you?”

She nodded, speechless.

They shared a look of surprise before continuing up to the attic. An hour or so later they had helped the spirit to find a lost heirloom it simply could not move on without.

That night in bed, Raymond simply couldn’t shut his mind off. Something was going on and it seemed to center around Y/N. He curled up tighter in his alien bed sheets, which he insisted on keeping despite a few eye rolls from the missus. Raymond turned on his side to find his wife also wide awake.

“Can’t sleep huh?” she asked, reaching out to stroke a thumb over his cheek.

He closed his eyes and hummed and the sweetness of her touch before opening his eyes again to meet her gaze.

“Yeah there’s just a lot on my mind lately. The ghosts have been- weird around us. Well, around you really. The kind ones never harm us but, they seem to be going out of their way to help you. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised though. You’re absolutely wonderful.”

He says the last statement so matter-of-factly there’s no doubt in her mind of his sincerity. She scoots closer until their noses are touching, as she continues to rub her hand across his face and through his hair.

“I was waiting for the right time to tell you” she whispers, a mysterious twinkle in her eye. She takes his hand and lays it gently over her belly, his long delicate fingers splayed over her skin.

“You’ve got a little one on the way.”

His brows knit in confusion. Surely she can’t mean…

“Raymond, you’re gonna be a daddy.”

His eyes grow big as his mouth opens, but no words come out. His face reads of pure adoration and joy, as he looks down, rubbing his fingers across what is soon to be her baby bump. When his eyes return to hers, they both share laughter of pure joy and disbelief.

“You’re sure? There’s really a baby in there?”

He stares at her belly with such awe. Y/N already knows he is so in love with their child. She couldn’t ask for a better father for her baby.

After much kissing and many giggles, Y/N rolls over as Raymond pulls her back against his chest, snuggling into her shoulder. He grabs her hand and places it back on her belly, before sliding his gently on top. They fall asleep together with sweet dreams of a future family.

———————————————————

Now that the secret is out things have gotten quite interesting. The spirits have been much more blunt with both of them. They were getting unsolicited but much appreciated advice from the most unexpected places.

An old woman haunting her granddaughter's house told them all the best foods and vitamins to help nourish the baby while still in the womb.

The spirit of a farmer’s wife told them all about the best birthing positions.

Spirit’s of two young ladies, sisters, helped teach them about the different options between breast feeding, pumps, and formula.

Several delightful young girls haunting a school have them lots of good ideas for names.

—————————————————————

They found out from the doctor that they’d be due in October, and the couple was absolutely ecstatic. A Halloween birthday for their first born. They couldn’t ask for a more perfect way to start their family.

Raymond began shopping accordingly as soon as he received the news. This included baby onesies which read: wicked cute, little pumpkin, and baby boo. Y/N just knew he’d go even more overboard with the newborn pictures.

“Look at this one though!”

“Raymond we have more baby clothes than they will ever be able to wear!”

He held up a little hat, knit look like a pumpkin, with a little green stem and leaves on top. As he held it up to his face, he gave his wife the saddest of puppy dog eyes.

“The hats pretty cute.” She leaned in and kissed his nose. “But you’re cuter. This is the last one though, Raymond. I mean it!”

It wasn’t.

—————————————————————-

Then one day it happened. They were helping with a haunting of a local business owner. Once again, the spirit was giving some input on what to expect, since they’re expecting.

“Oh and don’t worry, it shouldn’t take too long before you’re able to tell them apart.”

The wide eyed and confused glance shared between the couple told the haunt all it needed to know.

“Oh I’m sorry. I thought you knew… you’re having twins!”

After the initial shock and excitement wore off, Raymond turned to his wife with the biggest smirk.

“Looks like we’ll need more baby clothes after all.”

#suburban gothic #MGG #Raymond suburban gothic #fluff #pregnant reader #spooky #halloween fic

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tainted-wine · 4 years ago

Text

Evil Demonic Music

Priest!Reader X Demon!Present Mic

Hizashi has a large and filling feast on every Halloween night. He’s been doing it since before you were born. Yet here you are crashing his party while smelling like fresh meat in a den of wolves. It’s entirely your fault for throwing off his groove.

Disclaimer: Reader is more reminiscent of an action priest in a gothic action movie or anime. There’s little to no accuracy here. Lightning will most likely strike me the next time I venture outside.

Words: 7.9k

Warnings: Noncon/Dubcon, Christian Themes, Possession/Mind Control, Orgy, Public Sex, Sorta Corruption, Downer Ending

🎃👻🎃HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEN, EVERYONE!🎃👻🎃

------------x------------

Yuuei Club Presents “Dance With The Devil” Halloween Event LIVE Music by Present Mic Costumes Encouraged // Doors Open at 8 p.m.

It looked innocent enough; a graphical poster on the door of a building surrounded by smaller businesses in the outlet. It masked itself well in the daytime with its plain exterior, devoid of any attractive decorations save for the club’s name that glowed in hypnotizing neon when night falls. All of its temptations were contained inside, dormant until it was filled with careless souls seeking unholy pleasures.

You didn’t hate them for it. The temptation to sin is strong. It’s how evil thrives, and the average person lacks the strength to resist. It’s your duty to protect all people, even the faithless, from evil’s many devices.

Like this nightclub.

Party locations like these were an uncommon feeding ground, although now that you think about it, the muddled and vulnerable minds residing within should make for easy meals. The loud and nonsensical “music” and absolute lack of restraint that the people displayed was baffling, but your task is to guard souls, not convert and guide them back to Heaven’s path. One demon in particular, however, favored ‘party animals’ more than any other creature from the vile depths.

“Easy there! You glare at this place any harder and it might combust!”

To the average human, the monster that appears beside you is nothing more than a tall blonde man with an inviting smile, but he can’t hide himself from the blessed and perceptive. Beneath the guise of spice and incense, he reeks of smoke and brimstone.

Hizashi, as he called himself, will never fool you.

“Stay back,” spit nearly flies from how harshly you say the words. You know that he can’t harm you, not while you wear your cross around your neck and calmly hold thoughts of your Lord in your mind. Still, you warn the dangerous fiend to keep his distance.

He obeys and innocently raises his hands. “Hey hey, you know I’m not out to hurt you, and you’re not gonna pull anything with that crafty little weapon there, right?”

No, you weren’t going to take a stab at him with the blade hidden in your holy necklace. You tried it before, an attempt to drive it into his back when he wasn’t looking. His hand caught your wrist at a speed you couldn’t comprehend – you were certain that you didn’t blink, yet you didn’t even see him move at all. His friendly smile didn’t waver, not a hint of anger visible on his face.

“Careful, baby priest! Don’t mean to sound cocky, but I’m way out of your league.” The warning wasn’t in his words, but in the heat of Hell itself that briefly washed over you, a sensation so powerful and real that you feared you were being dragged down that very instant. But the unseen flames died off the second he released your hand, eyes flashing a bloody red before returning to their usual emerald hues.

That was the first and only time you tried to banish him.

“I don’t trust you, but I’m not stupid,” was your answer, making sure not to let your hatred and disgust cloud your mind. He might take hold of that.

It was a satisfactory response, going by his bright beam of a smile. So friendly and inviting.

Months had passed when you finally accepted that he was a demon who genuinely enjoyed living alongside humans. He never spoke ill of your fellow men and commended them for their many ways of enjoying their short lives. Most demons you’ve dealt with favor negative emotions. Fear, sorrow, anger… those cold and bitter feelings attracted hellbeasts like flies to honey.

But this one? He fed on mortals that were as cheerful and carefree as him. All of this still wasn’t enough to convince you that he is truly gentle, however.

Hizashi stayed where he was, staring at his own promotional poster. The urge to leave was almost overwhelming, but you couldn’t let him know how much he unnerved you with just his presence alone. Instead, you shuffle awkwardly and try not to utter prayers of protection. Whether or not that will anger him is something you don’t want to find out.

He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Are you pumped for the best night of the year? Man, Halloween never gets old for me, especially in this day and age. Everyone dancing while dressed like a bunch of monsters...it’s almost like I’m at home! Humans sure know how to party like tomorrow is The Cleansing.”

“Yes, and it’s shameful,” you humor him. “I have no interest in debauchery.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s called having a good time, babe. Put the tome down and loosen up every once in a while.”

Put down the tome?

Loosen up?

Babe?

How dare he make you even entertain the thought of abandoning your teachings. You just know he’s trying to rile you up, to make you lose control. You won’t let him have his way. “I have my good times in moderation, on days when I praise God with my brothers and sisters with a glass of wine. There is discipline in everything, even celebration. Heathens simply get drunk and lose themselves in the madness.”

The demon chuckled as he ran his fingers through long golden locks. Just the beautiful sheen of his hair could probably attract the greedy. ��Yep. Times sure do change, don’t they?”

“They don’t just change, they’re desecrated. What was once a day to ward off evil spirits now does the exact opposite. They’re too busy with their consumerism, candy, haunted houses…”

“Oh yeah, those haunted attractions are wild. So many of my buddies gorge themselves there. Free fear for the taking, ya dig?”

Despicable.

“And you don’t?” You test him. He was a conversationalist; a few probing questions won’t bother him, surely.

He withdraws his phone, scrolling through the screen for something. “Come on, you know me by now, don’t you? That sour stuff isn’t for me.”

“Forgive me for still struggling to trust you.” Sarcasm felt too risky, actually. You won’t use it again.

“Heh, no offense taken! You priests know just how cruel we can be sometimes. Mortals learned from the best, after all.”

Your lips twitch. His curve into a more wicked grin.

Every single passerby can’t seem to resist giving you odd looks. You can feel the eyes behind you as people make their way around the shops. Your garb wasn’t that strange; they’re acting like they’ve never seen a person in a robe and wearing several divine artifacts before. They would too if they knew what Hizashi was, who has yet to garner a single look of suspicion.

Ridiculous, his casual getup is actually fooling them. Perhaps the silly villainous mustache wasn’t big enough to give him away.

“Ah, here it is!” You nearly jumped from his voice and how quickly he leaned in, a video playing on his phone. “Just tap on the screen to play it an-”

“I know how to use a phone,” You hiss, taking the device from his hand and shooting him a glance every few seconds in case he tried something.

The video was chaos, an unsteady view of flashing lights and thumping heavy beats. Whoever held it was smack dab in the middle of an energetic crowd that sang and danced like barbaric animals. It was an orgy of overindulgence. Too much drinking with their comically shaped cups and bottles, too much lust in their crude excuse of a dance, and synthetic drums that dragged on for so damn long, even the beat sounded drunk. It’s not the first time you heard the horrid noise; it unfortunately appears to be popular among the masses.

God help these poor souls.

“Last year’s party.” Hizashi’s words cut through your thoughts. “Pretty hype, huh? Nothing gets my listeners goin’ like a hard trap beat!”

Oh? So he’s fully admitting it now? “So you’re calling it what it is, are you? Trapping them with your satanic melodies?”

The confusion on his face was very convincing, but you knew better. “What? No, that’s what the music is called.”

You couldn’t help but snort. “Please, demon. What do you think sounds more believable: A genre of music with such a simplistic and misleading name, or evil tunes that your kind uses to ensnare unassuming mortals that don’t know any better?”

“....um…”

“I thought so.” To think that he’d slip up so easily. He wasn’t as clever as he thought. “Tell me what happened to the people in this video. Are they alive? Or did you drain them until they were nothing more than lifeless husks?”

There was a snicker behind you. Both you and Hizashi turned around to see a young man holding his phone up with an amused smile, giving a little wave after being noticed. “Sorry,” he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I really like your costume, miss. Your acting is awesome, too.” With that, he put away his phone and whatever images he now has of you and continued on his merry way.

Impertinent juveniles.

“Anyway, they’re all fine,” Hizashi said, eyes returning to the door while tapping his feet to a beat you can’t hear. “I know how to feed without causing any serious harm. Even if I do go a little overboard, they’ll just brush it off as having too much to drink.”

“It doesn’t matter how good you are at controlling yourself. You’re an evil entity invading human minds.” It takes every bit of strength to not flinch when he looks at you. Again, there’s no anger – there’s never anger with him – and it makes you all the more uneasy. Maybe a being as ancient and influential as him doesn’t find a novice exorcisor like you worth getting angry or even annoyed over. “Your stench will remain on those people forever, attracting more of your kind to them unless someone like me finds and cleanses them.”

He shrugs and rubs at the back of his neck. “Come on, your boy is doing his best here. What do you want me to do? Starve?” He considers what he just said for a moment before laughing. “Nevermind, don’t answer that. Look, I ain’t leaving the stage, little priest. I’m addicted. The noise, the energy, the way everyone just loses themselves in all of it.”

The way his tongue peeks out to swipe over his upper lip has every hair on your skin sticking up.

“Man, I wish they knew just how sweet their own essence is when they’re caught up in the lights and music. Sweeter than any candy the kids will be bringing home tonight.”

He compares consuming pieces of a soul to children’s treats. “You’re really not helping your case,” you remark.

Another shrug. “C’mon, you say that like I actually have a chance at winning with you! I won’t hurt anyone in there. You have my word.”

You scoffed. “A demon’s word is-”

“Worthless, I know. See what I mean?” He withdrew a ring of keys out of his pocket. “Welp, I think we’ve stood here and stared at the door long enough. I gotta prep for the big night. Thanks for the company!” A few more seconds pass when he finds the right key and opens the entrance to the club.

You didn’t follow him inside. That would be careless.

Now it’s only you observing the building that will soon hold a giant living feast for the hungry monster. After another passing compliment about your “cool and authentic costume”, you figured you’ve stood around long enough. It was time to head home.

And find a way to keep everyone safe.

He was right; you have no way of getting rid of him yourself. That doesn’t mean you’ll stand by while knowing what danger these people will be walking into when night arrives. You’re not afraid to put your life on the line if it means protecting His children from the many evils on earth. When the first step of your plan takes root in your head, you change routes and make your way to the nearest costume shop.

Hizashi won’t be having his fill tonight.

---------------------------------------------------------------

8:30 p.m.

You weren’t expecting to encounter two demons tonight.

Well, perhaps that term isn’t appropriate. There is no sort of aura attached to the dark-haired man that you can trace back to the pits of Hell, but he is undoubtedly a creature of evil. One that was birthed from the shadows, living for eternity by lurking in darkness and drinking the blood of any unfortunate mortal that catches his eye.

“I knew it. I knew someone so close to Hizashi couldn’t be human.”

The vampire at the lively club’s entrance didn’t seem fazed by your accusation. He wasn’t even hiding himself. The sly bloodsucker knows that his crimson irises and enlarged fangs will be mistaken for prosthetics. Very convincing prosthetics.

“Nice to see you too,” he deadpans.

You’re getting a little tired of these beasts brushing you off. “So what’s your feeding plan here? Waiting to find an innocent maiden who wishes to see the sinful wonders inside, then take her to the back and drain her dry?”

“Like you?” The smirk doesn’t reveal any teeth, but his predatory eyes are enough to make you step back and grip the cross that still hangs around your neck. Your reaction makes him chuckle darkly before he returns to his regular disinterested self. “I already ate.” That monster. “I’m here because Hizashi thought I’d make for good security.”

“So you intend to drink from anyone that steps out of line?”

“No.”

“Lies. Look here, vampire…”

“My name is Shouta.”

“...You and your friend won’t be preying on these naive humans for much longer. He told me about his trap music, but I won’t let his songs bewitch anyone tonight.”

He stared at you, one eyebrow quirked high up. “Alright...can you give me your hand already? There’s a line growing behind you.”

You look over your shoulder, and there is indeed a line of disgruntled people dressed as various monsters and characters. You have to admit that their costumes look to be of higher quality than the angel outfit you hastily bought in the store’s clearance section. The fuzzy headband for your halo was itchy and your flimsy wings were on the verge of falling off with every sudden movement.

With a glare that messaged him not to try anything, you cautiously extended your arm. He took your hand in his – deathly cold – and wrapped a thin paper tag around your wrist. “Have fun.”

You always hate it when you can’t read their smiles.

The suffocating darkness around him was lifted when you made your way to the same doors you were looking at with so much contempt this morning. Glancing back, you saw others happily complimenting his ‘spooky’ appearance, to which he responded with either a quick thanks or a grunt. None of them seemed to notice his chilling aura or ice-cold touch.

Why must they be so blind to the evils that walk beside them everyday?

When you stepped in, the music nearly blasted you back outside. So loud, but not like the angelic choirs during gospel. You didn’t feel lifted, you just felt bombarded by pure noise. A repetitive tempo made the entire building pulse like a heartbeat. This didn’t sound like the music Hizashi supposedly used to put the crowd under a spell. It just repeated the same forsaken beat over and over again. Perhaps the repetition is meant to ease the victim’s mind and lure them in a false sense of security, then those long rolling beats will come in next, ensnaring them when their guard is down. Clever, but not clever enough.

You passed the lounge and bar area, paying no mind to the lecherous behavior around you. Boisterous laughs, alcohol being carelessly chugged…

“Hey there, angel.” A man dressed as a superhero nearly tripped over his own cape in his attempt to approach you. “You as innocent as you look? I can introduce you to the boUUUURP.” The sudden belch burned your poor eyes with the stinging smell of rum.

Lord have mercy on both you and these savages.

“No thank you,” you said through gritted teeth and brushed past him. The lights and colors are disorienting. Strobe lights, spotlights whizzing across the walls and floor, and vibrant ever-changing shapes on every surface. The intoxicated folk probably welcomed the flashing chaos. When you drink at the church, your sips stay modest and controlled, ensuring to never reach the stage of drunkenness. If you were feeling ‘buzzed’, as they would say, this musical and optical discourse would likely feel pleasant, like entering a world devoid of rules and consequences.

Also known as a world of sin.

A huge mass of bouncing bodies covered the dancefloor, and there on an elevated platform, acting as an advanced musical throne, was the evil orchestrator of the chaos.

And those long curved obsidian horns were most definitely real.

Even as he tampered with the many buttons and dials before him, Hizashi moved as wildly as his prey, too caught up in his own infernal electronic hymns to even notice your presence. Surely your chaste energy sticks out among these wrongdoers like a dove in a pit of serpents.

You need to activate your blessing before he eats. Good thing the vampire didn’t bother to inspect your costume for any natural evil repellents that you happened to be carrying.

Your self-made pockets were filled with sage and rosemary, common herbs used to drive away demons and spirits. You sprinkle them onto the floor as you continue to make your way to the center, where your power will work most efficiently. Hopefully their scent will not be overpowered by the sweaty bodies and breaths laced with alcohol of all kinds.

Pushing through the dancing crowd was an arduous task. The music had since switched to something faster and more aggressive. The hectic sounds in this one was making you miss the boring but calmer tunes from before. You never considered what the sound of a robot vomiting would sound like, but it would probably sound similar to the cacophony of ‘whirs’ and ‘wubs’ that were assaulting your ears.

The mass was pushing and tossing you every which way. The variety of masks and makeup beneath the constant moving lights was rather frightening. Of course, you’ve dealt with plenty of real monsters, but it disturbed you to see your fellow man acting in such a frenzied matter in such a perplexing setting. You can see why Hizashi adored this environment. You couldn’t tell the difference between man and beast.

Straightening your halo, you decide that this spot will fare well enough.

Now it was time to apply holy water around your feet. Just a few drops of the blessed fluid will be enough to protect everyone here.

You close your eyes, ignore the many bodies bumping against you, and pray.

O Lord, protect me from temptation.

The water trickles out before you.

O Lord, forgive those who have been led astray.

“WOOOO SHIT! THIS IS MY JAM!”

The nearby exclamation makes your eyebrow twitch.

For we know that your power is greater than any evil.

The song is deafening, but you keep going.

Grant, O Lord, the protection fro-

Someone violently collides into you, knocking the bottle right out of your hands and rolling away to disappear behind the wall of stomping shoes.

Shit! Forgive my language, Father!

You elbow the fools blocking your way, ignoring the occasional “hey” or “watch it” during your desperate search for the most important tool against evil influences.

You didn’t even finish your prayer. You need to at least do that first, before it’s too late. Clapping your hands together, you shut your eyes again and moved your lips rapidly.

OLordprotectmefromtemptationOLordforgivetosewhohavebeenledastrayforweknowthatyourpowerisgreaterthanany-

“HERE COMES THE DROP!”

The rhythm and bass changed drastically, and with it came a powerful wave of raw exhilaration.

It’s like a force was injecting every positive chemical directly into your bloodstream. The abundance of newfound energy needed to be released, just like the tension that was released from that beat drop.

Your hips are swaying in a way you’ve never moved them before, and you can’t make them stop.

Stop! Stop, please! This is his doing!

“How are my listeners doin’ tonight?!”

The demon’s voice booms through the speakers, seeping into your ears and filling you with so much excitement that you can’t help but cheer with everyone else. Your senses feel simultaneously enhanced and dulled. The humans around you were out of focus, but the diabolical DJ up ahead was so clear, it’s like you were right in front of him. The hunger in his currently red eyes struck fear in you even as you danced.

“Woo, I’m lovin’ this energy! Thanks for coming by this Halloween, ya little monsters! Now...bring this house down!”

Your heart accelerates from the rush and you begin to jump in sync with the possessed crowd. Even the people standing by or sitting at the bars couldn’t resist, joining the growing horde on the dancefloor to jump in unison.

It was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Not a care in the world. No customs, no praise. It didn’t give you that warm feeling of ascension. Instead you just felt...liberated.

No!

Struggling in the demon’s grip, you cleared your thoughts just enough to try to calm yourself and regain control.

Utter a prayer. Hurry. Focus. You need His protection.

‘Baby priest? Is that you?’

That is not the mighty entity you wanted to hear. The voice echoes in your head, impossible to escape. When your eyes open, you see that above the vast sea of faces, Hizashi is staring right at you.

‘I thought the dancefloor smelled a little weird! I was so busy feelin’ the beat that I almost missed you!’ You watched him laugh as he continued to violate your mind. Damn him. Wasn’t possessing you cruel enough? ‘Please, no prayers when I’m about to dig in. That’s gonna leave a bad taste in my mouth. Just keep groovin’ like everyone else!”

Your limbs obeyed without your consent and followed the rhythm. This didn’t even sound like the music you heard in the video. Were you just foolish in thinking that he only used one specific sound to trap his victims?

With another change in the bassline, a heavier weight invaded, reaching right into the depths of your heart and tugging at your very soul. You know that fear will only make you more defenseless, but there was no fighting the terror that overtook you.

Not when a demon was feeding from you.

Your brain clashed with itself. You had to keep fighting, even as he stole a fragment of what your gracious Heavenly Father had gifted you and every human, but the cheerful voices implanted in your mind begged you to stop worrying and just give in already.

There was no stopping your movements or the unending rush that surged as strongly as the music. Only now, as he completely ignored your holy safety measures and tainted your soul as easily as the oblivious heathens surrounding you, did you fully understand just how great the differences in power between him and you were.

‘Whoa...holy shit.’

The breathless moan in your head made you shudder.

‘I haven’t tasted a human as pure as you in ages.’

“Please! You’ve already fed from me!” You scream out loud as the mob revels in the thrilling sensation of having a part of them sucked away. Your voice is drowned out by the music and shouts, yet you know that the horrid fiend can hear you loud and clear. “Just get out of my head!”

The dancing stops.

The music stops.

Everything stops.

It’s relieving to finally let your body rest from the forced celebration. The lights still flash and move in the dead silence. Every single person in all of their costumed glory turns and pins you with a sharp glare. Their eyes were unfocused and glazed over, consciousness elsewhere. Hizashi was in full control of all of them.

The demon himself looked down at you, no longer wearing his usual friendly and carefree smile. He was now showing the more twisted happiness you were used to seeing on his kind.

Crazed and eager to devour.

He spoke into the microphone on his headset, voice low and eerily calm. “Angel, you can’t just give me a sample of a five-star meal and expect me to not want more.”

The dread threatens to make you faint.

“Hey, none of that!” He laughs and switches back to his cheery tone. “I told you the negative emotions aren’t for me. I mean, a lady as sweet as you is gonna taste delicious either way. Why don’t you come on up here?”

You didn’t want to. You wanted to flee from this entire situation that you foolishly believed you were ready for. You thought you could sneak into this age-old creature’s gathering and force him to go hungry for the night.

Cockiness treads horribly close to pride, and pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.

You clearly didn’t have a say in the matter, what with your feet moving forward on their own. Every individual in front of you stepped aside to create a clear path from you to Hizashi’s platform. Their eyes never left, heads slowly turning as they watched you slowly climb the steps with legs that trembled from your resistance.

As he stood tall clad in leather behind the large mixer table, you noticed along with his sturdy horns, he also sported a black pointed tail that lazily swayed behind him. And his stench...the foul smell that would often make you crinkle your nose was replaced with a pleasing fragrance, like a sweet and fruity beverage. It was undoubtedly the work of his spell; everything about him has suddenly become tempting.

At this point you were wishing for the music to return so that you couldn’t hear your thunderous heartbeat as you stopped right in front of him. His hellish eyes observed you from head to toe, holding his chin between his fingers before shaking his head and smirking.

“Ya really couldn’t find a better costume?” He snickered as he got closer and fiddled with your cheaply-made gown. You avoided looking directly into his eyes, afraid of falling into the blood-red depths and never finding your way back out. “Or do you priests work on a budget?” He pauses when he notices the contents in your pockets. “Oh?” A hand is shoved inside and pulls out a handful of herbs.

“Aww gross! Sneakin’ herbs into the joint?” He winces from the smell before tossing them aside, leaving them to scatter into the unmoving group below.

How? His reaction should have been much stronger…

“Not that this stuff really works when I’m vibin’ in my element, but I’m hurt! I thought we had some trust!” He pinches your cheek, knowing that you’re unable to pull away. “And I thought you knew that I was way out of your league. You’re gonna need the big guns if you plan on keeping me away from my food.” The breath blowing into your face is abnormally hot.

There’s a layer of something otherworldly hidden in his tone whenever he emphasizes his words, like a filter poorly attempting to cover up a monster’s true guttural voice.

But once again, he switches back to normal, which does nothing to calm you. “But I’m not gonna get mad at some rookie that doesn’t know better, especially one as tasty as you!” Twirling around, he pushes a few buttons on the table that you didn’t even know where to begin to figure out.

“Sorry about the interruption, listeners!” He says to the crowd, cruelly acting like they have any ability to respond. They continue to stare blankly. “I hope you don’t mind if I switch things up a bit. Your boy is gonna be a little preoccupied during the next few tracks.”

The deafening silence is lifted with the start of a new song, and the people suddenly spring back to life, completely unaware of the mindless state they were in. Their only goal was to keep partying.

Your body was moving again as well, this time bobbing gently to the double and triple beats and low frequencies that vibrate through the floor and up your spine.

This...this was the type of melody you feared, and yet it didn’t affect you any more than the other songs. All of them were traps.

The only way you can think of fighting back is by filling your head with songs of praise. Keep your Lord in your thoughts. He will protect you.

“Tsk...angel, that stuff doesn’t work when I, ya know, already ate a piece of you.” His face tightened from hearing just a few seconds of the holy song in your head. “I told you, ya gotta loosen up a bit. You’re already dancing better than I thought you would!”

He paid no attention to his other prey, instead admiring your simple but energetic movements.

Then he began to move as well, shoulders doing a slow shimmy and following each of your steps with his own, moving closer and closer until he was able to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you in.

He’s warm. Not burning or emitting an aura of terrifying darkness. The music suddenly feels softer, easing your fears. Like an intimate embrace.

“There, it’s not so bad, is it?” He says lowly, lips almost touching your face. “Quit thinking about your big daddy for once.”

You want to protest against the disrespectful nickname for your God, but he predicts your reaction and tightens his hold on your spirit.

“You taste so damn incredible right now, don’t mess it up,” he groans and savors you. With every part of you that is consumed, it becomes harder to resist. It would be so easy to just hold onto him and keep swaying like this, rocking back and forth as his hips press against yours, grinding into you.

The unfamiliar sensation startles you, but Hizashi shuts down your panic with a growl. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve forgotten.” he murmurs into your shoulder, breathing deeply to take in your scent. “I’ve been so hooked on the party life that I forgot just how heavenly innocents like you taste. To think that I’d have an actual priest dancing with me, tasting that revelry from such a pure source...pardon my blasphemy, but goddamn.”

You’re swimming through the fiery haze clouding your mind, clawing against it in a desperate search for an opening. But with every beat, the haze thickens and you sink further in.

You couldn’t find the light. No salvation.

More sinful feelings assault you from the friction of his groin against yours, a growing bulge rubbing on your most sacred area. It sends a foreign tingle down there.

“Ooooh, don’t think I can’t feel that, baby” he rasps, holding you so closely in a dance fitting for two lovers. “I can sense everything now that you’ve let me in.”

That angers you enough to find your voice again, just barely. “I didn’t let you in...” You tense from another hard grind. “Foul...beast.”

“Are you sure? You’re giving in pretty easily. It’s nothin’ to feel bad about, I promise. Humans aren’t built to resist life’s basic needs, so I don’t know why the big man in the clouds gets so wound up about it all the time.”

How dare he.

“Damned snake!” You force your hands to beat against him and push him off. “You will not corrupt me with the Devil’s words!”

He’s actually shocked for a moment, even to your own surprise, but he laughs it off. “Geez, my bad! I guess you are pretty persistent. Must be…” He grabs the cross around your neck, ignoring your horrified gasp. “...this.”

With a sharp yank and a pinch at the back of your neck, your one remaining object of holy protection is removed.

And with its loss, his influence completely overpowers you. The clearness of your senses switches on and off.

The music is muffled. It’s too loud.

The roaming lights are blurry. Too bright.

Are you still moving? Or is your body too heavy?

“It stings a bit, but that little thing can’t do much when the wearer’s already under my control.” An unfocused image of the demon tossing your precious necklace over his shoulder, the necklace you’ve held close to you since the day you first stepped into the cathedral and accepted your role as a righteous defender of man.

Your essence is now being stolen so quickly that it makes you shiver. He shouldn’t be taking this much.

“Mmm, I can’t get enough of this,” Teeth that are too sharp brush against your neck, threatening to pierce your skin. “I’m an old guy, ya know. I’ve done a lot of experimenting over the centuries, to see what I’m into.”

There’s a rip, and your gown is being pulled down along with your wings. It only relieves you from the growing heat of your surroundings.

“Y’see, our daddy isn’t a helicopter parent. He brings us into the world and just...lets us decide what to do. So no, my words ain’t the Devil’s words. They’re just mine, honey. I live for myself.”

Tilting your head, he presses his lips against your throat, making your breath hitch. No, your body is sacred. Don’t let him do this to you.

You don’t even know when the music had changed, but you’ve noticed the club was filled with a synthetic ambiance, the colors switching to magenta and cyan.

The party demon is so captivated by you that he doesn’t even acknowledge the change in tune. “I used to stalk the depressed. Wasn’t worth it, they were too bland.” He peppers kisses down to your collarbone. “I tormented scared paranoid folk. Fun, but it loses its flavor fast.”

Your bra is removed to expose your breasts to him and the entire populace within the building. Your heart races, but the synths don’t stop seeping into your ears, the bliss wrestling with your fear.

“Shh, don’t freak out. I’ll make sure everyone forgets everything that happened tonight.” He attempts to reassure you while massaging your newly revealed mounds. “So time went on as I treated my palate to different tastes. Wasn’t long before I realized my favorite vibes were the good ones. Festivals, games, a few buddies hangin’ out,” he lowered himself and flicked your nipple with his tongue. “Or a couple fucking, I ate all of it up. And after a while I decided that I just liked people in general.”

The pleasure felt when your breast is engulfed by the heat of his mouth is shameful. Hizashi moaned at your taste, though you weren’t sure if it was the taste of your flesh or your lust that was exciting him.

“I liked it when humans were having good times, so I figured out how to join in on the fun and damn, how do you guys keep finding new ways to rock out? The prudes keep droning on about how my favorite type of people have lost their way, but I think they’re the ones who found paradise, and they’re not even dead yet!” After nursing on both of your breasts, he rises and grabs your face to turn it toward the crowd. “I mean, just look at how these guys – oh.”

‘Oh’ indeed.

The people were no longer dancing. They were grabbing at each other, at men and women they probably didn’t even know, tearing apart clothes in a vicious urge to fornicate right there on the dancefloor. Some of them were already completely nude. You avert your eyes to stare at your feet instead.

Hizashi cleared his throat. “Whoops. Look what ya made me do, angel. My lust got the best of me!” He held you close while watching the horrid act before him. You’re trying to move your heavy arms to cover your bare body. “No wonder I’m feeling so horny. Think I should make them stop?”

It takes effort to nod your head.

His lip sticks out in an exaggerated pout before going, “Nah. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen an orgy. I bet this is a first for you.”

Something tickles your hips, your eyes wandering over to see the arrow-like point of his tail curling around your white panties, tugging them down.

Part of you already knows that Hizashi is allowing you to struggle for his own amusement. With all of your protection gone, he can easily stop you from swatting at the flexible limb as it brings your final article of clothing down to your ankles.

Wearing nothing but the small strap around your wrist, you want so badly to curl up and hide yourself. You were completely bare on a stage with a demon quietly taking in your form. The contrasting feelings of anxiety and calm threaten to tear your psyche in half.

“Given how anal you guys are about chastity, I think it’s safe to say no one’s ever touched you before?” The way you tense tells him enough. “Alright alright, relax. I’m gonna make this easy for you.”

‘How? By letting me leave?’ You want to say, but your vocal chords aren’t cooperating.

He grinned from ear to ear. “Well, no. I told ya I know everything goin’ on in that head.” He grabs you by the shoulders and places you right in front of his mixer.

There were many suggestive sounds amongst the pile of writhing bodies before you. It was the most depraved sight that you’ve ever witnessed. These people may have been sinners for their immoral pursuits, but they were still victims of a wicked creature’s influence. You wish you could apologize to all of them for failing to protect them.

Slender fingers massaged your shoulders. “Ain’t it beautiful?” He whispers hotly into your ear. “I’m not that crazy about lust, but I can’t resist when it’s coming from someone like you.”

His aura has you shackled on the spot, unable to move or even tear your eyes away from all of the sex. His voice meshes with the increasingly sensual tunes, both him and the music putting you in a deep trance that leaves every nerve in your body extra sensitive.

You’re gently pushed to lean forward until your hands are supporting yourself on the table. The leather of his clothes pressed against your back is irritating, but easily overshadowed by the hands trailing down your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“One of my favorite hobbies was hunting down faithful maidens like you. All demons love doing it, really. You can’t top raw innocence, it’s always a delicacy. It’s the closest most of us will ever get to fucking an actual angel. I managed to fuck an angel, and lemme tell ya, it’s a once in an eternity experience.”

He reaches your mound. There is still fear and an urge to pray, though it’s drowned out by the electronic harmony and all of the hot sex.

“Now she’s a fallen one that hangs out with me. Pretty little devil’s obsessed with sex now. If you’re lucky, maybe she’ll give you a visit in your sleep at midnight.”

His fingers reach your untouched folds, making you gasp. You’ve never felt so much lubrication down there before. Was that normal?

“I was really good at the whole corruption thing, so good that I caught the attention of the big holy boys. They were toughies, gotta hand it to 'em. I decided to lay low after that little showdown. That was all a preeetty long time ago.”

The demon’s voice is background noise as you watch deplorable acts that you didn’t even know existed. One woman was taking a cock into her mouth while another man pounded into her from behind. A new male approached and grabbed her free hand, wrapping her fingers around him and encouraging her to stroke him.

Three men pleasuring themselves with the same woman. They were probably complete strangers.

The repulsive sight makes you wetter.

They sure were having fun.

Hizashi hums at your arousal, sinking a digit into your folds.

“Ah,” you choke on your own voice. His other hand plays with your breast again while you’re being penetrated for the first time. Some sort of flame was growing within you, burning and pleasing at the same time.

“I thought I’ve found my place. Going place to place and bringing in crowds who just want to forget their troubles for a day and groove.”

The finger pushes through your tightly clenched walls, or at least they try to.

“Fuck, relax a bit, babe,” he groans.

You do exactly that, giving him enough leeway to push in and out at a steady pace. You don’t think about the violation, only the strange friction that has no right to feel as good as it does.

“And then you come along,” An unexpected sharp thrust causes his finger to brush against a spot that fills your vision with even more blinding lights. “It’s not like I was after you or anything. You’re a solid negative ten on the threat scale, but ya just wouldn’t leave me alone!” He relentlessly hits the spot again, and again, until you’re crying out and your legs are shaking. “Then you waltz in here and try to ruin my favorite night of the year?

He’s able to hide his anger as he speaks, but fails to keep it from entering his possessed victims. The orgy becomes more violent, all of the people looking no more civil than savages in torn rags as they try to dominate and fuck each other senseless.

It affects you as well, going by how annoyed you’re getting by his rambling. Can’t he just focus on pleasing you?

His finger leaves you too soon, your cunt already missing the brand new sensations. “Sorry, babe,” he says when he releases you and begins to undo his pants. “Normally I’d spend more time warming up, but I gotta join in on the raunchiness now before I go nuts. Just...do me a favor.”

You whined, wiggling your hips and rubbing your ass against his freed cock. He only chuckles at your impatience.

“Slow your roll, I’ll get started as soon as you push that button riiiight there.”

You push one of the many glowing buttons, and stock phrases are shouted out of the speakers.

“No, the one next to it.”

You press it, and another song begins.

Hizashi hums in approval. “I usually do a smooth transition between songs, but…”

A hard impact knocks you forward with the overwhelming feeling of being completely filled all at once. The stretch and pressure has your mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

“....Yeah, I just wanted to do that. And-” He yanks the halo off your head and drops it at your feet. “-I always loved the symbolism in that.”

He wastes no time building up. You’re being pounded as hard and consistently as the energetic beat. It should hurt, but the euphoric state of your mind dulls any pain and discomfort.

With the demon inside both your head and your womanhood, there was no saving yourself. Your prayers wouldn’t even be heard through this thick depraved fog.

“Oh fuck yeah,” He growls loudly with his wild thrusts, hands gripping your hips tightly enough to bruise. “I’ve been missing out. So hooked on the party life that I don’t even remember how it feels to eat up a modest little soul like this.”

Was he still devouring you? You can’t even tell, not while you’re trapped in this melodic dreamworld as his cock rams you.

“Ya mind if we do this again sometime?” He angled himself to ensure he was hitting that sweet spot with each rhythmic pump. Despite his aggression, his hips moved with musical purpose. “Not like you’re much of a priest anymore. You’re fuckin’ a demon, sweetheart. I think the pearly gates have closed for you.”

That sounds sad and all, but God does he feel good. The entire moment was feeling like a hallucination. Your world was saturated with fuzzy images and muffled bass as your virgin pussy was ravaged. The tightened heat in your core was growing hotter by the second.

Hizashi just wouldn’t stop talking even as he became short of breath. “Ah, don’t worry, my doors are always open to misfits!” His rhythm falters a bit when you give him an especially tight squeeze. “Ya like that? I can always wipe your memory of tonight along with everyone else’s, and you can head back home. I just don’t think your next visit to the house of God is gonna end well.”

How does he expect you to care with the way he’s plowing into you?

His arms wrap around you in an embrace. “No pressure, angel. You can decide later. For now, just enjoy the show.”

And finally, he shut up and focused on fucking your divine lights out.

With his pelvis flush against your ass, Hizashi humps with newfound vigor, his thrusts rapid yet precise enough to keep stimulating your most sensitive areas.

The blinding stars in your eyes make it impossible to even make out what’s happening in front of you. A shame, because you want to know if you’re being dicked down as good and hard as the whores on the dancefloor.

The demon may not be talking anymore, but he was still being very vocal about his pleasure with feral moans and growls right into your ear.

An extra hard slam forces you to nearly topple onto the controls, hands scrambling to keep you upright and hitting several buttons in the process.

A series of sounds and distortion effects are added to the song.

It unexpectedly riles him up. “Shit, that wasn’t a bad mix, angel. I might have a junior DJ in the making,” he praises.

The tempo changes - different speed and new layers - and Hizashi follows suit by switching his quick bucks into deep thrusts.

The fire inside was close to doing...something. You weren’t sure what it was or what exactly will happen if this lasts any longer, but part of you knows that it’s about to feel very good.

With the head of his dick striking you nice and deep, you quickly learn that you were right.

The explosion of spasms was too pleasurable to even comprehend, each contraction tearing filthy screams from your throat. Hizashi bursts soon afterwards and fills you up with a cry even more lewd than yours.

Just like that, your mind is freed and the weight of his aura is lifted...and you feel gravely tired.

A coldness sweeps over you and saps every ounce of your strength. You find yourself dropping to your knees and falling over as a distant voice expresses genuine worry.

“Oh.......I overfed.” Though it doesn’t sound as panicked as it should.

You don’t want to close your eyes. You fear that something terrible might happen if you do, but your eyelids are quickly becoming too heavy to fight.

“Really sorry, little priest! I didn’t mean to! Look at the bright side - my friends are gonna love ya down there! Home isn’t half as bad as those books make it out to be!”

Each word sounds fainter than the last, but you still catch each one.

Home?

Your eyes shut.

And the remains of your soul become stained with ash and black before heading downwards into the demonic realm.

Welcome home.

#smut #present mic #yamada hizashi #present mic x reader #broke: EDM is soulless #woke: EDM steals souls #tw noncon #tw death #tw mind control

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mirrerover · 4 years ago

Text

Big Plans

“You know shit’s never gonna fucking change, right?” Jason makes to grab for his Zippo. Remembering Dick will happily remove his nuts from his waxed sack for even contemplating smoking inside Dick’s apartment, he stops. His fingers twitch with irritation, nothing like a little nicotine deprivation to start the day. “Gotham’s a gothic nightmare where corruption runs thicker than blood and Blüdhaven’s worse, somehow. Like looking in a funhouse mirror. Uglier. More warped.”

“I really do enjoy our little morning pep talks,” Dick replies, closing the last two buttons on his dress shirt before tucking the fabric into the waistline of his pants. In general, Jason would say he prefers the Kevlar-enhanced, ass-hugging suit Dick prowls the night in—but there’s something to be said for a crisp, white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, forearm veins on display. He doesn’t know how the Blüdhaven criminals are faring but, personally, he wouldn’t mind letting Detective Richard Grayson slap some cuffs on him. Let Dick work him over hard in a surveilled box until Jason cracks, raw and bloody under the harsh fluorescent lights.

“These fucking places,” Jason grumbles, tired and cranky from watching Dick getting ready to leave, all that warm, gold skin about to slip right out the door. “It’s not something anyone can fix. Nothing short of dropping a bomb on the damn place and razing it to the ground.”

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. It’s getting longer, strands brushing the bone of his jaw. He’s no stranger to this; Jason and the trash he talks. Words pouring out of him sharp as knives, the blades full of blood. Just endlessly spewing shit.

“No point to it all, huh?” Dick leans a hip against the dresser, arms folded, eyebrow raised. There’s an ease to him that’s inherent; the way he owns his body, his space, every room he’s in. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to lure me back to bed.”

Jason thinks it over. Admits, “not originally,” and lets his legs fall apart slowly. Nude body lounging against cheap, synthetic pillows, he’s got Dick’s low-rent sheets strategically draped across his crotch, all tasteful and shit. Just like the Renaissance paintings cluttering the hallways of the Wayne Manor. None of the shameless, naked peacocking Dick gets up to after sex. No, Jason’s classy. Artful. The signature Jason Todd brand. “But are you feelin’ down to fuck?” he asks.

Dick throws his head back and laughs. Really fucking laughs. Eyes scrunched up and shoulders shaking, all charisma and beauty and warmth. Laughing like that, it’s suddenly easy to see how a group of metahumans chose Dick as their leader despite his lack of superpowers or how the Blüdhaven Police Corps would accept him as their own despite him being the ward of Gotham’s favourite billionaire asshole. There’s something about Dick like there’s something about Bruce. Something captivating and inescapable that would make you launch a thousand ships for them. Burn down entire worlds for them. Jason’s not sure Dick’s aware of that. And in a way, Jason thinks he understands the Joker better than Bruce ever could.

Dick’s laughter fades too slowly, and Jason would be annoyed but there’s a tightness to Dick’s pants that wasn’t there two minutes ago, and Dick’s always laughing. Joyful and happy. Like those are easy feelings to conjure and easy feelings to have. As if getting out of bed isn’t like crawling out of a dark pit every morning and as if life isn't like taking a suckerpunch to the gut, over and over.

“Wish I could,” Dicks says, and Jason swears he sounds like he means it. “But I got big plans today. Gotta save a city.”

“‘Save a city.’ Jesus Christ. More like go get shanked in the gut.”

Dick shrugs and slips on a watch. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

The other bats all have their day jobs. The Police Detective, the Socialite, the rising Tech Wunderkind, and Jason’s personal favourite: the Student. Jason derives no small amount of pleasure from knowing that Bruce and the Demon Spawn get to suffer through the worst of it. Like an ill-fitted suit, Jason hopes it pulls and itches every time they’ve got to slip their disguises on. It shows how removed they are from the rot and the grit and the filth of what is Gotham. The gore at the core of it all.

That’s where Jason lives, at its epicentre.

He’d fallen into it naturally, being a crime lord. It had been a logical first step when he’d come home, head full of green fumes and rage. He’s proud to say, he puts the organized in organized crime. Outshines even the worst of them in calculated vicious violence. The crime part of the job, Jason can admit he’s gotten more discerning about. There’s no peddling drugs to kids or bleeding junkies dry, no people traded like cattle, and he doesn’t like selling guns to the lowlifes clogging Gotham’s streets. So, he’s become a parasite instead. Infiltrates a crime organisation and eats it from the inside out till it finally collapses. Scraps the dead beast for parts and money.

It’s not something Jason talks about with this version of Dick. His shady deals, his underground moonlighting. Never with a cop like the one making his way to the bed right now, uniform tight over thick thighs and a sway in his hips that’s nothing less than sexual warfare.

“Try smoking in my bed again, Todd,” Dick warns, looming over him. He stops whatever threat he was going to utter, disrupted by Jason grousing at him to fucking let that go already. Perfectly pleasant, Dick does exactly that. Just stares at Jason with a face far too naked and utterly too fond. Something’s creeping under Jason’s skin at the sight of it—an itch he doesn’t know how to scratch, unable to decide whether he wants to kiss the prick or break his perfect face instead.

A little lower, there’s a bruise peeking out of Dick’s collar that looks like a handprint. Jason had put that there last night. Violently. Not even the fun kind of violent but the messy kind. The kind where something hunts Jason through nightmares and his body acts before his sleeping brain has had the chance to catch up—that kind of violence. Maybe a better person would wallow in the guilt and remove themselves from the situation. Not Dick and Jason. They just get better at hiding the batarangs and guns. The 200 pounds of well-trained muscle and murderous reflexes are a little harder to counteract but Dick’s no babe in the woods. Besides, Jason’s not exactly the first lethal bitch between Dick’s bedsheets.

Dick smiles. A teasing thing full of soft edges. “Mornings are hard. Aren’t they, Sugarplum?”

“Fuck you to hell.” Jason groans with feeling, hating the hard lumps of Dick’s mattress when he sinks back into them. “Just get lost already, Birdbrain. There’s no fucking point to you with your clothes on.”

“Nice to know I’m not completely useless.”

Jason wants to fight that far too favourable self-assessment. Would fight it, were he not half a pack of Lucky Strikes and three cups of coffee short of mustering the energy. Which is also the only reason he’s letting Dick press an off-centre kiss to his forehead. A shitty place for a shitty kiss from a shitty person, if you ask Jason. Very much Dick Grayson’s style.

“Try and behave, Little Wing.” Dick’s already moving away from the bed and shrugging on a jacket. “I really like this place. Got three South facing windows and none of the neighbours run a meth lab.”

“Prime Blüdhaven real estate,” Jason mutters darkly.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Dick takes one last look at himself at the mirror, shoots Jason a tacky wink because his existence is a curse, and promises under his breath something that sounds suspiciously like I’ll be back or I’ll miss you. Another twenty seconds later and Jason hears the front door lock click back into place.

His day is wide open now.

There are things to do but there are always things to do. At any time, Jason’s got about forty things in various stages of motion. Always working on something. Someone. Bigger games than the one he’s running on Dick right now, lighting one up in his bed.

Blowing smoke up into the air, Jason decides that today he’s going to crack the safe Dick keeps behind the panel in his closet. Perfectly harmless, really. Just him fishing through some of Dick’s case files—maybe even solving a few, if he’s feeling charitable. And for tonight, there’s that Malaysian place three blocks over that does a better Rendang than anything he’s found in Gotham. Dick never shuts up about it. Like he’s never going to shut up about the cigarette smell seeping into the wallpaper.

Jason smirks. Solid options. He still has last night’s terrors painted on the back of his eyelids and the feeling of Dick’s neck under his hand but they’re slowly fading. And Dick’s got him covered, said he’d take care of the big plans, so Jason doesn’t have to. And next time, when Jason’s Dick and Dick’s Jason, he’ll have Dick covered too. Jason will tackle the big plans while Dick raids Jason’s fridge and leaves wet towels all over his apartment. Jason knows it’ll happen. It has happened. Just not today.

Maybe tomorrow.

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@wethatake thanks for being the beta and basically a co-writer. You suck but I love you. <3 Here’s to hoping that your sad little sack of a co-worker doesn’t kill you. XD

#jaydick #jaydick-flashfic #jaydick-flashfic: big plans #jason todd #dick grayson #mirre writes

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