#I’m like a fucking cartoon character my face gets all red and I get all sheepish with a goofy smile

[ruthytwoshakes]

fat girl smiled at me today I AM WINNING AT LIFE 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[reidslovely]

Hi Bambi! Sorry this is late, but I’m always down to talk about Peter 🕸️❤️ How do you think he’d handle a “there’s only one bed” situation?? I can’t decide if he’d be cocky or awkward lol, but probably both

So glad you’re getting back in the swing of things! (Pun intended)

abby always a joy to see you in my inbox!! and it is not at all late (if anyone is late it is me hehe) requests will be open for quite a while!! i think that this is a very complex question i feel like peter would be too cocky about it to cover up how excited he'd be to share the bed. but at the same time your friends sooo it would be weird right??? let me walk you through it.

please reblog or comment when you like!!<3

Peter Parker ever since you had known him  was very shy, and couldn't talk his way out of a wet paper bag around girls. Not in elementary school or middle, and definitely not in high school. Maybe that's why you found the boy next door to be such an interesting person. Nearly six foot tall, eyes that could win any girl over, yet anytime he opens his mouth...pure word vomit. Peter Parker in college was the same, yet by this point he had done the whole boyfriend girlfriend thing and learned to hide his nervousness behind shitty flirting and the cockiness that seemingly flew out of nowhere the middle of senior year. 

However that shield broke the moment you checked into the beachside hotel. 

It was a gorgeous hotel sitting on the beachfront of Ocean City. Peter had booked the first hotel that popped up, and got the cheapest room they had moments after planning the impromptu spring break trip. However, opening the door he realized why a four night stay was so cheap for two people. A single bed sat in the middle of the pale blue room, the duvet a soft yellow with flowers sitting on the bed. 

“Oh I fucked up.” Peter mumbled laughing, tossing a quick glance at you. Hopefully you hadn’t thought this was a part of some long pawn he’d been playing to get you to fall into bed with him after all these years. Making a mental note to have May or you book a hotel for the next trip if there would ever be another trip after this. “Mhm, big time” You teased back sitting on the soft memory foam of the king bed. Peter rolled his eyes playfully, sticking his tongue to his teeth shaking his head. 

“You mean you don’t want to sleep with me? Could have fooled me.” 

Peter felt like his skin was on fire, he was praying you couldn’t see how red his face was. 

You scoffed, eyes following him around the room. “Hey you’re the one who looks like you’re about to burst into flames.” Mhm he was not hiding it well. “Well you’re passing up the chance of a lifetime, there are plenty of girls who would be dying to be where you are right now missy.” 

Peter states smugly, placing his hands on the back of his neck, making his torso a perfect target for you to hit him with the pillow you were holding on your lap. “Okay okay I’m serious.” He defends throwing it back, the pillow landing at your feet. “I don’t have the money to afford another room and still be an active participant on this trip so…” He thinks for a moment looking at the couch resting at the foot of the bed. “We can share a bed Peter.” 

The words made him want to giggle and kick his feet like a cartoon character. He hid a smirk forming on his lips, clearing his throat. “I mean I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” “We used to share beds as kids.” You stated like it was no big deal. The two of you did share beds a lot until around middle school. Peter remembers being scared of sleeping on your floor so you’d let him into your bed at sleepovers, or Peter insisting that it was ungentlemanly to let you not have the bed at his house so the only explanation was to share. 

“Yeah but we were kids, now we are…” 

He was getting shy, and he felt so silly over it. Would sharing a bed really change nearly twenty years of friendship? 

“Fine, since you’re begging me to sleep with you. I’d be so evil to deny you.” Peter sighs like it is the most annoying situation ever. Hours at the beach took his mind off of what tonight would bring. He got excited and flattered at the thought of sleeping next to you, and felt like he was a kid in the science museum again. Once you both returned to the hotel Peter let you shower while he tried to figure out the best way to go about this. He turned the TV on to kill his mind a little bit, he lies in multiple different ways trying to make it seem as normal as possible yet he felt silly. 

Nothing felt natural.

Until you got in the bed with him. Your head on his shoulder as you scrolled on your phone, Peter watching the TV glancing at you occasionally. His hand rubbing your side slowly makes his heart flutter, instinctively he buries his head in your wet hair smiling at the videos on your phone. 

“What are you doing weirdo?” 

“I love you..I love this.”

 He whispers, nudging his nose against your head, it falls out so perfectly. It makes the moment even more perfect. You laugh, not out of disgust or shock but it is a laugh of relief. He sinks down into the bed pulling you with him, holding you closer. Pete hums awaiting a response watching you put your phone down.

“If I knew getting you into bed with me would be what made you finally confess I would have used that years ago.” “Mhm well..y’know what they say.”

“What do they say?” 

“Usually I love you too” He snickered, pushing hair from your forehead kissing softly. 

“Go to bed” You laugh smacking his chest. Peter hums holding you closer, closing his eyes, head still in your hair. Against his skin hears and feels your soft reply of 

“I love you too.”

🩵

hope that tickles your itch abby

__

forgot to do the taglist on the last few posts but doesn't really matter because some of those I tag never really interact with the fic lol.

@helloheyhihowdyheya @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @megmehz @sincericida @andrews-lovr @eevylynn @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[lolasimms]

Hiii Lola how you've been? Hope you're alright, sweetie, sending love to ya! ♡

I was thinking the other day about modern!abby being outside doing some stuff and immediately sees like a plushie or something that she knows reader would love so she buys it and she is like "I thought about you when I saw this so I bought it, you like it?" Looking at reader with her pretty eyes and a tiny pout on her lips but when reader almost scream of joy she smiles and looks at her all full of love! 💌🧸

– saia ୨୧

Strawberry Shortcake - Abby x reader

Hey Saia, I’m sorry it took so long for me to get to your ask. Thank you for it though <3

Throughout your relationship both you and Abby made it a habit to spontaneously gift each other. It started off when you’d both confessed that one of your many love languages was gift giving, so when you realised she would like your gifting and she vice versa, you both went ham. Though Abby always felt self conscious in the things she’d choose to buy, partly due to her partners in the past always finding her gifts “too considerate” or “too practical.”

You however always loved that whenever Abby bought you something it was straight from the heart. She was never one to buy an item for you simply because of the brand name or the price, she prided herself on knowing you, knowing what you liked. Abby was always considerate, that was evident in all she did for you.

Today like any other, Abby had finished up a few classes and then headed to the store to run some errands. The store cart was filled with vegetables, fruit, a selection of yoghurts, your favourite spreads, rustic loaves and a little bottle of wine. Once she was satisfied, she’d crossed out the items she’d already gotten before heading to the hygiene isle to get the last items on her list. She was a very precise shopper, the kind who had a list and always made sure to stick to it. Unless of-course, she saw something that you might like.

So when she mistakenly took the wrong turn into the toys and plushies isle, her attention was immediately diverted when she spotted a strawberry shortcake plushie that just screamed you. All thoughts of going off the list were thrown out the window when she imagined the look on your face when you see the plushie of your favourite cartoon character. The one that you’d told her so much about. She even remembers the time you’d excitedly made her watch a few episodes when you found out it had gone to streaming.

She grabbed the soft plushie taking in its bright red hair, rosy cheeks, scattered freckles. She was cute and sweet, just like you her little strawberry. Once she’d gotten home she felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling within her stomach. She was sure you’d love it, but she always had the tendency to second guess herself.

“I’m back!” She calls out, placing the crotchet grocery bag you’d made for the house, on the kitchen island before moving into the living area to find you.

“Hey baby.” You smile, lying on the couch with your laptop across your legs. You shut it, before making your way over to her. Her arms are suspiciously folded behind her back, but you ignore that and wrap your arms around her neck.

“I might’ve gotten you something.” She gives you that cute shy smile she always does when she’s done something sweet.

“Abby, you know you don’t have to always get me stuff whenever you leave the house!” You squeak, pinching her reddening cheeks and then kissing them.

“I know, but I wanted to. I really think you’ll like it.” She removes her hands from behind her back to reveal the plush and immediately you let out an ear piercing squeal.

“Abby!!!! It’s…”

“Strawberry Shortcake.” “STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE.” You both say in unison, yours coming out as more of a scream compared to her calm tone. She’s looking at your face as you take in the plush, just admiring it and she’s so fucking happy that you love it.

“She’s my favourite, I love it sooo much baby!” You’re holding the plush to your chest, jumping up and down and she’s just admiring how sweet and cute you are. Her little strawberry.

C’est inspiré par mon préféré dessin animé Charlotte aux fraise <333333

[kinsey3furry300]

My top 5 hairstyles from The Owl House that I am very normal about.

Luz, specifically her in the season 2 finale, and post time-skip.

While in season three Luz spends a lot of time wearing a hat or in Halloween costume, which means we don’t get to see her hair, I still fucking LOVE what the animators did to her hair late in season two/ end of season three, specifically, the little mini-pony tail she’s rocking when she rescues Amity. It’s got a very 1700’s short Queue/ gentlemen’s club-tail pirate vibe to it, giving the whole scene a swashbuckling and romantic vibe as Luz literally climes up onto the balcony of her love interest’s boudoir to rescue her from her evil and overbearing mother, It’s wonderfully practical, romantic, tomboy-ish and playful, and seems like a direct fuck you to Bellos who also wears his hair in a similar tied-back style.

look at those pants tucked into tall boots and tell me they weren't thinking pirate.

It hints at a volume and springiness of hair that make you realise that the animators and design team actually considered Luz’s Afro-Latina roots before promptly forgetting that again for most of season 3, only to bring it back for the post time-skip Luz. 9/10

Amity, specifically the change in hair colour.

This is just great character design: using the character’s visual design to communicate information about her to the audience: her hair is neat, prim, proper… restraining, very tied back, not at all free, and not only is it clearly a dye job, but a bad one, with the visible change in colour at the roots. You can tell from her hair, she is not happy with who she is at that point in her life. She’s had her hair done to blend in with the twins and her mother, be a part of a matched set, and you can see how she doesn’t care for it or she would have done something about those roots: bits of the real her, bits of her father’s influence, bleed through without Amity even realising. And then… BLAM.

Change to a purple do, the colour of abominations reflecting her talents and passions, which incorporates hints of her natural brown hair deliberately and thoughtfully. It’s even called out by the twins that her mom would hate it. It’s also a very similar colour to the purple on the Bi pride flag, and seconds after Luz see’s her with it for the first time, Amity kisses Luz for the first time. New hair, new her. It’s a colour that pairs well with the blues and purples Luz typically wears, and close to the shade you would get if you colour-averaged the Dominican Republics’ flag (thought that’s probably just a coincidence). It’s Amity rejecting who her mother wants her to be, and embracing the person Luz sees her as, and I Love it. 9.5/10

Principle Bump

You mean to tell be that Pallisman was hiding yards upon yards of the most beautiful silky flowing hair I’ve ever seen in a cartoon? Sir, you can not just drop that much swag mid-way thought season two, and not in the presence of minors, it’s just too sexy. 10/10.

And speaking of too damn sexy… Eda Cawthorne, the Owl Lady.

Oh my god yes. Just yes. Chef’s kiss perfection. Hair so voluminous it has dominates the outline of the character creating a distinct silhouette even at distance, hair that bobs and move in the action sequences with it’s own weight an gravity. I’m amazed she can walk, let alone strut, given that her centre of gravity must be a foot behind her head. Hair so voluminous you struggle to hide it when you’re in disguise, and so magical it has it’s own pocket dimension for storage and/or is just so big you can keep stuff in there like a handbag.  By the Titan, drown me in your hair Owl Lady.

Special shout out to the pre-curse Eda hair as well: Flaming red, with her golden eyes, her narrow, pointed face and (even for a witch) huge pointed ears and the two hanging bits at the front that look like fox-tails? You just know Raine took one look at this and the carved their Fox Pallisman the very next day (and while it’s cannon that carving Owlbert was an attempt by Eda to reclaim some positive association with owls in her mind post-curse, the fact Raine looks like an owl with their big round glasses and little round face must have been on Eda’s mind:  it’s my headcanon they carved their Pallisman’s to look like each other.)

11/10, perfect character design.

And finally, Vee, particularly right at the end of season three.

SHE HAS A BIG MANE OF HAIR TO HIDE HER EARS AND IT LOOKS LIKE AN AXOLOTL’S GILLS! SHE HAS ACTUAL AXOLOTL HAIR AND IT HIDES HER LITTLE EARS! THIS IS THE CUTEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN JUST LOOK AT THIS LITTLE AXOLOTIL GIRL! 200/10!

[lemon-towne]

HOLDEN PREVIEW TIMEEEEUHHH

Okay so I’ve realized that I’ve never given yall anything else abt the Michael book (book? Idk maybe an online fic or smthn) other than the potential covers for it

Needles to say I felt bad and so to make it up to yall I’ll post a small snippet of a part in the actual story so here yall go <3333

(Be nice bookie this is a draft, a really rough one so don’t expect a whole lot.)

TW

___________________________________

“It seems as if you take the things I do for you, MY SON, for granted. Michael I just don’t understand, you’re right; I don’t. But you blatantly refuse to talk to me when you have a problem so how am I supposed to know if something is bothering you?”

She looks at me with a blank expression after that. . .expecting me to answer wrongly. As if I don’t know what I’m talking about.

As if I don’t know how I feel.

“Because you never bother to ask.”

I pause.

“I don’t tell you things because you never even bother to ask. When I do open up to you, you feel the need to tell me I have nothing to be upset over.”

I remain in the same place, just standing there. . .looking down at my mother.

“When I come to you, you lash out on me. You tell me to ‘Just be happy’ to ‘look on the bright side’ or better yet ‘I’ve been on this earth longer than you have, what do you know about the world? You’re still pretty young!’ Well I’m fucking sick of it. .”

The words come out like a flood, it feels like I can’t stop! I want to stop but I can’t, they just keep pouring out of me like river.

Like a damn that was finally broken. First a few drops. . .then a small stream. . .then the rest of the flood.

“You can’t keep telling me to cheer up when there isn’t anything to be happy over anymore ! Fuck man- when was the last time you have asked me ‘How was school today’ ?”

“Don’t you dare get smart with me! Don’t you think I try my best, Michael!?”

She’s screaming now.

“I try my best as a mother to provide you with a home, a bed, clothes to wear, food to eat ! I don’t get a fucking ‘thank you for any of it !”

“Yeah! Mum I think you blatantly forget, that is the bare fucking minimum that you are supposed to do for your child !”

. . . I scream back.

“Thank you for providing the things that I needed as a child ! The shit that I NEEDED, yes ! You could’ve been utterly fucking neglectful but Jesus for you to be emotionally unavailable is just as terrible !”

This was the first time, in a long time that I have seen my mother display such raw emotion. Her face. .i can’t even recognize her face now. It’s all scrunched up and red with anger. It looks as if steam is about to start shooting out of her ears as if she’s some sort of cartoon character.

“All of the sacrifices, all of the time, pain, energy- whatever! I gave up my entire LIFE to raise you as best as I can, your father and I working for hours ! Hardly being home to make sure YOU have a place to rest your head at night ! And you’re right! What the hell do you know about living ? Normally when teenagers complain about wanted to be treated like adults it’s because they ARE being treated as such ! You’re sad ! Okay ! I get it Michael but for fuck sake stop making it everyone else’s problem !”

I had already emotionally disconnected from this conversation. .i start to walk towards the front door, not even looking at Jane anymore.

“Oh where are you going now.”

She says, her voice starting to become quiet

“Out.”

“With whom ?”

“. . .”

“Michael Alex Holden. I know you hear me speaking to you.”

I do. But I don’t say a word. .i don’t say a word as I open the door and I remain silent as I leave the house.

———————————————————————————————————

womp womp hope u like it or wtv

[unfunnyaceartist]

I’m bored, so… more writing. Carnival Jax bc why tf not. Also I’m keeping sweats, because fuck that, I’m too tired to censor them

Somewhat horror at beginning, and Suggestive (I mean it’s carnival Jax so y’all should’ve expected it/hj)

——

God damnit. God damnit. This place is so hard to get around, it doesn’t help that the crazed rabbit has a timer for your demise set in the background, the soft ticking didn’t help with your unease. Just stay alive. Just stay alive— how the hell would you do that when a character with fucking CARTOON PHYSICS is chasing you around??

You had to stop yourself from murmuring this whole time, you wanted to cuss out yourself or just the whole level, but you knew making noise would only, most likely, draw him to you sooner. You were snapped out of your thoughts as you bumped into something in the little hallway you were in, the case on top of the little wooden desk falling to the groin with a crash— why is there a vase in this level?! What would he even use that for?! It was just a noisemaker, that was the entire point of it being there, such as in other games…

You fell along with the vase, almost tripping over the desk itself. Great, great, now you were just on the floor and bleeding-… wait… no. This isn’t your own blood… you didn’t pay much attention to how the floor looked before, to busy trying not to die, in messy letters, his own name, ‘JAX’ had been written all over the floor. Oh god and some of this was blood that isn’t even dry yet, that means he killed someone recently. That is not helpful for your slim hope at survival.

You suddenly see text appear in front of you

‘Y O U G O T C A U G H T !’

It took a moment to process, your body started shaking slightly with fear as you looked back and saw him just standing there. Oh god he looked fucking insane.

“You players are all talk. Bullshit.” Jax scoffed, he hated these humans… selfish. “Hehe… hehehe… HAHAHA!”

He started laughing like a maniac, you could only feel yourself trembling in fear, was he just taunting you? Did he really have that much spite to make your last moments only be full of his mockery? It seemed so.

“ L E T S S E E I F Y O U B L E E D O U T F A S T E R T H A N T H E O T H E R S !”

He held his mallet over his head, you would’ve laughed at how comically large it was, if he wasn’t about to bash your brains out with it. You panicked and just desperately tried to crawl back, it seemed to amuse him “J-Jax! Jax please..!” You pleaded, it was a bit pathetic, in all honesty, but, Jax paused, for another reason, as he watched you shake and plead pathetically.

“…What did you say?”

You slowly uncovered your face, which you had covered out of instinct before, “That’s… T-That’s your name, right…? Jax…?”

Jax usually would’ve killed you, but… he didn’t feel like it now. Someone was saying his name… and they looked pathetic when doing it. It kind made him feel better to see a player of all people, shaking and pleading to him. “..Say it again.”

“Uh- okay… Jax.” You were very confused on what this all meant…

Jax slowly approached you, who was still on the ground and shaking, he knelt down to look you in the eyes, he roughly grabbed you by the hair, “…Hm..” he made a little hum, as if contemplating what to do with you. He gave your hair a soft tug backwards, to which you let out a soft whimper.

Jax’s confused and thinking expression from before, slowly turned into a smirk, oh he knew just what to do. You seemed so.. obedient. Heh, willing to do whatever he said to survive. Maybe he’s okay with you for a bit, definitely in more ways than one. “Oho, I have a fun game in mind that ensures neither of us will forget my name, ever.”

You gulped, not sure if this was positive, or not, you knew it probably wasn’t.

Jax tugged your hair roughly again and pressed a rough kiss to your lips, you immediately went red, you didn’t expect that. You can’t help the soft flustered noise that escaped you. He pinned you down against the ground, him above you, and you were under him… all defenseless. You felt his free hand softly grip your thigh.

After what felt like forever, Jax finally ended the kiss, you were a bit of a trembling mess, with how sudden and passionate this all was “W..What was that f-“

“Sshhh… be a good girl, and you’ll get a treat..~” Jax purred softly, his hot breath ticking the back of your neck. Oh god he was terrifying, but also hot, fucking not, and you were overwhelmed with the fact that he kissed you too, oh god he kissed you. He called you a good girl… a good girl. Oh even if you wanted to escape right now, you couldn’t deny that being called a good girl made you a little more hot under the collar.

Jax nuzzled his face into your neck, you were about to question it internally, until you felt a deep bite, “J-Jax~!” you gasped, oh good, fuck… fuck that was hit. Did he just bite you? Oh god…

“Mmh, thought so..” he purred to himself, oh he sure was right, you’d definitely scream for him tonight.

Jax roughly licked the blood from the deep mark he made, he purred seductively, “You’re never going to forget my name when I’m done with you…~”

Your body trembled in his grasp, oh the anticipating and what he’d already done, was killing you. Yay by looking at his face, you could tell he wanted much more than just to kiss and bite you to make you say his name, your face flushed at the though, she tried a bit to wriggle out from under his grasp, he pinned you down into the ground rougher, his insane personality was still there as he teased, “Aw, my little human doesn’t know how to behave themselves. I need to teach you some manners, toy… I’ll make you a good girl for master~”

“A very good… obedient girl for me…~” he growled lustfully, his free hand already exploring your body, and oh you wanted to let him, you wanted to just sit there and say his name all day.. unknown to you, you’ll be screaming it for the rest of the day, instead~

——

I love sleep writing, so it all the time lol

A- VSMJ<WEK<TU$JE

[berrypass-de-murdler]

1. Murder in Hollywood

It's the show version my good murdlers.

First thing to make clear, is there a design for every character no, but WILL there be a design for every character, planning on it yes, so uh... Dame Obsidian will be here eventually rip. Check the first post for designed characters ofc

BUT FOR THIS EPISODE...

DEDUCTIVE LOGICO - he's a magnifying glass and the logo... obviously lmao. Follows his in-book physical description to a 0, my deepest apologies, when I made this smol man I couldn't imagine him to be 6 feet tall, as such, the heights of the characters will be (sometimes very) off. Such as Logico being 3'4". Anyway, cartoon Logico is British, has an extreme Napoleon complex, and a humorously high-pitched voice for his angy personality. In this version he was originally just an actor who played a detective in the Midnight movies, until he naturally ends up in the face of real murder, day after day after day after

THE AMAZING AUREOLIN - my very first design, I was so stupidly proud of her original sketch that I turned it into... this entire project. I LOVE MY RABBIT DAUGHTER AND NO ONE CAN LAY A HAND ON HER - she made me get invested in the storyline after being framed and shit. ANYWAY, unlike most of the Murdlers who just kind of resemble animals, Auree is... just a rabbit. She is also British because because, and in this storyline, she was suspected of murdering her husband after he left her for making too little income. Now she has to raise her Marshmallow Peep-looking triplets on her own, with a target on her back at all times... I love her sm

MIDNIGHT III - For the least creative design there is probably, and the only non-anthro character, have this man whose design is so boring, he doesn't even get an official artwork, I just scribbled him in two seconds. A tiny blob of smoke even smaller than Logico, he sounds more or less exactly like Red Guy from Don't Hug Me I'm Scared and is... that. He doesn't even have eyes underneath his shades!! In this storyline, Midnight is Logico's boss from the beginning, and convinces him to take up real-life detective work.

Dame Obsidian is planned to unsurprisingly be a golem-type creature

DON'T READ THE EPISODES UNTIL YOU'VE FINISHED THE FIRST BOOK!!!

But anyway, the summary/dialogue:

Logico drinks his coffee somehow, despite not having a mouth, so he kind of just pours it down his coat, like... eh???

LOGICO: MY!!! That is simply the PERFECT temperature.

He watches a screening of one of his detective films and squeals like a little girl. Midnight III, his boss, greets him with news.

MIDNIGHT: You need to stop doing it in the film. You need to do it for real.

Logico doesn’t want to.

LOGICO: I don’t give a shit about a murder!

Midnight has a plan.

MIDNIGHT: Fine. Just come to the high-end Hollywood party we’ve invited you to, with all the best directors, and Dame Obsidian.

LOGICO: KI-KA-KU-FE-JET WHAAAAT? I ADORE Obsidian’s work!! I MUST GO, I MUST GO, I MUST GO!!! [jumps around like an idiot]

MIDNIGHT: Good. See you there.

He goes to the party. Midnight is there and The Amazing Aureolin is doing tricks. Logico meets his idol Obsidian.

OBSIDIAN: YES, YES, VERY EXCITING I’M A BUSY WOMAN.

LOGICO: Oh… my dear heart!

Anyway, one of the directors drops dead in a bathtub - inappropriate!! Logico REALLY doesn’t want to have to do this but his inner workings are tingling and he has to know who does it. 

MIDNIGHT: Look at my pipe, it’s nice isn’t it. LOGICO: No one cares, Midnight, this is a crime scene! OH… YOU’RE ONE OF THE SUSPECTS!!  MIDNIGHT: Hurray.

Logico digs Obsidian out of the seats. Aureolin acts extra sus and fights audibly with her.

AUREOLIN: I trusted you! I trusted you and your fork, you dumb… fork!  OBSIDIAN: THIS WOMAN IS ACCUSING ME OF MURDERRR 

Logi gets a call from a voice blabbing about how ironic it was that Obsidian had a fork… and ate with it. 

LOGICO: Oh, hahaha, eating, with a for- WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU??

In the end, Logico places the blame with his answer. 

OBSIDIAN: OOH, SHOCKER, IT WAS THE LITTLE ONE. AUREOLIN: …Obsidian!... 

Auree fights for her claim.

AUREOLIN: I thought you said you were a detective! You have no proof of what you’re saying! LOGICO: My proof is plenty - the other two suspects did not do it!  AUREOLIN: Who do you think you are?? MIDNIGHT: She’s fighting it, she’s clearly guiltyyy

Guards grab Auree and drag her away.

AUREOLIN: No cell can hold me! You know what you did! I’ll have you a- MIDNIGHT: Shut uuuupppp LOGICO: I suppose… I kind of did give a LITTLE shit about a murder. MIDNIGHT: Good. That’s your new job. LOGICO: MY NEW JOB?!?!?

THE END-

Episodes are formulaic bc book format, so some will be shorter than others when nothing much happens, but hey, time for short king to solve a hundred murders!!

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See ya next time murdlers!!

[showtoonzfan]

As we’ve all been waiting for Hazbin to release, I think I’m honestly done with saying “I hope Hazbin will this— I hope Hazbin will that”- because not only is it tiring to say over and over again, but at this point, I realize that most of what I expect from the show are WAAAY too high, especially for Viv’s writing chops. There’s also the visual animation aspect part, like I had hoped the characters would actually pop out from the backgrounds instead of melting right in, but knowing that the main six characters all have fucking red in them, all I can say now is that I hope the composition and backgrounds can help set the scene of where we’re supposed to look and whatnot ect, since that was another area the pilot struggled from. Other than that however, when it comes to begging about what I think the writing and storytelling SHOULD be, I’m going to just stop saying “I hope” because I know it ain’t ganna happen.

There were so many things I wanted the show to improve on when you actually look at the pilot without nostalgia goggles or rose tinted glasses of being a Viv fan years before. You can tell the problems with her when you watch it. She’s too ambitious, she wants to introduce SO many characters and so many ideas to the point where it’s overwhelming, she moves WAY too fast, the pacing in the pilot is some of the worst pacing I’ve ever seen, you can barley take anything in or let anything linger, hence why the second act is clearly better paced while the first act is just pure agony with too many sound effects and fast moving animation. Then there’s my biggest problem, the fact that Viv lacks subtly, she has a shitload of “This is HELL” signs waving in our faces to show the audience that this is in fact Hell despite not looking like it, she has a gay drug addict character who’s named after the fucking drug that he’s addicted to, a “scary” powerful overlord demon that needed an exposition dumb about how powerful and not trustworthy he is despite the fact that you could have just let the audience pick that up by theirselves, like…Viv really likes bonking us on the head with facts and making EVERYTHING so damn obvious without letting us think for ourselves and it’s aggravating, especially since we now know that Heaven is so obliviously evilly corrupt and strict. I get that Hazbin is a cartoon but that doesn’t mean you should treat your audience as if this is a kids show. Hell, KIDS shows have done better at these things.

But with all that said I’m not expecting Hazbin to be good. I know now what to expect out of Viv at this point and the show is definitely ganna be a trainwreck with PAINFULLY unfunny writing, biased viewpoints, too many characters ect. I’ve already seen the dialogue leaks that were clearly written by Viv and my standards for the show are low. I don’t really have hope anymore unless Viv got help with other writers OTHER than Adam, but I know even if she did the show is ganna have her finger prints all over it. What I’m expecting is for it to be bad but POSSIBLY better compared to Helluva, that isn’t a high bar though. Still, I know it’s going to get praise, like…we’re ALL expecting fans to treat it like a groundbreaking magnum opus yada yada, and it’s definitely going to get good reviews from critics. Even though I know Hazbin won’t be great, I’m still of course going to watch, so I can’t wait.

[zeltqz]

Any writing icks I should stay away from?

These r just my personal icks that make me click off the fic if I see them.

1) anything to do with blushing. No I’m not going to go bright red because someone kissed me. Just picturing my face as bright red makes me mad cuz I’ve got brown skin and it’s just no. It makes me cringe.

Other things you can say instead is “heat rushed to your cheeks” because that makes more sense. Everyone does that when they’re flustered. You may not physically see it because of your skin tone but it happens. Instead of describing it as red just describe the feeling instead. It makes it better to read and feel the emotions instead of just saying it

2) if it’s an x reader PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD don’t describe the reader. It makes me so angry because it’s supposed to for the READER. ME. US. WHOEVER READING but they describe YN as some short blonde.

Firstly I’m 5’10 so where? Secondly not a single blond strand on my head. So where’s the inclusivity?

If you want to write a fanfic with a blonde 4’11 reader you go do that. Nobody will care. But label it correctly. It’s an OC. not an x reader.

The amount of times I’ve read a fic of an x reader but they describe the characters weight and eye colour like bro stop that. Just label it oc and go

3) when people say anything but cock and dick in their smut. What the fuck is a wand.

Yes I’ve seen people say wand or staff like this is Harry Potter on Wattpad. Just stick to the general terms PLEASE.

4) generic smutty sentences like “ur tongues tangled together” I used to rinse this statement but now it just makes me cringe because why are tongues tangling? This ain’t a slip knot.

I have a vivid imagination so when I see stuff like that I picture a cartoon tongue tangled in a knot and I just can’t finish the story anymore cuz I’m cringing

Like this

AND “TONGUES FOUGHT FOR DOMINANCE” is another one that makes me cringe because why am I now picturing tongues sword fighting in someone’s mouth?

This isn’t a world war 3 there is no need for all that

Also shit like “she tasted like strawberries” (yes I’ve seen ppl say that). If your pum pum tastes like strawberries that is not normal and you most definitely are on the verge of an infection.

Like I said before, I have a vivid imagination so when I see statements like these they make me picture other things and I get turned off or grossed out

That’s all I have for now. Once again this is all my opinion lmao and I don’t hate anyone that does any of these things I just likely will not read fics with that stuff

Don’t take anything personally 🧘🏾‍♀️

[dr-lizortecho]

ooooo okay very VERY intrigued by "Witches of Oasis", "Max and Iz meditating", and "Passion, Adventure, and even a little Danger"

Witches of Oasis: okay, so another RNM Vampire Diaries crossover, in which Tyler, Jeremy, and Bonnie are locating information on a particular witch coven except said witch coven is actually some of the oldest documented materials on Oatian’s

“Have I mentioned how freakin’ weird this is?” He grumbles while cutting the engine.

Bonnie grunts, not even looking up from the grimoire she’s been practically memorizing since they left Nevada. Her curls have come undone from her top knot and started to settle around her face, lips pursed and brows furrowed as she tries to decode whatever blurb she’d found on this Oasis they’re seeking. The witches there were supposed to hold the answers to the strange artifact they’d discovered.

“I guess I’m in charge of rooms?” Tyler asks, catching Jeremy’s eyes in the rear view mirror.

The other guy looks way immediately, their new found tension annoying at best. “I’ve got to call Elena,” Jer mumbles.

Tyler rolls his eyes and gets out of the vehicle, all too ready to take a long hot shower and pretend like he was back in Virginia. The giant cartoon alien pointing at the vacancy sign catches his attention.

“Great,” he sighs exasperatedly, “fucking dandy.”

Max and Is meditating: answered here <3

Passion, Adventure, and even a little Danger: so TVD and RNM are sadly my fav shows (as of now) so of course the RNM characters should live out the others story (and Liz as a vampire with baggage???)

“I do know why you’re here,” Liz’s voice is a drawl, her red lips drawn in a lopsided smirk. Everything about her body language is relaxed, even with the tense atmosphere.

Rosa sets her teeth on edge, fangs feeling uncomfortably tight. Her body instinctively knowing she was sharing space with a predator, a woman -or rather creature- who would willingly rip her throat out. If not for the pesky pact made between them. One Liz made sure was never forgotten, no matter how many bodies she stacked up outside Rosa’s doors.

“This is home,” Rosa says, not glancing up from her sketchbook. As if not giving Liz the attention she obviously craved could somehow stifle her want to be in Roswell.

“Max,” she says with an annoying lilt. “Maybe I should take him for a spin too. See what’s got you wrapped around his finger.”

ask about a wip <3

[weedle-testaburger]

Nice. Well I’m glad you’re doing okay anyway. I’ve been continuing with my amendments. Again. Also, With regards to those numbered asks I have a few. Numbers 1, 8, 9,14,19, and 23 respectively. Again I’m just curious.

Sure thing! I'm gonna mix and match with fandoms here I think if that's alright.

What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get? I generally don't get ships where the characters have a very toxic and abrasive relationship (e.g. the Doctor and the Master, Lister and Rimmer in Red Dwarf, Kyle or Wendy and Cartman in SP, Lapis and Jasper in SU, Simon and Grace in Infinity Train or Deku and Bakugou in BNHA). I don't think shipping them necessarily romanticises abuse or anything, but I would never want a relationship where I have to second-guess if the person I'm with actively wants to hurt me and I really can't see look past that perspective on those kinds of ships.

8. Have you received anon hate? What about? Nothing fandom-related beyond 'you're stupid for liking kid's cartoons/Problematic media' kind of stuff from people outside a fandom, at least that I remember. The closest I think I've gotten was when people have occasionally gotten mad at me because they misinterpreted or took too seriously a joke I made in a tim watches post.

9. Most disliked character(s)? Why? With Doctor Who it'd probably be Mel (just on TV though, she's a lot better in the audio dramas), River and Clara; for SP I can't stand the edgy characters who just exist as an excuse for them to make bigoted jokes like Mr Kim or PC Principal; while I do think Jasper from SU is a good character, I think she's really unlikeable and don't get why a lot of the fandom are desperate to see the good side of her (besides that she's buff); in Evangelion I can't stand Mari because she's so seriously underdeveloped and boring compared to the other main characters and yet the writers had her end up with Shinji instead of Kaworu or Asuka; I really hate Chloe, Lila and Gabriel/Shadowmoth in ML; like everyone else I fucking hate Mineta from BNHA; and while I know it's the point of them, I don't like Belos or Boscha from TOH at all.

14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom? I've got a lot of those for a lot of fandoms lol. But I'll just state my opinion for Doctor Who because it's probably the most controversial anyway. I actually don't think the Chibnall era is a lot worse than the Moffat era, the latter had lows just as low almost as often; I think the main reasons it's more hated are that while the Moffat era had characters who he clung to and made exceptionally annoying to me, some people did like them, while the Chibnall era had few characters anyone likes.

19. What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom? Funnily enough, Stranger Things and Star Wars have inherited the one I had with the SU fandom for a long time- people too obsessed with bitching about things they don't like in it to appreciate the elements of the story I find really thematically resonant and interesting. I don't give a shit if you're annoyed about X inconsistency if I can latch onto how a character faces up to their psychological issues, and if you can't, that's your loss mate.

23. Unpopular character you love? I don't think I tend to latch onto unpopular characters so much as obscure ones actually. Among others, I have a big soft spot for Kevin Stoley from SP, Frobisher from Doctor Who, Fluorite from SU, Wrong Hordak from She-Ra, Toast from Bee & Puppycat, Puddle and the King from Summer Camp Island, Hollis from TAZ and the Cat from Infinity Train.

[cyancherub]

bitchcraft!

kaminari denki x reader

PAIRING.  demon!denki x spooky bitch fem!reader

LENGTH.  24.5k words (ao3 link)

GENRE.  nsfw + dc, aged up characters (21+); dark humor, horror, comedy, smut, romance, a little angst, a little hurt/comfort (so basically a fever dream)

PLAYLIST.  here

CONTENT.  dark content: noncon (fantasies, voyeurism), blood + blood play, autassassinophilia (death kink), fear play, gore (slight), pain play, violence, yandere; monsterfucking/teratophilia, begging, breathplay, breeding kink, cumflation, dacryphilia, deepthroating, electrostimulation, facefucking, face sitting, gaping, jealous + possessive behavior, knotting, mating press, oral (m + f receiving), overstimulation, rimming (f receiving), rough sex, sadism + masochism, scent kink, shocking/sparking, size kink, spit kink (slight), solo (m + f), standing 69, stomach bulge, toxic behavior, wall sex; denki has a massive, ribbed monster dick, forked tongue, and a shape-shifting tail he uses to fuck with, he’s also like eight feet tall, tagging knife play b/c denki’s tail has a barbed end

SYNOPSIS.  lonely, unsatisfied with your sex life, and fed up with the world in general, you decide to summon a demon from one of your old grimoires. he turns out to be nothing like what you expected.

AUTHOR’S NOTE.  this is a piece written in conjunction with my brilliant, beautiful, amazing co-author allie (@/tomurasurinal) who has the biggest brain with the best ideas ever

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING ADULT CONTENT AND THE DARK CONTENT STATED IN THE WARNINGS.

STEP 1: THE CIRCLE.

“I can’t keep looking Freddy Kreuger in the eye like this, y/n.”

You’re straddling your medium-ugly hookup topless — tits out and everything. Much to your chagrin, he’s forgoing the view in favor of glancing nervously over at the Freddy Kreuger cutout in the far corner of your room.

“What, can’t he watch? He won’t bite, you know.” You pause thoughtfully for a second, then add, “But Betty might.”

“Betty?”

“My pet tarantula. Her enclosure is right over there next to him. See?”

Your hookup frowns, clearly disgruntled. “I seriously can’t stay hard like this,” he says. “You know, I thought I was into this whole ‘Wednesday Addams’ getup of yours, but it’s starting to get kind of creepy, y/n.”

You roll your eyes and let out an exasperated groan, before maneuvering your body off his and plopping onto the black velvet sheets next to him. As he pulls his pants up, you grab a cigarette off the nightstand next to your bed.

“Is that made of bone?” comes his grating, suspicious voice. His pants are up now, and he’s looking distastefully at the rickety little table where you store your cigarettes.

“Yup,” you say, blowing smoke out into his face. “Human bone, actually.”

He scowls. “Where the hell did you even get that? Is that even legal?”

“It’s actually the bones of the last guy who couldn’t make me cum,” you grin. “You’re next.”

“Man, I hate you witchy bitches,” your hookup says, rising quickly out of your bed. He watches you suspiciously as he snatches his shirt off the bed, as if at any moment you might bite him.

“You and everyone else,” you shrug.

“I’m out of here,” he says abruptly, pulling his shirt on backwards.

“Mm,” you reply, tapping ash into the cartoon devil ashtray on your night stand. You spare him one last glance as he scuttles toward your bedroom door.

“What?” you demand irritably, scowling at his frightened face.

“You’re not gonna, like, curse me or something like that, right?”

You smile. “No promises.”

♱♱♱

Once he’s long gone and you’ve smoked your cigarette all the way down to the butt, you flick its remains onto the ashtray and pick up your phone. The little red icon of your dating app glares back at you from your home screen. It’s practically taunting you. If it had a voice, it would be saying, No luck again, y/n? Better hope your vibrator still has some charge left.

This is the fourth time this has happened in the space of a couple weeks. So you swipe your finger over the infuriating red icon and banish it from your phone forever.

If only that would solve all of your problems. Realistically, you know it won’t change the fact that you’re completely and utterly alone. It’s not just the random hookups who you scare off. It’s the casual acquaintances that you invite over in hopes of making friends, too. Every time you think you find someone who’ll accept you for you, they see who you really are — all of this dark memorabilia in your room that sums up the person that is you — and make a break for it.

Every single time.

What’s so wrong with your room? You find all of this stuff fascinating. Comforting, even. Sure, the taxidermy rats on your bookshelf might be a little off putting to some. But you find them cute. And maybe the self-timer Polaroid photos you took of yourself pretending to be a corpse might be in bad taste, but you think you look pretty good in them. And come on — the giant Rosemary’s Baby tapestry on your wall? It’s a classic.

Maybe some might call your room a pit of the occult, but can’t a person have interests without being ostracized from society?

You sigh, looking around. Truthfully, the only real fault you find in your room is how messy it is. Admittedly, you’ve sort of let things go to shit in the past few weeks. You’ve been in a bit of a funk, especially with all of these failed hookups. Maybe if you tidy up a bit, you’ll feel a little better.

You start with the floor first, and once you can walk without tripping over a massive pile of clothes, you realize that you are starting to feel a bit better. So you’ll tackle your closet next.

♱♱♱

As you’re struggling to shove your favorite pair of Demonias into the dark depths of your overflowing closet, you accidentally bump something off of the top shelf. The thing — a thin wooden board — comes crashing down onto you. You catch it right before it hits the floor.

The planchette rolls off of it and drops by your foot. Your eyes widen in recognition at the item in your hand. It’s your old Ouija board.

It’s been years since you’ve messed with this thing.

You were a novice the first time you did, trying to summon a demon with a Ouija board. Of course, that didn’t work, and you’d just ended up having a conversation with an irritable ghost.

“So how do I summon a demon, then?” you’d demanded.

“Y-O-U-G-O-D-D-A-M-N-E-D-I-D-I-O-T,” the ghost had spelled out with the planchette. “G-O-O-G-L-E.”

“Fine,” you’d replied.

“O-P-E-N-A-D-A-M-N-B-O-O-K-B-A-B-Y-W-I-T-C-H,” it had continued. “L-E-T-M-E-R-E-S-T.”

“Sheesh,” you’d muttered under your breath, breaking the connection. “I get it.”

And that was that. Not long after, you’d done in-depth research on summoning, figured out the ins and outs of summoning rituals, and started small.

And ended small, if you’re honest. You’d only ever summoned tiny, mischievous demons who barely had any sentience and only lived for causing trouble. They were cute, but they became tiresome after a while. You’d never had the courage to summon anything bigger. Anything more intelligent. You were apprehensive. Afraid. Because that’s where you can get into trouble.

But that was a long time ago, and you’ve learned much more about the occult since then.

Thinking back, there was one demon in particular that you’d always wanted to contact. Call it a childhood crush. What was its name…?

You toss the Ouija board and the planchette onto your bed and crouch by your bookshelf. There are heaps and heaps of antiquated, dusty books stacked on the shelves and around them. It takes a while to find what you’re looking for: a weathered, beaten old tome with a dark red leather cover. You’d bought it years and years ago, in a dusty little secondhand shop far off the beaten path.

If you’re remembering correctly, you should have a specific page bookmarked in here…

You flip through the yellowing paper, inhaling the familiar mildewy scent of a long stowed-away volume, until you find the corner you’d folded over all those years ago.

There he is, in all his terrifying glory. When you were younger, you’d stared at this page for hours on end, studying that horrifying sketch. For some inexplicable reason, you had always found the horror of him irresistible.

You run your fingers lightly over the sketch of him, peering at it closely. The tall ibex horns protruding from his head. Blacked out eyes. Dark gray skin, mottled with glowing markings that resemble lightning. Maybe you should be scared, but you find everything about him oddly enticing. You always have.

Kaminari Denki, the page reads. The information is in Latin; luckily, you have a fairly good grasp of it. Storm demon, it says. Controls: lightning, thunder, small area storms. Qualities: mischievous, playful, lustful. Temperament: docile. Note: proceed with caution, as not much is documented about this demon. Offerings: storm vestiges, sexual memorabilia.

You glance around your room apprehensively. You can’t imagine that he wouldn’t like a place like this. And what better time to summon him than now, when everything’s nice and tidy? (Well, aside from your closet — but you can just close the closet door and pretend the mess isn’t there. You’ll just hope that he doesn’t try to pull a classic move and hide in there to try and spook you. He’d be in for a nasty surprise.)

What do you really have to lose? You’re all alone in the world, anyway.

So you decide to take a chance.

You shuffle around for the necessary ingredients in your long-abandoned summoning cabinet, sending dust motes flying through the air. You must have prepared for this moment all those years ago; you can’t even remember prepping it, but there’s the key ingredient: a small, dusty glass bottle sealed with twine and yellow wax, labeled thunderstorm rainwater. You grab that, along with several black candles and a paint marker.

And now you can really get down to business. So you peel back your old, tattered rug, exposing the rotting wood beneath. You draw a pentacle on the floor with your paint marker, setting black candles at each of the five points: one for earth, fire, wind, water, and spirit.

It’s easy for you to memorize his sigil; you’d stared at it for so long in your youth that it burns into your mind quickly. You close your eyes, draw it in the middle of the pentacle exactly as it appears in your mind.

You place a little bowl on top of the sigil, and then put the bottled rainwater in the bowl. On top of that goes the sexual memorabilia the ingredients called for. You’ve decided to use a vintage porn mag, because who isn’t into that? You stare at its lewd cover for a second, thinking. Then, for good measure, you lift up your skirt and shimmy your pretty lace panties down your thighs, throwing them into the bowl along with everything else. For the finishing touch, you swipe your thumb over a dagger and squeeze a couple drops of blood onto the offerings.

And then comes the incantation, which you recite in a confident, clear voice:

“Lord Satan, grant me the power to execute what I desire to do, the end I would attain thy help. I entreat thee to inspire your servant, the demon Kaminari, to manifest before me, so that he may grant me the companionship I seek. This I respectfully and humbly ask in your name, Lord Satan, may you deem me worthy.”

You stand in place for a silent moment, just waiting for something to happen. Anything, really. You’re desperate for it. You don’t know how this works with demons of this caliber, exactly. What should you be looking for? How will he appear? Will the ground split in half? Will he rise from a fiery chasm in the floor?

You suppose it doesn’t really matter, because nothing happens. It’s just you, alone, like always.

You don’t know what you did wrong. Was it the cantation? Did he not like your offering? You could’ve sworn you’d done everything right. You’re cautious and precise when it comes to these kinds of things, and you’d studied the instructions very closely before you’d taken action.

A crack of thunder rips through the air, setting the hairs on your body on end. You look outside of your window and watch as the crows depart the gnarled old tree outside your window, cawing loudly. Clouds roll overhead, darkening your room in dusky blue gloom. A sudden draft rolls through your house, even though none of your windows are open.

The temperature drops; you shiver. Could it be that…?

The radio on your dresser blares on suddenly, and static fills the air. Another peal of thunder splits the air outside, and this one is much louder. Much closer. Lightning strikes somewhere close, illuminating your room in whitish-blue for a fraction of a second.

The radio starts to flip stations on its own; bits and pieces from each station come together in a jumble of phrases.

“… sudden lightning storm seems to have formed, with no warning or…”

“… yeah, wow…”

“… very nice pan…”

“… tease …”

“… lace? That’s a woman’s favorite fabric, Johnny, I’m serious…”

“Nice panties? You really liked them?” you say out loud, with your eyes darting frantically around your room.

A loud boom of thunder sounds right overhead. You practically jump out of your skin, feeling the floorboards shake violently underfoot. The old house groans, settling, as if it’s been awakened from a long, long slumber. Your hair is standing on end now, and there are goosebumps rising along your skin.

The radio is still going, still flipping through stations; it pauses on them momentarily, sometimes even settling for a few seconds on static.

“… they all told her to run away, while she still could …” comes a deep voice through the radio, right before bursting into an inhuman-sounding laugh.

The radio cuts off suddenly, and an inexplicable, frigid gust of air blows through the closed-up house. All of the candles in the summoning circle go out; the bedroom light overhead flickers once, twice, then burns out.

Other than the gloomy twilight filtering in through your window, the only source of light inside your room is the TV across from your bed. You watch it flip through channels of its own accord, listening to the house creaking and groaning in the storm. A strange, unpleasant smell fills the air: rotten eggs, you think, scrunching your nose up.

The TV finally settles on a channel playing grainy footage of an old horror movie. A woman in a nightgown rummages frantically through a kitchen drawer for a knife, comes back wielding it in a shaky, frail hand. The volume on the TV increases to the maximum; the woman’s creaking footsteps echo off of the walls in your room. You watch her face transform as she sees someone — or something — horrible off-screen.

Her mouth drops open, and a loud, blood curdling shriek cuts through the air in your room. You wince, bringing your hands to your ears to block out the noise. A black-clad figure rushes at the woman, right before the TV power dies.

You’re left frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at the black mirror of your TV screen. In its vague, dark reflection you can see yourself standing in the middle of your room. And that’s fine — that’s normal.

But something is awry in that dark reflection. There’s something that doesn’t belong.

Because there’s something standing behind you, in the very corner of your room, shrouded in shadow.

You can’t bring yourself to turn around. You’re glued to the floor, trembling, facing the reflection in the TV. Staring at that thing.

The tall, horned figure skulking in the corner of your room is grinning. You can see that, because its eyes and mouth are somehow illuminated. Which means you can see its teeth in great detail: the way they’re large, pointed, and carnivorous — made for devouring.

A chill rolls down your spine.

There’s a sudden crack of thunder outside. You jump; involuntarily, your eyes shoot toward your window, leaving the figure behind you to its own devices. Lightning strikes the gnarled old tree right outside your window several times, illuminating the sky around your house. The tree catches fire, and a massive crack resounds as a large branch breaks off, plummeting to the ground. Rain continues to fall, dousing the flames on the tree and its disembodied branch, until only their charred remains are left.

The radio and lights flicker back on suddenly.

“… storm really seems to have just appeared out of nowhere!” the radio announcer shouts, before the station changes.

“… isn’t that odd?” says a deep voice, laughing loudly, before being overtaken by loud classical music that sounds just slightly off-key.

Your heart is pounding in your chest; you look around frantically, just like one of the characters in the horror movies that you love.

But there’s nothing in your room. Nothing standing behind you — no tall, menacing figure occupying that dark corner of your room. No more sulfur smell.

It’s just you and your collection of mysterious items.

“Are you there?” you shout, to no one in particular. You receive no response; your heart drops. He was here. Right behind you, and now he’s gone.

“Wow, so not even the demons want to fuck with me?” you mutter, chewing on your lip. “Maybe I deserve to be alone.”

You sigh defeatedly, listening to the patter of rain outside soften. With your hands on your hips, you look dejectedly down at your summoning circle, then to your window. The bleak darkness outside is apathetic. The night doesn’t care about your grievances. Somewhere nearby, a crow caws in the rain; a heavy cloud passes, revealing the moon behind.

It’s starting to get late. If the summoning ritual really did go wrong somehow, and if there’s no demon coming to keep you company, you might as well resume life as planned. No matter how boring it is.

Tomorrow is Sunday — your designated grocery shopping day — and you want to be up early enough to run your usual errands before the market gets too crowded. Your outfit choices are unconventional (to say the least), and the more people out, the more stares you attract.

So you make quick work of the mess on your floor, do your nightly routine, and settle into bed. You can still hear the storm going outside, and you feel just as gloomy as the weather.

♱♱♱

As you drift off to sleep, lulled into oblivion by the soft sound of rain on pavement, the dark figure materializes in the corner of your room once again.

Once your demon had heard your summons, he’d come up to earth right away. He’s never been one to make a mortal in need wait — especially not one as pretty as you. He’s excitable like that; in fact, as soon as he’d heard the call, his stomach had growled in anticipation. It’s been a while since he’s devoured a human, and he’s absolutely ravenous.

He’d had half a mind to eat you up on the spot; it’s been so long that he didn’t even think he’d have the patience to fuck you first. But as soon as he’d appeared in your room, he’d felt something strange for you. Curiosity.

What kind of human are you, owning all of these strange, cursed objects? A witch?

That must be it. He’s never been summoned by a witch before, and you’ve sparked his interest. He wants to bide his time first; he wants to learn a little more about you before revealing himself. He can tell that you’re not like any human he’s met before.

So, with a lecherous smile twisting up his face, he hovers over you curiously and watches you sleep in the dark. You smell interesting to him. It’s an unfamiliar scent. Not unpleasant, though. Loneliness. And there’s another scent on you, too. It smells a bit like arousal, something his nose is particularly attuned to.

Sexual frustration — that’s the scent lying heavy between your thighs. He grins.

He’s weighing the possibilities in his head. He could wake you up right now and sate all of the sexual tension built up inside of you. But if he did that, he’d probably end up giving into his depraved instincts and kill you immediately afterward. And he doesn’t want to kill you until he figures out more about the curious little being that is you.

So maybe he’ll just drag his time here on earth out. Like a little vacation. He’s not in a rush to leave. After all, it’s been quite a while since he’s been to this realm. Hundreds of years, actually. He’s not a particularly vengeful or powerful demon — at least, not compared to his higher-ups — so it’s not like he gets summoned to do the dirty work for humans often.

He remembers his last stay on earth fondly, even though it was quite short. A group of girls had summoned him at a slumber party for “fun.” (Their word, not his.)

And that night was fun. At least for him. Not so much for them, though. He’d gone on a lustful rampage at their sweet little sleepover, fucked all of them bloody. He’d had a good meal that night, stuffed full of fear, blood, and arousal.

He’d dragged their sweet souls back down to hell with him, and the boss had even given him a promotion for his great work upon his return.

He still wonders why they’d assumed he was fun. It was probably based on some mistaken conception that he was benign. Maybe they had even used the same book you did. The one that called him docile.

(Did you not see the little blood spatters on the corner of the page? That happened the night of the slumber party, actually.)

Sure, he’s docile compared to many of the demons in the ranks of hell. But in human terms, he’s anything but.

He smiles; his wide, inhuman grin hovers just inches away from your face as you sleep fitfully. The smell wafting off of you seems to get more intoxicating by the moment. His mouth is watering with lust. He thinks you look so beautiful laying there; you’re a mortal he’d like to taste more than anything.

It takes all of his willpower to resist the urge to bury his face in your neck and drink up your smell. He knows that if he does, his fangs will come out, and he’ll have no choice but to rip into your skin.

He’s not ready to do that. Not yet. He’s never felt like this before, but he wants to know you first.

STEP 2: THE CALLING FORTH.

You wake up with a sore throat and heavy bones; it takes you much longer than it should to get out of bed. You start your morning off slow and sluggish, struggling to get through your mundane tasks.

You wonder if you have a cold.

You decide to postpone your grocery shopping trip, hoping that you’ll feel better later in the day. So, to pass the time, you settle onto the couch and flip on a creepy movie.

You’re about halfway through the movie when you start to feel… odd. It’s a prickling down your spine. The same kind you get when you’re being watched.

You think that it must be the coffee you made yourself. Maybe you’ve had too much, and it’s making you anxious.

You need water, you think. Yeah. You’ll get some water, and that’ll make you feel better. So you get up off the couch and head to the kitchen, hearing a woman shriek on your TV screen as you do.

You’re in the kitchen, grabbing for a glass in the cabinet, when you swear you feel a hot breath hit your neck. You whirl around, with the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. But there’s nothing behind you.

“Oh,” you chuckle to yourself, turning back around. You laugh, chastising yourself for being so jumpy as you resume what you were doing and grab a glass out of the cabinet.

“BOO!” shouts a raspy voice into your ear.

You shriek and whirl around again; the glass in your hand drops to the floor and shatters.

There’s a man there, standing right in the middle of your kitchen.

“The most alluring maidens are always the least graceful,” he says, grinning down at you widely. He tsks, amused.

You’re awestruck, rendered utterly speechless as you look up at him with wide eyes. He’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before. Like nothing you’ll ever see again. Everything about him is perfect — gorgeous, in the most inhuman way. He leers down at you through curious, catlike eyes. They’re pretty and girlish: the color of citrine, framed by heavy, long eyelashes. His teeth are perfectly white, and his incisors — or should you say fangs? — look sharp enough to rip you to shreds with the slightest pressure. His lips are perfect, too. And so is his skin; it’s plush and pristine, as if it’s never been exposed to the light of day.

“Wow,” he says cheerfully; his grin deepens. “You’re even more enchanting awake. I waited all night to meet you.”

You’re still frozen in place, with your heart hammering against your chest as he inspects you curiously. More enchanting awake? What does that mean? Did he —

“What’s the matter, y/n?” he pouts prettily. “Is it the glass? Look, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

You can’t even string together a coherent thought in your fear-muddled mind, much less ask how he knows your name. So you watch silently as he waves his clawed fingers over the glass on the floor. The shards levitate for a second, glittering under the sterile kitchen light, then fuse together into their original shape. The repaired glass — which is now as good as new — floats lazily toward the counter, settling there with a little tink.

Your mouth is hanging open as you study this thing you summoned. He doesn’t look anything like he did in the sketch — the only familiar things are the horns and the claws. This must be his human form.

You’re looking frantically between his beautiful face, his sharp claws, and the tall horns protruding from his head. He takes a step closer, grinning widely down at you, and it makes your heart race even faster.

Your demon sees your mouth dropping open, sees your eyes flitting back and forth between his claws and his horns. He can hear your heartbeat quickening, smell the fear emanating off of you. It’s delicious to him. Invigorating. But he knows you’re about to scream, and he doesn’t want that.

His form flickers in front of you, then disappears completely. You feel his cold, clawed hand come to rest tightly over your mouth; his hot breath hits your ear.

“Please don’t scream,” he says sweetly, pausing to press his face against your neck and inhale deeply. When he starts talking again, he sounds almost intoxicated. “I’ll uncover your mouth if you promise me you won’t scream. And I’ll answer any questions you have. Deal?”

You nod, acquiescing. His hand leaves your mouth; his form flickers, appearing in front of you once again.

“So?” he asks expectantly, awaiting your question.

“So…” you say, prying your eyes away from his horns to study his outfit. “So why are you dressed like Ichabod Crane?”

“Who?”

“Nevermind,” you say hastily.

“Is there something wrong with my clothes?” he asks, frowning.

“They’re a little outdated.”

“Outdated?” he asks, looking downward to study his outfit with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve got the whole dusty Victorian man look going,” you shrug. “It wouldn’t hurt to update your wardrobe a bit.”

“What do you mean, dusty?” He pouts. “It’s peak fashion.”

“Sure, maybe for the 1800s,” you mutter.

“What year is it?” he asks, scratching his head with his claws.

“2021.”

“Oh,” he says. “I guess it has been a while.”

“Kinda,” you say, pulling out your phone. “Here, let me show you what peak fashion looks like now. You can’t go out looking like that.”

He studies you curiously. You get more and more curious to him as time goes on; what kind of human even are you, to have the audacity to insult his clothes? “I could rip your throat out,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“Okay, well could you at least change your outfit first? I don’t want to be killed by someone wearing that. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “What’s today’s fashion?”

“Let me show you,” you say, whipping out your phone. He studies the device curiously.

You go straight to your Pinterest account, clicking to your men’s fashion board. You choose the best outfit on the board — a black shirt, black pants, Doc Martens, and a calf-length black trench coat.

“I see,” he says, looking at the screen suspiciously. “Like this?”

When you look back up at him, you’re shocked to see that he’s already poofed into the exact outfit you’d shown him a second ago.

“How do I look?” he asks curiously.

“Hot.”

“Hot?” he asks, his gold eyes glinting curiously. “I feel fine. I can take the jacket off, though.”

“No,” you sigh. “Hot meaning handsome.”

“Oh,” he says, eyeing you out blatantly. “You’re quite a handsome woman yourself.”

You burst into laughter.

“What?” he pouts, pushing his lower lip out. “It’s true.”

“They don’t call women ‘handsome’ anymore.”

“Oh,” he says. “You’re ‘hot,’ then.”

“Thanks,” you grin. “And now you look good enough to go out with.”

“Where are we going?” he asks curiously.

“Grocery shopping.”

“Grocery shopping?”

“Yeah. Like, for food. To eat.”

“Oh. You mean the market? Do we need a carriage?”

You snort.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you grin.

“Laugh at me again and I’ll kill you,” he says frankly.

You do laugh at him again, and he doesn’t kill you. But he does give you a very disgruntled look, wondering where exactly all of that audacity came from.

♱♱♱

It’s a crowded day on the street. You’re taking the opportunity to chat up your demon as the two of you walk. Kaminari. His vocabulary is slightly outdated, and he has a slight accent. But he’s a lot easier to talk to than you’d thought. He’s charming. Funny, in a way you wouldn’t expect a demon to be. You discover that his last visit to earth had been some time in the 1960s. Apparently, he’d been summoned to some kind of sleepover at an all-girls Catholic school.

“So, none of the girls commented on your outfit?”

“No,” he grins. “They didn’t have time to. I ate them all as soon as I arrived.”

“Interesting,” you say pensively. “Did you do anything fun after?”

He studies you out of the corner of his feline eye. Interesting? Fun? Did you not hear what he just said — that he’d eaten all of those girls?

“I took a tour around earth,” he says. “It was very short. I just wanted to see how things were before I brought their souls back down with me.”

“And how were things?”

He shrugs. “They were fine. Lots of food around. But I guess there’s no place like home.”

By food, he means people.

“Yeah,” you say woefully. “Hell must be an interesting place. I’d love to go sometime.”

He cocks an eyebrow. You’re such a curious little creature to him; he’s never met a human quite like you. You’re very odd — very bold — for a mortal. Most humans would be scared out of their wits around him, but you’re walking along brightly, with a pep in your step. He smiles.

He’d like to learn more about you. Much more. He’s very drawn to you; he’s fascinated by your behavior. Like a cat watching a mouse before killing it.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

There’s a little storm cloud hovering overhead, following the two of you around town like a pet. It creates a little circle of rain just surrounding the two of you; the rain doesn’t fall on you.

You side-eye Kaminari as you walk, taking in his handsome profile, watching him study the city and the people around intently.

It’s only when you’re about halfway to the grocery store that you start to notice the odd looks you’re getting. Strangers are casting you glances of confusion as you chat with Kaminari. You continue talking to him, pausing only to glare back at the strangers until they look away.

When you look up at his face, he’s grinning.

“What’s so funny?” you demand loudly, drawing alarmed stares from several passers-by.

No one else can see me, his amused voice echoes through your head.

What? Wait, can I talk back? you say. And then, Oh, okay. Cool trick. But why didn’t you tell me about it earlier? People have been looking at me like I’m crazy.

That wouldn’t have been any fun, comes his satisfied retort. And you are crazy. Summoning me and all. Taking me ‘grocery shopping’. Who does that?

Whatever, you respond as the two of you approach the coffee shop. I’m gonna go in and grab us some coffee. Don’t cause any trouble. Or kill anyone. Or eat anyone. Whatever it is that you usually do. Okay?

What makes you think I take orders from dainty mortals like you? he grins down at you.

You roll your eyes, then turn to enter the coffee shop.

Kaminari thinks you’re an insolent little thing. But at the same time, he finds you absolutely intriguing. Cute, even. Usually, his patience for humans runs thin quickly. He finds them tiresome; they’re finicky, easily frightened. Really, they’re nothing more than a meal.

So he wonders why he finds himself enjoying your impudence so much.

As you wait for your coffees, which seem to take forever, you glance nervously through the window to make sure your demon isn’t getting into too much trouble. Right as the barista hands you your drinks, you lose sight of him.

When you walk back outside with your hands full — one steaming cup gripped in each hand — you pause for a second, just looking for him. He flickers in front of you suddenly, and you yelp in response; several people look over, confused.

His cheeks are stuffed with something; there’s a bit of blood on his lip and a feather hanging out of his mouth.

Hey, you chastise in your head. Spit it out right now.

But I’m famished, he whines, gulping down the poor creature in his mouth.

Disgusting, you respond, handing him the coffee. Drink this to wash it down.

The people around you watch as he takes the cup. They’re marveling, no doubt, at the way it must appear to them: just a cup randomly floating in midair. Kaminari lifts it to his blood-covered lips and takes a hot gulp. He coughs, then spits it out; it goes splattering onto an innocent stranger walking by. The woman yelps, and several people stop to watch the spectacle.

“Keep it moving,” you shout irritably at the crowd; the people begin to hurry past. “Nothing to see here.”

“What kind of horrid concoction is that?” he demands. “Poison? Did you make it in a rusty cauldron?”

“What? Cauldron?” you shout out loud. You don’t even care that, to the disconcerted people around you, it looks like you’re having a conversation with the coffee cup hovering in thin air.

“Yes. A cauldron,” he says, furrowing his brow. “You’re a witch, right?”

The inquiry sends a surge of pride through your chest. “I’m so flattered,” you say, blushing.

“You’re the consort of a demon, then?” he inquires nonchalantly, in the same intonation which a guy might ask, So do you have a boyfriend?

“Actually, no,” you say, smiling. “Although I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Why? Did you have someone in mind?”

“I know a demon,” he grins. “You’d probably like him.”

(He’s talking about himself, but you don’t know that. You’re frowning, lamenting the fact that he’d think to set you up with anyone other than himself.)

♱♱♱

The trip to the grocery store — once you finally get there — is interesting. You can hardly focus on your list, because you’re too busy trying to keep an eye on the mischievous demon accompanying you.

One moment, he’s beside you, watching curiously as you inspect the apples. The next, he’s poofing over to the onions, knocking several onto the ground in front of a couple. He laughs heartily when they jump. You snort, suppressing a laugh; he looks over at you, smiling.

“Shouldn’t you be scolding me?” he asks, appearing behind you and leaning over your shoulder as you set an apple into the cart.

Maybe, you respond. But it’s kind of funny.

“I think so too,” he grins. “What about this?”

He flickers away, appearing next to an old woman’s cart. As she’s busy looking at the oranges, he steals one she’s already chosen out of her cart and puts it back in the pile. When she turns around to place a new one in her cart, her eyebrows furrow in confusion. She’s wondering if she must have miscounted.

He keeps repeating the process, placing an orange back on the pile each time she picks a new one, until she wheels her cart away in frustration.

You burst out laughing. He looks up brightly, then flickers back over to you, watching curiously as the corners of your eyes crinkle when you laugh. He feels a strange, unfamiliar sensation bubbling up in his chest, and he can’t quite place it.

All he knows is that he wants to see you laugh again.

♱♱♱

He offers to poof you both back home once you’ve checked out. So, of course, you accept, ending up in your kitchen just a few moments later.

“You’re kinda handy,” you smile. “Maybe I’ll keep you.”

“Maybe I’ll keep you,” he grins wickedly down at you.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” you tease.

“It’s an offer.”

Thunder rolls outside, loud and sudden. You blush and tear your eyes away from his, then start moving around your kitchen to put away groceries. He watches you closely, his inhuman eyes tracking your every movement closely until everything is put away.

“What are you going to do now?” he asks.

“Well it is the holy day of rest,” you joke. “So what do you say we watch something? Maybe get some takeout?”

“Splendid,” he grins, lacing an arm around you. Before you know it, he’s flickering the two of you to the couch.

You put on a comedy for him to watch as you look through your phone for something good to order. As you do this, the storm rages outside, the lights flickering overhead every few seconds. You decide to order a pizza, which should be palatable even for a demon.

He’s watching the TV, intrigued. The comedy that you put on seems to be chronicling the misadventures of a stoner friend group. It’s just a few years old, and it’s full of modern jokes.

“What does ‘hot box’ mean?” he pouts. “Why would a box be hot?”

“Here,” you laugh, holding your phone out to him. “Brush up on today’s lingo. Just type in whatever phrases you hear and it’ll tell you what it means. Go on Urban Dictionary or something.”

“Urban Dictionary?”

“It’s a site with a bunch of lingo. Do you have super demon learning speed?”

“Something like that,” he grins, studying your phone closely. He squints at the keyboard, then attempts to type something in. His claws tap against the screen; he scowls.

“Nice claws,” you say. “Can you wipe your ass with those things?”

“I’ll kill you,” Denki snarls.

“Do it, pussy.”

Denki snorts, looking at the little screen of your phone. He’s thinking about what an odd little device it is. Each time he comes to earth, there’s a new little toy to figure out. Humans always come up with the strangest little things to entertain themselves.

He cocks his head to the side, looking through your open tabs.

“What’s monsterfucking fanfiction?” he asks.

“Give me that,” you snap hurriedly, snatching your phone back and clearing the tab. “Don’t be so nosy.”

“Do you want to fuck a monster?” he grins.

“Shut up.”

“Demons are monsters, right?”

You roll your eyes, gesturing at your phone. “Go back to studying. I’m sick of talking to someone who sounds like George Washington.”

He mutters something, alternating between scrolling through Urban Dictionary and watching the comedy. While he does that, you flip through channels, looking for something creepy.

“I’m done,” he says suddenly.

“Done with what? What do you mean done?”

“Urban Dictionary. I went through everything.”

“Oh. Did you learn anything good?”

“Uh huh,” he grins. “Felching. Sounds fun.”

“Shut up,” you blush. “Go through the internet now.”

“Okay.”

While he’s scrubbing the internet, your doorbell rings. It must be the pizza man. You look over at Denki, to find that he’s still looking intently down at the screen.

You walk over to the door and open it, coming face to face with a handsome guy holding a pizza up with a bright smile. “Hi,” he says. “One cheese pizza.”

“That’s me,” you say, rummaging for a bill in your wallet.

“Perfect,” the pizza guy says brightly.

You jump when you see Denki’s face leaning over your shoulder, scowling at the pizza man suspiciously, who has no idea he’s there.

“Who’s this dolt?” Denki says.

Dolt? you respond in your head. Did you learn nothing from the internet? Who even says that nowadays?

“Sorry,” Denki mutters. “Who’s this douchebag?”

It’s just the pizza man, you respond in your head, shoving a crumpled bill toward the guy and muttering for him to keep the change. Don’t get your panties in a twist.

The pizza man thanks you, handing the pizza over.

“Thanks,” you say cheerfully.

“No prob —” the pizza guy starts.

“I’ll twist my panties if I want to,” Denki scowls, grabbing the door and slamming it hard in the pizza man’s face, before stalking back to the couch to plop down and pout.

“What’s your problem?” you ask, bringing the pizza to the couch. An inhuman, jealous scowl is twisting up his face. For whatever sick reason, that possessive expression is sparking a growing heat between your thighs. You’re trying to ignore it.

“Nothing,” he mutters flatly.

He’s unsure what that was just then. Usually, he has the urge to kill humans for fun or because he’s hungry. But he’d almost killed that guy just for looking at you in a way he didn’t like.

“Whatever,” you shrug, plopping onto the couch and handing him a slice.

He accepts it, takes a bite, and frowns. “This is what you guys eat?”

“Yeah,” you say, offended. “You don’t like it? Best pizza in town.”

“It’s totally disgusting.”

“What? I can’t believe you just said that. What the hell do you even eat, then?” you demand.

“I feed off of fear and blood,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” you say. “That’s cool. More pizza for me, then.”

“I’m hungry,” he grumbles, placing his slice back on top of the box. You finish your slice and start on his.

“Sorry, they didn’t have any blood on the pizza place menu,” you say, with your mouth full. “I definitely would’ve ordered you some if they did.”

He sighs in disappointment; you continue to scroll through the channels on TV, looking for something good to watch. You decide to put on The Exorcist. You finish your slice of pizza, dust your hands off over the box, and settle back into the couch, with your arm pressing against his.

He looks down at you with a curious glint in his eye, and then the film starts.

♱♱♱

“This is corny as fuck,” Denki laughs, when you’re halfway through the movie. “I know this dude. He acts nothing like that.”

“Is he worse?”

“Oh, waaaay worse,” he says.

“Nice,” you yawn.

♱♱♱

You end up passing out not too long after that, and when you wake up, your head is resting on his shoulder. It’s odd; he’s completely still — no pulse, no breathing. He’s just sitting there stiffly, like a corpse, careful not to wake you.

“I’m sorry,” you yawn, sitting up and looking at him blearily.

“It’s alright,” he says. “I was just scrolling through the channels. The movie ended. Terrible film, by the way.”

“I love that movie,” you pout, looking at the TV screen to find that he’s watching Grease. For some reason, you’re not surprised.

“Grease, huh?” you ask.

“I like this movie,” he grins. “Reminds me of when I was here in the 60s.”

You’re watching Sandy and Danny dance. It gets you thinking.

“Hey,” you ask, looking up and over at him. “Have you… have you ever been in love?”

“No,” he says thoughtfully. “I don’t know if I can. But if I can, I’d like to experience it some day.”

You miss the way he looks at you. He wonders at the strange feeling bubbling in his chest. It’s very unfamiliar. Very new. He watches you yawn fondly.

“I should probably go knock out now,” you say sleepily.

“Oh, okay,” he says. Maybe you’re just imagining it, but it seems like his face falls.

“What’s up?”

“I forgot humans have to sleep through the night,” he shrugs. “I thought we were gonna hang out more. Watch more terrible movies.”

You smile. “Don’t worry,” you say. “You can come to work with me tomorrow. We can spend the day together.”

There’s that odd feeling in his chest again.

“Okay,” he agrees.

“You can stay out here. Watch TV and hang out. Help yourself to any of the, uh, amenities. Sorry I don’t have any blood to offer you. Or fear.”

He shrugs, grinning. “Maybe I’ll just pop up in your room and scare you.”

“That sounds more fun than scary,” you laugh, walking to the linen closet. You rummage for a blanket, unsure if he’ll even need it. Does he get cold? Probably not. You throw it over to him either way.

Fun? he grins, thinking about that tab open on your phone. Monsterfucking. You probably would love it if he appeared in the corner of your room.

His form flickers off the couch suddenly and appears right in front of you. He stares you down, unblinking and curious. You cringe under that gaze, shifting from foot to foot.

He can smell that nervousness building up on your skin. The way your heart starts to race.

“Goodnight,” you say quietly.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

He follows you with his unblinking, animalistic gaze, until you’re disappearing through the door to your room.

He wants you. It’s been building up all day, and now, he can barely even help himself. It’s a hunger that’s overwhelming his need for fear and blood. One that even overwhelms his desire to survive.

He’s never felt this way for anyone. You’re not like anyone he’s ever met, and he wants to make you his in the most primal way possible.

As you close the door to your room behind you, you’re thinking about him. Nothing but him. From the moment you saw him, you wanted him. And he’s right there — so close. Right outside your doorway. You could give yourself up to him right now, let him dig his fangs and his claws into your soft mortal flesh.

You bite your lip. You’re thinking of how his teeth might feel grazing over your neck, how his slender, long fingers might feel caressing your skin.

You could proposition him, you think. But he’d been hungry earlier; he’d told you about his need for blood and fear. And he hasn’t been getting either. So if you did give yourself up to him, it might go further than just sex. It might be dangerous.

Your stomach is starting to knot up. You want him, but you’ll have to make do in some other way for now.

You don’t even bother to lock your door, because you know that there’s no way to keep him out if he really wants in. Then you open the drawer at the bottom of your dresser, looking at all of your toys. You grab your vibrator and then, for good measure, your favorite dildo. It’s huge, thick, ribbed and ridged in all the right places.

The pit of your stomach is twisting up as you imagine playing with him instead of the toys.

Denki’s nose is twitching from his spot on the couch. He turns his head in the direction of your bedroom door and takes a deep breath. His sense of smell is attuned to arousal; he can smell it flowering outward from between your legs. It’s sweet in the air — intoxicating to him, even through your closed door. His fangs are starting to elongate.

As you slip into your cool sheets, you’re thinking of him. His hand over your mouth, his hot breath on your neck when he’d appeared behind you. You slip your shorts down your thighs slowly, thinking about his pretty, predatory grin. You imagine how his clawed hands might feel gripping your throat tightly. He could drag them over your skin, rip it open, make you bleed.

You slip your hand down the front of your thong, sliding your fingers through the slick leaking from your pussy. You pull your shirt up to hold it between your teeth so you can squeeze your tits. Then you drag some of the wetness on your fingers upward, rub it over your clit, shuddering.

As you’re slipping your fingers inside of yourself to the thought of him, Denki’s gritting his teeth on the couch. He’s trying not to lose control, trying not to give into that enticing smell of you filling his nose. His mouth is watering, and he can feel his human form starting to slip away. He feels it starting to shed, feels the horns ripping further outward through his scalp, hears his bones cracking as they transform.

He’s in a lustful haze when his form appears in the dark corner of your room. He couldn’t resist the heavy, delicious smell of sex that was seeping out from under your door. It drew him in, like a vulture to a corpse.

You don’t even notice his figure watching you from the shadows, because you’re shuddering as you replace your three fingers with your dildo. He wants to be there — wants so badly for it to be him inside of you, stretching your pussy out, watching your euphoric eyes flutter closed. You fuck yourself with the toy, press the little bullet vibrator harder on your clit, shudder. He could shock your clit with his fingers, make you feel even better. Make your moans louder.

He could get you screaming, he just knows it.

His mouth is watering, watching as you fuck the toy messily in and out of your pussy. You’re so wet. He can hear it. He can see it glistening on your toy. But he knows he could get you even wetter.

The scent of you is thick in the air, taking over his mind. His dick is hard, pressing against the fabric of his pants. He squeezes it hard, grits his teeth, listening to your sweet little whimpers.

He might fucking lose it.

The storm outside surges; lightning illuminates your dark room momentarily.

He keeps making it strike, over and over again, right outside your room, just so he can see you squirm on your bed in the glaring light. You look so good like that: fucking your toy desperately, your pussy dripping all over it and down onto your bedsheets, blissfully unaware of his hungry presence stalking the shadows just a few feet away.

He can see your euphoria. The way you gasp and shake with the vibrator on your clit, tensing up, your little toes curling. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your breaths coming so heavy. You’re getting his dick so hard, squirming around helplessly like that. It’s leaking onto his thigh, getting his leg sticky. He shudders, squeezes it again through the fabric, a little harder this time.

All he wants to do is flicker on top of you and see your blissful eyes shoot open in recognition and horror right before he plunges his thick, hot cock into you.

He can’t help himself, so he peeks into your head, listens to your thoughts. They make him grin, because he can hear his name circling through your head. Each time you fuck the toy into your dripping pussy, it’s his name you’re thinking. It’s his dick you’re imagining, with your eyes squeezed shut. He can see his form flicker in and out of your mind. You’re imagining him moving on top of you, running his hand up your side, his teeth on your throat.

He could do that for you. He could do much more than that. He’d like to sink his teeth down and taste the delicious lust flowing through your veins.

You want to fuck a monster. He could give you exactly what you want.

As his name starts to slip quietly past your lips, he shudders. He unbuttons his pants, wraps his dick up in his hand. He runs his thumb over the leaking tip of it, rubs the slick precum downward, over the hard, ribbed shaft of it as you whimper his name. He’s imagining himself underneath you, with his hands wrapped around your waist, whispering into your ear as he drills his dick into you.

He wants to relinquish all his control and revert fully to his original form. He’d fuck you like that, because he knows you’d love it. He thinks he just might let go and take what he wants from you.

He almost does. But there’s a tiny, tiny voice in the back of his head — one he’s never heard before — warning him that he won’t be happy with what happens afterward. He might kill you and eat you up, if he really gives up all of his control.

He has no idea what’s come over him. Usually, that’s part of the process for him. Fucking people is just half the fun. He’ll eat them up afterward, and cum again, making a mess all over himself just from the taste. Maybe you’ve bewitched him with some kind of magic, manipulated him somehow. That tiny voice in his head is telling him he doesn’t want to kill you.

At least, not yet.

So he watches you from the shadows, biting his lip so hard that black blood leaks out of it. He keeps stroking his dick, watching intently as you fuck your toy with your legs spread wide. He shudders, hearing his name leave your mouth in pleasured gasps as he runs his hand over his dick. The scent of you is so thick in the air around him now; he’s drunk on it.

His head is hazy. Completely intoxicated. He takes a step out of the shadows as you fuck your toy; it’s massive, but still pathetically small compared to the monster he has wrapped up in his hand. The storm outside intensifies, but you don’t notice; you’re chasing your orgasm with him clouding your head.

He takes another step forward, towering over you, looking down hungrily at you with his dick throbbing in his hand.

He needs to get out of here now, before the intoxicating fragrance of you gets the better of him. If he fucked you now, he’d fuck you to death.

His form flickers out of the shadows, leaving you alone in the gloom, fucking yourself to the thought of him.

At the same time that your pussy is starting to tighten up around the toy, your legs shaking from the sensation of the vibrator on your clit, he’s feverishly leaning his weight over the kitchen counter, stroking his slippery, hard dick with the scent of you still so thick in his mind. He groans, unable to get the sound of your moans out of his ears.

His hearing is heightened, and he can hear every single gasp and moan from behind your closed bedroom door, even here in the kitchen — as far away as he can get from you in this house. There’s a knot in his stomach; with each blissful whimper that he hears, it gets tighter. He wants to fuck you so badly that it hurts.

Your soft, increasingly desperate groans swirl around in his head. He’s shuddering over the kitchen counter, swearing and moaning softly, with his hair falling into his face and his eyelids fluttering. He can hear that you’re about to cum, and he wishes it was him in there with you, bringing you to the edge. Each pump of his hand over his cock gets faster, more feverish.

He keeps enduring it, keeps listening to you as you start to cum. And now he’s fucking his hand desperately, wishing he was releasing all of this tension in you. You’re moaning his name hazily as you cum on your toy. He wishes your pussy was squeezing around his dick, dripping all over him. He knows you’d feel amazing. If he were inside of you right now, he’d pump you full of cum, give you exactly what you want.

You want to fuck a monster — and he wants to fuck you, too.

His hand tightens hard on the edge of the kitchen counter, and he shudders, right before the knot in his stomach releases.

As you continue to cum, all the way across the house, he drinks up every feverish breath and starts to cum too. He swears through bared teeth as it shoots out of him: thick, hot, and sticky, so much of it spurting out and onto his fingers, out against your kitchen cabinets, splattering down onto your kitchen floor.

He leans on the counter heavily, catching his breath, listening to his cum sizzling on the floor. He waves his hand over it, and it dissipates into the air.

When he’s all done, coming down with his head still full of you, he decides that he needs to clear his mind. Because he still wants you. Maybe even more now. So he transports himself outside and into the night air in his true form.

He takes a deep breath of the crisp air, unfurls his wings, and takes flight.

STEP 3: THE BINDING.

When you walk out of your room in your work clothes, you’re surprised to find Denki sitting perfectly still and perfectly upright on your couch, watching Keeping up with the Kardashians intently.

“What are you watching?” you demand. “I didn’t take you as a reality TV kind of guy.”

His head snaps to you when you walk into the living room; he analyzes your outfit curiously, narrowing his eyes.

“What are you wearing?” he retorts. “What happened to that outfit from yesterday? I liked it. Black is your color.”

“Shut up,” you say, blushing. “These are my stupid work clothes that I wear to my stupid job.”

“Seems like a shitty job,” he mutters.

“Yeah. Anyway, what’s up with you?” you ask, frowning as you study his face.

He looks like he hasn’t slept or eaten in weeks. His cheeks are gaunt; dark circles frame his eyes, and his skin has lost the youthful glow it had yesterday. Of course, he still looks hot, in a just-rose-from-the-grave sort of way.

The truth is that last night took a lot out of him. Demons are hedonists, after all, and restraining himself the way he did was incredibly draining. He didn’t have a lot of energy to begin with, considering that he hasn’t had anything to eat since he arrived.

But he doesn’t want you to banish him yet — he wants to stay here with you, to learn much more about you.

“I guess I stayed up too late watching Kim cry over losing her earrings in the ocean,” he jokes.

“You watched that all night?” you demand incredulously.

“Of course. It’s funny.”

“Whatever. Can you poof me to my job?”

“I thought I was coming with you,” he pouts.

“You’ll be super bored,” you warn.

“Bored?” he grins, rising from the couch. The TV powers off suddenly. “With you? Never.”

A big, goofy smile crosses your face; you feel giddy for a second.

He flickers right in front of you, holding out his big, slender hand for yours. You place it in his and give him the address of your workplace. He squeezes your hand, looking down at you curiously. You look away for a second, blushing. And, suddenly, the two of you are in the middle of the bustling street, right in front of the office building.

♱♱♱

You probably should have expected that working with a demon peering over your shoulder would be easier said than done. He keeps hovering his face right next to yours, watching intently as you type.

His hot breath on your neck makes you shiver, bringing back unsolicited memories of last night. Denki can see the goosebumps rising on your skin. He’s even hungrier than last night, and after all of that unfamiliar self-restraint, he finds it even harder to control himself. So, mischievously, he gives in to his desires and lets himself peek into your mind.

He knows you want him.

“Can you screw off?” you hiss. He’s leaning forward mischievously now, poking various keys on the keyboard as you try to type. “I’m trying to finish this report.”

He sighs dramatically. “You’re so much more fun at home. This version of you is so boring.”

“This version of me is the one that pays the bills. Now make yourself scarce.”

“Fine,” he pouts. “If you really want to get rid of me that badly.”

“Don’t make me banish you,” you grumble, as his footsteps retreat from your cubicle.

You peek backward; when you see that he’s gone, you let out a little sigh of relief. But your relief is short-lived, because when you look back to your computer screen, it’s going haywire. Windows of different programs keep opening and closing. You groan, hoping that your report isn’t lost.

Suddenly, the colors of a familiar porn site pop up, and you break into a cold sweat as the video starts to play and goes full screen. It’s a girl fucking a toy on her bed, with a vibrator pressed to her clit. Just like you were last night. You’re lucky that the volume is off. But still — you’ll be completely screwed if someone walks past and sees this.

You frantically try to click off, but your mouse isn’t working. So you smash the power button on the monitor, but that doesn’t work either. You hear a snicker from the entrance to your cubicle, and you whip your head around to find Denki standing there, grinning.

“She kind of looks like you,” he teases. “Nowhere as hot, though.”

“Close it,” you hiss.

“Hey, you know what might be fun?” he says, his eyes flicking over to your computer screen.

“Don’t you dare,” you threaten, not knowing exactly what he’s going to do, but knowing it’ll be bad.

He laughs, right before his form flickers out of sight. You turn back to your computer, watching in horror as the volume ticks all the way up. The girl on the screen moans, and it goes bouncing through the office air.

“Fuck,” you say under your breath.

The obscene window on your computer screen closes; you can hear him laughing in your head.

I’m seriously going to kill you, you say in your head, hoping he can still hear you, wherever he is.

You can’t kill me, he teases. Your report document pops back up on your screen, and you let out a relieved sigh. I’m not technically alive.

I’ll find a way, you snap. Now fuck off, before you get me fired.

Whatever you say, he responds, amused.

Don’t kill anyone.

You’re so boring.

Your head goes quiet, so you take the opportunity to make some headway on your report. And all is going well, until you hear a loud shriek coming from the women’s bathroom.

“The mirror!” one of your coworkers shouts, dashing out of the bathroom door. “There was a ghost in the mirror!”

“Get back to work!” comes your boss’ unsympathetic voice, booming across the office. Several people snort.

Denki’s wicked laugh echoes through your head. You suppress an amused grin.

You’re a creep, you chastise. Stop scaring the ladies.

But I’m bored and it’s fun, he whines. By the way, you’re the prettiest one here.

Shut up, you say. I told you that you’d be bored. Why don’t you poof yourself back home? We can hang out when I get back. Go watch more Kardashian antics.

No way, he replies. I’m having too much fun here.

You jump as something large crashes onto the ground outside your cubicle, prompting several of your coworkers to cry out in surprise.

“Did you see that?” someone screeches. “It just fell over on its own!”

“This place is definitely haunted,” your other coworker replies.

You roll your eyes, continuing your attempt to work as Denki causes a ruckus around the office. You have to admit that it’s starting to get kind of funny, the way people are getting progressively more freaked out. But you still really need to finish this report.

When you finally get into a groove, you’re disgruntled to turn your head and find one of your coworkers standing expectantly at the entrance to your cubicle.

“Hey, y/n, what’s up?” he blabbers.

“Just working on this rep—” you start, but he cuts you off, yammering on about something ridiculous, stopping only to compliment your outfit in a very pointed way.

Who are you talking to, huh? comes Denki’s curious voice in your head.

You think so loud, you respond crankily. I can’t hear anything he’s saying over the annoying sound of your voice.

“Y/n?” your coworker asks.

“Huh?” you say. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“It’s okay. I was asking if you’re free tonight.”

It’s been a long, long while since someone’s asked you out. Last time a coworker asked you out, they’d sprinted in the other direction as soon as they’d seen your date night outfit. “Well, I—”

Who is that? comes Denki’s voice again — a little louder this time. A little deeper. Your computer flickers, then burns out with a loud pop. You jump in your seat.

“Oh! Let me help you with that,” your coworker says, stepping into your cubicle before you can protest.

“Maybe you shouldn’t—” you start, but he’s already getting on his hands and knees and crawling underneath your desk to fiddle with the computer cord in the outlet.

“Uhh,” you say hesitantly, rolling your chair backward as he reaches for the outlet. “I really don’t think you should mess with that.”

“It’s fi—” he starts, but as soon as his finger makes contact with the cord you hear a loud ZAP. An acrid smell fills the air. Your coworker starts, yelps, and shoots up. He bumps his head on the underside of the table, and your hand flies to your mouth as you try not to giggle.

Denki laughs heartily in your head.

“Jesus,” your coworker says, standing up and rubbing the back of his head. His hair is standing slightly on end.

Nope, Denki teases in your head. It’s just me.

The computer turns back on suddenly. Your coworker straightens up, smiling; Denki’s form flickers, appearing behind him. There’s a very stern, very disgruntled expression twisting up his face.

“See?” your coworker says jovially, as if he actually fixed something and didn’t just get zapped. “It was just something with the plug.”

“Oh yeah?” you say, narrowing your eyes at Denki over your coworker’s shoulder.

“So, anyway. About tonight,” your coworker continues casually, as if he didn’t just get electrocuted.

Denki’s face twists into a scowl. A sudden crack of loud thunder splits the air; lightning illuminates the gray, stormy sky outside.

“I was thinking…” your coworker is saying, looking at your exposed legs.

Thunder rolls through the air again, and your coworker is interrupted by the sound of shattering glass. The picture that had been hanging on the wall of your cubicle right behind him is now on the floor in a million pieces. Your coworker’s brow furrows; he looks, confused, at the glass shards on the floor by his feet.

Denki grins widely at you from over your poor coworker’s shoulder. His form grows taller, until he’s towering over him. He winks at you, then brings his mouth to your coworker’s ear.

You better not, you think, staring at him with wide eyes.

His smile deepens.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” your coworker asks.

“SHE’S MINE,” Denki shouts in his ear, at the same time that thunder hits again. It’s not his human voice that leaves his mouth; it’s one with several tones within it. The loudest tone is low and horrific; it sends a chill down your spine.

Your coworker freezes in place, with his eyes widening. “What the fuck?” he asks shakily, before whirling around and looking around the cubicle. Of course, it appears empty to him, even though Denki is standing in the corner right next to him.

“What the fuck?” he repeats, casting you a suspicious glance as he backsteps out of the cubicle. “Are you cursed, or something? What the fuck is with you?” he asks. But he doesn’t wait for a response; he just bolts away.

Denki’s just resting against the corner of your cubicle, studying you with a satisfied grin. He can smell the arousal building between your legs even before you really feel it.

“Really?” you say flatly, shooting him a dirty look.

His grin twists into a furious scowl.

“What?” you demand.

“Next time I ask who you’re talking to, you’d better answer me,” he sneers.

“Why are you so jealous?” you ask, ignoring the way his threats are causing heat to swell in your lower stomach.

“Because you’re mine,” he snarls. “You gave yourself to me when you summoned me.”

You press your thighs together; a little chill runs down your spine. “Whatever,” you say shakily.

“Remember these, y/n?” he asks, pulling a lacy strip of fabric out of his pocket and dangling it on a long finger toward you.

“Yeah,” you say, scowling as you eye out your panties. “And what about them?”

“Because you offered me these, you belong to me, for as long as I’m here on earth. Can you get that through your pretty head? Until you send me back to hell, you’re mine, and mine only.”

“Maybe I’ll just banish you, then,” you threaten.

Mine. That word echoes through your head, gets your panties wet for whatever inexplicable reason.

“No, you won’t,” he grins, crossing the cubicle so he’s towering over you. “Isn’t that right?” he continues, watching you shiver, picking up the growing scent of arousal coming from between your legs.

“You hate everyone here, don’t you?” he sneers. “I could kill everyone in this building, and you wouldn’t mind one bit. You’d probably thank me, right? For getting you out of this shitty job?” His smile is unnaturally wide now — splitting his pretty face in an uncanny way.

“I’m not that fucked up,” you say quietly.

“Don’t act so innocent,” he grins. “Don’t forget I can hear what’s going on inside of your head. That I can smell what’s happening between your legs.”

You cower in your little office chair as his form grows taller and taller over you. He’s feeding off of that delicious scent of fear starting to seep from your skin. It’s delicious to him. Intoxicating.

“I bet if I said I’d kill for you it would make you wet, right?” he sneers down at you.

You shiver; he’s right. The threat is making you wet.

He clicks his tongue. “You’re really gonna sit there and tell me you’re not fucked up?” he laughs.

His form disappears suddenly, and you feel it reappear behind you. His hands close over your shoulders, and his claws dig into your skin through your blouse. He brings his mouth to your ear, talks into it softly.

“I can tell you want to be mine,” he says softly. “I can hear it in your head. It’s all over you. And I won’t hesitate to hurt anyone who comes in my way.”

You squirm in your chair, pressing your thighs together.

“No way,” he laughs, burying his face in your neck and inhaling that delicious combination of fear and arousal on you. “I can’t believe you like this so much, y/n.”

“Whatever,” you say hoarsely, writhing out of his grasp. You stand and grab a stack of paper that’s been collecting dust on your desk for the past couple of weeks. “I have to go make some copies,” you mutter.

As you make your way to the copy room, he keeps flickering in front of you every few feet. You keep bumping past him, avoiding eye contact.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, babe,” he grins, flickering in front of you again. He taps his nostril lightly. “I have a very good nose.”

“Okay, and?” you mutter, pushing past him again.

“I can smell arousal,” he says brightly, from behind you. “I could smell it on your little friend, too. He wants to fuck you, you know? Fucking sicko. That’s why I had to ask who you were talking to.”

“You don’t need a very good nose to tell that he wants to fuck me,” you say flatly, placing the stack of paper on the copy machine with shaky hands and turning around to face him.

“Well, I’ll rip his fucking throat out if he comes near you again,” he says cheerily, craning his neck down to grin at you.

You’re shaking, your hands trembling, and your panties are soaked through. He flickers closer, so his face is almost touching yours.

“You’re getting even wetter from this?” he sneers, leaning into your neck and inhaling deeply. “You smell so fucking good,” he says hazily.

The pen you’re holding in your trembling hand clatters to the copy room floor, rolls underneath the copy machine. He disappears from behind your shoulder and, shakily, you crouch to the floor to grab for the pen.

When your cheek hits the floor and you look into the slim space underneath the copy machine, you find that you’re staring right into his grinning, disembodied face. You yelp, scrambling backwards, until your back hits a pair of legs. You look up, and he’s there — behind you, laughing at your frightened expression.

He hauls you to your feet suddenly, delighting in the whimpers that fall from your mouth as he slams you up against the copy machine. He bends your trembling figure over it, spurred on by the enticing smell of fear radiating off of your skin. He wants to rip your neck open, devour your insides to sate the growing hunger in his stomach.

And the smell of arousal coming from between your legs is making him hungry for something else. He wants to make you his. He wants to fuck you, spill his cum inside of you. He’d do anything to breed you, to make you his forever.

You feel his hand coming to envelop the back of your neck, and then he’s slamming your face down onto the copy machine. You let out a pathetic gasp that makes him grin. He brings his face to the side of your neck, inhales deeply again to get his fill of the fear on your skin. He shudders, then licks your throat with an inhuman tongue that seems far too long to fit in his mouth.

He’s absolutely intoxicated, hazy with the scent of your fear and the wetness between your legs. He’s losing control over his human form again. And, unlike last night, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to keep his composure.

Because he’s starved.

He’s grinning with his face nuzzled into your neck. You tremble, watching in horror as his left hand — which is resting beside you, on the copy machine — starts to grow larger and larger. His fingers and claws keep lengthening, darkening until they’re gnarled and gray. His teeth are elongating too, and the sharp edges of them hit your throat, pressing into your skin.

His free hand comes to your cardigan. He rips it off of you forcefully; the buttons clatter to the linoleum floor of the copy room, and the shredded remains of it hit the ground right afterward.

He’s hard against you, his dick pushing against your ass through your clothes. And he’s huge. So big, and getting much, much bigger as his body continues to transform.

You shudder.

“You have to… you have to leave,” you say pathetically, grinding your thighs together in frustration.

“I don’t want to leave,” he snarls into your neck. His fangs push into the skin of your neck hard; if they were a millimeter longer, they’d sink in.

“I have to finish my shift,” you murmur nonsensically.

“But you taste so fucking good,” he says; with each word, his voice gets deeper, and the gnarled hand caging you in gets bigger. You can hear the seams of his clothing starting to rip as his form grows.

He can smell your fear heightening, and with each passing second it gets harder to control himself.

“I’m scared,” you say shakily.

“Why don’t you run, then?” he laughs in a very deep voice that’s a combination of many.

You stare in fright as the claws on his horrible hand start to dig into the plastic shell of the copy machine. You’re frozen in place, too afraid to look backward at his face. He’s completely lost control now; he’s completely given himself up to his demonic, carnal desires. In this moment, that side of him that you’d laughed with and gotten to know is gone, taken over by this thing that survives purely on instinct.

And this thing is starving. The flow of the fear coming through your skin isn’t enough — he needs more.

“R-run?” you stammer.

“Yes,” he laughs deeply. “Little humans like you always taste so much better after a chase.”

“Denki, please,” you say shakily.

“I’ll give you to the count of ten,” he grins against your throat. “And then I’m coming after you.”

And then he’s gone. You straighten up and whirl around with a pounding heart and fearful tears in your eyes, but it’s just his deep laugh left echoing in the air. You’re frozen in place for a second, with chills rolling down your spine.

ONE, booms a terrible voice inside your head.

That’s when your feet come unglued and you take off running, leaving the shredded remains of your cardigan in the copy room.

You sprint to your cubicle, grabbing your bag off the chair, and then you’re dashing out of the office with several of your coworkers calling after you as that awful voice says SIX.

SEVEN.

You run down the hallway with your heart in your throat and chills racking your body, taking a corner so fast you barely even have time to turn.

EIGHT.

The lights overhead flicker, and the hallway in front of you seems to extend; somehow, the elevators at the end of it get further and further away.

NINE.

Gray gloom floods through the window at the end of the hallways. You choke out a sob as thunder rolls overhead, so loud that the floor seems to shake. The heavy roar of rain starts.

TEN.

The hair on the back of your neck stands up, because you can feel his presence start to move. It’s close, and now it’s getting closer.

HERE I COME.

You glance behind you, and you catch a glimpse of a large, gnarled gray hand grabbing the wall as that thing turns the corner to come after you. You gasp for air, finally reaching the elevators. You slam your hand on the call button several times, looking down the hallway, expecting to see that large figure. But it’s not there.

You breathe out a sigh of relief, listening to the little beeps of the elevator as it approaches your floor. But your relief is short lived — because as soon as you face forward, to the closed stainless steel elevator door, you see something horrific in its reflection.

Something large, very large, standing right behind you — a dark gray, humanoid figure, so tall that its head is out of sight in the stainless steel reflection. You scream and whirl around, but there’s nothing behind you, just a deep, terrible laugh booming in your mind.

You sob and turn back around, smashing the call button again and watching with tears in your eyes as the floor indicator passes your floor and keeps going down, speeding up until it’s decreasing impossibly fast, until it says that the elevator is at floor -666.

A chill runs down your spine, and you take off toward the emergency stairwell. You burst through the door, look down at the dizzying, spiraling staircase for a fraction of a second before you start sprinting down them, taking them two at a time.

It feels like you’ve been running down the stairs forever when you start to hear the heavy footsteps above you. You look up at the winding concrete as you keep stumbling down the stairs. Above you, just a few floors up, a long, clawed hand trails over the railing.

“Fuck,” you choke.

Finally, after you’ve run down what feels like thousands of flights, you burst out of the emergency exit and onto the street. It’s pouring outside; the sky is gray, with lightning spidering across it every few seconds. Thunder rolls overhead as you sprint down the sidewalk, bumping past people haphazardly.

Lightning strikes the street beside you, and you swear you can see a figure in it when it does.

I’M BACK HERE, his voice laughs.

You tear your eyes away from the horrific sight, then glance behind you; a towering horned figure grins at you from within the crowd.

You choke out a sob, turning your head back to face forward. And when you do, your eyes graze past a shop window. Somehow, he’s inside there — smiling widely at you from inside the store. A chill runs down your spine; you tear your eyes away and look forward only, sprinting desperately down the street until you’re in your neighborhood and your house comes into sight.

He never lets you get too far away; he keeps teleporting a little closer. Close enough that he can feed off of that delicious fear, feeling invigorated off of it. He likes to watch you run; you’re getting drenched in the rain, and your white blouse is completely soaked, see-through.

You’re dashing up the stairs to your house with your hand rummaging desperately for your bag for your keys, teary-eyed.

“Please, please, please,” you murmur under your breath until, finally, your fingers catch them.

You pull your keys out of your purse, then breathlessly try to slot your house key into the lock with your trembling fingers. And when the lock finally tumbles, you let out a deep, relieved breath and dash inside.

You feel safe, standing right inside the doorway. That is, until you turn on the lights and see him waiting inside your house for you.

He’s standing there, in the corner of the room. Massive. So tall. He must be at least eight feet tall, not counting the height from those gnarled horns protruding from his head. His elongated, distorted fingers hang far down his sides.

Before you can take in anything else about him, your front door blows closed behind you and slams loudly. You whirl around and grab the handle, twisting it urgently so you can run back outside, but it won’t give. So you turn back around, with your heart pounding in your throat. Lightning hits right outside your house, striking the power line; you see the surge of electricity on the wire right before the brightest overhead light goes out.

When you look back to the corner of the room, he’s gone. Your eyes dart around wildly as another light burns out and you find him standing in the darkness, right behind the rocking chair. He grins; his form flickers slightly toward you right before a crack of thunder sounds overhead and the rest of the lights go out, leaving the room almost pitch black.

You let out a shrill scream, rummaging desperately for your phone in your bag so you can use it as a flashlight. He’s here in the dark with you; you don’t know exactly where, but he’s here. You find it, finally, at the bottom of your bag, and grab it desperately.

As soon as you take your phone out of your bag, off-key classical music starts blaring through its speakers. Frightened, you drop it to the ground with the lock screen still illuminated. It clatters to the floor, the screen cracks, and the music starts to play backward. And right in the little light it casts upward are two legs.

He’s standing right there — right past your phone on the ground.

Unable to see in the dark, and with the music impossibly loud, discordant and terrifying in your ears, you sprint to the kitchen island, tripping over things on the floor on your way there. You collide with it and then, sniffling and trembling, knowing he’s lurking somewhere near you in the darkness — waiting to eat you up whole — you finally find the drawer handle that you’re looking for.

You rummage through the drawer desperately until your fingers close around a candle and, next to it, a lighter. You grab the candle and place it on the countertop, flicking the lighter with trembling fingers. You try to light it — once, twice, three times — but it’s not working.

You choke out a sob as you squint into the darkness, terrified. You can’t see him, but you know he’s close.

Finally, on your fourth, desperate try, the flame on the lighter catches. You bring it to the wick; it takes a second to take the flame. When it does, there’s a little crackle, and the flame catches violently, bursting high in the air.

You let out a scream of complete and utter horror.

Right there, in the light of the flame, is a wicked face twisted up into a vicious, hungry grin. The flame grows higher for a second, illuminating his body. His big figure is hunched over, his neck stooped low to bring his terrifying face level with the candle, right in front of you. He starts to laugh — a deep, terrible sound that echoes through his cavernous, twisted body.

Your shrill scream pierces the air as you stumble backward. You watch, absolutely petrified, as he stands to his full height, placing his massive, clawed hands on the kitchen island to bring his face over it and close to yours.

His eyes are blacked out, his teeth bared, his hot breath hitting your face. He’s impossibly large, especially now that he’s up close. You shrink away, with tears of horror streaking down your cheeks.

Denki’s form flickers, appearing right in front of you, his face cast into shadow by the candlelight. You shriek, right before you feel his massive, clawed hand wrap around your throat. He squeezes hard, lifts you upward until your feet are dangling helplessly off the ground. You choke, gasping for air, kicking your feet pathetically. His black, wolfish eyes study you curiously as you look pleadingly up at him, desperately trying to pry his fingers off your neck.

“I can’t wait to devour you,” he says. “Your soul is going to be delicious.”

With his teeth bared, he brings his face to yours, pressing his nose to your jaw and inhaling deeply. The fear is dripping off of you, and it’s intoxicating. Every human’s fear has a unique smell, and yours is especially sweet. Delectable. He finds that to be true for people who don’t scare easily.

But there’s something else. A second smell permeating the air around you — a scent he’s never smelled accompanying fear.

It’s lust that’s thick on you, dripping between your legs. His horrific grin deepens.

He watches you continue your sweet, futile struggle against him, prying pitifully at his fingers, which don’t give an inch. Watching you struggle is having a curious effect on him. As he drinks up your fear, satiates that hunger, one of a different kind is growing inside of him.

He squeezes his hand tighter around your neck, listens to your ragged breathing as you struggle to gulp down air. He can smell you getting wetter. He brings his free hand up to your blouse — all see-through and drenched from the rain — and rips it off of your chest.

You shiver, squeezing your thighs together. The feeling between your legs is heightening, getting more and more intense. It’s puffy between your thighs. Wet, and getting wetter as your fear grows more and more intense.

But, as much as you like it — as much as this terrifying game excites you — somewhere in your head, you know that you’re in far too deep.

This demon that you’ve summoned is nowhere near what was described in the book. It had called him docile. This creature — the same one that’s dragging it’s wet tongue up your face and drinking in your fear, the same one that wants to eat you whole — how could anyone call it docile?

But, more importantly, why is all of this making you want him so much?

His teeth brush against your neck, splitting your skin open easily. A little droplet of blood rolls down. He runs his tongue over it, squeezing your throat tighter when he finally tastes you.

“Denki, please,” you say shakily. “I’m really scared.”

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, there’s a part of him that’s not completely clouded by lust. A part that’s not chanting eat, kill, fuck. Your pathetic voice sends an unfamiliar jolt of sympathy and concern through him.

He can barely comprehend what he’s feeling at first — he didn’t know he was capable of these emotions. Human emotions. He’s fed off so much of your fear now that the hunger-induced haze in his mind is starting to clear. You see his eyes change for a second: the feline, curious citrine peeks through the black right before he squeezes his eyes shut. He releases his grip around your neck and brings his hands to his head, battling with the urges inside of him. Your feet hit the floor, and you stumble backward before regaining your balance, gasping for air.

Somehow, his human form is struggling for dominance. He’s never experienced something quite like this.

He regains a little of himself, the part of him that you know. His human form takes control — just a little bit of it, but enough. This weak human form that’s been feeling for you has suddenly become strong enough to battle with his carnal instincts.

His eyes shift back to gold, and his form shrinks a bit. He blinks several times, shivering.

“What — where are — did I hurt you — ?” he asks, looking around groggily, before his eyes settle on you.

“No,” you say shakily.

“But you’re bleeding,” he says in a choked voice, swiping his fingers over his lips. He brings them to his face, sees the blood on them. “I didn’t mean to,” he says, sounding panicked.

“It’s alright,” you say, trembling. “I know you didn’t.”

“My time is running out,” he groans.

You can see that he’s in pain — that he’s struggling to keep his human form.

“I’m so hungry,” he says. “I’ve barely been able to control it, and it’s going to take over me. Like it did at your job.” He grits his teeth. “I’m so hungry,” he repeats helplessly. “You have to banish me before I —”

“I don’t want you to go,” you say. You don’t really even know what you’re saying; you don’t know why you so desperately crave him — this very same creature that nearly killed you. “What do you need?” you ask helplessly. “What do you need to stay?”

“Fear,” he says weakly.

You decide to give into your instincts now, no matter how ridiculous they might be. You don’t know why, but the fact of the matter is that you’re dying for him to stay.

“Well…” you start, letting the shreds of your top that you’d been clutching to your chest fall to the floor. You drop your hands off of your chest, exposing yourself, and take a step to press your body against his.

He shudders; his breaths pick up.

You look at his eyes, which glint in the candlelight. You can feel his dick pushing against you through the tatters of the fabric still on his lower half. He’s hard, massive. He lets out a hazy groan.

“Why don’t you come feed off my fear?” you ask, quietly.

“You like being afraid,” he asks hazily. It’s a statement, not a question.

You nod.

“What if I lose control?”

“I trust you,” you say quietly. “Come on… it’s okay. I want you.”

“Are you sure?”

“You were right,” you say, looking up at him, wide-eyed. “There’s no one here for me but you. I belong to you. So take what you need from me.”

“You really belong to me?” he says quietly.

“I do,” you say, dropping to your knees in front of him, running your hands up his thighs with your eyes on his.

He can smell the difference on you. His nose is sharp, attuned to that biological response. You’re not as wet as you were before, and he knows it’s because you’re safe. Now that he knows what makes you tick — now that he knows that you get off on his true form and that you crave the fear it brings — he wants nothing more than to give you exactly what you want.

“Y/n,” he says, wrestling with these newfound emotions inside of himself, “there’s no one else like you in this world or the one below. I want you so much.”

“Why don’t you make me yours?” you say, unzipping his pants. “Can you show me who you really are again?”

The way you’re giving yourself up so trustingly hits him straight in the heart. He’s in wonderment at this feeling. It’s more than just lust. More than a need to fuck. It’s a craving for you — to keep you, to own you.

He watches you wrap your lips around his aching dick, lets out a little shudder, a soft moan. He closes his eyes and just feels: the soft, wet sensation of your mouth closing in around his cock, getting it so wet.

He’s never felt something like this. He’s fucked faces before — broken jaws from fucking them bloody. He usually takes what he wants.

But this is different. You’re taking your time, and he’s letting you. You get his dick slick, slippery, drag your tongue over the sensitive length of it, slip him deeper into your mouth.

He lets out a soft whimper as you take more and more of his dick into your mouth, pushing the dripping tip of it further back until he’s hitting your gag reflex. And then you keep going. His perfect teeth bare, and he groans softly through them, bringing his hand to rest on the back of your head.

It’s when his dick nudges at the back of your throat — when you swallow the tip of it and he can feel your throat closing tight around him — that his control finally wavers.

“I’m gonna give you exactly what you’ve been wanting this entire time,” he says.

Lightning strikes somewhere outside, several times, illuminating the room as he grows above you. You watch through bleary eyes, sniffling, choking around his dick as his body transforms. Thunder rolls overhead; rain starts to come down hard.

His dick was already so big in your mouth, but as he transforms above you it keeps getting bigger and bigger. Soon, you’re whimpering around it, the massive shape of it stretching your jaw so wide you’re afraid it’ll break.

His hand on the back of your head grows larger and larger. You cough, choke around his cock, tilt your head upward as he continues to get taller. And soon he’s towering over you, with his dick plugging your mouth up.

He can smell you getting wetter as you struggle to take his entire dick in your mouth. He likes the way the tears stream down your wide-eyed face as you take in his massive, horrifying figure. He thinks you look so good down there, so tiny, your mouth stuffed with his leaking dick. You’re just eating it up, all the way to the base of it, coughing and gagging as your throat expands around it.

The fear coming off of you swirls around in his head, and he imagines devouring you whole after he pumps you full of his cum. For a second, he really thinks that he might completely lose control, just like he warned you. He might grab your head in his massive hand and fuck your face until you can’t breathe, until your jaw dislocates and he’s just using you to fuck himself.

But somehow, this time is different. This time, the sentience of his human form rules a small part of his brain, promising to keep him from going too far.

But this isn’t far enough yet; he’s craving more.

He pulls your head back and off of his dick, crouching to bring his horrific face right up to yours. His blacked-out eyes study your tear-stained cheeks. His grin gets wider, splitting his face menacingly.

There’s a strange, animalistic clicking sound rattling in his throat as his long tongue unfurls from his mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut as it drags over your neck, hot and slimy. You shiver; the clicking in the back of his throat quickens as he drinks in your fear.

You really don’t have time to process what’s happening next. All you know is that, suddenly, he’s teleported you, and the entire room is upside down. Something closes around your ankle; your back slams against the wall.

No, that’s not right. It’s not the room that’s upside down — it’s you. Denki has one clawed hand dangling you by the ankle, his leg pinning your shoulder to the wall. His ribbed dick is right in your face, prodding at your lips.

The blood is rushing to your head.

You grab helplessly at his hips, and your hands look tiny on him. He slots his dick violently into your mouth. You try to protest for a second, tears streaming down — or up? — your face as your jaw stretches to fit him again.

He starts to ram his cock in and out of your wet mouth. The hard, ribbed tip of it prods at your tight throat until it gives. You cough, choking around the massive girth of it as it forces your throat violently outward.

The way you’re starting to cry around his cock spurs him on. He thinks you look so delicious like that — with tears running down your face, whimpering each time he jerks his hips forward. Your pathetic expression and the vibrations coming from your babbling mouth make your lips feel that much better around him. He rewards you by fucking your face harder, more precum leaking out of his dick, coating your tongue and the inside of your cheeks thickly.

The smell of your dripping pussy is filling his nose, and it’s irresistible. So enticing, he’d like to eat you up completely. So, as he continues to fuck your face so brutally that your head slams back against the wall with each thrust, he stoops his neck downward. His long tongue slithers out of his mouth, a hungry, snakelike thing with its own will.

That wet, slippery, long thing moves greedily over your pussy, lapping up all of your juices. And the taste of you goes straight to his head, fogs up his senses until he can’t taste or smell or see anything but you.

The cloudier his mind gets with lust, the more desperate his thrusts become. He fucks your face hard, crams his ribbed dick into your tiny throat as his tongue moves enthusiastically over your tiny, clenching slit. He’s thorough, eating up every last drop of wetness seeping out of you before his tongue creeps back up to your clit to spiral around it.

You’re already struggling to breathe as Denki’s dick plugs your mouth full. You barely have time to gasp for air between each violent thrust into your aching throat; the pressure in your head is starting to become unbearable from all of the blood pooling in it.

His twisting tongue starts to prod at your tiny slit until it gives way. And then he’s pushing it inside of you; you feel it slithering deeper and deeper. Your pussy stretches to accommodate the slippery thickness of it. You shudder, then start to choke out strangled moans around his dick. He’s stroking his tongue against the sensitive, fluttering walls of your pussy; you can feel it twist and curl quickly inside of you. And once you’re a sniveling mess, he starts to fuck you with it: snakes it in and out of you, faster and deeper each time.

You’re stuffed full now, your jaw open to its max around his dick as his tongue brutalizes your pussy.

His deep, hazy breaths keep catching in his throat. And they keep speeding up, too, until they match the pace of his hips smacking against your face. Your throat feels amazing squeezing his cock. He’s amazed that you’re taking the entire thing — that he didn’t have to dislocate your jaw to make you take it.

At the same time that he’s drinking in the delicious flavor of fear in your strangled whimpers, he’s foggily feeding off the sweet taste of your insides. He retracts his tongue slowly. The long, dripping thing slides slowly out of your pussy, curling back into his mouth so he can swallow all of your juices.

Once he’s gulped down every last drop from your pussy, his tongue unfurls again, dropping out of his mouth. This time, it snakes hungrily to your ass, nudging against your tiny hole until it gives. His tongue snakes inside of your ass and grows, somehow. It keeps getting thicker. Longer and longer, until it’s buried deep inside of you. And then he pulls it out, plunges it back into you, over and over again.

You’re trying to warn him that it’s too good. The way his hot tongue is stretching your ass out, drilling deeply into you and back out is going to make you cum. But he’s fucking your throat so brutally that all you can do is gargle around his cock pathetically.

There’s snot dripping from your nose, tears dripping from your eyes as your throat gets fucked raw. Your head is swimming from the blood rushing to it. But you’re barely focused on that; you’re too wrapped up in the sensation of his tongue fucking your ass. It’s so good, getting your pussy so wet that the slick of it smears all over his chin.

He nuzzles his face between your legs as he continues to tonguefuck your ass. His chin hits your clit and rubs over it; the added stimulation has your insides tightening up. His tongue plunges in and out of you, and the thick, lubed-up, hot feeling of it in your ass makes you tense even more. He pushes your body hard against the wall, keeps fucking your ass and your mouth as he listens to your garbled moans get more and more euphoric.

And then he feels your pussy start to gush onto his chin.

Your tight ass contracts around his tongue, loosens, keeps tensing and untensing around his tongue. He keeps plunging the wet, snakelike muscle in and out of you, draws out your orgasm as he feels his own approach. He groans, his breath hot between your legs.

He’s close, shoving his dick so far down your throat you think it might burst. You’re convulsing; hot waves of pleasure burst through you as you gag and cry around his cock.

And, finally, with you cumming on his tongue and your pussy gushing onto his face, he shudders hard and spills over. His cum starts to shoot down your throat; it’s burning hot, scalding as it goes down. You let out a strangled cry, feeling it burn your aching throat. And there’s so much: so much that it’s dripping out of your mouth, shooting out of your nose. He just keeps going — keeps rutting his dick into your throat as he cums, fucking you raw, pumping your mouth full of it.

When you’re both done, he pulls his drooling tongue out of your ass, running it over the gaping, stretched rim of it several times before it retracts into his mouth.

He teleports you suddenly. You flicker upright and upward, into the air in front of his face in a sitting position. He hovers you there for a second, then drops you. You yelp as you fall suddenly, stopping when the backs of your thighs hit his shoulders.

You look down at the ground; you feel like you’re so far up, sitting up here on his shoulders, with your back pressed against the wall and his face right between your legs.

You bring your hands up to the tall horns protruding from his head and wrap your fingers around them, balancing yourself as you look down at his face with wide, frightful eyes.

You’re still catching your breath, and he’s grinning up at you widely.

“What are you doing?” you croak.

You don’t think I’m done, do you? his amused voice echoes through your head, as he leans forward to bring his hot mouth back to your pussy. His curious tongue unfurls again, snaking out of his mouth like a creature darting out of a cave.

His tongue circles your clit, flicks against it messily until you’re shivering. He’s high on the taste of you — hungry, acting on instinct. He grips his hard, ribbed dick — still wet from your mouth and slippery with his cum — and wraps it up in his clawed hand as his tongue twists against your clit.

He leans you backward, pulls you slightly off the wall so his tongue can drop downward and slip into your dripping slit. You shudder as the hot, wet thing snakes into you again, dipping inside and coming back out covered in you.

“I want you,” you say shakily.

Let me stretch you out a little more first, his amused voice echoes through your head. Or else I’ll rip you open on my dick. He cocks his head slightly to the side, watches your eyes widen. His blacked-out eyes crinkle up at the corners at your frightened expression. Or is that what you want? he teases.

His wicked laugh booms through your head, sending a chill down your spine.

He pulls his tongue out of you slowly. Trembling, you watch as it starts to split into two. The split starts at the very tip of his tongue. The two halves of it fork, and the split continues to travel upward. Both halves lengthen, becoming separate, independent, long appendages.

You let out a startled shriek as both sides of his split tongue snake suddenly forward at the same time. You cringe, trying to shy backward from the animalistic things. But your back is already pressed against the wall.

All you can do is watch as both of the wet, serpentine halves of his tongue spiral into your pussy at once. They keep extending forward, elongating out of his mouth and into you. They push inside you, further and further, until they’re impossibly deep.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, shivering in horror, as you watch his tongue extend further out of his mouth.

What makes you think god is around? echoes his sardonic response through your mind.

It’s just you and me, y/n.

He grins.

His tongue continues to twist and curl, then starts to expand inside of your pussy. It strokes over your insides, dragging against your sensitive walls. Then both halves untangle inside of you and snake in opposite directions, pushing forcefully outward. They prod the dripping, throbbing walls of your pussy outward until you’re stretched impossibly wide.

You let out the most delicious, pathetic little whine. And as a reward, he stretches you out even more, so far that you think you’ll rip open.

Once you’re shaking with fear, he takes a break from stretching your pussy out to tonguefuck you. The wet, slick muscles plunge deeply inside of you, pushing up against your cervix. The base of his tongue is thick, stretching out your abused, clenching slit.

He keeps fucking you with his tongue until he sees you shaking, until tears are streaming down your cheeks and your pathetic little fists are clenched tight, trembling around his horns. He’s so high now, so cloudy on the combination of your pussy and your fear that he’s digging his gnarled claws into the walls of your house without even noticing it.

Thunder rolls overhead, and lightning strikes several times, providing the only source of light in your house aside from the dim, flickering candle on the kitchen counter.

The harsh patter of rain roars against the roof of your hand as his forked tongue starts to push the walls of your pussy outward again.

“That feels so good,” you whine breathlessly. “Fuck me, please. I want your dick inside of me.”

He shudders; his hands dig harder into the walls. Pieces crumble off, hitting the floor below.

Cum on my tongue again first, his hazy voice echoes through your mind. I want to drink it out of you. I’ll fuck you if you give me what I want.

And with that promise, your thighs start to tense up on his shoulders, your little hands gripping his horns so tight. He takes his claws out of the walls to wrap his enormous hands around your thighs, squeezes them hard. His fingers are so large and long on your thighs that they wrap almost all the way around them.

The tension in your stomach is rising fast.

He can feel your pussy getting wetter; it’s drenched around his tongue. He digs his fingers into your thighs hard, and you cry out, feeling them bruise. His claws dig into your skin, further and further until it breaks. Little droplets of blood roll down your thighs and onto his shoulders. The scent of blood fills the air; that awful clicking sound in his throat resumes.

The tightness in your muscles hits a boiling point as the blood drips down your thighs. You start to cum just like this: sitting on his shoulders, at least six feet off the ground, with your back pressed against the wall and his claws digging into your skin. He keeps going as you spill over; his hot, forked tongue keeps spiralling inside of your pussy as it squeezes around him, intensifying your orgasm.

He shudders, tastes your cum euphorically, drinks up all of the liquid gushing out of you as your sensitive walls squeeze.

You’re still cumming when he pulls his tongue out of you. He turns his head to the side suddenly, digs his fangs into the soft flesh of your thighs hard. You shriek as he draws blood, the dark liquid flowing down your thighs. His tongue snakes over your skin, laps the blood off of it. Your hazy moans are turning into pained, strangled shrieks as you continue to cum; it’s music to his ears.

He’s intoxicated by everything about you. The smell of you, the taste of you. And if it weren’t for that tiny sliver of sentience — of newfound humanity — within him, he’d have given himself up to his instincts. He’d have drained your body of all its blood by now, eaten you whole. He’d have fucked you, broken you, long ago. But instead he’s here, drunk on the euphoria he’s getting from pleasing you.

You come down shakily, trembling on his shoulders, watching him clean the blood off of your thighs with his tongue.

See? his voice teases in your head. That wasn’t so hard, right?

You nod pathetically.

Now I’m gonna give you what you’ve been begging me for. What you’ve been dying to have since you fucked that little toy in your room last night, wishing it was me. He grins widely.

You’re teleported suddenly off his shoulders. You yelp, finding yourself caged between him and the wall — folded in half with your knees pressed to your shoulders. His forearms are pushing your bruised, bitten thighs backward, so they’re flush against your body. His massive hands are flat on the wall on either side of you, his claws digging into the drywall once again.

You look down, trembling. His dick is pressed against your dripping, fluttering entrance. He’s huge. Ribbed, impossibly hard, and much bigger than he was in your mouth.

When he said he would have ripped you open on his dick, he wasn’t kidding. You’re shaking, watching it press a little into you, leaking hot precum against your slit. Just the tip of it stretches you so wide; if he hadn’t pushed your insides open with his forked tongue and made you cum again, his cock would tear you apart.

And if you were anyone else, he’d pump into you violently right now. He’d fuck you bloody, without a care in the world but satiating his own carnal desires.

He adjusts slightly, brings his massive hands to span under your ass, supporting your weight easily. You spread your thighs wide, wincing as his dick pushes a little further inside of you. He leers down at your tiny figure below him, enjoying the sight of your spread legs dangling over his arms.

He loves that fearful look on your face. The tremors running through you. Maybe he can play with you a little more — get you even wetter than you already are.

He brings his wiry, barbed tail up over his shoulder. It comes shooting quickly toward your face, then stops suddenly when it’s positioned just an inch away from you. You let out a pathetic cry as the barb in the end of it grows, dripping a clear liquid.

Poison, his voice echoes through your head. Just in case you were wondering.

The barb of his tail is positioned threateningly right in front of the spot between your eyebrows. He could move it forward if he felt like it — spear it through your skull and paralyze you. He’s done it countless times before. It’s an instant, easy kill. Then he could use your limp body however he wanted. His amused laugh booms through the air; you flinch.

Are you scared?

“Yes,” you whimper.

I could kill you, he laughs in your head. His blacked out eyes are fixed on you, and his dick is dripping scalding hot precum right past your fluttering entrance. Actually, I might.

Your pussy clenches, gets a lot wetter; his wicked smile widens. You’re too much fun. Just like he knew you’d be.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me first?” you laugh shakily.

He laughs in your face. His tail moves back a little from your head and forks into two, just like his tongue. Both ends are barbed, and they fly quickly to your throat. You jump, expecting pain. But the barbs don’t pierce your throat, like you expect; instead, they pierce through the wall right on either side of your neck. You feel them fusing in the middle right before they branch around your throat, and the wiry sensation of his tail on your neck keeps tightening until you’re gasping for air. The pressure increases in your head; you start to choke.

You feel the tip of his dick get bigger inside of you, and a few tears slip down your face. Your lip trembles.

I could barely keep my dick small when you were sucking it, he laughs. I wanted to break your fucking jaw so I could fuck your face harder.

Small? you think incredulously.

“If you wanted to break me that bad, why didn’t you?” you choke hoarsely.

You’re so fucking fun, he grins. There’s still time.

Then his hot mouth is crashing onto yours, and he’s pushing his dick further inside of you. It’s brutal. Too big. His giant tongue forces its way into your mouth, then elongates until it’s slithering down your throat. And as you’re struggling to breathe, with his wiry tail constricting around your neck, he’s shoving his forked tongue all the way down your throat.

You’re suffocating, your heart racing from fear as his dick brutalizes your insides. You keep gagging around his tongue as it snakes further and further down, keep squirming as his ribbed dick stretches you out painfully. Each time you gag, your pussy squeezes around his dick, so he keeps his tongue in your throat. He won’t let you breathe, just gag and choke.

His dick pushing into you is better than anything you’ve ever had: it’s ribbed in all the right places, the ridges pushing out against your g spot, stroking against it with each thrust. And it’s so thick you think that you might rip open, even after all of that prep.

As soon as he bottoms out, pumping the entire, massive girth of his dick into you, you know you’re going to cum. You can feel it, and so can he — the delicious way your insides are tensing up around him. His tongue retracts a bit and slips out of your throat; you gag as it slides out of your mouth. You try to take a deep breath, but his tail squeezes around your neck, and you can only manage a ragged gasp.

He looks downward, watching his dick disappear into you. He’s panting heavily, his forked tongue hanging far out of his mouth. Spit pools on the bottom of his tongue, drops off of it. It lands on his dick, right before he plunges it into you again.

After a few strokes, his hot precum is coating your insides, mixing with your own wetness. You’re whimpering, closer and closer and closer to cumming on his dick as you watch it poke your stomach out with each thrust.

The ridges of his dick keep rubbing on your g spot: once, twice, three times. He’s just watching hazily, with his head down and his teeth bared, listening intently to each messy, squelching pump. He adjusts, supports your weight with one hand so he can bring a thumb to your clit as he fucks you.

Little flickers of lightning escape his mouth; outside, thunder rolls. Rain continues to crash down on the roof.

He can feel that you’re going to cum. And he’s desperate to feel you fall apart, so he rests his thumb on your clit and shocks it each time he thrusts into you. It’s better than a vibrator, so much more intense, and you cum just like that, falling apart around his dick as he shocks you through it.

I’m gonna pump a fucking baby into your pretty little pussy, comes his hazy voice in your mind. And then you’ll be mine forever.

“I’m already yours forever,” you say; your voice is breathless and shaky.

Oh, really? his laugh booms through your mind. Maybe I’ll just fuck a little demon into you for fun, then.

“Please,” you beg hazily.

You’ve barely finished coming down from your last orgasm when another starts to build up inside of you. You tighten hard, feeling the ridges of his dick graze over your sensitive, overstimulated walls.

“Give it to me, give me everything,” you plead. “I want to be yours.”

He grits his teeth at that, feeling a primal urge to devour and own. It sends a jolt straight between his legs. He needs to see your stomach swollen, your pussy puffy and dripping with his hot cum. He adjusts, digs his claws into the soft flesh of your ass until they’re ripping through your skin and drawing blood. You keep moaning, keep cumming on his cock as the blood trails down his fingers, dripping onto the floor below. His barbed tail tightens around your throat so hard you think you might lose consciousness.

He fucks you so hard that you think your body might break, that you think he might jumble up your insides and actually kill you. You’re crying, gasping for air. Choking out frightened gasps that just make him brutalize you more.

His mouth comes crashing down on your shoulder; his fangs rip through your skin, and you squeal. You’re still cumming, still getting off on the pain as he runs his tongue over your broken skin. He’s panting, feeling you convulse around his twitching dick.

Finally, taking one last deep inhale of that delicious combination of your blood, fear, and lust, he spills over. His stomach knots up, and then he’s cumming inside of you: filling you up completely. There’s so much of the hot, sticky liquid shooting into you that it gushes back out around his dick, dripping out of your puffy, used slit. You’re still cumming, each contraction milking more cum out of his dick.

Before you’re both even done, he’s teleporting the two of you into the gray gloom of your bedroom. Lightning strikes, and for a second the two of you hang in the air right above your bed — stretched out horizontally in the air, with him on top of you. He’s still inside of you, and he grins at you right before the two of you go crashing down onto your bed.

When you hit the mattress, his entire body weight rams his dick into you. You let out a pained cry, and he shudders. Hot cum gushes out of your pussy, drips down onto your bedsheets.

He fucks you like this, ramming you down into the mattress with his face buried in your neck, shuddering as he inhales. He nips your neck, gets you bleeding there — just a little bit — and licks it up, panting.

“Bite me harder,” you beg.

“I could rip your fucking throat open,” he says deeply. “Is that what you want?”

“Maybe,” you say.

He laughs deeply, then starts to trail his long tongue down your chest. It leaves a trail of hot spit on your skin, slithering downward until it’s dragging over your tits. He circles it over your nipples, several times. He’s panting: hot breaths hitting your chest and making you shiver.

Then he dips his head downward, and his mouth closes over your nipple. Little electric jolts shock your nipples, make you jump and yelp. He brings his mouth up a little, bites down hard on the fat of your chest. His teeth sink into your skin, rip it open, and blood runs down your side, dripping onto your black sheets.

His face flickers in front of yours suddenly, and his clawed hand grabs your jaw roughly.

Open your mouth, his voice says in your head.

Obediently, you do. He drops a big, hot glob of spit past your lips. When it hits your tongue, it sends a little shock over it.

You taste blood in his spit: metallic and bitter. Your pussy squeezes, gets wetter off the taste.

He lifts your thighs up, folds you in half with his body weight on top of you, until your legs are pressed flush against your chest. He grits his teeth, listening hazily to your soft moans. He cages you in on both sides, his clawed hands digging into your black sheets; you can hear them tearing beneath you.

“Fill me up some more,” you beg breathlessly, even though you’re stuffed full of cum — even though each time he moves in you a little bit of it gushes out around him.

He groans through bared teeth. They’re stained red with blood. Your blood. His claws shred the sheets beside you to tatters as he pushes his dick inside of you again, starts to plunge it fast and deep into you.

You slip your hand between your legs and swipe up some of the cum that leaks out of you with each thrust. Then you drag it upward, smear it over your sensitive clit. You rub little circles onto it as he fucks you brutally. Your little moans and whimpers are heightening; he knows you’re going to cum again. He can see it in your expressions, too: the fluttering of your eyelashes, the way your eyes are starting to roll back.

Want more cum? his voice says in your head.

“Please,” you beg.

He’s going to make sure he gets you nice and full.

He teleports the two of you suddenly to the edge of the bed. He’s sitting up now, with his feet flat on the ground. And you’re crouching over his lap, with your legs spread around his thighs, your feet planted on the tattered bed sheets. His big hands cup your ass, squeezing as he lifts you up and down on his cock, helping you bounce. You glance downward hazily, watching the cum gush out of you, collecting down at the base of his dick.

His wiry tail flicks around from behind him, wraps quickly around your neck twice like a noose. Your eyes widen as it tightens.

Don’t stop, he says in your head, grinning.

Obediently, you bounce, gasping for air as his tail tightens around your neck. His cock feels so good at this angle. It’s hitting all the right spots, making your walls flutter and drip. His big hands dig into the bruised, torn skin of your ass, making you whimper.

“Choke me harder,” you beg hazily.

“I could fucking kill you so easily,” he snarls, out loud this time. His low voice makes you shiver.

“Shit,” you whimper; the threat has your pussy tightening up, has the tension building again.

He bares his teeth and wraps his tail tighter around your neck. You choke, watching fearfully as the end of it extends outward. A barb forms on the end of it again, and he brings it right to your jugular, presses it against the skin there like a dagger.

“Are you really gonna kill me?” you shudder.

The barb at the end of his tail presses harder against your skin.

“Only if you squirm too much,” he sneers, frowning when you still in fear. “What the fuck are you waiting for?”

So you continue to fuck him, bouncing on his lap with fearful tears streaming down your face and the sharp edge of his barbed tail pressing into your jugular. It breaks the skin, digs in slightly. You feel it burrow under your skin, feel him leeching the blood from your veins, drinking it through his tail.

You let out a horrified little scream; he laughs, watching you get more light headed by the second from the blood loss.

When he’s finally had enough of your blood to whet his appetite — or maybe a little too much, judging by the way you blink fuzzily at him as you ride his cock — he takes the barb out of your neck, watching a little blood spill down your throat right after he does.

He’s so high on the taste of your blood now. He feels euphoric. Hazy. He can taste all of your fear in it: it’s amplified hundreds of times, a drug he can never get enough of.

His head is still swimming when he feels you push his chest back and downward. He doesn’t know why, but he submits — giving, letting you push him back onto the bed. As you lean over him, a few droplets of blood drip from the wound on your neck. His tongue slithers out of his mouth to catch them midair.

He lets out a hazy, pleasured shudder as you position yourself on top of him. With one hand spanning over your hip, he brings the other to your pussy. He rests his thumb on your clit —  which is still slippery with his cum — and starts to deliver little shocks to it every few seconds.

You shudder, squat over him, drop down on his dick. He keeps shocking you, feeling you get wetter and wetter.

He’s always been the one in control. So he’s never seen something like this: the way your tits bounce as you drop onto his dick, then come back up. The blood drips from the wound on your neck, rolls down in little droplets as you fuck him. He squeezes his hands around your hips, digs his claws into your skin again.

He zaps your clit, over and over and over. And then, when you’re sobbing and shaking from the overstimulation, he grits his teeth and steadies you on top of him so he can drill up into you. He’s getting close again, feeling how sloppy and full you are inside, feeling a little of the cum from his last load spurt out each time he thrusts into you.

Lightning strikes outside the window several times. He picks up the pace, slams his dick into you. The bed groans beneath the two of you, creaking from the force of his thrusts.

As he starts to fuck you harder and harder, panting heavily, the walls in your room start to rattle.

“Cum in me, please,” you beg shakily, barely able to get a word out between his violent thrusts.

If you really want it that bad, I’ll fucking plug you full of it, comes his voice.

Several of the framed photos on your walls rattle, then drop to the ground; the glass shatters, and you flinch. He’s starting to really lose control now, plunging his dick up into you violently, tossing his head back onto the shredded sheets with his teeth bared.

He teleports you both into a new position; you’re on your hands and knees now, and he’s bent over you from behind, shoving his tongue inside your mouth as he plunges his dick into you. His tongue elongates again, slithers down your throat until you’re gagging.

Another picture crashes to the ground; thunder booms overhead, and your bed is starting to vibrate.

As he’s rutting his dick into your pussy doggystyle, shoving his tongue further down your throat with his clawed hand wrapped around your neck, his tail starts to snake around to the front of his body. It transforms as it does; the barb disappears, and it becomes smooth and thick.

Your bed is shaking; the wind outside is howling, the rain crashing down on the roof of your house.

He keeps fucking your mouth and your pussy, brutally, and then you feel the smooth sensation of his tail prodding at your ass. You groan and gag around his tongue as he forces his tail into your ass. Then it grows, gets bigger, stretches your ass out until both of your holes are impossibly full of him.

While his dick is pounding into your cum-drenched pussy, his tail starts to move in and out of your ass, quick and deep. He’s filling up all of you: your mouth, your pussy, your ass, stuffing you deep from everywhere.

You groan around his tongue. The way he’s filling you up everywhere is so good, and it’s going to push you over soon.

Who do you belong to? comes his hazy, curious voice in your mind.

As if he hasn’t already claimed every inch of you, inside and out.

You, you say, in your head — unable to choke out anything around his tongue.

That’s right, he says. And now I’m going to make you mine forever.

He shudders, feels the blood starting to gorge at the base of his dick. The knot forming there keeps getting thicker and thicker inside of you, stretching you out even further than you already are. And then it’s expanding — getting you so full you think he might rip you apart. Your pussy clenches around him; you whimper.

He brings his free hand to your clit and sends a jolt through it. It’s that stimulation, combined with the over-full sensation of his expanded tail fucking your gaping ass and his tongue fucking your throat that does it for you. You start to cum on him again.

He pants as your sloppy walls squeeze around his knot. Then he’s fucking it into you, just a little bit further, letting the feeling of your pussy push him over. His stomach clenches up, and then the tension releases as the cum starts to spurt out of his dick and into your pussy. He shocks your clit with his hand, keeps your orgasm going as you shake.

As he drains himself inside of you, lightning keeps striking outside every few seconds. Thunder sounds right overhead, shaking the room. Things start to fly around the two of you: books crash off the shelves and onto the opposite wall; your bedside table falls over, clattering to the floor. His wings extend outward, and seem to grow until they’re filling up your entire room, flapping in the air and creating a contained whirlwind, blasting objects off of your shelves.

He pants into your mouth as he continues to cum and fuck his knot into you, dragging it against your sloppy, creamy walls. His tail plunges further into your ass; his tongue extends further down your throat.

There’s an impossible amount of cum shooting inside of you: more and more of it filling you up, hot and sticky. You were already stuffed full, but now, with his knot plugging you up, the cum has nowhere else to go but further in. Deeper. You feel it all pool inside of you, until your stomach is bulging outward, swollen with it. And he’s still cumming.

Outside, the storm rages harder. Lightning strikes right outside of your window, and the gnarled old tree there catches fire. He delivers an intense shock to your clit, right before the large glass window facing the blazing tree bursts. The glass blows in; his wings envelop the two of you, and you hear the glass tinkle off of them and fall to the floor.

And then, as he shudders behind you, the two of you ride out the most intense wave of pleasure at the same time. He spills the rest of his cum inside of your clenching pussy, then retracts his tongue and his tail, collapsing on top of you.

STEP 4: THE NEGOTIATION.

The two of you lay peacefully, listening to the patter of the rain on the rooftop soften. He’s in his human form again — aside from his wings, which are draped over the two of you like a cocoon. You’re wrapped up in his arms, with your face nuzzled against his neck.

You move your head back slightly to peer up at him. The storm has calmed now; the moon shines through the window, illuminating his beautiful face.

You wish you could stay here forever.

“You don’t have to stay in this form, you know,” you say. “I like you either way.”

He smiles and pulls you flush against him.

“There’s really no one like you, y/n,” he says quietly, with a little bitterness creeping into his voice. Even though you’ve given him some of your fear and your blood and bought him a little time here, it’s not much.

You look up at him, frowning at his tone. “You’re not just going to get me pregnant with the antichrist and leave, are you?” you ask jokingly.

“I’ll be honest,” he says softly, pulling your head into his neck, so he doesn’t have to look at your hopeful face, because it hurts to know that he has to leave. “I’ve never known of a union between a human and a demon actually taking. So I don’t think you have to actually worry about the antichrist. He’s not scheduled for another couple hundred of years, anyway.”

“Oh,” you snort. For whatever reason, you’re bitter.

Well, you know the reason. The reason is this: when you said you wanted to be his, you were telling the truth.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Is it because you guys usually kill people afterward? Is that why it doesn’t take?”

“Well, biologically or whatever, I guess it just doesn’t really tend to work,” he laughs. “But yeah, I’m sure the killing is a part of it,” he grins.

“You didn’t kill me, though,” you say seriously.

He’s quiet for a second, holding you to his chest. He doesn’t have a heartbeat; it’s quiet inside of him. But his thoughts are loud. For once, his feelings are loud.

Feelings, he thinks. That’s something that humans deal with. That’s not something he’s ever had to worry about.

Now it’s all he’s worrying about.

“I don’t think I could,” he says softly.

You squeeze your arms around him.

Feelings, he thinks, again. How is he capable of this?

“Y/n,” he chokes, feeling the heart he doesn’t have breaking. “I want to stay here with you.”

“So stay,” you say, simply and hopefully.

“I can’t,” he says. “Not for much longer. My time on earth is running out.”

“Can I just summon you again?”

“Probably not for a while.”

“A while?”

“Yeah, maybe a couple of decades.”

To him, that’s a split second. But you feel like your heart is ripping out of your chest.

“Why?” you plead.

He shrugs, frowning. “That’s just how it is.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you croak quietly against his neck. “You were right. There’s nothing here for me. Nothing but you.”

“You have to banish me soon,” he chokes. “If I stay past the limit, I might lose control and hurt you.”

But I’m all alone,” you say softly.

Heartbreak. Grief. Longing. Need. Things he’s heard about humans feeling — he thinks he knows what these things are now. He thinks he knows what these things feel like now.

Love. Maybe he knows what that feels like now, too.

“Please don’t leave me,” you say softly against his throat. You’re thinking of life before him. Of being alone. Of not belonging anywhere, or with anyone. That’s all you’ve felt for a long time.

“I thought you said I could be yours forever,” you say sadly.

For a split second, he wishes he could go back to the time before he knew what feelings were. But if he did that, he’d have never felt all of these things for you. And he decides that feeling love is worth all of the other things that come with it, even the pain.

“You are mine forever,” he says softly. “Even if we don’t see each other again for a long time, y/n. Even if we never see each other again, you’ll have been mine, and you always will be. I’ll never find anyone else like you. Not up here, not down there, not anywhere.”

You start to cry, thinking about how cruel this world is to you, and how cruel it always has been. Finally, you belong somewhere — to someone. But you can’t have him.

“Why do we have to be apart?” you ask desperately. “I don’t want to be apart.”

“Me neither,” he says, pulling back to look at your face.

His citrine eyes — the same ones that scared you at first with their frigidity and inhumanity — are, somehow, so human now. So full of pain.

Why do we have to be apart? He can hear that question echoing through your mind, over and over.

Why? He thinks about that. Even if the couple decades that pass before you can summon him again are a split second to him, it’s a split second he’d rather spend with you.

So he thinks about how he can keep you with him instead. Because, if he’s honest, he doesn’t want to go a split second without you. He doesn’t think that he can.

“Isn’t there a way?”

He looks at your hopeful expression.

There is a way.

He’s apprehensive about it. He’s only heard of it being done a few times before, and he doesn’t know if it will even work. It’s dangerous. For him, though; not for you.

And, because of the fact that he knows you’ll be safe either way, he decides that he wants to try. He’s lived for thousands of years now; if something goes wrong, and if this is how he’s going to go, he thinks that he can die happily. That’s more than he can say for anyone else of his kind.

“There’s a method,” he says quietly, feeling a clenching in his chest when your face brightens. “I’ve only known of it being done a few times.”

You nod.

“It’ll only work if our blood is compatible.”

“Compatible?”

“Yeah. ‘Meant to be.’ I think that’s what you guys would call it up here.”

Meant to be — that’s sure what this feels like to you. And you don’t ask what would happen if you’re not meant to be, because that possibility doesn’t even cross your mind. You know you’re meant to be, just like you know that you don’t belong up here — especially not without him.

“What is it?” you say, wide-eyed. “Please. I’ll do it. Can we do it?”

He smiles, fails to mention that if his plan doesn’t work, it’ll end his life. But he’s willing to bet everything on that simple fact: that the two of you are meant to be. He’d bet his life on it.

“Yes, y/n,” he says, wrapping your hand up in his as hope floods your eyes. “We can do it, if you’re willing to come back home with me.”

You let out a little sob, nodding quickly. “Of course.”

He squeezes your hand. “In the thousands of years I’ve been alive, I’ve never met someone like you. And you don’t belong up here, changing yourself for these people who don’t understand you. It’s not your fault that they don’t understand. It’s theirs. You don’t have to be up here. You don’t have to be alone.”

You choke out a sob.

“So you’ll come with me?” he asks hopefully.

“Please,” you say, looking up at his very desperate, very human eyes. “I want to be yours forever,” you say quietly.

“I want to be yours, too.”

STEP 5: THE BANISHING.

The two of you teleport, hand-in-hand, into the middle of the summoning circle — the only place on the ground that isn’t covered in broken glass.

He squeezes your hand and looks down at you, offering you a kind smile. You reciprocate it; you’re shaky, jittering. Excited for what’s to come.

He doesn’t know if this is the end for him. But if it is, he thinks that it’ll be okay for his last moment to be this.

He twists to face you, keeping your hand in his. He lifts his free hand up, and an ancient-looking dagger appears in it suddenly, its form flickering until it’s solid. He squeezes your hand softly, then turns his palm up, gesturing for you to do the same. You obey, turning your palm upward on top of his. He cradles it gently, then brings the dagger to your skin, hovering it there.

“Can I?”

“Of course you can.”

He draws the blade across your skin, etches a strange symbol there. Then he lets go of your hand to drag the dagger across his own palm, etching the same symbol on his hand.

He holds his hand out for yours once again, and you give it to him, let him cradle your wounded hand in his. You look up at him, wide-eyed, with your heart in your throat. He looks gravely — vulnerably — down at you, squeezing your hand as your blood drips into his wound.

As soon as your blood mixes with his, it takes.

He can feel it, the moment that it does. His face breaks into a brilliant smile that you could only describe as uniquely human. A tear rolls down your cheek, and your heart soars, right before the room around you warps and bursts into brilliant flame: breathtaking, impossible hues of pink, yellow, and red.

Your mouth drops open, and he thinks that maybe he should look at the amazing spectacle surrounding the two of you, but he can’t look away from your face. It’s alright; he can see every beautiful tongue of flame reflected in your awestruck eyes.

It doesn’t compare to you, anyway.

He’s already said it, but he thinks it again: you’re like no one else. Not up here — and not down there, either.

Outside of your house, above and around this brilliant wall of flame, the lightning storm surges again. The dagger disappears from his hand, and he takes your free hand in his, looking down at your wide, teary eyes.

Yeah, he thinks. This is exactly what love must feel like.

Lightning strikes the ground just a few feet away from the two of you, and you look over in wonderment as the ground cracks, parting to reveal a massive, fiery crevice in the earth. You smell your old house burning. It’s a cleansing smell. Freeing.

“Are you ready?” he asks, raising his voice as the tongues of flame crackle up the walls in your room.

You gulp, and nod.

“Don’t be scared, y/n.” he says. “I have you. I’ll protect you. Always. Forever.”

“I know.”

“Oh,” he grins. “I almost forgot.”

You feel a strange sensation on your body, and look downward to find that you’re in a beautiful black dress. It looks like it must be hundreds of years old. The lace on the sleeves is delicate and intricate; the bottom poofs out below the corset top, wedding-dress style.

“Wow,” you say quietly.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

“I love it,” you say, examining the sleeves closely.

“I thought you would.”

When you look up, he’s grinning, holding your tarantula’s cage in his hand. “You almost forgot this little dude.”

“Betty!” you cry, taking her cage from him and inspecting her through the glass, relieved to find that she seems fine. “I can’t believe I almost forgot her.”

He laughs. “Anything else before we go?”

“Yeah,” you say. “You. The real you.”

“Okay,” he smiles.

He transforms for you, drops his guise to show you himself. You look upward at his massive figure fondly. Everything is the same as the last time you saw him in this form, except for his eyes. They’re not blacked out anymore; they’re still that pretty, human gold, and full of emotion.

You think that you’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

Then he draws you close with a big, clawed hand, scooping you up in his massive arms princess-style. Around you, the massive flames start to engulf the roof of your house.

“Well, princess,” comes his deep, multi-toned voice as he approaches the edge of the fiery hole in the ground. He looks down at you, casting you a wide, toothy grin. “Our kingdom awaits.”

“Show me,” you say.

And then you’re falling, down and down and down, into the beginning of forever.

♱♱♱

We could stay alone together

You and me, always, forever

Say you’ll stay, never be separate

END NOTES

part names (the circle, etc.) are steps in a summoning ritual

closing lyrics are from the song always forever by cults

a huge thank you, of course, to my co-author allie (who i basically modeled yn after in this fic…..teehee), and also to my other friends who let me ramble about this fic to them !!

it has been a journey to write this fic, thank you so very much for taking the time out of your day to read!!

[elysianightsss]

Roommate!Techno x Camgirl!Reader

I’m not listening

Warnings: swearing, more characters than usual, 18+

“Where did you get that?” He asks gripping his cereal bowl so fucking hard trying not to drop it, but he felt weak all over seeing you wearing his shirt.

That stupid shirt that has ‘I’m not listening’ printed on the front, he remembers when Phil gifted it to him on his birthday saying it was perfect for him. It had been stretched around his chest and arms where Techno had bulked out throughout high school and now Uni.

“It was in my washing pile, I thought it looked familiar.” You smiled oh so sweetly, he gripped the porcelain so tight he thought it would shatter. “You don’t mind right?” You ask slipping on your slippers to go run the trash downstairs.

You blink up at him because one of his hands had curved around your arm, he looked shocked at his own actions immediately letting go. The top of his ears turning red as he mutters “at least put some shorts on underneath.” before rushing into his room.

“What was that?” You frown with confusion, quick to shake it away grab the trash and exit apartment 20. His shirt, even though it had been in the wash, reeked of him. His fucking delicious smell that you wanted to roll around in. His shirt fucking reeked of it.

You got to the room for the trash shoot- “Fuck. Fuck my life.” You huffed seeing a line of other students just waiting to shove their trash bags down the shoot.

“That’s what we get for living in a building basically known for uni students.” Alexia rolled her eyes resting her head on your shoulder as you nodded. Her messy bun making yours messier, she looked like she couldn’t be bothered to wear anything except George’s shirt and leggings.

“Who’s shirt is that?” Violet, who looked the spitting imagine of the raven haired superhero from the fucking incredibles, said. Gum being stretched with her pretty porcelain teeth. Her manicured fingers tapping away at her phone.

“Why do you care?” You raise your eyebrows looking at the green t-shirt with a smiley face she wore.

“Why are you being so touchy?” Dream laughed slinging his arm around Violet. Her face scrunching up in disgust, pushing his arm off her and cutting the line.

“Hey!” Dream pouts, “she’ll be mine.” He winks at you and Alexia before running after her.

“First of all, ew, second of all, ew.” Zan mutters, her head resting on your other shoulder. Zan’s light blue braided hair went right down to her waist, you lived for her brightly coloured fashion and her beautiful dark skin. She looked like a boss ass bitch all the time.

“Who’s shirt are you wearing?” Zan frowns trying to recall ever seeing you in something like that before but coming up short.

“Techno’s.” You mumble so quietly that you silently hope they didn’t hear you, but with the way both their heads sprung up. You know they did.

“Tec-“ You shush them both with a light hit to their stomachs.

“Drop it.”

He let you keep it, honestly he would be too shy to ask for it back if he even wanted to which he doesn’t. Seeing you in his clothing had his sweatpants tightening.

Techno flushed like a tomato seeing you wear it in the beginning of one of your streams, you knew it was risky but you were in one of your moods where the words ‘who cares�� floated around your head. He was so busy staring he almost screamed when his dorm mate from last year Schlatt called him and freaked out on the phone.

“Bro isn’t that your shirt! I fucking swear you have one just like it!” He shouted, Techno just knows if he lived in cartoon world the phone would be vibrating in his hand at how loud Schlatt was talking.

“They make more than one shirt J.” Techno tried his best to show he was rolling his eyes through his voice.

“But it has the same paint stain from when we painted George’s moms house in tenth grade-“

“It’s just a coincidence man, why are you watching this anyway didn’t Stacy bust you for watching shit like this?” Techno puts Schlatt on speaker and pulls off his shirt checking out his muscle progress in the mirror before pulling a new one on.

“Stacy smacy! I can do whatever I want!” Schlatt grumbles at the sound of his on again off again girlfriend who he’s actually pussywhipped for “Fuck, I’m going to the gym!” The beep beep beep of Schlatt hanging up sounded in the room, letting the sound of your gorgeous moans ring in Techno’s ears.

Tags:

@victory-is-here

@streamer-vulpecula

@cherryblossomdelusion

@angelicadiabolus

[dilf-whore]

Hi I was wondering if you would do a billy x shy/quiet!reader

Can do what ever you want just som fluff please

Hope you have a good day/night🤍

the prize

pairing: billy hargrove x gn!reader

genre: established relationship ,fluff

summary: billy being a show off lol

A/N: i hope i was able to write it according to your request, please do let me know! i hope you guys like this, comments are welcome btw. send in requests or talk to me through my inbox, i really enjoy talking with you guys ❤️‍🔥

requested: yes

requests are OPEN

masterlist

・°☆

You hold on to Billy’s hand as you walk through the carnival. You spot a plushie of your favorite cartoon character, Chilly Willy the penguin hanged on one of the games. Your boyfriend notices you staring and follow where you’re looking at, a smirk form on his lips as he pulls you to the game, “I’m gonna win you Chilly Willy” he winks. The man managing the game gives him eight darts and if he gets to hit eight red balloons, you could get the prize you want. Billy grabs the darts and places a quick peck on your cheeks, “for luck” he says - making you cover your warm cheek with your hand. 

Billy loves the way you react to the small things he do like whenever you’d cover your face when he compliments you, or whenever you hide beside him when he introduces you to new people. It boosts his ego honestly, seeing how he manages to make you all flustered and speechless. Especially when you cling into him when you get shy. At the same time it also makes his heart flutter seeing you do these things. 

He takes one dart from his other palm and aims at one of the red balloons, he throws it and hits the balloon. A group of kids approaches the game and claps, “wow!” they exclaim. Billy chuckles softly and looks back at you, “watch me baby”.

This boy is gonna be the fucking death of me.

The crowd of kids jump and cheer on your boyfriend who popped all the red balloons. The man gives him the Chilly Willy plushie and Billy turns to you, “for you” he says, playfully bowing as he lends you the stuffed toy. 

“You did it! You got the prize!” a little boy applauses. Billy wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to him, “this right here is the real prize, kid”. You hide your face on the plushie - face and ears turning red , he’s just so obsess with showing you off to everyone.

You both wave the kids goodbye and continue to walk around the carnival. You lay your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder and lift Chilly Willy up, “thank you for winning me this”. 

“Anything for you”

・°☆

[tbmunson]

🥺💖💞 + 🤩🤲 🍷✨

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

Small accidental touches, quick meaningful glances, little smiles and inside jokes. Any type of small intimate moment that lets you know everything is going to be okay bo matter what else is going on around you.

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

So complementing myself is difficult but I feel like I’m fairly good with describing situations. Setting the scene.

🍷 Do you drink and write?

I haven’t, but the more I think about it, the more I think a glass of wine would open my mind up and help my ideas flow better without me overthinking everything.

💖 What made you start writing?

I started on wattpad, just reading. Then I got inspired and started writing on there. I had a Niall fic way back in the day that actually got pretty decent stats and a good following before I deleted it, having lost motivation and plot. After that I found tumblr and imagines and blurbs and I ran with it. I could write what I want when I wanted and it didn’t have to fit with what I just wrote. I never actually posted anything on here until a couple months ago.

💞 Who's your comfort character?

Where do I start? Spencer Reid, Glenn Rhee, Draco Malfoy, George Weasley, Remus Lupin, JJ Maybank, Eddie Munson, Gareth Emerson, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Tate Langdon, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Stiles Stilinsky, Jasper Hale, Alice Cullen, Sam and Dean Winchester, Duncan from Total Drama Island (my first cartoon love and I will not take any shit for that) that’s all I can think of off the top of my head. There’s more for sure.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

Gareth I think? I say I think because it depends on the plot of what I’m writing, mostly. I think Gareth is the easiest to write for because we didn’t get to see near enough of him so we can make him into who we want for the most part and no one can argue what’s canon and what’s not.

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

This is from a Robin x Fem!Reader thing I’m doing for October.

"You make really pretty sounds, baby." You cooed, dropping a hand to her side.

She blushed bright red and ducked her head into the crook of your neck. "Shut up." She whined, shaking her head.

You laughed lightly, wrapping your arms around her body. "Don't be embarrassed. I like hearing you, okay? It's so pretty."

She took this opportunity to press kisses to your neck and take in the sounds you made. She layed you back gently, hovering over you as she kissed your skin. "You're right, it is pretty." She smirked. Her hand skated up your torso, getting closer to your boobs when her door flung open.

"Hey, I brought snacks and a mov- What the fuck?" Steve's voice broke the two of you aparts quickly.

"Steve! What are you doing here?" She asked, helping pull your shirt back down.

"I came over because you said Y/N was coming and I thought we could hang out and watch movies! I didn't know this was happening!" He covered his face with one hand, shaking the bag filled with snacks with the other for emphasis.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 3) - A Moment

Summary: Jensen is away from home for a few days but isn’t having the easiest time being away from the kids for the first time since the accident. When he returns home, he has a gala to attend on Saturday night but a kiss on the cheek and slip of the tongue will snowball into the reader and Jensen sharing a moment...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,100ish

Warnings: language, death of a spouse, death of a parent, anxiety, self-worth problems, referenced past harassment

A/N: I love this part so much for so many reasons. Please enjoy!

________

“Hi Jensen,” you asked Monday night when your phone rang. “How was your flight earlier?”

“Same old same old. I just got out of work,” he said with a yawn. “Gonna grab a bite out with a friend. Kids eat dinner okay?”

“We had honey sriracha glazed salmon with brussel sprouts and roasted red potatoes.”

“Really?”

“They had kraft mac and cheese and I had Taco Bell.”

“See this is why I like you,” he chuckled.

“I’ll try the salmon again tomorrow. I was gonna make it but they didn’t have any at the store,” you said, opening the fridge and taking out a pint of ice cream. “Hey can I have what’s left of this mint ice cream?”

“Sure. Pick some more up for me sometime before friday please,” he said. “Also, Taco Bell? You do realize we live in freaking Austin right. There are literally hundreds of places you can go that have better mexican food.”

“Yeah but fake cheese tastes good,” you said. He laughed and your stomach rumbled. “I so should have gotten more than two tacos.”

“You in the kitchen?” he asked. You hummed and you heard him let out an oof in the background.

“Yeah. You alright?”

“This bed in my hotel room is comfy,” he said. “But I was starting to say, go in the drawer at the end of the counter by the table. There’s only five hundred gajillion take out menus in there. Order a treat for yourself. It’s on me.”

“Jensen. I can get my own dinner.”

“True but you’re on call 24/7 until I get back.”

“Well in that case I bet you got a menu for a fancy steakhouse in here somewhere,” you teased as you picked up one for a tex mex looking restaurant. “Does this place really have quesadillas this big?”

“You must be looking at the menu on top. I almost ordered from there last week actually. The food’s great. They do delivery too. Just buzz the guy into the gate when they get there.”

“Any recommendations?” you asked, taking out the menu and flipping it over.

“Quesadillas are good. Loaded nachos are amazing. I’ve literally never had a bad thing from there,” he said. “To be honest I’d rather be getting that than where I’m going tonight.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, reading through your options, surprised to find such good prices.

“I have to wear a suit,” he said with a sigh. “After being poked and prodded all day I literally would rather just eat crap and watch food network.”

“How long have you known this friend of yours?” you asked.

“Twenty years, why?”

“Then you guys knew each other when you were young. It’s not too late out there. Call him, see if he’d rather get some crap food, a six pack and just catch up on his couch or in your room. I’m pretty sure he’s more looking forward to seeing an old friend again than the food,” you said.

“You make very good points. I should pay you more,” he said.

“You pay me plenty and barely let me spend a dime of my money on myself,” you said. “I don’t need more.”

“You got that fancy computer though.”

“You literally have the exact same mac in your office.”

“You moved in like three boxes and two computers,” he said.

“An ipad is not a computer,” you said.

“Debatable.”

“Well I like to draw sometimes and it’s easier on an ipad when you’re laying in bed,” you said. 

“Are you any good?” he asked.

“No.”

“I bet they’re really good,” he said as you rolled your eyes. “I see you draw with the kids sometimes and those are good.”

“It’s a hobby is all,” you said, leaning back against the counter, your stomach grumbling again. “Anything else you want me to grab at the store? I’m going to hit it tomorrow while everyone’s at school.”

“Nah. Get the usual stuff,” he said. “The kiddos in bed?”

“Yeah, got the last one down about fifteen minutes ago,” you said. He hummed and you heard the sigh in it. “I got a video of them playing earlier I’ll send you.”

“Thanks. It’s my first night away from them in a long time. Normally I’m able to come back same day. I was kinda hoping they’d still be awake to say goodnight.”

“They’re safe and sound dad. We’ll call again after school tomorrow to talk like today,” you said.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. He was quiet and you pulled the phone away, taking a deep breath. 

“You okay?” 

“I haven’t been alone like this in a really long time.”

“I know. You check out your backpack yet?”

“No. Why?”

“You didn’t bring a jacket with you so I put that yellow hoodie that’s always on the hook in there in case you got cold.”

“That was Dee’s hoodie.”

“I was pretty sure it was,” you said. You heard him shuffle around briefly before he hummed, much happier that time. “I thought you might like to have a piece of...something-”

“I really don’t pay you enough,” he said quietly. “Thanks for putting this in there. I need something from home more than I realized.”

“Well put it on, call up your buddy and have some fun tonight, Ackles. Nanny’s orders.” He laughed and you felt that twinge in your stomach again, your eyes quickly closing.

“I will. Hey you mind if I call again tomorrow night? I don’t have any plans and sitting in a hotel room by myself isn’t very fun.” You smiled and felt heat in your cheeks, quickly thinking it away. He wanted company for a few minutes was all and you were friends. It was completely normal to talk with friends on the phone everyday.

“Of course. As long as you get a dinner in at some point that’s more than fine with me,” you said. “We can talk about The Bachelor!”

“Oh God no,” he groaned, chuckling after a few seconds. “I’ll settle for Grey’s Anatomy.”

“This Is Us?” you asked.

“Supernatural?”

“I haven’t watched that yet. I’m working up to it,” you said. 

“Work faster woman. I only know legit everything about that one,” he chuckled. “But probably not a good idea to watch that one until I get back and you're not alone. First episode is kinda scary.”

“Oh well thanks for that,” you said, watching the clock tick by, knowing it had to be almost seven out there. “I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight Jensen.”

“I will Y/N. Promise.”

Friday Night

“Arrow,” you said after she’d flung her pasta bowl all over herself, covering her hair and face. She sniffled and you forced a smile. “Okay. How about a bath after dinner?”

Fifteen minutes later JJ and Zeppelin were in the movie room watching a cartoon while you had Arrow in the kids bathroom, scooping up some water over her head in the tub.

“Well hello ladies,” you heard behind you. You jumped and spun around, glaring for a moment before you recognized Jensen.

“Just me,” he said, backpack still on his shoulders. 

“Daddy I got ziti all over my head,” she said.

“You did?” he asked, dropping his bag and taking off his jacket, kneeling down next to you. You got the last bit of sauce off and squirted some shampoo in her hair, Jensen watching you with a smile. “How was your day?”

She told him all about breakfast and daycare, playing with a few toy boats with him while you rinsed out the soap. You did a bit of conditioner before getting it out as well and putting the spray nozzle back.

“I got the rest if you wanna get the dryer ready?” he asked you, reaching for the soap. You swapped spots with him, Jensen washing her up while she kept talking about her day. By the time he was all done you had the dryer out and plugged in, Jensen picking her up and wrapping her up in a big bundle of towels before he set her on the counter. You went to work drying her hair, Jensen draining the tub and finding some pajamas for her.

“Do you want your hair up or down, sweetie?” you asked. She tried gathering it up and you grabbed her soft scrunchie perfectly fine for sleeping in from the counter. You put her hair up in a soft little bun, Jensen making an adorable sound when he returned.

“Aw, you look so cute, baby. I’ll be right there alright?” he said. She hopped off the counter and got dressed, rushing off downstairs when she was all done. “Survive the day?”

“Somehow we always do,” you said, gathering up the towels. “Kids are in the movie room.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna shower but we’re all good for the night,” he said. “Thanks for watching them this week.”

“You gotta go do your job,” you said. “You working on a movie or something? You never said.”

“Uh gonna be in a show called The Boys,” he said. “I’m gonna be one of the superheroes so I gotta go out and get my suit made all special for me every so often.”

“You’re gonna be a supe! That’s so fucking cool!” you said. He grinned and you blushed, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so not appropriate.”

“I don’t see any little ears around,” he chuckled. “You like the show then?”

“Yeah. It’s great. Like no other show consistently makes me go what the fuck did I just see. That’s so cool you get to be a supe though. Are you a one off or like a main character?”

“I’ll be very present in the next season. Gonna deal with the seven, all that,” he said. “I’m gonna be Solider Boy.”

“I can see that. You have that all American boy thing about you.”

“It’s my adorable face,” he teased. 

“Well remember to not stay up too late. You have the gala tomorrow night remember?”

“Yes mom,” he said as you walked out. “Get the kids some takeout for dinner tomorrow and yourself.”

“Sounds good boss,” you said. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

The Next Night

You froze from where you were mixing up some brownie batter with JJ at the kitchen counter as Jensen popped downstairs. He was in a gorgeous black suit, a maroon pocket square and no tie going on, his hair scruffier looking than normal.

He started to laugh and you realized you were staring, your cheeks feeling hot as you went back to stirring.

“Mmm, you guys save me a brownie or two for when I get home?” he asked, leaning over and dipping his finger in the bowl of cream cheese frosting.

“We’ll spare one for dad,” you said, Jensen going back for seconds. “Ah, ah. No.”

He dipped his finger in and got another fingerful, kissing the top of JJ’s head and the twins at the counter.

“Be good for Y/N guys!” he called as he rushed out.

You whistled and he jogged back, catching you holding up his phone from the counter.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it and pecking a kiss on your cheek. You looked up at him and he froze. “I am so sorry. I…”

“It’s okay. Go have fun and be all charitable,” you said. He shoved his phone in his pocket and ran out, JJ scratching her head.

“Dad’s kinda weird sometimes,” she said.

“Yeah, he is. But so is everybody,” you said. “Let’s get this in the oven so you guys can pick out colors for your frosting, hm?”

“I really shouldn’t. But I really should,” you said to yourself, plopping your second brownie of the night in a bowl and sticking a scoop of ice cream on top. You carried it over to the couch and lay back, watching TV on the big screen as you heard the door open. Jensen came into view a minute later, taking his jacket off and groaning as he washed up at the sink. He went to the tray of brownies on the counter and picked one up with a big sigh. “Fun night?”

He jumped and whacked his head against the cabinet above, hissing before he spun around.

“You okay?” you asked. He nodded and left the brownie behind, pushing his sleeves up before taking a seat on the other end of the lounger.

“Y/N I’m really sorry about the kiss on the cheek. That was so inappropriate. You’ve kinda implied that there was some stuff that’s happened to you at other jobs you found over the line and I’m really truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I wasn’t...I forgot you’re my employee for a moment. I really am sorry.”

“Jensen if I had a problem with it or you or your behavior I would quit on the spot. I don’t let myself get pushed around anymore. You were happy and busy and you pecked a kiss on my cheek, not reach a hand down my pants. It’s really okay. You’re way too hard on yourself.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive. It’s barely ten which means you left as soon as you could. You’re supposed to be out having fun,” you said.

“I was kinda freaking out that you hated me,” he said.

“Dude you gotta relax,” you said. “Have a brownie and some ice cream.”

He got up and after a minute took a seat at the other end with a bowl of his own, smiling as he got a taste.

“This is fucking awesome,” he said.

“I know,” you said, Jensen smirking. “Do you feel better now silly boy? I promise that if you ever do anything I find inappropriate I will promptly kick you in the balls.”

“I can agree to that,” he said. He ate for a moment, watching the TV and laying back. “Do you ever like, want to go do things with your friends on a Saturday night? If you do that’s totally cool. These aren’t normal hours anyways.”

“Being a nanny eats up a lot of your social life,” you said. “Kinda got kicked out of my friend group after I broke up with my ex anyways.”

“Well they sound like they suck,” he said.

“Yes, they do,” you said. “I don’t mind so much. I meet plenty of new people through work. Only person you can depend on is yourself and I don’t tend to let myself down.”

“That’s a very lonely way to go through life,” he said.

“It’s not easy to make friends in your thirties,” you said. “Maybe for someone like you who travels and meets new people a lot and stuff but you have like, real friendships. You know?”

“Well we have a real friendship, don’t we? You’re friends with Jared and Rob and Ruthie and Rich,” he said. “I don’t trust just anybody with my kids. That’s real.”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a bite. “So when’s your friend free?”

“Hm?”

“Blind date guy. Maybe he could be a friend if things work out,” you said.

“Oh yeah. He uh, he actually got a gig up in Canada so you might need to wait like a month or so. But he’s excited to meet you,” said Jensen.

“Can I have his number?” you asked. “Or do you think that’d be weird?”

“No, not weird. I think he just kinda wants to do it old school if that’s okay. Meet you first and go from there.”

“This friend of yours better be like super hot,” you said.

“If it’s a problem-“

“I can respect him wanting to do things like that. But I’m gonna want a firm date soon,” you said.

“I’ll make sure to get you one,” he said. “I’ll get it down tomorrow, promise.”

“He better not mind me eating like this either. I ain’t a salad on the first date kinda girl. He’s gonna need to keep up with my eating while were at it,” you said. He snorted in his seat beside you and ran his hand over his face.

“I will keep that in mind. I have occasionally had dessert first truth be told,” he said.

“This is why I like you Ackles. You get my sweet tooth,” you laughed.

“It’s a good thing your dinners are healthy cause I swear I haven’t consumed this many baked goods in months,” he said. “The kids love it and my stomach loves it though.”

“I’m gonna need to start working out though if I keep this up. Oh hey is it okay if I do laps in the pool in the mornings? I’ll be super quiet and stuff.”

“You don’t gotta ask,” he smiled. “Like I said when you started, you got free reign to use the pool, the gym, whatever, aside from my room. You a swimmer?”

“Not really but I hate running and supposedly it’s a good workout or something,” you shrugged, eating another bite of brownie.

“Anything in the gym you’re free to use. I know you must get a little bored sometimes when I’m gone and the kids are,” he said.

“Not bored per say. Ordinarily I would do more chores but you have like a cleaner and a landscaper and you just...give me more time in the day than I’m used to is all. It’s actually great though. It gives me plenty of time to come up with ideas for the kids and stuff.”

“Well as long as you’re taking breaks and your lunch do as you please,” he said, his spoon scraping the bottom of his bowl.

“Now that’s just sad.”

“I really should get another one of these,” he said, sucking the spoon.

“It’s really the only choice you have,” you said. He laughed as he hopped up, skirting back into the kitchen and fixing up another brownie and ice cream combo.

“Hey you want more, Dee?” he asked. You popped your head up and he spun around. “I’m-“

“Don't apologize, Jensen,” you said. He tapped his fingers against the counter and took a deep breath, putting his back to you.

“That’s the second time tonight I’ve done that,” he said. 

“Jensen. There’s nothing wrong with missing your wife.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“You don’t...talk about her much.”

“It was...she wasn’t…” he trailed off. He sat down on a barstool and you got up, walking over and hopping up on the counter beside him. You set your feet in the stool next to his and paused before you put a hand on top of his head and ran your fingers through the short strands. “This shouldn’t have happened to her.”

“Death is the price for living. Pain’s the price for caring. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it,” you said. You started to move your hand away when he turned his head. 

“Don’t…” he said, easing when you played with it gently again. “That’s always calmed me down since I was a little kid.”

“Someone should take care of you every once in a while you know. Your parents, siblings, friends. Everyone needs a break.”

“I had a lot of help at the beginning. I don’t need a whole day. Just a moment here and there,” he said quietly.

“It’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. He nodded and you played with his hair a few moments, watching his shoulders ease. This time when you pulled away he smiled up at you. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you. That’s not in your job description to do that sort of thing.”

“Well I think your wife would want somebody to watch your back, even for only a minute or two,” you said.

“You don’t have any brain aneurysms I should know about, do you?” he chuckled. 

“No. That what happened?” you asked, a single nod coming from him.

“She was sleeping. Not a bad way to go I was told, you’d never even know,” he said. “Not a fun thing to wake up to in the morning though.”

“My dad had a mass at the back of his head. It was that same kind of thing where one second it’s fine and the next everything’s different deal. It was inoperable. Then he goes and dies from a car accident of all things before it got bad. My mom had a hard time with that.”

“You said she had a boyfriend later on right?” he asked.

“Yeah. I know you’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. You ruffled his hair and he smiled, a soft look on his face. “Pro tip too from someone who’s been there, kids with a single parent turn out just fine.”

“Do they ever wish they had another parent?” he asked.

“They wish the parent they still have around is happy again someday. They won’t understand until they’re older that it’s a different kind of love between parents. But they’ll know it’s a little different and they’ll hope dad feels better too. Your kids are tough. They’ll be okay too.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said. You hopped off the counter and washed up your dish, sticking it in the dishwasher before you went to leave for your room. “So I gotta ask. Who takes care of you?”

“Me?” you asked, pointing to yourself. He shrugged and smiled, your gaze going past him. “I’m all good. I don’t need somebody to take care of me.”

“Liar,” he said softly. “You know my friend tells me everybody needs to be taken care of sometimes.”

“That’s the difference between us Jensen. You’re not like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed, his face scrunching up suddenly.

“It means you’re not on your own and even if you feel like it, it’s only been a little while. You’ll be okay. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a kid. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“You haven’t lived my life and I haven’t lived yours. Don’t try to tell me that I’m not capable of-”

“It’s not about what you’re capable of. You said pain is part of life, it’s the price for living. You’ve had more than your fair share-”

“Lots of people have it a lot worse.”

“Don’t compare your pain to someone else's. They haven’t lived your life,” he said. You rolled your eyes and started to walk away, Jensen out of his seat and catching up with you in the hall. “You can be taken care of too you know.”

“By who? My non-existent circle of friends? My crappy ex? My mom’s ex boyfriend who’s got his own wife and kids? I am perfectly fine managing all of this by myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“You’re so frustratingly annoying,” he said, running his hand over his face. “Me. I’m talking about me. You just...you took care of me tonight. The least I can do is show you the same compassion.��

“No,” you said.

“No? Why not?”

“Because taking care of me turns into you walking into my shower without my permission and you being a dick and this going away and I don’t want you to be those things so no. We’re getting too friendly. Please leave me alone tomorrow.”

You left him in the hall and went down to your area of the house, shutting the door after you. There was quickly a knock and you growled, ripping it open.

“What?” you snapped at him.

“I am not going to hurt you or be a dick to you or whatever else you think. You need to realize in the real world, not everyone is an asshole.”

“You’re the one not living in the real world then, Jensen. Everybody’s an asshole.”

“Fine. I’m an asshole. But I’m not leaving until you say I can take care of you tomorrow. Two minutes is all I’m asking for.”

“This is my part of the house.”

“And technically I am outside your door,” he said. “Why are you so resistant to somebody doing something nice for you?”

“Because I don’t wanna get used to it,” you said. He stared and you shook your head. “You’re attractive and an actor and kind and funny and it’s not a matter of if you date again but when and when that day comes, we ain’t gonna be sitting on the couch eating ice cream anymore. Please do not invite me to anymore outings as a friend. I’ll attend if required as a nanny but this between us is done.”

“For the record, the only one around here that thinks of you as just the hired help is you. My children are completely like their old selves. I feel more like my old self. You seem happier than when I met you but for some reason, that’s a big problem to you. I do not understand that.”

“Leave or I resign and move out first thing,” you said. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “This is my formal resignation then. The company will-”

He moved quickly and you weren’t sure what he was doing at first but soon you realized he was hugging you, your hands resting against his chest. You swallowed and he didn’t move, your forehead resting against him.

“What are you doing?” you breathed out.

“When’s the last time you got a fucking hug?” he asked.

“The kids-”

“Not the kids.”

“I don’t remember,” you said quietly. 

“Then you are overdue,” he said. You let yourself reach your arms around him and return the hug, breathing deeply, a small bubble in you rising up. You tried to push it down but it came back harder and you were fighting back tears before you knew it. 

He could feel when you lost that battle, hand rubbing up and down your back. There was a soft shushing in the air and after a few minutes you felt better. You lifted your head but didn’t look at him, Jensen squeezing you in his hug again before it eased.

“You know you’re not allowed to quit on me...like ever,” he chuckled. You let out a small laugh, Jensen smiling at you when you forced your head up. He wiped off your cheeks and you let out one last sniffle. “You’re not alone. I promise you’re not. It’s not the quantity of people you have in your life but the quality and I’m sorry but we are friends and there’s nothing you can do about that so I’d just accept it now.”

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”

“You were scared, not a bitch,” he said. “I wish I could make you happier is all.”

“I wish I could bring back your wife for you,” you said.

“One of those is a lot more possible than the other,” he said. A small smile crossed his lips before he ducked his head down, shoulders heaving back before his head raised. “Y/N, can I confess something to you? I hope...I hope it doesn’t bother you but if it does, you don’t have to continue working for me. I’d still like to be friends regardless.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked, Jensen looking past you.

“My single friend I was going to set you up with? He doesn’t exist.”

“Oh.”

“Cause he’s kinda me.”

“Oh,” you said, staring at him, a lot of his previous behavior starting to click into place. “That’s…”

“I know,” he said, stepping away and rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s weird and douchey and I’m sorry. I like you and I was trying to see if you would ever go for a 42 year old actor. I left out the widow and kids part but...I’m sorry.”

“When did you like me?” you asked quietly.

“The whole time?” he said, laughing nervously to himself. “It’s kinda snowballed since we met. I never in my life thought I’d like someone again. I didn’t want to like you. I hired you because you were the best candidate and I knew the kids would be in good hands but everyday it’s there, even more, and I know this is so inappropriate on so many levels and I’m really starting to ramble here but you make me think maybe your mom had a point and people are allowed to have...more than one…and sometimes the way you talk to me and treat me and look at me...” 

He swallowed as you stepped in front of him, taking a quick breath. 

“I will keep working for you and I’ll be your friend...and you can make me dinner tomorrow,” you said with a smile. “We’ll see where it goes from there?”

“You’re not...weirded out?” he asked.

“By your age, you’re my boss or the cheeky lying about a fake friend?” you said.

“All of the above.”

“Age doesn’t bother me. You have no idea how to be a boss, no offense, and the friend...I don’t blame you for wanting to test the waters first,” you said. “But I expect honesty from here on out.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Good,” you said.

“You do like me right?” he asked. “Like you don’t feel obligated or-”

“I like you Jensen. Why do you think I was trying to push you away before you got too close? I didn’t want to be hurt.”

“Give me a chance to not,” he said. “We can have dinner and see how it goes from there.”

“Normally the best course of action,” you said.

“But maybe with a few more hugs from now on,” he said. “For the both of us.”

“That’d be okay with me,” you said. He smiled and you returned it. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“I guess you will,” he said. He turned to go when he spun back on his heels. “Or we could go back out there, eat way too much dessert and hang out?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Give me a minute to wash up my face.”

“Take all the time you want. I’m gonna change into something more comfortable anyways.”

He left and you washed off your face in the bathroom, drying it off and taking a deep breath.

You did like him. There was something calming about him to you and you enjoyed his company, even if it was just the two of you having a quiet cup of coffee in the morning.

But he was an actor. And kinda famous. And a widow. And had three kids. 

“But your face is cute,” you said aloud, looking the mirror. “Gah, of course you have to be like...into me. Nutjob. He must be a nutjob. That’s it.”

“Y/N?” you heard him saying and you smacked yourself in the face. “Are you talking to yourself?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said, stepping out and seeing him in the hall sporting a pair of pajama pants and a t shirt. “That was fast.”

“Well I didn’t go through an eight step skin routine too,” he chuckled.

“For your information, my routine is only three steps,” you said, walking past him and waggling your fingers.

“I didn’t realize I was living with such a savage,” he said. You laughed and went back to the kitchen, making up another dish of brownie for him while he went over to where he kept his liquor. “You a bourbon kind of girl?”

“Is there any other kind?” you said.

“Touche.” He poured out two glasses and slid one over while you passed his bowl to him. “So what’s this three step routine? Do I need to up my game or what?”

“I think I need your routine, not the other way around,” you said.

“Nah. I like looking at your face more than mine. Trust me.”

“Oh. How long you been holding back those kinds of comments?” you teased.

“Longer than you’d think,” he said, sharing the bowl with you. “Feel okay now?”

“Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I cried,” you said. “Especially in front of someone.”

“A good cry session has never hurt in my experience. I’ll do it for work and stuff but normally I’m not much of one. Aside from the past six months I mean.”

“Are you ready to try this?” you asked.

“Yeah. I know I am,” he said. “I’m positive of it.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because you make me happy. You make me...want to do stuff again, believe in all the romantic...if I wasn’t ready, I’d feel guilty. But I don’t. I just know that maybe some people get more than one chance and maybe I’m one of them.”

“I know you are, whoever it ends up being,” you said.

“Are you ready to try this?”

You took a drink and bite of ice cream, pushing the bowl back.

“I miss my family,” you said. “I miss being happy. I’d like to...have someone that could take care of me for a moment every once in a while. I might mess that up sometimes but I’m willing to try.”

“Me too,” he said. “I’d expect some screw ups on this end too. I’ve been out of the dating game for a long time.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t changed all that much,” you said.

“Well I’ve never dated with kids and as a widow,” he said.

“I’m just in this for them to be honest,” you laughed. 

“I see how it is,” he said with a smirk. 

“I don’t think it’ll be as hard as you think,” you said.

“I hope not,” he said. 

“Do they know? You want to date?”

“JJ does,” he said. “She’s little but she understands that it doesn’t mean I’ll never love her mother any less. She’s been strangely okay through this whole thing aside from the first few weeks. She helps her brother and sister out more now.”

“As someone who was that kid, minus the siblings, I know they’ll be okay. She’s a great kid. I’ve met plenty of spoiled brats. Yours are not.”

“Well that might just be the second best thing I’ve heard tonight,” he said.

“Whatever was the first?” you teased, eating a spoon of ice cream.

“Oh I think you know,” he said, stealing the spoon back. You smiled and heard some feet run around upstairs before the stairs creeped and a little head ducked down into view. “Arrow. It’s bedtime sweetie.”

“I had a accident,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, honey,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Want help?” you asked.

“Sure,” he said. He scooped up Arrow on the way up the stairs, setting her down in the kids bathroom. He got some clean pajamas and you found a pair of pull ups, Arrow pouting at you. 

“I don’t need ‘em,” she said.

“Your brother wears them. I wore them and your mommy and daddy wore them. Everybody wears pull ups when they’re your age,” you said.

“Just tonight,” she said, stepping into them. Jensen walked past with the mattress liner and she was dressed by the time you heard the washer going off in the distance. You walked her back to bed, Jensen slipping in past you and tucking her in. “Night daddy.”

“Night sweetie,” he said, kissing her temple. 

“Night Y/N,” she said.

“Night night kiddo,” you said, giving her a tiny wave before you left, Jensen flipping off her light and pulling the door shut. 

“Come here a second,” he said, nodding and you saw him head towards his room. The double doors were open and you stepped inside, Jensen going past the bed and over to a set of french doors. He pushed one open and waved for you to follow, showing you out to a rooftop balcony.

“Wow,” you said, a set of chairs, a table and a lounger out there along with a whole lot soft string lights. “I didn’t realize you had this up here.”

“Kinda a place to go unwind, relax,” he said. “I disappear out here sometimes. Been out here a lot at night lately.”

“Thinking about what?” you asked.

“You,” he said. “I talk to Dee about you sometimes as crazy as that sounds.”

“Doesn’t sound crazy at all,” you said.

“I just wanted to say...this area isn’t off limits anymore. Nothing is,” he said. 

“She asked you out, didn’t she,” you said with a smile. He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. “You’re cute.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek, heading back towards inside.

“Come on, Jensen. Before the ice cream melts on us.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 4 here!