#jet black leather demon

[astaroth1357]

Devildom "Marriage/Proposal"

Again. Probably not too Christian-coded in Hell.

Contents: Satanic themes, possessive behavior mentioned

~♡♡♡~

First off, there's a big difference between a demon bonding with another demon vs. binding to a human. There's a lot more equal ground in the former, but the power dynamics are inherently different in the latter.

Traditionally, a demon "marrying" a human is usually used as the highest form of reward to an incredibly loyal follower. It's basically a way for a demon to point them out and make it clear, "This one is my favorite!"

Demons binding themselves to humans out a genuine connection is not unheard of, of course, but it's frightfully rare. Only handful may every do this at a time and not even Solomon has managed to pull it off despite the number of pacts under his belt.

It's this rare because to reform the new pact, the demon has to give up their grimoire (the books that more or less act as substitute for a demon's heart and soul) to their partner. It's like handing away the essence of their very being to another.

When demons bind with each other, the grimoire exchange is mutual. However, since humans don't have grimoire, binding to a human is seen as an act of extreme sacrifice and humility on the demon's part. It's truly the only kind of pact they have where the risks lie mostly with them.

Possessing a demon's grimoire is like literally owning the blueprint to their bodies. All of their powers, history, thoughts, and fears are detailed out within them. Every single weakness or spell to control them hides inside as well...

Because of this, demons take this decision very, VERY seriously. If your relationship falls apart, you don't want something that important left in the hands of your ex. A vast majority of demons never even show their grimoires, much less give them away.

A demon will only ever have one grimoire to share, so they can only ever be bound to one individual at a time. A human can technically be bound to multiple demons and having a binding pact does not erase lesser pacts, but again, it would be rare.

When an individual is in possession of a demon's grimoire, they will always be able to materialize it with just a slight flick of the wrist. Having it on their person will also be enough for them to summon the owner at will, barely a whisper necessary.

A demon will already show up stronger than usual if they're summoned by their grimoire, but using any added enchantments inside will only increase their power tenfold. A good caster can turn their partner into supercharged war machine with minimal effort.

There's a certain oneness between the pair that comes from binding that goes far beyond your average pact. The demon and their partner get the heightened ability to "read" each other. It's not full on telepathy, but they gain a preternatural sense for just how the other is feeling. An entire conversation can be held in the span of seconds with merely few glances and a shrug between them.

Demons are also EXTREMELY protective of their bound partners, which kind of makes sense considering what they're carrying around. They're not very good at hiding it either. We're talking full fangs out and deep, guttural growls at even the most minor of threats.

The offer of the grimoire is technically seen as the "proposal" and acceptance commences the "marriage." It's a big deal with when high-ranking demons decide to do this, so it's often celebrated by a public wedding ceremony.

The Grimores

Lucifer's grimoire has a real gothic flare to it. The whole thing is jet black leather with blood red rubies fixed to the spine and fine layer of gold leaf pressed into the corners. No matter where it's being kept, cover will always feel a bit cold to the touch... The pages are thick and textured, with every word inside written inside done in a careful, nearly mechanical hand. Perfectly legible. Technically flawless. Though certain pages are written with some hesitation, particularly the ones that go over his past...

Mammon's grimoire is, arguably, the most beautiful of the bunch. It's snow white with brilliant gold accents on the spine and along the edges. His personal sigil, painted in shimmering light, takes up most of the front cover and mesmerizes any eye that catches its shine. It's a little on the slim side, though, due in part to how thin pages are inside. Reading it can be a bit messy because the caster can always see whatever words have been scrawled out on the back of the page...

Leviathan's grimoire looks like something straight out of a sunken treasure chest. The brownish-violet leather used to bind it feels real, and it is, though it couldn't have come from any mortal creature on land. The edges are worn down and cracking from neglect, giving the whole thing a certain fragility over the rest... The pages are yellowed and hard from water damaged, yet the words inside still survive... even if parts of them are a tad smudged.

Satan's grimoire could probably pass for 18th century notebook. It too is leather bound, but it doesn’t have the same flare as his older brothers'. If anything, it has a very DIY feel to it, where the cover has a little glue in places it shouldn't and the rough-feeling pages don't all fit quite right. It feels more like a field journal than a demonic tome, perhaps adding to the distinct aura of rebellion radiating off of it... The script inside seems to change from page to page with some part written neatly and other parts apparently scrawled out in a rage. Legibility may vary.

Asmodeus' grimoire looks more like a decorative art piece than a book at times... The wine red cover is smooth and shiny with polished gems affixed like a spider's web on the front. Asmo's grimore is unique in that it is the only one that comes with a lock on it, one that can only be lifted by a spell only he knows. The penmanship inside is naturally beautiful, though sometimes the added flare of loops and flourishes gets in the way keeping everything readable.

Beelzebub's grimoire is deceptively simple looking compared to the others. It looks like your standard leather-bound book and aside from its surprising thickness, not much stands out about it. Even the engraving of his sigil on the cover doesn't have any extra color or shadow to it. But when it's open, the most gorgeous words lie inside as if penned by a master calligrapher. Every bit of space is used appropriately and each letter is clean, clear, and fluidly handled. It's not only legible, it's breathtaking and obviously done with a lot of time and care.

Belphegor's grimoire looks like a void in the space around it. It goes beyond the jet black of Lucifer's cover to an almost true black from cover to pages. You wouldn't even know that it's made of leather unless you felt it because it reflects no light and it betrays no design. Running a hand across it, though, does reveal the ridges of Belphie's sigil craved into the front and back cover. The black pages all have words are written in a bright, silvery, and iridescent ink. Parts of the pages also look seem to contain spilled stardust ready to fly off into the air. The penmanship is a little simple, compared to the rest, but nothing that can't be skimmed at a glance if need be.

Diavolo's grimoire could kill a man from its weight alone. The book is far too big for any shelf and thick with heavily textured, papyrus-like paper. No matter who has it, it will always feel as if a supernatural force is trying to pull it from their hands... Seeing much past its burgundy, black, and gold cover is more or less impossible but what's there truly befits royalty. Every aspect of the design is flawless, with polished onyx as black as night embedded in the spine and ancient symbols peppered between golden spindle-like filigree. One can only imagine what exactly is so forbidden on the inside though...

Barbatos' (true) grimoire is an honest to god mystery... No one has ever seen it and Solomon theorizes that he keeps it in a particularly empty timeline. If asked what it looks like, Barbatos will share that it's simply "a green book," but not elaborate much farther before changing the subject... One has to assume, though, it's probably as thick as a tree trunk with all the history within those pages and for the cover...? He's had all of the time in the world to make it something truly special.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me worldbuilding #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos

[himbocoups]

˗ˋˏ Red Horn ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: devils are contract workers - simply offer them a payment that they can never refuse, and your problems would be taken care of. the only thing is, what could a mere human possibly offer to a devil?

pairing: devil!jeonghan x innocent!reader (gn afab)

genre: fantasy, supernatural | smut, pwp

tags: flirting, food mention, office | bondage, light choking, creampie, dirty talk, fingering, oral, pet names, pnv, praise, if there's a term for jeonghan fucking you with one of his devil horns please tell me, reader wears lingerie, reader's first time, multiple orgasms...

wc: 5.4k

message from nu: this took me super long to write, but this has to be one of my favorites. special thank you to xan @aceofvernons and june @junkissed for keeping me company while I worked on the fic. I hope you all enjoy reading - nu <3

In the distance, the elevator dings sharp and clear, its ring piercing through the reception lounge as its large plum-colored crystal doors open with a rumble. Even when you sit facing away from the reception desk, you can imagine the receptionist greeting the incomer with their monotonous voice, drawling out the same script they gave to you – jet black orbs staring at you judgmentally while you try to scribble your personal information on the forms as fast as you can.

A large Prometheus-type creature in the seat across from you whimpers when its name is called, head hunched and practically trembling with every stride toward the smiling attendant. Open space in front of you, you can see through the large glass windows the hundreds of skyscrapers and verdant greenery where feet touch the ground under the red sky. This place is but a stretch, an affected area of Hell – at least for those who are not native. Even this lounge, untouched coffee bar with expensive Keurig models, circa 1920s sleek leather Barcelonas, and low mid-century style coffee tables with old filled-in Highlights magazines as table decorations, is deceiving in its own way. Because, if it wasn’t clear enough, all of you are in Hell.

Sharp teeth chattering, long tails thumping in anxiety, and sheepish whimpers, the atmosphere in what could be a beautiful place is filled with layers of dread and fear. You sit in your chair, right hand brought to your lips, while slowly peeling the layers of chipped skin off your lips, the light sweater you wore in the morning feeling as heavy as a weighted blanket. Flicking away the loose pieces to the floor a few inches away from your fuzzy teddy bear slippers, you slink further into your seat with thoughts of what could possibly come next weighing you down.

You wanted it. Correction. You still want it, even when the soft jazz playing from the speakers barely masks the distant screams and screeches that echo throughout the many halls and floors in the building. So desperate to have your need fulfilled you would even beg a devil, the devil, for even an ounce of that fulfillment.

So, when a siren with beautiful wings adorned with brown speckled feathers calls your name, you answer with a squeak and scramble to meet them in the corridor of one of the halls where they wait patiently for you with a kind smile on their face. The creature’s feathers ruffle as it elegantly struts down the bright corridor, passing various framed artworks and accolades, a file folder nestled under the crook of its left wing. Too deep in your mind, nitpicking at your outfit choice and squeaky voice whenever you answer the siren’s small talk, you fail to even notice that it isn’t the usual demon who is walking you to their office.

And the office, matte black large double doors that seem to aggrandize the more you stare at it, seems to you the most daunting thing you’ve ever experienced, dreading what’s on the other side of the doors. The doors automatically swing open when the siren approaches, and a rich puff of aroma fills your senses – strongly smoked tea leaves, spices, and aged tannin from the great oak trees you spent your vacations under during summer camps. Immersive, sultry, powerful…frightening.

The creature beckons you to follow them inside, the doors slamming shut when you enter the threshold. If you were dreading the office's interior - perhaps a grotesque chamber too scary to imagine, then the reality only confuses you. Plush gray Persian rug you’re too scared to step on, mahogany desk sitting at the end of the room, a large fish tank built into one of the walls big enough to hold a shark. It would look like a standard luxury CEO office if it weren’t for the shelves of trinkets from collectible matchbooks to eyeless Sylvanian Family figures to mysterious chained and muffled floating orbs that stand behind the desk.

Taking a seat in front of the desk, you watch the siren slowly stalk behind the desk, perching itself in the leather executive chair to rifle through the files with its back turned towards you. Your hands find each other in your lap, folded together, the right thumb twiddling with the left. It is awfully quiet, and the atmosphere is just as bad as it was in the lounge. No part of you wants to spark a conversation, afraid that the slightest conversation error could send you on a one-way ticket into the depths of hell. Does their boss know they are sitting in their boss’ seat?

However, when the leather chair turns around, you see a man frowning at what you assume to be your file – your attendant long gone. He flicks away his remaining brown feathers, letting his disguise dissipate into thin air while craning his head to the left and right to stretch his neck. A tri-toned nameplate appears at the front of his messy desk, deep burgundy red with a black center dark enough that you could mistake it for a void. Written in gold is the name “Yoon Jeonghan,” and in a smaller font underneath is his official title.

The devil, as the plate reads, cocks an eyebrow at you through his long curtain bangs, causing you to take a craven stance – wincing and lowering your head so you don’t meet his eyes. Taking a page out of the file, he presses it against the desk and slides the page towards you, twisting it with his long nimble fingers in one smooth motion so the words face you upright.

“You summoned me via a crocheted sweater, a three-year-old three-wick seasonal autumnal candle that smells like pumpkin pie, and a tiny crushed packet of Prince Noodles you found at the back of your snack cabinet?” His voice is light and airy, but the terrifying smoothness and the seemingly innocuous nature of his tone only deceive the listener – he is a creature filled with malice and iniquity.

Slamming his palm against the table, he drags the page towards himself, creasing it with the strength and anger he exerts. The slapping sound causes you to flinch, and your eyes continue to stay trained on your lap, the shrill sound of the slap still ringing in your ears.

“Look at me,” he commands you in a low tone, a voice dipped in a thick vat of bubbling tar. “Summoning me with trash? Do I look like a joke to you?”

Scared you might combust into flames the moment you look at him, yet too scared to defy his command, you slowly lift your head to look at the man sitting across from you for the first time.

If his verbal command isn’t enough to evoke fear in the most draconian demons, perhaps his physical properties - his presence and his chiseled facial structure - command creatures differently. Dark brown eyes and thin-lipped, bottom lip slick and catching the light after he runs his tongue over it while scoffing at you, you have to admit the devil is strikingly handsome in his features. Pure sybarite from the decoration of his office to the decorations he wears, he outfits himself in leather garb. Fashionable thick leather blazer with a belt cinched around the waist, a silver chain dangles around his neck, sparkling in hues of red. And the horns that sit at the top of his head, dark crimson red with the shine of the waxy Red Delicious apples that stack in a pyramid under bright supermarket lights. Elephant tusk-like: thick, curved, and blunt. You wonder what it would feel like if he…

He appears before you in an instant, sitting at the edge of his desk, leaning over, and sandwiching you between his towering frame and the back of your chair. With an apparent smirk on his face, he enjoys watching you practically whimper underneath him, trembling in your seat. Irises expanding in size at exponential speeds is a clear tell, a giveaway of your need for him.

“You’re scared of me.” He points out with much effrontery while cocking his head, his face a mere few inches away from yours. He leans back with his arms crossed, planting himself firmly against his desk. “But you’re the one who summoned me, wanting to make a deal with me, right? So, no matter how scared you are of me, you’re still the boss and I’m your contract worker.”

“Contract worker?”

You can’t believe his words. He is agreeing to your stupid little request that you thought could never be fulfilled. Summoning a demon? Summoning the devil? It sounds like a quirky group activity to do at middle school sleepovers.

“You mean why did I agree to your request?”

You quickly nod your head in response.

“I’m a man with needs. And you’re a little angel who was brave enough to offer me a deal. It’s an obscene request that nobody of your kind has offered me for centuries - although, the last one perished with my touch…but you wouldn’t lie to me, right? Sweetheart?” He almost bats his long eyelashes with the pet name, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The scene shifts almost theatrically – morphing from Jeonghan’s office to the tiny bedroom you were in about an hour ago. It seems real. All of it. The same putrid orange floorboards with dark knots that look like stains, hanging on the wall is a single bronze circular mirror your navy curtains slap against when the wind blows. You’re sitting in the middle of your bed, the old lumpy mattress you’ve been using since elementary school covered with the white checkered duvet set you found for free on some second-hand site. On the floor by the foot of the bed is a tiny space you made by pushing your jackets and plastic bags away, saved for summoning Jeonghan. Now, all that is left is soot, the Prince Noodles wrapper, and a now-stretched hand-made sweater.

Fucker. He is keeping the candle.

“It’s your first time so I can make you feel more comfortable – play on your turf. But the question is, can you take it? Can you take all of me? We can break it down into several sessions.” His suggestive tone is almost warmhearted. It almost makes you forget this is the first time you’ve met him. 

This situation would be laughable if it weren’t for the fact that you’re talking to the devil. You don’t know if he’s the type to laugh at bad jokes, but you weren’t going to test your hypothesis. 

“No,” you tell him. There’s only one thing on your mind. “One time.”

“You don’t realize what ‘all at once’ means, do you?”

Granted, if this were any other day with any other person, you would’ve faltered when this type of question kisses your ears. Doe-eyed, you watch him while sitting at the edge of your bed, a tiny nod in motion that makes him smile at you. The outer corners of his eyes crinkle, and he almost seems like a college boyfriend-esque type visiting your room for the first time - kind and patient, yet filled with corrupt thoughts.

He takes a seat next to you and proceeds to unbuckle the belt that cinches his waist. You’re too shy to stare at him while he undresses, but you can hear very clearly his garments hitting the floor one after another. The end of soft thuds and crinkles and a cool touch that turns your face to his, he holds your face in the palm of his right hand. So tender, yet his intentions are clearly laid out in the open.

“Why don’t you show me what pretty outfit you’re hiding underneath your sweater so I can show you what I mean?” his voice low, sending vibrations down to your core.

What you reveal underneath is a dainty two-piece. Thin lavender silk trim and clear organza with embroidered pastel flower details accentuate the cups that cover your breasts. The bottom matches the top, pulled high to your waistline. He hisses, forked tongue appearing for a split second before disappearing again.

“Contrary to what humans believe,” he mutters while holding one of your hands in his. “Angels don’t exist in this world. But at this moment…” He pushes a strand of hair away from your face, a subtle yet intimate gesture. He’s doing his best to prepare you for the worst without scaring you off, and you can’t help but to cling to him and seek refuge in his assuagement. “You’re the only Angel in front of me.”

Now you can see them more clearly. Dark brown eyes with bright specks of gold only a mere few inches away from yours. It makes you wonder how someone as beautiful as he can become the Devil. But he leaves no time for you to spare as he dips and plants his lips against yours. And you reciprocate with ardor, leaning back onto the bed as he changes his position so he is hovering, towering above you. His kisses are slow, focusing on making you feel good. Supple lips against your hot skin, he nips and licks at your flesh, leaving discolored hues of claret and magenta, him ravaging your untouched purity. And he takes the lead, grabbing your hands so they hug his neck so you can press him closer to you when you feel like it.

And you do. It excites you when learning how your body automatically reacts to him in need and lust: pulling him into your chest while feeling his soft skin rub against your lingerie, speeding up your kisses, and whining when you want more. He only smirks when he pulls away, looking at you from above and seeing your plump swollen lips and sexual frustration scintillating in your eyes. Your first hickeys on your neck and chest look like the beginnings of the first fallen leaves in the suburbs during Autumn. And you feel him grow against your core, a firm ball that waits to be unleashed with its owner’s command.

“Will my Angel be good for me?” He looks up at you while he traces the dainty straps that wrap around your skin, his pointer finger swirling around the yellow intricate embroidered flower that barely covers your nipple. The tip of the finger flicks against your rosy bud, and the feeling sends vibrations and shivers straight to your core. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” you barely manage to whisper. “I’ll be good.”

“Then I’ll make you feel good.”

He bends down to kiss you again, this time with more fervor as if to mitigate any of your worries or concerns. But, strangely enough, you don’t. What is left behind in the trek to his office is replaced with new feelings of greed that you desperately want to have fulfilled during your nights alone. And the man who kisses down your body, pleasing you and praising you for reacting so well to his touch, seems multifarious enough to fulfill everything you dreamed about in secret.

When he reaches your core, it’s already uncomfortably wet. He seems to pay no mind as he pries away the lily embroidery that covers your cunt, cool finger briefly brushing against your skin to reveal your tender flesh that throbs underneath his gaze. Jeonghan starts slowly, prying your thighs apart with both of his hands. Firm grip on your skin, you whimper when he frowns at you for trying to shy away. Then you feel his lips planting pecks along your left inner thigh, making his way to your slick. 

If the way he kisses you is nothing but a lust-filled way of overcoming his workload, stress, and greed, then the way he eats you out is the complete opposite. Yoon Jeonghan doesn’t dive in head first after pushing you into the deep end; he holds your hand while guiding you into the pool, letting you adjust to the temperature of the water before swimming after him. Laps you up with the flat side of his tongue, long licks around your inner folds and swirls your core like a whirlwind, Jeonghan tsks when you start to close your thighs around his head without thinking. While telling you to behave, the low growl making you almost come on the spot, he pries your thighs apart. 

Firm grip and fingers digging into your skin, the Devil presses his tongue against the area you often frequented yourself at night, never thinking the day would come when someone else is able to visit. Forked tongue draws a heart down your slick, zigzags, paddles, and swims in your juices. It feels like two tongues are working you at once, and it makes you come twice as fast, your fingers gripping the bed sheets and your body jolting upwards. Supple lips close around where you feel the most sensitive, and he eats you out in a way that tells you that you would never be able to experience something like this in the future - not with him and definitely not with anybody else.

“Aah-ah fuck Jeonghan.” You squirm while he keeps his pace, wet sounds from beneath you filling your little room while he cleans up your aftermath. “Want more.”

“Aww my little Angel wants more?” He temporarily detaches his face from your cunt, red swollen lips glistening and glossed with your cum, to smirk at you. “Why don’t you look at me and beg for it?”

But he’s meticulous with continuously making you feel good. In the absence of his tongue, he replaces the emptiness with his fingers. Rubbing your nub in between his thumb and pointer finger, the Devil uses his other hand to rub himself - his hands prepping his long and pink organ. It takes a choked sob emitting from your mouth and your eyes rolling to the back of your head before you can even begin to think about looking him in the eye. And when you finally look him dead in the eye and trail to his raging member while letting out what he thinks are the prettiest and most deceivingly innocent whines, he finally understands your cupidity. 

So he thrusts his digits in your core, your panties now magically disappearing when he could’ve shrugged them off ages ago. Two long fingers fill your virgin hole, he scissors them while feeling your warm flesh contrast in reaction to his cold skin. Pointer fingers hook around your spongy G-spot, and he uses it as a sort of pulley, pulling him into you while your stomach tightens and squeezes with every quiver of his finger. You feel yourself soak his fingers, running down into his palms. He catches every drop with his tongue, licking his hands clean and then moving on to your cunt as he continues to finger you thoroughly.

He pulls his fingers apart, creating an opening to stick his tongue in you. Tonguing you, he savors your sweetness, sucking and thrusting his tongue deeper into you while he slides his fingers in and out of you. He fills you up until he runs out of room. You feel so corrupted, never expecting any person to make you feel so dirty, disgusting, yet so well-handled at the same time. You lust for more, to feel more as he smirks against your sex and reaches his open hand upwards to grab your breast. It feels plush and soft when he kneads it in between his fingers. Simply flicking his thumb over your sensitive nub sends shockwaves down to your core, and he surfaces with your cum dripping down his chin.

“How are you feeling?” he asks you, briefly leaning upwards to catch your lips in his mouth. “Can you take more? That was just to warm you up. Are you ready for me?” he mumbles against your lips.

The taste of yourself sits prominently in his mouth. You can taste yourself as you exchange another kiss with him, slowly winding down from your high.

“I- I want to try more.” You hear yourself openly admitting while he leaves tiny pecks along your collarbone. “It felt good.”

“Just good?” He looks up at you in feigned confusion. “Come on honey, I didn’t fuck you dumb just yet. I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to come up with better adjectives. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t know how to describe it.” You gasp when he moves away from your cover to latch his lips around your nipple. “I cam- I think I came several times, but I’m still horny.” The last part comes out in a sort of whisper as if you’re afraid you would be caught by somebody if you ever admitted to being horny out loud.

“Mmm.” He groans with your tit in his mouth. “Mmf. Nothing wrong with being horny. And you did come. Several times…but are you ready to come more?”

“Yes.” You’re feeling more confident. “I’m ready for more.”

“Even if I have to tie you down?” He pushes himself up so he kneels in front of you. “I’m afraid your human body can’t take what I’m about to give you.”

“I want to try,” you reply. “‘All at once,’ remember?”

“Okay Angel.” He smiles, leaning over to put his hand behind your head to bring you upright. “All at once.”

Your face is so close to his body that you can smell the muskiness of his sex. Right in front of you is his member. It’s your first time seeing one this closely, red and stiff, and a tiny bead of precum that rolls off the tip. You wonder how it would feel in the palm of your hands, how you would be able to fit all of it in your mouth.

“Take a good look at it, Angel. Touch it or suck it if you want,” his voice is gentle yet mischievous. “Don’t be scared. I can guide you. Take your chances before I spend the rest of our time disappearing in your cunt.”

Hesitantly, you bring your lips closer to his tip, opening your mouth wide enough so your lips close around the head. It’s smooth like a cool cherry-flavored popsicle on a hot summer day, yet there’s a certain softness to the organ. You stare up at him with his head in your mouth, and he simply nods, thrusting forward a little to tell you that you can continue. 

A tiny lick causes him to flinch and then gasp, his eyes fluttering as you lick him again more confidently. He breathes out a groan when you place a hand on his waist while the other grabs his length. Closing your eyes, you hollow your cheeks and guide him in and out of your mouth, sucking and licking as you go. 

And the raging and tantalizing ache in him can’t help but to grow and extend along his erection, growing hot in his stomach as he looks down at you trying your best to suck his dick. It makes him feral knowing that he’s your first - the first to corrupt you, to coat your thick and swollen lips with your saliva and his precum, and to watch you as you clench your thighs while sucking him off. Just thinking about your request and actually seeing you try to fit him in your mouth without gagging intoxicates him and makes his mind fuzzy. But before he can begin to process his dick hitting the cold air, he feels your mouth latch around one of his testicles, gently sucking while your hand kneads the other, and your other hand continues to pump him in your mouth’s absence. 

This time, he sees you wide-eyed and staring right at him. And when your eyes roll to the back of your head, he immediately snaps and spasms - shooting white liquid all over the bed sheets. 

“Lay back down,” he demands. 

Repositioning himself over your naked body, he wipes away a few splatter marks on your face and reapplies it to your open lips. It’s hard to concentrate on the new salty taste when the Devil is staring intently into your eyes while his hands roam your body, touching and flicking. 

He asks you about punishments for making him come without warning - something about how he should prolong your virginity, a concept that you wanted him to take away. 

…it’s just a social construct used to belittle others, the contract states. But if anybody is going to take it away, then it has to be the Devil himself. 

“This might hurt a little,” he tells you. 

Invisible ropes drag your hands above your head and tie your thighs to your bed. Making sure you’re secure Jeonghan quips, “In case you try to run away.”

You can barely see what he’s doing from your angle. His dick is slowly becoming hard again, so you think he’s going to eat you out in the meantime. But nothing can prepare you for what comes next. 

It feels cold and warm, a long tubular shape slowly digging and nudging itself into your cunt. Yet, you don’t feel the same wetness you felt when he stuck his tongue in your cunt. The figure pulls in and out, sliding and squelching with every thrust. Your mouth drops open, letting tiny soundless exhales fall out of your mouth. A burning sensation builds up at the bottom of your stomach, causing you to lurch and struggle against your binds. Jeonghan only chuckles from underneath you, his face shrouded by his hair. It’s only when he pushes deep, causing you to yell his name when you realize the object he pushes into you. 

What fucks your cunt in a steady rhythm is the same crimson red, elephant-tusk-like horn that sits on top of Jeonghan’s head. He slightly turns his head so the thick and curved object hits you in the right spot, causing you to struggle, moan, and breathe heavily. 

“What a twisted angel,” Jeonghan grunts. “You didn’t think I would be able to read your thoughts? You didn’t think the Devil would be able to listen in on every single dirty thought that came across that pretty little head of yours?”

“Fuck. P-please Jeonghan,” you whine through gritted teeth. “Want your dick.” 

“No.” His tone is flat. “I’m not horny yet. Hearing you whine and mewl about how good I make you feel ”

“N-No,” you manage to say. “Can’t wh-whine if you’re choking me.”

Your invitation causes him to immediately pull out of you, therefore causing you to lurch forward with a gasp and fall back down when you’re stopped by your binds. It’s a lot clearer now, his wet red horn and the hair matted down by your juices. Still, there is nothing that could make the man in front of you become an eyesore. 

He’s objectifyingly beautiful - now not as downright terrifying as you thought him to be. Your little push of confidence, although a bit passive, goes a long way as he bends down once again to catch you between his lips, kissing you feverishly as his left hand slowly works its way to loop around your neck. 

It’s a new feeling, feeling the pressure of his palm against your neck. The pressure is light - not how Jeonghan would’ve liked to choke you, but enough so the concept doesn’t scare you away. Gently squeezing the sides of your esophagus, Jeonghan removes his lips from yours so he can see you clearly. Chin lifted up and your eyes glossed over, you seem to him to be needier than ever. He watches you as your struggle against his invisible binds, hips thrusting in the air. 

“Please Jeonghan.” You struggle against his hand. “Please. I’m ready. I’ve been ready. Please-”

“Beg.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “I’m begging. Please.”

He adds a little more pressure around your esophagus, making you struggle and almost come on the spot. “More.”

“W-want t-to see your pre- ah fuck pretty face lose its beauty when you bend over me while fucking me hard. I want you to be mean to me and pull my hair so my back arches while you pound into me from behind. Make my thighs quiver and tremble as my knees go red. Use me until I’m left with nothing but tears.”

“I can make you cry.” He lets go of your throat, tsk-ing at the fading soft pink imprint left behind on your skin. “But not in the way you described…You’ll be leaking from somewhere else, Angel.”

You breathe his words in like an airy aphrodisiac, filling your lungs and clouding your brain with blissful jubilation. But the tears. The tears fall when he slowly pushes into you, cooing and soothing you while you cling onto him, fingernails digging red welts into his bare back while you struggle to adjust to his size. The stinging pain feels like no other, but fuck does it feel good to have him inside you. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, he bends over you and whispers in your ear, “Keep tightly clenching around me before I can properly fuck you and you’ll never be able to leave Hell. Understand?”

“Yes,” you reply, hissing when he pulls back.

Then he starts pushing slowly back into you, savoring how your walls etch and hug his ridges, savoring how your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head in response to your pleasure. Another thrust, faster this time. He plagues you with need, making you practically fuck him yourself by angling your legs on the bed so you can push yourself into him over and over again. He pinches your nipple in anger, but it only sends a lewd string of pain straight to your core. You find it pleasurable, your nerves heightened to a new level. 

So he puts his hands around your waist and tells you his name again - because that’s the only thing you’ll remember after he’s done with you. 

He ruts into you over and over again, harshly and quickly. The only sounds filling your tiny bedroom are your hiccups that complement the sound of his skin slapping against yours. Your whole body jerks and rocks with every thrust, your bed no longer standing in the same place, now slightly askew. He doesn’t even give you time to recover when you cum on his cock, your belly tightening, releasing, and then tightening again in a matter of a few seconds. 

“Whore,” he sneers. “Look at you, all fucked out underneath me. You can’t help but come multiple times, can you?”

He rubs your clit while pounding into you, watching you writhe in pleasure underneath him, very well unable to respond to his rhetorical question. 

“And you want me to pound into you from behind?” He mockingly laughs out loud. “All that talk but you can’t even form a word. Form a word then. Try forming a word before I cum.” 

But another wave swells in your abdomen, causing you to jerk forward in reaction. Your body feels sweaty and sore, but the pleasure rolls in waves - building in you and ejecting out of you like a consistent ebb and flow. Every single bite, flick, and word that comes out of him only breaks you even more. And you topple like a house of cards, reduced to nothing but his personal fucktoy. 

He chases his own orgasm when he feels like it, pushing into you deeply and thrusting one last time by hitting your walls so he can slowly milk his seed as he rolls his hips. And when he pulls out, he watches his liquid slowly collect at your entrance, threatening to spill out. Your body still twitches in his absence, your aftershocks squeezing and making his seed drip and run out of you. 

Your eyes are blurry, body is sore with tiny cartoonish stars floating and rotating above your head. You can’t expect the Devil to stay. He had done enough for you, more than you could ever imagine. It takes everything in you to bring yourself to whisper his name one last time before you feel him leave your side. 

On the floor where you summoned him is an invitation to summon him again:

Whenever you’re ready. He writes. I’ll make you crawl. -YJH, The Devil

#svthub #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #svt imagines #svt smut #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan smut #jeonghan au #✏️ ━ himbocoups

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— falling asleep (in your arms)

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of blood and death (it's mostly fluff tho)

summary: the best rest you could ever get was always by her side

word count: 3.3k

Wednesday tapped her foot against the lacquered floor impatiently as she stood next to the door of the resident oni’s room, waiting for the girl to come out. She didn’t have a phone, nor did she wear a wristwatch – she didn’t like the aesthetic is all – but her gut told her that it had already been past breakfast time.

Fixing the strap of the black backpack on her shoulder, Wednesday turned to finally knock at the door, doing so especially loudly. When she didn’t hear footsteps, she decided to invite herself in, turning the handle with a swift hand and looking around, annoyed.

The windows were half – open, letting the sounds of birds chirping outside in. Books were scattered across the desk that stood against the wall, the leaves of the small bonsai tree moving in tune with the gusts of wind entering the room and gently worrying the curtains.

Wednesday’s gaze landed on a big lump of blankets laying on the bed, quiet snores coming from under the layers.

Wonderful. She was still in bed.

“(Y/n). Wake up.” The ravenette called out sternly.

No answer came.

“You’re going to be late for class if you don’t get up this instant, (Y/n).” Wednesday warned, her voice gaining volume.

Still no answer.

“I’m not letting you copy my notes. You better wake up right now.”

This time a groan came from the lump resting on the bed, and the demon buried under the warm layers turned on her side, a clawed hand coming out to hang over the edge.

“Tell Weems I ate someone and got arrested.” (Y/n) grumbled, her voice heavy with sleepiness.

“She’ll drop everything to go bail you out.” The ravenette objected, crossing her arms as she walked up to stand over the demon, watching her sleepy face emerge from the sea of comforters.

“Fuck, no she won’t…”

Wednesday sighed, looking down at (Y/n) sternly, “Stop being so immature. Get up or I’m leaving without you.”

“Five more minutes, maybe?” The demon girl asked, her signature slitted puppy eyes making Wednesday frown.

“No, (Y/n),” she replied firmly, refusing to let the cute act get ahold of her, “You’re already running late. We need to get to class.”

(Y/n) scoffed, hiding her face in her pillow resentfully, “Is this what Enid has to go through every morning? No wonder her attendance’s been perfect since the day you came.” She grumbled, voice muffled.

Wednesday rolled her eyes. This was so stupid.

“Fine. Five more minutes and not a second more.”

(Y/n) lifted her face up again, and this time her toothy mouth was adorned by a happy grin. Scooching a bit away from the edge of the bed closer to the wall, her clawed palm patted the empty space, wordlessly inviting the smaller girl to join.

Wednesday’s shoulders sagged, and, leaving her backpack by the edge of the bed and taking of her shoes, she got into the bed, instantly getting smothered by the taller girl wrapping her arms around her shoulders and burying her face into her jet – black hair.

The oni’s frame was emitting heat, and the demon was purring up a storm – Wednesday could feel the vibrations resonate in (Y/n)’s chest, and the feeling had a somewhat calming effect on the gloomy girl.

It was always like this. Why was Wednesday always giving in? She supposed it had something to do with the warm feelings she had for the irresponsible oni demon.

With a small huff the ravenette wrapped her arms around the taller girl’s middle, resting her cheek on the purring demon’s chest, the sound like a powerful machine engine this close.

Five more minutes.

Flipping through the yellow pages of the huge book, Wednesday’s eyes trailed over the written words in hopes of finding something that would lead her closer to the truth in her investigation. The bestiary was a thick old book with a brown leather cover, no doubt touched and used by a myriad of people before her, and getting her hands on such a relic was surely worth something.

So there she was, in the dead of the night, sitting in the library with one of the only people she could trust at the academy – (Y/n). The demon was reluctant to join at first, but agreed ultimately, not wanting the girl to go down all alone if she was caught sneaking around past curfew. (Y/n) doubted she could be of use to Wednesday in the matter of intelligence and mystery solving, but at least she could keep her company.

Wednesday turned another page, and her eyes widened. There it was, painted with a light hand of a master artist, back slouched and eyes bulging – the hyde.

“(Y/n), look,” she pulled at the sleeve of the demon girl sitting next to her, not tearing her gaze away from the book, “I found it.”

The oni hummed, having been uncharacteristically quiet for the past half an hour, and shuffled by the smaller girl’s side. Wednesday felt weight on her shoulder, but still didn’t look up at her companion.

Focusing on the small amount of information given, she squinted, her finger tracing over the sentences as she read. The language was complicated, but not enough to confuse the great Wednesday Addams.

“He has a master,” she murmured under her breath, slowly digesting the new discovery, “That means, whoever they are, the master has awakened the hyde from his subconsciousness and is giving out orders...” Wednesday raised her head up to look at the taller girl, “Do oni demons also need some kind of an awakening for their true forms, too?”

Wednesday stared at the other girl, unblinking.

She was... asleep.

Leaning against the ravenette’s shoulder snuggly, (Y/n) had her arms folded on her chest, and, breathing evenly, the oni girl snored away. Her eyebrows were furrowed, an evidence of a dream she was most likely seeing, and on her tusked mouth was a small frown.

Wednesday sighed. Her eyes traced over the demon's expression, then she turned back to the book, reaching her hand to tangle her manicured fingers in the demon's (h/c) hair, scratching at her scalp and hoping to ease the girl's worried slumber.

This oni demon could certainly use an awakening. But she'd let it slide for now.

Early morning sunlight shone through the slit between the thick beige curtains right onto (Y/n)’s face. The demon scrunched her nose in irritation as her eyes slowly pried open, squinting immediately. She brought a hand up to cover her face, then slowly sat up, rubbing at her tired lids. The clock on her bedside table read 5:12 – too early to be up. The (h/c) – haired demon yawned, stretching her long limbs over her head, and the oni’s movements were almost enough to wake up the small lump sleeping next to her.

Almost.

(Y/n)’s gaze slid down to where Wednesday laid beside her, the ravenette’s hands that were previously wrapped around the demon’s clawed palm now clutching the bedsheets, and the oni watched her chest rise and fall slowly with every breath she took. (Y/n) was content with watching the gloomy girl sleep soundly, her small body curled up against the demon’s. She’s never seen Wednesday so peaceful and relaxed, the sight a complete adoration, making her heart swell with warmth.

Unable to hold herself back any longer, (Y/n) leaned down to press a gentle smooch to the girl’s freckled cheekbone. She lingered there for a few moments, then her lips trailed lower, aiming at Wednesday’s chin, then up to her nose and the corner of her left eyelid. When she was done peppering her face with kisses, she pulled away, smiling softly. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t enough to wake the dead - asleep girl up, so (Y/n) made the choice to lay back down on her side, resting her head in her palm to watch Wednesday sleep.

God, she loved mornings like this. Waking up next to Wednesday brought her day a reason.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Came the smaller girl’s deadpan voice suddenly, her mouth moving, but eyes still remaining closed.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up.” (Y/n) grinned, a clawed finger coming to get some stray disheveled hair out of her pretty pale face. Wednesday’s nose scrunched at the tickling feeling, and she opened her eyes to look at the demon.

“What time is it?” She asked.

“Too early to worry. You should sleep a bit more.”

“We’ll miss breakfast.”

“No, we won’t. There’s still some time left,” the oni assured, resting her palm on Wednesday’s cheek, her thumb smoothing over the skin there, “Have I ever told you how pretty you look in the morning? You ought to let sunlight graze your features more often, despite how much you claim to loathe it.”

She watched Wednesday’s face heat up, and the gloomy girl frowned, turning on her side and away from the other, “Goodnight, (Y/n).”

The demon chuckled, moving closer to the embarrassed heap of covers that was her girlfriend, then wrapped a hand over her waist, her lips ghosting over Wednesday’s ear, and, as she spoke, her blunt tusks tickled, making goosebumps rise up the ravenette’s neck, “I wonder if there’s something I could do to set your mood for the day...”

“Goodnight, (Y/n).”

Desperately trying to keep herself upright, (Y/n) walked through the dark forest, her clawed fingers digging into the tree trunks and leaving marks as she stumbled. She was tired – but victorious, and, slowly making her way through the woods and back to the academy, the demon left behind a mauled body of her enemy she had to fight just a few moments ago – the hyde.

(Y/n) didn’t think she’d stumble upon Tyler, but she was glad it was her who did.

“Where is she, Galpin.”

“Oh, you didn’t hear? Addams is dead. She was no longer needed,” the young man chuckled, stepping closer into the demon’s face, but barely even intimidating her, “And you’re next.”

“Fuck,” (Y/n) choked, raising her fist to her suddenly wet eyes to wipe the tears away, “You better be a fucking liar above else, you worthless piece of shit. Or I’ll come back and finish you off.” She cursed, talking to herself in the haze of worry clouding her mind.

Decency the last thing on her mind, the oni stepped on the dirty ground, half – naked, covered in blood and exhausted, but her heart ached and the only thing able to soothe it would be seeing Wednesday, alive and well, pressing her closer and letting the weight and the warmth of her body ground (Y/n). Then she’d let her guard down, let her shoulders sag and eyes close.

(Y/n)’s grip turned white on the chipped stone walls when she walked up to the building, looking around the burned school grounds. The wind blew, chilling the oni to the bone, but did nothing to stop her.

She had to find Wednesday. Somewhere deep inside her guts she had a feeling the ravenette was still alive. The hope was small, like a weak flame burning in her chest, but she refused to let it die.

(Y/n) stopped in her tracks, hanging her head to take a few deep breaths. Then she looked up, and her slitted eyes widened.

There, standing in the middle of the yard with a broken blade in her hand, was the small black – haired girl. Her breath heavy, hair disheveled and a small trail of blood was running down her face.

The demon’s naked feet hurt as she stepped onto the stony surface of the quad, burned down and destroyed, but her legs refused to carry her further anymore.

“Wednesday.”

The ravenette turned at the sound of her name, and her eyes widened.

“(Y/n).”

Throwing her sword away, she ran up to the taller girl, just in time to wrap her arms around her middle when the demon felt her knees buckle. Burying her face in the oni’s chest, not caring about the sticky blood smearing across her cheek, she squeezed her eyes closed.

“You’re okay.” (Y/n) mumbled, her arms encircling Wednesday’s waist, her lips pressing against her hair with a shaky sigh, and the lump in her throat was impossible to fight anymore.

“Don’t cry, mio cuore,” Wednesday murmured, looking up and raising a gentle palm to wipe the tears that rolled down the demon’s cheeks freely, mixing with blood and pouring down her dirty chin, “It’s over now.”

Her grey eyes trailed down to the demon’s bloodied frame, worry swirling in the dark pools, “Are you hurt?”

The demon shook her head, a watery grin on her tusked mouth, “It’s not mine,” she assured, pressing her hand against Wednesday’s where it rested on her cheek, “Tyler told me you were...”

“It’s a long story,” the ravenette shushed the demon, not wanting to unnerve her further, “But I’m okay now.”

(Y/n)’s pointed ear flicked when she caught an unfamiliar sound. She lifted her face, turning her head to find the source of the noise, and her eyes widened.

A click of a gun hammer.

The demon’s lip raised threateningly, baring her blunt tusks at the woman stepping into the quad. Holding a revolver in a shaky but firm grip was Thornhill – well, that’s what she was known as to (Y/n), but now she could tell whatever had happened at the academy during her absence was, undoubtedly, her fault. The bloody gash on Wednesday's forehead, too.

“I heard you butchered Tyler, (Y/n),” the teacher raised her eyebrows, smiling in a way that made the demon want to rip her throat out, “To be expected from an animal like you... But here’s the thing – animals are always hunted. While you can defeat a monster weaker than you, you can’t go against a hunter.”

Pressing her palm into Wednesday’s shoulder, (Y/n) pulled the smaller girl behind herself, growling menacingly, slitted (e/c) eyes glistening under the angrily furrowed eyebrows.

“You know... You are the victor after all,” Thornhill shrugged, as if completely unfazed by the intimidating display of demonic wrath in front of her, “That’s how it’s done in the wild, isn’t it? You won, and for that I’ll grant you mercy... If you step away from Addams. What do you say? You’ll get to live the eternity you were always so afraid of instead of exchanging it for a life of a mere outcast girl.”

“It’ll take more than a flimsy gun to take me down, Thornhill,” the angered oni growled, huffing a small cloud of steam out of her flared nostrils, “Your pet wasn’t enough, and you won’t be, either. Leave while you still have legs to walk on.”

“(Y/n), stop it. It’s not you she wants.” Wednesday said worriedly, moving to stand beside (Y/n), but the demon raised her arm up in front of the ravenette, not letting her step away from behind her.

The red – haired woman chuckled, her grip on the gun tightening, “Oh. Well. Too bad then, (Y/n). I always told you – you keep letting your emotions get in the way of right decisions.”

A shot rang through the yard, and Wednesday gasped, but the taller girl in front of her didn’t budge. A pool of dark red seeped through the demon’s haori, and she grinned at the woman in front of her, “Nice try.”

“Don’t worry. This was just a warning shot.” Thornhill tilted her head and pulled the trigger again.

Blood trickled down the demon girl’s stomach, and a small sputter of the crimson liquid left her mouth, turning the oni’s tusked grin bloody. Thornhill’s eyes widened, and she fired another bullet at (Y/n), hitting her in the shoulder. Blood spilled and skin broke, but she remained unrelenting, standing in front of Wednesday like a guarding brick wall.

“Why won’t you just die?!”

Suddenly there came a quiet buzzing sound, and a small bee landed on the barrel of the gun in the teacher’s hand. Then, the noise came louder, and a huge swarm of fluffy insects flew into the quad, clouding around the woman, making her shout and fire at the bees with no success. Turning her head, Wednesday saw Eugene walk up to her, holding his hand out and guiding the swarm.

(Y/n) could barely hold herself up anymore – she felt her knees buckle, back slouching, as if an invisible weight was pressing her down, and the oni’s mouth started to fill up with crimson liquid, making her choke and fall to her knees. She felt small hands grasp at her middle, trying to soften her fall, and as her back landed on someone's lap, (Y/n)’s half – lidded eyes met Wednesday’s.

“(Y/n). It’s just a few gunshot wounds. Why aren’t you regenerating.” The ravenette deadpanned, trying her best to keep her voice from wavering. But the demon was silent – she opened her mouth, and no sound came as she tried to greedily catch some air into her aching lungs.

“(Y/n), are you listening? You have one job. Pull yourself together and regenerate. Stop slacking off like you always do!”

Wednesday’s hands shook as she pressed her pale palms into the wound in the demon’s chest, desperately trying to stop the never-ending flow of blood. A clawed hand laid on top of hers, and (Y/n) coughed, furrowing her brows at the awful pain.

“Think I’ve... spent all the energy. Not enough to heal.” She wheezed, squeezing her eyes closed.

“Then make it enough, (Y/n),” Wednesday demanded shakily, hand moving to hold the demon’s face, leaving a scarlet imprint on her cheek, “Don’t you dare close your eyes. Don’t fall asleep, (Y/n). You aren’t done. Please.”

“Hurts so fucking bad,” the oni complained, but opened her lids in obedience, (e/c) orbs finding the face of the smaller girl above her, “This is... my first time feeling like this. I don’t like getting shot.”

“No one likes getting shot, you idiot.”

(Y/n) chuckled, and the sound quickly got overtaken by a violent coughing fit.

“You can’t die, (Y/n). You’re a demon, you’re supposed to live for centuries, damn you!” Wednesday felt her eyes water, a sob stuck in her throat, “I-If you die, I’ll go straight to whatever circle of hell you end up in to drag you out and then kill you myself!”

“Sorry, little raven,” the demon apologized quietly, “I wouldn’t have it any other way... You know you look way better in black than me.”

A single wet drop landed on (Y/n)’s collarbone, then another on her neck. The demon’s eyes widened – the small ravenette above her was crying. Her bottom lip shook, and she closed her eyes, bringing the oni’s bloodied palm to her cheek, leaning her face against the cold limb that was always so warm before.

“You can’t leave me. You promised you won’t.”

(Y/n) grunted. There were black spots dancing in her vision, but her misty (e/c) eyes refused to give up their focus on the girl above her. The picture was blurred and hazy, and she felt like there was a heavy stone plate lying over her chest, but the distraught look on Wednesday’s face hurt more than any wound ever could.

“You should’ve seen Galpin, though,” the demon grinned, delirious from the blood loss, “I almost ripped the guy to shreds. I would’ve done the world a favor by killing him, but I didn’t for... some reason. I think I’m getting soft. Because of you,” she coughed, voice turning raspier, “It’s always been like that for me. Learning to kill. Learning to conquer. But with you I think... I found a different purpose.”

(Y/n) leaned into the touch of Wednesday's palm, soft as a pillow, the most comfortable and tranquil of all places she could ever find herself in.

“I’m so tired, ‘Nes. You think I deserve to rest now?”

#wednesday #wednesday x fem!reader #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday x female reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday x reader #wednesday 2022 #netflix wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday x you #wednesday imagine #wednesday the series #imagine #female reader

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 3: GLORY HOLE Nico Robin x M! Reader

Requested by: anon ➡ Nico Robin and Day 3? With her devil fruit the possibilities are endless male reader. tw: mdni. glory hole. oral sex. cumming in her face. 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

She was tired. Tired of men, tired of people telling her she couldn’t do it. Tired of those names where she got called a “demon woman” just because being intelligent, rich, on top of the world. The many commentaries of how she got so high in a men’s world, would only infuriate her.

Nico Robin, the richest and most influential CEO of the biggest company in her city, acted as if she didn’t care. With long black hair and intense turquoise eyes that could pierce anyone’s soul, she would look at them with a smile of total calm and walk away.

However, sometimes when her feet hurt from walking on high heels all day, and her head gets too dark to even go to sleep… she has something special to ease the stress…

Bold lipstick in bloody red, makes her lips juicy. A tight black leather dress with matching thigh high boots, makes her body look irresistible. A long black coat that hides her inside, and a white wig has now covered her jet-black hair. It flows with the wind while she walks undercovered to somewhere where nobody knows her.

A tiny little window opens after she knocked on a total black metallic door on a random alley of her city.

“Miss All Sunday” she murmurs in between loud music coming from inside.

“Come in” a voice, calm and low answers back followed by the unlocking sound of such suspicious door.

As she walks in and the heavy atmosphere fills her lungs, the lights bathes her white wig with dancing colours and the scent of sex reaches her nose.

She walks straight to the bartender. “Welcome to Barroque works Miss All Sunday!” a men with funny make up salutes her, with a smile on his face and weird motions as he speaks.

“A Leland Palmer, please” Robin requests, without mediating much. She is there for different purposes, not to drink.

“Right away, honey!”

…

You are still unsure about this. Walking inside an unknown sex club, whose legal aspect seems to be lacking or non-existent, makes you wonder if you will keep all your organs when leaving.

Your boss insisted; you are there on a mission. “Find Crocodile, we need to create commercial relationships with him” she ordered you. You are not sure whether you are obeying her because of your salary or because of pure desire.

As you walk inside, and people around you dance in suggestive, almost demonic ways, you think is proper to start with a drink. After all, you aren’t used to see such public depictions of lust and carnality.

Without paying much attention to your side, you sit and wait for the fancy okama bartender to serve you.

But as if a million hands were crawling around your body, you feel the soft touch of a woman on your shoulder.

“Are you here alone?” she asks, with lapis lazuli eyes taking over your whole world. It reminds you of someone, but a heat rising inside you blurs your judgment almost immediately.

“I- ye-s” you stutter, and your cheeks turn to fire… when did you ever stutter in front of a woman? But she was beyond beautiful, she was deadly.

The deadly demon whose femineity seemed poisonous, stands up passing her hand from your shoulder to the other as she begins walking away. In an instant, she disappears behind a red velvet padded door, leaving you breathless.

“You should visit that place!” the bartender chimes, giving you a soft slap on your right cheek.

“What’s inside? I came here to find Mr. Crocodile” you stupidly comment, as if that man would give you any more information about his boss.

“Go ahead, Mr. Croco won’t be here until four am…”

You nod, standing up, walking towards the door as if you were being attracted like a moth to a light. Losing again your head to a woman… or maybe a goddess this time.

As you shily walk in, the heavy red door closes behind you. A long hall receives you, low crimson lights like a blood bath covers your façade and the sound of moaning reaches your ears.

A sudden calling, like the voice of sin, reverberates in your head. “Come here, I’m free”

You follow it into what looks like an empty room; that’s the same voice of that woman at the bar.

The chamber seems indeed empty, but there is a different type of material wall dividing it in half. In that wall, there is a single hole, small enough for a hand or two to pass.

Soon you pick up what this is; the so called “Glory Hole”. Is that women on the other side? If so, will she give you pleasure, then?

“Would you like to be pleased?” she purrs from behind the wall.

You smirk. Of course, you do. Desperately.

“Sure” you murmur, already releasing yourself from the belt torture around your hips.

The trousers are off. And immediately after you walk towards that hollow, your hardness throbs in between your legs. It is so arousing to be invited to sin, to disrespect by pure willingness of such beautiful woman.

“Dripping already? Let me see… come closer” she moans, passing her hand with dark cherry red long nails to reach for your length.

Straight away after she touches your tip, you shudder. Her hands are soft like flowers, and every time she places one on you it feels like it multiplies but thousands.

It doesn’t take much for your hands to be plastered on the wall, as she expertly pulls you to hell with her fingers around your shaft. She strokes, she taps the tip playing with strings of precum forming there. And the more she pumps, the more your legs start to quiver.

“Let me taste you ~” she purrs, pulling you even closer. So close your forehead hits the wall as she begins to lick the drops of salty desire sprouting from you.  

You are absolutely speechless, only grunts come out of your mouth and your hips repeatedly hit the wall around. You are dying to pull from her hair, as her soft lips allow your dick to go into her wet mouth.

She goes deep; your gland hits the back of her throat. Some little gagging sounds reach your ears, and you clench your hands into fists that softly hit the wall.

It’s warm; it’s tight. She swallows when you bury deeply into her mouth, her tongue also moves along with her hands that keep pumping at your very base. Your climax is close.

So, so close that at any minute you will explode. And she knows it, perfectly fine.

“Will you take my load?” you ask, in between panting and trying to delay your orgasm as much as possible.

“That’s up to you, dear. Where you wanna end it? On my mouth? On my face? On my breasts?”

“Ngh… such a whore you are… show me your face come on…” you growl, pulling slowly back to devise through that hole features you surely recognize for a second. But your release, and the spasms of pleasure that blur your mind take over…

“Good morning, Miss Nico. I wasn’t able to meet Crocodile yesterday” you apologize to your deadly boss.

She turns around. She had been looking through the big windows of her office.

“It’s ok, (Name). You should go back tonight to that bar” she says, playing with her soft hands. As soft as flowers, with cherry red nail polish on them ~

taglist: @stephisokay @henrioo @shuzuiikoii @bullbonez @fengxinwifutobecalled @i-started-reading-fanfics-at12 @crimsonlikeshellsing @weebare808 @thestarwasborn @bookandyarndragon @cyberdazetragedy @uzxotic @trouble-sistar @marimology💖

#nico robin x reader #nico robin #robin #robin x reader #robin one piece #nico robin op #robin op #kinktober 23 #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[honeyynymphh]

I had a thought for a fic and bc I love ur writing…

copia x mile high club

first of all, thank you so much!! mile high club certainly is not something I would have ever thought of but it did give me an idea so here it is! Inflight Meal Papa IV x FemReader rating: E words: 2600 tags: dom copia, cunnilingus, sex, fucking on the job, drinking on the job, dirty talk, cheesy af, there is no resemblence to canon like anywhere in this story lmao AO3

summary: as an air hostess you are used to strange people, especially when they have their own private jet. but this was definitely the strangest one.

also Copia still has his moustache because I said so! I know nothing about flying, this is pretty silly and it is not checked so sorry for any mistakes!

Straightening your skirt you stand waiting for the passengers to board the plane. Last minute you’d been called in to help on an overnight flight to Italy by Jack—the usual pilot you flew with. Apparently, some priest was travelling back to his hometown for an important ceremony and his crew were short a few staff members. You would have refused at such a late request, especially as you had to wear a completely different uniform. It wasn’t the airlines—apparently the priest had insisted all the crew fit in with the rest of his staff.

What an arrogant prick. 

But the money had been way above the norm and you rarely were asked to do private flights. And the uniform was not much different than your usual skirt and jacket. Except it was cerulean blue with little embroidered golden details—and a strange inverted crucifix emblazoned on the chest. You were just grateful it wasn’t a nun's habit.

You heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs to board and straightened your back, plastering on the practised smile. Many a jerk you’ve had to deal with and today would be no different—no matter how fancy an aircraft it was. You’d had a little snoop before. The whole aircraft was dark wood and detailed with the same shade of blue and gold. The jet was fitted with a main bedroom, kitchen, office and then the main seating area. God must be real generous, you think with a roll of your eyes.

The first person aboard is an older woman, her blonde hair styled to perfection and wearing a severe yet fitting suit jacket and skirt—all in black but detailed with the same hints of blue and gold as your uniform. She smiles at you and you gesture for her to enter, giving her a welcoming smile as you bid good evening. Next is a man…at least you think it’s a man. The smile on your face falters a moment before you right it again on your perfectly painted lips.

His dress is fine. He’s dressed all in black—though his jacket has the same little crucifix on it as yours—it’s the mask he wears that throws you. It’s silver, demonic and completely obscures his face.

Weird. But you were here to serve drinks and food, not care about the passengers and their odd choice of attire. The…man walks past you without a glance and settles into a chair before pulling out a rolled-up magazine from his trouser pocket.

You’re too busy still looking at him when a voice says, “Buonasera, Signorina.”

When you turn towards it, you’re met with a pair of mismatched eyes set in a face painted like a skull. But despite it, it’s still an attractive one and the man’s voice is pleasant—the Italian lilt to his words makes your smile genuine, if not a little bemused. He’s dressed in a dark blue suit, way too tightly fitting that it’s almost indecent.

He takes your hand, the soft leather that encases his hand is buttery soft and warm. He kisses your hand, moustache tickling your skin. He introduces himself as Papa Emeritus the Fourth before he gives you a smile and heads into the plane. You watch, bemused, as he greets the other two—the woman talking quickly and hovering around him like a mother hen. He waves her off with some words in Italian and disappears down to the back of the plane.

That cannot be a priest, you think. Maybe Jack got the information wrong. He looks too…you don’t even know. You rub at your hand. At least he didn’t seem like a complete asshole, nor had he started preaching—and really, that was all you cared about. You kept staring off down towards the back of the plane, mind still fixated on the mysterious man.

“You ready?” says Jack, ducking out of the cockpit.

“Huh?” you say distractedly, head snapping to look at the pilot. 

Another crew member has appeared, she’s wearing the same uniform as you and she’s standing there patiently waiting for you. You had only briefly spoken to her earlier, she had said her name was Sister Hayley you think. A nun. Not that the woman looked anything like a nun.

“Arm and crosscheck?” he says.

“Oh, yes, right.”

When miles above ground and flying somewhere over the Atlantic ocean you’re giving out drinks. The man in the silver mask declines anything, choosing instead to lounge on the plush seating like an overgrown cat while the woman—who had politely introduced herself as Sister Imperator—sat in one of the comfortable chairs at a small desk. You’d given her a drink—a gin and tonic—and then headed down to go find the enigmatic Papa Emeritus.

The office is empty and so you head to the bedroom, the door is closed and you knock politely before sliding it open. You find the man propped up on the bed, book in hand and a pair of glasses perched low on his long nose. He glances up at you and the darkly painted lips quirk into a pleased smile. It makes your stomach flip.

“Sir, would you like a drink?” you ask, standing there with your hands clasped in front of you. “Or something to eat?”

The man gives you a smile, easy and smug. Again you wonder why he was wearing such tight trousers. What the hell kind of church was he from?

“Si, wine, per favore. Anything from the stock in the kitchens. Pick something.” He gives you a long look. “Two glasses.”

“No problem, sir, anything to eat?” you ask. Fuck you wish he’d stop looking at you like that.

His painted lips quirk but he shakes his head. “Just bring the wine, signorina.”

You head to the little kitchen and randomly grab a bottle, simply picking one based on the label. You grab two glasses and then walk back towards the suite. You smile politely as you enter and place the glasses on the little table next to him.

“Is this to your liking, sir?” you ask, holding out the bottle for him to inspect. 

“Papa,” he says, leaning over to peer at the label before he nods. “Not ‘sir’.”

You pour him a glass and place the bottle beside it. “Is there anything else?”

He closes the book he is reading a throws it on the bed, you catch the cover—it’s in a different language but it has a picture of a goat and a pentagram on it. He waves a hand at the other glass.

“Pour yourself one as well, signorina.”

You frown at him. “That is kind of you, but I am working.”

The man winks at you, grabbing the bottle himself and pouring out a measured amount. You watch the liquid slosh in the glass.

“I promise I won’t tell,” he says, extending it out to you.

You take it and hold it awkwardly, the smile on your face fixed. You did not want to get in trouble with Jack and lose your job. But a glass couldn’t help and you’d attended to everyone. You sip it and Papa smiles.

Somehow you end up two glasses deep. It’s not enough to make you drunk but damn it’s enough to make you feel far too relaxed. And you’ve somehow found yourself sitting next to him on the bed. You really should go back though. But it’s been lovely chatting to him, he talks of his flock with affection and mentions Sister Imperator fondly.

“This might be a stupid question,” you ask, the wine having loosened your tongue, “but what exactly are you a priest of?”

He laughs and it’s such a pleasant sound that you can’t help but smile. You’ve grown used to his strange face and it’s somewhat endearing to watch the lines on his face move as he chuckles.

“Not a priest, dolce,” he says. “Once upon a time, si, but now I am Papa.”

“You say that like I should know what you mean,” you reply.

“Like the Pope.” He grins. “Less preaching about the good of man and much more sinning.”

You cannot help but laugh, it sounds ridiculous. “I thought god said sinning was bad.”

“We do not worship a false god of fabricated mercy,” he utters, voice low. You stop laughing at the serious expression on his face, but it melts away when he adds. “We worship the lord below who relishes in sin. We are human, si? So we should take comfort in the pleasures it provides.”

“You’re telling me you worship the devil?” you ask, breath hitching when he leans in a little closer.

“Si,” he says, eyes fixed on you. “And I fear I have not worshipped in his name today at all. Perhaps you can help me, dolce?”

Suddenly his mouth is on yours. You freeze a movement but when you respond, his hands hold your face and pull him flush against him. His mouth is urgent and hot against yours, tongue delving into your mouth while your legs tangle together. Your lipstick is smudged red over his face and you’re certain he’s covered yours in black—you can taste it on your own lips but it doesn’t matter. He kisses like he is worshipping, hungry and possessive. It makes your head spin and you completely forget that this is certainly a breach of conduct. Especially when he’s flipping you onto your back, dragging your legs to the edge of the bed as he pushes your skirt up to bunch around your waist/

“Sorry, dolce, but now I’m feeling rather hungry.”

You hear the snap of your garter belt and feel the tension ease around your stockings so he can pull your knickers down your legs. Before you can draw another breath his face is between your legs, his breath skating over your wet folds before his tongue is flicking against you. You moan, hands instantly grabbing tufts of his peppered hair between your fingers as he works some sort of ungodly magic on your aching cunt.

Fucking hell.

Your back arches as he draws the tension out, leaving you panting on the edge of delirium. His arms move under your thighs and pull you closer to him as he devours you. You pull at his hair and grind against his face, unable to stop yourself from seeking more glorious threads of pleasure to wind tighter around your core.

His mouth breaks away as he can come up for air. You stare at him with a heavy-lidded expression, taking in that wicked mouth all glistening and smeared with paint by your own slick. He looked like the fucking devil and you were more than willing to sell your soul if it meant he wouldn’t stop.

“Cazzo, your pussy is delicious, dolce,” he breathes, nipping at the inside of your thigh.

His face returns to press against your cunt. And that nose! It’s pressed against your clit, mouth wet and tongue searching while his moustache tickles your skin. You arch back and your hands grip the sheets as the plane suddenly rocks—turbulence. Fuck.

Jack’s voice floats through the plane’s intercom system, certainly a mood killer, but Papa doesn’t stop. 

“Please return to your seat, we are experiencing some mild turbulence.”

The craft rocks again but your eyes are too busy rolling into the back of your head as he eats you out like he’s on death row and you're his last meal.

You moan when you feel fingers, leather-clad ones, pressing into your pussy and stretching you. You bounce on his hand when you hit another pocket of turbulence, and his grip on your thigh tightens while the other hand is busy pumping into your wetness. Another pocket and another moan have you on the edge and trembling.

It doesn’t take much to have you rocking along with the aircraft as you come. You try not to moan too loudly and shove your fist in your mouth but Papa leans up and pulls your arm away from your face, that devilish visage hovering over you.

“Don’t silence such pretty sounds, dolce.”

You sigh, luxuriating in the waves that still ripple through you while the plane rocks again. Fuck. You feel his body move away from yours and you sigh. Your eyes had fallen closed as you relaxed but they snap open when you feel him crawl on top of you. He’s rid himself of some of his clothes—well, most of them. A heavily unbuttoned shirt was the only thing on him. You can see the hairs on his firm chest and when you feel his cock pressing between your legs you immediately spread them for him.

When he sinks into your welcoming pussy you moan. The stretch feels incredible and you desperately tilt your hips so he can sink in further. When he bottoms out, you both sigh. Papa has removed his gloves, and his large hands hold your hips, creasing the fabric of your uniform even further as he starts to pump into you.

You’re already so worked up and sensitive that you are already ready to come again quickly. Your walls are squeezing him and the sounds it draws from his lips are downright demonic. Your hands reach up to grip his shoulders so you can thrust up to meet him, both of your movements becoming hurried in your desperation for release.

“Do you want my cock so badly, signorina?” he growls, leaning over you and thrusting into you roughly. Your pant out a yes, or something that was meant to be a yes and only comes out as a string of incoherent nonsense as you nod your head fervently. “You have to come for me first, dolce.”

A hand moves between your bodies and he's rubbing at your swollen and sensitive clit. You cry out, not giving a single fuck that the entire plane can probably hear you. The plane rocks one last time and you hear the seatbelt sign turn off. But you are barely paying any attention to anything else except his cock buried inside you.

The tension in your core tightens again and with another deep thrust he has you coming apart for him. Your eyes shut as it crashes through you but he doesn’t stop. Your hands are gripping feebly at his shoulders, then the nape of his neck, his hair and then fistfuls of the front of his shirt to bring his mouth against yours.

You feel his cock swell within you as he growls against your mouth, teeth nipping at your bottom lips as his hips jerk. You feel him come, painting the inside of your cunt as he continues to thrust into you while his tongue does the same to your mouth. It’s desperate and you’re sweating in your uniform but you don’t care. It feels far too fucking good.

When the high finally eases and he rolls off you to lie beside you, you sigh in relief. Fuck that was something, you think.

“You call that worship?” you pant, turning your head lazily to look at him Your makeup and hair must be absolutely ruined because his is completely ruined. He looks deranged with his hair falling in his face and his paint all smeared.

He hums. “Si. My lord believes in the power of the female orgasm. Is there anything more divine than pleasure?”

You shake your head, mind still foggy with bliss. You utter the only words you can think of. 

“Did you still want your inflight meal?”

He grins at you. “Maybe in an hour or so, signorina. I just ate.”

#this probably isnt what you meant anon lmao #i looked at a lot of interiors of private planes and it made me depressed #wish i were stupid rich #fly to see the mutuals #the band ghost fic #the band ghost #papa iv x reader #papa iv x female reader #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #popia x reader #inbox <3 #my-writing

[the-scythes-pen]

Sintember Day 1: Obsession (Barbatos x Reader)

Ok, my excuse is that I only learned about this writing thing practically at the beginning of Sept 2nd... 👀 so sorry its a day late

Warnings: yandere behaviour; specifically stalking.

Link to the prompts here

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

Meticulous.

Things were orderly. Perfect. They always were. They had to be.

He wouldn't settle for less.

An entire notebook filled with beautiful Infernal scrawl, written almost like a recipe book in the way the notes had been taken.

The Demon of Time, some had called him. The one with the power to turn back the hands of fate, the one who could select any path he wished.

But this power... was never really useful to him. Sure, it could be interesting at times- but Barbatos found himself... quickly bored from using it.

So when Diavolo forbade him to use his power, he willingly accepted the muzzle of his master. He willingly allowed the leash of loyalty to be tightened around his neck- to be cuffed and chained, to be kept in sight. Truly, he didn't mind. After all, what was he going to do with his power anyway?

He often wondered why he even had it. Why him? What was the purpose of it? He had long since learned not to question something that had no answer, and yet-

He couldn't help but feel like his question was answered once he met you.

With this notebook in hand, bound in dragon leather and elegantly pieced together, Barbatos hummed a soft, foreign tune as he placed it carefully on a shelf within his room.

On the front cover read your name. Scrawled perfectly in Infernal, with a jet-black pen.

And within the pages of that book, lied your entire life. From the moment you were born to today, every single important, cute, and sinfully delightful moment of your life had been etched into the pages bound within.

Barbatos smiled to himself as he recalled the latest page he had filled.

It was a list of your favourite foods, from childhood to adulthood. Everything you liked and forgot, everything you tasted once and could never forget, to things you ate day to day....

Barbatos' long fingers took hold of another notebook that sat beside the one he had just returned. This, he deemed, would be his newest project.

A book of recipes, this time. The best ways to bake and cook all of your favourite dishes.

The butler smiled to himself, content with his decision. This notebook would suit you nicely.

He continued his hymn, humming softly in the confines of his room as he carried the journal to a desk in the corner; the flickering light of a candle sitting upon the dark wood the only light source within his room.

The song was haunting. It's tune one of sin and obsession. Of love and fear. And while his voice provided the melody, his pen added atmosphere. His thoughts, the lyrics.

The flickering flame on the table was snuffed; smoke rising from the memory of it's light. The Demon now sat in total darkness, save for the light from the moon that shone at his back.

Green eyes glowed in the black; whispering of dangers and disasters to come. The warnings only serving to add to the song that sung of your fate.

The Demon of Time had finally found a purpose for his power. It served as fuel for his obsession; for his love and devotion to you. It served as a way to ensure he knew all there was to know about you-

And to make sure you couldn't leave.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #otome games #reader insert #obey me x reader #obey me barbatos #barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x reader

[cocotaetae13]

A Deal's A Deal: J-Hope (M)

Warnings: Demon behavior. Smut. Creampie. Baseless allegations to further the plot.

Word Count: Around 4k

Summary: Feeling vengeful after seeing Jimin you think you'll have an easier time feeding from a jet-lagged Hobi. You have to get creative when he doesn't immediately fold.

A/N: I wanted to have this out much earlier. Sorry to keep you waiting! Hello to all my new followers (is it weird that I call you all my lovelies? Should I stop? lmk) and welcome back if you've been with me awhile. Thank you for taking the time to read my writing and I hope you enjoy. :)

You’re floating in the astral plane still sticky and disgusting from your encounter with Jimin. It dawns on you you’re not sure how long you’ve been here but you do know you’re still hungry. Conserving your power until you can get a decent feeding is going to be your best bet. You sit and start to wonder how the hell Jimin was able to send you here. Technically, he only said to get out of his sight so it wasn’t a direct demand to come here so…you just chose it yourself? You touch your neck where the invisible weight, their collar, sits and shudder when your fingers come in contact with the stickiness of Jimin’s release. You know succubi eat this regularly, however looking at it makes you pissed. He’ll never cum again after you rip his balls off and feed them to him. 

There’s a couple options for who you could visit next. While contemplating your next meal target you flick your hand and with a swirl of black you clean yourself up. You think about who you have the biggest bone to pick with next and  zero in on his location. He seems to be on his way home from overseas so you decide to be the first to welcome him. Plush leather cushions your body as you relax back into the seat in the vehicle next to him, making sure the driver can’t hear or see you for now.

“Get out.” Hoseok says immediately. You blink at him innocently only to find his eyes are closed. 

“How did you even know I came?” You grin. 

“I said get out.” he snaps. 

“Might want to keep it down or your handlers are going to think you’re crazy.” You mutter. “I only wanted to welcome you home anyway.” You click your tongue when he ignores you completely so you yank the airpod from his ear and put a hand on his thigh to gain his attention. He immediately stops slouching to throw your hand off. You smile sweetly when his eyes open and he looks at you in shock.  

You clear your throat.  “Welcome home, J-Hope.”

“Get out of her body.” Hoseok’s eyes give you a once over but he seethes through clenched teeth. “You’re so fucking inappropriate.”

You feign hurt, a hand clutching your chest dramatically. “But I thought you liked Amanda Seyfried.”  You’re immediately annoyed when he doesn’t respond and just turns his head away to look out the window. “Or would you prefer…Tinashe?”  You slip into her visage and feel a small thrill of victory when he can’t help but glance. You’re definitely still a man, Jung Hoseok. 

“I’d prefer you to give Jungkookie his soul back and leave us alone.” He snatches his airpod from you and slips it back into his ear. You roll your eyes when he lays back and shuts his eyes again. 

“You know I can’t do that.” You murmur through the speakers and directly into his ears. He scoffs and yanks them both out this time to glare at you. “You can always make a deal with me to exchange yours for his though.”

“What do you want?” 

“Why are you always so mean to me, Hobi?” You pout. “I’ve helped you out so much and this is how you treat me? You even slammed my head into the floor.” 

Hoseok reaches forward and squishes your cheeks in one hand. “Don’t. Your little tricks won’t work here.”  There’s a soft tap of your head against the back of the leather seat when he gives your face a little shake before letting you go.

“You can’t blame me for following my nature when your bandmate brought me here. I could be anywhere else in the world right now fulfilling wishes and devouring souls but I’m fucking stuck here playing house with you idiots until Jungkook dies.” 

“I don’t care about your problems. Get out of her body.” Hoseok demands and within seconds you obey. “I’m being patient when I really don’t have to be, demon.”

“I can just kill Jungkook now and end your misery.” You’re stone faced and his eyes widen in shock for a split second.

He scoffs again. “You think we’d let you do that? Is that just somewhere in your rules you can do whatever you want as long as you get the soul in the end?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You smirk and switch back to Seyfried’s body, resting your elbows on the arm rest and cradling your face in your hands to beam at him. You take note the effects of the command can be overwritten or wear off within a few minutes. What would happen with this power in the long term?  “More importantly, have you had a chance to show more of your true side to your fans yet? You seem to be more chic lately.  I’m sure they’re super curious what you’re really like when you’re…off the clock. Especially since you’re just so angry in private.”

“Bullshit.” Hoseok snaps. 

“Oh?” You blink innocently. “Weren’t you voted ‘Most Scary When Angry’? I’m sure you remember how they had to make you do something to make you more appealing since you were getting oh so much hate about your looks? It must be exhausting having to play the character of J-Hope all day. Aren’t you secretly still questioning if it was good for you to come back or not?” 

Your questions go unanswered when the van comes to a stop in front of his apartment building. He spares you one last glare before getting out. You click your tongue in irritation. Usually bringing up the past like this gives you enough of his bitterness for a decent snack but this time you barely get anything from him at all. Has he found a way to prevent you from feeding from him? Is that even possible?  It can’t be true that he’s gotten over it. Humans tend to ruminate and obsess over their flaws and insecurities their entire lives. Some who think they’ve been cured have in reality manifested the insecurity into another behavior. You were going to have to look into this further. That means you’re going to have to play a different game with the others to get them talking. Despite the strangeness of this you still pop yourself into his apartment. You spread your arms wide from his couch and send him a loud welcome when he steps through the threshold.

“Cleaners broke my salt line.” He grumbles to himself. 

“You can’t expect them to just leave a line of salt outside your doorway like that and be able to keep their jobs.” So he was trying to keep you out.

“Why are you bothering me?” Hoseok sighs, putting a hand on his forehead like he has a headache. 

“I’m hungry.” you pout, thinking the easy route may lead to success with him. 

“Not my problem.” He shrugs and turns away to take his jacket off. Damn it.

“Actually it is, Master.” You fume. “If you fuckwits hadn’t done that spell on me I’d still be running just fine on that soul Jin so graciously put on display for you all. So I need some answers.”

“Funny, none of that sounds like my problem either.” He laughs.

“You owe me, Master.” You snap, standing up and stalking toward him. Despite your midnight gaze bleeding through Seyfried’s to show you are indeed an otherworldly entity, the height difference between these two humans is comical. You even have your hands on your hips. “You’re to blame for everything I’ve done to you. Your members, your fans, and your family have you to thank for the misery I’ve caused in their lives as well.”

“Excuse me?” His eyebrows lift. 

“I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you.”  You split Seyfried’s mouth into a terrifying grin before he stalks away from you. 

He pauses for a moment and you see the hurt flash across his eyes. You get a tendril of the flavor of his sadness before he suppresses it again. Oh he’s been working on this. “You’re so full of shit.” 

“Am I?” You slip back into Tinashe’s body. Guilt tripping him in Seyfried’s body clearly wasn’t going to work. Maybe if you could press him a little more you can catch if there’s some underlying denial you can snack on. “Do you really think Jungkook would have summoned and made a deal with me if it weren’t for you deciding to leave? He was just a desperate kid trying to keep his new family close to him. What other choice did he have? Take responsibility for your part in all of this and I’ll even forget you slammed my head into the floor.”  

You were going to have to do something. The guilt he feels for “making” Jungkook that desperate wasn’t going to be enough to get full and you weren’t going to be able to push him further. You already know he’d already confessed his guilt to Yoongi who assured him he couldn’t be blamed. The tiny taste of his guilt is tainted by the bitter flavor of his hope. If feeding off of his despair wasn’t going to work then you’d have to try and go for whatever is going to turn him on. You were beginning to become frustrated with this pattern. Sex wasn’t your ideal method and once again you were going to have to use it to feed yourself.  “Give me what I want and you won’t have to worry about me bugging you…for a while.”

Hoseok hesitates before narrowing his eyes. You can see the gears turning in his head. “What do you want?” 

“You.” You purr, running a finger down his chest.  “Inside me.” 

“Not in her body.” He cringes and steps away to get a glass of water.

“Tsk, you’re no fun. Jiminnie likes it when I offer up different bodies for him to fuck.” Partially true.

“Then go to him.” He says simply, leaving you to fume at your mistake in the kitchen. Promptly you’re out of Tinashe’s body and back into your own, wondering if you shouldn’t have come here today. You’ve used more power than you wanted to in your attempts to rile Hoseok up and you’re starting to feel funny. You should have gone to Taehyung or Yoongi. Something is off with your body and you’re not sure what it is. 

If celebrities aren't going to work you are going to have to think and dig deep. Would your human-looking body work, or would he want you to go full demon? Would you even be able to turn him on? If not, would he use the collar and punish you enough to send you away? You weren’t going to have enough power to locate and pop to another member and start this shit all over again without feeding first. You were fucking stuck here. Who could you use to turn on and trigger sadness in Hoseok? Then an idea hits you. You creep around his apartment and find him in his bedroom. He’s sprawled across his bed on his back with an arm over his eyes. 

“I thought I told you to go to Jimin.”

How is he sensing you like this? You clear your throat. “It sounded more like a suggestion.”

His body starts in recognition of your voice…that voice. A voice he hasn’t heard in a very long time but could recognize anywhere. He removes the arm from over his eyes and sits up on the edge of his bed, expression crumbling from annoyance to disbelief.  Your stomach pinches at the briefest taste of his despair and you have to hold yourself back from doing something to give you more immediately. 

“How dare you.” He frowns deeply. “I should order you to smite yourself or something…”

“Haven’t you been curious at all?” You smile softly and tilt your head to the side against the doorway. You choose to ignore his comment because you’re confident he wouldn’t dare order such a thing while you’re in this body.  “Haven’t you wondered what she’s been up to all this time?” 

“No.” he says quietly. His bitterness tastes savory on your tongue and you bite your lip to keep from moaning. Ugh, why hadn’t you thought of this before if it was going to be this easy?

“It’s ok, I know you have.” You make your way toward him. “If it helps, she’s definitely regretting her decision to leave you. Three kids, a husband who is distant and works all the time and,”

You pause, tilting your head and looking to the ceiling. “Definitely cheating.”  You’re not even halfway to him when suddenly your back is against a nearby wall. You sigh and mourn the loss of the savory taste of his bitterness. “Hoseok-”

“Don’t you Hoseok me.” He snaps.  Excitement builds in your chest when you get the faintest taste of bitterness. He gives you a once over, lips turned down into his signature triangle frown. “You disgust me.”

“Sometimes,”  You take a deep breath and watch him steadily. Is he playing along? “Sometimes at night when the kids are asleep and I am sitting there, waiting for him to come home…I think about what my life would be like if I hadn’t left you. Additionally, I should have broken up with you in a better way. I made a poor decision.” 

He backs off you and puts his hands in his pockets. “A poor decision?” He laughs bitterly. “That’s what you call it? You think I would want anything to do with you now after what you’ve done, Choi Eunsil?” 

You gasp in excitement after studying his face, finding nothing but anger there. You didn’t think this would actually work, his dark eyes show he’s not fully there due to his rage. He has no clue you’re not the real aged up Choi Eunsil, who left him for another man long before he became J-Hope. You can’t stop your mouth watering in the hope you’ll be able to feed decently this time but you’ll have to be smarter about it than you were with Jimin. 

“I know you tried to quit…twice, even.” You coo. If you were with Jimin you would hug him now but you know better with Hoseok. You don’t emote outside of understanding when you see his jaw clench.  “When I read about it, I couldn’t help but wonder what they did to you to make you feel bad enough to leave. It seems they didn’t see you like I did.”

He crosses his arms and looks to the ceiling before responding. “How exactly did you see me?.”

“Someone who was going to do really great things, but would have been held back by a silly girlfriend who only wanted to have his attention and affection. Way too handsome to be hiding behind a silly mask.” You let your voice break and your eyes fill with false tears. “Go ahead and rub my unhappiness in my face. Scream at me about how much you missed me, how much I hurt you. I saw your interview where you talked about me and had such a bittersweet smile. I’m sorry you had to make that expression in front of the world. Tell me about how much you hate me. I want you to have closure.”

He makes you shiver when he steps closer and rests a hand at your throat. “I could never hate you.” He says softly, his eyes on your lips. It makes your excitement deflate a little and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. If you couldn’t get him riled up you weren’t going to be able to eat. You hold your tongue and see if he’ll be the conductor to his own downfall. Surely you’ve given him enough of a push to get started by now. “I would have fought for you.”  You swallow thickly when his fingers tighten in response. 

“Just like you fought for your freedom, right?” You smile softly. You take a deep pull from his sadness when he shakes his head in disagreement. “Don’t lie to me. You would have dumped me as soon as one of your managers told you to.” You don’t flinch when he gives your neck another squeeze.                  

“If…” He pauses and licks his lips. “If I had left and tried harder to get you back…?”

Jungkook wouldn’t have let that happen. You bite your tongue for once. “Kiss me, Hoseok.” When he does without hesitating you give him a show for effect so you can immediately begin drawing from his building energy. Surely it couldn’t be this easy. Was Hoseok really still hung up on his ex from so long ago?

You pull him closer, turn you both around and press him against the wall when you allow his eager tongue to slip past your lips. Deciding to move before he can gain the upper hand you slip a hand into his pants and under the band of his underwear, giving his quickly hardening length a loving brush with your fingertips. He trembles under your touch and it lights a fire in your belly, letting the sweet flavor fill your senses. 

“Hurry.” You stop kissing him long enough to whisper against his lips. It makes you feel like a glutton with the way you’re quickly attempting to feed from him. You don’t want to risk any distractions that could take him out of the mood so you stay focused on your task. His smile is blinding and he captures your lips once more, giving your wandering hands more access after he just steps out of his pants, kicking them out of the way.  

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmurs against your lips before dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “I still think about you, y’know.”

“I know,” You coo. Eyes bleeding black from the pleasure you’re getting from feeding so overwhelming you have to shut them quickly. A few blinks is enough to clear them again.

You decide a good reaction to the sight of him rolling to his knees and lifting up your dress is to brace yourself with a hand against the wall and blush, shyly meeting his fiery gaze as he slides your sticky panties down your legs.  

“Hold it.” he says firmly, placing the hem of your dress into your free hand. You clench the fabric tight between your fingers and choke on your breath when he immediately lifts one of your thighs to rest it on his shoulder, slipping his tongue through your slick labia and latching right onto your clit. Your legs tremble and you gush when he suckles steadily, lightning shooting up your back at both the sensation and the rush of the effect of his lust from your reaction. It’s thick yet light like cream and it settles deliciously in your stomach.

“Oh!” You gasp when two long fingers breach your entrance slowly. They slide against your most sensitive place, only picking up speed when you urge him further. You take your hand from the wall and run your fingers through his soft hair, giving him just a small push with a roll of your hips, hissing at the feeling of your systems coming back to life. This felt like it would be enough to get you back in business!

Since you have enough juice to keep you going you think it’s about time to finish this off. The next stroke of his tongue and fingers has you teetering on the edge of an orgasm you aren’t ready for, legs trembling and both hands clutching his head to your center. You cum before you’re able to distract yourself enough to stop it from happening, your pride overwriting even your need to eat further. You’d been so focused on feeding you hadn’t even noticed you were actually getting off on this. Even though J-Hope thinks he’s sucking the soul out of his ex, your pride as a demon couldn’t let this go.  

You’re gasping and cursing, pussy spasming around fingers driving you mad, blackened eyes looking to the ceiling before shutting in case he notices. He’s up and bites into the skin where your shoulder and neck meet, cock already out of his underwear and teasing at your still clenching entrance. He lets your leg rest in the crook of his arm. He looks down at your exposed and glistening lips and groans. “I can’t wait anymore, Eunsil.”

“Do whatever you want. I want you to feel good.”  You smile when he yanks you closer in his excitement to go further. He wastes no time fucking up into your cunt, groaning at the feeling of you around him. So wet and warm, almost uncomfortably so, Hoseok can’t think of anything else but finishing inside you, even if it would ruin everything. He whimpers pathetically when you plant the idea in his head, pushing the urgency to the forefront of his mind. His extremities are tingling, his mind is cloudy but he wants more. 

His greed sends a fresh wave of warmth through your system and you eagerly devour it, meeting his lips again, moaning for an entirely different reason than Hoseok thinks. Since he can’t see who you truly are it just spurs him on, using the other hand on your ass to push you forward to meet his thrusts and taking immense pleasure in how much deeper he can feel you and how your expression changes. Just so he can prolong this feeling just a little longer he slows down, resting his dampened forehead against yours.

“Still just as flexible I see.” he pants with a laugh. “You feel so good, I’m not going to last much longer.”

“I’ll always come back,” You lie. “You can be greedy for once Hoseok.”

“Fuck,” he gasps, hips speeding up. “I want to so badly.”

“Hoseok,” You tilt your head so your lips are at his ear. “You can cum inside me. I want you to.” He whimpers and clutches your body closer, tucking his face into the crook of your neck and babbling promises he’ll never get a chance to fulfill. At the last second he yanks your other leg up, squishing your body between his and the wall, filling the room with the sound of your skin clapping against one another. When he cums he groans loudly, rolling his hips into yours while you take large drags of his emotion. You envied those who could feed off of the euphoria he’s experiencing right now. 

He seems like he doesn’t have the strength to keep you both up so you bring your legs down yourself, cringing at the feeling of his release coating your thighs. Hoseok’s catching his breath but his eyes are on your thighs and you can even feel just a smidge of his lust again. Would it be worth it to go a second round or would it be too risky? Maybe if you have enough power back you could switch bodies so things didn’t get too messy. It was one thing to trick Hoseok into thinking he’s fucking his ex once but if it continues and he gets hooked then your deal with Jungkook could be in jeopardy. You lick your lips, feeling a little satiated from your time with Hoseok. You can go out and do some damage now.

“How about a shower?” Hoseok beams. His handsome face is glowing with the combination of his dampened skin, hair and smile. 

You inwardly shudder in disgust. “Get started and I’ll be right in after you.” 

As soon as he disappears through the doorway you’re hit with a wave of nausea. You stumble and have to brace yourself with a hand against the wall. Pain blossoms through your body and you clutch your stomach with your free hand, curling in on yourself against the pain. You’re startled to see those same symbols from the other day burned into the flesh on the back of your hands and rapidly spreading. You let out a squeak of panic because you’re not sure what to do. 

Then you feel it. The hunger was coming back full force. The amount you got from Hoseok wasn’t enough. Quickly you send a spell to wipe his memory as soon as he steps foot out of the bathroom to save your ass in case he went out looking for her or tried contacting her. You need more power to deal with the fall out that would create and you couldn’t risk it right now. You cry out in pain just as you’re trying to gather enough power to leave but feel the weight around your neck burning harshly instead. 

“Eunsil, what was that?” Hoseok calls. When you don’t answer he walks out of the bathroom holding a towel. He blinks in surprise to find he doesn’t remember why he came out of the bathroom in the first place. He’s met with the sight of his luggage placed near the entryway where he left it when he came home from overseas a few minutes ago. “Hm.”  Without questioning another thought he turns back to go take a shower.

You land harshly on the floor of an apartment that’s completely dark. Clenching your teeth you pull yourself up onto your knees, checking over your skin to find those symbols gone and the pain you felt before dulled significantly. However you’re hungry once again and your throat pinches when you swallow. Frustration burns through your veins. You didn’t understand what was happening to you and so far you’ve struck out twice while trying to find out.  The only options you could think of were to either try and go back where you came from and find a higher ranked demon to see if they’d help you, or keep trying to manipulate the remaining members into telling you what you needed to know. At this point you probably wouldn’t have enough power to go back and forth between realms that deeply. There’s no guarantee there’d be any spare souls for you to refresh yourself with before coming back here. You can’t risk it. You’re stuck.

“Where the hell am I…” You mutter bitterly. You’re quickly met with the sound of high-pitched, shrill barking. Surprised, you cover your ears and blink up at the bed before you. All you can see from your position is a mound of blankets and a mop of unruly hair. 

“Tannie,” a deep voice rumbles thickly with sleep. “Hush.” 

Tannie…. 

You blink several times. 

“Taehyung?”

There’s a moment of silence before the comforter flips off of him and he sits up, eyes wide in shock. His sudden motion gives Yeontan the bravery to start barking again. 

“Demon Noona?”

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

©cocotaetae13 2023. All rights reserved.

Prologue Jimin Next: Taehyung

#j-hope smut #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts hoseok #bts jhope #bts supernatural au #bts au #hoseok smut #bts demon au #bts angst #jhope angst #hoseok angst

[boo-moved]

Sorry I can't resist tag games ehe >< so technically I wasn't tagged, but I hope you don't mind @hawkeshep sorry

Doin' Dinlaselan Laim <3

Rules: BOLD what applies to your muse. Repost, don’t reblog.

-

BODY

Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Thick thighs. Muscular thighs. Skinny arms. Soft arms. Muscular arms. Toned stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby Stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Beefy/muscular frame. Voluptuous frame. Petite frame. Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails. Manicured nails. Dirty nails. Small breast. Average breast. Big breast. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Small waist. Thick waist. Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands. Small hands. Long fingers. Short fingers. Average fingers. Narrow shoulders. Broad shoulders. Average shoulders. Underweight. Average weight. Overweight.

HEIGHT

Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180 cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. Taller than 2 m.

SKIN

Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Freckled. Scars. Birthmarks.

EYES

Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Blue. Violet. Green. Gold. Red. Hazel. Doe-eyed. (<- think autism) Close-set. Wide-set. Deep-set. Narrow. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.

HAIR

Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly. Straight. Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped.(<- slicked back) Pixie-cut. Afro. Jaw length. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist length. Past hip-length. Buzz cut. Under cut. Bald. Weave. Hair extensions. Mohawk. Dreadlocks. Box braids. Faux locs. White. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blonde. Ombre. Light brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Golden brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet black. Ginger. Red. Auburn. Dyed. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows. Plucked eyebrows.

TATTOOS / PIERCINGS

Full sleeve.(<- post main game) Thigh tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. Back tattoo. Shoulder blade tattoo. One tattoo. Face tattoo. A few here and there. Multiple (vallaslin). No tattoo. Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercings. Earlobe piercings. Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Top of the ear. Tragus piercing. Angel bites. Labret. Stretches out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). No piercings.

COSMETICS

Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Red lips. Pink lips. Dark lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer. Wears make up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Rarely wears make-up.

SCENT

Floral. Herbal. Earthy. Fruity. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturizer. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather. Sweat. Food. Incense. Marijuana.(<- very rarely he smells of elfroot) Cologne. Whiskey. Wine. Fried food. Blood. Fire.(<- rage demon <3) Metal. Rain.

CLOTHES

Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Tights. Leggings. Yoga pants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt. Tight/Form-fitting dress. Cardigans. Tunic. Blouse. Button up shirt. Band-T-shirt. Sports-T-shirt. Sweatpants. Tanktop. Cut off t-shirt. Designer. High street. Leather jacket. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxidress. Sun dress. Tie. Tuxedo. Cocktail dress. Highslit dress/skirt. T-shirt. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Jean shorts. Sweater. Sweater vest. Waistcoat. Khaki pants. Suit. Hoodie. Harem pants. Basketball shorts. Boxers/Boxer-Briefs. Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. Bra. Sportsbra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Cotton. Linen. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels. Light colors. White. Black. Dark colors. Fur/Fauxfur. Revealing clothing. Heavy armor. Medium armor. Light Armor.

SHOES

Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Stripper heels. Bare feet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes.

Tagging: @secretly-a-possum @elliehodunk @moss-flesh and anyone else who wants in ^^

#tag game #Dinlaselan Laim

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Remembrance-Chapter 4

The next chapter of my Daniel/Armand fic. Read it below or here

Daniel sleeps nearly ten hours after he goes to bed. He's not as young as he used to be, and the jet lag is a bitch. But if his memories are correct, he should have no trouble adjusting to a nocturnal sleep schedule. At least for the few days it takes to complete the interview. He hasn't thought past that. He can't. He needs to figure out why he's here first.

It's something he tries to mull over before falling asleep, but sleep takes him quickly. When he sleeps, he dreams. Flashes of memories that meld into fantasy. Armand's fangs in his neck, his blood in his mouth. Armand's hand pressed in his hair, holding Daniel's mouth to his throat. Armand's teeth buried into his femoral artery.

He wakes with an erection, like some horny teenager. He refuses to do anything about it from spite. He's not about to touch himself thinking about someone who probably erased his memories. Especially when that person can read minds. Instead he takes a cold shower and does some work. He gets caught up in it for a long while. Eventually he gets bored and starts snooping.

Daniel finds himself in the dining room looking at the paintings. One catches his eye, of Christ surrounded by small imp-like demons. It's not bad, but he doesn't recognize it.

“It's Venetian,” a voice says. A voice Daniel would recognize anywhere. He turns and sees Armand, dressed all in black, wearing those same leather gloves and brown contacts. He's carrying around that Ipad. He looks good. Daniel hates that he notices, that Armand can still affect him after all these years.

“A contemporary of Tintoretto's.”

Daniel leans closer to read the name of the artist. “Marius de Romanus. Sounds familiar.”

“Does he? Little of his work survives. Mr. de Pointe du Lac covets the rare. Not many have heard of him.”

Shit, familiar for the wrong reasons then. One of them probably showed him this painting before. Luckily, Daniel is spared having to think of something to say by a loud, creaking sound. “Do you hear that? I keep hearing that sound.”

“Well, the building sways a bit, but that is according to it's design, given the height. We call it the groan,” Armand says, suspicion seemingly gone. Daniel thinks he may have dodged a bullet. Armand opens his Ipad—and what does he do on that thing anyway? Daniel wouldn't be surprised if he had cameras installed that he used to spy. Probably a good thing he didn't have that morning wank.

“It won't disturb your meal, which is ready now.”

Daniel can't help but poke a little. He wants to see how far this charade goes. “Did you always work for him?”

“Please have a seat.” Armand is dismissive, turning to leave.

“I mean, is it only work or are you an he...?” Armand has to give something away at that. Louis is one of the great loves of his life. He'd once told Daniel that he was the other. Daniel had been naive enough to believe him.

“I serve a god. It is my honor to serve.” Armand sounds testy. Daniel wonders if maybe his presence isn't having an effect after all. Armand rarely loses his calm front.

A risk-taker at heart, Daniel replies “Kinky.”

There's the very slightest twitch at the corner of Armand's mouth. Trying not to smile. Well, at least Daniel knows he still amuses him.

“Mr. de Pointe du Lac will join you at course seven,” Armand says, walking away.

“Seven, wait, how many courses are there?” Daniel says, but Armand ignores him. “Fattening me up for the inevitable end?”

Armand is gone.

As servants in masks come in carrying food and drink, Daniel is struck by another memory. It's years ago, back in the days when Armand was still playing that he would kill Daniel. Daniel arrives at the Copley to find Armand sitting in the dinning room. Daniel is led to his table.

“Daniel, please sit down. I've already ordered your dinner,” Armand says, the picture of politeness, save the vicious smile.

Daniel sits and plate after plate is brought and spread over the table. People are staring. “You know, I'm not really hungry. Wanna get out of here?”

Armand leans across the table like he's confiding a secret. “I didn't know what you would like, so I ordered everything on the menu.”

Daniel blushes beat red. Armand's smile becomes giddy. He's enjoying this, the bastard.

“You think you can drive me crazy, don't you?” Daniel snaps, suddenly furious. “Chasing me around the globe. Well, it won't work. Every time I see you, you annoy me back to sanity.”

He jabs his fork at the closest dish and tears into it savagely. He eats some from every plate, a little of this, a little of that. What does it matter what he eats? He's Hansel in the witch's hut being fed candy.

Armand leans back and crosses his arms across his chest, laughing and laughing. It's the first time Daniel has heard him laugh, and it's silky, seductive. He tries not to think about it, not to let his eyes linger on Armand's smile. He's not crazy enough to be attracted to a man who wants to kill him. Still, he drinks his wine as quickly as possible, hoping to get drunk fast.

Daniel puts the memory out of his mind. He's more interested in the servants putting down cling wrap on the other side of the table. He wonders what that's about, but doesn't ask. Figures he wouldn't get an answer. He sits through course after course, watching the staff come in and prepare Louis's side of the table. There's a box with a blood bag brought out and prepared for Louis, who arrives after six boring courses.

“There he is,” Daniel says as Louis steps in. Something seems off about him. “You missed at least three or four endangered species.”

“I want to apologize for my outburst earlier. I can assure you, it will not happen again.”

Daniel wonders if he's talking about when he called him disrespectful and not worthy of his story, or the tear. He's not going to ask. “Memory is a monster. We forget, it doesn't.”

He sets up his tape recorder as Louis sits. Asks for the music to be turned down. It's great for atmosphere, but terrible for recording. The servant brings out a fresh plate of food. It's hard not to think of the staff as servants, when Louis is this absurdly wealthy. This is super hero billionaire wealthy. If he gets any richer, he'll need an arch nemesis. Daniel isn't really listening while he describes the food.”

“...and AB negative fresh from the farm. Bon appetit.”

That bit catches Daniel's attention. “Part of me wants to ask about the farm-”

Louis cuts him off, “Two vampires walk into a church. That's where we left off.”

Well, Daniel can ask about the farm later. If Louis wants to get down to it, he wants to hear. “Blissing out post priesticide.”

Louis begins his recollection, tells of the pain of the transformation, of Lestat's blood giggling inside him. He describes feeling as though he spent his life as a dead man and could now receive the secrets of existence. It...sounds familiar.

“You were fucking loaded.” Daniel says. He's been high enough to recognize being high when it's described to him.

“Beyond articulation.”

He talks about Lestat taking him hunting, how he was a baby bird desperate to feed, but not ready to hunt. Daniel wonders if that's what he would have been, had Armand gave in and turned him. But of course, Armand had never even entertained the idea. Naturally, Louis refused if Armand refused. Daniel had always knew he would, but he had tried it once, during those early days of him and Armand being together...

/

Technically, the apartment belongs to Daniel as his name is on the lease, but Armand pays for everything. Or Louis and he pay for it together. Daniel doesn't know. If Louis or Armand were a woman, he'd say they were married. But men can't marry men. They both get confused when he tries to apply human terms to their relationship anyway.

It's all very new, this thing. Louis has only came around a few times. But he's here now in Armand and Daniel's apartment. Of course, he has his own place with Armand. They are basically married. And it does cause Daniel some anxiety, from time to time. Armand's known Louis longer, he has to love him more. What if he gets tired of Daniel? What if Louis gets tired of Armand being with Daniel?

Daniel won't be with them forever. He's only mortal. Why settle for a human when there's a vampire waiting at home? As much as he's adrift in a sea of jealousy, he does like knowing there will be someone to love Armand after he's gone. Someone to love Louis too. He thinks that's why Armand left them alone together tonight, to bond. Armand is out hunting, while Louis had drank deeply from Daniel to not need to.

Daniel should have been more hesitant, after the first time, but he was all for the idea. Louis has been skipping meals lately. And Armand was there to supervise.

He had watched the whole exchange rapturously. It only made it more erotic, and Daniel had begged, begged Armand to come over and touch him. But Armand had told him to wait until after he came back, had kissed him and whispered into his ear all the dirty things he would do upon his return.

That was thirty minutes ago and Daniel is getting antsy. He supposes he could take the edge off with Louis, but he doesn't know if that's allowed. Armand hasn't exactly discussed the rules. What are he and Louis, anyway? It feels like a conversation they should have at some point.

But that's not the conversation he wants to have with Louis.

“Hey,” he says, nudging Louis with his foot. Louis in on the other end of the couch reading. Reading Les Miserables, which he's already read before, so Daniel doesn't feel bad interrupting. Louis glances over at him and smiles, like he's just remembered he's there. He tends to get in his head, sometimes.

“Yes, Daniel?” He sticks his bookmark in the book and closes it. His tone is all indulgence. It sort of makes Daniel's heart flutter.

“Can I ask you a hypothetical question?” he asks and crowds closer to him for good measure. Fuck it, why not be brave? He swings a leg over Louis lap so he straddling him. Louis's hands come to his waist. Daniel hopes this is okay. (He'll realize later, Armand probably got him all worked up and left them alone so something would happen. But, of course, Daniel has to ruin it.)

“What would you—hypothetically—think of me as a vampire?”

Louis frowns. “We're not doing this.”

“So if I asked you-”

Louis moves him off his lap and sits him down. He's angry now. Shit. “You think I'd go behind his back and do that?”

No, but Daniel had to ask. Had to try. “You don't get it! You get to have him forever, and I have what? A few years, until he gets sick of me?”

Daniel slides off the couch, stomach twisted in knots. He buries hands in his hair and paces the room. “I wanna be with him forever. Why doesn't he want that too?”

Louis sighs, anger seeming to ebb out of him with it. “Daniel-”

“Forget it, man,” says Daniel. “I get it. You're forever; I'm temporary.”

He storms off before Louis can respond and doesn't return until hours later. When he does, Louis is gone and Armand and he have an awful fight. It ends in Daniel crying and Armand leaving. When he returns the next night, Daniel forgets about the fight, so happy to have him back. The next week, Louis joins them and things are back normal.

Daniel never broaches the subject with Louis again.

/

Louis tells Daniel all about his first kill, going out into the sun and burning, Lesat and the coffin.

“Helluva bender,” Daniel says. The more he hears about this Lestat, the less he likes him. He's almost entirely sure if Louis or Armand turned someone, they'd show more care.

“He rushed me headlong through the encounter as if it were something to put behind us,” Louis says. “Death, rebirth, coming out, homicide, too many firsts for one night.”

Louis deserved better than that. It's Daniel's first thought. It's the next he says aloud. “Coming out? You robbed a daughter of her father, maybe a pet pony. How's sexuality play in that?”

“It's a complicated question, Daniel, and we shouldn't conflate it with the salesman's death.”

“Humor me,” Daniel says. If it's heading where he thinks it is, Louis may be more fucked up in regards to his sexuality than Daniel ever was.

“To satisfy your fixation, being transformed by Lestat, being desired by him, bedding down with him, was an overture of sorts to that side of my nature.”

“To the shame of queer theorists everywhere,” says Daniel. Louis is indeed fucked up. He was rushed into coming out before he was ready. Daniel wonders if vampires have psychologists. Surely one of them had the clever idea to turn a shrink or two, just to keep up their mental health.

“I got in that coffin of my own free will. In the quiet dark, we were equals.”

Daniel grabs the mic and speaks into it sarcastically, “White master, black student, but equal in quiet dark.”

Jesus, did Louis not know how he sounded?

“Provocation,” says Louis, and he's not happy. “Is this the primary tool one walks away with after downloading your Internet class?”

Okay, so the Internet class is a little hackneyed.

The staff come in and deliver more food. Food for Daniel. Louis gets a fucking fox. It sounds distressed. Poor fucker. Daniel feels sorry for it. But it's only Louis trying to provoke him, and Daniel's not going to let him. He's a goddamn professional.

“Back to the salesman for a sec,” Daniel says. “Clearly, you were haunted by it, the taste of his blood in the back of your throat, up in your gums.”

What is he doing? He's too old to be playing this game with Louis. But Louis knows him. He asked for him for a reason. He knows Daniel won't stop until he gets the truth, no matter how many buttons he has to press.

“Let me ask you, Daniel, do you contemplate the life of the rabbit before you cut it? Or do you simply cut?” Louis is stroking the fox as he speaks, almost as though petting it. Then he bites into it and blood spurts out. He looks at Daniel with intensity as he drinks, pulling back with a bloody mouth.

It'd be more effective if Daniel didn't know it was all theatrics. Hell, he's wasting more of that blood than he's drinking.

“Vampires are killers, apex predators whose all-seeing eyes were meant to give them detachment, the ability to see human life in its entirety, not with any mawkish sorrow, but with the thrilling satisfaction of being the end of that life and having a hand in the divine plan.”

“Don't expect every reader to swallow that one.” Daniel says.

Where does he begin to poke holes into Louis words? Do you contemplate the life of the rabbit? No, but he's never been a fucking rabbit, has he? There's a clear difference. And mawkish sorrow? What was mawkish about feeling remorse for ending a human life? Daniel's own human life had once been quite valuable to Louis. That's not even getting into the mention of the divine plan, because Daniel isn't touching Louis's Catholic guilt with a ten foot pole.

“That's the purpose,” says Louis. “Our book must be a warning as much as anything.”

And why do people need a warning? Why now? What exactly has Louis worried?

Louis wipes his mouth, but it's still a bloody mess. Then, like a flip has been switched, Louis continues “It was the right line of questioning. I was haunted by the salesman, and as a fledgling vampire, I did not readily take to killing.”

Louis keeps talking, about his want to retain some measure of humanity, of not wanting to separate his life. Of his mother and Grace. And then he gets to the part with the man who dared call him an 'exceptional Negro.' His voice becomes elevated, containing actual emotion.

“I had powers now and decades of rage to process, and it was both random and unfortunate, the man picked that night to dabble in fuckery. If not him, it would have been the next man.”

It's a nice line. Readers will like that a lot better than the other bullshit. No one liked racists except racists.

Louis continues his tale and Daniel lets him, scribbling notes furiously. Until he gets to the baby.

“I no longer kill,” Louis says. “My last victim was in the year 2000.”

“Some Y2K disagreement?” Daniel snarks. Who gives a shit about that? He wants to know about the baby.

“I want our readers to understand that.”

“Okay,” Daniel says, “Did you eat the baby?”

“I sit here a master of my instincts.”

“Mm-hmm,” Daniel doesn't bother the try to sound like he believes him. He remembers that first night they met, the pain of Louis's fangs in his neck, the sureness he was going to die. “And what about the others out there? Have they mastered theirs?”

“Just the opposite,” says Louis. “Most of them are slaves to the blood, exhausted from decades, centuries of hiding, giddy to increase their numbers.”

There's that superiority complex Daniel remembers.

Daniel ignores the staff coming in and pouring Louis more blood, setting up a chair beside him. He has more important things on his mind. “Two questions—did you eat the baby? And is the pandemic the opening they've been waiting for?”

“Pandemic, the unraveling of geopolitical foundations.”

“And you know this how? You guys have a thread on 8chan?” Daniel says. Louis and Armand had always been so careful to keep information of other vampires away from Daniel. Too afraid he'd seek them out to try to have them turn him and end up dead. Daniel's glad for it now; it's something he would have done back then.

“I hear them,” says Louis. “Our thoughts can travel thousands of miles to one another. I can stand out on my balcony, close my eyes, and they're plotting speeds to me.”

“Why?” Daniel can't help the question that slips out. Why would they want to come for Louis? Armand makes sense, Daniel can recall him mentioning once that he killed fledgling vampires. That would have to piss off a few vampires, especially those that turned them. But Louis? What was his crime?

Louis doesn't answer the question. “One of them, a brute in Madagascar, calls it 'the great conversion'.”

“The great conversion?” says Daniel. A few decades ago he would have been all for it. “Well, good luck with that, because most people I know like to play a little ball in the afternoon, or maybe go down to the beach, catch a few rays.”

“Yes. What on earth would a meth-addicted son of a coal miner in West Virginia want with eternal life?”

A solid unit of a man comes and sits beside Louis. Daniel has a sneaking suspicion what he's there for. He needs to work faster; there's no way he'll be able to keep a clear head watching Louis feed from some guy. Just the thought brings up memories he has to trample down. “Did you eat the baby?”

“Or the Arab youth whose family was wiped from existence...”

“Did you eat the baby?”

“...by a Western drone.” Louis continues like he hasn't spoken. He turns to the man next to him. “Hello, Damek.”

“Hey,” says Damek, and it sounds familiar. Louis has most certainly done this with him before.

Daniel doesn't want to look, but he can't tear his eyes away as Louis bites into Damek's neck. It makes him think back to years ago, of the times Louis had drank from him. One moment in particular stands out...

/

Louis has been in one of his moods, so he's staying with Daniel and Armand. Daniel had suggested it when Armand told him he'd have to leave for awhile. He thought the change of scenery could be good for Louis.

He's been right so far. Louis's mood has improved in the week since he's been here. It's improved enough to lead them here, in the bedroom. Daniel is spread across blood red silk sheets, Louis slotted between his thighs and fucking him lazily. Armand is just out of reach in a black velvet winged back chair, watching them intensely. Daniel is watching him watch them and everything feels soft and hazy.

He's a little high, but it's only from some weed he smoked earlier to help get the creative juices flowing. Instead it made him horny as hell and he had declared if one of them didn't fuck him, he would die. So he finds himself here, stuffed full of Louis' cock with Armand's eyes burning into him.

Daniel moans and digs a heel into the back of Louis' thigh. The thing about vampires is they have stamina for miles, and didn't mind taking their damn time. Armand has been known to fuck him through one orgasm and right into another before he finishes himself. Louis usually isn't so cruel—he'll give Daniel what he wants, if Daniel asks nice enough.

Desperately, he reaches out to Armand, but Armand is just out of reach. Daniel wants him. Wants both of them at once, both inside him, stretching him and filling him up. They've not done that yet. Louis is always so careful of him, he'd never agree to it. Armand doesn't mind getting a little rough with him; he can see inside Daniel's head to know exactly when enough is enough.

Daniel whines and Armand chuckles. Daniel knows Armand is telepathically telling Louis what to do to him—this show is for him, after all. “Come on, baby. Please.”

He isn't even sure who he's asking at this point.

Louis's mouth trails along his clavicle, over his shoulder, up to his neck. He mouths there, kissing and and sucking. Daniel grips unto his shoulder and tosses his head back in offering. Armand is sitting cross-legged, only his dilated pupils indicating he's affected by what he sees.

“Bite him,” he orders Louis simply.

Louis does so at once and Daniel digs nails into his back, whole body jerking in pleasure. It's good, it's so good. He's on fire and burning in ecstasy. Louis drinks from him in long pulls and it sends jolts down his body. Usually they only take a little, not enough to affect Daniel's health. And doesn't Louis normally stop by now? Daniel doesn't care; he feels like he's floating. He's dizzy and drowsy and his vision is beginning to go spotty.

Dimly, he can hear Armand speaking. “Enough, Louis.”

Louis doesn't stop though, and Daniel's eyelids feel so heavy, too heavy to lift. He'll just rest them a second.

When he opens his eyes, Louis and Armand are outside of the bedroom door and he is on his back in the bed with the covers drawn around him. Armand looks furious, angrier than Daniel has ever seen him. And he's never seen that anger directed at Louis. Daniel can barely hear their low whispers.

“He fainted,” Armand says, soft but incensed. “If you'd been feeding properly, you wouldn't have lost control.”

Louis looks aghast and guilty. “I stopped when he passed out. I'd never hurt him, you know that.”

He sounds more like he's trying to convince himself.

Daniel doesn't like it. He doesn't want them fighting, and he's fine, really. “Hey,” he calls out and both turn to look at him. “It's my fault. Forgot to eat. Got caught up in working.”

Louis takes a step forward. “Daniel, I'm sor-”

He doesn't get to finish his apology before Armand has stepped into the room and closed the door in his face. He's practically radiating fury. Daniel figures the space is probably as much for Louis' benefit. Armand can be vicious when he's angry; he wouldn't want to turn that anger on Louis.

Then, Daniel is in Armand's arms on the bed with gentle fingers running through his hair. He still feels so sleepy. He snuggles into Armand and closes his eyes. “Don't be mad. 'M okay,” he slurs, before falling into sleep.

Louis doesn't drink from him for a long time after that.

/

Damek doesn't seem to enjoy it the same way Daniel did. He tries to start a conversation, for one, something Daniel normally didn't have the coherency to do. Unfortunately, he speaks in Russian.

Louis pops off with a wet squelch. “He's American, Damek.”

“You like Dubai?” Damek asks as Louis returns to his neck. The way Louis is slurping away over there, Damek is going to need a juice box, like they give out after you donate blood.

Daniel is too caught up in it to respond immediately. “I, ah, I haven't had the time to sight-see.”

This whole display is probably meant to make him uneasy. It makes him uncomfortable, but not in the way he imagines Louis intended. He's glad for age and the steady supply of alcohol keeping his arousal from showing.

“Go to Kite Beach,” Damek says. “It's good. Kites.”

Louis pulls away and pats Damek on the shoulder. “Thank you, Damek. See you soon.”

Damek stands and sways.

“As I was saying, I no longer kill.”

“You might have a drinking problem,” Daniel says, watching as Damek steps forward and reaches for the wall. He breathes heavily and looks ready to faint.

“Rashid!” Louis calls. Damek hits the floor with a grunt.

Daniel glances over long enough to see his chest still rising and falling. He'll be fine. Back to more important matters. “The baby.”

Louis says he didn't eat the baby. Daniel isn't sure he believes him.

Louis goes on to talk about Lestat, how Lestat likes it when he fought back, how there was a kind of worship on Louis' part. And doesn't Daniel understand that? Had he not seen Armand as some sort of wicked god in those early days? A god or a devil or both. And hadn't Armand first loved him because he fought back? How they had fought in those early days, before he'd admitted his feelings.

He goes on about those early years, his distaste for the hunt, the kill. The death of an opera singer whose mind he read as he died. How Lestat had a way about him, how he was under his power.

“Lestat was wrong. I was never going to be a natural. I was never going to savor the aftertaste,” Louis says as dessert is brought out. “I was a shame-ridden second, a fumbling, despondent killer, a botched vampire.”

It reminds Daniel of the old days. Louis would fall into these self-loathing moods. Back then, Daniel had never truly understood it. Being a vampire was akin to being a god. Why should Louis suffer so? He lacked the maturity to understand. Had believed once you became a monster, surely things like human guilt would disappear. But Louis always had the bit of humanity clinging to him, didn't he?

“I try to have a human dish once a week to maintain the thread,” Louis explains, as the food is placed before him. That's new; Daniel can't recall Louis ever doing it in the past. Sometimes, he or Armand would have Daniel feast on a certain food for days before they feed from him. That's as close as he remembers them getting.

“There was an offhand remark in your memoir about this dessert. I hope you don't mind.”

Daniel recognizes the desert. He'd had it with Alice, yes, but it wasn't the first time. That had been with Armand. Maybe some subconscious part of him had tried to recreate the moment with her. Though his memories of her are nothing compared to what he remembers of Armand.

He loved her though, he's sure of it. He just loved Armand more.

“What's this taste like to you?” Daniel asks, curious and needing to keep his thoughts in line.

“Like almost all human food—like paste, like chalk, like soap.”

“This is the dessert I had after I proposed to my first wife, after I got my shit together.” Daniel confides. After his memories of his time with Armand disappear. Would he have loved Alice, if he remembered Armand? “We were in Paris. Little cafe on the Rue Servandoni, up the way from Saint-Sulpice.”

“I know it. It's a beautiful street.”

Of course he knows it. Daniel vaguely remembers Armand mentioning something about riding around with Louis on a Vespa on that street, in the early days of their courtship. They had walked together along the street, Armand warm from a fresh kill and Daniel beside him, arms brushing. They had talked and talked, and Armand had taken him to the cafe to eat. Daniel had a habit of forgetting to eat in those days. Armand had ordered him this very dessert.

“Alice—half of her eyebrow was blonde, like a mutt. She always dyed it back to brown,” Daniel says, but he thinks of Armand. Of how he would wear those brown contacts when they went out in public to blend in. How Daniel had preferred when he didn't bother. “I liked it when she left it alone.”

Daniel suddenly aches acutely for the past.

He closes the laptop. That's enough reminiscing for one day.

#iwtv fic #daniel molloy #armand #daniel/armand #armand/daniel

[z-iridest]

Quest of the Phoenixborn- An MHA Fantasy AU fanfic

Chapter 1- Revelry in the Dark:

Now, my reader, this story does not begin the way you'd expect. Instead of starting in the royal city of Endylon, or near it, our story begins in the dark kingdom of Khazadum. I know what you're thinking: Isn't this the dark kingdom from before? Isn't this kingdom's ruler responsible for the fall of Embermore? That is true, however, our hero wasn't raised... Well, as a hero. For you see, 15 years prior, a baby had been born, sired by the only remaining member of Embermore's royal family: Princess Akaida. But, the child's father, had been the Demon King in disguise. Much like the Ancient Grecian King of the Gods, Zeus, had done many times before, the Demon King had disguised himself in a mortal body to create an heir to his dark throne. But unlike the King of the Gods, the Demon King had a dark purpose for this heir. His heir, with proper teaching, would continue his treachery. His heir was to be a shell, a vessel for him to continue his cruelty. As a newborn, this heir was ripped from her mother, stolen away and taken to Khazadum. It was there that our hero grew, half demon, and told that her mother had abandoned her due to her half demon appearance. With eyes like rubies, mid back length, jet black hair with tips blood red in color, massive bat-like wings and a demon form so massive it nearly rivaled her father's, all in Khazadum knew to fear the young princess or die. But... Very few knew that the child was not what her father had wanted her to be. Instead of cruelty, the child showed kindness that those in Khazadum had never known... And many a time, it had angered her father. Many a time, the princess had been forced into her demon form so that her father's rage may fully punish her. In fact, it had happened so often, that the child became disfigured by her demon form. The leather of her wings gained holes, scars littered her entire body, the worst of which covered the left side of her face from her hair line, across her left eye, and to her jaw. Talons grew instead of nails, and scarlet gold feathers stuck up unnaturally in her hair. Though she had been told that she was a curse, a monster... Princess Hinotori remained curious about the world outside of Khazadum. She longed to see the world, though her cruel father forbade such a thing...

But, we wouldn't have our story if she'd obeyed...

Hinotori approached the window of her dark, lonely tower, able to see the day's first light breaking over the horizon just beyond the borders of Khazadum. Curled up next to the window was a jet black dragon, a whelpling that served as Hinotori's only companion. Hinotori giggled softly as the little one stretched its body and wings. "Good morning. Do you think today might be the day? Are you ready to try flying?" She asked. The little dragon crawled into her waiting hands, chirping in a manner that told her the answer. Her smile dropped for a mere moment. "Are you sure? It's definitely going to be a good day to try. If I picked a day to try flying for the first time, this would be it. Endylon is having a ball in a few days in honor of the young prince's birthday. It could be fun!" Hinotori had only heard from patrolling demons about the annual party in the royal city of Endylon, and while they went on and on about how disgusting the celebrations were, it couldn't sound more fun to the princess. As she described the events to the whelpling, she noticed that the whelpling dragon flapped its wings harder and harder, straining as it lifted off of her hands and into the air. Hinotori giggled mid explanation and showed the whelpling her hands before laughing again and catching the little dragon as it landed again. It chirped at her, as if asking for her to go with it. She shook her head. "As much as I desire to go, I can't. Father would be more furious if I ever left my tower, let alone the kingdom." Hinotori stopped, sighing. "Although... It would be fun just to have at least one night with no responsibilities hanging over my head...." Shadow chirped again before a knock sounded. "Come in." Hinotori answered the knock, turning as it opened and a woman stepped through.

"My lady, if it's only one night you require, why let your father stop you?" It was the dark witch, Plasmia, although Hinotori knew her simply by a different name:

"You know why, Chizuki. He'd burn down the world if I ran away from home and hid." She replied. Plasmia snorted in retort.

"He'd do that anyway, regardless if he was looking for you or not. You've done nothing but follow his every word since you were young, you deserve this chance." Plasmia told her.

"And why would you help me with this?"

"Hey, believe it or not, even witches like me aren't all bad. Besides, life isn't a spectator sport. You'll watch your life go right by without you if watching is all you're gonna do."

"You've got a point, but he'd never let me out of the tower, even if I asked."

"And who said you have to ask? You sneak out, have fun and sneak back in. He'd never know you were gone."

"One of the demon scouts would recognize me."

"Not if you wear a disguise."

"What if I got caught?"

"Better to ask forgiveness than permission, little princess." Plasmia pointed out, the princess hesitating for a moment.

"Well..."

"No one wants to stay couped up here forever, little bird."

"You know what... You're right. I'll get cleaned up, walk down the tower steps, and through the doors and-"

"What're you blabbering about now?" Hinotori jumped at the voice and froze when she saw the captain of the guard glaring coldly at her from the door she'd just opened, his fist raised as if he was about to knock. While he had magic that could decay anything he touched with all five of his fingers, Tomura Shigaraki had been charged with protecting Hinotori's well being until she was of age to take the dark throne. "Don't tell me you're still going on and on about going outside. It's that little whelpling, I knew I should've dusted it when I had the chance..."

"Leave Shadow alone, you know he's my friend." Hinotori barked, her eyes glowing red and her hair turning to flames, only to shrink when a dark presence entered the room. Her father was right behind Tomura. Plasmia dropped to a bow, forced to do nothing but listen as the Demon King spoke to his daughter through a dark shroud.

"You will listen to Tomura, daughter. You have no idea how cruel and wicked the outside world is. That is why darkness must cover this world." Her father's voice spoke from the silhouette.

"There's not really a point in my taking the throne unless I at least meet the people I'm supposed to be ruling over, is there?" Hinotori asked, her gaze locked on the ground below her. "Besides, you let other demons patrol outside our kingdom, why can't I-"

"Most of the demons I send out never come back, cut out of the sky by the very people you are curious of. I am trying to protect you, foolish child. Do you know what will happen if the people outside our kingdom see you like that?" The shadowed figure pointed to Hinotori's looks, reminding her of the toll her half demon form was taking over her. Hinotori hugged herself out of instinct. "You would be shunned, a demon's child could never fit in among the others. They would kill you if they knew what you truly were... In darkness you were born, in darkness you shall remain. Not even your own mother wanted you, and this is the thanks I get for raising you?"

"A spell of disguise would fix my appearance..."

"Hannya!" Hinotori flinched at her father's use of her demon name. She hated the name, but it was the one he used whether she liked it or not. "You are to never speak about the outside world again." After a moment, Hinotori spoke softly.

"Yes, Father... I'm sorry." Hinotori apologized.

"You are forgiven, my daughter. Remember, this tower is your sanctuary." The Demon King replied before leaving the room, Tomura following suit without a second glance to the younger princess.

"My sanctuary..." Hinotori looked out her window. "Yes, I'm safe here... But, at what cost? I don't fit in with the people I was born among... It feels more like I'm imprisoned rather than I was born to rule this kingdom like I'm told is my purpose." Hinotori looked at the little dragon. Shadow chirped at her, nuzzling into her hand. The action made the princess smile as she pet the whelpling. "All I need is one night. If I have to spend the rest of my life couped up in this castle in exchange, I'd gladly take it." A clinging came to the princess's ears. When she turned, a gold amulet was in the witch's hand.

"This will disguise you. No one will be able to sense you as half demon unless the amulet gets ripped off... Not even your father would know it's you." Plasmia told her before placing the amulet around the princess's neck. Instantaneously, the dark haired, ruby eyed child was transformed into a young woman with scarlet gold locks, golden eyes and when she let out her wings, they were no longer the leathery wings she knew. The wings were feathered, the color of the feathers the same scarlet gold as her hair. In place of her talons were human hands and feet, the rest of her body having no scarring. A soft gasp left her when she caught sight of her reflection. Plasmia smiled. "When you wear this amulet, you're not linger Hannya the half demon Princess of Khazadum. You are merely Hinotori. Best leave this evening if you want to make it to the royal city in time."

"You're not coming?" Hinotori asked her. Plasmia shook her head.

"It's best if you leave alone. I have duties here, if I leave suddenly with no explanation, it'll look suspicious." Plasmia explained. Hinotori removed the amulet for the time being, nodding.

"I understand, thank you, Chizuki." Hinotori responded, getting a nod in return. That night, the two women met up again, this time, just outside the tower door. Chizuki fastened a cloak around the younger girl before giving the girl a satchel.

"There's a fresh change of clothes in there and gold in case you need it. Should be enough for the time it'll take to get there... If need be, you can always hunt for food. Make sure you stock up on potions the moment you get into a town and please be wary of strangers. Not everyone will be kind outside of Khazadum." Plasmia told her. Hinotori covered a giggle.

"It's not like you to fret over me like a mother hen, Chizuki." She teased, making the female go bright red.

"Oh, hush." Came Plasmia's embarrassed response, making the younger girl giggle even more.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing. You're the closest thing to a sister I have." Hinotori told her.

"I just want you back safe and sound so my ass doesn't get tortured in eternity or something. Safe travel, Hinotori." Plasmia told her, her arms crossed over her chest. The sound of boots echoing through the hall cut off what Hinotori was going to say next. Swaggering through the halls toward the two women was the turquoise eyed, black haired bandit that held what was left of Plasmia's heart... Dabi. His face held its own scars, and it had been Dabi who had tended to the younger child's scars when she first gained them. Chizuki hid Hinotori in the shadows.

"Where's little bird?" Dabi asked Plasmia.

"Asleep in her tower, where else would she be?" Plasmia sassed back. A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest, pulling the woman he loved close to his chest.

"Just makin' sure, doll. Don't want ya to lose that pretty head." Dabi eased her, pressing kisses down her face and neck.

"Dabi, not now. I'm supposed to be guarding her." Plasmia squeaked, smacking him across the chest and causing him to laugh. Ignoring the rest of the conversation, our hero set out, determined to break free of the chains her father had on her.

With careful, but quick steps, the Princess of Darkness moved silently through the night, determined to reach the edge of the only home she'd ever known, unseen by her people. Before long, she reached the wall that separated the Demon Kingdom from the rest of the world. With the amulet around her neck keeping her disguised, the half demon princess jumped from the wall. Gravity brought her to the Dark Wood's Forrest floor below, her hood falling as she rolled. Springing to her feet, she dusted herself off and began to run, the cape flowing behind her as she did so. A smile crossed her face at the cold evening breeze that blew on her face, the girl looking up to watch the moonlight dance between the trees. Once she was far enough, she slowed to a walk, drinking from the flask of water provided for her. She had a lot of distance to close if she was to make it to the royal city in time... As soon as the young girl cleared the border of Khazadum, she made camp for herself, taking a rest, but upon sunrise the next morning, Hinotori was on the move again. Before long, she'd reached the ruins of a kingdom she'd only heard about in war stories... Embermore. The moment she set foot inside the ruins, she felt a rush of sadness and a different emotion she'd never felt before... Belonging? Why did she feel as though she belonged within these ruins? She felt her sadness turn to rage. She knew her father was responsible for this kingdom laying in ruins... She could practically hear the screams of its people from when they were slaughtered, the demons who'd helped vanquish the royal city ruthless in the slaughter of every last one... From men and women who tried resisting the onslaught to children hiding with their grandparents or elders to try to remain safe, no one had been spared from the cruelty...

"Hinotori..." The teenager turned this way and that, trying to find where the voice was coming from. Who was calling her? Shadow peeked out of the princess's cloak, the whelpling sniffing the air.

"You hear it too, right?" Hinotori asked, getting a chirp in response.

"Hinotori..." The voice called again. Hinotori followed it to the center of the ruins, not noticing the watcher in the shadows following her from afar. In the center of those ruins, my dear reader, was a sword, stuck into the ground next to a coffin, a coffin that held Queen Zarina. Though it had patches of rust, for being stuck in the ground for 30 years, it seemed to bekon our hero closer. As if in a trance, Hinotori answered its call, her hand reaching out to grasp the black leather wrapped hilt. With little effort, she lifted the sword from its place, watching in awe as the sword seemed to renew itself in her hands, becoming a sword perfectly made for her and her alone. The rust disappeared, the hilt became decorated with an intricate design of a Phoenix rising from the ashes, the blade seeming to ignite with Phoenix flame as it revealed Hinotori's demon form for a split second. The light died down after a moment, but the sword remained in its renewed state.

"For many years, I've watched as travelers of all kinds have tried to free the Blade of the Phoenixborn, and yet, I didn't expect a half demon such as yourself to be able to free it." Hinotori turned at the sudden voice, poised in a position ready for battle. Her eyes watched as the stranger revealed himself. His body was one of a normal human, the same height as her, and yet... His head was one of a bird, black feathers adorning most of his head and face, a yellow beak and crimson eyes that seemed to pierce her own. A black cloak was wrapped around him, hiding most of his body from Hinotori's line of sight and making him look intimidating to most who saw him.

"How do you know I'm a half demon?" Hinotori asked, a glare prominent on her face.

"Your human appearance faltered for a moment when the sword was inflamed. Since I was watching the whole time, I saw your demon form. Now, who exactly are you?"

"I could ask the same of you." Hinotori shot back. He seemed to glower at her before it faltered after a moment, the boy bowing his head.

"My apologies... I am Fumikage... These ruins have been my family's home for a while now. Since the day a scarlet haired stranger showed us this place, we've been guarding the sword you now carry. She assured us that only the rightful heir to the throne of Embermore, the Phoenixborn, could pull that sword. But, it seems our job is complete, now that you have been found." In the shards of a shattered mirror, Hinotori caught her reflection. Resting upon her forehead was a silver circlet, adorned with a singular ruby, the crown of the last Phoenixborn.

"I can't be... There's no way..." Hinotori trailed off. Her? The Phoenixborn?

"Now that I'm taking a closer look at you, you look like the child that was stolen away from that same stranger... She set out from here toward the Dark Kingdom to find her daughter, but that was nearly 10 years ago." Fumikage mused. Hinotori shook her head.

"No... That isn't me. My mother abandoned me because of my half demon appearance." Hinotori told him. Fumikage hummed for a moment, not quite believing her before Hinotori gave a cry of realization. "I'm so sorry! I didn't introduce myself! My name is Hinotori."

"It's a pleasure, Lady Hinotori." Fumikage bowed again.

"Oh, please, no need for formalities." Hinotori told him, gaining a smile from her new companion.

"Very well... But, forgive me if it slips out every now and then."

"I'll remind you." Hinotori smiled, following her new companion to meet the rest of Fumikage's company. And so it was that in the ashes of Embermore, new bonds were forged. As the princess's company grew from two to four, she had no idea the changes fate had in store for her.

Taglist: @qweenexplosionmurder13 @euphorical-angel

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#mha #fantasy au #cannon x oc #Hinotori Shigaraki #Quest of the Phoenixborn

[banisheddie-moved]

FIRST MEETINGS MEME

a   meme   for   first   meetings   and   introduction   threads,   aka   a      ‘      what   you   will   notice   about   my   muse   first      ’      cheat   sheet.   repost,   don’t   reblog.   bold   what   applies.   fill   in   details.      (      please   do   not   remove   the   credit      +      blank   meme   link      )

tagged   by      :     no one <3

GENERAL   APPEARANCE

Gender:      Masculine.   Feminine.Non-Binary.   Notes:   he/they pronouns

Race:   caucasian

Complexion:   very   pale      & a few freckles scattered around his face

Height:   5'10"   or   178   cms   

Body   Type:   Endomorph.   Mesomorph.   Ectomorph.   Other   /   More   Details:  

Body   Build:   Small.   Medium.   Athletic.   Muscular.   Soft.   Curvy.   Voluptuous.   Other   /   More   Details:   long   legs   Body   Hair:   None.   Shaves/Waxes.   Trims/Grooms.   Untamed.   Color:   light brown   Notes:   can only grow like a lil bit of stubble on his face.

Head   Hair:   None.   Buzzed.   Short.   Medium.   Long.   Very   Long.   Color:   jet   black.   Style:   worn past his shoulders with curly bangs, wears it up in warm weather or doing mechanic work

Eye   color:   dark   brown,      almost   black.   Details:   long, pretty lashes

Scars:   two jagged scars on the left side of his jaw in parallel with another on his throat. skin grafts around that same area, a smaller one on top of his left pectoral & beneath his right, a much larger one from beneath his left pectoral down to his ribs, another smaller on the right side of his stomach; two more on his right arm that distort his puppet & bat tattoos, one on his right thigh, & multiple half crescents across his stomach, chest, & down his arms.

FASHION

Fashion   Style:   Vintage.   Traditional.   Casual.   Artsy.   Vibrant.   Geeky/Nerdy.   Tomboy.   Sporty.   Trendy.   Preppy.   Girly.   Bohemian.   Elegant.   Formal.   Grunge.   Punk.   Rocker.   Gothic.   Other:      quite honestly his style in any modern verse is very similar what it is in canon.

Color   Palette:   black, red, silver, dark, deep blue.

Typical   Clothing:      distressed jeans, a band tee, and/or his battle jacket, reeboks & rings, black bandana in the back left pocket

Piercings:   both lobes pierced twice, industrial piercing on his right ear, brow bar on his left bar, ball piercing on his tongue

Tattoos:   a swarm of 7 bats on his right forearm, a wyvern on his right bicep, a black widow on his chest on the left side, a demon head on his left pectoral, a severed clawed hand which puppets a demon on the inside of his right forearm, an upside down cross below his navel, & 1986 across the knuckles on his right hand in gothic font

Other   Information:      all of the adjustments on his clothing are done by his hands; repairs, patches, cropping, etc

EXPRESSION

General   Facial   Expression:   resting, pouty lips, expressive brows

Default   Body   Language:      loose, almost theatrical movements

General   Movements:      toys with his rings, jiggles his leg, tosses hair off his shoulder.

NOTABLE   FOR   RP

Presence:      can be very off - putting to those who don't know him, intimidating & obnoxious, especially in large settings, but that's kind of how he likes it. doesn't want to seem mean & scary & unfriendly, just...known. if you do know him though, he's typically mirthful..

Appearance:   tall & lean with confidence in their walk. their posture may be a bit off from all the time they spend hunched over a desk creating, writing & crafting. if they see someone they care for, he’ll shoot them a toothy grin.

Scent:      weed, leather, cigarette smoke, sometimes grease from his work with cars, & cheap, musky cologne

Voice   Description:      a deeper register but not total baritone. it goes higher & raspier when yelling.

Accent:      yes/   no.      More   information:      standard american accent.      

Speech   Mannerisms:      shortens their words a lot i.e. takes the “g” off of words ending in “-ing,” you becomes ya, to becomes “t’” and becomes “‘n,” etc. heavily sarcastic, even more so if he cares about who he’s speaking to. cusses often. sometimes has an eclectic way of speaking.

Anything   else   to   add?:      big adhd, can’t sit still for long so there’s a lot of fidgeting all the time.

#🎸͓ . ⸻ › ooc ! #🎸͓ . ⸻ › about !

[danicadenniss]

Na’ Luzia Rio Garcia-Naruto

Aliases: Luz, Lu, Mija by her mother and her father, Clover, Cloverleaf, Cloves, Clovis, Clovie, Vitiligo Girl By School Bullies

Elements: Earth, Lava, Fire

Abilities: Earth Bending, Lava Bending, Fire Bending, Sun Breathing, Flame Breathing, Stone Breathing, Lightning Generation

Occupation: Student At Titan City School

Date of Births: March 24th, 2007

Species: Human

Gender: Female

Ethnicity: Afro Asian Latina (Afro Puerto Rican, Chinese Jamaican, Indo Trinidadian)

Height: 4’10

Hair Color: Dark Auburn/Dark Ash Blonde

Eyes Color: Hazel

Skin Color: Mid Tone Brown Tan

Skin Type: Dark Freckled, Light Vitiligo

Family Members: Na’Coda Naruto (Father), Stella Mia Garcia-Naruto (Mother), Niagara Naruto (Partial Aunt), Blaze of Domino (Partial Uncle), Na’Kai Naruto/Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/The New Limbonar (Partial Oldest Cousin), Chief Navajo Naruto (Partial Grandfather), Novae Naruto (Partial Grandmother), Unnamed Great Grandmother✝️, Unnamed Great Great Grandmother✝️, Kumora Naruto✝️ (Ancestor), Naruto Ancestors✝️, Gloria and Savannah Garcia (Maternal Grandmothers), Karen Sara Garcia-Clark (Maternal Aunt), Trudy Elena Garcia (Maternal Aunt), Calvin Lucas Clark (Maternal Uncle), Leonardo Santiago, Marcus Carlos, Megan Paola and Antonio Pablo Clark (Maternal Cousins), Mr. & Mrs. Garcia✝️ (Maternal Great Grandparents) Unnamed Maternal Great Great Grandparents✝️ Garcia Ancestors✝️

Love Interest: Jennifer May O’Neil

Voiced By: Olivia Olsen

Appearance:

Na’Luzia Rio Garcia-Naruto is an Afro Puerto Rican, Chinese Jamaican and Indo Trinidadian pre teenage girl, (later teenage girl to young woman ongoing season), with slim athletic muscular physique, she is same height as Michelangelo’s, shoulder length texture dark auburn and dark ash blonde ombré dyed hair with right side bangs, kept in mini braids with small navy blue hair ties, thick dark brown eyebrows, hazel eyes, mid tone brown tan, dark brown freckles on her cheeks, light tan vitiligo on her forearms, under her right eye and her lower legs, a small notch on her right eyebrow, round red orange lips and a red orange lava kanji birthmark/tattoo on her right wrist. In the beginning of The Terrible Zero in first civilian clothes, she wore three ebony black metallic hoop ear piercings on her right ear, a black tattoo choker, around her neck, a dark gray acid wash torn denim jacket with 3/4 sleeves and small collar, under her jacket, a mid cropped black tank top with orange Four Nights At Eddy’s print on it the middle, (parody of Four Nights At Freddy’s), jet black graphic cargo capri pants with burgundy graffiti snake print on the it left front pocket, navy bluish black leather belt with silver metallic buckle around her waist, burgundy and black checkered crew socks and black combat boots with dark gray laces and soles the end of The Terrible Zero, in her second outfit She wears pairs of small navy blue diamond star studded earrings, two silver ear piercings on her left ear, sliver Creature Slayers ebony black checkered and navy blue wave yin yang necklace around her neck (Parody of Demon Slayers), a ebony black onyx cord braided bracelet on her left wrist, a cropped red hooded sweatshirt reddish orange 3/4 sleeves and a white jaguar print over it front and back, under her sweatshirt, a cropped burgundy turtleneck sleeveless top with black stripes, a grayish black ripped capri jeans with dark gray cuffs, small Pokeball and demisexual lesbian pride patches on its left side front pocket and right side back pocket, reddish brown leather belt with a sliver buckle around her waist, red ankle length socks with black stripes and burgundy slip on the sneakers with white soles and white stars print on them. She carries a red backpack with white straps and a yellow and blue Bondyo star tsunami keychain on the bottom of it’s zipper (Parodies of Ponyo).

Personality:

Clover is a strong, kind hearted, eager and geeky tomboy.

Trivia:

Clover is a fan of anime.

Clover is demisexual lesbian in TMNT 2012.

Clover’s ethnicity from Caucasian to African/Southeast Asian Latina descent.

Clover is mixed race as Dougla and Hakka descent

Clover’s favorite are red, orange and black

Clover dislikes boys flirting her.

Clover dislikes being bullied/mocked by bullies.

She is WLW Pride with Jenny.

She is a little bit bad science class.

She is good at Art and Spanish classes. She speaks Spanish.

#tmnt 2012 #totally spies #clover totally spies #totally spies clover #afro latina #asian #afro caribbean #indo caribbean #lesbian pride #wlw love #wlw #demon slayer #demisexual #demiromantic #puerto rican #jamaican #afro asian #chinese

[forcesmajor]

Xavier Erfolog

Dhampir (sub-race of nephilim). Protector of Dundalk forest and the Morois.

I hereby swear: I will be Margrave's Sword, extending his arm to strike down evil. I will be Margrave's Cup, offering my blood to our mission. I will be Margrave's Mirror; when my enemies behold me, let them see his face in mine. I hereby promise: I will serve with the dhampir's courage. I will serve with the dhampir's justice. And I will serve with the dhampir's mercy. Until such time I shall die, I will be nephilim. I pledge myself in Covenant as a nephilim, and I pledge my life and my family to the Clave of Dundalk.

XAVIER ERFOLOG; GUARDIAN OF THE NEPHILIM

They of the blood of the nephilim, who wield the heavenly fire, feared so exiled, will bring deliverance for the sons of Erfolog, the race who betrayed their own blood. And he who leads them will feed him blade with the blood of the princes of Hell.

Personal informations:

Nephilic name: Xavier Erfolog

Mundane name: Jonathan Crane

Title/s: The hells slayer, Moroi's guardian.

Status: Single (Hetero)

Species: Nephilim (Dhampir with 50% concentration, 20% human and 30% archangel)

Places lived: Hungaria, China, Russia, United States and France

Birthplace: Dundalk

Hometown: Kingdom of Margrave

Current residence: Le grand château du Margrave

Birthdate: 29 November 2219

Age: Physically late thirty, exact age is unknown due to constant time traveling.

Allegiance: House of Margrave

Social Status: Head protector of Margrave

Appearance

The Erfologs were unlike the normal dhampirs, as their angel blood (carried by their archangel concentration) permitted them to live for a long period, perhaps until they deem it necessary to meet death— Xavier's body is boundless by time as he is immortal. He had chosen to stop advancing at the age of 39, thus his rather young appearance. He possesses an otherworldly allure, with piercing, ice-blue eyes that seem to conceal centuries of knowledge and an unsettling hunger that he inherited from his father. His angular features are both alluring and intimidating, framed by jet-black hair that falls to his shoulders in a disheveled, windswept manner.

However, he masks his blue eyes with contacts sometimes that serve as a shield for his dream-manipulating ability. Whenever Xavier uses his ability, his eye color also changes depending on which dream he had to inflict, the most often seen were dark brown with gold specks and green with silver rings around its pupils when he performs a rather safe to less harmful dream manipulation; however, his eyes turn into burgundy when he decides to use nightmares to cause incapacitation, or even death.

He is also always seen to be wearing a golden amulet with the words fortis in anima on one side, and their phoenix sigil on the other. Another item that is never seen out of sight from his body is the Erfolog Insignia Ring. It does not only contain his seal but the ring works the same way the clockwork angels have had. It is a special item that has been blessed by an Archangel's appointed representative to protect them from harm and empower them if needed. Xavier's insignia ring was blessed by his own great great grandfather, the Archangel Michael.

As a dhampir, Xavier wears black during missions and strigoi or demon-hunting. His favorite outfit usually consisted of a black that was specifically made for him, either a hooded coat or a black leather turtleneck jacket, black pants and knee high black leather boots with gold ensembles. The unpierceable shield that can deflect poisonous attacks. The boots are feather-light that allows Xavier to maximize his speed and agility.

Xavier's body is usually adorned with silver scars from the war, although these silver scars only last no more than a day as their blood would dilute any markings on their body. However, he also has permanent scars, scars he received during his birth, that look like tattoos, by which he hides through glamor. Unlike most dhampirs, he could appear to the supernatural kind with a halo and has wings if he wanted to.

Battle

Been training since: Age of three

Weapons: Seraph blade that answers to Michael, Widowmaker, Crossbow, Chakrams, Katana

Style: One on one combat, strategic attacks, can fend off 5-8 simultaneous attackers; range missile combat; eliminates his opponent as swift and as clean as possible; fluid and graceful

Strengths: Planning war/battle tactics, strategies, tries to anticipate attacks, speed and agility, precision, excellent arm strength, diplomatic skills, observation and deduction

Weaknesses: Overexerts himself, impulsive, goes on suicide missions alone

Legionair: Neeve Erfolog

Early life

Xavier was born in Dundalk, Margrave the year 2219— the third child of Charles and Elisabeth Erfolog. Xavier was two years younger than his elder twin brothers, Xander and Xenon, and two years older than his younger sister, Xandrina. Xavier was said to have been born with the phoenix mark on the left side of his back in alignment with his heart, a symbol that only the chosen Erfolog regent possessed. The full realization of the extraordinary circumstances occurred at the moment of Xavier's birth, the brightest fire they had seen ever since heavenly fire descended from heaven, descended unto the infant Xavier. Though all of the Erfologs were blessed with the heavenly fire, naturally flowing in their veins, his was the most remarkable. The Dundalk and the entire kingdom started to fear him as they had never seen something like this before. His birth marked the first rebellion of the dhampirs and moroi against the Erfologs; but their family was a solid foundation of Margrave, one that not only hailed from a direct line of archangels and nephilim, but also from the best dhampirs to ever live: the Carstairs from his mother and the Erfolog from his father's side, so it was easily suppressed. However, that did not stop some of their kind to misjudge their intentions. What they didn't understand, they feared.

Xavier began his training at the young age of three, especially administered by the two brothers, in preparation for his future – a move frowned upon by the few from the Clave who knew. He had made his first kill at the age of five. When his father brought him to the Academy of Beijing to comfort his Aunt Lucinda, whose only son had died of a Strigoi ambush in Beijing, Xavier killed a half demon half Strigoi that had attacked him outside of the building. Swift and clean, his father said. As he was still little, he had shivered when his survival instincts subsided, but never a tear fell. It made Charles proud but when the news came to the most skeptical dhampirs, they worried about what he could do. However, their complaints remained murmurs, for the consul was a Carstairs, an uncle to Elisabeth, Charles' wife and Xavier's mother.

However, not long after he had celebrated his seventh birthday, he witnessed the death of his childhood friend, Sam Ravenheart. Sam had been a fanatic, his arduous follower, even at such a young age. He practically worshiped Xav. One day, he begged him to show him the skills. He had been forbidden then by his father to brandish his learnings as he was still young and his lessons a secret. The denial of his skills gave Xav an itch to prove himself to the council. Xavier, who couldn't resist the bloodlust clawing inside him, brought Sam to Dundalk Forest. Sam was two years older than him but still a child. Unprotected, innocent and untrained, and in a very dangerous place. While Xav created a poor imitation of a demon out of loam, Sam disappeared from behind him. He tracked Sam, Xav's young body shivering in fear, until he had found Sam slumped on the ground, a few meters from him. He must have broken his ankle. Xav was about to approach him when something that seemed like a blur knocked him down to the ground. Everything after that happened too fast. Something out of nowhere sweeped his friend from where he had sunken and brought down its claws on the young boy's frail body. No more than a few seconds later, Sam's body grew limp, bloody — his insides hanging out like a dog's tongue from his mouth. Out of rage, Xav attacked the mad werewolf and killed him with his anger channeled through fire from his hands. Summoning all his strength, Xav levitated Sam and brought him back to Margrave, only to receive people's judgmental stares. Some looked at him with confusion but more regarded him as a threat. They were afraid, and what they were afraid of, they must eliminate. This was when the Erfolog were voted off for banishment from the country of Margrave. Their relatives protested, including some of their closest family friends, however, the decision of the council and Morois was final and unfair. He was accused of a crime he didn't commit. The law is hard but it is the law.

And so, the Erfologs were banished from Margrave and fled to Schönen, a dhampir country founded by his great grandfather and the morois, by which they had only lived peacefully for three years before they had been chased out as well. Schönen, though twin to Margrave, was far from it and also heavily-guarded, but as soon as news had reached its inhabitants of a dangerous family, his uncle was murdered, and the Schönen dhampirs rallied outside the gates of their castle, demanding for their evicted, if not, their death.

Xavier was ten when they were completely shunned off by the dhampirs society. They fled from Schönen when his uncle Straton had been murdered and sought refuge in Valicant, eastern border of Margrave. There, the angel Caleb appeared to Charles in a dream, instructing him to travel back in time with his family. Unfortunately, Elisabeth, Gwen and Sven, the brothers’ wives were unable to follow through immediately, seeing that they were only relations by marriage, thus having the brothers stay behind to retrieve their experimentations back in Margrave.

Journey back to the Margrave

While the older ones were delayed, Xav and his cousins, who were already submerged in time travel, had been scattered all throughout space. Some went back far in time, others went farther into the future. It took Xav's father a decade to regroup the entire family in the late 20th century. Xav's family, together with Straton's orphans, then procured the authority over the Margrave council, while his uncle Adrian and his family took over the mundane Institutes scattered all over the world. It had become almost impossible to re-assimilate themselves to the dhampirs society, however, they had managed to do so. Their actual origins had been concealed but to a few council members, and the families they have descended from. Due to the length of time they have spent being lost in space, everybody had forgotten about the curse the three brothers had received and was not prepared when they lost both Adrian and Michael five years after they had reunited. It was Xav who was affected the most when he lost his father due to a plane crash, a mundane cover-up to hide the real reason for his death. Due to critical investigations lead by Xav's twin brothers and participated by Xav, himself, they found out that the reason of his death was a cardiac arrest brought by foreign objects, poisonous fibers, attached to their father’s heart, and was calculated to have been done during his father’s arrest back in Margrave before their exile. Xav's rage exploded and he traveled back in time and murdered council members who were responsible for imprisoning his father, leaving a note for his mother’s uncle stating who had done it, why and that none of Erfologs will ever be returning to this age, with a promise that the times will turn. Upon his return to the 20th century, Xav found out that his mother had vanished without trace, only leaving a letter that she could no longer take the depression of not having her husband around. Later, he and his siblings would find out that Elisabeth had been kidnapped by a demon. Keeping a steely determination, he assumed his father’s place and officially inherited the spot as a lead guardian of the council next to the morois a month after his burial and became the head of the family afterwards.

Legends

Three brothers are Michael, Adrian and Straton Erfolog

Schönen is the twin country of Margrave

Council: 60% Morois and 40% Dhampirs.

#XAVIER

[monstermaster13]

Russell's Redemption. Russell Brand FTM TG/Monster theme.

NOTE:

This is a Russell Brand FTM TG story inspired by numerous Russell related dreams I had and it's part of the Mel storyarc and in this one it tells of him changing his ways, reforming and making up with her.

It had been two or three years since his last battle against Mel the koala-girl and her friends, and Russell Brand was now on the run, for he was being hunted down for what he almost did to them and he was running out of time. He knew that any moment he was going to be sliced apart and destroyed in various ways, unless of course there was a chance of him surviving and getting back on his feet.

For him it had never been easy, he had a mix of vampire and demon powers and attributes - he had been ridiculed and tormented for the longest time and now he felt terrible for what he did to the koala-girl and her companions, in particular what he tried to do to Nathan, he thought to himself if only he had simply apologized for his actions then he wouldn't be in this mess.

As he raced all over the city, narrowly avoiding the various creatures that were hunting him, he knew if there was one thing he could do in dire times like these it would be seek the help of a friend, which he did. He remembered that one of Nathan's friends was a supernatural spellcaster of some kind - that friend being of course Victoria.

Luckily Victoria was available, he explained to her that he needed to get to Mel's apartment before it's too late and she taught him a technique that enabled him to transfer his spirit and his aura into the body of the anyone he chose. He thought about who to transform them into - when he thought of the perfect person to transfer them into - he picked Rosa, knowing she'd be perfect for this.

Without hesitation, he concentrated all of his supernatural energy and forged it into a shadow-like form which took on a spectral visage and whisked off through the city over to the apartment where Rosa was. Rosa was meditating and practicing her own magic when his spirit flew into her body through her mouth, increasing the strength of her aura as it did so. Russell himself then faded into a spectral form before vanishing.

The spirit began to possess her and influence her, as she developed his powers along with the vampiric traits and attributes that he had. In addition to this, she began to levitate in mid air as a series of supernatural changes began to influence her as well, starting with her skin roughening and become a bit dirty looking as her arms broadened, her hands enlarged as her fingernails extend a bit to become claw-like. Small black hairs grew on her chest as it broadened along with her torso.

Her breasts slowly retracted into the former as her hips retracted and her back expanded, her legs lengthened and her feet enlarged, her outfit slowly morphing into a black leather outfit of sorts with boots to match - in addition to this her privates reshaped themselves into the more mannish variant. She elevated in height to 6'1 as her neckline shifted, she weighed about 172lbs and she was now quite lithe.

In addition to these changes her hair slowly turned from a tawny reddish brown color to jet black as it lengthened, becoming longer and messier, her forehead becoming a bit more pronounced as her eyebrows thickened, blackening to match. Her eyes widened and darkened while eyeliner applied itself around them, her nose altering a bit in shape as her lips lost a bit of their femininity, still remaining kissable though.

She felt her face as facial hair of sorts grew around her jaw-line, luckily though the facial hair wasn't full on werewolf length or anything as her features morphed themselves several times until she resembled well…Russell, her voice shifted to become masculine but also quite quirky, developing a British accent of the Essex variety to match her appearance. Her personality and mindset shifted as pieces of who she was faded away, being replaced with the memories, personality and thoughts that belonged to Russell.

A few seconds later the transformation was completed and the bloodthirsty vampiric demigod was back, there was no more Rosa - only Russell. This time though, he wasn't evil though, he had learned the errors of his ways and was ready to make it up to Mel and her friends. He wanted to be an ally rather than an enemy. As he watched his canines extending to become vampiric fangs, he sighed a sigh of relief before landing back down on the ground.

Russell examined himself in the mirror for a few seconds, admiring his new form as supernatural energy coursed through him, making him stronger than ever, the rest of his teeth were becoming akin to feral points as he gave a sly grin. He picked up the sound of the predatorial creatures that were after him and decided to take off, sprouting large raven-like wings and flying off to where Mel might be.

A few seconds later he found where Mel was, Mel was over by the park taking photos of new creature specimens. He flew over to the park and flew right over to her, he rushed up to her as he landed on the ground in a graceful manner.

"Mel, thank goodness I found you."

"Russell?"

"Yes..it's me…"

"It's been ages since we last met…what is going on?"

"There's something I must tell you and it is most vital that you listen. I realize that i've been a terrible monster and that I shouldn't have been stalking you in or out of your dreams, I know that you feel angry at me because of what i've done. And that's why I am here. I am here to…apologize."

"Wait…you're apologizing to me?"

"Yes…I realize that what I did was wrong. I am sorry for trying to get revenge on you and especially on Nathan. I am sorry for what I did and I know that I caused a lot of trauma for all of you. I'm sorry, Mel. Will you forgive me?"

"Russell, you may be monstrous but you're still human on the inside and I forgive you. Sure what you did was horrible but it's okay, you realize that what you did was wrong and that is all that matters. I forgive you 100%."

"Aaaw thanks, Mel."

"You're welcome…"

"I was wondering…if I could be your friend?"

"Oh, of course you can. Russell, i'm glad you've turned to the side of good."

And so with that Russell gave Mel a big hug, embracing her and cuddling her in a gentle manner so he wouldn't hurt her, now that he was a good guy he could use his powers to help our heroine and her friends instead of using said powers to torture them - for he had realized that everything he did prior to this wasn't how to do things. He had learned from his experience as a villain and decided to use this as a means to better himself and to help her with her missions.

Mel expressed to him how she felt about all the times she had been haunted by him and that she learned how to face her fear of him on her own, and now she had opened her heart up to him and the two of them were now best friends rather than enemies. He still had his powers but he used them for good now.

As for what happened to them later, the two of them had a lot of fun together and were now fighting alongside each-other rather than against eachother, Russell had learned a valuable lesson and had made a new friend.

[gibbingtonwibbington]

Hmm…Wait a minute.

??

Ooooooooh. Is this what you want…..?

NPCS:

If I made characters I would make it so none of them had a whole showing face except for warnymph and the cute character. That has so much makeup on is clownish or very fake looking. Warn¥mph is not the leader but a Queen and they worship her, as they should because she’s the most beautiful creature anyone will ever see she was created to be the perfect “human” but shes not made with one ounce of human dna. She has liquid metal insides she can never have weak bones, break her bones or get sick or die. (Kinda like wolverine) she can even have swirds as hands, fingers or arms, legs. IF she feels like it. The top two wings are angel but the bottom two wings have grown into Luna moth white wings w the little curl thing at the end and the white eye on the wing. She’s full grown now doesn’t get any older. That would be great. She’s so beautifully bald that she doesn’t even need hair because it would cover her huge beautiful grey green eyes.$$But if she does it’s silver snd gold mixed together and it curls the same way as the tip of the luna moth wing does because it looks like two high pigtail wings more than it does hair. She also has a hair and cold metal fetish. She sometimes wears armor and when her courtly women (her group) put it on her she bites onto a tree branch because she thinks sex is weak and doesn’t want anyone to know she likes it . because she needs the others she doesn’t necessarilywant them. Theres a cute and sexy girl w pigtails w pink and blonde curly streaked hair and a lolita style tutu dress. Two round spots on her cheeks for blush. She’s the only one WN has what she thinks is a crush ….but she doesn’t want to have a crush on her.One has an entirely red sexy flowy spaghetti strap dress outfit with huge cat smoky eye makeup, red red lips big and outlined like a doll that are on the lower face mask. Not actually on the face. White or very pale skin c b Dressed in some sexy red cordet lace red stuff black , white only trim (only other than the red.) her hair is half up with a third eye on her forehead that is a dragon eye.. her hair is jet black. The last one is a from head to toe suited shiny in black pleather. Probably shaves her head and dies the tips black underneath, shes not bald, she actually loves hair. It’s basically the same costume as venus fly but the face is fully covered at all times w the same black leather as her suit or that black mesh shit if she can’t breathe (lol) like a girl version of the people under the stairs outfit but SHINY black. Lol she can weild a sawn off shotgun type weapon with lazers. The red one is magic. Shes half demon a shapeshifter and uses her sex appeal to mind control anyone except for WN. She doesn’t need a weapon. The cute one has an enormous magic samurai sword that was a gift from WN. It flies and does whatever she wants it to. She’s physically weak and the closest thing to a human. That’s the reason why wn doesn’t want the crush. But she cherishes her human weakness and is almost jealous but she doesn’t get jealous so she loves it instead. The one in all black is WNs favorite bestie. She’s made out of dark matter. WN made her in a lab. The red one came from a distant planet and is the last of her species. She’s basically protective of them all w her mind powers. Warnymph has mind powers but rarehas to use the because she’s so smart and manipulative. She can create (transform) her blood into any weapon she creates in her mind. She can multiply her dna so she only needs a drop of her blood to make anything. Even if it’s a car to cruise around in lol. Warnymhs mind control powers can’t ever be beat. Shes training the red dragon girl’s mind and the others and if any of them fail they’re banished. She’s looked forever for these creatures and doesn’t want to lose them. Obviously the cute girl is the weakest because she is still part human the dark matter one is still kind of an anomaly and they’re doing tests on her she has dark matter as a body she doesn’t actually have a physical body. wears that suit just so she has a body outline as a mental game to opponents

[icarusthelunarguard]

This Week’s Horrible-Scopes

It’s time for this week’s Horrible-Scopes! So for those of you that know your Astrological Signs, cool! If not, just pick one, roll a D12, or just make it up as you go along. It really doesn’t matter.

Aries  

Umbrellas are all the rage these days. You can buy a large quality one easily enough, but if you want to make a statement go buy a Samurai Sword Umbrella! It slings over your shoulder with the handle of a katana, but the “blade” is just a standard umbrella. And if you want to REALLY screw with people, make your own… but make an ACTUAL blade in the center so you have a Samurai Sword Umbrella Samurai Sword! Because Umbrella-Swords are cool as hell!

Taurus 

Did you grow up in the 2000’s? Here’s a blast from the past for you - let’s see if you still remember your old childhood friends. Yellow Humbah, Purple Zumbah, Orange Zing Zing Zingbah, Blue Jumbah, and Pink Jingbah. You remember who all these “Atoms of Energy” are? That’s right - they’re the characters from “Boohbah”! The way you just winced at that is how we older folks wince at the Saturday Morning shows from Sid and Marty Krofft. It was all LSD and Acid. Change our minds!

Gemini  

It’s Renaissance festival season and you need to check your costume’s condition. Sure, you could go in that leather corset showing hectares of cleavage again, but consider adding a Starfleet issue communicator badge paired to your phone so you can talk to your friends. When the event staff ask who you’re talking to, deny everything, claim you’re haunted with demons, failing that claim it was Nostradamus’ doing. Just set your phaser to STUNNING!   

Cancer Moon-Child 

Newspapers might be passe, but you know what’s something that should come back? Recording computer programs off the radio! Yeah, that was totally a thing you could do, and it’s something that should totally come back! It was simple, really; you waited for the DJ to announce that it was time to hit RECORD on your tape deck and the sounds would be picked up for you to load into your tape drive later! Then again, at 37 BYTES per second a 5 Megabyte song file would take over half a day. 

Leo 

Getting older doesn’t mean you get kinder. You know the stereotype of old people playing Bingo at the Old Folks’ Homes? They are vicious! They will complain about every little thing including, but not limited to… they got the wrong card, they didn’t get Four Corners this week because Tillie is sitting in their favorite seat, and… and we cannot stress this enough… that you’re calling out the balls wrong. Yes, that includes that you’re tinkering with which ball falls out of the cage. Don’t get OLD!

Virgo 

Summer’s here and if you want to read trashy romance novels, just start reading Greek mythologies. Ever heard the term “Zephyr Winds”? “Zephyrus”, the Greek god of the west wind, and the harpy “Celaeno”, birthed Balius and Xanthus, Achilles' horses. And in an as-yet unsolved death, it was claimed he killed one of Apollo's many male lovers, Hyacinth, out of jealousy. Hyacinth was accidentally killed by a discus thrown by Apollo. According to some sources Zephyr was the true culprit, having blown the discus off course. Happy Reading!

Libra 

If you grew up in the 90’s you likely still remember… The Wiggles, from Australia! Remember them? Anthony - he’s 59 now. Murry? He’s breaking 62 now. Jeff’s 68, Greg is 50, and Phillip is 64. You’ll be happy to know that they’re all still alive and active in the musical industry, and would likely love to hear from you. They have lots of social media accounts, so have fun with that! 

Scorpio 

Remember when home printers went from Black and White teletype machines to colour? No, it wasn’t with bubble jets. You could get dot matrix printers with multi-coloured ribbons and print that way. It was slow, it was sloppy, but it was better than nothing. Today you can do photos in only a few minutes in a take-along battery-operated handheld device. Kinda like the old Poloriod cameras were able to do. And those still exist you know!   

Sagittarius 

Remember the expression, “Racing The Sun”? Good luck doing that unless you have a plane… specifically a Supersonic one! You’ll have to be speeding along at Mach One-Point-Three to keep the Sun in the sky for yourself. In civilian life only the French & British Concordes and the Russian Tupolev Tu-144 could do that. BUT, if you go back to 1996 and enter the Pepsi Points contest with 7 Million points, you might win the Harrier jet! It wouldn’t get you past Mach Point-Nine, but wouldn’t it be GREAT to own the Pepsi company’s marketing team?

Capricorn

Before you start saying “Cartoons are for Kids” or “Comic Books are for Kids” or “TV Sci Fi is for Kids”, might we remind you that GOOD stories, COMPELLING stories, come from a place of empathy, sympathy, and joined conflict. Remember X-Men? It was an alegory for homosexuality in the 60’s. My Little Pony Friendship is Magic tackled the topic of Self Harm! And “Sgt. Fury and his Howling Commandos”? Stan Lee was told that the title alone wouldn’t sell and he said, basically, “Screw you guys! I’m gunna do it!” So.. Spite I Guess? 

Aquarius 

Parking in cities is normally not a big deal, but if you want David Attenborough levels of Life Or Death, try getting an on-the-street parking spot in Chicago or Boston during the winter. The people will shovel out a spot then put a lawn chair in there to scare away any potential spot snipers. Do yourself a favour; never visit either city in the winter… or ever, really.

Pisces 

Out there on Mars is the aerial “rover” named Ingenuity! It’s a solar-powered helicopter that’s been able to run for almost an hour of flight time and over 7 kilometers of travel distance! So the next time someone asks if you know how to pilot a drone, don’t you DARE say, “Sure! It’s not like it’s rocket science or anything”, because it TOTALLY is, now! Stop annoying NASA like that!  

And THOSE are your Hobble-Scopes for this week! Remember if you liked what you got, we’re obviously not working hard enough at these. BUT! If you want a better or nastier one for your own sign or someone else’s, all you need to do to bribe me is just Let Me Know! These will be posted online at the end of each week via Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook and Discord.

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