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urfavoritewriter · 4 months

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More Than Neighbors

A commission for an anonymous user here on Tumblr, thank you for commissioning me!

Content: M/M Vore, Oral Vore, Endo, Digestion, Melting Digestion, Multiple Instances of Vore, burping

The sun cast a warm glow over the new neighborhood as Jake and Andrew arrived at their freshly leased apartment. The building, a quaint three-story structure, stood proudly with a coat of welcoming beige paint. As they stepped inside, the scent of fresh paint tickled their noses—a sign that this place was truly their canvas to fill.

The apartment had a cozy charm, with sunlight streaming through the large windows that adorned the living room. The kitchen, though compact, exuded a functional elegance, complete with gleaming appliances and granite countertops. A promising beginning to their life together.

With an exchange of glances and a shared smile, Jake and Andrew embarked on a rhythm of unpacking. The air was charged with the excitement of new beginnings. The sound of cardboard boxes being shuffled and furniture being arranged reverberated through the apartment.

Jake's lively voice, filled with enthusiasm, echoed, "Babe, I'm thinking the couch should go right here, what do you say?"

Andrew, a bit more measured in his responses, replied, "Yeah, that works. Gives a nice view of the TV and opens up the space."

Their shared brainstorming intertwined with the mundane yet significant task of setting up their home. Little did they know that this cozy abode would soon become the stage for a more unconventional kind of interaction with their neighbor. Or, at the very least, one that Jake attempted to hide really well.

"I'd love to stay and help, but I've got to go to work. Maybe wait on the heavier tasks till I'm back home, and set up what you can until then," Andrew suggested, a hint of regret in his voice as duty called him away.

Jake nodded, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "Sure thing, babe. I'll leave the heavy lifting for when my strong man is back in action." He winked playfully, earning a chuckle from Andrew.

As Andrew prepared to head out the door, Jake couldn't resist a mischievous comment, "Thinking of greeting our neighbors later. You know, being the friendly new guy in the building."

Andrew shot him a sidelong glance, his lips curling into a smirk. "Just don't get into any trouble. And no overly friendly offers, alright?" he quipped.

Jake feigned innocence, a twinkle in his eye. "Who, me? Never!" he teased, giving Andrew a quick peck on the cheek before sending him off to work with a playful swat on the butt. "Hey, I just want to make sure we're on good terms with everyone around here. Plus, who knows, maybe they're super cool."

With a peck on Jake's cheek, Andrew replied, "Alright, social butterfly. Do us proud. See you later, okay?"

"Sure thing. Have a good day at work!" Jake replied, continuing the mundane task of unboxing their many sentimental objects for the next hour.

Jake took a moment in the shiny new bathroom, adjusting his hair and shirt. He wanted to make a good first impression, not just for himself but also for Andrew. With a deep breath, he looked at himself in the mirror, nodding as if giving himself a mental pep talk.

Feeling ready, Jake strolled out of the apartment, locking the door behind him, and headed for the next door. It felt a bit odd, making the rounds so soon, but he figured it was better to know his neighbors sooner rather than later.

Arriving at the door, he took another moment, clearing his throat and then knocked twice. The anticipation was a mix of nerves and excitement, not knowing who would answer the door.

The door creaked open, revealing a man with a dad bod, dressed in a blue gym shirt that depicted a muscular guy lifting, paired with black shorts. The shirt hugged his form in a way that accentuated his physique rather than hiding it, and the casual attire only added to the relaxed charm he exuded. This was Thomas, the neighbor Jake was about to get to know.

"Hey there!" Thomas greeted, a friendly smile on his face. "You must be the new neighbor. I'm Thomas." He extended a hand, a firm handshake revealing the calluses of someone who might hit the gym often.

"Jake," he replied, returning the handshake. "Nice to meet you, Thomas."

Thomas chuckled a bit, the friendly tone still lingering. "Likewise, Jake. So, what brings you to this side of the building?"

Jake shifted slightly, feeling a bit shy under Thomas's friendly gaze. "Just moved in with my boyfriend, Andrew, next door. Thought I'd say hi to the neighbors."

"Ah, the happy couple! Welcome to the neighborhood," Thomas said, rubbing his chin playfully. "You know, you're lucky to have me as a neighbor. I'm like the unofficial welcoming committee around here."

Jake grinned, finding Thomas's confidence oddly endearing. "Well, lucky us then. Thanks for the warm welcome."

Thomas leaned against the door frame, his demeanor casual but with a hint of self-assuredness. "No problem at all. Say, why don't you come in? I was just about to make some tea. A little neighborly chat won't hurt."

Jake hesitated for a moment but couldn't resist the friendly offer. "Sure, why not? Tea sounds good."

The apartment had a pleasant aroma of warmth and familiarity as Thomas led Jake in. It was a cozy space with an inviting feel, making Jake feel a bit more at ease. Thomas moved effortlessly to the small kitchenette, pulling out two cups and preparing tea.

"Here you go, Jake," Thomas said, handing over one of the steaming cups. "I've got a knack for tea, so enjoy."

"Thanks," Jake replied, taking a sip, the warmth of the tea comforting in his hands. "You've got a nice place here."

Thomas grinned, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Yeah, it's my little bachelor pad. Not as neat as it could be, but it's home."

They exchanged pleasantries, Jake finding himself drawn to Thomas's charismatic demeanor. The conversation flowed easily, with Thomas expressing genuine interest in getting to know his new neighbor. At one point, Jake couldn't help but voice a thought that had been lingering in his mind.

"You know, Thomas, you're a pretty interesting guy," Jake said, a playful glint in his eyes. "And, well, quite attractive."

Thomas's response was a cocky smirk, as if he'd expected the compliment. "I get that a lot, and for good reason."

Jake blushed slightly, his admission out in the open. "I hope I'm not being too forward or anything. It's just, you seem like a cool guy."

Thomas chuckled, the cocky edge still present. "No worries, Jake. I can handle a compliment. And cool? I'll take it. We'll have to hang out more, get to know each other better. Maybe introduce me to that boyfriend of yours."

Jake nodded, feeling a warmth spreading through him. "Yeah, that sounds great. Andrew would love to meet you, I'm sure."

With that, the conversation continued, the two sharing stories and laughter, the bond between neighbors growing stronger. Little did Jake know that the more time he spent with Thomas, the deeper his fascination would become. Jake couldn't stop eye-ing his neighbor's dad bod, and especially his slightly protruding belly, which was cozy and inviting.

"What's up?" Thomas said, noticing Jake's attraction to his body and his extended silence.

"Say, Thomas," Jake spoke, his voice a little shaken and apprehensive. "I was wondering if you could… You know," He said, avoiding his neighbor's direct gaze. "Swallow me up?"

The revelation hung in the air, creating a moment of awkward tension between Jake and Thomas. Jake's request was so unexpected that even Thomas, with his confident demeanor, was momentarily taken aback.

"Swallow you up?" Thomas repeated, a bemused expression crossing his face.

Jake, realizing how unusual his request sounded, quickly began to backtrack. "Oh, uh, sorry. That was a weird thing to say. I just thought, you know, it's been a long day with all the moving, and I thought it might be a way to relax. Forget I said anything."

Thomas, recovering from his initial surprise, chuckled. "Hey, no need to apologize. That's definitely one way to unwind. But, you know, what about your boyfriend? Shouldn't he be the one you'd want to spend your evening with?"

Jake hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room as if searching for an excuse. "Andrew's at work. He won't be back for hours. I figured it might be a good time, you know?"

Thomas raised an eyebrow, the cocky smirk returning. "Well, well, looks like I've got some competition with your boyfriend's schedule. Alright, Jake, let's give it a try. Why not?"

Jake's eyes widened in surprise, the realization sinking in that Thomas was actually considering his bizarre request. He stammered, "Wait, really?"

Thomas chuckled again, approaching Jake with a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, really. I was beginning to think the tea in me could use some company." He teased.

As Thomas moved closer, Jake felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. Little did he know that this seemingly casual decision would set the stage for a series of events that would reshape the dynamics of their relationships in ways he couldn't have imagined.

Thomas's demeanor shifted, and a dominant aura enveloped him as he towered over Jake. With a wicked grin, he leaned in, his tongue emerging to sensually trace patterns across Jake's face, leaving a glossy trail of saliva in its wake.

Jake, caught in a mix of surprise and arousal, felt a shiver run down his spine. The dominant display was more than he had bargained for, but there was a certain allure to Thomas's confident and commanding presence.

As Thomas continued to lick, his teasing commentary echoed through the room. "You wanted to relax, right? Well, I'm here to make sure it's a memorable experience for you."

Jake, unable to resist the heat building within him, nodded in agreement. "Yes, I… I wanted something different."

Thomas, seemingly pleased with Jake's response, opened his mouth wide. The sight of those teeth, the expanse of his tongue, and the moist interior of his mouth created a mesmerizing spectacle. Jake, transfixed, felt a combination of excitement and anticipation.

With deliberate slowness, Thomas brought his open mouth closer to Jake's head, giving him a teasing pause. "Ready for the next part?" he asked, a wicked glint in his eyes.

Jake, feeling the heat of the moment, nodded again. "Yeah, go for it."

Thomas didn't waste any time. He extended his tongue and, with a deliberate and sensual motion, began swallowing Jake's head. The sensation was unlike anything Jake had experienced before—being enveloped by warmth, the pressure increasing gradually as he slid further into Thomas's mouth.

As Jake descended into the darkness, he couldn't help but marvel at the intimacy of the act. The feeling of Thomas's teeth grazing against his skin, the wetness of his tongue, and the gentle pressure surrounding him created a heady mix of pleasure and surrender, and he couldn't be more grateful that he had been forward with his request.

Thomas relished the sensation of Jake's head nestled within the confines of his mouth. The warm, tight space engulfed Jake, and Thomas couldn't resist savoring the unique flavors that each part of his captive offered.

With a deliberate and practiced motion, Thomas began the process of swallowing Jake further. His hands, which had initially rested casually on Jake's torso, now came into play. Fingers pressed gently into Jake's sides, aiding the swallowing process and ensuring a smooth descent.

The fabric of Thomas's shirt stretched as Jake's form traveled lower, gradually disappearing into the voracious depths of Thomas's mouth. The sensation of Jake's descent was hot, tight, and surprisingly intimate. Thomas's throat worked rhythmically, each gulp accompanied by a low, satisfied hum.

As Jake's upper body passed the point of no return, Thomas reveled in the feel of his buttocks. The firm, plump curves were a tantalizing delight, and Thomas couldn't resist using his hands to savor the moment. Fingers kneaded into the soft flesh, ensuring every inch of Jake was embraced by the consuming journey.

Thomas's thick hands squeezed Jake's buttocks inside his mouth, relishing the feeling of the soft flesh yielding to his grasp. The act was both sensual and commanding, a testament to the control Thomas exerted over the devouring process.

As Thomas continued the deliberate swallowing, the bulge in his throat expanded, signaling Jake's gradual descent into the depths of his belly. The once-taut fabric of Thomas's shirt now strained and stretched, barely containing the increasing mass within. The sight was both enticing and provocative, the visible contours of Jake's form pressing against the fabric.

GULP!

With each successive gulp, Jake's head popped beneath the surface of Thomas's belly, causing a noticeable bulge from the outside. The fabric of Thomas's shirt clung desperately to the expanding mass within, the tight material pulled upward by the gravitational pull of Jake's journey into the man's digestive abyss.

The struggle of the fabric against the growing bulge was accentuated by the relentless swallowing. Thomas's throat worked with practiced precision, each gulp drawing Jake further into the churning depths of his belly. The once-cocky bachelor now seemed entirely consumed by the act, his concentration evident in the rhythmic motions of his throat.

The tight shirt, now strained beyond its limits, surrendered to the pressure. With a final, audible rip, the fabric gave way, exposing Thomas's expanding midsection. The bulge, no longer restrained by clothing, continued its ascent, offering a visual spectacle of Jake's gradual submersion into Thomas's digestive embrace.

Thomas's belly was much more pronounced with Jake entirely swallowed up, showcasing his curled up form beneath the bachelor's muscles. He rubbed his belly, moaning, as he let out a huge burp.

BuuuUuUuUuUuUrPPP!!

Thomas grinned, running a hand over his now exposed belly, the remnants of his torn shirt hanging from his waistband. "Well, shit, there goes my favorite gym shirt. And I thought it was tear-resistant. You owe me a new one."

He looked down at Jake's bulge inside him, the corners of his mouth curling up mischievously. "But, you know, it's worth it, just to have you all cozy in there, buddy."

Thomas reclined on his couch, feeling the subtle weight of Jake nestled within him. The torn shirt hung around his waist as a makeshift reminder of their unusual encounter. He ran a hand over his rounded belly, savoring the comforting fullness.

As hours passed, Jake found a peculiar coziness within Thomas's belly. His words, though muffled by the fleshy confines, conveyed a sense of contentment. "So damn cozy in here," Jake's voice reverberated, the sounds dulled by the warm expanse of Thomas's belly.

The bachelor lounged, occasionally shifting in a way that cradled Jake further within him. Thomas chuckled, responding to the muffled remarks. "Yeah? Glad you're enjoying it, buddy. Just chill. We got time, and let me know when that boyfriend of yours is about to come."

Hours drifted lazily by as Thomas continued to chill on his couch, occasionally rubbing his belly as if patting a pet that lay within. Jake, within the comfortable confines of Thomas's belly, began to squirm subtly. His muffled sounds conveyed a sense of restlessness.

Jake's voice was muffled, the words barely decipherable but hinting at the desire to be released. Thomas, catching on, sat up with a casual grin. "Alright, time to set you free, little guy."

Thomas leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees, as the process of regurgitating Jake commenced. A low, guttural sound accompanied the motion, reminiscent of someone trying to force out an unexpected cough. As the first signs of Jake's reappearance became evident, a mixture of saliva and stomach acids accompanied him.

With a final, controlled heave, Jake emerged from Thomas's mouth. The dampened form of the once-swallowed man glistened, adorned with a sheen of Thomas's digestive fluids. Jake coughed and sputtered, the residue of the endosomatic adventure clinging to his form.

Thomas chuckled, leaning back as he wiped a stray droplet from the corner of his mouth. "There you go, Jake. Back to the land of the living, or at least out of my stomach."

Jake fumbled for a nearby napkin, wiping off the remnants of Thomas's digestive embrace from his face. He hesitated, glancing at Thomas with a mix of uncertainty and arousal.

"Fuck, that was hot as fuck," Jake admitted, his cheeks flushed. "Do you think, um… That maybe we could do this regularly?"

Thomas reclined on the couch, a cocky grin forming on his lips. "Regularly, huh? Well, who am I to say no? My gut's taken a liking to your round shape, and I figure I'd want to make use of this torn shirt again."

Jake, still catching his breath, grinned at Thomas. "Thanks, man. That was something else." With a casual wave, he headed back to his apartment, the door closing behind him.

In the privacy of his own place, Jake couldn't help but marvel at the wild experience. "Damn," he muttered, glancing at himself in the mirror. "Shower time before Andrew gets back."

Over the next few weeks, Jake found himself drawn to Thomas's door almost as if by an irresistible force. The frequency of his visits increased, and a peculiar routine developed—almost every time Andrew was out for work, Jake would find himself knocking on Thomas's door, eager for the sensation of being swallowed once more.

It became a clandestine affair, a secret passion that Jake couldn't resist indulging. The cozy afternoons spent nestled in Thomas's belly provided a unique escape, a refuge from the outside world. Thomas, despite his initial cockiness, seemed to enjoy the arrangement just as much.

Their encounters varied. Sometimes it was a quick, spontaneous venture, while on other occasions, Jake lingered longer, savoring the warmth and tightness of his endosoma retreat. As Thomas rubbed his belly in contentment, Jake relished the intimacy of the experience. The thrill of being swallowed, the muffled sounds of Thomas's surroundings, and the cozy darkness of his gut.

Each gulp, each audible swallow, became a part of their unspoken agreement. The torn gym shirt, now a remnant of many sessions, hung as a testament to their peculiar encounters. Thomas, ever the cocky host, reveled in the power dynamics of their arrangement. He would tease Jake with casual remarks, mocking him for how much he craved being inside him, how his gut's taking him from his boyfriend, and relishing the satisfaction of being the one in control. The muffled sounds of casual chatter, the gentle burps that followed, became routine.

One day, after weeks of their clandestine routine, Jake found himself stewing away in Thomas's gut. The familiar sensation of being enveloped in warmth and darkness was his routine escape from reality.

"Almost time for you to be out, bro," Thomas said, getting on his knees, preparing to regurgitate Jake, as they had done several times before. But, before the expected release, Jake squirmed in protest.

"Fuck, just take me," Jake said, his words muffled by the tight confinement of Thomas's gut, fully taken over by a surge of lust.

Thomas, taken aback, paused, looking at Jake with a mix of surprise and confusion. "You mean… like, for real? You want me to…?" he hesitated, gesturing toward his own belly.

Jake, caught in the moment of passion, nodded, confirming the unexpected twist in their usual routine. "Yeah, man. Digest me. Take me in. I want it," he muttered, his voice filled with a mix of desire and abandon.

The unexpected turn left Thomas momentarily stunned, but the allure of Jake's plea proved to be too intoxicating to resist. With a smirk and a shake of his head, Thomas took a deep breath and said, "Glad you said that, a few more weeks and I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from ending you whether you asked for it or not."

Thomas sat back, a casual air about him as he reclined, teasing Jake about the gravity of his words. "You know, bro, you just signed up for the no do-overs, no take-backs deal. You're in my gut now, and you're gonna stay there."

Jake, a mix of excitement and realization playing on his features, squirmed a bit, confirming his acceptance of the unspoken agreement. "Yeah, man, no turning back. I'm all in."

Thomas, with a mischievous grin, decided to take Jake's commitment to a new level. "Alright, bro, you signed up for the 'no more talking' package too." taking Jake's acceptance as a cue, tightened his gut, muffling Jake's words almost to the point of illegibility. With a smug smirk, Thomas leaned back, basking in the moment as he let out a colossal burp that reverberated through the air.

BuuUuUuUurP!

The sound echoed around the room, a declaration of the new reality they had both willingly entered. Thomas, still chuckling casually, patted his slightly bulging belly, sealing the unspoken contract between them. The muffled, indistinct sounds from within only served to emphasize the intimate connection they now shared.

Thomas glanced at the buzzing phone, a smirk playing on his lips. "Looks like someone's missing their boy, huh?" he teased, waving Jake's phone in the air. "Got a bunch of missed calls and texts. Your boyfriend's probably worried sick about where you are."

He chuckled, placing the phone on a nearby table. "Man, I wish I could see the look on his face when he finds out where you really are. In this big, bulging gut of mine." Thomas patted his belly with a satisfied grin. "But we'll let him stew in curiosity a bit longer. Gotta savor the anticipation, you know?" Thomas said, as he headed to his bedroom.

He sprawled across his bed, one arm behind his head, the other idly rubbing his rounded belly. The bulge from Jake's presence was noticeable, a testament to the intimate arrangement inside. He chuckled, a low, satisfied sound, as he felt Jake squirming within him.

"First night you're staying this long, bro," Thomas remarked, speaking into the empty room. "Better get used to it because, after tonight, you're not coming out. You're gonna be part of me for the last few nights of your life." He shifted slightly, getting comfortable, and let out a contented sigh. "Sweet dreams, man."

The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on Thomas as he woke up, his gut still pronounced from the previous night's indulgence. Stretching languidly, he sat up, feeling the weight of Jake nestled within him.

Yawning, Thomas got out of bed and ambled towards the bathroom. The tiled floor felt cool beneath his feet. Leaning over the sink, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. With a toothbrush in hand, he began scrubbing his teeth clean.

As he brushed his teeth, his gaze shifted to the protruding belly that pressed against the edge of the sink. Thomas grinned cockily, aware that Jake was experiencing his morning routine for the first time.

"Morning, Jake, you good in there?" Thomas teased, speaking as if Jake could hear him. "Can't quite make out what you'd be saying, but I thought the gesture was nice." He chuckled, imagining Jake's muffled protests from within the confines of his gut.

Finishing up in the bathroom, Thomas got ready for the day ahead, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

As Thomas went about his day, the vibrations of Jake's phone periodically echoed in the room, a persistent reminder of the outside world that seemed increasingly distant. Each buzz was a testament to Andrew's growing worry and curiosity.

Teasingly, Thomas leaned back and patted his belly, as if saying to Jake that he's here to stay. "You know, bro, I think your body's getting a little softer in there. I'm known to have a rough digestion."

From Jake's perspective, the world inside Thomas's gut was undergoing a slow transformation. His clothes, once distinguishable, were becoming indistinct as they melded with the acids. The sensation was peculiar and, at times, disorienting, as his skin slowly melted; It was pleasant, it felt cozier than any of the previous time he's been in here, but it was still disorienting.

The muffled sound of Andrew's persistent calls and messages on Jake's phone served as a distant background noise, a stark contrast to the cocoon of warmth and semi-darkness that enveloped Jake within Thomas's belly.

On the second day, Jake's form inside Thomas's gut underwent a notable transformation. The once distinct features of his body were now indiscernible, a result of the ongoing process of digestion. The clothes that clung to him had long since lost their original form, merging with the liquefying remnants of Jake's physique.

Thomas, perhaps subconsciously or out of growing curiosity, patted his belly, noting a subtle change. The solid tautness that characterized Jake's initial presence was giving way to a softer, more pliable feel. The acids worked persistently, melting away the boundaries of Jake's form. It wasn't an ethereal or surreal process; it was the gritty reality of digestion, the breaking down of flesh and bone into a churning mixture, but despite that it still felt good to Jake.

The sudden, impatient knocking on the door jolted Thomas from his casual reverie. He swung the door open, and there stood Andrew, a mix of worry and irritation etched across his face.

"Hey, sorry to bother you this early, but have you seen Jake?" Andrew asked, his concern evident in his tone. "He's been missing for two days, and I'm getting really worried."

Thomas, wearing a hoodie that conveniently hid the changes in his midsection, shook his head. "Nah, man, haven't seen him. Sorry." There was an apologetic note in his voice as he subtly adjusted the hoodie.

"Fuck," Andrew said, seeming distressed and unaware of Thomas's gut. "Sorry. Just… Let me know if you ever do, okay?" He said, as he continued to the other apartments to ask his other neighbors.

Thomas closed the door and laid back against it, he couldn't resist a teasing smirk. He lifted the hoodie, revealing the slightly softer, bulging gut beneath. "All it took is a lift of my hoodie to show him where ya went. Too bad he'll never figure it out." he remarked, the cocky edge still present in his voice, as Jake squirmed inside his acid-filled gut.

On the third day, Thomas decided to hit the gym, his usual routine slightly altered by the recent addition of Jake to his physique. The once-toned bachelor now sported more of a dad bod, and a slight beer belly had developed, a testament to Jake's presence in his gut.

As he prepared for the workout, Thomas couldn't resist teasing Jake. "Well, bro, today's gonna be a tough one on you. Might speed up your digestion a bit," he quipped with a chuckle. "But hey, I figure I'll make the most of the gains from eating you. Gotta look more attractive when you're gone, right?" The casual banter flowed easily, as he got to exercise his muscles.

Thomas began his gym session with some heavy deadlifts, the weight clanging against the floor with each controlled drop. The impact reverberated through his core, the vibrations felt by Jake nestled within the confines of his bulging belly. With each lift, Thomas's abdominal muscles flexed and tightened, pressing against Jake in rhythmic pulses.

Moving on to bench presses, Thomas lay back on the bench, the pressure of the weights causing his gut to push outward. Jake, caught in the middle of this bodily symphony, experienced the compression and release as Thomas completed each repetition. Sweat glistened on Thomas's forehead, a testament to the exertion he was putting into the workout.

Transitioning to squats, Thomas's movements became more dynamic. As he descended into the squat position, Jake was subjected to the pressure between Thomas's thighs, a sensation that intensified with each rise. The fabric of Thomas's shorts stretched tightly over his expanding waistline, a visible reminder of Jake's presence within.

The stair climber machine was next on Thomas's agenda. With each step, the rhythmic impact resonated through his body, creating a gentle rocking motion for Jake. The pressure on Thomas's midsection increased, and Jake felt the subtle shifts as his surroundings changed with each step.

Finally, Thomas engaged in some core exercises, targeting his abs directly. Crunches and leg raises emphasized the region where Jake was nestled. The compression intensified with each repetition, the steady burn of the workout echoed within Thomas's bulging gut.

Throughout the entire routine, Thomas's banter continued. "You feeling the burn, bro?" he teased, fully aware of the unique experience Jake was undergoing within the confines of his ever-changing gut.

As the days progressed, Jake's once-solid form continued its relentless transformation within the acidic confines of Thomas's stomach. The digestive juices worked with ruthless efficiency, breaking down Jake's flesh and bones into a formless mass. The initial resistance of his physical structure gave way to the corrosive power of the stomach acids, reducing him to a mixture of liquid and dissolved remnants.

The process was slow and methodical. Jake's consciousness began to wane, his awareness slipping away in sync with the dissolution of his physical being. He became entangled in the chemical dance of digestion, losing touch with the boundaries of his form as the acids invaded every nook and cranny of his thick form.

The sensation was a paradoxical blend of pleasure and obliteration. Jake, in his reduced state, was suspended in a state of half-consciousness, afloat in the warm, corrosive embrace of Thomas's stomach. The once-distinct features of his body blurred into a formless, melted amalgamation, his essence merging with the strong digestive acids of Thomas.

As the dissolution progressed, Jake's thoughts became fragmented, his sense of self dissolving along with his body. The blissful haze of digestion enveloped him, a surreal journey into the abyss of being broken down and absorbed.

Thomas reclined on his couch, a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips. His fingers drummed lazily on his bloated midsection, now transformed into a softer, beer-belly dad bod. The once-defined muscles were replaced by a plump layer, evidence of Jake's gradual assimilation into Thomas's physique.

"Look at this," Thomas mused, patting his slightly flattened stomach. "You're almost all mine, bro. I've been digesting you real good. Your essence is now part of what makes me, well, me. Bet you can't even comprehend that with how melted you are."

He let out a hearty belch, the sound reverberating through his sloshy midsection. Thomas's arrogance echoed in his words, a mix of crass amusement and self-satisfaction.

"You thought you could handle being in my gut regularly, but look at you now. Just a sloshy mess, melting away into nothingness. And here I am, getting beefier, looking better than ever," he continued, chuckling at the thought. "You're practically my personal enhancement, bro. A little seasoning to make me even more irresistible."

Thomas shifted, adjusting his posture to emphasize the changes in his physique. The casual arrogance in his voice painted a vivid picture of a man reveling in the results of his unconventional dietary choices.

"In a few more days, you'll be nothing but a memory, a part of my gains. Can't say it wasn't a good run for you, though. The best thing you did was willingly dive into my gut."

Thomas stepped out of his apartment and immediately encountered Andrew in the hallway, looking disheveled and anxious. Andrew's eyes widened at the noticeable change in Thomas's physique.

"Dude, have you seen Jake? I've been going out of my mind looking for him," Andrew pleaded, concern etched on his face. "You know what, don't fucking answer. I know you would've told me if you had already."

Thomas feigned innocence, scratching his head. "It's good, dude. Jake? Uhh, not sure, man. I mean, I've seen a lot of people around, you know? Can't keep track of everyone." He said, "Maybe he ghosted you or something. It happens. But hey," He gave Andrew a pat on the shoulder, "I'm here for ya if you need me, dude."

"Thanks, man." Andrew said insincerely, wanting nothing more than to know where his boyfriend went, but still appreciating the offer.

As they moved further away from each other, Thomas couldn't resist a sly grin, his hand casually rubbing his now beefier belly. "Damn, Jake. Not a word to your worried boyfriend? Never took you for the silent type." He teased as his stomach growled, knowing that Jake wasn't in a state to respond let alone comprehend, only existing for a few more days before he's fully digested down by the bigger man.

#male pred #male vore #digestion #male prey #m/m #gay vore #endosoma #melting digestion #reoccuring vore #burping #endo

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monstersandmaw · 6 months

Text

Male drider x trans male reader (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Commission number three! This one got away with me, for sure. Hope you folks enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!!

Content: trans male reader, some afab language to refer to the reader’s lower parts during non-penetrative, oral sex; chest area not mentioned. Kidnapping, some threat to life and mild injury (not from drider), brief mention of blood and stitches. Reader has submissive tendencies, enjoys being restrained, and the drider is gently dominant.

Wordcount: 10,123(!)

Running headlong into the dark pines that made up the forest which, according to your captors, had acquired such nicknames as the ‘The Bone Garden’, ‘Spectre’s Haunt’, and the ‘Blood Wood’ was probably not the wisest decision you’d ever made, but you’d been held by these thugs for four days of hard riding, and you were ready to risk it all to escape.

Had it really only been four days since you’d locked the door to your tidy little cottage on the edge of the village? With a gleaner’s bag slung over one shoulder and a basket in hand, you’d set out in search of the mushrooms that only grew at this time of year when the conditions were perfect — not hot and dry, not yet frosty, and just rainy enough. They loved the misty turn of the year almost as much as you did.

Without a care in the world, you’d stepped out along the weed-strewn gravel path that led through your herb garden, latched the wooden gate behind you, and meandered through the houses as the sounds of the village waking began to fill the air.

Gwyn had recently lit his forge and the rush of the bellows to stoke the heat reminded you of a dragon’s steady breathing; in and out, in and out. You’d snaked past the bakery just to swipe a fresh cinnamon roll before Garrick or Mercy or any of the woodcutters who also tended to rise early could finish them all off, and the orc behind the counter gave you the biggest one he had and a wink that made you just a little gooey inside yourself. “You’re a shameless flirt, Thom,” you said as you slid your coppers across the counter to him with two fingers.

“Hey, a man can dream, right, gorgeous?”

He was pretty fine himself, but he wasn’t really your type, and you’d made that clear when he’d asked you to dance at the first Spring Equinox dance you’d attended after moving to the village, then just a lowly herbalist’s apprentice. Ever since, you’d fallen into an easy banter of flirting that was destined to go nowhere, and it was harmless fun for both of you. You left the bakery with a smile on your face, and headed past Gwyn’s forge as you made your way north out of the village.

The smith, a colossal centaur with a dapple grey coat and a thick, white mane and tail that made anyone with long hair in the village green with envy, called after you and beckoned you over. “Headed north?” he asked with an uncharacteristic scowl.

“Yeah, why?”

“Take care, alright? Mercy said she’d seen sign of bandits in the area, and Willem said he’d heard talk of people being snatched when he took those fleeces to market last week. You shouldn’t be going out alone. None of us should really, not til things calm down.”

A little growl of frustration left you and you adjusted the gleaner’s bag on your shoulder. “I really need these supplies, Gwyn,” you said. “They’re ingredients I need to help fight off winter fevers, and if I don’t have enough, we could be in trouble come the cold in a few weeks’ time…”

“Can’t you take Garrick or Mercy with you? A good woodsman’s felling axe’ll do a hell of a lot more damage than that little sickle you’ve got on your belt…”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you breezed. “I’m not going to be on the main road anyway.”

“Please take care,” he rumbled, and you smiled up at the enormous blacksmith. He might have had the shoulders of a rock troll and iron-shod hooves big enough to knock down a castle door, with a big burn mark all up his left arm from an accident at the forge a decade ago, but he was the gentlest and most softly-spoken person you knew.

You cursed yourself three hours later when your basket of rare, purple mushrooms lay trampled to a slimy paste on the floor of the clearing and a nasty looking wood elf with a sneer and a cruel glint in her eye had her bow trained on you, while a second elf trussed you up like a solstice bird. Your head was ringing from the surprise blow they’d dealt you to the back of the skull, and you were lucky you didn’t have a worse concussion.

“You’ll make a nice little offering for the mage,” the female elf purred while her companion straightened and marched you on unsteady feet back towards the road. “Humans like you always fetch a decent price. Something about your blood being universal for most rituals, I think…”

There on the dirt road, four horses were waiting, three of which were a normal size while the last was built like a castle wall and large enough to carry the orc sitting astride it. The orc had one milky eye and the brand of a murderer across his right cheek. “Shit,” you hissed when you saw that, and the male elf laughed cruelly when you flinched as the orc swung down and prepared to heave you onto the back of the spare horse.

Normally, if you were going to be tied up and bent over something for some rough treatment, this was not how it went. There was absolutely nothing fun or consensual about the way these bandits chucked you over the back of the horse and lashed your hands and feet to the tack so you didn’t slide off. The orc guffawed and spat off to one side when you cried out on impact as your ribs creaked and your lungs expelled all the air they’d ever contained in one ugly grunt. After that, you did just about everything you could to move with the rhythm of the cantering horse, but it was probably the most miserable experience of your life. When the group slowed to trot, the motion was so painful that you actually slipped into unconsciousness for a while, only to be jounced back some time later.

At the crossroads about ten miles north of your village — the furthest north from your little patch of paradise you’d ever roamed — they met up with a couple of other riders who had apparently been on a recce of their own to look for more people for this blood mage or whoever, but they got laughed at by the orc on his enormous, cantankerous horse for not finding any victims and rode off again without joining the party.

So, it was just you, alone in the wilderness, being taken gods-knew-where, by two feral elf siblings and a murderous orc. Stowed like a sack of potatoes over that rangy, stinking horse for five hours of hellish riding, you were barely conscious. When they eventually stopped to make camp that night, they did let you relieve yourself in relative privacy, but once you were done, they hauled you back to their pack animals and lashed you to a tree next to them so that you couldn’t hope to escape. You could still smell the stink of them though, and it was enough to turn your empty stomach.

Their food was revolting, and their company equally repulsive. They joked loudly about all the cruel things they’d done to people in the past, and you sat there wondering why you hadn’t let Gwyn talk you into going out with the woodcutters. There were mushrooms where they were currently coppicing hazel for the winter, but no. No, you’d decided to be adventurous and clever, and to collect only the best mushrooms for your salves and tonics.

Four days later, you were almost ready to give up.

The mage’s castle they were taking you to was legendary in the northern reaches, and no one who was taken there against their will ever returned. Tales of blood magic and horrific rites involving chimera and creatures brought back from the dead had entered the local lore, and now apparently you were going to be drained of your precious blood for whatever this necromancer had planned next. And the price of that precious blood had been discussed and debated by the bandits for the last day.

Personally, you agreed with the female elf and thought you were worth more than a couple of weeks’ wages in gold, but you had no intention of allowing yourself to be squeezed dry like an orange for your blood. So, after the group stopped in a dark and snow-mottled pine forest after the fifth day of hard riding, you enacted your plan. You’d been plotting it all day, and hoped you weren’t too delirious and weak to pull it off.

When they’d let you relieve yourself the previous night, they’d not bothered to tie your hands together or watch you, since there was nowhere for you to go. You knew woodlands though, and you were pretty confident that if you gave them the slip in the dark, you could take care of yourself in the wild for a few days. Long enough to get back home anyway.

So when they started their daily round of bragging and trading boasts about how many vampires they’d killed or how they’d survived the venom of three different nagas in the same attack, you made your move.

If that darned twig hadn’t snapped, you might have got away with it, but when the male elf barked, “Oi!” into the gathering dark and swung his lantern around, you knew you’d messed up.

Breaking cover completely and legging it into the endless ranks of black-barked pine trees in the fading light of day seemed like the only option now, so you began crashing through the debris and dead branches that had gathered beneath the choking canopy of dense pine needles overhead.

These woods were different from any you’d known before, and something dark and foreboding lingered there like a shade above a gravestone. These woods were not kind. The air was not fresh and sweet like it was between the beech and oak back home. It pooled and festered, stagnant between the rough sentinel trees, and the lower branches seemed to reach their sharp, bare fingers towards your face as you ran like a rabbit from the pack of hunting dogs behind you.

Your toe caught a root and you stumbled, and in the space where your head had just been, an arrow whizzed through the air and sank into the tree ahead of you with a thunk that almost made your heart stop. Your lungs were burning already and your legs felt shaky and weak after your rough treatment and half-rotten rations, but a brush with death that close shocked you to the core. The water they’d given you had been rancid, and your stomach churned as adrenaline curdled in your gut, but somehow you forced yourself on into the darkness.

Their voices dwindled, muffled by the carpet of fallen pine needles, until a shout went up and another arrow flew past you. This time, it left a searing pain in its wake and you clutched at your ribs where the hunting broadhead had torn through your skin. Luckily, it was superficial, but it hurt like hell and it was bleeding. Blood might draw predators out of the darkness, if your blundering and their bellowing hadn’t already.

Shit, you hadn’t thought about the horrors that probably dwelled in a place like this.

The bandits had been crowing about the ghouls and rabid cannibals that supposedly haunted these woods, and you’d passed plenty of skeletons along the roadside on your journey, your down-turned head providing you with a first-class view of them as your half-lame horse had jolted past them at its permanent, slightly-panicked jog. They hadn’t all been pack animals and horses lying in the ditch either. Some of the skulls had been humanoid, and there had been the horns of a minotaur at some point. This was a place where living things entered unwillingly, and most of them never left.

Forcing yourself onwards, you clutched your stinging side, but they were closing on you. The orc was thundering through the forest like a boar on a rampage, and the elves were quick as shadows.

“You little shit!” the female shouted from right behind you. Something heavy hit you across the back of your knees and you tripped and fell hard onto your palms as a flung tree branch rebounded off onto the forest floor. The force of the fall sent your cheek smashing into the muddy ground and you cried out as she landed triumphantly atop you and turned you over, smacking you full in the mouth out of sheer frustration.

“Gotcha,” she grinned. “You’re gonna pay for running, little rabbit,” she added with a laugh as she hauled you to your feet.

You kicked her knee from the side as hard as you could and she yowled like a cat dropped into a bath, letting go of you to stagger sideways, limping. The thing about being a healer is that you also know the weak spots where it can hurt most.

Before she could turn on you again though, something moved in the trees behind you and you all froze. The orc crashed to a halt nearby breathing hard, and the elf’s brother came over to help her stand while she spat curses at you that would have made a pirate’s ears bleed.

“What is it?” the orc growled, low and tense.

“Fuck knows. Tie him up again and let’s get the fuck back to camp,” the female elf wheezed. “I’m gonna drag him behind my horse for the rest of the way there. Shit that hurts!”

“Quiet,” her brother hissed. “Something’s out there.”

“Then let’s get fucking moving!” she countered.

You turned to glance over your shoulder and caught the shape of something white drifting in the distant trees just as the orc spotted it too. His grip tightened on the haft of his huge war-axe, and he took half a step back. Until then, he’d been the one who’d seemed steadiest; unshakable and immovable as a cannon, and he hit just as hard. Now though, he looked spooked and scared.

“They say the Death-Spinner hunts in these parts,” he said, eyes wide as he looked from side to side. “A massive white drider that strikes from the shadows and wraps you up in his web and sucks you dry…”

“It’s been too long since someone sucked you dry,” the female elf sneered at him, though the remark came out feebly and she looked around her in a twitchy, nervous motion. “Your blue balls are making you hallucinate. Come on. What are you waiting for?”

“He’s got other names too, you know,” her brother interrupted, reaching for you with a jerky movement that halted when the steady rhythm of something moving nearby rose above the whispering of the wind in the canopy. “Soul-Eater, The Weaver Ghost…”

“Please, the Death-Spinner is just a myth…” the female on your right hissed.

“Decidedly… not,” came a thin, harsh voice from the trees ahead, and your captors just bolted.

The supposedly tough bandits – the ones who had been talking about selling an actual person to a bloodmage to use in some disgusting ritual; who had joked just the previous night about flaying a minotaur like a cow on a butcher’s block; who had told you that there was nothing out here that would give a single, flying fuck about you – had fled with no more than a shriek and the clatter of boots in the dead underbrush, and left you alone with the being they called ‘Death-Spinner’.

“Better and better,” you spat, still tasting blood in your mouth from where the elf had cracked you across the mouth. “First it was ‘sold to a blood mage’ and now it’s ‘death by drider’.”

A pearlescent pale leg speared down out of the gloom that gathered between the black pines, its ivory chitin shining softly. Shaped like a thin, curved shard of polished bone, the limb moved with slow, silent grace, and it was joined by a second, needle-slender limb, then a third and a forth, until the white underbelly of the creature loomed large into your limited pool of light, followed finally by the lower part of a humanoid torso, and the large, armour-plated abdomen of the creature.

The whole of the eight-legged being was utterly colourless.

White and pendulous as the moon, the drider’s chitinous body looked like drifts of wind-blown snow that had then set into solid ice, swirling and churning across its body to rise in small peaks and troughs at the joints and high points of its legs and over the swollen curve of its abdomen.

The humanoid torso melted upwards at the hips from the body of the spider, and two, smaller, pincer-like limbs — pedipalps — were angled slightly inwards, both ending in single, wicked talons and looking like they were ready to spear you through the middle in the blink of an eye.

The drider wore no clothes, and patches of white chitin formed a kind of armour up its humanoid torso: over the hips but skirting around its lean belly, then up over its shoulders like pauldrons and creating natural bracers and gauntlets along its long, wiry arms. Its hands, you saw as it dipped a little lower into the faint glow from the elves’ abandoned lantern, were clawed, but its slightly curved talons weren’t like those of a mammal. They were simply an unbroken extension of the chitin that covered its hands and forearms.

Its face remained mostly out of sight, wreathed in the upper shadows of the trees, but you got the impression of two reddish eyes glinting at you in the dark, and long, silk-white hair flowing down its back.

“You’re bleeding,” came the slightly hoarse tenor that made your skin prickle. A creature that large should have a deeper voice, but the mellifluous timbre of the drider’s tone made you think of sirens luring sailors to their death with sweet songs and empty, deceitful promises.

“Only a bit,” you choked out, stepping back and catching your heel on the branch that the female elf had used to trip you. When you fell hard onto your backside, you caught the glint of steel in the sea of rust-red pine needles all around you, and realised that one of the elves had dropped their precious sword in their haste to escape this creature.

In a rush of blind panic, you snatched up the unfamiliar weapon and held it aloft. “Stay back!” you barked.

The laugh that rippled out of the drider chilled your blood.

“Please,” it crooned, and then it loomed down out of the shadow and into the light, squinting its two scarlet eyes against the sudden brightness. “As if a little stick like that could hurt something like me.”

The sword fell from your fingers as weakness washed through you, and you bit back a sob. “Please,” you said instead. “Please, they brought me here to sell me to a necromancer, but I… I don’t want to die like this either.”

“Die?” the drider said, and its red gaze flickered to the wound in your side. “You won’t die from that. A few silk stitches and a rest, and you’ll be good as new…” It frowned again, its white eyebrows pulling in like a loose thread in a perfect tapestry. “You’re filthy,” it said, and you noticed a diagonal scar cutting across its pale mouth as its lip pulled up on one side in a gesture of revulsion.

“Yeah, well, you try being thrown over the back end of a bandit’s horse for five days and see if you’re still that pretty at the end of it,” you retorted, exhaustion making you bold and just a little bit stupid.

The drider laughed, the sound like autumn leaves rolling down the road, and you paused. It sounded genuinely amused.

“Come, human,” it said, holding out a clawed hand. “Let’s get you somewhere where you can rest in safety.”

“Safety? What… What about… all that ‘Death-Spinner’ stuff?”

The drider paused, its huge body hanging in the twilight like a pearl. “I have no interest in consuming sapient creatures, but the rumours help to keep people out of my forest. It’s as much for their safety as mine,” it went on. “There are nastier things even than me in these parts.” The self-deprecating venom in its tone drew you up short.

“You don’t seem so bad…”

“Thank you,” it replied with flat sarcasm.

You took three more steps towards the drider before your legs gave out. In a flash faster than thought, the drider darted at you, and before you could even flinch, strong, armoured arms had caught you and lifted you up.

“You poor thing,” it crooned, and you looked up properly into its face for the first time. “You’ve really been through it, haven’t you? Easy now. I’ll take care of you.”

“Why?” you breathed, trying not to let your treacherous muscles relax into the solid frame that held you. You felt the chitin of its chest against your shoulder as it bore you along in a strangely smooth, gliding motion, the dark trunks of the trees whipping past in a blur.

“Evidently I have a soft spot for brave and lost creatures,” the drider smiled. “My name is Feluän, by the way.”

You exhaled your own name in return, and then said, “Isn’t Feluän an elven name? Some prince or something…?”

“You know your history,” the drider chuckled. “Yes, he was a prince of the snow elves a long time ago. I came across it in a history book I picked out of a caravan that was destroyed by a band of gnolls once. Their tastes run more towards beer than books…”

“I chose my own name too,” you said, the consonants feeling thick and slurred as the tiredness seeped throughout your whole body and the pain in your side mounted. “You’re a male drider then? If you named yourself after a prince, I mean. I don’t know anything about your kind really. Never… Never met one before.”

“Hush for now,” he said, squeezing you a little more tightly into his arms and drawing a moan unbidden from your lips. Gods, even in these circumstances, it felt so good to be held like this. “But yes, I am.”

The journey through the dark forest passed in a hazy blur, until you had the vague impression of torchlight and soft firelight and you were laid down on the softest surface you thought you'd maybe ever touched in your life. A long, deep groan left you and you suddenly didn’t care what happened to you.

“I’m going to stitch you up,” came the drider’s voice from somewhere nearby. “It might hurt. I can use a little of my venom to numb the area if you like…”

You nodded, not wanting any more pain, and out of the corner of your eye, you watched the drider’s white body move in the blurry shadows of the cave. He loomed over you and pressed the tip of one clawed finger to his upper canine, before bringing it to your side where he’d hitched up your shirt just enough to access the glancing wound from the arrow. A blissful numbness crept like winter ice across your skin, and you let the drider tend to you.

Tiredness claimed you not long after, but you had the distinct impression of a warm cloth being wiped gently across your face and hands before blackness washed in and you slept.

Over the course of the next few days, Feluän tended to your wound, and you forgot to be afraid of the strange creature. Centaurs had always held a fascination for you, with their animal lower halves and their humanoid upper bodies, and the way the drider moved was no less fascinating. When he wasn't tending to you, he was weaving linen and silk into the most wondrous bolts of fabric. His cave was dotted here and there with trinkets that he’d clearly pilfered from the sporadic ‘visitors’ to his part of the world, but aside from that, the cave was just that: a grotto carved out of a rise in the ground in the middle of a dank, desolate forest.

“You live alone?” you asked on the first evening you felt strong enough to get out of bed without his help. Until then, he’d forced you to stay still, and honestly, you’d been only too happy to let him boss you about and carry you around. He was sweet, but he didn't take no for an answer, and he didn’t let you wheedle your way out of anything either. Your best ‘puppy-dog’ eyes had crumbled his iron resolve a bit though, and finally he’d let you get out of his soft, cosy bed to join him by the gentle light of flames in the fire pit at the centre of his cave.

Feluän nodded. “Yes. I have spent my whole life alone. Driders are not sociable with each other by nature, and most people fear us too much to want us anywhere near them, as you saw yourself when your captors realised I was there.”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” you said as you took the carved wooden cup he offered you. It had some kind of sharp, pine-needle tea in it and he looked embarrassed that that was all he could offer you to drink apart from water. In the few days you’d been there, you’d had some kind of game broth which, while nutritious, hadn’t been particularly flavoursome. “I didn’t think I’d find anyone out here more intimidating than that orc, but you managed it.”

Across the fire, his ruby red eyes glittered and he laughed, tilting his head in your direction. He didn’t always meet your eye, you realised, and you wondered if his albinism affected his eyesight. “I live to serve,” he purred.

“The way you behave, I’d say you live to be served, but what do I know?”

Again, he laughed. “You offering, little human?” he said, cocking a white eyebrow in a way that made you feel a little dizzy.

“I might, if the rewards for service were worth it,” you replied archly, sipping the sharp tea. Its flavour reminded you of the tinctures you brewed at home, and of the people who would need you as the autumn drew to a close and winter began to coil around the edges of the village. Your shoulders dropped, and you sighed, steam from the cup swirling in front of your eyes for a moment.

“You clearly don’t think I could offer you much,” he said dryly.

“It’s not that,” you said. “It’s… I have a responsibility to the people in my village. I’m a herbalist, and the whole reason I was captured was because I was out looking for ingredients that would help fight winter fevers. If I don’t get home before the snows settle in, they’ll suffer.”

He shifted his weight where he was resting casually with all his long, spiny limbs tucked close to his pendulous body, and you realised he was feeling uncertain. “It must be nice,” he began in a new, faltering voice that you’d not heard from him before. “Nice to have people… who need you. Who… Who look to you for protection…”

You laughed softly and shook your head. “I wouldn’t say I provide any kind of protection — you want an orc or a centaur like Thom or Gwyn for that — but I help people where I can, and they’ve been good to me. I was apprenticed with their previous healer, and when he passed, I took on his mantle.”

“Tell me about them?” Feluän asked, red eyes blinking slowly in his frost-pale face. His long, white hair fell down loose to frame his high cheekbones, and the scar on his mouth was the only element in his face that interrupted the otherwise perfect symmetry of him, and it made you want to press your lips to it and see what it felt like beneath your kisses.

You looked away.

“Tell me about them before I take you back tomorrow?”

“Wait, take me back? You’re coming too?”

“You’ll never make it out of these woods alive without me,” he said with a shrug. “I didn’t go to all this effort to keep you alive just to turn you loose for the ghouls and shadow wraiths to tear you to pieces when the sun sets tomorrow night.”

“Shadow… wraiths?” you croaked, eyes flitting to the cave entrance where the dark night pressed in against the tiny light of the fire. You shuddered and Feluän smiled to reveal his double set of canines, the larger, outer pair of which were actually hollow fangs that could inject his paralytic venom into his prey.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he said with a rumbling, seductive purr in his tenor that went right through you to your core. “I’ll protect you. You’re safe here anyway. It’s warded.”

“Right.”

“Your people?” he prompted, and you started with Gwyn the dappled centaur. By the time you’d listed almost everyone in the village, your mind was slow and your eyes gritty with sleep.

Some time earlier, Feluän had moved behind you so that you were resting your weight between his lethally-taloned pedipalps, buttressed up on either side by something that could skewer through you in the blink of an eye, and his hand had recently moved to card idly through your hair.

The world tilted slightly as you dozed off halfway through a sentence about Thom the orc who ran the bakery and made the most incredible fruit pies in autumn, and you realised that Feluän had picked you up again and was carrying you towards his wide, soft bed of silk webbing.

As he drew a feather-filled silk duvet up around your ears and you hummed with deep satisfaction, you heard him murmur, “I wish I could live somewhere like the place you described for me tonight. I wish I could know ‘home’ as you do, but I fear I would never be welcome somewhere like that.”

“They’d love you,” you mumbled. After all, you were half in love with him already and it had only been a few days.

The journey south took about a week. On the first day, you were forced to ride on his back after only a few miles due to the lingering ache in your side. “If you don’t get aboard, I will refuse to take you anywhere at all,” he said sternly, and a thrill of heat shot down your spine at the steel in his tone. “Do as you’re told, human.”

“Fine,” you croaked, ignoring just how much you liked the way he seemed to mingle concern, respect, and command in a single sentence. “Bossy.”

You did enjoy having your arms around his middle as you rode behind him though. And he was quick when he got scuttling along.

Your pride did have you walking the next day, and before too long, you got to see the ‘Death-Spinner’ in action. In the rocky lower slopes of the pine forest, before it melted into a dewy, autumn meadow, a roar shattered the silence and a bear reared up from the thick grass, as surprised by your exit from the trees as you were by her.

Feluän hissed like a snake and immediately drew himself up, lashing out with his long front legs. Like twin swords, the lowest section of his legs flashed in the misty air and the bear threw herself up onto her hind legs with another bellowing roar.

The drider jabbed at her faster than your eyes could follow, nicking her ear and her shoulder in turn with left and right forelegs, his huge body filling the space between you and the threat like a bulwark. The bear turned on the spot and thundered away, and he dropped silently back to all eight legs and looked down at you. In the starker light of the meadow, he was squinting and his red eyes didn’t quite land on your face.

“Are you alright?” he asked, bare marble chest heaving. His clawed hands were curled at his sides and his arms looked incredible, and suddenly it was very hard to focus on anything but how gods-damned beautiful this creature was. He barked your name and lowered himself down, still squinting. “I can’t see very well in full daylight like this. I need you to tell me if you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” you croaked at last, trying to swallow your inconveniently-timed arousal. “Are you? I’ve lived in the woods a long time, but I’ve never been that close to a bear before.”

“She really didn’t want to tangle with me,” he laughed, and you caught the way his articulated joints sagged in relief as his white hands found your shoulders and he squeezed you tightly for a second.

“You can’t see very well? What do you mean?”

He smiled sadly and let go of you. “As I understand it, people born like me, without pigmentation, often struggle with their vision, and bright sunlight in particular. I do anyway. Why do you think I chose the darkest place I knew of for my home?”

“I… I hadn’t really thought about it. You sure you want to be out here then? You didn’t have to walk me all the way home you know?”

“I want to,” he said, gesturing for you to continue on your way across the open meadow.

The overnight frost had melted a little, but it still lingered at the foot of the thicker tufts of grass and it crunched softly as you walked through it. Not Feluän though — he moved as silently as his spectral nickname suggested, but you did catch him tilting his head a little and inhaling, as though scenting the wind. His lips parted softly and you caught your best glimpse yet of his double set of canines. His tongue shifted a little behind his teeth, as though he was tasting something on the air, and you looked away. Everything about him was sensuous and it made you want to touch.

You were perhaps a day’s walk from the village now, but he still hadn’t turned back even though you’d told him you could manage alone from there.

That night at camp, you sat together as you had back in his cave, with you resting between the two smaller limbs that jutted out from his spider’s shoulder area. They twitched from time to time as he ate the now-roasted rabbit he’d skewered earlier for dinner with the talon at the end of one of them, and when you’d finished your meal, you reached out without thinking and ran your fingers down the chitin that covered them.

He jumped slightly and then went very still, but as you brought your hand closer to where the limb met his chest, he drew in a shuddering breath that made his whole body rock.

“Does that tickle?” you asked, wondering how much sensation he had with all that natural armour.

“Not exactly,” Feluän rasped. “It’s… It’s been a while since I’ve… since anyone’s — ah…” he gasped and his chest heaved. The little bone he’d been idly cleaning with his tongue dropped from his fingers to land in the carpet of beech and oak leaves around your feet.

“You want me to stop?”

“No,” he replied immediately. “Gods, don’t you dare stop.”

“Alright.”

You stood and faced him, and ran both hands up his ‘hips’ at the base of his humanoid torso. He shuddered again and sucked in another sharp breath. Gradually, you moved your touch up over the marble contours of his abs and ribs until you could reach no higher. “Come down here then,” you said quietly.

His scarred upper lip twitched and he surged down towards you, snatching you up in his hands and lifting you away from the fire. He pinned you against the smooth bark of a nearby beech trunk, and held you there four or five feet off the ground. His hands were secure around your waist as the spears of the two pedipalps lanced into the tree on either side of your face and you gasped, feeling heat rushing to your groin.

“The things you make me want to do to you, human,” he purred around a snarl, red eyes glowing in the night. His huge body was pale, standing out starkly against the darkness, and you felt a familiar, tingling weakness washing through you as he held you pinned there and growled those lustful words into your ears. You wanted him to take control. You wanted to submit to whatever pleasures he had in mind. It made your head go vague.

“What’s that then?” you slurred softly, dangling blissfully in his hold. “What do you want to do to me?”

“I want to tie you up with my silk,” he said, leaning in so he could kiss up your neck. He nipped at you, but not enough to break the skin or inject you with his numbing, paralytic venom. The trail his kisses left was cold though, and your flesh tingled. “I want you trussed and immobile for me while I give you every pleasure I can think of. Your body is so soft compared to mine. So vulnerable. I want it all. I want all of you.”

“You can,” you smiled. “Please.”

His lips twitched into another little snarl and he kissed you again. Your tongue tingled and you swallowed, realising a drop of his venom had landed there. “I can’t,” he said, stepping back and lowering you slowly to the ground. Your knees were too weak to take your weight at first and he steadied you.

“Why not?” Disappointment stung through the creeping haze in your head and helped to clear it a bit.

You glanced along his curved, spider’s abdomen and saw that a clear fluid was dripping slowly from a point on his underbelly. His obvious arousal looked obscene, and your core tightened at the sight of it. When he saw where you were looking, he shivered. “That’s what you do to me,” he croaked. “But I’ve lost too much control of myself tonight. I might hurt you.”

“Kiss me again?”

“No. My mouth is full of venom.”

Your breath caught and you bit your lip. “Please?”

“No.” He sounded angry now, and you looked away, ashamed of still wanting something he didn't want to give. When he saw the expression on your face though, his whole demeanour changed and he softened. “What is it?” he asked.

You shook your head, stepping back. “Forget it. You’re going home again tomorrow anyway. You’ll forget about me in no time.” But you wouldn’t forget about him.

Feluän’s lighting-fast reflexes left you breathless all over again as he snatched for your wrist when you turned away from him. “I will never forget you,” he hissed fiercely. “I can’t. You think I give every lost wanderer I find in my forest a personal escort home? If I had my way, I’d never leave your side again.��

The grip he had on your wrist was tight enough that it was just shy of painful, and you gasped, eyelids fluttering. You glanced down at where his claws were pricking into your skin and then slowly raised your gaze to his face. “Not helping…” you smirked softly.

He closed his eyes slowly and eased his grip just a fraction, and then he opened his eyes again, moved both hands to your face, cupped your jaw, and kissed your forehead. “Best I can do for the moment,” he said apologetically.

“You don’t have to go back, you know?” you said, giving voice to the idea that had been floating around your mind for a few days. “I mean, I know all your stuff is back there, but there’s a really cosy place that’s only a hundred yards or so from my cottage on the edge of the village. I think it would be perfect for you. You could… You could live there? If you wanted…”

Feluän raked his claws gently across your scalp and you shuddered. “And what of the rest of the village? What would they say about a monster taking up residence in their midst?”

“You’re not a monster,” you hissed, grabbing for his wrists and clinging to him while you glared up into his face. Gods, he was so beautiful, with his sharp features and red, gemstone eyes and his silver-white hair. “You’re not. How could they not love you once they got to know you?”

His throat worked and he lowered his spider body down, drawing his legs in so that he was as close to your eye level as he could get. “Do you really want me to stay?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please. I — The thought of you going back to that horrible place with all those bones scattered everywhere, and no life — there’s no life in those woods, Feluän. It’s —” He silenced you with a kiss.

Your lips turned numb almost immediately but you felt his tongue brush yours as he growled and reared over you, overpowering you with just his presence. “The way you said my name,” he said. “No one’s ever spoken my name before. Say it again. I want to hear you say it again.”

“Feluän.”

“When we’re not camping in a forest, I’m going to take you apart, my beautiful human. I’m going to tie you up and take you to pieces when my mouth isn’t dripping with venom.”

“Could be fun for you to have your way with me while I can’t move…” you said.

“You wouldn’t be able to feel it either,” he said, deliberately moving away from you and breathing hard. “Gods, I’m a mess,” he chuckled. You glanced down and saw that he was leaking a little webbing too from the gland at the tip of his abdomen.

“So am I,” you said wryly, because you absolutely were.

“I know. I can smell it,” he said. “Taste it too.”

“Fuck,” you groaned. He’d smelled it earlier as well then, back in the meadow after he’d protected you. “You’d better live up to your promise, Feluän. I’m not letting you go home without feeling some of that silk around my wrists first.”

“Say my name again and I’ll give you anything you want.”

Getting to sleep that night proved difficult to say the least, but it helped that you both talked quietly, with you lying in his arms again, and when you woke to the gentle caress of his knuckles against your cheek, you blinked your eyes open and smiled up at him.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, awestruck by the creature looming over you. Honest delight lit up his whole face and he laughed quietly, helping you to your feet and brushing the dry leaves from your clothes and the borrowed cloak he’d lent you.

“How do you want to do this?” he asked as you kicked the cold ashes of the fire apart and made sure you left the forest as you’d found it. “You said we’re within a day’s walk of your home now?”

You nodded. “We’ll probably meet a few of the woodcutters on our way in — they’re working about three or four miles from the village at the moment, cutting hazel for fences and ash for firewood. If we meet anyone, let me do the talking?”

Feluän agreed, and you set off along the main road together.

“I’ll introduce you in the village if you like, and explain where I’ve been, and then I’ll say I’d like you to stay. If… If you want to.”

“I do,” he said. “I don’t have anything in that cave that I would particularly miss, but I could still go back and fetch it if I wanted to.”

The first people you met were indeed Garrick and Mercy, and when the satyr and the half-orc-half-elf saw the drider, they hefted their axes in their hands and stepped warily into the clearing they’d made beside the road. Mercy spotted you and called out your name, and you and Feluän held up your hands.

It took some persuading to let the two of you approach, but when you were close enough, Mercy dropped her axe and hugged you. “We’ve been so worried,” she said, squeezing you tight. With her muscles, it was enough to make you wheeze. “Gwyn and Thom and Gale searched for you for days but even Gale’s werewolf nose lost your scent when it rained. Gods, they’ve been beside themselves.”

“I’m only alive because of Feluän,” you said, gesturing to the pale drider who was waiting on the road. All his eight legs were drawn up tight and he looked tense and wary. At that distance, and in the clear, wintry light, you suspected he also couldn’t see very far, and for someone so powerful, he was probably feeling quite vulnerable. “I’d like him to live here with us. He was living alone in that dark forest, and I don’t think anyone should have to live alone like that. Not if they don’t want to.”

Garrick jutted his small tusks and said, “Driders aren’t exactly sociable creatures. What’s he gonna do around here?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” you said a little defensively. “While I was recovering in his care, he was processing and spinning flax and weaving bolts of cloth, so he could help Rowan, but I don’t think his place here should be determined by what he can do for us, do you?”

Garrick’s eyes darkened with shame, and he shook his head.

“I’ll catch up with you later. Right now, all I want is a bath and a change of clothes.” Your own shirt had been washed while you’d been recovering, and Feluän had stitched it up, but it was still stained with your blood and more than a bit travel-worn now.

The approach to the village was deserted, but when you stepped out from the shady road and into the brilliant, afternoon sun that bathed the thatched houses in stark light, Feluän grunted and closed his eyes, shielding them with one hand and wincing.

“You alright?” you asked.

“It’s so bright,” he rasped. “I… I can’t even see you and you’re right next to me.”

You paused and said, “This way. We’ll take the side road and go along one of the deer paths through the trees to the cave home I’ve got in mind for you. You can meet everyone tonight when the sun’s gone down.”

“I’m sorry.”

Shaking your head, you frowned. “No, Feluän. You have nothing to be sorry for. Let’s go.” You laid your hand on his foremost left leg, and changed direction, heading for the tall oak and beech trees that bordered the village.

You passed by your cottage, though you did point it out to him, and continued up the slope to the small, rocky outcrop where the old cave had sat empty since its previous occupant had moved to be nearer to her relatives. “This used to belong to Dinara,” you said. “She’s a dwarf, but the cave isn’t at her scale, don’t worry.”

He laughed, and now that you were in the shade, you noticed that his eyes were meeting yours again, and he wasn’t squinting so much. “Come here,” he said, and he lowered himself down to kiss you. “Thank you. I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

“If it’s not, I know people will help you alter it. They helped me build my house when I moved here, so you could always just build something new if it doesn’t suit.”

“You make them sound like good people,” he smiled.

Squeezing his hand, you said, “They are. They’re going to love you, I promise.”

“So long as they don’t try to hack me to bits with their axes… The one you called ‘Garrick’ sounded ready to cut my legs off earlier.”

“He’s protective, not unlike you,” you said wryly. “Come on. Let me show you the cave and see if you want to live there or not.”

“If you’re nearby, it’ll be perfect,” he said smoothly, and you immediately tripped, making him laugh.

In the end, the empty cave house suited him perfectly, and, as you’d predicted, people were wary to start with, but when they heard how he’d saved you and taken care of you, and brought you home, they welcomed him like a long-lost relative — something that clearly moved him deeply. He did bristle when Thom swept you up into his bone-crushing, baker’s arms outside the village inn that night and nuzzled his tusks against your neck and expressed just how worried he’d been about you though.

When you returned to Feluän after Thom had set you down and promised you a week’s worth of free pies and cakes, Feluän was prickly and distant, until you grabbed a hold of his pedipalp and refused to let go as he turned. The moonlight flashed along the polished chitin and the limb straightened as he turned away while you held it, but he twitched back to look at you with his red eyes blazing quietly.

“Feluän…?” you purred. Oh, you liked the way he clearly wanted to be possessive of you but was forcing himself to behave. It made you flush hot all over.

“What?” he hissed, still scowling.

You caressed your hand up the limb to his shoulder and splayed your fingers wide. He gasped.

“You promised me something…”

“What was that?” he said, spreading his legs a little wider, as though he needed the extra stability to brace himself upright all of a sudden. You enjoyed seeing that the effect you had on each other was mutual.

You drew back your hand from him and he rocked forwards as if seeking the contact again. You brought your wrists together and held them out as though waiting to be tied up before looking up into his face.

His white eyelashes fluttered and his red eyes rolled closed for a moment. “Where?” he asked in a whisper. “Where do you want to go?”

“I’m not sure you’ll fit easily in my cottage…”

“You’d be surprised,” he said, “But I’ll take your word for it. I don’t have any furnishings in my new home yet.”

“You can sling me a silk hammock,” you said boldly and he groaned audibly. “You like that? You like the idea of me lying on your silk?”

He choked softly and nodded, jaw working.

“What?”

“I’m trying to keep my venom to myself this time,” he said carefully. “If I don’t let it out, I can put my mouth wherever I want to this time.”

“And where’s that?”

“Let me tie you up and you’ll find out,” he snarled, baring his double canines, patience fraying.

“Take me home then,” you whispered.

He picked you up, letting you loop your legs around his humanoid hips and holding you there with his arms and his two pedipalps while he scuttled away from the village and up the hill to the cave where an oil lamp was already burning softly on a shelf.

The cave wasn’t so much a cave as a rock-hewn home, with an additional masonry front covering the opening from the elements, and stone shelves cut into the rock inside for storage, and a shelf at the back for a bed and a huge stone bath as well. Spring water was plumbed directly into a copper cylinder for hot water beside a fireplace with a chimney built into the mountainside. It was a vast improvement on his former, tunnel-like home in the forest, and someone had brought up a load of firewood for him.

Before he’d left his new home to greet the rest of the village earlier that evening, Feluän had lit a fire in the grate and it had since filled the space with warmth, driving away the lingering damp of disuse, and as he made his way on his long, skittering legs to the back of the cave, you kissed the chitin of his shoulders and watched the firelight lick along the sculpted shape of his natural armour. He shivered and then rose right up, tucking his abdomen under him and slinging a web across the shelf where the mattress would be when you eventually found him one. For now, a low, secure hammock of web would more than suffice.

He pitched you back onto it and you bounced softly while the drider’s huge body filled the air above you. The power and ‘otherness’ of his body made you hot beneath the skin and set your core burning, and you squirmed softly while he lowered himself down around you, all four right limbs braced on the wall to your left to give him the best angle. It was unnatural and eerie and creepy and wonderful and strange and everything you wanted in that moment, so you raised your hands above your head and crossed your wrists invitingly.

“You’re so good for me,” he purred and you arched upwards. The web hammock was substantial enough that you didn't feel in the least like your bodyweight was going to tear through it, but it left you feeling exposed and at his mercy. He undressed you carefully, his claws peeling the fabric back until you were as naked as he was. His spider’s body twitched and that clear fluid dripped down onto your shin, betraying his own arousal even as your own was made all the more evident to him.

He parted your legs with one clawed hand and carefully pressed the heel of his palm against where you were soaking wet. “Look at you,” he smiled, eyes glinting. “I can smell you. I can’t wait to taste you properly.” Then he licked his hand clean and your brain went blank for a moment as you watched and heard him groan.

His silk was cool as he wrapped your wrists tightly enough to immobilise your arms and then he secured the line to one of the others, pinning you in place as securely as any rope tied to a headboard ever could be.

“Fuck…” you cursed, arching your spine and spreading your legs. Your clit was swollen and sensitive already, but when he slid his arms underneath your thighs and brought his face close enough that his breath shivered across your wet skin, you gasped and bucked.

Feluän’s tongue teased you to start with as he simply savoured the taste of you, but when he got to work in earnest, his claws pricked your skin and he held you down while you tried to writhe and squirm. You weren’t shy about the sounds you made, and when you saw the way his abdomen was moving in time with his tongue on your body, you realised he was every bit as turned on as you are. You knew that driders didn’t mate the way humans did, and that when he came, he was most likely going to make a mess all over you. The thought of it made your eyes roll.

His nose nudged against your clit as he delved deeper into you with his tongue, moaning and kissing and sucking and devouring.

“I’m getting close, love,” he whispered in the tiny silence that blossomed around you when he drew back to adjust his grip on your legs. You’d never been rendered immobile like this by a partner before, with your hands tied and your legs clamped in his grip, and you felt your body clench in the absence of his tongue. He laughed, low and seductive. “So are you, aren’t you?”

Mind a blur with pleasure, you just nodded and keened.

“When I come, can I come over you?” he asked, and he sounded utterly wrecked.

“Gods, please,” you gasped, bucking weakly. “Please, anything, Feluän. Please… I need… I need you to… please…”

“Need me to do what, love?” he asked, licking teasingly over you with the tip of his tongue, savouring you without returning to his earlier endeavours to make you come. It was too much and nowhere near enough and you let out a broken sob. “If you don’t tell me, I can’t do it,” he said provocatively.

With a growl of frustration and effort, you wrangled the words into the right order in your hazy mind. “I need you to make me come, Feluän.”

“That’s good,” he praised and you arched upwards, legs parting a little wider for him. “Gods, you’re everything,” he whispered as he leaned back down and closed his mouth around your clit.

You gave another wild yell at the barrage of stimulation, and under a minute later you came with a heaving shout against his mouth. Waves of pleasure swept through you, and only a second after you stuttered out his name again, you heard him give a tiny ‘oh’ of surprise before he reared up, his whole body tensing and starting to shake, before his own release gushed over the spot where his mouth had just been. The heat of his come against you there sent you over the edge again and you thrashed beneath him. He was still coming when he lowered his humanoid torso down atop yours again and pulled you close, one clawed hand around the back of your head.

“Oh gods,” he said, his whole body twitching and coming while he cradled you beneath him. “Oh gods, you’re everything. You’re perfect… gods… oh…”

Eventually, his orgasm faded and he staggered, all his legs moving out of sync as he tried not to crush you while the strength fled his limbs and he collapsed onto the webbing.

You’d never been such a mess after sex, and you’d also never come quite so hard.

He reached dazedly out with one of his taloned pedipalps and carefully slashed through the silk holding your wrists together, then he raised his head a little more to regard you. “Are you alright?” he asked. “That wasn’t too much?”

“Perfect,” you mumbled. “You made a big mess though,” you said when you felt his release sliding over your thighs and hips.

“I’ve never made that much mess,” he said and he looked genuinely embarrassed when he pushed himself upright.

“Good job there’s a bath over there,” you said, eyeing the basin that was practically a small swimming pool. It was certainly big enough for a drider to soak himself in relative comfort too.

Feluän staggered over to it and turned the bronze tap that started a flow of hot water from the gigantic cistern beside the fire and then returned to you. “Can I carry you?” he asked, looking shy for the first time in your relatively short acquaintance.

“You’re going to have to. I can’t feel my legs,” you said.

“I didn’t — My venom —” he sputtered in horror. “I —”

“Oh, it’s not you,” you chuckled as you floundered to sit upright. “I mean, it was you, but not your venom.”

He deflated comically in relief and laughed as he scooped you up and bore you towards the tub. Glancing back, you saw that his come was all over the webbing and had dripped through onto the floor.

Feluän set you down on the shelf that ran around the edge of the bath washed you off while it filled. The gentle action of his caring, attentive hands on your body soothed you and worked you up again, and when you moaned and bucked weakly into his hand, he raised an eyebrow. “Again?” he breathed, as though hardly daring to believe it.

“Please?” you whispered, eyes half-closed where you floated in the warm water.

He was careful with his claws, using only the pad of his finger against you, and when you came with a little sigh and heaved into his arms a few minutes later, he smiled at you and leaned down to kiss you.

“I want to do that to you every day,” he said over the rush of water into the bath. “I don’t want a day to go past where I haven’t seen you make that face for me.”

How could you refuse an offer like that when it was so generously made?

I really hope you enjoyed this. If you did, and you made it all the way to the end, please consider showing your support by reblogging. It really is the best (and totally free!) way to help the artists and writers whose work you enjoy.

Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

#drider #drider x reader #male drider #trans male reader #reader insert #male drider x reader #male drider x trans male reader #monster fucker #exophilia #monster romance #fantasy romance #non human romance #monster boyfriend #drider boyfriend

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queenburd · 1 year

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Hey so, I’ve been off of work since January on disability, but my disability pay STILL hasn’t been approved (yeah. it’s April. I am exceptionally frustrated) so I have not been paid in 3 months. I am trying my best to get through it until the paperwork is approved but I would really appreciate help.

You can donate to my paypal here

I also do have commissions open here

honestly idk how much longer I can keep doing this, especially if my disability is denied for whatever reason. any help is appreciated.

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irishmammonagenda · 2 months

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How I Think The Obey Me Dateables + Co Would React to The Rumours™️

Summary: Rumours have been floating around the Devildom. Rumours about a certain Angel and Sorcerer...how will the demon brothers react? Word Count: funny joke! Content Warnings: nothing i dont think Disclaimer: This will probably not make a lot of sense unless you've read this fic here for context, but ykw life doesnt make sense you do you <3

[Brothers Version]

dividers by @cafekitsune

You had left the Sorcerers' Society feeling quite flustered, but also extremely pleased with yourself. Take that Solomon. You grin. In all the excitement of the following days, you'd forgotten about the rumour you had accidentally spread around the Devildom. Perhaps you shouldn't've pretended to be Archangel Michael to gain entry....

💙💚BARBATOS💚💙

Finds out about the rumours relatively quickly, Little D No.2 sees him nearly dropping a plate before catching it with his tail. He was sworn to secrecy.

Poor Little D No.2

His first thought is shock, his second thought is.

'What did you do MC?'

smiling he dials your number on his DDD.

You were in the middle of doing homework, or rather, sitting at your desk staring at your homework when Barbatos called. "Hiya Barbs!" You grin into your DDD. "Hello MC." You can hear the Butler's smile through the phone. "What's got you calling Barbie?" "There have been some rumours of a certian bastard sorcerer and Archangel in a romantic relationship...you wouldn't happen to know anything of it?" You laugh. "My assassination attempt went wrong." Barbatos lets out a small chuckle along with you. "I can't say Solomon doesn't deserve it." You pause. "Barbs?" "Yes, MC?" "Would you maybe wanna...go to the next Devildom Carnival with me?" You mumble into the phone, but he catches it. Thankfully, he was feeling nice, and did not teasingly ask you to repeat it. "Of course I would MC," Barbatos tone softens, smile visible in his voice. "Perhaps you can tell me more of this assassination attempt going aray?" "It'd be my pleasure Barbie."

❤️❤️DIAVOLO❤️❤️

Barbatos tells him.

Remember the sticker incident? Yeah. Diavolo laughs when he hears about it

This could be a great help in uniting the 3 realms!!!

And hey, if someone commissions Asmo to make stickers of Michael x Solomon, dont look at Diavolo who is very suspiciously whistling innocently.

"Hi Asmo!" Lord Diavolo steps out from the shadows. Asmodeus shrieks, loosing all colour in his face before gaining it back again and grinning excitedly." Diavolo! What are you doing in my room?~" Diavolo shooshes him, pale golden eyes widening as he looks around the Avatar of Lust's room. "Not so loud." After deeming it safe enough, the Demon Prince continues, "I snuck away from Barbatos" Asmo makes a noise of understanding, he looks up at the other through foxlike eyes. "So what can I do for you Dia? ~" The Prince smiles ear to ear. "Remember the stickers you made of me and Lucifer. Well, I'd like to commission something." Asmodeus gasps excitedly, moving a stray champagne coloured lock from his forehead, he grabs his bejeweled pen and journal. "Of course! We can discuss pricing later on! First things first! What would you like?~" "Well..." Diavolo lets out a booming laugh, "Maybe something quite similar to the stickers of me and Lucifer, except with Michael and Solomon?" Asmodeus sets his pen and sketchbook down, looking up at the Devildom's present goofball and future ruler. "Y'know what, Diavolo?" He smirks mischievously. "It's on the house." Diavolo pouts, "At least let me buy you Majolish's new line of clothes." "Awww!~ If I had a ring that I didn't want to keep for myself I'd propose to you!~" Diavolo laughs. These stickers were going to be amazing.

🩷🩷THIRTEEN 🩷🩷

Haha L Solomon

Knows it's fake from the moment she hears it.

Upset she didn't think to start it....but when she finds out from Satan you had a hand in it?

Damn bbg she's about to have your hand in marriage😏

You were just trying to walk home from RAD, having finally gotten a moment of peace from your idiots when an extremely loud 'VROOOM' startles you. A black motorcycle with pink accents traverses the streets of the Devildom like it's attempting to audition for Fast and Furious, before going rogue and coming straight towards you. Scared, you start to sprint, alas, even as an angel,you can't outrun motorcycles. You don't wanna die! The mystery rider drives beside your sprinting, catching up to you before reaching their leather gloved hands out and; YOINK! The motorcyclist pulls you flush against their chest, holding you there with one arm as they use the other to steer. You've been kidnapped by a motorcyclist who thinks they're in GTA. Great. Being kidnapped by a crazed motorcyclist before GTA 6....actually, maybe this was GTA 6. "As much as I'd love to hear your screams in a different context MC, can you stop screaming?" A voice asks through the Motorcycle helmet, you immediately stop squirming to get out of the Motorcyclist's arms. "Thirteen?!" She laughs, "Awww, I love it when you say my name!" You drive in relative silence for a while until she reaches a small cafe. She stops the bike and takes her helmet off, her long ombre hair is tied in a ponytail, she takes out the bauble and lets it fall down. Bloodied emerald eyes lock onto yours as she pulls you in for a kiss. "What's this about you dying and not giving me your soul...." She says in mock sadness before jumping off of the motorcycle, helping a dazed you to your feet. "No bother!" She flirts, tucking a stray hair away from your face, "You can just give me your soul, and your heart, and your body, and your mind!" You blush. "W-why are you in the Devildom Tee?" "Well a certain someone-" She pinches your cheek, "made up a fabulous rumour about that Rat-Bastard! So I'm here to give them a lovely little dinner date and my hand in marriage as a reward!" "Excuse me? Could you repeat that?!" You ask, heart racing. Thirteen just laughs and gives you a kiss that leaves you breathless, a soft blush of her own showing up on her porcelain skin. You walked out of your impromptu unofficial kidnapping dinner date a married MC. Time to go to Vegas to make it official!

💜💜MEPHISTOPHELES💜💜

The man found out because you told him.

He is not impressed. Couldn't you have made up a rumour about Lucifer dating someone?!

No MC, this is a serious newspaper! He is not posting gossip. Or advertising fanfictions. Especially ones with a name like that!

What do you mean Lord Diavolo would 'want you to do it, Mephisto!!' are you trying to emotionally blackmail him?!

"Pleaseeeee!" "No." You try again. "Mephisto pleaseeeeeee?" He gives you a rather rude look. Damn, rich people really were good at looking at people like they were dirt on their shoes. "I won't ask for anything ever again!" "You will, and the answer is still no MC." He glares at you. Pear green eyes filled with annoyance. "The RAD newspaper is sacred! I'm not posting fanfiction on there! We are a serious organisation!" "You post popularity polls." You deadpan. "This is why I hate rich people." "Let me go wipe my tears with my various stacks of grimm lying around. Speaking of which, how did you get into my house, MC?" You grin sheepishly. "No comment!" "MC." "Your little brother let me in! He's very nice, unlike you! Now please I'm begging you!" Mephisto raises an eyebrow. "You don't look like you're begging." "I'm not getting down on my knees. I'm going to piss in your cereal." Mephistopheles scoffs. "I don't eat cereal. That's poor people behaviour." You sniffle, deciding that the best course of action would be to annoy him. "You know, you're acting like Lucifer right now! Not letting me post this in the Newspaper." Mephisto waggles his finger at you, "Send me a Devilmail of what you want included later." "Yay!" You cheer. Satan was going to be so happy when he found out you managed to get your fanfic mentioned in the RAD Newspaper!

🩵🩵SIMEON 🩵🩵

He finds out after you print out the published parts of the fanfiction you and Satan wrote.

He's an author after all! What better person to get constructive criticism from?!

Someone please save this poor man.

Solomon looked up at Michael with dull eyes devoid of emotion, just previously they had shone with tears, now they were just dead. A graveyard of feeling. "Take it back Michael." The sorcerer mutters, but Michael heard him clearly. "What you said about Humankind...take it back!" "It's the truth Solomon!" Michael raises his voice, the rain dropping like bullets against the windows of Cocytus Hall. "I can't do this anymore!" Solomon blurts out, before turning on his heel, cape flapping, as he runs out of the door, into the storm outside, his arms cover tear-stricken his face. "Solomon wait!" Michael races out after him braving the- "MC..." Simeon looks up at you, he takes his reading glasses off and gently sets the paper down, attempting to avoid looking at anything else written on it. "MC, what is this?" "Art." You nod seriously. "It is good writing MC, but, why?" "Why not?" You tilt your head. "With all the love in my heart, darling, I'm forcing myself to forget this story's existence." You pat Simeon's back. "That's probably for the best Simmy."

🤎🤎RAPHAEL 🤎🤎

Solomon? Michael was going out with Solomon?

This worked out great for him actually, this meant he could eat Solomon's food more often. How delicious!

Disappointed when he finds out the rumours aren't true.

"Raphael for the last time, do I look like the type of person that would date Solomon?!" Michael says exasperatedly, covering his face with his hands and fake sobbing. Drama king. "You are a bit odd. Are you sure you're not dating him? I won't judge you, Michael, I respect you a lot." Raphael nods seriously. "I am not dating Solomon." Raphael pouts, "I see. Have you considered dating Solomon?" Michael grabs a pillow and screams into it.

🖤🖤SOLOMON🖤🖤

Finds out through Asmo

Is that a fanficiton, MC?

Two can play at this game.

You enter your room when you feel a hand go over your mouth. You attempt to scream, but seeing as there's a hand over your mouth, it doesn't exactly go very well for you. "Relax Mc, It's just me." You turn your head around to see Solomon and that signature sneaky smile on his face. You scream louder. He chuckles and mutters a few words, all of a sudden you feel very sleepy.... Hours later, you wake up on your bed, now around 3 feet tall and with familiar pink wool, your hands and feet are now hooves, beside you Solomon had been oh so kind as to leave you a note. Cant write Fanfiction if you don't have hands. Jokes on him. You're a co-author.

🩵🤍LUKE🤍🩵

hears some demons talking about it at RAD while he´s in Devildom history

Michael are Solomon are DATING??!!!

LIKE THE THING PEOPLE DO BEFORE THEY GET MARRIED??!!

Michael and Solomon are getting MARRIED??!!

Is Solomon his dad now?

Luckily for Luke and Unluckily for Michael, Michael is still in the Devildom, so when Luke gets home, he goes to ask Michael about it.

Sounds of sizzling and chopping can be heard from the kitchen in Purgatory Hall, and thankfully, it's not Solomon. Michael hums as he expertly dices the onions up and puts them into the blender with the tomatoes, broccoli and cauliflower. His long golden hair had been haphazardly thrown into a plait, small curls that didn't feel like conforming popping out here and there, sauce stains found themselves a home on his dark skin, he stuck his tongue out in concentration. Frozen meatballs had been left out to thaw, and now the Archangel was making the vegetables in the sauce so they'd undetectable to a certain fussy young angel. "Michael?" The young angel in question calls out in the doorway resulting in Michael exclaiming something that sounded like 'GAH!' and attempting to hide Luke's view of the blender. "Hiya Lukey!" Michael grins awkwardly. "What's up with you today? Haha." Now long used to Michael's strangeness, Luke pays it no mind. "Michael, I have a question." The archangel turns the various pans on the stove to the lowest heat before sitting on a stool on the kitchen island and pulling Luke up to sit on his knee. "What's up Kiddo?" He grins, tilting his head at the boy. Luke fiddles with his thumbs, his blue eyes meeting Michael's red ones. "Is it true you and Solomon are getting married?" Michael's smile drops. He pats Luke's blond hair, "No Lukey, me and Solomon are not getting married, nor are we in a relationship." Luke's face flushes, he clenches his tiny fists. "Those demons! Making up lies!" Michael shakes the image of you from his mind. "Yeah. Demons. Yup!"

lads im gonna be honest here i havent met mephsitles or hwoever u spell it a lot in game (as well as thirteen and raphael) so apologies if theyre really ooc😰

#obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #omswd #obey me mc #obey me michael #obey me thirteen #obey me thirteen x reader #obey me diavolo #obey me asmodeus #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me luke #obey me mephisto x mc #obey me mephisto #obey me solomon #obey me raphael #obey me simeon

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arcade-writing · 3 months

Text

Little Bunny

NSFW 🍋

Pairing: William Afton x AFAB! reader

Warning: age gap (reader is a grown adult), infidelity from William, pet names, minor breeding kink, Daddy kink, William is a shitty person, manipulation(?), rough sex, boss x employee, reader is unaware William has wife and kids (they're new to town and Will makes no effort to show he's married), reader is pretty oblivious, eating out, protected penetration, desk sex, minor pervert! William, scent kink, pussy slapping, Condom breaking, Praise kink, creampie, light degradation, he starts off 'nice' and then gets mean, alot of dirty talk, minor choking, overstimulation

Hey y'all... how's it been... I haven't posted a story since uh- April 17th, 2023 ....... yeah....hello again! I genuinely had the worst writers block & honestly horny block. Even when I started getting ideas and my thirsting back on, it was just never enough to write. I always hope when I start writing again it'll mean good news for my flow but, idk. (Also P.S I'm doing art commissions so if y'all wanna check that out you can right here , if you wanna, Just reblogging even if you're not interested would be really helpful, thank you!)

This is based off my own au so timeline may make no sense compared to the games and it is a rough idea - we're here for smut not lore. So please excuse the rough wages timeline wise. Just wanna say, I do not condone cheating or really, anything William does - but if you're crushing on a fictional character that kills kids you gotta accept he's gonna be scum. And sometimes you gotta embrace it a little.

You were one of the newer hires since the business has been getting slower, one too many crimes attached to the Pizzeria's reputation. Missing kid cases connected to the business but no proof to say it had any real causality to them. Bodies never found, no camera footage, solid alibis. Nothing. But that didn’t deter people. In fact, it seemed to bring a morbid curiosity. Some wanted to feel a sense of scandal by just being in the building. It was a small town, everyone knew everyone. Hearing their family diner was the talk of the town for so many headlines was horrid luck in attracting outside locals.

Unbeknownst to you, you were Williams best employee and to him, his little bunny, he was obsessed with you. But he knew had an image as your boss and a family man to uphold; but that didn’t stop him from trying to get a slice of your attention and getting what he wanted. He was a selfish man; he tried of the perfect suburb he’s crafted for himself. Who was he to deny his interest in the new hire? Sure you were younger but that just seemed to go in his favour.

Abit thankful the town, even in their grief, were still held by the morbid curiosity and tendencies to still come. The small boom in business makes it feel like how it has to be. Even gave him a reason to finally bring their newest attraction; a new band to play now he and Henry had to practically remodel themselves to centre stage. Freddy’s little band was minor show they pulled when they couldn’t perform or either of the springlock animatronics were out of commission. But if William can still keep this damn business afloat; he can give the spotlight to his newer creations.

The kids were finally done demanding your attention; it was a slow day since it was still early morning and most kids were at school. A band of kids flagged you down and insisted on giving you a makeover. Reluctantly, you agreed and you had two little girls who put chunky plastic jewelry they won or had on you. The boys immediately tried to put face paint on you, putting messy yellow face paint around your eyes and a bit of your cheek. You were so thankful when their parents finally coaxed their children to let you get back to work.

Huffing as you headed towards the back of the diner to get to the staff bathrooms, the back was still semi in construction. Loose wires here and there, some unpainted walls. Your coworkers said before the press and the police investigation the diner was expanding it’s building but with everything that happened; it’s all been delayed. Meanwhile, William saw everything through the security cameras, watching the chunky computer flicker through footage. Spotting you head towards the back, where the cameras were still buggy, quickly heading towards his office door and opening it; just so conveniently opening the door when you walk past and spotting you. Wearing that signature grin under his scruffy beard, his smile stretching uncomfortably wide. Stretching to his eyes but his stare never matched.

“Ah- little bunny, hopping away from the job, huh?” He teased softly, knowing full well what you were doing.

At the sound of his voice, you jump as a noise of surprise slips out from you.

“No! Oh no-! I just wanted to get this face paint off!” You quickly say, not wanting my boss to think you were trying to slack off. Sheepishly gesturing to the thick yellow face paint around your eyes as your cheeks, feeling them heat up with embarrassment. You looked so stupid. He couldn't help but laugh, that was the reaction he liked – seeing you becoming sheepish around him. He can feel his smile grow wider.

“We can’t have you not look the part.” He tuts, using the still semi wet face paint on your cheek and smearing it on the tip of your nose, making a heart shape with it , his thumb now smudged with yellow as he liked the bunny-like nose he painted on you. It surprised you, eyes widening as you grew an awkward smile as you adjusted your uniform. Your trainers are scratching the back of your other leg, feeling the purple knee high socks roll down due to it. “I guess we can’t.”

“Let’s fix that then.” William patted the doorframe of his office before gesturing you to get inside, he wasn’t going to have you scurry off to the bathroom. “Come sit, little bunny, let’s sort this face paint, hm? I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this in public” He chuckled, moving out of your way so you could enter. “It’d be pretty embarrassing-“ William saw the way you squirmed at the idea of being considered an embarrassment to your own employer, deciding to give you some mercy as he finished his sentence. “-for you, wouldn’t it?”

You reluctantly agree, sighing as you walk into his office. Seeing the golden bunny plush on his shelf of memorabilia of his work. Trying to calm yourself down from your own prickling nerves, Fiddling with the wire bunny paper holder on his desk as you couldn’t help but chuckle at the obvious attatched he had to to the long eared creature. His eyes followed your every move; the bunny plushie was something important to him, something sentimental; it was a plush of the golden rabbit he once dressed up as. A victory statement to himself for what he got away with; he liked having trinkets of his achievements. He closed his office door, contemplating locking it but didn’t want to get too eager. Making sure the window was covered with the mini curtain; the more privacy the better.

He guided you to sit In the plush yellow chair beyond you, grabbing some wet wipes from the drawer of his desk. “Such a soft little bunny, can I touch?” He asked playfully, crouching in front of you as he turned his attention to your face, using a wet wipe to remove the paint smear from your nose first. Your nose scrunched at the sudden feel of something wet. The smell was always too clean – some just smelt acidic. When you sat down, you didn’t expect to get somewhat pampered, you knew William could be pretty hands on as a person but you didn’t expect this. He cleaned up the rest of your face without much issue, his movements were precise and a bit rough when it comes to rubbing off the face paint on your cheeks. The thicker spots and cheap paint make it cling to your skin abit more. When satisfied with the wipe and picking up the next wipe to start on getting the yellow around your eyes off, careful to avoid poking your eyes.

Peering down as he saw you fiddling with the fabric of your shorts; one of the reasons he loved the summer time. He got to see your pretty legs on show. He had the desire to run his finger down the length of your shorts, he couldn’t get the thought out of his head, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. But he held himself back, just as he did with the urge to pull you away from the seat right now and on top of him.

Once he pulled away you gently tried to dab away some of the dampness with your hand. Your cheeks stinging a bit from his roughness. Smoothing out your clothes to look more presentable as you hummed. “Thank you, Mr Afton.” You say, just reaching down to sort out your fallen down sock.

“It's not a problem at all, I have to make sure everyone follows uniform code.” William shrugged, throwing the crumbled wet wipes into the bucket looking pin by his desk. You were so oblivious to how obsessed he was with you. Letting him wipe your face clean and didn’t even protest. He often wondered what excuses you made up in your cute little head to not dwell on his behaviour.

His focus shifted as he watched you reach down, beating you to it as he grabbed your ankle and propped your foot on his thigh, wiggling your sock back up until it reached up just under your knee, giving you a pat with his signature grin. You knew this wasn’t very professional but he always seemed so doting; you just took it as perhaps it was just his instincts to take care of others. Unaware of the horrific things he’s done. His persona to others as this caring, sweet businessman – blaming him snapping at workings as stress and then gifts his employees with free snacks or drinks to make up for it.

“Thank you again.” You say. Nodding to your now lifted sock as you look down at him, still crouched before you.

“I already said it's no problem, being too polite can be annoying.” William stated, his words sickly sweet. As if just giving some friendly advice. Rubbing your knee as his thumb caressed it. He knew this might be inappropriate but he needed this and you were such a good little employee; you wouldn’t speak up, you were a good little bunny that does what he asks. Always trying to please the people around you and fit in as the new hire of the place.

He could still see the faint remnants of yellow face paint around your eyes that he decided to leave alone, it made your eyes pop, it made you look even more pretty. He gently grabbed back of your hand, holding the palm upright and used his index finger to draw his initials in the centre; marking you as his in a way you’d never know, his other palm was hovering over yours gently. He leaned in and made sure the blinds of the window were still shut; gently kissing your hand.

Which you, in turn, jumped at the kiss – the giggle you let out at the ticklish feel of his finger drawing on your palm cut off by the surprise you felt. Feeling the scruff of his beard on your skin as your lips part. “oh-!” Your brows scrunch, unsure how you felt about him doing that as you chewed on my bottom lip. One half enjoying the attention; enjoying to be doted on and his nice words but you knew that wasn’t what a boss should do. Glancing back over to the door; perhaps it was time you went back to work now you were all cleaned up-

His smile grew a little wider as your giggle was cut off. Seeing you glance at the door, he immediately grasped your hand with both of his, adjusting to rest on one knee as his aching legs screamed at him. "sorry, I just wanted to show my thanks, you’re such a sweet bun.” He lied so easily, quickly trying to dismiss your concerns. “That was abit forward, wasn’t it? I can be like that, how I was raised and all.” When he said how he was raised, a part of you felt a little guilty for being so quick to rush off. Assuming so poorly of his actions; not like an older man hasn’t kissed your knuckles goodbye before without ill intent.

“oh..okay.” you reluctantly accept. But you were still worried you may be enjoying his attention a little bit too much. Your stomach twisting, remembering you shouldn’t be accepting this but..it felt nice. My brows scrunched and twitched as your brain spun. It wasn’t like he wasn’t an attractive man, abit scruffy but he always seemed so cheerful and wanted to make others happy. Leaning into the plump back of the yellow office chair as my hands continued to fiddle with my work shorts. My brain screaming two different things at me it kinda just made me freeze. Go still until my brain could decide what it wanted.

William loved seeing the innocent expression in your face as he looked up at you. You seemed so helpless. You were his. The fact you were allowing this, excusing it told him all he needed to know. His mind was always the eager opportunist. How far could he really push this? His eyes falling to your ankle, the fact your foot still rests on his bent knee, you made no move to remove him or yourself. His smile turned sly as he bent closer to your foot, beginning to untie the knot of your trainer.

“It's alright, it’s okay.” He shushed softly, doing his best to come off soothing when his mind was running wild. One hand went to your thigh, pushing your hand from its continuous fidget as he smoothed his palm along until the fabric was bunched up as high as it could, exposing half of your thigh to him. His other hand taking advantage he had big hands to massage, squeeze and caress along your calf down to your ankle. “Those shoes still look new, bet they pinch.” His brow raised, giving the tip of your shoes a pinch.

“They do… sometimes.” You answer quietly, becoming a deer in the headlights at the feel of his palm against your thigh. Your heart rate immediately spiking as it thumped like a drum in your chest. Your cheeks growing warmer as you leaned completely against the chair. Hands going to the sides of the cushion, gripping into them. Unable to stop the soft sigh that escaped you at the feel of your aching calf being messaged.

He slipped your shoe off as it landed on the floor with a thud. “Poor little bun.” He tutted with mock sympathy, rubbing your ankle and the heel of your foot. Repeating the same for your other leg as he put your trainers to rest by the plush seat. Swapping hands to soothe your legs.

The scruffy man looked at your work shorts, an idea coming to mind. “Bet uniform can be such a pain at times, The summer heat must be doing you no good- they could cause chaffing, we should get you changed into a size that looks more comfortable.” He cooed a little more, trying to convince you by disguising it as concern. He knew you weren’t stupid; oblivious but not stupid. You couldn’t make decisions for yourself, He needed to do it for you.

Your breathing immediately stuttered. Your hands raised to your chest to fiddle with your own fingers. “I don’t know- I don’t think you-“ The words got caught in your throat as your eyes kept glancing at the door. Your mind was screaming to get away and not indulge but my body felt like putty when you felt your muscles relax from his caressing and firm hands. He had such lovely strong hands…you couldn’t deny you’ve thought about them before. He made machines, sure with Henry, but he obviously knew how to use them for intricate wiring and metal work. Your body was absolutely relishing this man's hands being on you.

“That’s right, you don’t think and that’s okay, let me do it for you.” He chuckled, his voice soothing but his words had some bite. A part of you made you whimper at his words; you didn’t mind the sound of that. Letting him think for you. His signature smile stretched high on his cheeks, moving your legs over his shoulders as he was still bent on one knee. Grabbing your work shorts, unbuttoning them and shuffling them down, abit awkward with how you were sitting but nothing that would deter him. You gasped as you didn’t know if you should lift your hips or just stay still. Sliding off your shorts as he hummed happily at the sight of your skin now properly exposed to his wandering eye, his tongue clicking when he saw you press your thighs together.

“Now, now, no hiding from me, I need to check if you have any chaffing.” He scolded, lying through his teeth with glee. Easily prying your thighs away from each other and forced your legs apart to ‘inspect’ your smooth skin. Grinning wider when he saw the little wet patch on your underwear, a shiver running through him. Oh you really like him.

You immediately tried to hide your face behind your hand. One hand covering your crotch to hide the shameful evidence of your arousal. Whimpering a little as your feet dug into his shoulder blades a little, your breathing getting heavier embarrassment. Trembling as you couldn’t bring myself to peek at what he was doing. Feeling as if you were in a dream; there was no way this was happening. But everything felt too real, too much it was making your nerves feel like they were being electrocuted.

“How many times will I repeat myself with you? No hiding.” His voice suddenly grew huskier, snapping at you. Firmly grasping your wrist as he shoved it away from your crotch. He wasn’t going to tolerate having to say the same thing no matter how cute you were. “Look at you, getting wet just for me…have I been a bad boss? Neglecting my sweet bunny? Does that spot need attention?”

He licked his teeth, his brows knitted from his previous annoyance but his voice dripping like honey as he looked down at you. Not wanting to wait for your response. Grinning wildly and staring directly at your hidden face. The fact he could get you this riled up and helpless in his presence excited him beyond belief. He could hear the sound of your little whimpers, sliding your underwear gently to the side to attend to that slick cunt of yours.

“there, there.” Giving your vulva a wet kiss as he shakily inhaled your scent, shuddering at finally getting to sniff it beyond finding left over clothes in your locker. Finding your panties in there was a jackpot, how angry and red his cock was after stroking it so mercilessly to your sweet scent.

Immediately, you let out a scandalised gasp. Your hands shot up and grasped the back of the plush yellow chair. Eyes wide as you shuddered, “Mr Afton-!” You squeal out as my feet kick and dig into his back as my toes curl beneath your socks.

He loved that response, that high-pitched little squeal you let out as your body became the epitome of vulnerability in his arms. He had to hold in a moan of his own, his heart feeling like it was going to explode in his chest and his cock straining in his pants.

“Shhh my little bunny, it’s okay, let me clean you up.” He shushed in a sing-song tone, using those hands to firmly press your legs still. Making sure you couldn’t squirm away. He huffed in your scent a little, giving more kisses along your wet folds, Each kiss leaving a wet smack. Letting his tongue trace along with the smallest licks, just teasing you.

You whine, back arching as your hands grasp and clutch at the back of the chair as your eyes squeezed shut tight. Your legs twitching and digging into his shoulder blades as you let out cracked whimper. “Mr Afton.. please..” you weren’t even sure what you were begging for – for him to stop and be professional? Act like it never happened. Or for him to keep going. You liked what he was doing – it’s been so long since someone’s given you attention like this, most guys only wanted their turns. Feeling the scratch of his beard on the inside of your thighs, prickling your sensitive skin.

William kept kissing and sucking gently, burying his nose into your heat as he peered up at you as he gripped your thigh and hip to keep you still. Only parting to coo more encouraging words at you. Wanting you to let go and be a good bunny. To be his. “You’re doing so, so good my little bunny.” Feeling no guilt to using his control over you as he licked a long strip up your pussy. “Let your boss take care of you, it’s what I’m here for.” He mocked sweetly.

It made your stomach flutter and twist; your eyes unable to peek, keeping them eyes shut tightly, as you sighed. Relaxing and sinking against the chair as you trembled. Your body is unable to deny how good his mouth felt. He let out a pleased hum that vibrated against your folds, his hand smoothed up your hip and pushed your button-up shirt up your stomach to keep it out of his way.

“There, that feels better, I think. Doesn’t it?” His tongue left a trail of wetness where he licked and sucked. Nuzzling his face into your pussy as he moved his head side to side, groaning as he inhaled deeply your sweet scent. He loved the sound of your whimpers, your soft little whimpers. How sensitive and responsive you are to his mouth. Groaning against your hot flesh as his other hand smoothed from your thigh, pulling your underwear more out of the way to make sure he could pamper your cunt with his kisses. His tongue prodded at your entrance as he kneeled fully, letting his nose nestle and bump against your clit.

“..yes..” you breathed out, one hand dropping from the gripping the back of the seat, your hand instinctively grasping his well kept hair. Brown and grey strands in your fist as your eyes fluttered open. Your hips bucked and squirmed with his continuous kisses and licks. Your lips falling open and unable to close them. His breath hitched at the sudden grasp of his hair, a low groan leaving his lips. “My little bunny wants more.” He hummed, his face moving to the side as he sat back a little to watch your face.

The way you bucked and squirmed, he couldn’t help but feel that satisfaction of knowing he was the one to make you do so. Seeing you grasping his hair as a sign to keep going. He knew he could hold you down and continue to pleasure you to his heart’s content. But he wanted to see how vulnerable you could become as he leaned back, his warm breath blowing over your sensitive spot. He wanted to see how far he could push you, to break you out of your shell as his eyes gazed up at you. Hastily burying his face back into your weeping cunt as he kissed up and began hungrily sucking on your clit. Feeling it throb against his tongue as it traced the letters of his name against it. Shaking his head as he did as he slurped noisily.

William pulled back for a small gulp of air, not wanting to part from your perfect cunt for too long. “How does that make you feel, sweetheart?” He teased, eyes squinting as his thumb caressed your tummy. “your boss making you feel so good, sucking on your clit like that?”

You mewl, tugging on his hair as your back arches from the constant attention to your sensitive bud. Just his breath fanning against it was making you shiver. “Yes- yes sir-“ but once those words left your mouth he tutted, shaking his head as he pulled back more. Frowning as he licked his now glossy lips. “No, no, bunny that’s not how you address the man eating out your pussy, now is it?"

“…n-no?” You stammer with confusion, already whining at the loss of his mouth. Tilting my head as I gave his hair another tug, wanting him to continue but all that did was make him slap your clit. The sting and suddenness made you jump with a yelp. A moan fluttering out your throat. Your legs squeezing at the side of his head, your knees bumping into his ear.

“No is correct.” William hummed, proud of your answer, caressing where he slapped as he raised a brow. “You should call me daddy, that sounds nicer, right? You can call me that, can’t you?” He coos, tilting his head as his nose crinkled as his smirk grew. Expectant eyes watching your every move, seeing the embarrassment grow on your face. Your lips opening and closing as you just let out a shaky breath. Slowly nodding but that earns you another slap. You let out a high pitched whine at your poor bud getting smacked.

“Use your words.” He ordered, his voice only growing firmer, this time not giving any soothing caress to the small sting. “yes…daddy” the word falls off your tongue, making your stomach twist and flutter. It felt strange but it didn’t feel wrong. Despite your hesitance he rewards it by bending back down, lavishing your sex with kisses as muffled praises left his lips.

Williams tongue was long And thick but grew a bit more slender to the tip of it. It dragged and lapped at your wetness as he groaned. His hand on your thigh, adjusting your leg on his shoulder as he kept his face pinned to your heat. The hand holding up your shirt tugging it up after unbuttoning a few of the bottom ones. Pulling the edge of the shirt towards your mouth and you bit down. Holding the shirt with your teeth as you slightly drooled against the fabric. With his hands free, his thumbs now on either side of your fluttering hole to keep you open. Grunting as he prods his tongue into you, fucking you with it as he sucks and slurps hungrily at your arousal. You gasp, shaking as your hands tug on his hair and try to pry his ravenous tongue from your sloppy cunt. It was too much- groaning deep into the fabric between your teeth as your eyes fluttered.

William plunged a finger inside you alongside his tongue. Only pulling back to speak. “don’t fucking try to stop me. You can handle it.” He immediately went back to work as your head flew back. Your legs are tightening and kicking against his shoulder blades. “I’m gonna-“ you whine, breathing as shaky as the rest of you as you squirmed. Feeling yourself dangle right at that edge as his finger hastily pumped in and out of you. Getting closer and closer – feeling so good- just as you reached right on that edge he suddenly pulled away, liicking his lips. Making you cry out in protest, eyes wide.

“Daddy- no- I was almost there!” You pleaded. Too needy to be embarrassed by the title for him as you gave another kick to his shoulder blade with the heel of your foot. He just tutted and shook his head. "No, you're only gonna cum around my cock and only then.”

Your eyes widen. Breath hitching as words caught in your throat making the shirt drop from your mouth. Unable to even try to speak as he suddenly pulled himself from in between your legs and grasped your hips, yanking you up. Bouncing you in his arms with a strained grunt as he carried you over to his desk. Grabbing what files he could and shoved it to the side – letting anything else be swiped off without care. Placing you down on the edge of the desk with a small thud. You hissed slightly at the small smack of your rear against the old hardwood. He unbuttoned your shirt at your chest, opening it up as he grinned at the sight of your chest.

“Daddy’s waited so long to play with these.” He breathed out, moving your shirt more out of the way to keep your chest exposed. Squeezing and groping at it, pressing against the perk of your nipple. Caressing it with the pad of his thumb as he hummed.

Your breathing hitches, puffing your chest more into his big hand, feeling dizzy from the way it felt like he was engulfing you. His fingers long but still thick, palm rough with work and age. You grasped his wrist as he kneaded at your chest as you glanced down and saw a prominent tent in the front of his pants. A small wet spot already formed from his own excitement.

Noticing where you were looking he used his other hand to unbuckle his pants, tugging them down to his ankles along with his boxers. Letting his cock spring free as it smacked against his yellow shirt, the sticky tip just smearing pre on it as it drooled. Twitching as your eyes were glued to it. He’s longer than any of the guys you’ve tried before, thicker too but not too much. “O-oh shit…..” You breath out with wide eyes, reaching out your hand to grasp it but he stops you. “Ah ah- no Bunny, you’ll make me cum if you do that, let me feel you cum around me first.”

You nod, and yelp at another smack to your poor throbbing clit. Covering your mouth to muffle your surprise as you panted. Removing your hand to respond as he raised an expecting brow. “Yes daddy-“ with a satisfied hum he strokes your tummy as he pushes your back more against the desk. Ready to align himself with your hole, his eyes watching the way it clenches at nothing in anticipation. Sticky with your arousal and his spit. Eager to feel exactly how good you’ll make him feel-

“Wait-! Do you have a condom?” You ask with a flurry of sense, so caught up in the whirlpool that was William and your need you almost forgot. Sure you’re already on birth control but you always preferred to be safe.

At the question, William huffed quietly. Forcing his uncomfortably wide smile back as his hand twitched. A flair of annoyance rising at your request but he wasn’t looking for any risk to this. As tempting as knocking you up sounded, he couldn’t handle another snot faced kid. Three was more than enough. Besides, he can’t let anyone find out about this. So with a nod, he walks around the desk and goes through the top draw where he spots a purple condom. You immediately felt relief upon seeing the packet; confused why your boss has it but thankful nonetheless.

Once rolled on he resumed his position between your legs as he stared down at you. Licking his teeth as his brow twitches, his smile still perked on his lips. “Now you’re gonna take daddy’s cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes daddy, fuck me!”

“Dirty bunny.” He chuckles with surprise. William lines his cock with your entrance, rubbing the tip against your clit. Tapping the head of his cock against it before dragging it down your folds. He grinned as he suddenly grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand to his dick and curled your fingers around it. “You want it? Then guide it in, bunny, be good for me.” You did just that, aligning it perfectly, your hips flexing as your legs adjusted at his hips and slid down on the head of his cock.

Immediately, Your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the stretch. “Oh-! You’re so fucking tight.” He thrusts a couple of times, fighting the resistance. He desperately held back the urge to cum, groaning as he slid in and out. Sawing himself into you as he worked you open with his cock. You already felt so much better than his wife. You didn’t bitch at him or refuse to let him eat you out. You didn't say no to him. And you’re so tight- squeezing his dick like you owned it. And William wasn’t a man to be owned but he could definitely get use to your pussy hugging him whenever he needed you.

His cock buried deep Inside of you as he eased in, nestling right against that certain spot. Making you let out a strained moan, eyes rolling back. “Easy, Bun, easy-“ he hushes, his stubble tickling your ear as he hunches over you. His teeth tugging on the shell of your ear as he let out a husky chuckle.

William paused in his thrusts, giving you a moment to fully adjust. Wanting you to become more needy as you squirmed. Rolling your hips as you tried to grind against him. Seeing your pathetic state, he gave you a second before he thrusts into you once again, His grip on your hips were tight. The first squeal of your wetness from his movements made him let out a rumbling groan from his throat. Pumping into you as he nodded his head. The resistance of your tightening walls growing less and less as his fingers dragged and kneaded into your hips. “Take it-take it! Fucking take it!” Skin slapping against skin, his grip on your hips as your body dug into the desk underneath you, you kept your hand to your mouth to muffle you.

Williams thrusts were getting faster now, his thighs smacking into yours as yours, your legs squeezing his hips which only pushed him closer, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, the desk creaking. Everything building together with his rugged breaths, your muffled whines. His eyes pinned you down as one hand snaked up your body to your throat, squeezing ever so slightly as his cock kissed your g-spot as he arched his back.

It all made your stomach clench, that tightening knot in your gut approaching quicker, clamping down on his cock with every stroke. “Gonna cum on my cock, bunny? Making you feel good?” he taunted, tilting his head as you desperately nodded your head. Trying to respond back to him as your voice cracked and your moans overcame any words you attempted to speak. “Cum on it, squeeze it tight, come on.”

“I’m gonna- ohh- fuck-!” you squeal, your eyes rolling as your back arched, panting as your hand tightened over your quivering lips. You could see his hair messy and no longer neatly slicked back, the part you tugged on and the sweat on his forehead ruining his hair gel made the tuffs sweep over his forehead. His brows tightly knit in concentration. “cum on my cock, little bun, go on.” He grunted, keeping up pace as his hand tightened around your neck. Just beginning to steal the air from you as your fluttering eyes remained rolled. Bucking your hips furiously as your orgasm crashed over you. Whimpering as came, and you came hard. Practically choking his dick as you did. Stars littering your voice as you whine, tugging on his wrist to let go of your neck.

With a groan he let go of your neck but his fingers twitched. Itching to do it again. He slammed his hand right by the side of your head as he kept a tight grip on your hip. His thrusts getting shaky and erratic.“Fuck, bunny I’m about to cum-“ he could feel the warm of your heat. Feeling the friction from the condom against his sensitive tip. Feeling it roll and shift, chewing on his bottom lip as you whimpered and whined.

“That’s it, Bunny, You gonna let Daddy breed you? Fuck you full of my cum, I bet you want that-“ he was cut off by you clenching around him. Groaning as he shuddered. “Ooh…Well your body definitely likes the idea.” He gleefully chuckled. Shaking his head as he kept fucking you. Chasing that high of his impending release.

You moaned louder, your hand slightly uncovered from your mouth to try and let you breathe and William sneered. Thrusting into your tight cunt brutally. “Shut up! Are that much of a slut you want the whole building to hear?” he speaks through gritted teeth, you immediately let out a whine, shaking your head. Your words are shaky as you quickly deny being a slut but he just licked his teeth. Tilting his head.

“Oh really? You're not? Why do you think you’re in this position then, huh?” He just grunts as he continues thrusting. “you’re a slutty bunny, just letting your boss undress you- letting him eat your pussy-” William groans, his sentences getting chopped as he panted. Bullying his cock into you over and over. “Letting him fuck you, this what you wanted, you let this happen – you’re a slut.” His words made you whimper, the truth stung but your mind was so foggy, lost in the haze of your pleasure, you could barely think. Just trapped being a squirming mess as he fucks you.

“Don’t whine, don’t act like it’s not true.” William scolded, sliding his hand just on your lower stomach, pressing down where his cock is inside you. “That’s my cock deep inside you, gonna deny that too?”

You shake your head. “No daddy-“ your response is immediately reward with him patting your hot cheek abit roughly as he nodded. “That’s right, can’t deny it – the sound of your wet pussy squelching and wetting my cock is more than enough evidence, isn’t it?"

“Yes daddy.” Your words came out slurred, nodding as your lips kept parting as you drooled. Eyes fluttering as you squirm and arch as your second orgasm is forced out of you as you squeal. Your feet digging right into his ass as overstimulation shocked you. Hiccupping as your poor pussy fluttered around him, each stroke of his cock against your walls made your veins spark.

That was all he needed, cursing under his sharp breath as he squirted thick ropes. Just registering how he painted your inner walls. His glues just catching the sight of his cum sticking to him and smearing on the lips of your pussy. A spark of satisfaction grew in him but also annoyance. Making sure to fuck his cum more into you as he tore his eyes away, you were too blissed out to even realize. Overstimulation already making your brain a mess. Shaking as you felt warmth flood up to your stomach.

He slowly eased out, looking down once again. “Oops-“ he says almost lazily, too riddled with euphoric high to pretend he cared. Looking at the torn condom, ripped and stretched at the thick head of his dick. His cum stitching to your cunt with a thick string. Your juices absolutely soaked him, making the rubber shine under the lights of his office. Panting as he pushes back his messy hair. “Well, this is one of those things you risk when you’re a slut, isn’t it? Accidents happen.” He tuts, having enough sense to fight off the smirk wanting to raise on his lips.

You see the broken condom and your stomach twists. For a moment you believe your heart stops as you watch him, tug off the broken condom as he throws it into the bin. Letting out a pleased hum as he grasps his dick, smearing his cum and your juices on your thigh to clean himself up. Raising his hand to suck on his finger and groans; enjoying the taste of you once again. Tugging his pants back up, he pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and pulls out some crumbled cash. “Here, bunny, I should take responsibility.”

With a chuckle William puts the cash in your trembling hand, leaning down to your cheek to give it a few doting kisses. Stroking your hip as he did. You whined when he pulled away, you were completely and utterly fucked. Your hand clenching around the dollar notes as you stare up at him. Your brain was utterly turned into putty. He grabbed your underwear from the floor, wiping his cum from your sloppy cunt but he didn’t return them. Putting your underwear inside his desk drawer, with a smile.

“Let’s get you presentable, I’ll send you home early, ain’t that a win?” He teased, giving your cheek another kiss before he grabs your clothes from the floor. Helping you redress and steadied you back on your feet.

“I’m hoping this won’t be our last time, bunny, you were perfect.” He reassures, squeezing your hands as he nuzzles his nose against yours. You blinked as you nodded, heart racing as you leaned against him. On your tiptoes to reach his height with a small smile. “Really?” You ask, voice shaky and quite. William nodding as he strokes your knuckles, giving your forehead a kiss.

“Go on, Bun, hop along!” He smacks your ass as he guides you out of his office. You stumbled out and tried to make yourself more presentable as you smoothed out your uniform and fixed a few buttons. You could hear your blood rushing through your ears as you went out of the pizzeria in a daze. Your brain is unable to stop the spinning wheel of his heavy breaths. His thrusts that left you still aching. Clutching the dollars tighter as you knew where you’d be going before heading home.

#arcadejohn1279 #fnaf #fnaf movie #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton x you #matthew lilard #william afton fnaf #matthew lillard #matthew lillard!william afton x reader #Matthew lillard!William afton #five nights at freddy's #fnaf nsft #fnaf smut #william afton smut #bunny nsft

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 7 months

Note

Hello are you still doing the SAGAU for reader gets mad and blowing up at people for certain characters? If you are can you do traveler or Lumine if you don’t want to do a general head cannon and fischl still? I’m so angry about how many NPC world quests that now seem like a pattern of traveler helps and then gets backstabbed and left to die and just really think those NPC need to under stand the gravity and anger of the players.

Hello, @celestialsiren! Yes, supposedly, I am still doing this series lol—I don't see why I should end it, seeing as there's always new characters that people request for. Ofc I'll do the Traveler!

Click Me For Part 1!

Click Me For Part 2!

Click Me For Part 3!

Reader Defending the Traveler! (Also No Vice Versa)

(Disclaimers: This May be OOC, And This Post Will Mainly be Using Lumine as "The Traveler." However, This Post Still Can Be Read as GN!Traveler or Aether.)

Lumine

To be frankly honest, I think you (the Reader) would feel pretty connected to Lumine. She's understanding, she's calm, and most importantly, she gets what it's like not to be from Teyvat. She's passed the celestial atlas to venture the world that is Teyvat, only to be prevented by the Unknown God.

Safe to say, you both were like two peas in a pod. And you were willing to travel with her and find her brother. Lumine gets you a lot, and you refuse any harm coming her way.

That includes verbal complaints. Like, honestly—Lumine's done so much for Teyvat for an outlander, and this is how they treat her?! You weren't having it.

So you planted your foot down, and boy, was your glare menacing. Your words were harsher than the blizzards of Dragonspine, and your glare was as menacing as the Dead Skeleton of Orobashi in Watatsumi Island.

Anyone who you deemed as enemy—in this situation, these good-for-nothing, took-for-granted gossipers—was paling at the seems of the Almighty Creator stomping their egos down. And, not gonna lie, Lumine kinda likes watching some of them. Some of the insults you used were actually used in other worlds—something only Lumine would know, but others didn't. It was kind of hilarious.

Alas, she can't have you go around and go all out all the time. Someone needs to make sure that the Creator doesn't try to decimate random folks, even if they are pretty infuriating.

"Your Grace." Lumine puts her hand on your shoulder. "Let's hurry up and finish this commission. We still need to get those rewards." You huff, but you let the insulters go, without a threatening note.

Yeah...she was not expecting to be an occurrence with so many other characters, but hey! Lumine's not gonna stop you :)

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: And we're done! Sorry if it's really low quality lol—I am so tired as I'm writing this :') I do hope you guys enjoyed it, though! Don't feel discouraged to keep sending me requests!

At this rate requests are probably the only thing that's keeping my blog alive. My blog is on constant life support LOL

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #sagau x reader #genshin self aware #sagau #sagau genshin #yandere sagau #sagau brainrot #genshin cult au #sagau cult au #sagau lumine #sagau aether #sagau traveler

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zepskies · 3 months

Text

Love, By Any Other Name

Pairing: Castiel x F. Reader

Summary: You want him. Castiel can’t help but crave you. Dean sees both of you and wishes you’d stop being idiots.

AN: This is my first ever commission! Written for @girlsforpjm, who requested "mutual pining" with Castiel. Here you go, lovely! I sincerely hope you enjoy it. 💜

**Also, this is set during season 12.

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 4,500

Tags/Warnings: Mutual pining, angst, blood and injury, (contains events from 12.12), fluff, some spice, implied smut.

“Achooo!!”

Sam grimaces while he watches you wipe your nose against your bare wrist. You shake your head and frown at the dusty tomes piled high beside you. You and Sam have been organizing the library for two hours now.

“That’s it, I can’t do this anymore,” you lament. “I need a break. My sinuses need a break.”

Sam’s lips twitch at a smile. “It’s okay. I got the rest of these.”

You aim a lazy salute at your friend and continue to sniffle as you leave the library. You circle this labyrinth of a bunker for a while, but you can’t seem to find the trench coat-wearing angel that’s supposed to live here too.

You end up in the garage, where Dean is tuning up his Baby. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and he’s got a grease stain across his cheek.

“Hey, you seen Cas?” you ask.

Dean barely perks up from under Baby’s hood to answer you. “He went out this morning. Haven’t seen him since.”

You pout at that, leaning against the side of the car near where Dean is tinkering.

“Is it too much to ask for him to leave a note or something?” you mutter.

Dean finally glances over at you. His lips edge at a smirk.

“What, miss your little boyfriend?” he teases.

The insinuation manages to take you by surprise. Your face starts to warm in embarrassment, but you cover it with a scoff.

“You should know. He was your boyfriend first,” you volley back. Dean’s expression flattens in annoyance.

“Don’t you have anything better to do right now?” he snarks.

“Nope,” you reply, popping the “P.” But you have mercy on him.

Instead of pestering him further, you just tip over the screwdriver he had balanced on the car’s frame. He makes a sound of protest as it falls somewhere between the gears inside his precious car.

He barks your name, and his angry voice echoes on the walls to magnify his frustration, but you’re already hastening back into the hall and down to the kitchen, trying to stifle your laughter.

You’ve slipped into the kitchen to escape. Yet that’s where you find the bunker’s resident angel, washing his hands of what looks like breadcrumbs in the sink.

“Hey,” you greet him jovially. He treats you with a small smile. “Where were you?”

“Oh, nowhere really. Just stepped out for a bit,” he replies. You get the sense that he’s hiding something. You smile and step closer to him, leaning a hand on the counter.

“Oh, yeah? Where?” you ask. Your eyes gleam with amusement. “Another ‘mission on high?’”

He sends you a droll look. “No.”

You tug on his sleeve. “Come on. Tell me.”

He smiles in return, and he gives you his own version of teasing.

“Childishness doesn’t become you,” he says.

“I’m just curious. You’ve been gone all day,” you reply, tilting your head. Your stare is unyielding, and familiar; Cas knows how stubborn you can be when you want something—especially information. Sometimes he finds it annoying, but in moments like these, it’s tempered by your playful, endearing smile.

“I was on a walk,” he finally admits.

You raise your brows. “A walk? Cas, it’s winter. Like 20 degrees outside.”

“I enjoy nature,” he shrugs. “The cold doesn’t bother me much anyway.”

…Well, he is an angel. You suppose it makes sense that he doesn’t feel the frigid weather like a human would. Your brow quirks with another curious thought.

“So you were washing your hands because…?” you ask.

Castiel’s face becomes a little more bashful. “I was feeding the birds some bread.”

At that, your smile grows. Here he is: Castiel, warrior angel of the Lord, Feeder of Pigeons.

“Well, if you ever want a walking companion, I’d be happy to join you,” you offer.

Castiel gives you a certain look, like he doesn’t quite believe you.

Your lips purse. “What?”

He sinks his hands into his pockets as he leans his slightly hunched form back on his heels.

“Nothing,” he claims. “It’s only, I seem to remember you forcing Dean to kill a spider in your room. You claimed, and I quote, bastard things that crawl don’t belong indoors.”

You cross your arms and stare back at him narrowly, even though you try to stifle a smile.

“What’s your point? Everyone’s afraid of spiders,” you reason.

He raises a brow. “You also claim to have a vendetta against birds.”

“Pigeons, Castiel. They’re rats with wings.” Even Dean would agree with you on that one.

Castiel gives you a dubious look, however.

“Forgive me if I’m skeptical of your supposed love of nature,” he says drolly.

You want to argue more, but Sam enters the room with Dean on his heels. Both men seem to sense they’ve interrupted something. You clear your throat and turn to them.

“What’s up?” you ask, more nonchalant than you feel whenever you’re near the angel beside you. Castiel glances at you, before he too silently addresses Sam and Dean.

“Uh, we’ve caught a case,” Sam says. “It’s not far. Three dead, all with their hearts, and most of their internal organs ripped out.”

“Ech,” you reply with a grimace. “Sounds kind of like a ghoul. Maybe a werewolf on steroids?”

“Well, they were fresh kills, and it’s a full moon. So more than likely we’re looking at werewolves,” he replies.

You smile thinly. “Great.”

You hate werewolves.

Correction: you really hate werewolves.

The thought hits you yet again as you lay on the floor of a dusty old hunting cabin.

The irony.

Dean hefts you in his arms, after slicing his silver blade through the heart of the yellow-eyed bastard that tore you open with his claws.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” you ask, hating how your voice trembles. Dean doesn’t answer you at first. He holds his hand to the oozing gash in your side.

“Nah, you’ll be okay. Just hang in there,” he says. Blood quickly covers his palm. He curses inside his mind.

“Cas!” he calls out roughly.

The angel had been fighting in the other the room with Sam, but after he burns out the eyes of the last werewolf and its body falls to the ground, he hears the undercurrent of alarm in Dean’s shouting. With Sam on his heels, he returns to the living room to find you and Dean.

Castiel’s steps halt in the doorway when he sees you. His face slackens for a moment, but then he hardens. He moves forward swiftly.

“Move,” he says to Dean in order to come to your side. Dean’s eyes widen, but he does as he’s told after laying you down to the floor.

Castiel stares down at your face, offering you comfort with his eyes. You stare up at him in pain, but also with hope, and trust. You’re able to curl your fingers around the edge of his trench coat.

Then he presses his hand to your cheek. He closes his eyes in concentration while he heals you.

Though he expels more power than he should to heal you completely. He knows it when his body sways a little after he’s done. Dean grabs his shoulder to keep him steady.

“You good?” Dean asks.

Castiel nods; he’s more focused on the way you’re catching your breath. You marvel at how your wounds, your pain, and even your blood is gone—completely washed away. He helps you sit up with an arm wrapping around your shoulders. Then he gathers you tight against him, so he can help you stand as well. He wavers again on his feet, just a little, but you’re too perceptive not to catch it. You realize he did too much to save you.

You still chide at him with a frown. “You didn’t have to use up so much of your energy.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Think nothing of it.”

Those are useless words, but you don’t bother arguing with him anymore. You just sigh and hold onto his strong arms while regaining your balance. You know for a fact that you’re blushing when you glance up at him.

Biting your lip, you soon turn away to grab the knife you’d dropped in the fight.

Without you or Cas noticing, Sam and Dean share a knowing glance. It’s subtle, in the way the brothers have perfected. Dean barely curbs a smile as he leads the way back to the car.

You settle next to Cas in the backseat and try not to glance at him too often. You don’t know that he’s trying not to do the same to you.

Dean glances back at you two in the rearview mirror. He shakes his head.

Idiots.

Mary Winchester has been a welcome return to the family…when she’s here. Ever since Amara brought her back, she’s been distant with her sons. You don’t understand it all that well, but it’s not your place to say anything, you don’t think.

You do think Mary is a badass hunter. You just don’t know her that well.

About a week after the werewolf hunt, Mary drops in with Wally, a fellow hunter in need of assistance with a demon problem. You, Sam, Dean, and Castiel are all game. While you haven’t had to deal with demons too much in the past, you know that they’re…something of a specialty for the Winchesters.

But of course, it quickly goes to shit.

The demon lives alone, in some shack by a river where he likes to fish. The group of you wait until he’s stepped out of the house before you go inside and case the place, looking for a good spot to spray a Devil’s Trap or two and try to trap him.

When the demon returns, he’s far stronger than any of you anticipated. The Devil’s Trap breaks with little effort (the demon’s just laughing). Then he flashes yellow eyes. You and Castiel share a look of widening shock. Mary takes a preemptive step back.

And when the kitchen door is about to close on the three of you, the angel pushes you into the next room before you can turn and fight. Sam helps you back onto your feet, though you stare at the door in horror. He and Dean try to break the door down, but it’s no use. It’s supernaturally sealed.

You felt useless standing there. You wrack your brain for a solution, and you glance out one of the windows. Maybe there’s another way into the kitchen!

“Guys! What if we go around?” you suggest.

With that idea taking root in each of you, Sam and Dean follow you outside. Before you guys can even make it around the house, Wally flags you down.

“We’ve got incoming!” he says. And you realize what he means. A group of black-eyed demons are bounding toward the house.

Aw, shit. You’re grateful to have Sam and Dean beside you, because the demons nearly overtake all of you. You manage to hold your own, along with the brothers. Wally isn’t so fortunate. His body hits the floor after his own blade sinks into his chest.

A pit begins to form in your stomach as you scramble toward the Impala. The plan is to catch up with Mary; thanks to Cas, she’d been able to flee the demon strong enough to snap a Devil’s Trap like a cheap trick. But she’d then taken Cas with her to safety.

Now, Dean drives the Impala down the road at breakneck speed.

“Are you okay?” Sam asks his mother through the phone. The car is silent enough for you to hear Mary’s reply.

“…No.”

When you step into the barn, the first thing you have to focus on is Cas covered in his own blood. He’s been stabbed by one of the demon’s strange and powerful weapons, and he lies on an old, dingy couch. You hurry to Cas’s side and take in, your face filled with horror, though you try and fail to mask it.

You reach out a hand, but you hesitate to touch him. Suffering is written across his face. He tries to stifle sounds of pain out of habit.

Tears are fresh in your eyes as you look down at him in dismay. You chance laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Can you heal yourself?” you ask.

“No,” he answers eventually. “I think the demon’s spear was poisoned. I think I’m…”

No, your lower lip trembles as you shake your head.

“No,” you repeat aloud. “You just need time.”

You turn to Dean, who’s approached from behind you. But you quickly turn back to Cas, as if you’ll miss out on precious few moments. Castiel’s furrowed gaze tells you he’d rather not have you see him like this, but you don’t care. There’s no way you’re leaving his side.

The weapon that was able to do this to him was the Lance of Michael, you all discover, when Crowley suddenly appears. He also informs you all that this is no ordinary demon. It’s Ramiel, Prince of Hell. You don’t give a shit about the specifics of how Crowley is wrapped up in this.

All you care about is if there’s a cure to Cas’s wounds. Crowley’s only words of wisdom are to leave the angel behind and run as fast as you can.

He disappears before you can spit at him.

“Cas, how bad is it?” Dean asks, after the King of Hell predictably makes a run for it.

Castiel opened up his shirt collar to reveal a spiderweb of black crackling across his clammy skin, slowly breaking down his vessel.

“Crowley’s right. You should go.”

Your hand tightens on his shoulder. “Cas—”

“No, listen to me,” he says, staring into your eyes. He continues with difficulty. “Look…thank you. Thank you. Knowing you all, it’s been the best part of my life. The things we’ve shared together, they have changed me… You’re my family, and I love you.”

His gaze had fallen on you, making your breath hitch. But his dark blue eyes travel to Sam and Dean next, and even Mary.

“I love all of you.” The angel is the closest to tears and heartbreak that you’ve ever seen him. He struggles to hold himself together, in more ways than one. “Just, please, please don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run, and save yourselves, and I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes the sentence. Tears pour down your cheeks in silent streams, but you still hold him down when he tries to force his body to sit up. He doesn’t have the strength to resist you encouraging him to lie back down.

Dean voices what you’re all thinking.

No. None of you would cut and run and leave him to die, no matter what Cas says.

“Like you said, we’re family. And we don’t leave family behind.”

Ramiel comes for all of you, specifically for his stolen weapon. Killing the rest of you would just be an added bonus.

But while the four of you manage to pin down the demon with holy fire and a good fight, it’s Sam who manages to stab the Prince of Hell with Michael’s Lance, killing him in flash of brilliant light and rendering his body to ash.

Of course, that’s when Crowley arrives once again, late holding his proverbial Starbucks. In this case, what would’ve been a mocha frappe is actually the Lance—and Crowley breaks it in half. It somehow reverses the curse of the blade, and therefore frees Castiel.

He’s able to heal himself back to a full recovery.

But also, rather predictably, Crowley disappears again before you all can recover yourselves.

Sam and Dean help the angel back onto his feet. His clothes are still covered in blood, but his skin is clear and no longer clammy, his eyes no longer bloodshot. He’s shocked to still be alive, and you can barely contain yourself. Tears stream down your face as you surprise him with a hug.

Cas releases an oof, his body wavering just slightly before he plants his feet and wraps his arms around you. His hold tightens around your smaller frame, and he chances resting his chin on the top of your head.

“So…you’re good?” Mary asks incredulously.

Castiel raises his gaze to answer her. “I guess I am.”

You’re quiet for the rest of the drive home. Mary had taken her own car for the hunt, so it leaves you once again in the backseat with Castiel.

He finds your silence perturbing, though he doesn’t have the courage to ask you what’s wrong. Despite his full recovery, you still seem upset somehow.

Part of him wants to reach out to you…but he stops himself. He also reminds himself not to stare at you. Instead, he turns his head back out the window. You felt his gaze on your profile, but you resolve to keep yours stubbornly out of your own window.

The only one who notices the exchange, yet again through the rearview mirror, is Dean. His lips firm into a thoughtful frown.

Home, sweet home, you think wryly when you enter the bunker.

You give into the urge to beeline straight for your room without even turning your head.

Sam and Mary follow suit, which leaves Castiel hesitating in the hall. Dean takes pity on him and claps his shoulder.

“You okay, man?” he asks. Cas is staring after you like a man who’s lost his way.

“She’s…upset,” he replies, both confused and bothered by that fact.

Dean’s lips twitch humorlessly. “Yeah, well, you almost died.”

“Yes,” Cas gives a wry nod. “But she seems upset at me.”

Dean has to smile for real. It’s plain as day what’s on his friend’s mind, and why. Just like it’s obvious as hell (at least to him) why you’re probably “upset.” As always, Dean takes up the role of wingman.

“Why don’t you just go talk to her then?” he suggests.

Castiel hesitates. He’s not sure if he’d be intruding on you. The emotions of human women are foreign to him. They always have been, even when he was human, not so long ago. But he trusts Dean’s advice on these things.

So, he eventually nods. He means to follow you, but Dean stops him for a moment with a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe after you, uh, wash your clothes. Take a shower. Maybe shave a little,” he says, brushing his fingers over his own chin. “But uh, keep a little scruff. Some chicks dig that.”

“Shave my facial hair, but…keep my facial hair?” Cas tries to clarify.

Dean blinks at his friend. Christ.

“Okay, look, just clean yourself up,” he says. “You’ll be fine.”

With one last clap on the back, Dean disappears down the hall to his room. It leaves Castiel feeling somewhat unbalanced, but he treks the other way.

Normally he would restore his clothes with his powers, but he’d used up his reserves just to heal himself. There was a time when his connection to heaven was enough to do more than heal his own injuries. Now, however, both he and heaven itself are in a lesser state.

Shaking his head, he goes down to the laundry room. He still remembers how to wash his own clothing.

He unintentionally finds you there in the laundry room. You’ve peeled away your jacket that had been stained with his blood, and you’re tossing it into the machine. It leaves you in a thin shirt and jeans.

Castiel finds himself admiring your form; the familiar curve of your face, the shade of your hair, the outline of your bra through your shirt (which he tries not to notice), and the other curves that he has to often felt guilty for tracing with his eyes…and imagining with his hands.

You look up when he enters the room.

He knocks himself out of his thoughts and freezes, a bit uncertain.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he offers.

You just shake your head. “It’s okay.”

Your eyes roam over him then, from head to toe. It makes his face feel a bit warm.

“You want me to throw that coat in with mine?” you ask, pointing over to him. Cas examines his bloody trench coat.

“I’m not sure there’s any saving it, but we can try,” he says. He peels off the coat and allows you to throw it into the watching machine along with your bloody clothing.

“Your shirt’s white, so you should wash that separately,” you advise.

“I know,” he says, with a faint smile. “I, uh, I remember.”

You begin to regain some of your normal self, glancing at him with more warmth in your eyes.

“Do you ever miss being human?” you ask. Cas draws closer to you. He rests a hand near yours, where you lean on the dryer.

“There were some enjoyable aspects. Food, in particular,” he admits. “Now if I try to take a bite of a sandwich, it’s just…molecules, really.”

You wince in sympathy. “God, I don’t know how I could go through life without being able to enjoy another Snickers bar.”

He nods in agreement. He remembers chocolate well.

“But it wasn’t just the taste. It was the feeling of satiety. Sometimes, being uncomfortably full was quite satisfying,” he says. That makes you smile.

But it soon drops when you take in the disgusting state of his shirt. Unbidden, it reminds you of every horrific thing that happened tonight. You really can’t bear it.

“Okay, give me that,” you gesture at the shirt.

You start to unbutton it before he’s really ready for you, but he tries to get over his embarrassment by removing his tie. Meanwhile, you undo the buttons of his shirt while trying not to think too hard about what you’re really doing as you start to see flashes of his skin, from chest to sternum.

He takes a peek at your face.

“Are you angry?” he asks.

Your brows are furrowed, but this time more in confusion when you look up at him.

“No. Why?”

Cas’s brows furrow. “It feels like you’re angry…at me.”

The hasty motions of your hands calm at that. You consider him with a frown. Maybe you are a little upset at him. It’s not really fair, you know, but it’s how you feel. You blow out a sigh.

“I just… After everything we’ve been through, everything you’ve done for us, how could you think for one second that we would leave you there alone? Alone to die?” you ask. It renders Castiel a bit stunned into silence.

Your grip tightens on the now open edges of his shirt.

“Look, that situation was bad enough. But if you ever try to push me away like that again…”

You’re unable to finish that thought. You become waylaid by your own tears as emotion clogs your throat and threatens to choke you.

Castiel raises a hand to touch your face, tentatively at first, then more comforting. He brushes his thumb across your cheek, catching the tears there.

“I wasn’t trying to push you away,” he confesses. “I was trying to save you…because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, even as I lay dying.”

You hold onto his hand. Biting your lower lip, you find enough courage to meet his eyes. They’ve lowered to your lips, you realize, though maybe Cas doesn’t. He seems a bit surprised when you lean up towards him.

You go more slowly. Your hand falls on his warm chest. For God’s sake, do something, you tell yourself.

You don’t know if he can pick up on your thoughts as well with your bodies touching this close, but he seems to have an internal battle of his own. You each make a decision at the same time.

It has you leaning up the rest of the way, and Castiel bending down to meet your kiss.

He gathers you closer; one hand finds its way into your tangled hair, while the other grasps your hip and brings you flush against him. Your hands move up his chest and wind around his neck. He holds you tightly against him as his lips claim yours, over and over with increasing urgency.

He turns you in his arms and hefts you up onto the dryer machine. There he gets even more leverage to kiss you the way he has secretly imagined, to touch you the way he’s too often craved, with his hands warming up and down your thighs.

You utter a moan of longing as you hold his face. You like the scrape of his stubble against your palms. You can almost imagine that delightful tingling against otherplaces down your body. Places you’d like him to explore when you have more privacy…

Or maybe here is privacy enough.

You alternatively tangle and tug your fingers through his hair. And it’s his turn to moan when you take his lower lip between your teeth, scraping just hard enough to be both painful and delightful.

He squeezes your thighs in retaliation. It prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer. Your dirty boots cross behind his back.

But soon, his touch gentles, more tender than demanding as he slows the kiss. His lips veer from yours and burn a path across your jawline, down the smooth column of your neck.

It allows you to catch your breath, but the feeling of his gentle lips and rough cheek just turns you on even more. You card your fingers through his hair and close your eyes.

“Cas,” you breathe in content.

He hesitates, with his lips on your neck. “Yes?”

You blink for a moment, but then you have to giggle. You twine your arms around his neck and hold him close.

“Nothing,” you reply. Your smile says it all though. Cas sees it when he pulls away a bit, turning his gaze back to you. He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand.

“I didn’t think feelings such as this…desires like this, would affect me after I became an angel again.”

Your smile brightens, even as you blush. “Does that make me special?”

“Yes,” he replies, with a soft smile. “But for many more, and far better reasons than that.”

Your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears. You bite the edge of your lower lip, but Cas’s thumb swiping across encourages you to release it.

“When you said that you loved me,” you say, a little shakily, “did you just mean…in the family sense?”

Castiel meets your eyes, and there he finds his courage.

“Yes,” he says. “And no.”

With another one of those smiles he’s come to love, you bring him back in for a kiss. All too soon, it becomes hungrier, rougher, born of passion and secret desires finally spilling free.

“Wait,” you pant against his lips, taking his hands in yours. “Come with me.”

Anywhere, his heart says.

But after you jump down from the dryer, you tug him by the hand out of the laundry room. After a quick scan of the hallway, you give him a playful little smile and lead him down to your room.

Castiel can’t help but smile in return. He follows your lead in more ways than one when the door to your bedroom shuts behind you both.

You help him shrug off his tattered shirt, and he helps you out of yours next, followed swiftly by the belt buckle on his slacks.

In that moment, and many moments after, you’re grateful for door locks. You just hope the Winchesters aren’t dumb enough to interrupt what you have planned next for your angel…

Because it might just take all night.

AN: I haven't written for Castiel in a long time, but I had fun with this. 🥰 I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think. 😘

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