The Worst Wingman - Dust and A Goddess

The Incubus

(Connie x Reader) - Word Count: 3.8k

Creature: a male demon believed to have sexual intercourse with (sleeping) women.

Warnings: Cherry Picking, Corruption Kink, Unprotected Sex, Wet Dream

Quick Summary: when your parents aren’t home, you invite your best friend over for a movie night.

Extra Notes: Third day of Whore - O - Ween and only four more to go until Halloween!

Connie understood girls like you. He understood how desperately you pushed this good girl facade in hopes of never being read clearly. He understood how you helplessly clung to the bottom of your skirt not wanting the bareness of your thighs to give away the obvious truth. He understood how you kept your voice high and your giggles light to hide the real you. Connie understood you because he’s met plenty of different versions of you - what can he say, acting this way was common for virgins.

And Connie knew virgins better than he knew anything else. He’s been living on this Earth for centuries. He’s watched empires rise and fall, political role models be overthrown, and wars captivate an entire nation and then be ended with a big bang. He knew the darkest secrets of important bloodlines, he knew war strategies to bring down any country, and he knew the fads and trends by year - but he knew virgins the best.

That’s why you were just so easy to trick, you unintentionally played right into his hand. When he said jump, you took a leap. When he said let’s hang out sometime, you immediately made plans and begged him to go through with them. When he said how about I come over tonight, you thanked every god that could hear you that your parents wouldn’t be home tonight and didn’t have to know that you were having a guy over.

It’s not like anything was going to happen anyways, you were sure of it. Connie was much too sweet to try anything with you. He always held your books on your way to class if your arms got too tired. He always kept snacks in his backpack and would sneak them into your hands at the back of the classroom. He always made you smile when you were sad and held you if you wanted to cry. Connie was just too sweet to do anything immoral.

But that didn’t stop you from getting ready like he may. You chose your most scandalous panties, the pair you only bought on a dare - a pair of black panties that was made with sheer fabric to allow viewers to see through to what was underneath. You doused yourself in perfume, a sweet scent that had allured men to you in the past. You felt guilty acting like something was going to happen with Connie, and that guilt only made you want it more.

You nearly fell down the stairs as you ran to the front door when the doorbell rang. You stumbled on the second to last step and ran into the door sideways in a fit of adrenaline. You quickly straightened up and fixed your messed up hair before opening the door for your guest.

“Hello,” You said to Connie who stood on your front porch, “You brought-?”

“Cookies,” Connie said with a smile as he thrusted them towards you, “You said you like chocolate chip, right?”

“Yes, yes - I do, thank you!” You grabbed the container of cookies from Connie’s hands, your fingertips gently caressing over the rough skin of his fingers. You tried to hide your excitement from the touch, keeping your gasp to a whisper and begging your heart to stop beating so quickly.

Connie caught the gasp despite your desire to hold it back. All it took was one touch - just one tap of fingers to fingers - and he had you hypnotized. You could hardly breathe around your quickly beating heart and your lungs felt like they were filling with cement. Despite the obstacles, you still managed to mumble something out to Connie.

“Thanks,” You said quickly under your breath as you led him into the kitchen just two rooms away.

“Yeah.” Connie followed behind you, looking around the house as he walked through the hallway. “I don’t normally bake, but I thought you’d like some cookies - so, I just looked up a recipe and started making them. They might not be good, but I tried really hard and I put a lot of work into them and I think I made a really good dough to chocolate chip ratio-”

“Connie,” You said harshly to grab his wandering attention as you turned around to him in the entrance of the kitchen, “They’re perfect, and I’m sure they have a perfect dough to chocolate chip ratio.”

Connie fought his smile, but it still spread across his cheeks, “Thank you.”

It always amazed Connie just how quickly you could gain your own confidence if somebody else’s confidence was wavering. You could erase all shyness from your persona - maybe even become a different person entirely - if it meant you could help somebody else. It was his favorite thing about you, he could feign a lack of confidence all day long if it meant you’d make him feel better afterwards.

Your eyes lingered on Connie’s face for a moment too long. You watched as his hazel eyes delicately looked you over. His glance started on your face, taking in the sight of your own eyes before moving down to your mouth and lastly to your body. That last movement of his eyes was what caused you to kill the contact - you looked away quickly, trying to hide the embarrassment that now pumped through your veins.

“So,” You said as you placed the cookies onto the kitchen counter, “Do you want to watch a movie or we could-?”

“Yes,” Connie answered much too quickly, “If you want to, of course.”

You were taken aback by Connie’s enthusiasm. Why did he seem like he wanted to watch a movie so badly? Was watching a movie some kind of innuendo that you didn’t understand? You wished you knew more about the way Connie thought, or even boys in general - you were sure that kind of information could save you from embarrassing moments you were currently living through.

“Yeah,” You said warily, squinting your eyes at Connie, “I want to.”

Connie smiled wide, “Good, are we staying in the living room - I’m assuming?”

Connie knew virgins better than he knew anything else. He knew virgins craved to be touched more than anybody who had already been touched. He knew virgins acted sweet and innocent to hide their true intentions. And, he knew virgins loved to invite people they were interested over only when their families weren’t home to interrupt things - especially if they didn’t want to be virgins anymore.

He knew from the second he walked onto the property that you were the only one here at the moment. He noticed there was no other car parked in the driveway - apart from your own car and his. He noticed the quiet in the house when he first stepped in, not even hearing a cat or dog run around upstairs. And, he noticed just how frantically you looked around, as if you were afraid one of your family members could come home at any second, and see what you were trying to do with this boy by inviting him over to an empty house.

He knew nobody else in the house equals staying in the living room - it always equals staying in the living room. Connie assumed it’s because there’s something more open about the living room. The living room has accessible windows, it has open entryways, it has people watching from the tv screen. To Connie, people who are willing to fuck in the living room are willing to fuck practically anywhere.

“Yeah,” You said slowly, “We can stay in the living room.”

Perfect. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. Now, he knows for a fact that your family was absent from the house. And now, he knows for a fact that his long awaited plan was finally going to happen. He had waited for months, pretending to be some timid, sweet boy with no ulterior motives - when in reality, he was just waiting for the moment you’d give yourself to him.

That’s just what he did. He’s done it for centuries with pretty little virgins like you. Simply because he enjoyed virgins the most, it’s why he learned so much about them. It’s why he carried their books, why he walked them to class, and brought them homemade gooey little cookies - all to get into their pants.

It was honestly a game at this point: how many days will have to go by until the virgin’s legs are strung across your neck? And, the second game that comes right after the first one’s over is just as fun: how many hours until you’re completely out of her life and as far away as possible?

“Great, race you there.” Before you had a moment to process his request, he was already around the corner and out of sight.

“Connie,” You said with a hint of curiosity in your tone.

“It was a race,” Connie called from the other room as you slowly made your way into the living room, “And, you majorly lost.”

You stood in the doorway of the living room. Connie made himself comfortable on the couch by the wall, spreading his legs out over the remaining two cushions. His body was taking up the whole couch which left the second couch beside you free.

“Well,” You said, “You didn’t give me a warning - you’re supposed to say 3, 2, 1, GO! That’s just good sportsmanship, Connie.”

God, he loved the way you said his name and just how often you did it.

Connie watched you across the room. He watched you intently as you stood there with your hip jutting out. And, he even watched as you walked towards the couch he wasn’t completely colonizing. You walked around the sofa to your left, about to sit down when Connie quickly yelled for you.

“No!” Connie sat up on the couch, reaching towards you. “Don’t sit the whole way over there, sit over here with me!”

You raised your eyebrows at him, “Why does it matter?”

“I just,” Connie said as he glanced awkwardly around the room, “I just know I’ll miss you too much if you sit over there.”

His sentence hit you in a very good yet very bad way. You supposed it was good to know your face could heat up from one comment and that your heart could pound in your chest that quickly - and it even amazed you that he couldn’t hear it from across the room. And, you knew it was bad to feel this way for a close friend of yours and it was even worse to jump at the opportunity to sit on a couch beside him inside of an empty house.

To prevent any argument, you walked over to Connie’s couch to join him. He moved his legs for you, slowly bringing his knees to his chest before stretching his legs out again once you had sat down beside him. Connie’s legs were laying on your lap, his calves trapping you to the couch cushion below - you didn’t really hate the extra weight his body gave to your body, and in a strange way, you kind of liked it.

Connie excitedly picked the movie you both were going to watch for the night - and honestly, his choice surprised you. You assumed maybe he’d decide on a horror movie to frighten you enough to jump right into his arms and him to take that opportunity to jump right into your pants. And, you assumed maybe he’d decide on a movie with a lot of sex scenes as a poor attempt to get you in the mood. But instead, sweet and reliable Connie chose a romantic comedy.

You expected Connie to be the kind of guy to call those types of movies “chick flicks” and write them off completely. And, part of you wasn’t sure if he chose the movie because he wanted to watch it or because he thought you would want to. But, either way, you enjoyed the movie and so did Connie.

As the movie was coming to an end, you felt yourself growing tired. Both from the predictable plotline and the moon rising ever so steadily outside of the windows around you. You let your eyes gently close, and in an attempt not to fall onto Connie, he offered himself to you - opening the space beside him for you to join. And you - either the part of you who was tired and desperate to fall asleep or the part of you that was just desperate for him - took the spot almost immediately after the offer was in the air.

You cuddled up close to him, feeling his warm arms wrap around your body and his hot breath decorate the back of your neck. You fell asleep to the rhythm of his chest rising and falling against your back. It was a comfortable sleep - dreamless and warm - and only a few minutes after falling into deep sleep, you were suddenly awoken by aggressive shaking by your side.

“Connie,” You mumbled hazily into the now dark living room, “Connie, wake up.”

Connie mumbled in his sleep, his body shaking vigorously in the small space between you and the back of the couch. You tried to listen to what he was saying - or, more like what he was trying to say - but you couldn’t understand a single word. You thought maybe your mind was still groggy from the sleep or maybe he was speaking an entirely different language.

“Connie,” You whispered more clearly this time, trying to wake him up, “Wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”

Or at least you were assuming he was having a nightmare.

“Wake up-”

Connie woke up suddenly, causing you to jump back from him. Connie’s hazel eyes suddenly took you in, widening at the close sight of you. And, neither of you could disagree with one fact - it was nice being this close to each other, to be close enough to see every inch of the other features and close enough to kiss.

Your head was still heavy from your own lack of sleep and having to wake him up didn’t help shake any wakefulness into you at all. You wondered why you felt so hazy despite being wide awake, it felt as if everything surrounding you was a whole realm away from you. And, the strangest part was that Connie didn’t feel fake, he was the realest thing around you.

“Hi,” Connie whispered softly into the inch between your faces, “Or, should I say good morning?”

You smiled, “No, it’s not even morning yet - it’s still dark outside.”

“Right.” Connie grinned at you. “Good night.”

You giggled breathlessly into the space - or, lack therefore of - in between you and Connie’s lips. It was strange being this close to him and not feeling even an ounce of nervousness. Your heart was beating at a normal rate and your face was at a normal temperature. Your physical reaction to his body being pressed into your side as you laid on your stomach was completely new to you, you had never been so cool before, especially around Connie.

And, focusing on Connie had become easy for you at the moment, especially with the haziness of the room around you. Focusing on his facial features; focusing on his complexly colored eyes, focusing on the light stubble that had begun to grow on his jaw and cheeks, and focusing on his full lips. It was somehow especially easy to focus on his lips, even when he began to talk.

“I see you’re staring,” Connie said with a grin, “‘See something you like, darling?”

With this new haziness you also found a new confidence.

You blinked at him, “Yes, I do.”

“Oh, really?” Connie licked his lips delicately. “What?”

“You.”

Your eyes flashed up to Connie’s eyes. In that split second before your lips were on his, you could see a spark of something in his eyes. It was an emotion you noticed a lot in his eyes, but had never had the courage to admit it to yourself. The emotion was recognition, like he was reliving something he had done many times before. And, you hated to admit to yourself that maybe Connie wasn’t a good guy, but rather exactly like every other man on this planet.

But, before you had made the decision to be scared of his experience, you allowed yourself to lean forward and press your lips to his own. You ignored that flash of emotion in his eyes, and kissed him anyway. You honestly didn’t care if Connie had some stupid ulterior motive, you could give it to him - you craved to give everything he wanted to him.

Connie’s had slipped down the side of your body as his lips continued to work against your own. His fingers danced delicately down your body, moving over your curves the way a car drives down a backroad. His fingertips started at your shoulder blade and slowly made its way over your ribs, your side, your hip and then finally over the curve of your ass.

Connie slipped his hand under the waist of your pajama pants. His hand was anything but gentle as he tugged at the fabric of your pants. He didn’t have to ask for what he wanted, you knew exactly what it was and you wanted to give it to him. You groaned against his mouth one last time before moving onto your knees to push your pajama pants over your legs and to the floor beside the couch.

Connie watched you from where he laid below you. His eyes were heavy on your body as they looked over your newly bare legs. He brought his hand up to the bottom of your shirt, whispering with a cocky smirk spread across his cheeks.

“This too,” Connie said as he tugged on the thin fabric.

You gulped before nodding and doing as he said. You pulled the shirt over your head and threw it to the floor as well. Connie sucked in a quick breath at the new sight of you, practically naked in front of him - only your panties decorating your body.

You leaned close to Connie, pressing the ghost of your lips against his. You kept your eyes open and you were glad, since that gave you the opportunity to see Connie’s absolute hunger for you. You watched how his face scrunched up and his mouth moved towards your mouth, hoping for any type of kiss - long or short, passionate or boring, anything - from you.

“Connie,” You whispered against his mouth, “Where do you want me?”

Connie leaned back from you, eyeing you questioningly before patting his lap suggestively. You raised your eyebrows for a second before hopping on top of him. You straddled his waist on the unbearably small living room couch. You can’t believe you were embarrassed earlier, just to be standing in the kitchen with him, but now you were dry humping into the couch cushions below his body.

You moved your hips against the zipper of his jeans, feeling your stomach grow queasy from the feeling. You had never had anything close to this feeling before, it was like the better part of the feeling of being embarrassed in front of a classroom of people. It was a positive version of nervousness and embarrassment and it felt so fucking good.

You desperately gripped Connie’s t-shirt as you felt your body already start to fall apart on top of him. You moaned out into the empty space around you, closing your eyes as you grinded helplessly into his lap. Connie’s hands on your hips only guided you further, helping you create circles with your body to hit every single sensitive part.

“H-hey-hey,” Connie said desperately, just seeing you in this new position was driving him insane, “Not too quick, I’m just trying to turn you on, not give you an orgasm just yet.”

You looked down at Connie, feeling a bit embarrassed by your lack of patience. You had never been this driven by sex, it was like your horniess took over your mental wheel and wouldn’t let go. And, your entire body only felt more embarrassed knowing there must be a pretty big wet spot decorating the crotch of his sweatpants.

“Sorry,” You whispered timidly to Connie.

Connie grinned, “Don’t be sorry, baby - just let me help you.”

Connie lifted you off of him ever so slightly, just enough to push down his sweatpants and take out his already hard cock. You tried not to get a good look at it, not wanting to feel your nerves bubble back up if you could sneak a peek. Instead, you blindly trusted Connie, you let him line himself up and gently press push himself into you.

It was somehow better than the dry humping, and only a few minutes ago - you hadn’t thought that was possible. You continued to grind against his hips, remembering the silent tips he had given you when it was only his sweatpants. But now, with every circle of your body against his, you were gasping and moaning and he was cursing below you.

“Oh fuck.” Connie reached upward and brought your face down to him, giving you sloppy kisses across your lips and face. “You feel so good- so, so good.”

Your hips began to falter, your stomach tightening with pleasure. Connie felt the distance you were trying to create between your bodies - and he couldn’t blame you, you just didn’t know what was happening to your body, you didn’t realize he was going to give you your first orgasm. Connie tried to eliminate the distance you created, humping upwards into your entrance and only creating more pressure in your abdomen.

“Connie,” You moaned against his mouth, “Connie, I-I- don’t-”

Connie nodded against your face, “Just let yourself go, don’t worry - I’ve got ‘ya.”

So - as you always did - you did as Connie said and you let yourself go. In the peak of your orgasm, the haziness in the room around you began to disappear. Actually, the haziness wasn’t disappearing, the whole room was. And, slowly, Connie was disappearing from underneath you as well.

Before Connie had completely gone, you heard him whisper, “Don’t worry - I got ‘ya.”

Your eyes snapped awake to the sound of some strangely upbeat song playing in the living room. You lifted your head from Connie’s chest and glanced at the tv only to realize the song was a part of the end of the romantic comedy Connie had chosen about two hours ago.

It seemed you had imagined the whole experience. There were no strewn clothes, no orgasmic sex, no grinding and no fun. Instead, it was just you and Connie: as dressed as ever and snoring lightly into the dark living room except for the light coming from the credits of the movie still playing on the tv in front of you. And, when you shifted from one hip to the other, now pressing your backend into Connie, you felt the slightly uncomfortable presence of wetness in your panties.

The weirdest part was you didn’t feel like a virgin anymore, but maybe your dream was just extremely believable - you had always had a vast imagination.

would you ever do a part 2 to armin’s “forbidden” fic? :0

id totally be down for writing that someday,,,,,, dilf armin is an addiction

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Last Updated 05/28/2021

For Halloween, I’ll be doing my own version of Kintober,, I’ll be releasing a different one-shot everyday of the week leading up to the 31st! Each one-shot (~3.7k words each) will have a different character from AoT and will be about a different spooky creature

Below is the order of each one-shot being released from 10/25-10/31 of 2021:

**These one-shots will include smut**

(if you wish for the order and creatures to be a secret then, keep scrolling!)

Monday 10/25:

Sasha the Exiled God: a female deity,,, who so happens to be exiled from her home in this au.

Warnings: Praise Kink, Cunnilingus (Receiving), Sex Outside

Word Count: 3.5k

Tuesday 10/26: 

Pieck the Witch: a woman who is supposed to have evil or wicked powers.

Warnings: Obsession, Fingering (Giving)

Word Count: 3.7k

Wednesday 10/27:

Connie the Incubus: a male demon believed to have sexual intercourse with (sleeping) women.

Warnings: Cherry Picking, Corruption Kink, Unprotected Sex, Wet Dream

Word Count: 3.8k

Thursday 10/28:

Jean the Lidérc: a creature that can assume a human shape, usually the shape of a much lamented dead relative or lover in order to have sex with its victims.

Warnings: Major Character Death, Grieving, Dry Humping, Descriptions of Injuries

Word Count: 3.7k

Friday 10/29:

Armin the Prince of Hell: an evil spirit or devil, especially one thought to possess a person or act as a tormentor in hell,,, who just so happens to be a prince of Hell in this au.

Warnings: Slight Powerplay, Mentions of Manipulation, Unprotected Sex, (Slight) Breeding Kink

Word Count: 3.7k

Saturday 10/30:

Reiner the Serial Killer: a person who commits a series of murders, often with no apparent motive and typically following a characteristic, predictable behavior pattern.

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mentions of Drugging and Alcohol, Dry Humping

Word Count: 3.8k

Sunday 10/31 - Halloween!:

Eren the Vampire: a corpse supposed, in European folklore, to leave its grave at night to drink the blood of the living by biting their necks with long pointed canine teeth.

Warnings: Slight Powerplay, Unprotected Sex, (Kind of) Public Sex, Blood Kink

Word Count: 3.9k

The Demon

(Armin x Reader) - Word Count: 3.7k

Creature: an evil spirit or devil, especially one thought to possess a person or act as a tormentor in hell,,, who just so happens to be a prince of Hell in this au.

Warnings: Slight Powerplay, Mentions of Manipulation, Unprotected Sex, (Slight) Breeding Kink

Quick Summary: after following instructions from an old leather book, you are suddenly visited by a supernatural being.

Extra Notes: 2 more days until Halloween!

You wiped the sweat collecting on your forehead with the back of your hand. You leaned back from exhaustion and took in the sight of your masterpiece in front of you. Decorated with pieces of you; locks of your hair, your blood steadily drying on the hardwood floor underneath you, and the book you had borrowed under your own name, you were connected indefinitely to the beautiful piece in front of you.

You sighed and grabbed the book you had borrowed from the college library. You read each step of the ritual intently, making sure not to miss a thing. First, form a pentagram with your blood - done. Second, place the lock of your hair at one of the star’s points - done. Third, write your intentions on a piece of paper and place it at the opposite point of your hair - done. Fourth, place the Prince of Hell, Belial’s, statuette at the top of the star - not done.

You reached behind you and grabbed the wooden statuette. It was a bitch to get your hands on this thing, which was surprising considering the shape of the wooden figure. It was originally structured in the 17th century, you assumed during the Salem Witch Trials or something cliché like that. And, the years of existence had definitely had an impact on the small figure.

Originally depicted as a demon with large wooden wings and an unforgettably attractive face that could bring any innocent young maiden onto their knees, whether to pray or to do something different. But now, the wooden statuette had eroded the demon’s face to an unrecognizable blur and only one of his wings was still attached to the figure, the other somewhere out in the world. But, you had the majority of the original figure and that’s all you needed, which was precisely what you explained to the pawn shop owner when you found this statuette on one of his shelves.

You placed the wooden statuette at the top point of the star. You could finally cross off the fourth part of the ritual, now onto the final step. You looked into the book, taking a deep breath before repeating the Latin words written on the fragile pages.

You weren’t sure you were even saying the words correctly, and you hoped you’d be graded on participation rather than correctness. You honestly doubted the demon Prince Belial would complain about being summoned because the Latin wasn’t said correctly. If you were bringing him back to the mortal world to wreak havoc, would he honestly care as long as you tried your best to say each word? He just shouldn’t expect so much from a college student who still cheats off of her roommates in class.

Each Latin word came roughly out of your mouth. You stumbled over every other syllable, furrowing your eyebrows and shaking your head with every breath of speaking. And after a few painful minutes, you finally reached the end of the words with a dramatic shout of the last three words. You threw your arms outwards, hoping the room would fill with smoke and within the midst of it would stand Prince Belial in front of you.

But, nothing. You were met with absolutely nothing.

You tilted your head to the side and reread over the parts of the ritual once, twice, three times. But, nope, you didn’t miss a step. The book, the blood, the hair, the intentions, the statuette - everything was as it should be. The only thing that was missing was Prince Belial, risen again.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, shutting the book with an impatient slam. You set the book down on the floor and rose from where you were sitting. You were heading off to the kitchen to chug a fifth of vodka out of exhaustion when it happened.

You felt your heart drop into your stomach as you stood in the doorway of the attic. Adrenaline was coursing quickly through your veins when you felt the shift of the air in the small room. He was here, you were sure of it - and you suddenly no longer needed to get drunk to forget the entire experience.

You gulped and, without turning around, spoke out loud, “Belial?”

You heard a light chuckle behind you, “Are we acquainted enough to be on a first name basis - if so, excuse me for not remembering you, dear.”

“No.” You turned around with wide eyes and a pounding heart. “We aren’t, but-”

“Then,” Prince Belial said sharply, “It’s Belial, Crown Prince of Hell to you.” With one flick of his finger from your chest to the floor, you were back on your knees with a yelp. “Understood?”

You nodded quickly, “I’m sorry, My Lord.”

“My Lord?” Belial smiled crookedly at you. “I like that too, you may call me My Lord, if that’s easiest for you to remember.”

You nodded slowly, “Okay, My Lord.”

“Mortals,” Prince Belial scoffed at you, “You’re all so easily bewildered by anything you don’t understand.”

He could see the way your gaze danced across his body, he watched every second you looked up and down. He was used to this reaction from mortals like you, the ones who aren’t afraid of him and are instead excited to be in his presence. The mortals who are stupid enough to go out of their ways to summon him, hoping for him to work miracles for them. But, he isn’t a god, he didn’t owe mortals a thing - and he doesn’t care about mortals the way angels do.

He wondered what mortals saw when they looked at him. He knew they couldn’t take in his true form, his pointed wings and leathery skin was invisible to a human’s naked eye. What they could see instead was his Earth form; his blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin, light freckles across his nose and cheeks. The only indication of him being a Prince of Hell in this Earth form were his black trousers and inhumanly toned body that he had worked on for centuries in the backrooms of Hell. So, maybe he did look beautiful to mortals in this form though he never really saw the appeal.

“What do you see?” Prince Belial raised his eyebrows at you. “And, do you like what you see?”

“You kind of-” You smiled weakly to yourself before continuing- “You kind of look like this boy I used to know.”

Belial perked a single eyebrow, “Oh?”

“Yeah, but,” You said as you shook your head quickly, “I haven’t seen him since I was a kid, he was my next door neighbor, actually. And- and he was really nice, he was about the same age you’re pretending to be right now, actually. He was a lot older than me, probably-” You took a moment to think- “Well, he was probably about twelve years older than me, if I remember correctly.”

Your words came flooding out of you, confessing years of pent up unresolved feelings. Things you wouldn’t tell the Prince of Hell was just how much you liked the boy, despite the drastic age gap. The way that even at the age of eight, you felt a certain attraction towards the boy - just the way a child develops a silly crush on their favorite Disney Channel character, nothing world altering.

Though, you had to admit - even now - that you would drop anything to be with him, and you wished the age gap hadn’t been so drastic, then maybe you would have actually been with the boy. Or, at least known where he was right now in life.

“Huh,” Belial said, “What was this boy’s name?”

Belial recognized this human emotion immediately, he was much too familiar with it considering he couldn’t feel it. Maybe he recognized it from the loads of girls who all summoned him forward with their blood and hair and statuette. Maybe he recognized it so quickly because of how many desperate girls all sat on their knees in front of him and fell for him slowly with each second he stood in this world, just like you.

“Armin,” You said with the ghost of a grin, “His name was Armin, and he was very nice.”

“Well, I’m not nice.” Belial kneeled to meet your eye length. “But, you may call me that name if it’ll help this whole exchange go quicker. But, I’m still your Lord, aren’t I?”

A large smile took up most of your face, “Of course, of course, My Lord-” You took a moment before continuing- “Armin.”

Armin smiled, “Now, that’s what I like to hear.” Armin reached forward and placed a gentle hand on the side of your head, his fingers barely touching your hair. “Do you feel more comfortable now that I’m Armin?”

You nodded slowly, “Overwhelmingly comfortable, in fact.”

“Perfect.” Armin’s hand steadily moved down your hair, curling the strands around his fingers. “Now, why did you summon me here? What can I do for you?”

“Well,” You said as heat flushed your face, “It’s a bit embarrassing.”

To say he already knew what you summoned him for was an understatement. He knew what girls who go looking for his ritual and his statuette always have in mind for him to do for them. He recognized the same signs in them that he saw with you; your fidgety hands, your desperate glances, your light smiles, and wide eyes. Oh, he knew exactly what you wanted from him. It was what every pretty, innocent girl wanted from him.

“That’s okay.” Armin took his hand back, taking a deep breath. “Take your time telling me, darling. I’ll be here until you can finally say it, partially because I can’t physically leave until you're satisfied and because I want to.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at Armin, “You can’t leave until I’m satisfied? Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes,” Armin said with a light shrug, “That’s part of the contract, it was written in the ritual words - you know, the Latin you butchered?”

You laughed and pushed Armin’s shoulder playfully, “Shut up!” Your smile quickly faded away as your mistake of what you’ve just done became apparent in your mind. You just pushed a Prince of Hell and told him to shut up, what is wrong with you? Are you stupid or the bravest person in this universe? “I’m so sorry, Armin, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine.” Armin smiled at you as his eyes glanced over your lips. “I enjoy being perceived as another human to you, it’s refreshing.”

It was a blatant lie, but you didn’t need to know that. The last thing he wanted was to destroy the progress he had made with you by getting angry over something so stupid. He had done so much to make you feel comfortable; showing up in his Earth form, letting you call him by some random boy’s name, and touching you gently as you struggled to think of the intentions you wrote down on the paper folded closed at the end of the star’s point. The last thing Armin needed was you to freak out and trap him on Earth because he scared you away before you could be satisfied.

You took a deep breath, “I’m still sorry, My Lord. And, the reason I brought you here is because- well, because I need you to- I need you to do something for me.”

“Well.” Armin failed to hide the annoyance in his voice. “That’s already apparent, but what is this thing you need for me to do?”

You really don’t need to be shy, he was used to this. You could be as clear to him as possible, make it known what you need from him. It didn’t matter what way you decided to say it, he knew exactly what you needed. You needed him to fuck you, there was no reason to be ashamed of that - mortals just couldn’t fuck the way demons could, especially Princes of Hell.

You took a deep breath, “I don’t know how to say it.”

“Just say it.” Armin smiled cockily as he placed his hand gently on your cheek. “I can read your mind, you know?”

“No!” Your eyes widened to the size of a deer’s eyes as they stare into a car’s headlights. It seemed your life was flashing before your eyes as you realized just how many times you had thought about losing yourself in his body ever since he had gotten here. “You’re lying, right?”

Armin couldn’t hide his smile, “Yes, I am lying - but, I can read body language. So, if you find the courage to say what I’m reading, then I can do it for you.” Armin moved his hand past your ear, and to the back of your neck as he leaned in closer to you. “Because I already know what you want from me.”

You nodded slowly, “I want you- I just want you.”

“Alright,” Armin said with a grin, “That’s good enough for me.”

You didn’t take a greater demon, like one of the Princes of Hell himself, to even take the time to romance you beforehand, but maybe this was just the demon kicking into his new Armin persona. First, he grazed his soft lips against your own, lightly and passionately kissing you. It was like a younger version of yourself was finally being awakened as you realized how many times you had imagined this exact moment with Armin - the real and human Armin, but this still counted you were sure of it.

And secondly, Armin had lifted his hand from your neck up to the back of your head, trying to give himself more leeway inside of your mouth. Now that his tongue had successfully entered past your lips, he now used it to lick the roof of your mouth. He let the tip of his tongue flick against the back of your front teeth, feeling the way you melted from the small touch.

Your body shuttered from just the small flick of his tongue and you felt yourself melting into him. You wanted more of him, you wanted everything he could give you - either because you knew he could give you the world and then some, or maybe because he looked like the one boy you could, for whatever reason, never get over, no matter how much time went by.

“Armin,” The words fell lightly from your mouth before you could muster up enough composure to stop them, “Please, just touch me.”

You could feel Armin’s smile against your lips, “Touch you where exactly?” Armin’s fingertips still ran across your scalp, gently tangling your hair around his fingers. “I’m too stupid to know what you mean.”

“You know where I mean,” You said passive aggressively which caused Armin to become a bit rougher with his grip on your hair, “So, just touch me.”

“No.” Armin pulled his mouth away from your mouth, his eyes staring into your eyes with a great presence of anger behind their seemingly sweet blueness. “I don’t know where you mean. Where?”

You couldn’t hold back your anger as your eyebrows furrowed deeply at Armin, “Do you want me to spell it out for you or can you-”

Armin’s grip on your hair tightened, forcing you to stop talking mid sentence, “Don’t get moody with me, alright?” You nodded your head obediently despite the awkward angle he had your neck at you for you to peer up at him. “Now, answer the question, darling - where do you want me to touch you?”

Your face heated up from embarrassment as your eyes avoided his beautiful blue ones, “I- I want you to touch me, everywhere- touch me everywhere, please, Armin- My Lord.”

“Of course, darling,” Armin scoffed, “You mortals are so quick to obey with just a little bit of force.” Armin grinned at you as his free hand felt it’s way down the side of your body, towards your hip. “And, you all want the same thing.” His hand playfully danced on the waist of your jeans, towards the button and zipper. “Somebody who seems nice and gentle, but will really handle you like the piece of meat you are.”

Armin’s fingertips played with the button of your jeans before his finger dipped into the area behind it. His pointer finger scraped against your abdomen, pointing towards the area you wanted him most. Armin watched the way your body leaned towards him before he looked up at you with a grin, and a simple request of his lips.

“Lay down,” Armin said softly, “And, don’t make a scene - I don’t really feel like taming you all night long, I prefer people being sufficient with my demands, I admire obedience - understand?”

You gave Armin a curt nod, “Okay, My Lord.” You laid on your back, pressing your shoulder blades into the hardwood underneath you.

Armin pulled your jeans down your legs, tossing them to the side with one flick of his wrist. It seemed like this was the first time he ever really broke character. Armin no longer looked entirely like himself as he stared at you from above; his eyes were no longer a beautiful and comforting blue, but rather a deep, dark red that reminded you of the stories of Hell when you were younger. In his eyes were eons of torture and pain, and a slight hint of enjoyment from hearing the screams of terror and pain.

You were suddenly reminded just who you were giving your body to, this wasn’t the sweet boy next door, Armin. No, this was someone - or rather, something - much more wicked than that sweet boy Armin, no matter how uncanny the physical similarities seemed to be.

Armin situated himself in between your now bare legs, and pressed his hips against the crotch of your panties. The foreign touch was enough to make yourself jump back slightly, Armin took the new room as an invitation, so he settled himself further between your legs.

Armin leaned close to your face, ghosting his lips over your own, “You didn’t say anything about it being romantic, so I assume you’re not really into that whole thing?”

“I am,” You whispered breathlessly as he kissed down your neck, “But, not really right now - I just, I don’t really care right now. Take me however you want me.”

Armin looked up at you, “Hm, what beautiful words - alright, I accept.”

Armin wasn’t soft or comfortable or gentle, he was the complete opposite of how you imagined him all these years. Where his hands touched weren’t tender, but rather rough and needy - his hands moved around your body like he already knew it so well, like he had formed it himself. He knew every touch you liked, he even knew every place you wanted to be touched more than once. He’d give extra time to those specific places, touching you there twice, three times, four times, as many times as he had to touch you to get you calling out his name in a whiny and desperate tone.

His lips were rushed as they kissed against your neck and jaw. You felt yourself arching your back in a desperate attempt to get closer to him. His one hand moved from your side, down your body, and towards your panties. You thought for sure he was going to touch you - the anticipation even caused you to jolt into Armin’s body, but instead he grabbed at himself. His fingers expertly grabbed at his own crotch, loosening the waist of his trousers.

You couldn’t see anything, but rather felt it as he moved the crotch of your panties to the side and slid himself inside. The pleasure that came with his thrusts caused you to see stars as you threw your head back, your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head.

“Look at me,” Armin grunted out as he continuously thrusted into you, “I want you to look at me.”

Immediately after your eyes took sight of the thing in front of you, you wanted to look away. Armin could see the fear in your face as you took in the sight of the real demon you had summoned. He had long, curling ebony horns coming from his temple, dark scarlet eyes that were fixated on you, but he still had Armin’s milky white skin and freckles across his button nose - it was as if the demon had been fighting between being himself and being who he truly was, as if he were fighting back the imagery of Armin himself.

Even as this distorted version of the boy you loved for all of these years, you still felt safe underneath him. You gently reached up to his cheek, fighting every fearful nerve in your body. You moved your fingers against his soft cheek, running your fingertips under his eyes and over his cheekbone.

Armin was smiling when he first saw your widened and scared eyes. He found enjoyment in the way you had squirmed underneath him, trying to run away from the monster you had mistakenly summoned into your own apartment. But, your gentle touch reminded the demon just how kind humanity could be when they weren’t being stupid.

Your eyes were no longer hard and full of worry, but rather loving and soft, and it reminded the demon that maybe humans weren’t little play things, maybe some humans were deserving of kindness. The thought itself sent him over the end, and with one final thrust into you, he let go of his side of the bargain, the side that these dumb little girls never realize is a mistake until it’s too late.

“Armin,” You breathlessly called out his name as your body released all over his cock.

“Sure, darling,” Armin whispered sarcastically into your ear, “Whatever helps you sleep better at night.”

Maybe some humans out there were deserving of kindness and peace, but he didn’t think you were one of them. You only cared for him because he looked enough like Armin to confuse your delusional mind into thinking he actually was the boy. It was cold hearted manipulation, and the demon had to applaud you for it, he would’ve done the same thing in your position. And, he even hoped that in nine months when your belly was fully formed and his offspring was desperately clawing its way into the world, that you’d keep that same delusion - it’s easier to believe the little blonde baby was the child of a human boy rather than a Prince of Hell you had summoned to come fuck you.

Original artist, give them the love they deserve

Okay, you’ve convinced me, time to write some Connie porn...

connie takes a break during sex to eat two flintstone gummies bc he thinks they give him extra power

he's out of character TO YOU. i know him though.

Holy - Angel

(Jean x Reader) - Word Count: 2.2k

Creature: a spiritual being believed to act as an attendant, agent, or messenger of God

Warnings: Blasphemy, Very Religious Mindsets, Vaginal Penetration, Creampie, Breeding Kink

Extra Notes: Kicking off the Halloween countdown strong with some angelic Jean! Also, for all of the Fleabag fans, this is lightly inspired by the Confessional scene in season 2!

You were used to the church being quiet at this time of night, it was unusual to see anyone awake at midnight and especially seeing them inside praying. But, this was the only time you liked to come here; you’d show up on Sundays, Wednesdays, and almost every Friday and Monday at midnight.

The large wooden front door of the church creaked as you pushed it open. You leaned your entire body weight into the door, slowly moving it to rest in its normal spot for Wednesdays and Sundays. It’s only completely open all day when there's a service, but just because it’s shut doesn’t mean you can’t come in and pray - that’s something the priest had always told you since your first day here.

Your shoes clicked against the hard mahogany wood flooring underneath you. You walked down the main aisle of the church, passing the pews you normally sit in during sermons. You tended to choose the pews towards the back, not wanting to impose on the other churchgoers - the only person here nice enough to make you feel welcome has always been the priest. Everybody else gave you weird looks for showing up alone when you used to come every week with your husband.

You finally made it to your destination, the large mahogany confessional stood high in front of you. You pulled back the curtain for the left side of the booth and immediately kneeled on the small step stool in front of the small iron grate separating you from the priest. You took a deep breath before bringing all of your sins to mind, readying yourself for the next conversation.

This definitely wasn’t your last time in this exact position and place, and definitely wouldn’t be your last time either. Every week you tried to confess, same day, same time, same priest, same church. You enjoyed routine and you liked to believe maybe Father Jean liked it as well, always knowing you’d make your way here eventually every single Friday night. You took a deep breath before beginning the same routine of the night.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.” There fell a moment of silence in which you knew the priest was basking in as well as yourself. “It’s been a week since my last confession.”

You started talking about all of your sins within the last seven days. You spoke of the time you saw your ex-husband at the grocery store the other day, and how you had wished you had the nerve to speak your anger - but you didn’t. You also spoke of the time your mother called and you purposely ignored the ringing because you didn’t feel like talking at the moment - but you did call her back later. And, you spoke a bit too long about the large chocolate cake you bought and ate all by yourself alone in your living room last Saturday night.

After minutes and minutes of confessing every moment within the last seven days where you felt minorly sinful, you ended with an apology. You always ended with many sorrys said to the priest. Sorry for wasting your time, and thank you for being here for me. Sorry for always sinning and thank you for always blessing me despite my sins. Sorry for stealing your sleep on a Friday night, and thank you for always being available when you are available.

Your routine for every Friday night at midnight in this same confessional, with this same priest, in this same church was down to the T. You wouldn’t be surprised if there came a time when you would confess the same sins, constantly, every week. Now, in the routine, all that was left was Father Jean blessing you and you going on your merry way back home.

“That’s all of your sins?” Father Jean asked after a moment of letting your confession truly settle in the air between you both. “You have nothing else left to say to me right now?”

You nodded even though you knew the priest couldn’t see it, “Yes, that’s everything I can think of at the moment.”

“Not even masturbation?”

The question shocked you to your core. You didn’t even like saying the m-word and here was your priest saying it to you, asking you if you have participated in the act. You wondered why he’d even ask such a thing, did he believe you were lying about your sins?

“No, no no no, of course not, Father.” You felt like crying, pleading with the priest to know that you would never leave a sin out of your confession and you would never lie to him. “I have never done that, never.”

“Wow,” Father Jean spoke as if he gave up completely, “You’ve never even masturbated, you really are a saint, you know that, right?”

“I,” You attempted to speak, but only air came out of your mouth. You thought maybe it was a good sign you were breathing, at least now you knew this whole conversation was real. “I, uh, I think it’s a little sacreligious for you to compare me to a saint when I’m not.”

Father Jean giggled breathily on his side of the confessional. You heard him smack his hand against his leg, as if he were physically giving up on this conversation. You felt guilty for making him feel this way, you now wished you had masturbated at least once so you could help him through this conversation - maybe he wouldn’t be so upset if you had done something that sinful in your life just once.

But, you never had. You only had sex with your husband a handful of times before he divorced you a year into the marriage. And, even then, you had been persistent on waiting to have sex for the first time until after your wedding day. Before then as well, you always swallowed the urge to touch yourself, never wanting to give into sin.

“I’m sorry,” You pleaded to the priest, “I can- I can touch myself if you want me to!”

“No, no no no.” The wood creaked on the other side of the wall in front of you, it sounded like Father Jean was walking around on his side of the confessional. “I don’t want you to do that, I just- I have never met somebody like you before, you know that?” The curtain on his side sprung open quickly, you looked toward your curtain, wondering where he was going. Outside of your curtain, you heard him speak. “You’re special, you deserve a special reward.”

You blinked at him, dumbfounded, “Father, what do you mean, what are you saying?”

The curtain in between you and the priest slammed against the wall beside it and you stared up at Father Jean. You were still on your knees in front of him, looking up at him with large and delicate eyes. He could see your innocence in your face, he could see how sinless you lived and yet how guilty you felt for every normal feeling you had. It was amazing to him to see someone so much like himself.

“I’ve been looking for somebody like you for quite a long portion of my existence.” Father Jean shook his head as he examined you in front of him. “And, I have never met anyone as holy as you are. I want to reward you, God is allowing me to reward you, if you accept his reward.”

You nodded quickly, “Yes, of course I accept. I accept anything God will give me.”

“Then, stand up for me.” You did as he said, and stood on your feet. You had to look up at Father Jean at this distance, you had never been this close to him. You always knew he was tall, and you had always heard the other members speak of his height, but you had never had the chance to witness it yourself so closely. “And, kiss me.”

Your throat had gone dry, you had to admit you had found yourself imagining kissing Father Jean many, many times - he’s the most handsome man you had ever seen. But, you never thought it become a reality, you knew priests couldn’t marry, so you assumed sex was not an option for them. Hearing your priest tell you to kiss him made you want to question his celibacy, but you also didn’t care so much, he didn’t have to tell you twice - you have wanted to kiss him for as long as you’ve known him.

You leaned forward and kissed him, swiftly landing your lips on his lips. You had never kissed anyone other than your ex-husband, and you had to admit that kissing somebody else was a whole new experience for you. And, you had to admit you liked it, you liked it a lot - and part of you even missed these intimate moments with your ex.

Your body was suddenly flush against Father Jean’s, and you weren’t sure if this was your doing or his. His body was not only pressed against your own, but now he was backing you up, back into the confessional. You moved your lips from his mouth to give yourself just enough space to talk.

“Father,” You whispered against his lips, “Where are you-?”

The priest sushed you quietly, “It’s okay, just trust me, okay?” You nodded while your lips still grasped for his, not wanting to stop kissing him but still curious in his plan. But, you did trust him, you trusted him with every ounce of your soul.

Father Jean backed you against the mahogany wall and you picked you up so your legs could wrap around his waist. You gasped as he pushed your back against the wall enough to only need to hold you up with one hand. He used his now free hand to unbutton his black slacks.

The new angle you were at forced your dress to be pushed up to your waist, and now his free hand scrambled for your panties. You tried to speak, but all that came out was a mess of breathing and syllables.

“Fa-fa-fath-er” You spoke through breathless gasps.

The priest shook his head, “Don’t worry, God has a plan for you and this baby, he’s going to be very special.” Father Jean moved your panties to the side, pushing his dick inside of you in one swift movement. You would’ve been more impressed by his pure muscular strength if you weren’t preoccupied by his whole cock inside of you.

The feeling of being with Father Jean felt so much better than being with your ex-husband, it felt holy oddly enough. You felt like you were floating rather being held up by the priest’s muscular arms, and you could swear - in your lightheaded state of pleasure - that there was an odd golden glow around the both of you. The golden glow made you think that maybe God himself was here to witness this moment, and that thought made your eyes flood with tears. You always knew God was real and active in your life, but this was the first moment you felt reassured by that feeling.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as gripped onto the back of the priest’s shirt. You could feel that Father Jean had some odd bumps on his shoulder bones, they felt like long linear scars meeting at a point at his ribs. You were curious about what these marks were caused by, but not enough to open your mouth and attempt speaking - and you were sure if you had opened your mouth, nothing but moans would come out.

You suddenly felt as Father Jean’s abdomen tightened against your stomach, and even though you had only had sex a handful of times, you knew what that meant. You leaned in close to the priest, bringing your mouth up to his ear and whispered sweetly to him.

“Come inside of me,” You begged, “Please, Father.”

You didn’t have to say much more than that before Father Jean was releasing himself inside of you. You and the priest sang a chorus of moans as you felt yourself get filled up with his warmth. You wanted Father Jean to fuck you again and again and again, knowing that eventually you’ll be filled up with as many children as he wants for however long he wants you.

The priest set you back on the ground gently and your legs wobbled as they hit the ground. You felt like a newborn deer just learning to walk for the first time and you looked at it as well when you tried to leave the confessional without the priest’s assistance. Father Jean helped you to a pew and sat down beside you, placing his hand gently on your arm before speaking softly to you.

“I’m glad you have accepted God’s gift,” Father Jean said, “He will be pleased to know one of his children is walking the Earth, continuing his legacy for him.”

You nodded, confused but not in the mood to ask questions. You’d ask him some other time, you’d ask him about God’s gift to you, what he means, why he’s doing this, and when you can do it again. You also wished to ask the priest what those marks on his back were from, but just as suddenly as Father Jean had pinned you against the wall, you felt the spirit of sleep dawn upon you. You rested your head on the priest’s shoulder and whispered to him.

“Okay,” You said in a small voice, one you were unsure if the priest could even hear, “Thank you.” Jean chuckled as you began drifting off into sleep.