#its like you somehow knew ive been craving something darker

[dashedwithromance]

Slithered Here From Eden - Princewitch

KINGDOM OF THE WICKED SPOILERS!!! I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW SPOILERY THIS FIC IS. THE HEIGHT OF SPOILERS!! THE PEAK OF SPOILERS!! THIS IS A VERY LOUD WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KINGDOM OF THE WICKED SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT DO NOT KEEP READING IF YOU DONT WISH TO BE SPOILED THANK YOUUUUUU

anyways here is my first princewitch fic!! i hope you guys like it, and let me know if you have any ideas for fics for those two. im a little nervous to put this out here - ive written only cressworth and original stuff for a while, so im kinda nervous this wont be in character or will be weird in my style. anyway, please let me know if you like this, and if its something you want more of. im already working on a few others, courtesy of @duchess-of-nothing-and-nowhere ‘s brilliant ideas, but send in any requests you have!!! i hope you guys enjoy, thank you!!!!!

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Hell was, well, hell.

Her husband was busy doing whatever kings of Hell did in their spare time, which she was thankful for. She didn’t wish to run into any of the Wicked, but Pride was close to the top of the list. Not the worst offender, however. The Prince she’d once tentatively called an ally had claimed that spot with his spectacularly humiliating betrayal. 

The worst part was that she still didn’t understand. His motives, his feelings, his aims - all were shrouded in mystery, one that seemed to taunt her at every twist and turn. Bastard. 

Contrary to her preconceptions, her rooms were actually rather beautiful. Similar to the style of the house Wrath had rented in Palermo, but it felt different. Darker. Her quarters were styled in black and gold, with serpent scones lining the walls. The fire flickered in a menacing fashion, though she’d long since learned it had more bark than bite. 

Shadows crept along the floor until they curled at her feet like a cat, announcing the presence of the one demon prince she wished to see the least. 

“What do you want.” Emilia barely gave him a glance before he walked him, arrogance pouring off him. As if he owned the damn place. 

Infuriatingly beautiful as usual, he wore a dark suit, flecked with golden patterns, not unlike the tattoo she knew adorned his shoulder. Her attention flicked to the wicker basket he held gingerly in his hands. Covered with a soft blue tea towel, it looked like something plucked off the streets of her home, not something that belonged within the obsidian walls of the kingdom where wickedness ruled with abandon. 

Silence was his only reply as he looked her up and down. The gaze threatened to set her alight; with rage or desire, she wasn’t entirely sure. Once, the bed that loomed behind her would’ve offered a taunting distraction and a fragile but desperate wish. Now, it only annoyed her, reminding her of the moments she’d failed so magnificently at seeing through his façade.

Still no response. They hadn’t spoken since her wedding, and their last words had been less of a conversation and more of throwing of well-deserved insults on her behalf. He’d told her that she knew nothing of his motivations, and to assume he wished her harm was foolish. She’d told him a few carefully chosen expletives, complete with a hand gesture that would’ve had her mother wringing her hands. Wrath had spent the days prior skulking outside her quarters, never saying a word, only letting his shadows pollute her already foul mood. She might’ve had the slightest amount of sympathy for him, had he not betrayed her, lied to her, married her to his brother and thoroughly pissed her off in the process.

He placed the basket down on the table at the other side of the room. Looking up, Wrath raised a carefully groomed brow. Apparently, princes of Hell had beauty routines.

His mood was undetectable through his face, but the shadows that followed him gave it away, if only slightly. They were the same dark as a summer night; dark enough for comfort, but not the soulless black pitch she’d seen him wear so often. An interesting combination for a prince who seemed to care not a whit whether she lived or died after he’d gotten what he wanted.

Wrath pulled back the cloth covering the basket to reveal – food. A carefully curated selection of her favourites, smelling like they’d been plucked off the serving plates of the Sea & Vine.

She nearly salivated at the sight – the food she’d eaten in Hell had been a sore spot for her. Though nothing was wrong with it, it lacked the love of homemade food. The flavour that came with knowing that someone lovingly made every single bite. There were no laughing families who cooked here, no fathers to taste-test, or sisters to tease while they made sangria side by side.

  “How on earth did you find this?” The words slipped out before she could correct herself. ‘Earth’ was perhaps not the right term, though she couldn’t truly tell where she was. Under, felt more accurate. Below.

He looked at her as if she was missing the obvious – and she was.

The food smelt like she was used to because it was what she was used to. The same recipes, made with the same care as every meal that came from the Sea & Vine kitchens.

Panic enveloped her faster than joy.

“Did you hurt them?” She hissed, desperately searching his appearance for any sign of violence. He was wearing black, that much was true, but either he cleaned up exceptionally well, or there was no blood to be found.

“Hurt them?” Wrath’s tone was even, but she could hear how he scoffed. The nerve, “No. I even paid for it.”

Her heart still beat fast enough to burst from her chest, so he continued, “Relax, witch. No harm has come to them, nor will it, if you comply with my brother’s terms.” There was no audible threat in his tone, but she knew it went without saying. Comply, be Pride’s blooded wife, or her family would receive the same fate as Vittoria. It hurt to even think about, however brief the thought was.

She was going to throw something right at his beautiful, awful face. Maybe the basket, once she was finished devouring her favourites. Wrath would certainly look ridiculous enough with a basket slammed over his head, if he didn’t kill her first.

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you fear.” Emilia blinked, unsure how to respond. He seemed to be lingering, if demon princes could ever linger. Why wouldn’t he leave?

She nodded, restraining a biting retort about how she was sure that fact was a deep disappointment for him. Remembering the odd rules of demonhood, she thanked him.

Still, he wouldn’t leave. Just stood there, watching her with those golden eyes that peered into her very soul, reaching inside and setting her alight. His gaze was unnerving.

Her patience, which had thinned dramatically since becoming a co-ruler of Hell, waned, “Are you waiting for payment?”

He laughed. Actually laughed. A short, biting sound, but a laugh nonetheless.

“I could smell your foul mood from my own House. Perhaps this will appease you.”

Appease her. As if it were that simple. As if he hadn’t tricked her, lied to her by omission, made her into an even greater fool than the one she was.

“Perhaps if you deigned to be truthful, I would be more polite.” Lies, but worth a try. If only he would tell her something, anything by way of explanation. Even if it was brutally cruel and benefitting a member of the Wicked. Anything but the agony of anticipation.

Apparently this evening was full of more surprises, because Wrath then pulled out a chair, and gestured for her to sit down, like they weren’t sworn enemies. The thought of a biting retort was attractive, but the smell of food was too much. The scent of all her favourites, food she’d spent hours labouring over in the past, wafted towards her like an irresistible gift.

The basket held everything she dreamt of. Wrath laid the table with his harvest as she tried not to gape at the sight. Twin glasses of sangria, somehow still delightfully cold. The comforting smell of garlic and fresh herbs permeated the air. Plates piled high with a mix of all her favourite things: a selection of antipasto, a side plate of bruschetta, a bowl of pasta, and a small dish of cannoli. If she closed her eyes, and forgot the presence of the prince in front of her, she could picture being back home, surrounded by her family and loved ones. If she thought hard enough, she could faintly smell Vittoria’s favourite perfume, the one she made for herself.

When she opened her eyes, the dream faded away, and there was only Wrath sitting across from her. Despite all the effort she presumed he must’ve taken to fetch the food, he sat watching like he thought it was attack him. Or she would. A laugh escaped her lips, almost hysterical, at the situation. Her, Queen of Hell, sat with her husband’s brother, another demon prince, as they ate food from her family’s restaurant. Comical, if disturbing.

“It won’t bite,” She said, eagerly helping herself to a plate. His eyes flickered with the promise of his bite, and she fought to keep any sign of her reaction off her face. Now was not the time to think of his kiss, or goddess forbid, his tongue. Watching carefully, he followed suit, piling his plate high with a mirror of her own. If she didn’t know the strength that lurked beneath that bronze skin and manicured hands, she would’ve called it sweet.

The food was – the food was heavenly. The taste of home, the love of her family, the promise of safety offered in those few bites brought her more joy than she thought possible. She wanted to stretch out the meal forever, as long as time would permit. If this was the last time she would taste such heaven, she wanted to remember it.

Despite her anger at the demon sitting across from her, curiosity embedded itself in her mind. How could he have known? How could he have known this was exactly what she needed, what her soul craved? Just as he’d done with the orange blossoms after Lust, he’d somehow known her mind and soul needing nourishment, and brought it as a gift to her door. Perhaps there would be a price to be paid, someday, but for now, her happiness was enough.

It was ridiculous and Nonna would’ve scolded her dearly, but it was the first semblance of normal she’d had since signing her name over to Pride. The meal sent flashbacks of the time she’d spent after Lust had invaded her mind; the days she’d spent lying in bed, a stranger in her own body, while Wrath sat like a comforting guardian demon. They hadn’t spoken, but he’d delivered her meals thrice daily, and never left her side unless to fetch her clothes from his mysterious source, or to give her privacy if she’d asked. He’d even brought her reading materials, though they were filled with battle strategies, not the steamy romances she craved. At the time, she’d thought it was a sign that maybe, just maybe, Wrath was different. Now, she only felt the white-hot flush of shame. Her appetite faded, and she pushed the plate away.

He catalogued her change in mood with a barely perceptible nod of his head. Truly, she had no idea what he was thinking. Sometimes she thought he was terrified for her, her witch-blood and mortal heart acting as a beacon for all those whom Pride had made an enemy. Sometimes she thought he wanted to kiss her until her lips were swollen and she begged him for release. Sometimes she thought her presence disgusted him to a never-ending degree. A mystery.

“You need to be careful,” He broke the silence with a warning, as if she treated Hell like a stroll along Sicilian streets.

“It would help if you told me anything.” She hated the petulant near-whine of her voice, but it couldn’t be helped. She had nothing and no-one in the world, but she needed an ally. Or, if she couldn’t have that, information would have to do.

“I’ve already told you too much.” Lies. Complete lies.

Her questioning had bored him, she assumed, as he stood up to go, leaving the remnants of their meal scattered around them. Wrath cast one last look at her before stalking out, taking the shadows with him.

Just as she was about to curse his name, she spotted a bouquet of orange blossoms on the dresser.

Bastard.

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His Aphrodisiac... - Vampire!Ivar x Reader

Summary: Ivar had spent hundreds of years living without a purpose, until he met you...

Disclaimer: Smut😏 (another attempt), spelling and grammar mistakes😬😂 and my cliched imagination😂 BTW thank you all for the kind words and overwhelming support Ive gotten on my works😭 To think that people actually like what I’ve wrote is beyond mee💕

Taglist: @yanii-the-hippie @oceans-daughter-3 @peaceisadirtyword @laketaj24 @wuxiesalt @youbloodymadgenius @readsalot73 @calum-hoodwinked-me @affection-rabbit @amy8220 @cutegyrl927 @ragnarssonsbitch @cindy-exo @camatsuru @queenofallthyfandoms @mel0nch0ly

Darkness is all you see around you. How could this be? How did you get into this position... It was him. Ivar Lothbrok. The handsome young CEO that you had just started to work for. You always knew there was something off about him, but the moment he would lay his beautiful electric blue orbs on you, your body would turn into an instant puddle. Ivar knew what he did to your body and he enjoyed it. Watching you squirm in your chair during meetings when he would ask you questions, or asking you to help him out with anything and your legs would rub together trying to alleviate the strong desire you had for him. 

Ivar waltzed into the room and sat on the table in front of the couch. Your desire was so strong that Ivar could barely contain himself. “Please control yourself (y/n), your desire is so strong that I could smell from outside the office. Its hard enough for me already to not be able to touch you the way I want to...” Ivar murmurs to you with his head in his hands. All you wanted to do was obey him and do whatever he wanted, but with that husky tone your body couldn't help but react. Your lower region felt like the ocean itself. Trying to ease the sexual tension in the room and within yourself you begin to close your legs. However, before you got the chance to do so Ivar held your knee and stopped it half way. His blue eyes looked darker and lust had evidently been swirling within them when meeting your (y/e/c) ones. “Not knowing what to say all you could do was stare back. But the  moment that Ivar held your knee and you felt his skin on yours, it was as if something came over you and the suppressed moans you were holding in came out. 

Ivar’s eyes widened at this and so did yours. You couldn't help the embarrassment and placed your head down while muttering a million I’m sorry’s. Ivar lifted your chin up and looked into your eyes. “(Y/n)... my queen and soulmate...because you are human you may not understand these strong feelings towards me, but I assure you that I will not touch you without your consent. However, I beg you to let me make you feel better. Use me in whatever way you need to alleviate yourself, my love...” It was as if the instant he said that your body took things into its own hands. Standing up from the couch you move towards Ivar and throw your legs on either side of him, straddling him on the table. You cupped his face pithing your palms, and his mouth opened to reveal that breathtaking smile. His hands travelled up your thighs, his fingers firm in the exploration of your soft skin. He looks at you with that familiar hungry stare, absolutely ravenous... “Did my words finally encourage you to go after what you crave, my sweet one..” Ivar whispers seductively against your lips. “You could say that, Mr. Lothbrok...” You lean in to him placing your lips to the smooth skin of his neck, slowly removing his jacket. 

Your primal instincts could not be controlled. You wanted this man in front of you. This ungodly man with his bad boy attitude and the immortality you suspected him of having. You were very perceptive and through you attraction to him had made sure to follow his every move. Which led you to discovering his secret... You slipped off his shirt next, kissing the silky skin off his shoulders, then trailing your fingers over the hard plane that was his abdomen. At your actions Ivar lets out a satisfied groan. “Mmmmm... Ivarrrr” Your hips brushed up against his hardness and you couldn't help but let out a lengthy moan. Not being able to control yourself any longer you decide to lower your hands to his pants and accidentally palm him. “(y/n), don't tease me. You're about to start something that you won't be able to finish.��� He warns you by grabbing your hand and halting you movement. But you knew he wanted this just as much as you. His eyes betrayed him and you knew that tonight would only end with him having his long and hard dick inside your wet and tight passage. As you make movements to go and lower his zipper. You quickly find yourself under Ivar on the sofa. This time Ivar grins from ear to ear and you can only shudder at his smile. You knew something was bound to happen and your excitement kept on building up.

“You don't have any idea what you just started my little pet. Its my turn now...” He whispers in your ear, earning him a whine form you. Turning your head, blue eyes meet (y/e/c) ones and instantly feel him everywhere. His mouth covers yours in an instant and you both begin to fight for dominance. Your body moving on its own melts against his and so does your mouth. You mode yourself to fit him in all the right places. His skin burns you with desire in every place he touches your own. Closing your eyes for a moment at the new found sensations trying to take it all in. Your hips grind against his in an attempt to relieve the aching down there. It is then that you realize that you have been disrobed by Ivar and had not even noticed. “How did you do that so quickly?” You manage to say between kisses. “A vampire trick I’ve developed over the years.Want to see another one, my pet?”

At that instant Ivar kisses you with a sudden passion, making you melt against him as your body flushes over. Arching your back towards him, your breasts brush against his naked torso making you moan at the fascinating sensation. Ivar takes this as an opportunity to bring you closer by snaking his arm around your lower back. Before you knew it Ivar had flipped you on all fours. And you let out a scream at his quick movements. Ivar the proceeds to cover your mouth whispering into your ear if you would like the whole office to know what had been going on in here. You shiver at Ivar’s chiseled chest press itself against your back, trying to mold itself into yours. He lowers his head next to your ear and in a slow breathy tone he says something in old norse that you couldn't quite understand.  You press yourself back against him feeling his stiffness against your plump ass. Wriggling your hips, yearning for more, begging him to remove those thin layers between your bodies that separate the both of you. His hand moves from caressing your breast to the inside of your underwear. He inserts 2 of his fingers into you without warning and your moans get louder then before. While pumping his fingers into you at an alarmingly fast rate you end begins to near. Bt before he could relive you of that aching feeling Ivar removes his fingers and wraps one hand firmly around your waist and the other grasping onto your neck. He tilts your head back gently and his lips meet yours in a searing kiss that silences his groans.

“Ivar... please... I want you to make me cum. I need to cum.. pleaseeeee” Ivar has you in his mercy. He lavishes you with searing hot touches and kisses, making you near your climax again, but before you can release your built up tension he pulls away. Before you could complain however, Ivar had thrusted into you without any warning. His pace being one you couldn't help, but let screams of agonizing pleasure break through out the room. As he thrusted into you form behind you tried to match his pace and began to meet him half way. You could feel the heat boiling up and spreading throughout your whole body. Ivar slaps your ass several times and then squeezes you tight and holds you close to him. Flesh on flesh. “Ughhhh, babyyy....” He groans in to your ear. “Harder baby, harderrr... I wanna scream you name to the heavens and have all of the gods be jealous that they cannot share in this glorious moment between you and I. Ugh IVAR!!!!” His hands rake across your whole body sending shivers down your spine. Adding to the already intense rhythm. 

“Babyyy.... I wanna see you. Pleaseee. Let me see your face, Ivarrr” at that Ivar slows his rapid pace and places a kiss to your shoulder. He pulls away from your body and lets you turn around to straddle him. You lower yourself onto him and place your hands on his chest to keep you steady. You cup his face in your palm and lean in close kissing so desperately as if this moment would soon be a distant memory. His fingers danced across your ribs, one landing on your soft hair and the other grasping on to your waist. Working back up to the rhythm you had you feel the scrape of his angsts at the side of your neck, not enough to pierce your skin. But a drop of blood trickles down, which his tongue swipes over delicately. The pleasure he gives you deepens, your lower region tightening in response to his movements. Digging your fingers into his skin Ivar lets out an animalistic growl and that pushes you over the edge. As both of you calm down from your highs, you lay there tangled in each others arms. Not one of you breaking your embrace...

Somehow you knew that no matter what. This man would protect you from anything and you strangely wanted to do the same for him. If only he knew that for a vampire, love never lasts...