#those are trying times to be a witch in the woods

[crystalelemental]

First Impressions - Slay The Princess

As mentioned, I have finished my first runthrough of Slay the Princess. I have also finished my second, and my wife has started her first. Which is about as succinct an endorsement as I can give. Big fan.

To share my route:

Damsel, left together. Pretty cute, and personally, I feel like this is the most powerful route to get first just for The Entity's "She asks you to remember her. You won't." to hit with unbelievable force. I was kinda bummed that wasn't unique to the route.

Prisoner, got shackled to the wall. This, I think, was my favorite route. I'll probably get into it later.

Witch, went first and died. I felt bad for not being able to defy The Narrator anymore and tried to make a show that I'd be nice. Didn't work.

Nightmare, stayed with the Nightmare, got Moment of Clarity. Very fun.

Beast, got eaten because I thought I'd have more time to do Explore options. Then I didn't want to cut my way out of her so I spent too long talking before trying. Not my best moment.

Got The Woods, no idea how that happened.

Accepted help from The Hero.

Left with the original princess

This, I am told, had some fairly rare outcomes for a first run. Apparently people don't become immediately curious about the empty shackle with how much attention is drawn to it? Okay. Getting eaten was also allegedly pretty rare. That one's on me. I'll own that.

My goal was to play with the least amount of slaying possible. I went in determined to free her, so that's largely what I did. This started to derail at Route 3, where I couldn't defy The Narrator more than once, leading to Witch route. Once it was clear my obvious actions couldn't have minor permutations, at least not in a way that would be readily understandable, I started aiming for those "neutral" options where you just leave here until you can make a decision. This went just great, thanks. But at no point did I opt for slaying. I only got voluntarily aggressive after being eaten, and even then cutting my way out was the third action I chose. Too little too late. When confronting the Mound, I liked addressing each of the princesses individually, and pressing the idea of "If you can change me, I must be able to change you. I'm going to keep at this until you understand my perspective too."

As mentioned, there was a second playthrough. This time I opted largely to do things entirely different, with a few minor adjustments to the routes I really liked:

Stranger, which was really cool, big fan of that one.

I wound up bailing out on The Witch when failing the first check against The Narrator didn't get me something new, which caused The Entity to just instant reset my ass and give the hint that continuing to just leave would unravel us both, so thanks for that was wondering how to check that off in the Memories.

Razor, which went through Mutually Assured Destruction. There was unique dialogue meeting with The Entity, where she says she was worried you wouldn't be able to pull this off, but now you're committed. So apparently that ending is specific; it has to be done after one meeting but before a second.

Spectre, which I actually really liked as well. Really fast first part, but really like Ghost Princess.

Damsel, this time pressing what she wants until she breaks. I did three presses before and stopped, thinking it wasn't really going anywhere, but one more would've gotten an unusual ending there too. Kinda sad I didn't keep going, but on the other hand this shorter route isn't super fulfilling.

Prisoner, handed her the knife, took her head with me. This one was kind of sweet.

Did not get anything special before The Narrator.

Could not refuse help from The Hero.

Still left with the original princess.

Before I get into my favorite routes and princess and voice, a couple things. I...really like the routes I got. In particular, I really like seeing the original princess again. Like, the first time through, I took the least violent path I could manage, and through an attempt to maintain that nonviolence knowing that decisions would be denied to me, it progressively got worse between us. But at the end of all things, when you do meet her again, it's the original. The one you connected with, that started all this. This sustains with Stranger, which I also really liked. I'm honestly not sure how long it will be before I do try to do anything other than leaving with the original princess in that final stretch, because I'm so curious how it would work for each iteration. Like, what is Blade Princess like? The ones where you're definitely killing each other, do those loop back to this same sort of affectionate conclusion? I kind of assume yes, that this ending is specifically a reflection of a relationship that is somewhat tumultuous, but always ends returning to the thing you loved most about her.

I also really liked the second route's iteration of this. Voice of the Contrarian was around too, and there's a point where the princess is talking about what she likes in us, and there's a short exchange of

Contrarian: "Wait, she's talking about me. Why is she talking about me? I'm the worst part of us."

Hero: "I think that's the point. I don't think is a 'worst part' of us."

It tied in nicely to the Spectre route. That route is unlocked by just immediately running in and killing her. But the second portion, having seen the static world of nothing, can be reticent. You made a mistake, trusted what you shouldn't have, and ended a life. Your second try can be attempting to make amends. And she allows it. She's willing to forgive, expresses only that she wanted to leave, that she won't hold any of this against you if you can show you mean well now. And I think that's interesting. I feel like every voice and every route has the capacity for harm, compassion, forgiveness, trust or mistrust, and it's woven together really nicely where your choices collapse those possibilities to a single point. Where the Mound is ever-changing, you bring stability through how you engage. Where you are meant to be static, your interactions with her can deeply change you even from the extremes of immediately going along with killing her without a second thought.

There's still a lot to dig through, but let's talk favorite bits.

Prisoner is my favorite. Part of that is just attitude, but I do really like both routes. Shackle ending has her comment that just sitting and waiting with her in silence got her out, and that nothing bad had to happen. It's presented throughout as deeply unsettling, that you don't like the discomfort, that you're constantly trying to press small talk to pass the time and get rebuked. But when it all passes...you're both fine. It's one of the nicer endings. By contrast, handing her the knife has her cut off her own head, trusting that you'll pick up what to do and take her head with you so she can escape. It's a leap of faith, but that deep trust saw you through. I liked that one a lot, too. I feel like this one had the most meaning to me, personally.

Voice of the Smitten was the funniest just by presentation, until Razor route with Voice of the Cheated where the man is just 110% done. Just cuts off the narrator to be like "No, we're not in the fucking woods, just get us in the fucking cabin" and it warps them right in. So big fan of that one.

Favorite routes, obviously Prisoner Shackle is way up there, though I also really liked the Razor/Muturally Assured Destruction route, Spectre Possession route, and Nightmare Moment of Clarity route. Moment of Clarity in particular does something I really enjoy, which is messing around with the choices. In a game with a bunch of choices, especially where a lot of them seem to matter even in ways that kinda go against particular rules (ie, Explore is usually a free action, until it's not), it's really cool when you get hit with things that just take away choice. Moment of Clarity in particular is all about breaking down your will to fight this and giving in, and choices aren't even presented as choices, they're all grayed out moments asserting that you can't defy her, you've tried everything and it doesn't work, there's no way out. It's really cool. Speaking of, the first time I met the Entity, I chose to wait, and then wait forever. And the game lets you do that, but cautions that forever is a long time and you're not going to make it. It then boots you to a home screen with like a dozen iterations of "Continue," all of which lead you back to the Entity going "Told you, so we resetting or not?" Those moments were really fun.

I'll definitely be playing again, especially now that I have some idea of what some of the hints mean. I'm still not sure about "Find the Tower" and access to some of the routes I've yet to see at all, but I have some ideas to try before I cave and start asking for answers. I'm really enjoying it.

[glitter-stained]

" if I give you my firstborn child will you write this fic?"

While I very much appreciate the sentiment, I don't have the budget to take care of myself, let alone a child right now. Have you considered compensating me with money? I have a kofi now!

[cherrychilli]

18+ Eddie Munson x f! reader, idiot friends to lovers, not exactly a meet cute because they already know each other but it's also not not a naughty little meet cute if you get me, face sitting, 69 just not in the way you might think(yet), lots of horny flirting, mentions of blood, minor injury and one tiny meta reference I couldn't help but slip in. WC: 2K

Say what you will about Carol Perkins but the girl's got one hell of an arm. You stare with simmering contempt in your eyes at your purse wedged between the branches of an old, towering hickory several many feet above your head.

You're not surprised by it though. You expected some kind of retaliation after your little spat when you caught her trying to shoplift lip gloss at the cosmetics counter you worked at.

Word travelled fast after that, everyone snickering about how she tried to pull a Winona. Unfortunately for you, the incident wasn't enough to make her swear off five finger discounts. Her sticky little fingers managed to get hold of your purse when you had your back turned for only a few seconds the next day, a crudely scrawled note left behind which read, Come to the woods behind the school if you want your knock off Gucci back.

So you went there anticipating some fight club type of shit to go down. You really couldn't rule that out with a person like Carol, an old school bully to many who went to Hawkins High, especially those unlucky enough to have actually felt the fiery sting of her open palm against their cheek.

Only you were kind of looking forward to this meeting. Now a graduate and a little fired up yourself, you didn't need to worry about anything like a potential expulsion if you were to strike her back, fixing the rings on your fingers so that if you needed to, you could scratch open her chin when you uppercut the bitch.

But Carol wasn't there, a little to your disappointment. Only her handiwork left behind for you to deal with.

So now here you were, a crackling carpet of brittle yellowed and browned leaves crunching under your converse as you try to figure out the best way to go about retrieving your purse, hoping she hadn't also swiped any of the money inside it.

Looking around, you can't seem to spot a stick long enough to try and dislodge it, all of them far too short and skinny like bony witch fingers. The few rocks you try to aim at the thing missed every time too, purse still firmly in place.

So, you knew what needed to be done.

It's been a while since you last scaled a tree but you haven't forgotten how, hiking the skirt of your flared midi dress higher up your thighs while you reach for the closest branch, dry bark crumbling in your palms.

You're as careful as can be, taking your time to test every branch before you bear your full weight down on it, winding your way higher and higher up the thick gray trunk as you remind yourself to not look down.

Sweat beads down your back making your dress stick to your skin and your hands began to feel raw halfway through the climb so the relief you feel when you finally reach your purse is immense. Freeing one hand to pop open the clasp, you're able to confirm that Carol had in fact pinched a 50 which you very much intend to get back with interest before you toss her purse into the middle of lovers lake.

Clamping your teeth down on your purse, you begin your descent, following the exact path you took to get up it only you make it just a few inches lower when you hear a distinct dry snap followed by the shifty sound of footsteps. Two sets of footsteps making their way through the fallen leaves in fact.

Quietly, you sit yourself down on a thick branch that looks strong enough to hold you up, your legs dangling as you try to remain hidden behind the greener leaves yet to turn a shriveled yellow and break off from its branches. The thought of being caught like this is something you're not keen on. Especially at the risk of giving whoever it is an unobstructed up skirt view of your panties.

You hold your breath until they comes into view, recognition dawning on you when you set your eyes on the familiar combo of leather and denim and a very distinct tumbleweed of wild hair.

Eddie Munson, your old classmate and some letter jacket meat slab following in tow. The two of them sit across from each other at the formerly vacant wooden table and bench below, the tinny sound of Eddie's lunchbox echoing all the way up to your ears when he sets it down between them.

You watch quietly and closely at them going back and forth when Eddie quotes his price for a considerably large portion of the devil's lettuce all wrapped up in a thin, flimsy little plastic bag, a little amused seeing him all business and no jokes or smiles. There must be a party happening tonight, you deduce, that much weed too much for just the one person, even for a guy as big and hulking as Eddie's new customer.

The meat slab is the first to leave after digging through his pockets for a few extra dollars until Eddie hands him the stuff, trudging away through the crisp layer of dried up leaves until his footsteps turn muffled and then completely silent to let you know that he's no longer in the woods.

Eddie lingers for a few moments, apparently in no kind of rush as he takes his time closing up the lunch box, pulling out a cigarette and lighter as he gets up from the bench, just about to pass by your tree when-

crack!

The branch you'd perched yourself on wasn't as strong as you thought it to be when it snaps, a choked scream stuck in your throat with your teeth still wrapped around your purse when you lose your balance, your eyes squeezing shut as you plummet.

The impact knocks the wind out of you at first. Luckily you hadn't hit any of the other branches on your way down but a pulsing dull ache weaves it's way through your muscles, your palms and knees dirty and scraped up but your face seems to have landed on something much softer.

When you try to pick yourself up, you find yourself face to face with a pair of black denim jeans, the zipper somehow upside down as your hands press down on a pair of meaty thighs while you try to steady yourself.

You rock back just a bit, still trying to figure it all out with your head all spinny when feel your clothed pussy come to rest on something hard, a puff of hot air blown right into your panties with a muffled exclamation sounding out.

The way you scramble away is almost comical, so frantic like a severed gecko's tail when you figure out that you'd fallen right on top of Eddie, your face in his crotch and his in yours.

"Oh my god oh my god, I didn't mean to- are you okay? Eddie I'm so sorry!"

He's far less jittery than you are, propping himself up on his elbows with a little groan, leaves tangled in his hair, his lunchbox knocked onto its side behind him. The fall had made him bite his cigarette in two, one end lying on the forest floor before it's joined by the other when Eddie spits it out of his mouth. You manage to find his lighter nearby, picking it up and handing it back to him.

"Still in one piece", he pats his chest and he huffs a laugh, placing the lighter back inside his jacket pocket. "Could get used to this. It's not everyday that it rains pretty women."

The flirt. Just as he'd been with you in high school though you're not sure whether to be charmed or embarrassed given the circumstances. So both emotions manage to sneak in before you can decide on which one.

"I- my purse- Carol, see she tried to shoplift, right? I caught her and so my purse-", you find it just behind you, holding it up in front of Eddie's face as you continue to explain. "She lifted it before I could notice and she tossed it all the way up there," you point up at the spot you fell down from. "I slipped. I tried to stay quiet while you were busy but the branch broke and my foot slipped and..."

And what? "I'm sorry I sat on your face, Eddie? It won't happen again?" God, you felt so stupid right now.

"Woah woah, take a breath. It's not like I'm going to press charges or anything", he assures you.

You knew he wouldn't do anything of the sort. Eddie was always nice to you. Still is it seems, even after you so rudely and abruptly body slammed into him so damn hard. Maybe your luck's starting to turn. Or maybe it's just because he's in a good mood after a big sale... Yeah, that must be it.

Feeling a little better about the whole thing, you manage to get yourself back on to your feet even if a little unsteadily, holding a hand out to Eddie so you can help him up too. He accepts it at first but when his eyes fall to your knees his hand slips free from yours.

"You're bleeding", he notices.

Looking down, you see that he's right, two open cuts on both knees. Nothing serious but the blood is yet to clot, trailing down your legs in thin red lines and staining your socks.

You don't have anything on you to help dab it with, looking around when Eddie begins to shed his denim vest.

"It's clean, promise. Took it out of the laundry this morning"

The gesture is so sweet, watching him attentively as he kneels at your feet. You attempt to help too, picking the leaves out of his hair because it's the least you could do while he carefully cleans away the dirt on your skin. The feeling of his hand wrapping around your calf to steady himself is nice too, pressing the denim against your wounds so gently that you barely hiss at the sting.

"Doesn't look too bad. That's a good thing. You always had nice legs".

Your face could not feel any hotter than it already feels right now. At this angle, he might even be able to catch another glimpse or two up your skirt again but this time you don't mind at all. He's earned it.

"Thanks", you tell him with a smile, your toes curling in your socks because there's something so nice about being taken care of after the the whole thing with Carol that it makes you want to shiver with delight.

In the past you knew not to take him too seriously just in case he was only being nice to you but at the same time, Eddie was never one to be shy or less than honest about what he thought or said. Maybe you just had trouble accepting that and in turn, accepting that you were more than deserving of that kind of attention.

"You shouldn't be walking around like this. I could give you a ride if you're cool with that", he offers when he looks back up at you, the deep brown of his eyes now a light cinnamon with the sun spilling down on his face from between the branches.

"Yeah, I'd really appreciate that", you accept eagerly.

The drive back to yours is more than pleasant, though you'd never actually lost touch it was nice for two high school friends like you to reconnect on a new level. Eddie even joins you in trashing Carol a bit too though now you feel you might actually owe that thieving venom spitting cobra of a woman a little thank you.

What were the chances of this all happening? the both of you in the same place at the same time, your branch giving way the exact moment he got closer to you? no sooner, no later. Whatever the reason might be, today feels kind of special.

"Sorry I messed up your vest", you hold up the bloody thing tentatively when he pulls up outside your house.

"You kidding? 's the best its ever looked. Pretty hardcore"

You giggle at that, part of you realizing that you don't want to leave his van, trying to stall and find a reason to stay a little longer and keep whatever this is becoming going.

Eddie looks back at you pensively as you do so.

He doesn't want you to leave either. He thinks about how absurdly fast he'd gone from securing a deal like any other day to having his nose buried in your panties out of nowhere. If he doesn't act just as fast he might never get this opportunity again.

"Y' know, I wouldn't mind seeing even more of you next time", he smiles, somehow coming on more sweetly suave than sleazy like you would find any other man who would say so.

"Eddie Munson, you hound", you play scold him back, swatting him gently on the arm. Any excuse to touch him. You can't help noticing how nice and firm it feels under that dark layer of leather.

Honestly, Eddie's a little surprised himself that his charm's actually working too but manages to keep it up.

"So, what do you say? dinner? movie?", he suggests hopefully.

"Sure. Dinner, movie and then, when you come back to mine, maybe we can pick up where we left off from when I was on top of you", you wink back.

[sparda-soully]

DMC cast with Umbre Witch!/Bayonetta! S/O Part 1

Cast: Dante, Vergil, Nero, V,and Urizen (Will be doing the girls next time!)

"The Umbre never fails!"

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

♡ Dante Sparda ♡

This man does not know how he managed to pull someone let alone an Umbre Witch such as yourself

The first meeting between yall was when he was called for a "demon" problem but was greeted with a bunch of destruction caused by invisible forces (thought it was ghosts)

"Angels? They exist?", will probably be his first thought when he saw a bright light beaming down on him as angels descended down gracefully

Bud was in a TRANCE when he saw a tall individual with a tight bodysuit hugging their body fighting these abominations known as Angels with guns (Does his eyes deceived him or are their guns attached to your heels?)

He will probably joined in to get close to the strange yet attractive witch (The angels HATED it because Dante smelt of a demon)

"So, what's a tall, fine looking glass such as yourself doing around these parts of town?", he inquired, adding a pinch of flirting to his words. Wielding his beloved Ebony & Ivory, he projected bullets towards the group of Affinities. The Umbre Witch gaze over at the red demon, hitting every Applaud and Affinities with great precision. "Well if isn't the Son of Sparda, thought you'll be taller. Never expected you to use those cheap toys", their sultry voice reached his ears. He could sense that little smirk of theirs

Doesn't know whether he should be offend you call his precious handguns cheap toys or be aroused by your voice and the way you sway your body around as if you were some kind of succubus

Definitely used a sort of pick up line after the battle but it will be so bad that the only sound you could hear were crickets. (Dante is trying his best y'all, he's just nervous and messed up)

Surprisingly, the two of you kept meeting up whenever there was trouble brewing between you and the Angel of Paradiso

These meetings lead to a mutual understanding between y'all, building a shocking good friendship that soon blossom into a beautiful romance between a half hybrid and an Umbre Witch

Be prepare to let this man be all over you because he is TOUCH-STRAVED. Will be hugging and cuddling you for hours and won't let go. At least you got yourself a nice teddy bear! (He's the little spoon)

He'll be completely in awe whenever you're fighting. The way your figure danced and the seductive suggestions you make stirs something within him

He will be caught off guard if you're summoning your demon contracts like Gomorrah or Madame Butterfly, because your bodysuit disappeared and a swirl of h/c hair surrounds your naked body, covering your private parts while leaving your gloves, shoes, and watch visible

He got turned on at the mere sight of your almost bare body.

Finds out your bodysuit is just your hair which makes him wonder the logic behind it, in the end, his brain got fried by the complexity of it

Will definitely want to make a demon contract with you just so he can appear whether if it's dealing with a Beloved and Fortuna or just having smexy time with you

Loves dancing with you! You matched his flamboyant, outgoing personality and style. Hell, y'all be dancing while fighting Grace and Glory along with some demons like Abyss and a Queen Empusa (Like when Cereza summoned Rodin and they danced)

The two of you will definitely trade weapons. You'll use Cerburus while he'll use Shuraba

Will give you a ride on his motorcycle, Cavaliere and have a joy ride and showing off the places and scenery Redgrave has to offer

Expect the dates to somewhat be cheap but filled with love and care put into it. On your first date, he found a nice, peaceful scenery by the woods and order pizza with two bottles of red wine

His bills will sometimes be pay by you because you be making that money like that (We love a girl boss 🤞). He always (50/50 chance) return the favor one way or another

It's surprising seeing someone taller than him as he stands at 190 cm but he LOVES it. He's infatuated with you, always staring up at you and slipping a few glimpse at your chest while rubbing the stubbles on his chin. (Loses his mind when you dominant him and-, Dante...why are you on your knees..?)

Honestly, it still fathoms him how he managed to pull you but is very grateful for you. Loves you to death and will do anything you ask!

♤ Vergil Sparda ♤

Vergil felt challenged at the mere sight of you. Something was immensely off about your aura...

The first meeting was probably at a café shop that was known for its good tea and numerous books. The moment you step foot into the café was the moment Vergil took his eyes off of his poetry book

The long strides you made, swinging your hips to the side and sauntered with confidence just added more to his suspension (He's already fallen under your spell, it's love he's feeling)

Somehow, your boisterous flare sparked and left a mark within his cold heart...He didn't know what happen but the two of y'all were chatting passionately about poetry. 'What were you? A witch or something?', he ponders, maintaining that seldom expression as he scrutinizes you

Ironically enough, he was right. He found out when you displayed such ferocious strength against your battle with two Ardors (He just sat there, watching you tossed and used wicked weave on the red armor angels)

Just seeing you battle made him motivated to display his strength and power in front of you

He will join your battle and utilize Yamato, slicing and dicing Gracious and Glorious, tearing down the tricky angels with great accuracy (These angels are known for being quite challenging)

He will definitely interfere with your battles; instead of you fighting them, he'll be the one fighting them. Don't bother trying to argue with him about it, he's already taken down five Harmony and the Fearless, Fairness duo

The only reason he's doing it is to display his extraordinary power, to prove that he's truly the Dark Knight and some mere angels will not make a fool out of Sparda's kin

Another reason is because of demon traditions. Being in the Underworld for a long time and dedicating his time in studying his demon origins, he found out a common courting practice conducted in hell was for demons to fight and show off their strength to their desired mate in hopes of winning them over

Looks like his courting technique help him as he managed to pull the Umbre Witch

The deep navy blue blade came in contact with the black scabbard, returning safely to its cozy home. His back faced the angels once he landed on the gravel ground. Screams of Garcious and Glorious echoed the arena, filling the quietness with screeches; a blinding light emerged from them as they combusted into halos and feathers.

"How utterly weak. They serve as servants and protecters of humanity yet they hardly done anything to me. Foolish angels", the kin of Sparda remove his fingerless glove off the tsukamaki. Soft giggles escaped from behind him. Turning his head a bit, he was greeted with a tall witch, hands on their hips as their gaze stared down at his blue eyes. "Vergil, you were the one to challenged them. My, are you trying to court me?", you mused, a smirk started to etched on your face. The ex Demon King of Hell didn't answer you, but the silence gave you an answer.

Amazed, you sauntered towards him and leaned down to his height. You whispered something to his ear and cat walked away, leaving Vergil alone with his cheeks dusted in the lightest yet soft hue of pink.

Since then, the two of you been taking on angels and occasionally demons along your journal. Vergil claims he wanted to know about the angel species hence to why he is traveling with you (Y'all are dating, he's just too..., stubborn to admit he wants to be by your side)

Will document the various angels he encounters in a small journal you gifted him. Watch him become Luka's father in a bit

Oh? You're reciting something in Enochian? Be expected to see him reading old, ancient books regarding that language. He will ask demand you to teach him the language. (He's constantly studying and practicing everyday!)

When you perform a torture attack, he'll be impressed as it represents a sort of human torture devices from human history. He'll be watching you as you do a torture attack while displaying your seductive, arousing gestures. Very interested in it and will write about it in his small journal

Oh boy, when you perform a demon summoning and your "clothes" vanished, he will be stun. He, being the gentleman he is, will try to cover your (almost) bare body with his blue coat. Like as soon as you do your summoning, a blue coat is draped around your shoulders, shielding your naked body and curves from any prying eyes. (The only eyes that'll be looking at your figure is Vergil's as he's just standing there with his arms crossed, staring at you with his normal stoic expression)

Demands you to make a demon contact with him to show people your his and he's yours. He'll be proud if you summon him, gladly fight for you but won't outright say it. Just knowing that your his "mate" (his demon urges is skyrocketing rn) makes him feel blessed and content; he just claims you as his just like his books and katana (HA! Take that Dante!)

Dates will be either be in a quiet place away from humans or in a café. If he's being fancy enough, he'll take you to an expensive restaurant

Sparing and relaxation will be the highlights of yall's quality time toghter! Just be prepare because Vergil won't go easy on you. He knows you're powerful so why should he hold back? He wants to be at an equal level with you

Wanna see him flustered? Activate your Witch Time during your sparring and press various kisses on him. The best part is, he can feel your lips all over his face. There you go! Now you have the Dark Slayer glancing away from you, rosy pink dusted his cheeks accompanying him with red lipstick you imprinted on his face

Your height difference clearly made the blue demon felt like he was being challenged. You being taller than him? Haha, as if that'll stop him for being the dominant one in this relationship. He needs to uphold his infamous status, he won't be submissive (Okay...maybe sometimes if he's feeling strangely friendly)

◇ Nero Sparda ◇

Nero didn't really care about you when you first appeared in the church; he was just laying back, jamming to his music as he dazed off

Although, when you approached him, your tall stature and nun outfit seemingly cause him to snap out of his trance

Your sultry yet angelic voice definitely caught his attention as he can't seem to avert his gaze away from you

Will act like you didn't affect him in a way but its so obvious that the anti-social, hot-headed teen was admiring you, practically following you like a lost puppy

Whenever he's helping you with whatever, he'll try to start up some conversation like, "Where are you from?" Or "Why are you a nun here on this nobody island ?" Of course he received the same answer, "Quite the curious type lil pup? Next time dear". (He's pissed off you called him a pup but doesn't expressed his anger towards you)

Somehow, he's been spending more time with you without realizing it. From helping you carry stuff to socializing with you

One night, you and him were at the isolated parts of the town, gathering supplies The Order needed. What started off as a peaceful night shifted drastically to a slightly noisy one as some petty angels decided to ruin yall's quality time

Originally, Nero thought they were demons but with the bright light, angelic sounds, and them descending down with grace, he immediately knew they were angels. 'Wait, angels existed? Why are they coming towards us? Is our time up?', will probably be the thoughts circulating in his head. Oh Nero, if you knew they weren't coming towards you, rather a particular nun standing next to you

When he saw their weapons, his first instincts was to protect you, pull out Blue Rose, and shoot warning shots at them. Before he could, your voice rang out in your normal tone as if you weren't bother by their appearance. 'Were nuns this comfortable when they come face to face with servants of God?'.

One minute you were standing next to him, the next you were in the air, grabbing their legs and tossing them around like a rag doll. He didn't know what to do: should he help you or stay in place? Wait a minute...WHY ARE YOU FIGHTING THEM!?

He tried to call you but couldn't help but admired the way your form moves in the air; it was a sight for sore eyes. But he snaps out of it and rushes in to assist you

Sounds of shearing caught his ears which made him averted his gaze towards you. His eyes widened when he realized your white, pristine outfit ripping with every strike the Affinities launched towards you; it didn't helped that you were moaning

His face is bright red, eyes gawking at your figure. He thought nuns were classy, religious but nah, here you were being seductive and moaning with no shame at all. (He's a hormonal teenage y'all bare with him plz; his thoughts about you being the ideal nun was flushed down the drain)

Once your clothes were torn, you pulled them off, standing naked in view. Luckily (or not) a shadow casted over you before your hair latched itself on your body, turning into your tight bodysuit. At least you have some clothes on. And here you go fighting angels as if it was the most casual thing ever

Blood splattered on the cold cobblestone pavement. Gunshots rang throughout the area, followed with some shrieks and cries. The Umbre Witch sent a kick towards an Affinity, weaving about while projecting bullets towards the other enemies. The Holy Knight assisted the witch, striking and plunging angels below him with his brilliant revolver. The two didn't made much conversation, only focusing on their targets in front of them. Although, one of them breaks the tense atmosphere

"You should use that arm of yours, pup. It'll be more effective on them", they mentioned, glancing at the Devil hunter. Nero scoffed, covering his abnormal right arm futher in his cast as he delivered bullets and kicks to the angelic targets.

"Don't come talking about that when we're dealing with these what angels. Why are they here?! Why are you so calm?! What are you?!", he barked questions after questions, clearly being in his hot-tempered state. Giggles erupted from your lips. "Be patient puppy". "I'M NOT A PUPPY!".

After your small battles with the Affinities, Nero begin to demand answers about what the hell was all of this. So, you ended up telling him everything which seemed to calm him a bit

After the whole ordeal, angels will be an occasional thing in his life now all thanks to you! But these battles with them brought you two closer. I guess shredding bloodshed on angelic beings can stimulate a relationship

You manged to convince him to accept his demon arm which he gladly embraced! You help him with his abilities and even gave him advices on how he can perfect it

Sparring will be a common thing between y'all! The two of you will sneaked off into the woods and practice for a while until Nero is tired out

Nero finally court you after the incident between a red demon, the Order, and their attempts to take over the world! (Dante, Lady, and Trish were just standing there as they watch the stubborn yet now bashful teen express his love to you, smiling at his sudden change in behavior)

He'll be asking all sorts of question regarding your witch origins. From your watch to demon summonings and abilities. If he had such features of a dog, his tail will be rapidly wagging as his ears perked up in interest

Expect to receive gifts from him! He just wants to spoiled you even though he knows you have the money to spoil yourself and him

Sneaking off will be a common thing between y'all. Either you will be ditching Luka or him stepping away his Holy Knight duties and quickening his missions. Sigh...such young love

Common dates will be sauntering around the town, visiting shops and cafés or it'll be in the woods, the two of you enjoying nature and the tranquil atmosphere

When he got his haircut and out grew his teen face, he thought he wouldn't get tease by you anymore. Unfortunately, his new appearance made you tease him more. You still called him a puppy which he is pissed at but couldn't help but love that silly nickname you persistent on keeping

He will take you on his missions with demons and explored new areas with you, taking your hand gently and gesturing you around the foreign area

♧ V ♧

He thought you were an angel in his eyes....ironic enough, you were the opposite of that

He woke up in your apartment, confusion written all over his face as a rather large yet soft blanket covered his body

When he finally sat up, memories surfaced up from last night; realizing that he passed out due to overworking himself with that Nidhogg suddenly popping out of nowhere

"Ah, you're finally awake", a voice called out to him, making him direct his gaze to where that voice was. There you were, sitting on a chair with...Shadow laying against your chair with Griffon sitting on your table.

"V, thank goodness you're awake! This crazy minx tried to cook me!", the black hawk squawked, pointing his wing at you. "Decitful hag!", he exclaimed. A smirk tugged your lips. "Such a foul mouth you have, perhaps I should punish you, how about feeding you to my little pets hm? Or having all those feathers of yours pluck out", a dangerous glint shimmered in your eyes, making the demon shut up quickly. Grumbling underneath his breath, he swiftly flew over to his owner and perched on his shoulder.

The man glanced around the apartment, taking in everything before shifting his gaze back to you. "Where am I?", he asked. "You're in my apartment, dear. Found you resting along the cold dirt peacefully", you answered, standing up from you seat which caused the cat demon to opened her eyes. V couldn't help but stare at you with keen interest; you had a weird aura surrounding you, and you weren't faze by the two demon familiars. Before he could say nothing else, a finger was placed on his lips. "Save the chit-chat for later and drink this", you offer him a glass of water. Griffon scoffed at you while Shadow came sauntering towards you, rubbing her head towards your leg. Who are you?

From there, conversations occured ranging from who you were to somehow poetry much to Griffon's annoyance. Although, all he receives from you was vague and vise versa (Ah don't we love the mysterious types)

Weirdly enough, the two of y'all become friends because of your mysterious (attractive) behaviors and somehow, you mingled your way into his life

V was wondering why you weren't so perplexed at his demon companions, weren't you human as well? Surely you'll be afraid of these abnormal creatures. And yet here you were petting Shadow's head and grooming Griffon's feathers (Which was revolutionary)

Sooner than later he acquired his answer when he came face with a...few Joys. Griffon and Shadow emerged out, beginning to attack them without V's commands. V was in utter shock, these were angelic beings? Have they came to atone him for his sins on behalf of his demon half? (Nah, they just scented a familiar aura on him from a certain witch)

Immediately, a wide curled ribbon of metal came whizzing towards him. Before he could call Shadow, a dark rose gold barrel of a gun collided against the metal ribbon. "You certainly won't get a man if you're throwing attacks at him", V's eyes widened when he heard your voice. Turning his head behind him, he noticed your stature looming over him

Surely enough, the Joy begin to thrashed the whip around, aiming at you relentlessly. You dodged it effortlessly, performing Witch Time and sending Wicked Weave towards the feminine being. As soon as V blinked, the being groaned loudly before bursting into a bright beam of light, blinding him which made him raise his arm over his eyes

Once the Joys were finally dealt with, halos and feathers scattered over the grass. Soon enough, both Griffon and Shadow returned to V's side. Shadow looked like she was ready to pounce on you while Griffon raise his wings, ready to sent a Blockade attack at you. "I knew it! You wicked bitch!", Griffon squawked which made you amused. "Perhaps I should feed you to Gomorrah. He'll be thrilled trying something new rather than souls and angels", your smile become a dangerous smirk. "Oh you!-".

V managed to calm the situation down, easing his familiars and keeping you at a safe distance from you. He finally inquired about what you were but you gave him a smile. You crouched down, placing your gloved hand over your maroon lipstick lips and blow a kiss towards him...or so it seems. Trio of heart projectiles blew passed him (one landed on his cheek) and shattered the angelic seal behind them, thus opening a small portal to Inferno. "Ask your little pets, it seems I must be off my way", you explained before sauntering away and disappearing

V placed a hand on his cheek, confusion etched his face as he stood there, collecting his thoughts. Slowly, he removed his palm, placing it down to his side; however, a light shade of pink dusted his pale cheeks

Brushing that thought away, he averted his attention back on his familiars. "What was she talking about?", his cool, calm voice reached them. Griffon sighed but reluctantly explained to him that you were an Umbre Witch

Hm? A witch that has demon contracts? So you were like him in a way in some sorts. You were an enticing person while he was a fragile human half of his original self

Nonetheless, he felt a connection between you

After this meeting, he ended up visiting you at your apartment one day. Book in hand, reading and waiting for you to open the door

You revealing your true identity left an impression on V. He knew you were a stunning person, but now? His admiration he had for you deepened immensely

These visits became more frequent and it looks like his pets became very comfortable around you. Griffon kept squawking at you, trying to find a comeback at your passive aggressive threats; Shadow is always by your side, demanding some pats and attention like some house cat

You somehow ended up filling your bookshelves with poetry V recommended for you

Eventually, your relationship with him sparked up into the next level: boyfriend & girlfriend

Expected this man to be his mysterious, quiet self. He's not that opened up but will sometimes alluded to stuff about him and his past like that time he mentioned that roses was his mother's favorite flowers

The next day he was greeted with bundles of roses and a small note.

Dear V,

Roses are beautiful creations, it represents love and passion but it also means commitment, respect, admiration, and harmony. Your mother must've been a brilliant rose

Love, Your Favorite Witch

(There's a lipstick mark on the small envelope)

With each word he read, his lips tugged into a smile. It was a heart felt message from you which made him content. He kept that letter in his book, always rereading it whenever he's far away from you

You will accompanied him whenever he's venturing somewhere that in invasive with demons and possible angels lurking around. (Griffon complains about it but enjoys your witty remarks)

When V summoned Nightmare, you were taken back by his white hair appearing, getting rid of every strand of jet black. When the battle is done, you're just running your hand through his hair which soothe him greatly

Sometimes when his limbs gives up on him, you just carry him around as if he weighs like a pillow of feathers. You prefer carrying him bridal style, enjoying him against your body and stare at your chest. (V is trying his best not to look at them)

"Love and harmony combine, And round our souls entwine. While thy branches mix with mine, and our roots together join. Joys upon our branches sit, chirping loud and singing sweet; like gentle streams beneath our feet, innocence and virtue meet", V recited the printed words in that brown-gold, embroidered book. He smiled, before turning the page.

"Alright lover boy, cut it out! If you think slashing and decimating angels in horrific ways is innocent and virtue, THEN YOU'RE DELUSIONAL!", Griffon yells. In the distance, you summoned a large chainsaw and cleave through a Hamrony. Blood sprayed everywhere before exploding into a pool of blood. "She's truly one of a kind", V smiled at you

Cuddles will be a common thing as you'll drag him to bed so he can get some sleep; his body desperately needs it. You'll trace his tattoos with slow strokes with a hint of suggestion into them

V cherished every moment he has with you because he knows this body of his will crumble away if he doesn't come face with his demon half; he just hopes you'll understand this revelation and still love him even when he merged with Urizen, turning back into Vergil

¤《 Urizen 》¤

Urizen despise you at first glance. There standing in all of glory was you with your hands on your hips

You sauntered towards him without a care in the world. You're emulate confidence and flamboyance with just your walk. Why wasn't a mere human like you crumbling to their knees at the sight of him?

You had the audacity to ask him if he seen a certain platinum witch with a coy smile. Your answer was received with a Qliphoth root launched towards you at ridiculous speed; fortunately, you did a back flip, activating your Witch Time

"Is that the way you treat woman? No wonder why you can't get none", you passively insulted him, eyes meeting his face. You scanned him up and down, shamelessly checking him out. "Foolish woman, how dare you stand against a king", he glares down, teeth baring at you. An 'o' shaped form on your lips, making you placed your gloved hand over your lips. A smirk etched across your face. "On second thought..., perhaps you have a way of swaying women", you swirled your Scarborough Fairs in your hands. "Let's dance, baby! Hope you're ready for a bloody coronation!", you winked at the demon king.

The battle continued for a while without no interruption. The both of you kept up with each other; you dodging the pillars of blue flames beneath you while that red crystal counter all of your Wicked Weave and bullets. Eventually, you realized that you're still looking for your Umbre sister

With a final attack, you swiftly perform some backflips to distance yourself from him. "Sorry big boy, but a friend is waiting for me", you placed your hands on your hips. A scorn growl erupted from the king. "You dare walk away from this skirmish. I'll have your head as compensation", his claw scratched his throne as the other remained on his cheek. You laughed at his declaration. "Is that the way you show people you're interested in them? Don't worry, I'll leave a parting gift", with that, you blew a kiss at him, winking before disappearing from his imposing domian

The mystery surrounding you, a human left him feeling a myriad of emotions: bloodlust, anger, and loathing coursed his demon blood, but wonder and a dash of aroused stirred his heart

You kept your end of your promise and showed up again after a week or so later. "How peculiar. Do you wish to yield and relinquish your fate, Umbre Witch?", he inquired, multiple eyes piercing down at you. "No I just missed you that's all", it seems like your answer earn a quiet sneer from him

Somehow, some way, Urizen didn't attack you; rather he observed you, scrutinized your stature and style. Tight bodysuit, odd guns strapped to your heels, a watch on the opening gape of your chest. Such a weird outfit a human wore. "Hm? My eyes are up here big shot", you called out

Heels clicked the miscolored root ground as small butterflies flew from you. You stand in front of him, hands on hips as you stared up at him. Dear, he is massive

Small talks emerged with you starting off first with Urizen sometimes replying or just listening to you. These random meetings somehow but amusing lead to a mutual bond between you: an alluring witch and the new Demon King

Urizen started to see you less as a weak human and more of a human who is stronger if not powerful than all of humanity. Of course his pride and position refused to acknowledge that you might have the chance to defeat him

These talks made Urizen understand or get a good idea of what emotions are. Happiness, sadness, frustration, pesky human emotions. Yet it seemed he may have been too keen on two things: admiration and curiosity. It's a weird feeling and he experienced it whenever he's by you. Soon, that admiration and curiosity led to love

He hated it; these galling sensations makes you weak. He refused to succumb to such disease. He was the Demon King, he needs power, not love. But he couldn't help but feel his demon blood coursing through his veins about the idea of having you as his mate

Thats the solution. In order to satisfy his infatuation for you and his power hungry desire, why not make you his mate? It's a demon's instinct to display ferocious power to a desired mate and court them, thus making them there's

One day, he abruptly cut off your words and command ask you to be his mate. If you disagree then he shall keep you here forever until you comply. Fortunately for him, you agreed but mentioned to tone down his tone when it came to demon customs which earned you a huff

This demon expects you to be by his side 24/7. You're going to be his queen after all, so why would you want to venture out of this humble domain and into what's left of Red Grave?

A queen must need a throne next to the king right? That could be improvise...but of course this is Urizen we are talking about. He'll have you sitting on his lap, more like his thick rooted layer thigh

He'll make sure you won't fall off his thigh with the help of Qliphoth roots. Just to be clear it'll be nearly impossible to get off his thigh. If you however wanna get off of him, he'll be a stubborn ass and refused to let you leave

The height difference is immensely noticeable. You stand at 8 feet while he's like 20 feet at best (I saw someone said he's like 20 feet and I'm going with that bc there's no sources confirming his height)

Performing affection such as hugs, kisses, and even sex is difficult because you know, he's enormous but y'all found a way to work it out. You'll kiss his rooted skin, caressing his skin which was surprisingly soothing to him. He won't admit it but he enjoys you peppering his cheek with kisses. Blowing a kiss and even dancing suggestively deepens his desire for you

He'll return the favor by picking you up and placing you in his palm, carefully and delicately brushing your face and hair with his long claw. Qliphoth roots will find its way to your body and caressed your body (you can take it as affectionate or....that way. Btw he could feel your curves and stuff!) He'll offer you heads of demons and even some halos of angels if their unfortunate souls found their way in his domain

He knew you were an Umbre Witch as soon as he saw you. You reeked of different, powerful demons that are well known in Inferno

He couldn't help but be annoyed and jealous that your soul was meant for them, not him. He wanted you to rely on him instead of your demon companions. But since its a contract, he couldn't break it no matter what. Yes, the Demon King couldn't interfere with demon contracts which greatly irritated him

Instead of fussing over it, he decided to display his extraordinary power and strength in front of you whenever opponents challenged him. He'll toy with them while delivering attacks to them. In his eyes, you'll be more willing to accept him more as his mate

Admires you whenever you demonstrated your power, although his demon instincts are telling him to make you rely on him instead of your power and abilities. He just wants you to be his submissive mate but even he knows that won't happen

He is determined to rule the world with you by his side, his pretty queen standing next to him. The perfect ideal dream will be fulfilled as soon as he consumed the Qliphoth Fruit. You shall be superior against every being and produce heirs to his throne (But that could only happen in another timeline though)

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Finally I'm done! Hope y'all enjoy this! Yes V's thing is long, I'm almost done with DMC 5 and this is my way of coping. I'm fine y'all

(I'm not).

All rights reserved!! | Please do not steal, claim, or plagiarized this as I put a lot of effort into this | Dec. 11, 2024 | ©Sparda-Soully

[writingfics-passingtime]

Need

synopsis: You and Loki have an understanding about what it means when you touch each other: sex, not intimacy. Heat, not warmth. Contact, but certainly not comfort. So when the lines are crossed, you both fight to keep them from blurring into something complicated.

based on this ask/prompt <3

pairing: Loki x reader (no pronouns used, but Loki calls reader "witch" once)

wc: ~4600

content warnings: MINORS DNI. fwb/casual sex, no explicit smut but sex is heavily alluded to (the door is closed but the walls are thin if you catch my drift), swearing, reader has anxiety & shame surrounding it, anxiety-driven compulsive behaviour (skin-picking), teasing/dirty talk, some very gentle tickling

Everyone is exhausted. A little too spent for ego. So the briefing is quiet, Hill actually getting through her points without wisecracks from the cheap seats.

Everyone else around the table dons a loose posture, listening as she drones through the aftermath - what went wrong, what almost went worse, how they’ll prevent it next time - but everyone just wants the feeling of hot carbs and clean sheets.

But you're not really there. You can’t hear a word of it. Shoulders too stiff, brow too tense, and your hands won’t stop moving.

Your fingers twist in opposite directions, knuckles pressing to discolouration, then released again. The skin along your palm stings faintly from earlier, from where you’d rubbed too hard in the washroom, trying to feel something that would ground you.

You don’t realize you’re doing it again now, subconsciously tearing at the callused line of your thumb with a ragged fingernail - until a moon-pale hand quietly places itself over yours beneath the table.

Your stomach turns, and you glance sideways a little too obviously.

But Loki doesn't look at you. His gaze is still on the debrief, his eyes unreadable and distant, but his fingers - they lace gently through yours, easing your hands apart with care that feels... foreign.

It's so different than the touch you’re used to with him.

His thumb brushes over your raw skin with an idle softness. Your breath catches. This is very different than the touch you’re used to with him; those late-hour slips into each others’ rooms, the desperate clash of breath when it’s been a while, the slow smirking gravity when it’s only been a day or two.

But it’s never tender. Never… this.

But you don’t pull away.

Instead, you let your fingers explore his. Smooth. Strong. Faintly scarred. His hand is warming from contact. You trace the tendons, the groove of his knuckles. The slight ridge of a scar at the base of his index finger.

And he lets you. He never flinches. He just stays still while your anxious fingers map him, committing his shape to your quiet collection.

You don’t say anything when the meeting ends, and neither does he. His hand leaves yours before you both stand, but even then… it’s a slow release. Like he’s giving you the choice to hold on. To keep him there.

You almost do.

An unlocked door means the other is welcome. And when you approach Loki's room later that night, the faint light beside the door handle is green.

You don’t knock when you slip inside his suite. You never do. And he never tells you to.

The door clicks shut, you flick the thumb-turn to lock it, and the hallway air vanishes - replaced by the warm, earthy scent of wood and silk and leather and magic that clings to the inside of Loki’s space.

The lights are low - just one bedside lamp, dimmed amber - no fire in the hearth tonight. His boots are by the door, his overcloak draped over a crushed velvet armchair. The walls sparkle with the flicker of half-burned candles dripping wax onto a polished stone dish. This room always looks like he's halfway between a battlefield and a throne.

He’s already in bed, propped against the headboard, a book in hand. Loose black pants, half-done button up shirt on top. He doesn’t look surprised to see you. He closes the book slowly, methodically, and sets it against his thigh, his gaze lingering on you, quiet but intense. The weight of it pressing hot against your skin.

You've showered. Cleaned the grime. Slipped into some shorts and a black tank that's slightly too short but not quite cropped. Your face is set with that look he knows well: hunger, that just barely hides how tightly you’re wound.

It’s never been spoken aloud - whatever this is. But the rules were understood early: no expectations, no confessions, no strings. Just stolen hours, harsh kisses, heated minutes or hours, controlled withdrawal. Never staying the whole night unless your legs were too tired to walk. Never touching unless it was about sex. There’d been words exchanged, yes, whispered filth and teasing and his unfair way with words, but never anything soft. Never anything real.

Loki watches you cross the room, and he doesn’t say anything.

He just extends a hand. An invitation. A command.

You slide into his lap with a breath that’s more exhale than greeting, your knees straddling either side of his thighs as you settle against him. The Compound is smooth walls and echoing cold, and the heat of his body is a relief - your loosen a little purely from the contact.

Your hands find his shoulders. His grip comes to your waist like a habit.

Not wasting time, you lean in, brush your lips over his throat, then murmur low against his pulse, "What are you reading?"

His hand flexes on your waist. "A reminder," he murmurs, "that even mortal novels can have... some semblance of value."

You smirk faintly, "God forbid." Then your mouth is on his neck, trailing heat in slow kisses, your hips shifting just enough to pull his breath from his lungs. Your hands begin to explore - shoulders, nape, then lower. Familiar territory. But when you lean back and reach for the buttons of his shirt, Loki catches your wrists.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just looks.

Then: "Your hands."

You glance down. The skin is still raw. Sore in places you hadn’t even noticed. Embarrassment flares in your chest, but you sniff a nervous breath and try to brush it off. "Yeah. New soap’s shit."

He doesn't buy it.

His thumbs run over the raw patches gently. You feel the hum of his magic as he mutters something under his breath - just enough to soothe the irritation, seal the skin. You inhale slowly. The sting fades. But you don’t look at him. You’re afraid of what might be in his eyes.

Loki tilts his head. "Why do you do this?"

Your eyes lift to meet his, caught. "It’s not on purpose."

"Fidgeting?" he asks.

You nod. "Yeah. Or- nerves. Habit, I guess. Happens before I notice."

He raises a brow. "Don't you mortals have some... soft hand-held object for this sort of thing?"

You let out a soft snort of laughter through your nose. "You mean a stress ball? Not really a good look for a trained operative."

"I disagree," he argues.

"Doesn’t matter. I don’t want or need people asking questions. Besides-" You reach up and run a slow finger along a button of his shirt, voice dipping, "-skin feels better. It’s warm. Real."

He doesn’t move. He just watches you, and you can feel him thinking. Calculating. Then, when your hands find each other again, tugging faintly against where they rest between you, he takes them. Gently. Firm.

"Use mine," he says.

You blink. "What?"

He nods once, unwavering. "If you need something to calm yourself, use my skin."

There’s heat in your stomach now, different from earlier. Something less urgent. Something deeper.

You scoff lightly, trying to shake it off. "What, like this?" You start to slide your fingers down, teasing, toward the waistband of his pants, but he catches your hands again.

He clicks his tongue, eyes half-lidded with amusement, and murmurs, "Always so eager to misbehave."

But he sees it. That flicker of unease still in your gaze. The way your hands keep twitching - moving, restless, desperate for contact, for anchor, but to not be seen reaching for it.

So he shifts, slightly, pulling you closer on his lap, and he slips your hands up beneath the hem of his shirt. Onto his stomach.

The heat is immediate. His skin is warm, firm, alive under your palms. Your breath catches.

"I said," he repeats softly, "use mine."

He presses your palms flat, and then gives you his trust - that you'll stay put - and he slides his hands over to your hips to rest there.

"Calm yourself."

The low timbre of his voice washes over you - it's that tone he uses when he's telling you what to do, and you're letting him, and you're listening, obeying - and it sends heat to your lower belly. But he doesn’t move further. Doesn’t press. Just lets you decide, in the silence, whether to explore him.

Tentatively, your thumbs stroke lightly along the lines of his abdomen, tracing the edges of muscle, the dip above his navel. You watch your hands move beneath the fabric. You can’t really see anything, but the feel of him - the steady rise and fall of his breath, the twitch of muscle when your fingers brush too close to the edge - it's grounding. Soothing. Real.

Your shoulders start to drop. You hadn't even realised they were so tight. So close to your ears.

Your lips part, about to say something - an apology, maybe, or a joke to defuse the moment - but he moves and gently guides your hands again. Up. Sideways. You follow. You trace. He watches you.

When the backs of your nails graze faintly along his ribs, his skin twitches. You blink. Your eyes lift to meet his. There’s a softness in his gaze. Curious, and patient.

But you see the edge there, too. The tension.

You draw a new pattern along his side. He twitches again. Involuntarily. The reaction makes your mouth quirk.

"Are you... ticklish?" you murmur.

Loki exhales through his nose. "Unfortunately."

You lift a brow. "You’re letting me tickle you?"

His voice is low. Unamused. "I’ll stop you if I must."

You start to reply - a teasing line already forming - but before the words make it out, your fingers brush a spot near the side of his ribcage and he lets out the tiniest, breathiest laugh.

You freeze.

He narrows his eyes. "Don’t start."

You shut your mouth, biting the inside of your lip to hold back your tease, and you keep going - gently, reverently - tracing the shape of him, letting the feel of his skin against your fingertips calm the anxiety still moving through your chest. And he lets you. Head leaned back against the headboard, breath steady but slow, his hands back on your hips.

Eventually, one of them slides up your back, warm and strong, not demanding - just there. Anchoring you.

And for the first time when you're alone and touching him, you don’t try to take it further.

Neither does he.

And it becomes a pattern. Routine. Ritual.

At first, it’s only when you’re anxious.

You don’t always mean to seek him out. Sometimes your hands just won’t stop moving - clenching, scraping, curling tight into fists - and you find yourself at his door before you realise you’ve crossed the Compound. Sometimes it’s after missions. Sometimes it’s after meetings. Sometimes it’s for no reason at all except that something in you buzzes, and nothing else seems to work.

You never have to explain.

When you open Loki's door and he sees it in your eyes. In your shoulders. He’s always quiet, always already holding out a hand.

The first time after that night, you kiss him like you want to go further - but he catches your wrists again. And this time, he doesn’t tease. He guides your hands under his shirt and murmurs, "Is this what you need?"

You hesitate. Then nod.

You don’t fuck that night. You don’t even kiss again. You just press your palms to his stomach while he sits there against the headboard, and let your fingers move lightly until your breathing evens. He watches you, saying nothing, one hand resting loose on your thigh.

The next time, he doesn’t wait for you to reach. As soon as he sees the tremor in your fingers, he lays beside you, pulls you in, guides your hands to his stomach, his ribs, the line where soft skin tightens over bone. "This," he says simply. "Only this."

You want to kiss him. You want to distract yourself the way you always have - through sex, through heat, through that physical power that lets you forget how small you sometimes feel. But if you're anxious, he stops you. Every time.

He says it quietly, kindly, but firmly enough that it holds.

And when you’re not anxious, it’s sex. Messy, hungry, clever sex. The kind you can’t stop thinking about for hours after. And he's infuriatingly good at it - at drawing heat from you with just a look, just a bite to your lower lip, just the sound of his voice at your ear when he says something filthy and chases the path of his words with his tongue. There’s magic, sometimes. Sometimes he lets you pin him. Sometimes, he holds your wrists above your head until your legs shake and you're gasp his name against his throat. It’s always good.

But you begin to learn the new rhythm:

Touch, when you’re restless. Pleasure, when you’re not.

He never mixes the two.

If your hands twitch, if your voice trembles, if you hesitate when you undress - he slows everything. Pulls you close. Presses your palms flat against him and murmurs, "Just this."

Sometimes it’s his abdomen again. Sometimes just one side. Sometimes you find yourself curled into him, tracing the angle of his collarbone or the curve of his neck. You learn his body like terrain, and he never stops you. Even when your hands drift over ticklish places. Even when he squirms.

He’s ticklish, yes - but never pushes you away. He lets you feel everything. Even that. Even his softness.

You come to crave the way he breathes through it. It's tight at first, then soft. You learn the way he ducks his head, tries not to laugh, but his mouth tugs at the corners. He doesn’t suppress that around you either. Not anymore.

One night, you’re both beneath the covers, facing each other.

You hadn’t meant to stay. You’d planned to slip away after. But his arm had found your waist and you hadn’t moved. Now your legs are tangled, and his chest is bare, and your hand is idly brushing against the edge of his hip.

Neither of you speaks.

Your fingers trace slow, deliberate patterns just under the hem of his pants, not teasing - just moving. You follow the ridge of his hip bone, up, around, back down. He’s warm. Solid. A heartbeat you can feel against your fingertips.

He’s watching you. You know he is. But you don’t look.

Instead, you smile - quietly, to yourself - when you feel him tense. Just slightly. Not because he’s aroused, but because he’s trying not to laugh.

You press a little harder.

Loki buries his face in the space between your neck and your shoulder, half a groan, half a breathless sound that almost counts as a laugh. His shoulders twitch.

Your grin widens. You keep going.

Your finger drags lazily around the line of his hip again. You feel his mouth part against your neck.

"Witch," he mutters low.

You smile, light and slow.

But then - just before he can shift and grab your hand - you move. Slip your fingers up his side and brush your thumb along the ridges of his ribs.

He laughs. Properly this time. A stifled, breathy sound into your neck, full of surprise and restraint. His hand flinches at your back like he’s going to retaliate, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he exhales. It sounds like he might say something, but he doesn't.

So you just let your thumb circle there again, lighter now, feeling the way his body reacts before he can control it. His twitch. His grin against your pulse. His held, stuttering breath.

The feeling of him not fighting you. Not fighting at all.

And it grounds you more than anything else.

You ease your hand away after a moment. Let your fingers trace lazy paths over his lower back instead. You feel him settle again. His breathing slows.

Then his arm curls more tightly around you, pressing your bodies close. Not possessive, not commanding. Just there.

You press your nose under his jaw and whisper, "Thank you. For this."

Loki doesn’t answer right away. But he brushes his knuckles along your spine.

A moment later, you feel his lips at your hairline, and a wordless exhale that might’ve been something like always.

Weeks pass.

And it works - whatever this strange, tender ritual of yours has become. The grounding touch. The feel of his skin under your hands. The way he offers it like a gift, like a secret only you’re allowed to hold. It helps.

You stop rubbing your hands raw. You stop waking with that buzz in your bones that only pressure and contact could tame.

You still come to him, often. But for something else.

For the other things. The late nights. The laughter. The sex.

Stealing away to each other’s rooms when it’s late and the halls are quiet.

You’ve kept that part of the rhythm, and it’s never less than what it was it's still good, still charged, still searing in a way you both chase with teeth and laughter. Some nights he’s rough with it, hungry, biting your neck and pinning your wrists with sharp fingers. Other nights it’s slower, more deliberate, his magic curling around your ankles while he draws you open inch by inch, whispering things into your mouth that make your knees weak for days after.

And you always leave when the air cools. So does he.

That’s the rule.

It’s been almost two months since your hands needed to glide against his ribs to steady your breath. You haven’t brought it up. And neither has he.

Until tonight.

You’re both already in his room. You’d kissed him the moment the door clicked shut behind you - lazy, heated, with the kind of tension that had been building all day. He was still dressed in one of those soft, half-buttoned shirts you liked to tear off his shoulders, and he looked every inch the pleasure you wanted.

You think that’s what this will be. What it always is. What you both agreed to without really ever saying the words.

But as you're moving towards the bed with his lips on your neck, he slows. Stills. He pulls back, steps past you toward the bar cart by the dresser.

It doesn't phase you. He always offers a drink unless you're both too feral to consider it.

He pours. Amber liquor, smooth and dark. Two glasses. His shoulders shift with each motion, strong and elegant and familiar.

"I take it you’re here to be properly humbled."

You hum as you walk slowly past his bed, fingers brushing the edge of his blankets. "Something like that."

But then - without turning - he says, "Have you learned how to deceive me?"

You tilt your head. "Hmm?"

He turns, holding out the glass to you. You take it, brows lifted. His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes are steady.

"You’ve seemed better," he says. "No trembling hands. No sleepless pacing outside my door. I haven’t had to pry your fingers open in weeks."

Your subconscious works faster than your thoughts. His tone. His stance. That look in his eye; this... this is delicate.

"And... you think I'm hiding my stress. From you."

He lifts the glass to his lips, faintly lifting one brow, "I'm not sure." He takes a sip. Still watching.

You lean back slightly, inspecting him over the rim of your drink as you lift it. Shrug with one shoulder. "I've been good. Haven’t really needed... just that." A beat. Then, lightly, "Which means it probably worked."

You take a sip. He watches your throat dip as you swallow.

He’s quieter than usual. You see something shift behind his eyes. He’s trying to keep it casual, but his voice is a touch too careful when he says, "Well, perhaps it would be wise to preempt your need. Rather than wait for the fallout."

Your eyes narrow a little. You know him too well. You do. You see it now - that flicker of vulnerability underneath the dry amusement.

Your mouth curls. Slow and satisfied and with an edge of endearment. No taunting.

"You miss it."

Loki scoffs softly, eyes flashing. He opens his mouth, probably to deflect - but before the words can form, you step forward and say again, quiet but sure:

"You miss it."

He gives you a look. A classic Loki look - arched brow, faintly offended, the kind that used to hold bite. But there’s no venom in it now. He takes another drink instead of answering, drains the glass, then turns away under the pretence of pouring another.

But his hands are too still. Too deliberate.

You follow him, stepping forward, placing your glass down beside his. Then you reach out. Slide your hands under his shirt, up his back. Skin to skin.

He tenses.

Your fingers move slow and steady, tracing the hard lines in his shoulders.

"You can ask for this too, you know."

He swallows. You feel it.

His voice is low, rough. "You're here for a reason."

"Mmm." Your hands keep moving, up towards the place his neck and shoulders meet.

He holds his ground. "And I intend to ensure you are thoroughly well-fu-"

His breath catches when your nails graze down the length of his back, one hand either side of his spine.

You let out another small hum, hands dipping lower - one trailing along his back, the other skimming around his waist. Slow. Soft.

"You’re tense," you murmur.

He shifts, barely, and says with a tighter edge, "Yes. I'm thinking of some very clever new ways to make you beg. Perhaps I'll-"

But before he can finish, before the rising insecurity in him has the chance to retreat into that mask of sex and heat and pleasure, your voice cuts in.

"-Loki, I... I know there's a line," you say, your body now pressed lightly against his back. "We haven't talked about it. But it's there. Between sex and... this."

Your hands keep moving. One traces the space around his navel, light as a whisper. The other follows the ridges of his abdomen, brushing over the firm shape of him.

"But," you breathe, "maybe that line doesn’t need to stay so sharp. Maybe it can blur, and that can be okay. Maybe... it doesn’t have to be complicated."

Loki’s head dips forward slightly. His hands clench on the edge of the dresser.

Your lips brush his upper back, and you whisper:

"Maybe it's all just need."

His whole body twitches when your fingers graze a more sensitive spot along his ribs. That familiar, involuntary reaction.

He lets out a slow breath, like it’s burning him not to move.

"Come to the bed," you ask. "Let me do this." Your fingers curl more deliberately now, tracing lazy patterns across his stomach. "And then you can make me beg. After."

Loki lifts his head. His weight shifts beneath your hands as he turns. Eyes searching yours - perhaps looking for mockery, for game, for an angle. But there's none. Just steadiness. Sincerity. Heat. Just your hands on him, slow and sure.

Something melts behind his eyes. Something gives.

You drag your hand up, and press your palm gently to the centre of his chest.

Then you nod once, subtle, and step back. Taking his hand.

He lets you lead him to the bed.

The room feels quieter now. He sinks onto the edge of the mattress like he’s unsure if this is indulgence or mistake. You kneel around him slowly, carefully, straddling his thighs but not pressing. You don’t reach for his shirt yet. You don’t kiss him. You just take your place in his lap and lift your hands to his sides like you've always done. Reminding him that this is normal between you.

You feel his breath hitch. You see his eyes darken.

He doesn’t stop you.

Your fingers slide under his shirt and up his torso, the pads of your thumbs catching the dips between his ribs. He twitches. Just slightly.

"This okay?" you murmur, watching him.

His gaze finds yours again. Steady. Blue and glowing. "Yes."

You press your lips together, holding that, and start to move again - slow, reverent, your fingers gliding in soft, grounding lines across his stomach, his ribs, his hips. You let your nails trace, sometimes circling, sometimes brushing just firm enough to make him tense. You explore every inch of him without taking more. Without making it about anything but this:

Your hands.

His skin.

Your quiet need.

His quieter one.

At first, he holds still. Then his breath deepens.

Little by little, his muscles loosen. His jaw unclenches. His hands - once white-knuckled at his thighs - relax enough to slide to your waist.

And when you find the edge of his ribs - that spot - you see it.

The twitch. The shift. The quick suck of breath.

You press there again. Delicate. He laughs.

Low. Quiet. Half-ashamed.

You grin. "I love this little spot."

He glares at you, but it’s hollow. There’s a flush in his cheeks now, a breathless lift to his chest. You keep moving - one hand around his side, one along his hip, the drag of your fingertips making him shift again.

"You’re going to be the death of me," he mutters, voice hoarse.

You kiss just under his jaw, lips curled in a private smile. "Hmm."

He breathes another laugh - but then you shift your weight, catch that same spot again with the edge of your nail, and he moves.

And in the next instant, the air crackles.

Faster than you can yelp, you’re on your back. Wrists crossed and pinned above your head in one of his hands. The God of Mischief looms above you, panting faintly, the corner of his mouth curved.

His hand dives to your side, fingers dancing with practiced cruelty. "I’ve let this go on for far too long without-"

He pauses. Because all you've reacted with is a underwhelming little wriggle. Barely anything.

You grin up at him. A twitch. A sniffling giggle. No more.

He frowns.

Tries again - a precise, ruthless attack against your ribcage, something that would've decimated the average person. But you? You just shift a little underneath him, and your grin remains the same: smug, knowing, so fucking pleased.

He stills, releases your wrists and sits back over your hips, hovering his hands over your abdomen as if he's unsure what he's touching. His eyes scan across your half-clothed torso.

"What," he starts flatly, "is this witchcraft."

You laugh then, and shrug as best you can with your hands still resting above your head. "Sorry. Not really ticklish."

His eyes snap up to yours. He stares. "That’s a lie."

"It’s not a lie."

"It is. It must be."

You laugh again at fierce denial in his voice. "Sorry. You’re the squirmy one here, Your Highness."

His eyes flash.

"Oh, you think so?"

You try to smirk, but you're too amused to look cocky.

Loki's eyes narrow, something darker slithering in behind them as he leans in close. His body shifts above yours, expression melting into something smouldering. And he smirks. Slowly.

Lifts a brow. "I think... you forget who's touching you, pet."

You feel the press of his waist sliding down your hips.

"And that there are many other ways to wring some squirms and whimpers from you."

You open your mouth to tease back, but he’s already moving - down, sliding lower, and your breath catches. Your fingers thread through his inky black hair as you giggle once, delighted, anticipatory...

...and then the sound changes.

Your amusement stutters into something else. Something deeper. Something after.

The line between comfort and pleasure blurs into nothingness.

And the world, and all its worries, fades away with it.

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.1)

W/C: 3.5k #full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, soz if anything is clunky asdkjf; i can only reread the same fic so many times for editing sadge

A/N: Decided to separate this into parts since I'm dying to post some of it lol I've held it in a chokehold in the shadows of my WIPs for too long, some of it has to come out before I explode o(--( there is more to come!

tag: @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9

The scripture was incomplete, worn away by age.

…herein lays the God...imprisoned...by...Disgraced One…

Yet the society felt this, the coffin uncovered decades ago, could be an invaluable asset. The vessel was decrepit and ancient, yet still stood strong against the test of time and the wear of nature. Seal papers, no doubt left by a monk of sorts, covered the entirety of its surface, hiding away rotting wood and rusted bands of metal from modern sorcerer's curious eyes.

Few knew why the higher ups kept the vessel under lock and key. Fewer knew why they kept it at all; however, those few understood the importance of such a relic. They'd been the ones to seek it out, to steal it away before malicious forces took it for themselves, warping the supposed deity inside for their own, malevolent purpose, whatever that may be.

And with Ryoumen Sukuna's fingers being found one by one, they could not allow anyone to possess humanity's failsafe: you. A great being imprisoned by the devil.

“Anything?” Gojo trilled, patting Yuuji’s shoulders frantically as he stood behind him and beheld the wooden tub covered in sigils. 

“Uh…” Yuuji tried to focus on Sukuna’s presence inside of him. He didn’t seem intrigued or frightened, nor did he seem too bothered with the idea of them trying to smite him down with a sealed god–he was, however, annoyed that Yuuji continued to poke and prod at him. 

Piss off, runt. 

“Yep. Nope. Sukuna doesn't care,” Yuuji sighed. “He's getting all pissy now that I'm bothering him, though.” 

Gojo laughed and patted Yuuji's shoulders a few more times before all but twirling towards the bound box. “Well, that's a pretty good sign that he's not the one that did this, then! In that case,” he started, walking up to the seal papers keeping everything locked down, “let's pop ‘er open.” 

Before Yuuji could even wonder if that was a good idea, the white-haired witch used an overzealous amount of cursed energy and disintegrated every scrap of seal paper. 

Yuuji braced for impact. Surely something terrible like a bankai or a spirit bomb would send them flying once the coffin came undone. Surely they'd pay for this, for unleashing whatever godly spirit laid locked up for far too long, only to release it back into the modern age and–

“Huh. Weird.”

Yuuji cracked open an eye and saw the dull shine of tattered onyx fur, and his control slipped with a blitz of vertigo. 

Markings flared across his skin as he stormed toward the coffin, heart howling with thoughts and memories crashing through a shared mind; a face he didn't know but knew so well bloomed at the forefront of it all, eyes framed in pointed scarlet, skin bathed in ancient, dappled sunlight.

They reached the edge of the coffin and gripped the edges, splintering the wood as they took in the sight; crimson and curse decay pooled around a figure, curled up and half-submerged. Several black, tattered tails spilled free from the tub, no longer crushed from the force of the lid sealing them inside, but they were bent awkwardly and matted with whatever tincture lay at the bottom.

Then there was the so-called god in the middle of it all–you. Still. Quiet. Curled up in a haori far too big for you. Eyes closed. Almost peaceful.

Confusion tore at Sukuna while nausea ripped through Yuuji; he couldn't bear to look at such a morose scene.

So, Sukuna pushed him aside.

[Heian Era]

You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket. 

You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails. 

Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful? 

Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him. 

They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him. 

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing. 

“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces. 

You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud. 

What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–

“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.

“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.

"They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated.

“They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.” 

The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature. 

The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him. 

“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make. 

Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you. 

That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”

It took some time, but you managed to recover. It was an unnerving experience, with the way Uraume tended to you with sincerity. Perhaps it was genuinity born from their devotion to Ryoumen Sukuna, but you greedily soaked it in, filling your stomach with the care they offered you. 

Sukuna didn't bother much with you, not that you really minded; you were much more content to be fed and forgotten than hunted down by the creature that supposedly took ownership of you without enforcing it. If he didn't cause harm or good, if he simply existed somewhere else and forgot you breathed the same air as him, you'd still be at peace. 

But he was more intrigued than you gave him credit for. 

“Ho? So this is where you scamper off to,” Sukuna hummed, leaning over you as you dozed in the nice little spot you'd made for yourself in the garden, right under the crimson cover of a maple tree. You jumped the slightest bit, your daydreams and sunbathing interrupted by the brute’s silhouette eclipsing the sun, but you settled again quickly. The beast of a man wasn't a cause for panic in your little world, after all. 

“Does it displease you?” You inquired, fixing your hair and straightening out your robes. 

Sukuna held onto an overhead branch of the tree as he looked down at you. “Pets are supposed to play in the yard, aren't they?” He smirked as you pursed your lips and flicked your tail before calming it with hasty pets. “What, you don't like being my pet?” 

“I would not refer to myself as a pet,” you countered as the man sat down with you and leaned against the tree. The king's presence calmed you. With him, you knew you were invincible. 

“Pft. Then pray tell what your damn role is around here.” One set of arms folded behind his head while the other set crossed over his chest. “Pets are freeloaders. Pretty sure that's exactly what you are.”

You huffed. “Freeloader. Tch. How rude.” 

“Lookit that. You're copping an attitude now that you're fat and fed. Used to be so much more polite.” 

“Fat and–I am not fat.” You headbutted his side lightly, something that would make more sense had you been in your fox form. You grinding your forehead against him suggested this was more of a human move, however. “I am perfectly normal now. I was brittle and nonexistent prior to now. This is a grand improvement.”

Sukuna scoffed a laugh and looked down at your head pressed up against his side. “Thanks to me,” he boasted. 

“Yes,” you agreed. You held onto his haori and looked up at him, placid and intense. “It is thanks to you. I would not be here if not for your mercy and intervention.” 

Sukuna raised a brow as he regarded you. “Hm. And what will you do to repay me?” 

“My very presence grants you luck, good fortune and fertility.” You tilted your head. “I already repay you by being here.”

Tch. But the gardens and surrounding lands did look more lush and lively since your arrival, he couldn't deny that fact. But he was a king; he could always ask for more and expect to get it. 

“What more?” He prodded.

Your tail flicked as you thought. “What would you ask of me?” 

“Something you haven't given another,” Sukuna replied. Ugh, your flowery, poetry-y, bullshit speak was rubbing off on him. 

You stared at him, gemstone eyes glinting with earthen hues and shards of gold in the yawning afternoon sun. The leaves bristled just perfectly, letting in dapples of citrus sunlight as if trying to make this moment something special, as if to burn your ethereal presence into history for all eternity. All this, just while you thought of what to give him. Perhaps a riddle is what you wanted. Perhaps purple prose suited your fancy. Perhaps it was something else. 

You sat up, carefully raising yourself onto your knees before leaning up towards the hulking king. He turned his face to you in interest, feeling a sort of natural energy begin to pool around the both of you, reaching from the far depths of the earth and the wide stretch of the sky to converge on your existence as you framed his face with gentle hands, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

It lasted only a second. But a second was long enough to catch the scent of petrichor and petals on your skin, to indulge in the heat of wildfires raging in your soul, to feel the blasphemy of you against him; then, you parted. 

“For now,” you murmured, and Sukuna swore he saw your single tail fan out into nine, “I give you my divine favor, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

You wondered if your favor was enough. He'd been gone some time, off to accept a duel from the snotty shitheads Sukuna had received you from. Apparently, having two of the eldest boys murdered rubbed them the wrong way. Sukuna was glad for it, you knew–the man lived and breathed for a fight. 

Of course, you stayed put. Uraume assured you'd be fine on your own, and Sukuna reminded his staff they'd all be eaten alive by the king himself if anything uncouth were to take place in his absence. It was more so that Sukuna didn't like the idea of idiots touching his stuff than it was the notion you were important to him, from your understanding. 

Regardless, the time alone left you restless. That king made you invincible. Without him, you were nothing more than the scared kit locked away in darkness, never to emerge lest your stubbornness trick them. But things were different here. Everyday was filled with unknowns and uncertainties when the two you'd forged fragile bonds with fell absent. 

So, you thought of how to repay Sukuna. Your divine favor would only do so much, after all–you didn't think a man like that really needed the extra luck, but he seemed more than intrigued by the manner of delivering the blessing; you remembered how he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, shielding you from the inferno burning out of control. He grumbled something low in his chest, just loud enough that you heard: 

You better be here when I get back.

“Ah–” The thrill those catastrophic words gave you nearly led to stabbing yourself with the needle. You tutted and regained focus, continuing to carefully embroider the sleeves of one of Sukuna's many plain black haori.

You learned how to sew and embroider from watching an elder from that clan work her magic on old, tattered clothes. She never spoke to you nor regarded you, but she never turned you away the rare times you watched her fix garments; you thought it was beautiful–the art of turning something mundane into something meaningful.

Though you wondered if Ryoumen Sukuna, the most powerful sorcerer, the most feared man alive, had a desire for anything useless and meaningful. 

The answer came quickly. You'd found yourself void of confidence when the monarch returned to his palace after (obviously) winning whatever duel he'd agreed to; you weren't sure if you were to congratulate him, celebrate him or something more. On top of that, he'd eventually find that haori you'd slaved over for days, and you weren't sure you could take the heartbreak of dismissal. 

However, those fears were quashed when, from a new little secret garden hovel, you spied the man donning the very haori you slaved over; it wasn't a flashy piece, you didn't want to subtract from the marvel that was the king of curses, so you opted for using black, shimmery thread to weave intricate twisting trees and blackened blooms along the sleeve. Only if the design caught the light would one be able to notice it. 

But that was enough for you. Knowing he accepted such a meaningless gift was reassuring of your place in his world. 

So, you finally let Uraume convince you to stay in the room they'd prepared for you. 

“No need to be nervous,” you hummed, that undying urge inside you to take care of something helping you soothe the young woman's nerves. You fixed her hair, your deft fingers carefully slipping strands into place before sliding a decorative pin in to hold it all together. You took a step back to appraise her, Sukuna's latest concubine. 

“I–thank you.” Sachiko blushed fiercely and bowed the slightest bit, not risking a deep bow for the fear of her hair falling loose. “I can see why all the girls love you.” 

You laughed, low and warm. “Well, it's hard not to love someone who takes care of you, no?” Gently, you tilted her chin up and leaned in, carefully examining the red lacquer staining her lips. The colour matched her kimono and the gems in that exquisite hairpin keeping dark locks at bay. “But I'm glad. I know it's difficult to find respite in these times.” 

Sachiko held her breath as she looked over the natural paint of crimson adorning your eyes. “I-I, um–yes, I do agree.” 

You hummed and carefully fixed the smallest smudge on the corner of her mouth. “Mh. So I hope you do your best to please him.” 

“I will!” Sachiko promised. “But–I wish to–may I give you something?” 

“Of course.” 

She gathered her kimono up in her hands and leaned up toward you. You leaned down, expecting a secret or hushed words, but perfect red lips pressed against your skin instead. And you were dumbfounded; you'd never been kissed before. You'd never had a lady show that interest in you. 

Sachiko got down from her tiptoes and hid her mouth with her sleeve. “Just for good luck!” She squeaked before bowing and hastily running through the doors where Sukuna would no doubt be waiting for his woman for the evening’s events. 

You looked at the doors sliding closed and caught a glimpse of Sukuna stood before the young woman, his frame swallowing hers as you looked on. And you caught a glimpse of his eyes, his stare of shock and utter vexation–clearly, he'd seen the short woman give you a kiss for good luck. 

You turned away, choosing to abandon the girl to her demise as your fingers ghosted against your lips in wonder. 

He showed up in your chambers later that night. You were still awake, quietly embroidering another haori; this time, it was for Uraume. They insisted they didn't want to burden you, but they crumbled under your more insistent insistence, and accepted the offer on the condition it looked subtle and muted. 

Sukuna padded toward you, hardly bothering to announce himself or ask to join you (ugh, how annoying) before plopping himself onto the futon beside you, sighing as he laid down. 

“I see you finished early,” you commented, jumping the littlest bit when large hands caught your flickering tails. He didn't hurt you, no; he was simply an overgrown toddler with a penchant for examining whatever wiggled before him. 

“That woman kissed you,” Sukuna answered, unhelpful. “Ruined it.” 

“Ah. Well. I didn't expect it either.” You cleared your throat, feeling an unexpected bubble of embarrassment rise in your chest. “I have…I've never been given a kiss before. Not from what I can recall, at the very least.” 

“The hell are you talking about?” Sukuna grouched. “You planted one on me in the gardens.” 

“Giving is not receiving,” you corrected, flicking your tail so as to hit his face. “I've never given a kiss on another's lips, regardless. Though I find myself wondering why I–” 

You yowled when he yanked your tail like he meant to rip the thing off, and you whirled on him, eyes drawn into slits and chunky fangs bared as you dug your nails into his wrist in an effort to make him let go.

Yet the king looked unfazed. He sat up and  tugged you closer by your tail, yank after yank, ripping an impressive collection of vexed noises from you until his broad hand caught you by the throat. You clawed at his wrist and forearm, scrambling to find purchase, idly wondering if he'd finally had enough of you and sought to put you down after dirtying one of his concubines–

But he kissed you instead. His lips were warm and dry, not quite soft yet not unwelcoming. Sukuna knew what he was doing, too; his tongue licked at your bottom lip before pushing inside to finally taste you and taint you from within just a little bit. 

Your grip on him laxed the slightest bit, and you even eased into his hold as he, too, refused to harm you further. If you weren't aware of his malevolent spirit, you might've thought him gentle in that long, simple moment–a special brand of “gentle” that was wholly Sukuna's. Kind, but jagged around the edges. 

He started pulling back, though, and you followed after his touch like a bewitched maiden chasing after the lips of a lover. You nipped at the air like that'd do something for you, but soon settled on leaning into the hand holding you still, even if your throat scratched and ached because of it. 

You found Sukuna's calm stare watching you when you opened your eyes a crack. For once, you thought he looked content; the cruel, mocking lines of his face had smoothed and relaxed, and that annoying, cocky smirk he'd been born sporting had been replaced with a placid, normal lilt. Even the inferno blazing in crimson depths eased into pools of yawning embers–warm and spirited, yet contained. 

The sight relaxed you despite the confusion it brought to your rationale. 

“That,” Sukuna said, so odd and quiet, but powerful and judicial. “Is your first.” His thumb stroked against the side of your neck, pausing to feel the pitter patter of your heart thrumming under his mercy. “It'd serve you to remember that.” 

You nodded shallowly. “Of course.” 

Pleased, he let go of your quite breakable neck and moved like he was about to get up. You grabbed at his hand and pressed his palm to the side of your face like he was cupping your cheek. Your insistence on touching gave the beast pause, but he settled again, content to let you keep him hostage for as long as you wanted.

And you indulged in the simple favour. You nuzzled into his palm with a very fox-like chitter as a bassy, quiet trill of a purr lazily rolled through your chest, eventually reaching Sukuna himself. It somehow had him feeling content. Relaxed. Like he was basking in the warmth of the sun. 

“I request another,” you chirped, and Sukuna quirked a brow. 

“Another?” 

“Kiss.” 

Sukuna twitched a smirk. “It'll cost ya.” 

“Oh?” 

“Give me another blessing.”

And you agreed.

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

The witch in the woods

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 9.4k

Summary: You dreamt of that woman again. The one with hair like dying flames and eyes so green, they almost shone like jewels. The one you've seen ever since you were little. She was leading you somewhere, deep into the forest, where you were forbidden to go and this time, she took you farther than you've ever been, to a place you could hardly believe existed. When you wake and make your way to the woods, you finally find her... But there is a monster after you too. Running for your life, you let her lead you to a temple. A place where her revelations will change your life forever.

Warnings: This is a bit dark. Descriptions of death and violence, descriptions of past abuse and imprisonment... This will feature a slightly dark Wanda.

Masterlist with all my works.

You woke up with a start in the middle of the night, cold sweat covering your body, your chest heaving and your heart beating wildly. You’d dreamt of that woman again. The one with hair like dying flames and eyes so green, they almost shone like jewels. You remember her plush lips forming words you couldn’t quite make out, the sound of her voice drowned out, as if there was an invisible wall between you. It was always like that. You didn’t dream of her every day, you’d gone weeks without seeing her, yet when you dreamt of her, it was always like this. Ever since you were little. You could see her quite clearly, but you could never hear her. She was leading you somewhere, deep into the forest, where you were forbidden to go, but if she ever reached out, tried to touch you, you could always feel that wall between you, separating you, pushing her back. Tonight was the same. You had travelled the familiar path in the forest, the same one she always led you through, until you had reached a strange stone structure, carved into the face of a cliff. You’d never seen that before. She’d never managed to take you this far, before you woke. The structure was built like an ancient temple with an entryway, just large enough for a single person to pass through and though it seemed abandoned, you could see the light of torches flickering there. The woman beckoned you closer, walking backwards, her eyes fixed on you as she passed the two stone giants that stood guard in this ancient place and made her way inside. She stood in the light of the torches, her shadow spilling across the dusty stone floor, as she curled a single finger, inviting you to step through.

You tried, your steps light, as if you were walking on clouds, but as soon as you tried to pass through the threshold, an invisible force held you back. You could step no further than this. And no matter how much the woman held out her hand and offered it to you, you could not take it. She seemed to realize it first and her expression seemed to change, a flash of anger showing, before it was gone. It happened so quickly, you almost thought you imagined it. But when you looked at her, all you saw in her eyes was longing. And then determination, as she extended her hand again. But the more she tried to reach you, the more your surroundings seemed to fade. You tried to reach out for her too, instinctively looking for something or someone to hold on to, but it made it worse. The ground beneath you gave way and suddenly you were falling, deep into the earth and away from her, trying to grasp something or try to break your fall, but there was nothing except blackness… You tried to remember that it was just a dream. That you were safe. You were in your house, in your room, in your own bed and nothing bad could ever reach you here. Those words were engraved in you from a young age. Your mother always whispered them to you, when you woke up screaming. She would always pull you close to her chest, let you listen to the sound of her heartbeat and tell you a story, her voice soothing and low. She would stay with you until the morning and smile, brushing away hair from your face. “You see, Y/N, here you will always be safe.” Your parents said that a lot. They were protective of you, perhaps more than a parent should. Others, less sheltered than you, were better equipped to face life and its hardships and as you grew older you tried to explain it to them, tried to tell them that you needed to experience freedom at least once in your life. The same kind you only knew in your dreams. “You’re simply too precious to us, sweetheart.” Your mother would say. “The world is a dangerous place.” Your father would warn. That’s why you were never allowed outside the city walls, never allowed to play in the woods with the other kids, never left unsupervised to roam the streets. There was always someone there to watch over you. And, though you hated to admit it, sometimes you could understand the reasoning behind it. Sometimes you would just… Forget yourself. Your parents would find you in strange places, would chase you down alleys you never remembered entering, they would call out your name and see you walk right past them as if you didn’t see them at all.

When asked where you were going, you could never tell. You weren’t going anywhere. You hadn’t heard them speak at all. But that wasn’t quite true. You had a longing for the forest. You always felt this pull towards it and no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, it always gnawed at you. Sometimes, you allowed this pull to guide you, but you never got far. Once, when you were 15, they had caught you just at the edge of the woods. Your mother had turned her back on you to speak to one of the merchants that sold his goods in the town square, and when she turned you were gone. And no matter how much she called out to you, no reply came. She never told you how she found you on the small winding path that led into the forest, or how she had thought to look for you there. She just told you to be careful. To never enter the woods. There were creatures that hid among the shadows, that creeped silently under the brush and waited, until they could get a stranger to stray from their path. There were demons too. Evil things made of shadow. They swallowed you into the darkness and made sure you never made you way back home. But worst of all were the witches that roamed. Your mother liked to say witches, yet she always spoke of one. The Scarlet witch. In the tales, she wore a crown made of bones and her eyes shown red in the darkness. Her fingers were dipped in black, for once, she had reached into hell itself, to pull back the soul of a man who had wronged her. She had kept his soul caged into the ruby at her neck, tormenting him with her powers, for she had deemed that hell was too good a place for someone like him. The endeavour had forever stained her, marked her for the world to see. Your mother had been telling stories of the Scarlet Witch since you were little. Always cautioning you to stay away from the woods, lest you fall victim to her too. And you had. You’d always heeded your mother’s advice, always strode to be a good daughter, to show your parents the respect they deserved. But you were no longer a little girl. You were 21 now, a woman, and though you cherished the safety of your home, you felt like you needed more. You yearned for adventures, for something more than the monotony of your sheltered life. You wanted to see the world. Yet, you knew, that your parents could never afford to send you off, letting you travel and explore. Now, when your breathing had calmed and your mind had cleared, you looked around your childhood home, listened to the quiet that surrounded you, looked at the familiar furniture, the cozy fireplace, the warm blankets that covered you and all you could think about was that longing. You wanted, no you needed more. You craved that freedom you felt in the forest.

You got up from your bed in a rush, taking your heavy coat and pulling it around your shoulders. In the excitement you forgot to change out of your night gown and into more comfortable clothes, but as you stood at the door, you didn’t want to risk going back, afraid the sounds may wake your parents, who slept peacefully in the next room. You put on comfortable shoes and had enough sense to grab a bottle of water, before you turned and left your childhood home behind. The small footpath that lead into the woods looked far less inviting in the dark. The blood moon had risen tonight, shining red and somehow eery in its beauty, but even under its light, you could hardly see. Your eyes couldn’t pierce the shadows, but you could hear the sounds of night animals all around you. You heard a branch snapping somewhere in the distance, the shuffling of small feet in the grass, you could hear the rapid beating of wings somewhere above you and the tiny screeches of bats. The night was alive and a part of you regretted that you couldn’t see all of its beauty. When you reached the edge of the forest you hesitated. It was even darker under the branches, you realized and the air seemed cooler too, making you shiver even in your warm coat. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to come all alone. You could ask your parents tomorrow, come by the light of day. But they would never allow it. You knew well. You’ve asked many times. And they would never let you out of their sight either. Especially if they learned that you had managed to slip away in the night. This was your only chance for an adventure. You knew that. And besides… Nothing had ever actually happened to anyone in the woods. It was all tales, told by your mother to scare you. With renewed determination, you walked forward, keeping to the path you could still make out. It twisted and turned between the trees, a small line that seemed to keep the forest from crowding around you. Branches hung above you like bony hands, their fingers outstretched towards you and the leaves seemed to rustle, even though there was no wind. You’d walked there, heart hammering in your chest for what felt like hours, though you knew it couldn’t have been that long, when, as you tried to keep your steps steady and your breaths even, somewhere in the back of your mind, you heard a voice. A woman’s voice. A beautiful voice that wrapped around you in a calming blanket. “Let me in.” It whispered softly. Gently. Like a lullaby that only you could hear. Some part of you knew to be afraid of this voice. That you should take caution, for you have never heard it before.

“Hello?” You called out, turning this way and that. But there was no one to be seen. “Come to me.” Answered the voice, still gentle, still soft, yet something about it demanded to be answered, to be acknowledged, to be headed. “Come to me.” You knew now, as you stood in the darkness, that only you could hear this voice. That the words the woman had spoken were in your mind and nowhere else. But how could that be? Such a thing was not possible… Not human. The thought scared you more than you cared to admit and you felt cold sweat bead on your forehead. Your hands shook terribly all of a sudden and you started to turn, looking around you frantically. “Calm yourself little bird.” The voice spoke again, that same low whisper and it felt like the words alone slowed down the frantic beating of your heart. “Stay calm. No harm will come to you.” It said assertively. “Just let me in. I’ll keep you safe.” It said, and it felt like fog was wrapping around your thoughts, pushing them back, so the voice can take over. It was almost like you were being hypnotized and you tried to keep your nerves from getting the best of you. God, you tried. But you were scared and alone and you didn’t know where you were going. You didn’t know where this voice was coming from or what was lurking in the shadows of the woods. You just knew it didn’t feel like an adventure anymore, it didn’t feel like freedom. It felt like a snare, slowly closing around you. With a scream, you turned the way you came from and ran. You ran as fast as your legs could muster, your eyes fixed on the path in front of you. You didn’t dare look around you anymore, too scared of what you’ll see. You were terrified. Your mother was right! There were monsters in the woods and you had come alone! Such a stupid thing to do! “It will be all right, my sweet girl.” That same voice rang in your head. Sweet. Lovely. Full of affection even. “Come to me.” It beckoned, that fog starting to cloud your thoughts again. “Help!” You screamed as your mind worked itself into a frenzy. “Someone, please!” You shouted, the force of the scream almost bruising. Your throat felt raw. Your legs felt like putty, the fear coursing through your veins the only thing that kept you upright, kept you moving. Suddenly, the sound of a branch snapping somewhere behind you sent another spike of fear within you, and your head turned, following the sound. In your frenzy you could hardly see anything, only trees and the deep shadows that occupied the space between them. You didn’t bother to stop, too afraid that whatever lurked in the darkness would catch up to you. Your feet carried you forward, even as your head was turned, stumbling over the forest path.

That’s when you felt yourself collide with something, the mass in front of you solid and unmoving. You had only a moment to process that you had struck something, before you were falling, your body rushing towards the ground. You knew that the fall was inevitable and you outstretched your hands on instinct, trying to break it, but in the last possible second, you were stopped. You hung, suspended in the air, your eyes closed, your hair falling around you like a curtain as a pair of strong arms held you up. Whatever you struck had caught you. The person, if it was even a person, you thought in horror, straightened you, depositing you on your feet. “Are you all right?” A woman asked, brushing strands of hair from your face. “You almost fell.” She explained, lifting your chin to get a better look at you, her green eyes scanning for any injury. That’s when you truly saw her. Truly focused on her face and her features. It was her! It was the woman from your dreams. She had the same fiery hair, the same piercing green eyes, the high cheekbones, the same soft lips. “It’s you!” You exclaimed without thinking. “I know you.” The woman looked back at you with the same bewilderment in her eyes. Her brows shot up at the sight of you and her lips parted in surprise, her breath held for a long moment. But she seemed to recover much faster than you and her lips stretched into a smile. “I think I know you too.” She said. “From my dreams.” That smile almost had your knees buckle all over again, but the moment was short-lived as you remembered just where you were and that there was a monster after you.

“We have to leave!” You told the woman suddenly. “There is a monster.” You said, your voice shaking. “It spoke to me. It was after me!” You exclaimed in rush, grasping her by the shoulders. “What monster?” The woman asked, her eyes widening in shock. “I don’t know! I heard it! It was calling me! We have to leave!” You tried to tell her, turning to leave and taking her hand in yours. It was cold. You tried to lead her down the path you were running, back towards the town, but she didn’t move, pulling you backwards towards her, making you almost fall back in her arms. “Not that way.” She said quietly. “Come with me. I know a place where we can hide.” She whispered, as if sharing a secret only known to her. “But the town…” You tried to protest. “It’s too far away.” She said in a rush, already pulling you into the shadows of the trees and deeper into the forest. You ran side by side and you were grateful that you were no longer alone. Your mind raced the whole time, replaying what had happened. You kept coming back to that moment, to that voice that spoke. It had felt like a second consciousness, scratching at the back of your mind, clawing its way in. No, it wanted to be let in. “Let me in.” You heard it again, hissing, as if the thought of it had been a call it followed through the dark and all the way back to you. You screamed, your steps faltering, slowing to a halt as you cried out. “What’s wrong?” The woman beside you doubled back, grasping you by the shoulders and forcing you to look at her. “What happened?” She asked, concerned, her eyes darting left and right. “I heard it again. It’s close. It’s going to get us!” You whaled in panic, your eyes filling with unshed tears. “No, it won’t. Just breathe.” She guided you, pulling on your arm and forcing your body to start walking even when all you wanted to do was collapse on the ground and cry. “We’re almost there.” She promised, urging you forward. Without protest you obeyed, trying your hardest to stop thinking of the monster that followed you through the dark. At least you would not die alone, you mused, the thought surprisingly calming to your frayed nerves. And you had met the woman from your dreams. She was guiding you through the woods, just as you always dreamt, but this time you could hear her, feel her. This time you knew she was real. She continued to hold your hand, helping you climb over fallen trees and under low branches. She walked confidently, as if she’d walked this unmarked path before and didn’t look as scared as you were. She didn’t look scared at all. Did she not believe you? And where was she taking you? Surely, you would have been back in town by now. But you were so breathless from running and climbing, that you couldn’t spare the energy to ask all the questions that swirled in your head. “Almost there.” She assured you, her cold hands helping you up.

The climb up was steep here and your breaths came in rapid succession. You could feel a sheen of sweat underneath your nightgown and you felt so over-heated that you wanted to shrug off your coat. How were her hands so cold still? And why was she not afraid? What was she even doing in the woods in the middle of the night? Before you could ask, she pulled you up, over a large rock, and she helped you to your feet with surprising strength. How was she so strong, you wondered, that she could catch you when you fell, that she could drag you through the woods, when you had no more strength to run. But your question died down, when you looked up. You were faced with the same building from your dream. That large temple, carved into the cliff, with its stone giants standing guard around the entrance and you had to hold back a gasp. It looked out of place here, in the middle of the woods and you wondered how no one had ever seen it or spoken of it before. How was it possible that no one had found it? How come this woman knew exactly where to find it, and why was she leading you here? “What is this place?” You asked her, reluctant to make another step towards it. “Just a ruin.” She said simply, shrugging at the words, trying to seem disinterested. But you could tell there was more to it than that. She was hiding something. Perhaps you suspicion showed, because the woman forced herself to continue. “An alter, built for the old gods.” She said when she saw you weren’t moving. “For tonight, it’s our sanctuary from the monsters.” She said encouragingly, once again offering her outstretched hand. “How did you know it’s here? I’ve never heard of it.” You probed further. You reached to take the hand she was offering, only hesitating slightly when you remembered all those dreams, when she disappeared when your hands tried to touch. She seemed to notice your hesitation and she smiled, closing the distance and taking your hand firmly in hers. “This time I’m not going to fade away.” She said softly. “I’ll never disappear again.” The words sounded like a strange promise and they startled you, and you noticed with suspicion that she didn’t answer your question, but whatever reservations you had, quickly gave way to fear, as you heard the distant sound of footsteps somewhere in behind you. The woman heard them too, it seemed, because she held your hand more firmly and started to run towards the temple, the faint light of a torch already visible somewhere inside. “How do we know it won’t follow us inside?” You asked, your voice raising as you ran faster. “There is no door!” You noted in panic, neck craning back, so you could look in the darkness behind you, trying to pinpoint the source of the noises. “You’ll be safe with me.” The woman said. And it wasn’t just the familiarity of the words, but the tone of her voice that reminded you of the eery voice you had heard in your head. “Don’t worry. Just follow me.” She assured, half-pulling you behind her.

You had almost reached the entrance to the temple, the stone giants looming over you threateningly. Your feet were moving on muscle-memory alone at this stage, as you were being dragged by the stranger. She didn’t seem bothered by that, she kept pulling you forward with palpable urgency. You kept turning back, trying to see who or what was following behind you in the darkness, but you could see no one. Only shadows.   You were right at the entrance, when your feet gave up and you stopped, your chest heaving and your mind reeling. You weren’t sure what to trust anymore. She looked innocent enough, had done nothing but help you in your fear and panic, yet there was something wrong you couldn’t quite put your finger to. Who was she? What was she doing in the woods in the middle of the night? How come you stumbled upon her? Was the timing really fortuitus, or was there more to it than that? How did she know of this place? Where did it come from? Why had you seen her in your dreams, but never in town, or at the market? How come her face hadn’t changed in all the years you’d dreamt of her? Why did she drag you up here, instead of taking you back to the safety of the town? There were too many questions. You felt overwhelmed. “We have to hurry!” She said, as she saw the hesitancy in your eyes. “Just come with me inside.” She commanded, more than asked, grabbing your hand by the wrist. “We don’t have much time.” She insisted, when you once again didn’t move, her grip hardening, and almost painful. “What’s after us?” You asked, your head turning once more to the darkness behind you. It was even harder to see now that you were closer to the light inside the temple. “Who else is inside?” “There’s no one inside. It’s been abandoned for centuries.” She insisted. “There’s a lit torch inside!” You stood your ground. “Someone must have brought it.” “The torch is mine. Only I come here. Only I know of this place. And I cannot keep you safe, unless you step inside.” The woman said, irritation clear in her voice. “Keep me safe from what?” You asked, matching her exasperation. But your resolve faltered when you heard the approaching steps, someone panting, getting closer… The woman heard them too, her eyes darting to the darkness behind you, widening in genuine fear. You had to choose. Trust the stranger, or take your chances with the monster.  “Let me in!” You heard that voice again, gravely and insisting, scratching at your consciousness. Whatever it was, you knew you would not be able to face it. You’d rather take your chances with the stranger. You nodded at her, your foot lifting from the ground to make that final step inside, when you heard a scream behind you. Desperate. Piercing. And full of anguish. “Y/N!” It shouted through the dark and you instantly recognized your mother’s voice. But it was too late. The woman beside you used your momentum and pulled you through the threshold of the temple, her hands encasing you greedily once you were already inside. “There we go. Now you’ll always be safe with me.” The woman whispered next to your ear, holding you to her chest like a prized doll, while your mother’s frame came into the light. “Y/N!” Your mother shouted, running, trying to pass through the threshold of the temple. “Mother!” You screamed, trying to shrug away the stranger, but her grip was iron-clad.

Before your mother could pass, heavy axes crossed in front of the entrance with a deep, bone-rattling rumble, as if the cliff itself was going to collapse on top of you. “Let me in!” Your mother screamed, desperate. She’d been the one running after you all this time. She was looking for you! She was here to help you. To save you! So where had the voice come from? Your eyes turned on the strange woman and when you saw the expression on her face, you knew instantly that this was all her doing. She had lured you here. She’d used her knowledge of you to gain your trust, she’d used your fear to make you go with her, when you should have ran home. And when you had started to question what was going on, she had used your fear of a monster, to drag you further. There was no monster at all. There was only her. “You! It was you all along, wasn’t it!” You screamed, your fists beating against her chest with ferocity. “Y/N, honey, just come outside.” Your mother spoke behind you, her voice a mixture of fear and worry. “Just come out.” She coaxed. And you tried, turning your back on the woman, you ran towards the entrance, but as soon as you reached the threshold, it suddenly glowed deep red, the markings of ancient runes appearing under the dust and your body collided with an invisible barrier. Just like in your dreams, something held you back, but this time, instead of keeping you away from the woman, it separated you from your mother, who tried to bang her fists against the stone axes of the giants. “You won’t be going anywhere. Not when I finally have you.” The woman said with a note of finality. She raised her hands, red mist swirling around her fingers and curling around her like vines. Her clothes suddenly changed. Her simple wool dress and cloak quickly replaced by tight leather pants and a corset of deep red, hugging all her curves perfectly. A cloak of the same deep red hugged her shoulders and flew behind her and her simple walking shoes turned to black leather boots. “Have me? Why do you even want me?” You asked, trying to shake away the shock, the confusion, the utter impossibility of what you were seeing. You were tired and your legs hurt from the climb and all you wanted was to go home. “Who are you?!” You asked in exasperation. “She is the Scarlet witch.” Your mother answered behind you, her face sullen. The woman, no, the witch smiled, a grin so wide and sinister, it was the only confirmation you needed. Your mother was right. “Yes.” The woman confirmed, her shoulders straightening, her chin lifted high. “But you may call me Wanda.” She added, her eyes fixed on you. “I won’t be calling you anything.” You said in a moment of bravery. “I’m leaving!” You insisted. “Walk away from me if you can.” The witch said, her hand briefly gesturing towards the entrance. Her confidence sent a chill down your spine. “Please, you don’t have to do this.” Your mother pleaded. “You can have me.” She offered. “I’ll come with you willingly, just let my daughter go. Please!” “You know I won’t.” The witch addressed your mother, a gentle smile gracing her features. “Why not?” Your mother insisted. “We are of the same blood. Whatever you need from her, I have as well! Just take me. I will come to you willingly, I will do as you bid, I will remain for as long as you want. I will serve you. Just let my daughter go. Please. Have my life if you want it, but spare my daughter.”

The pleading look in your mother’s eyes almost broke your heart and the witch’s features seemed to mirror yours. It seemed she understood your mother’s anguish and you felt hope fill your heart that whatever was going on, whatever unspoken truths your mother and this woman shared, may be the key to your freedom. “It’s not blood I seek.” The witch said solemnly. “Y/N was made for me. My soulmate. My love. My one. No one can take her place.” Wanda explained, longing filling every word. “And nothing and no one will take from me again.” She added, grim determination settling across her features. “Leave us be.” She hissed in your mother’s direction. “You know I won’t.” Your mother responded, mirroring the witch’s response from earlier, steel laced in every word. You thought your mother would charge at the woman, with the way her eyes blazed, but she started to say something instead. A low muttering you couldn’t understand. Strange words filled the air in a language you didn’t understand and suddenly the world seemed to stand still. As if the world itself stopped to witness your mother’s strange words. She spoke them louder and louder, chanting them into the air, her voice rising until it was all you could hear, gathering momentum. For a moment it felt like the temple itself shook with her words, groaning, as if awakening from a deep sleep and your mother chanted louder, but you could tell that whatever she did cost her. She fought to keep her strange words from losing their rhythm, but you could tell she wouldn’t be able to keep it up much longer. As if awakened from a trance, you stepped forward, joining your mother’s chant, giving it strength, feeding whatever spell she was casting. You didn’t know what she was doing, if her strange chant would even work, you just knew it was your only chance of leaving this temple. Your voices grew stronger together and you felt that hope inside you expand, you took a tentative step towards the entrance, then another, chanting the strange words over and over again, the temple shaking all around you, as if in protest. In a moment of bravery, you made the final step. You closed your eyes and believed that it will work, that you will open your eyes and you will find yourself outside and in your mother’s embrace. Instead your body struck that invisible wall again, the barrier pushing you back and making you stumble as you tried not to fall.

Your voice faltered, frustration and fear replacing the hope you had felt. Your mother looked defeated too, her words dying down and turning into sobs. She looked so defeated. The witch did nothing. Just watched it all unfold. Her head was still held high, her expression impassive even after her victory. She looked thoughtful. Almost like she wasn’t fully present, her thoughts straying to something distant. “It’s been so long since I heard those words.” The Scarlet witch said, as if to ground herself. “But you have only a fraction of the spell.” She added cockily. “And even if it was whole, It took 3 covens, 36 witches to imprison me here. You think the two of you have the power for it?” She asked, anger rising within her. “They don’t make witches like they used to.” She growled, bitter. “Their power burned like the sun! And it took every last bit of it, for them to seal the temple.” She said through gritted teeth. “You’re walking on their bones.” She spat at your mother. “You don’t have what it takes. Just a spark of that magic. Pathetic.” As if disgusted with your mother’s weakness, the witch waved her hand and the entrance to the temple disappeared, leaving your mother on the other end. “No!” You screamed, running towards the doorway again and banging your fists against the stone, which didn’t seem to push you back any longer. It was cold and unmoving and solid enough for you to know that there was no way through. “Let me out of here!” You screamed at the witch, your cold eyes turning on her. “Never.” She responded simply. Surprisingly, there was no malice behind those words, no cruelty… Just longing and determination and something about it startled you. “Why? Why do you even want me? I’m no one. I’m not special! I don’t have magic…” You asked, trying to reason with the woman, trying to make sense of what you were seeing, of the strange new things you had learned. “Oh, but you are. You’re very special to me.” The Scarlet witch said with a sad smile. “You were everything to me once.” She continued, stepping closer, her eyes betraying the hurt she felt, when you instinctively stepped away. “But you were taken from me.” She sighed, stopping in her tracks, as if remembering that she was a stranger to you. “What do you mean? I don’t even know you!” You screamed at her.

You felt helpless and confused, you were tired and scared… You just wanted to go home. But what waited for you there? Your mother was a witch. She’d always spoke with such contempt about witches, yet she was one herself. And she had known this woman was after you, she had known she was here all this time, scheming and plotting to find a way to bring you here. She’d told you the Scarlet witch was evil. But she didn’t have glowing red eyes, or black fingers and she had no crown made of bone. She was just a woman… God, you didn’t know what to think! “Walk with me.” The witch spoke after a few long moments. She kept her tone even, her voice low, as if she was worried she might scare you away if she spoke too loudly. She turned her back on you then, walking away without turning back to see if you followed. Her steps echoed on the stone floor as she walked through passages and hallways lit by torches. The air smelled of candlewax and sweet-scented oils. She led you past doors and passages, further and farther into the temple, making you scale winding staircases, until you reached a huge, circular chamber. You could see candles scattered all around and torches mapped the edges of the room. The alter at its center was huge and covered in markings, ancient runes and symbols you couldn’t recognize. At first you thought that the domed roof had collapsed, but as you looked closer, you realised it was designed to be open, the circular opening smooth. The blood moon shone brightly through it, making you almost gasp at the beauty of it. The far wall on the right also seemed collapsed at first, as it was almost completely gone. It took you a moment to realize that it was not this way due to time or disrepair, but by design. The space where a wall was meant to be faced a vast structure below, a stone circle that looked exactly as the alter, only bigger. But the most impressive thing by far, was the giant stone statue of a woman that towered as tall as the temple walls. The sight of it left you breathless and you couldn’t help but speak, despite yourself. “What is this place?” You asked under your breath. The woman turned to you then, her eyes taking in your expression.

“I didn’t lie to you when you asked me the first time around. It’s an old ruin, where centuries ago, people built a temple to an old god. Or, should I say a goddess.” She said, gesturing to the stone statue. “The goddess of chaos.” She explained with a glint in her eyes. “They worshipped her, crated this temple for her and waited for her arrival. Her coming was foretold. She is not born, but forged. The laws of magic would bend to her will. To her there would be no laws at all. She would break them all.” She explained, her voice raw and full of barely contained emotions. “Every coven hoped that one of their own would be the goddess of chaos. Every powerful girl was raised on that hope.” She said thoughtfully. “And witches were powerful back then. Their magic was strong, passed down by the generations, practiced and honed. It was an age of miracles. Those women could do extraordinary things.” She said with admiration. “What they didn’t expect was that a simple girl, with no family or coven, no training and no tutors would be the one.” The woman smiled sadly. “My mother and father died before my eyes.” She continued with a slight tremble in her voice. “I was a child. My brother and I hid under the bad and watched as they were murdered. We watched their blood seep into the floorboards, the pool growing so big, we had to crawl through it to get out. It was cold by then, thick and slippery. We were covered in it.” She spoke, her eyes filling with tears. She looked so broken-hearted, so sad, and so alone and something about that made your heart ache for her. “We were taken as servants by a lord, to show his kindness to the people. But he was a cruel man. He would beat us for every small mistake, would leave us hungry… Sometimes for days. He was especially cruel to Pietro. He would lash him until he passed out from the pain. He’d make me watch as he beat him and told me that if I looked away, he’d hurt him worse.” The memory seemed to take hold of the woman in front of you and a single tear slipped free from her eye.

“One day, after he’d returned from the capitol, he was seething. We tried to hide from him, we’d learned to avoid him in his foul moods, but he sought us out. Made sure we were brought to him. He already had his whip in his hands. He whipped Pietro again and again, telling him to endure it all, or he would turn his whip on me. When even the lasing didn’t make him happy, he threw it on the floor, grabbed Pietro by the neck and started squeezing. I tried to pry him away and Pietro fought with all his might, but he wouldn’t let go. He squeezed and squeezed, until I could see my brother’s face turn red, then purple. No matter how much a screamed for help, or how I tried to fight him off, he wouldn’t let go. I watched as the light from my brother’s eyes started to fade and something inside me broke. I screamed and I let loose whatever I was holding back inside me. I let it flood out of me and tear through our tormentor, his castle, his guards, his family and servants… When I could finally stop, only I and Pietro’s unconscious body remained.” She said, wiping away her teras. “We were lucky that a woman, Evanora Harkness was staying in town. When she saw what I did, she took us away. Brought us to this place. My brother had no gift for magic, so he lived in the nearby town, came to see me often… Eventually found a girl to settle down with, had children of his own. I remained at the temple. They helped me develop my power, helped me learn to control it. But they were fearful of me too. They couldn’t explain how I’d done what I did. And I couldn’t tell them, because I didn’t know. Their magic had rules and constraints, it was complicated in all its power. My magic was different. Needed no incantation, no runes, no herbs or special objects. It simply was.” She shrugged. “It was Agatha Harkness, Evanora’s daughter, that first realized who I was. Who I was meant to be.” She continued her story. “I could tell she was jealous, she was powerful and ambitious and she wanted to make the prophecy come true. She wanted that power all to herself. But she also admired that power, craved it. Her mother and the rest of the coven feared it. They were raised on the prophecy of the Scarlet witch, but when they saw what I could do, they grew fearful.” She said, shaking her head. “I should have realized it sooner. I should have seen the way they looked at me, when I kept breaking their precious rules of magic and grew more powerful… But I was in love.” She said with a bitter smile. “You have her name.” The woman said, turning to you for the first time. Her small, tentative smile was so beautiful, even in its sadness and you couldn’t help but feel for her.

“She was sweet, and beautiful and so kind. She was the only one willing to be my friend. The only one who didn’t resent me for my power, or judge me for coming from a family without magic. The only one who didn’t try to study me, or control me… I couldn’t help but fall in love. Then I couldn’t even begin to tell her of that love.” She spoke, looking in your eyes, but you could see she was picturing someone else in your place. Her tail was heartbreaking and it made your chest ache for her. You didn’t know why it hurt so badly to listen to her story, or why it affected you, but you couldn’t help but feel for her, grieve with her. “The discovery that I could wield chaos magic, that I was meant to take the mantle of the Scarlet witch was not accepted easily. Especially by the older generations. They clung to their rules, blanketed their prejudice in them. They feared me. I would not choose a coven, I could not be controlled, and I would not do as I was bid. That was a dangerous thing. But the younger generations longed for the promise of the prophecy. Agatha advocated for my ascendency more than anyone else. She gathered loyal followers to her side. The covens were divided. But I was also more powerful than any of them. Chaos magic had no match, it could not be stopped… This alter was my rightful throne. It was made for me and they had no choice but to give it to me.” She said, lifting her chin. “When I took my place, things seemed to settle. People were uneasy, the covens still clustered in groups and whispered, but they could not challenge me. Not without cause. For a while I ruled over the covens. It was a golden age for magic. And the prophecy promised more. I was meant to rule the world. Witches would no longer be hunted, would no longer fear for their lives and their families… I was meant to bring about a new age. But I didn’t care for such things. I didn’t want to rule the world. I only wanted you. You were the light of my day, the reason I smiled. You were my whole heart.” She said, her hand reaching out to touch your face, but the panic in your eyes at the gesture stopped her in her tracks and her eyes hardened once more, her hand dropping to her sides.

“You gave me my first kiss under the light of the full moon.” She continued her story. “You nestled at my side, as we watched the stars together. You smiled, as I made the flames in the torches dance for us and you held my hand when the world was too much to bear.” She said gently. “We made love right here, on my throne.” She said seductively, gesturing to the stone alter. “You tasted so sweet, my love. Made the most delectable sounds when I stretched you on my fingers.” She added, watching the way you blushed at her words. A reaction she seemed to enjoy greatly. “You were mine and I was yours. And your love elevated me higher. You calmed the storms inside me, tempered me… You were the reason for every mercy. You were the reason for my happiness.” “We were truly happy for a while. I made you my bride under the light of a blood moon, just like this one. I made you my queen.” She said with pride. “But I wanted more. I wanted us to have a family. Children of our own. And in my happiness, I made it true. You became pregnant. We were going to have twins. But the elders in the covens could not accept it. Making life out of nothing was simply not possible. An abomination in their eyes. And their fear of what else I might create drove them to plot my undoing.” She said bitterly. “They knew they could not kill me, that they would be opposed, so they crated a spell to entomb me here, in this temple. They drugged us, on the celebration of the winter solstice of all times. You, Agatha and all those loyal to us were taken away from me. They dragged the unconscious bodies from the great hall and into the cold air outside. Your belly was so swollen by then. You were almost due to give birth… I watched them slit your throat like a sacrifice and then used it to seal the temple, push it between worlds, so no one would ever be able to find it, or enter it.” She said as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. ”It took everything they had. I watched as the magic drained from them, leaving them nothing but empty shells… But they were willing to sacrifice it all just to keep me in here.” She snarled. “The entire time they thought I was fighting them. I was only fighting to keep you and the twins alive.” She said in a sob. “I watched the light drain from your eyes! I felt our boys struggle within you, their little souls crying. I could hear them calling out to me, begging me to save them. I felt your life essence fade and your soul slip from this world too and in desperation I did the only thing I could. I kept it from passing through. I made sure you would be born again. That you will come back to me.” She said as her eyes examined your face, trying to decern your thoughts. “And you did. I waited centuries in here. I was alone and grieving and quite mad I’m afraid. I roamed the halls, read every book, studied every theory, trying to break free from this prison. That’s how I discovered that on the nights, when the vail between worlds is thinner, I can push past their spell and into the world. The temple would once again appear, just where it was.” She said, like she was sharing a secret. “Agatha found out too. She kept coming to see me. She tried to free me from this place. When the covens found out, they punished her for it. Tried to burn her. Turns out she had a stronger will to live. She took their magic. But even with the combined power of her coven, she could not break the spell, only weaken it. But it’s been enough. I found my way out tonight and into your world. I found my way back to you, my love.” She said finally, stepping so close to you, you were almost touching.

It took you a long moment to gather your thoughts after her story. It was all too much. Too impossible. As much as you tried, you couldn’t wrap your head around it. “How…” You finally spoke, voice hoarse. “How do you know it’s me?” You asked. “I recognize your soul, my love. We are bound. You have a piece of my life essence within you. There could be no mistake.” “Is that why I’ve been seeing you in my dreams?” You asked tentatively. “Yes. I found you in the world of dreams. I’ve been trying to lead you to me all this time. But there was something standing in the way. There was always a barrier between us. I’m guessing your clever mother put a spell on you.” She said, tilting her head slightly. “But it doesn’t matter. You are here now. And we are finally together. Nothing will take you from me again.” The witch promised. The words were spoken without hesitation, without a shadow of a doubt and something about them sent a jolt of fear through you. Did this mean you could not leave? That you could never see your family again? Your few friends… Did she mean to keep you here forever? “Come.” The witch said, gesturing for you to follow her. “You must be tired.” “Where are we going?” You asked, as you followed behind her. “To our chambers of course.” She explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Ours?” The word struck you like a slap and you paused in the middle of the hallway. “Yes, my love. Ours. I’ve already prepared a bath for you.” She said, trying to remain unbothered by your reluctance. “A bath?” You looked at her stubbornly. “I don’t want a bath. I want to know what happened to my mother. I want to go home!” You allowed your voice to rise. As much as her story had affected you, you didn’t want to stay here with her. You didn’t know her. You didn’t want to live in isolation. “You are home.” The witch said suddenly, anger flashing across her features. “And your mother is fine. She’s already safely in town. Now come. I’ll explain everything once you are settled in our chambers.”

Her words were so infuriating, you could scream. She acted as if all of this was normal, as if because she told you a story you were meant to believe her, to trust her, to do as she asked… She acted as if you were this woman she once loved, but you had no memory of it. You knew nothing of the life she told you about. You didn’t love her, you didn’t even know her! “Perhaps that’s the problem.” The woman’s eyes slitted, her head tilting dangerously once more. “Perhaps if I help you remember, you will stop fighting all this.” She suggested. That’s when you remembered the voice you had heard in the back of your mind when you were in the woods, remembered the strange words she had used… That she could hear the voices of her children as they died… Could she read minds? Is that what she was doing right now? Had she been doing it all along? “Clever girl.” The witch spoke again, her mouth forming a smile that looked far from genuine. “Stay out of my head!” You shouted at her, but she was already stepping closer to you. It made you panic. You didn’t know what she would do, if she would hurt you and in your fear you did the only thing you could. You turned back and ran. “Where will you go, my love? There is no way out!” The witch shouted after you, her slow measured steps on the stone floor sending another jolt of fear through you. You ran till you reached the large chamber she had led you to, the candles there still burning, the torches framing the walls. There was no way out of this room, there was nowhere to hide, there was only the alter and the large statue that loomed over you threateningly. The resemblance with the woman after you was eery. Her story of prophecy daunting. Was all of this fate? Was it somehow pre-ordained? A story already written and told. A story where you were just a pawn, expected to play its part…

You refused to believe that. But what could you do? Face her? Fight her? With what? You didn’t know, but you had to try. So you made your way to the far end of the left wall and pressed yourself against it, using the statue and the shadows as covers, your breath ragged, your mind racing. The witch didn’t take long to walk into the light, her face unreadable as she scanned the room for your presence. “Come out, and we will do this the easy way.” The woman said threateningly. “Play this game, and we’ll have to do it the hard way. But one way or another, my love, I always win.” You said nothing. You weren’t foolish enough to respond to her and give away your hiding spot. You quieted down your thoughts, forcing yourself to remain calm as you watched her walk further into the room. “You’re only making this harder on yourself.” She called out, her eyes lazily moving over the few places in the room you could hide. “But if you want to play hide and seek… I guess I’ll just have to come find you, huh?” She moved passed the alter, briefly glancing behind it to check her suspicion that there was nothing there but dust, before moving to the right and towards the open space in the wall. There seemed to a niche near it, that you could only spot from your angle, but she must have known it was there. She probably knew every stone that made up this temple. When she reached the niche and confirmed that you were not there, she slowly started to move around the room, her walk casual, almost careless and as she neared you, you knew you wouldn’t be hidden from view for much longer. You had to make a choice. Stay and wait to be discovered, or try to make a run for it.

With a deep breath you darted from your spot and ran for the only doorway that led in and out of the room. You didn’t dare look back, didn’t think whether she would chase you, or simply let you wander aimlessly in the temple, until you finally gave up, you just had one goal. Make it through that door. But before you could even reach it, the door slammed shut and you were suspended in the air, hanging there mid-step, unable to move. “Caught you!” You said playfully, using her magic to float your body to the alter and lay you down on it. She took her time making her way to you, until she was towering above you. Her eyes burned through you as she took you in, struggling against her magic. It was almost adorable to her, that you thought it would do you any good. Before you could say a word, you saw her eyes turn red and the red tendrils of her magic swirled and grew around her. A crown appeared on her head, just as your mother had once described her and she looked equally regal and demonic in this state. “Now, my love… Let’s begin.”

[linaslore]

s.s. | the ripper's confession

stefan salvatore x afab!reader [one-shot]

author's note: well, i'm back in my tvd era and since I'm team stefan i came up with this. it's my first time writing smut, so please don't judge.

summary: you are determined to find stefan after klaus forced him to run away, but one night, you receive a mysterious visit.

warnings: MINORS, DNI. mentions of blood, death, ripper!stefan, language, smut with some plot, dirty talking, mutual masturbation., piv. english is not my first language. some stuff may not be accurate, so please don't mind if I'm not faithful to the shows storyline. not truly proof-read.

🚫please do NOT copy, translate or put my work through an AI.

It’s been about a month since Klaus convinced, well, blackmailed Stefan to travel with him. The hybrid forced him to turn off his humanity to “unlock his full potential” in exchange for his blood to cure Damon from a werewolf bite. And of course, Stefan accepted that deal because he would do anything for his big brother, despite all the arguments and disagreements they had over the last century. In the end, they loved each other immensely. 

So, the younger Salvatore has been M.I.A since then. Elena and Damon weren’t the only ones who were desperately trying to locate him. You were also dead set on finding him. He had helped you learn the ropes of being a vampire. 

Yeah, that’s right, you were also part of “blood lust club”, as Damon has often nicknamed your kind. Needless to say, you aren’t a vampire on your own volition. And worst of all, the way it happened was kinda stupid; or at least the first part. 

Last year, Alaric was training Jeremy, Matt, Elena and yourself on how to fight vampires with different weapons. Stefan and Damon were also there because they were going to help with actual vampire combat. Well, let’s be honest, Damon was there just to make fun of ‘baby Gilbert’ and ‘Bus boy’. But he couldn’t deny he didn’t enjoy “fighting” against Elena as he was really close to her and got to touch her body.

You were no better than him though. You focused more on casually staring at Stefan, who was wearing his typical white tank top that accentuated the muscles on his arms and back, than on the training itself. Anyways, Matt and Jeremy were practising shooting arrows at Stefan and even though they couldn’t hurt him, they weren’t doing it sooo bad – until Matt made a wrong movement and his arrow landed on your stomach. Everything happened so fast that not even the supernatural creatures were able to prevent it. 

Stefan didn’t hesitate for a second to give you his blood to heal you after removing the arrow from your body. Matt was truly sorry and you told him it was okay, that it was an accident but you weren’t perfect and held a small internal grudge against him. If you ever had the chance to train fighting only with him you would accidentally kick him in the groin.

However, you would have forgiven him more easily if that night had not been a full moon and Tyler had not freed himself from the Lockwoods' cellar and had not attacked you in the middle of the woods. Caroline, who was helping him with his werewolf problems, tried to heal you with her blood but it was too late, you were already dead. 

Hence, the combination of those two unfortunate events had resulted in you becoming a vampire. Stefan helped you to cope with your new condition. You honestly didn’t know what you would have done without him. And for this reason, you truly didn’t care if you had to move heaven and earth to save him from Klaus, or mostly, from himself, since he’s a ripper without his emotions and whenever he had come down from that high, he had serious symptoms of guilt and distress. You wanted to be there for him the same way he had been there for you.

One Friday evening, you were about to go out to meet with another witch to help you do a locator spell. Of course Bonnie was also helping to find Stefan, but she was dealing with getting her mom back after years of abandonment, so you didn’t want to bother her more than necessary. And besides, you needed the strongest witch you could find nearby Mystic Falls. You knew that Bonnie was powerful and had a lot of potential, but she was a relatively new witch. Whenever she had tried to do the locator spell, she had no results. Klaus somehow made Stefan vanish into thin air. 

So, as you were putting all the things you needed in your bag, someone knocked at your door. Who could it be? You had talked to Elena two hours ago and although you didn’t tell her specifically what you were going to do, you told her that you were going out for more clues of Stefan and that you would call her if you found something promising. 

You got closer to your door as you tried to listen with your vampire hearing to get anything from the person outside your apartment, but you stood there with nothing. You took a deep breath and opened the door, mentally preparing to attack. Time seemed to stop once you realized who it was.

“Stefan?”

You were too perplexed to say anything else. After all the time spent looking for him, he was there, at your front door. He was wearing a red plaid flannel and a pair of black trousers. He didn’t look injured or anything but something didn’t seem right. He didn’t look like the Stefan you knew. His eyes were different. The way he was looking at you was different. He may still have his humanity off. You needed to be careful.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”, he said as got closer to you. Your instincts made you give one step back but this didn’t stop him from walking towards you every time you got away from him. He closed the door once you were both inside. You had millions of questions for him, but you only managed to get one out.

“Did you escape from Klaus?”, you hoped his answer was affirmative.

“Not really, he’s too busy bickering with his siblings and putting a dagger in their chests if they say the wrong thing. He won’t mind if I'm gone", you were utterly confused. "So I thought I could pay you a visit and entertain myself with you”. 

When your back hit one of the walls of your apartment, he placed a hand on your cheek, slowly caressing it. However, there wasn’t love or anything similar in his eyes. All you could see was lust.

“What do you mean?”, you asked him, gathering the strength from God knows where. You were too close to him. One small movement and your lips could touch his.

“I came here to do something I should have done a long time ago”, he replied, his voice getting deeper and darker as the conversation continued. His eyes were fixed on yours, but he stole glances at your lips to get his message across.

“But, what about Elena?”, he rolled his eyes at your question and took his hand away from your cheek. He placed it on the wall beside your head.

There were a thousand things you could have said to him or certainly you could have managed all this situation a lot better, but the almost lack of space between you two didn’t allow you to think straight. In fact, you could not think. At all.

“I know I should care about Elena, she’s my girlfriend, after all, but I really don’t. And besides, do you think I’m not aware of how attracted she’s to Damon now? It seems being away from her gave her a free way to catch feelings for him”. He moved his face to whisper in your right ear. "And you don’t have to pretend with me”, he paused and your heart skipped a beat. “I know you don’t like her." He moved his face back to the original place. His lips barely separated from yours. "Having my humanity off has made me honest with myself. I’ve always thought you were really hot, but because of her, I pushed that thought to the back of my mind. But I cannot deny that sometimes when I see you, I cannot stop thinking about all the things I’d do to you."

That was it.

You lost whatever small ounce of self-control you had. You also have always thought Stefan was attractive but, of course, you didn’t make any move because of Elena. You weren’t the best of friends but she had knew him first and, besides, you'd like to think you had some sense of girl code in you. However, the closer Stefan and you had become as he helped you be a good vampire, the more difficult this task became. Your feelings for him grew stronger each day.

Moreover, a memory came up into your brain to help you justify what you were about to do. Damon, Elena, Jeremy and you had gone on a trip to find out if some clues about Stefan’s location were true. You stayed one night in a motel; the girls in one room and the boys in another. You couldn’t sleep at all because of the anxiety and disappointment over not finding him. So you heard Elena when she got up from her bed and exited your room. At first you didn’t pay much attention to her but then you started hearing some whispering. You used your vamp hearing and discovered she was talking to Damon. Then, they stopped talking and started kissing. You were about to get up and interrupt their wrongdoings but you decided against it because Damon would snap your neck and leave you to your luck far away from there.

“So, Stefan, what’s stopping you now?”, you retorted as he made you come back to reality by kissing your neck.

He gave you a devilish grin and proceeded to attack your lips without mercy for a while. Then, he placed his larger hands on your butt, cueing you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. You happily did so and continued to kiss him as if it was the last thing you’d do on this planet.

You couldn’t really believe that this was really happening. You were making out with Stefan Salvatore. Well, a humanity-less version of him. You knew this was not ideal, but you decided you’ll deal with the afterthoughts and consequences tomorrow. Without breaking the kiss, he moved you both to the couch and sat on it. You started messing his hair with your hands while you positioned yourself more comfortably to straddle him.

However, despite the fact he kissed you stupid, one question popped into your head and you wouldn’t be able to stop overthinking if you didn’t ask him, so you told him to stop.

“I know you want this more than I do. As a matter of fact, I can feel it”, directing his eyes to his lap, where you were seated. You were wearing a skirt and your wetness has trespassed onto his pants. “Why did you stop?”, he started kissing and slightly biting your neck.

“Are you going to regret this when you turn your humanity back on?” You did not have your own humanity off, so that question came out of your mouth filled with anxiety and a bit of pain. He stopped his work on your neck and looked deeply into your eyes.

“Not at all. Trust me, I’m just doing what humanity-on-Stefan would have liked to do but he was too much of a coward to dare”, he reassured you and you let out a shy smile. “Now, shall we go back to our hot makeout session?”

You found it somewhat sweet that no humanity Stefan asked you if you could continue what you were doing instead of simply kissing you again. It almost felt like he was taking care of you. Maybe the Stefan you knew was not too buried inside of the ripper.

As an answer, you kissed the corner of his lips and then he placed one of his hands on the back of your neck to direct your lips to his and the other on your thigh. You couldn’t take it anymore, you need him in all the possible ways.

“Stefan, please”, you whispered against his lips, dragging the final “e” a bit.

“Please what?”

“You know…”

“Mh, no, I don’t… Tell me what you want.”

You broke the kiss and looked at him once again. You were just discovering he liked being begged. He placed both of his hands on either side of your waist and raised his eyebrows.

“Please fuck me”

“Your wish is my command, princess”.

You didn’t have much time to process the way he called you because he started trailing a path of kisses from the corner of your lips to both of your breasts. In the meantime, you started unbuttoning his shirt.

“You’re so beautiful”, he started talking in between said kisses. “I can’t believe how long I took to have you like this”.

You moved to the waistband of his pants and removed his belt while he used one of his hands to put your panties to the side and massage your clit with slow but constant circles. You put your face on the crook of his neck to shut your moans. You didn’t want your neighbours to find out you were having sex but Stefan grabbed your loose hair with his hand and pulled your head back so he could look at you.

“No, no, no. I want to hear the pretty sounds you make, princess”, he demanded as he continued playing with your clit. His movements became quicker.

The way he said that fucking pet name again could just instantly make you cum. But he didn’t have to know that, so you lifted your body so you could lower his jeans enough to have access to his cock. You slid your hand inside his boxers and started stroking his dick slowly. You guessed he was well-equipped because you had stolen glances at him while he was wearing sweatpants and they made his groin more noticeable than jeans. Yet, you never imagined how gifted he was.

The groans he was letting out due to your actions were doing it for you too. You didn’t know that you could get more turned on than you already were at this point. 

“You’re taking care of me so well, Y/N”.

“Stefan, please, don’t stop”.

You were very close to finding your release and you could tell he was pretty close too. It seems he was reading your mind so he inserted one of his fingers inside your cunt over and over, while his thumb kept caressing your clit. You moved to work on his neck. You grazed your fangs along it, without actually biting him, while you kept your handjob.

“You’re about to cum, right, baby?”, he managed to say in between moans and sighs. He added one more finger.

You nodded as you could. All of this was too much for you. Not only are you seconds away from reaching your climax, but also because it was him provoking it. And on top of that, he called you baby. Probably it was an empty word for him, but for your sake, you’re going to pretend he actually means it.

And just like that, both of you came. Your orgasm hit you like a trainwreck. You have had sex before, but none of the other boys have made you feel like this. And he only used his fingers. You pressed your forehead against his as you came down from the high and smiled at him. And he gave you one of his. You hadn’t realized how much you missed his beautiful smile until he smiled at you.

You started moving in order to stand up from his lap but he immediately put his hands on your waist to stop you. And, of course he did because he was so much stronger than you.

“Where are you going? For your information, I’m not done with you”, he smirked again and your brain almost exploded at how hot he is.

“I just wanted to move this to the bedroom”, you answered using a really innocent voice and looking away because honestly you were feeling kinda embarrassed. You’ve never been this blunt with anybody.

“Oh, who would have thought?”, he remarked as he got up from the couch, still holding you with his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist again. “You were always so shy, so introverted, so obedient”, he attacked your neck with wet kisses again as he moved to your bedroom. If you were being honest, you were a bit disappointed that he couldn’t leave hickeys on your skin. They would stay for a couple of seconds but then disappear due to your supernatural healing abilities. You wanted him to leave some kind of mark on you.

“Who would have thought you would be this dirty?” he continued as both of you fell on your bed. He stayed on top of you this time. While making eye contact with you for the millionth time, he took off your skirt and panties in two swift movements. You finished removing his shirt and kept lowering his pants together with his underwear to his ankles. He did the rest and you took off your t-shirt. He smirked when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra. Now that you were both fully naked, his fingers touched teasingly your cunt again.

“I can believe how wet you still are after you came on my fingers. Is this all because of me?”. You nodded but he raised an eyebrow. He wanted you to use your words.

“Yes, Stefan. I’m a mess because of you”.

“Thank you, princess. I’d better reward you for making me feel so flattered.”

He grabbed his dick and started teasing your entrance. You looked at him to plead him to fuck you for once and for all. You loved the way he fingered you, but you needed more. You needed all of him. He stopped playing around with you and slammed his cock inside of you. He didn’t even give you time to adjust to his length and girth and he started rocking in and out of you roughly. You didn’t care, at all. You were having the time of your life.

As a reflex, you bit your inferior lip to shut your moans. He gave you a disappointed look.

“Remember what I said before, baby. I want to hear you”, he said as he pounded slowly but also deeply into your hole. “In fact, I want every single person and creature in this damn town to hear you. I want them to know who’s making you feel this good”.

You obeyed his request as you moaned without any restrictions. To hell with everyone and everything, you know you won’t regret all this, ever. Even if Stefan doesn’t give you the time of the day anymore after tonight.

He kept fucking you so good that you were ashamedly close to your second orgasm. You were constantly moaning his name quite loudly and rolling your eyes.

“You’re such a good girl. You’re making me feel amazing”, Stefan said while letting out heavy sighs.

Your vision started getting blurry and you couldn’t hear very well anymore. You were truly overwhelmed with pleasure. Stefan was going to be the real death of you. 

“I know you’re close, princess. Give me one more, please. Be my good girl”

You couldn’t take it anymore and you felt like your whole body was going to explode. Him calling you his good girl was the cherry on top of the cake. This second climax was just as intense as the first one, maybe even more. You no longer cared about hickeys anymore. He had surely ruined you for others.

He came shortly after you, letting out a sound similar to a growl and collapsed beside you on the bed. You turned your body to the side in order to face him. You couldn’t stop looking at him, at how beautiful he was. You saw something flickering through his eyes, but couldn't pinpoint what. Maybe some of his emotions were getting back. You were secretly hoping you would be the one that brought him back.

You also were aware of how heavily you two were breathing. For a second, you forgot you were technically dead. You let out a laugh as you put your bed covers over your two bodies.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing… it’s just before you came to my apartment, I was about to go out to meet a witch.” You continued to smile but his eyebrows frowned, still not understanding. “She was going to help me make a locator spell to find you.” He finally chuckled at the irony.

You couldn’t contain yourself and placed a hand on his cheek and got closer to kiss him deeply. He kissed you back with the same intensity and put his arm around your waist. You wanted to let him know what he meant to you; how much you liked him. And he seemed to get the message because you felt him tense up.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But I have to go…” he said, breaking the kiss.

“No, don’t. Please, can you stay?”, you looked at him, begging him with your puppy face to get him to do what you wanted.

“OK, just a while” He turned you around so he could spoon you from behind and kept you wrapped under his arms. His legs were also tangled with yours. “Until you fall asleep”.

“Thanks”

That’s all you have managed to say. It was quite difficult for you to fall asleep. All the things you did previously were  still fresh in your mind. Another question popped into your head. You prayed he hadn’t fallen asleep, but given that his breathing was still a bit irregular, you believed he had not.

“Stefan?”, you called his name quietly, afraid of speaking too loudly, in case all this had been a dream and you were about to wake up. 

“Yeah, I’m here”, you felt him put his face on the space between your neck and your shoulder.

“When are you coming back to us?”, you made a small pause. “To me?”

“Really soon, princess. I just need to find my window to finally get away from Klaus.”

You felt how he held you a bit tighter than before, as if he also thought this was just a dream and that you were going to disappear at any minute. Your body started to relax under his embrace. Finally, your mind drifted to a world in which you can stay like this forever. Away from all the bad things that happened around you two. Away to a world in which Stefan was yours and you were his. In this life, though, you were.

“I love you”, you blurted out almost inaudibly, without really processing what came out of your mouth due to your sleepiness, but Stefan caught it. 

He didn’t know what to say, his humanity was coming back, bit by bit. His thoughts were all over the place. He had to fight and conquer all his demons in order to defeat Klaus and make his way back to his home, and, to you. 

He also had to solve the ‘Elena situation’. He loved her, but he noticed how both of them drifted away from each other. Their relationship was not the same after she started to let Damon in. Of course, she wasn’t the only one to blame. He also had let you into his heart and he couldn’t help but notice how exciting the idea of starting a story with you was.

He later noticed that you fell profoundly asleep. Your breathing was calm and steady. He started slowly untangling himself from your body, trying not to wake you. He didn’t want to leave you like this, but he was afraid that Klaus, or his minions, would find where he went and harm you in any way. So, he had no other choice than parting now that hopefully you wouldn’t notice. Before exiting your room, and apartment, he gave you a light kiss on your forehead. As a promise that he’d be back soon, as he had said to you.

At least now he knew he had a reason to come back to Mystic Falls. He had you. And he knew you’d wait for him, no matter how long or what it takes. His princess would be there.

☀︎

the end!

well, i hope you'd enjoyed this. or that at least the smut part wasn't cringey. i'd love to read some feedback. thank you for reading!

[bettystonewell]

TO YOU I BELONG: CHAPTER 2

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Dean isn't looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain't real. He still has free will, and saving you is just another part of the job. Except, monsters aren't the only things you need saving from... 18+ only MDNI

Chapter Word Count: 4.1k words

Chapter Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, language, referenced physical abuse, referenced sexual assault, injuries to reader

A/N: I wanted to have this out a few hours earlier, but my brain couldn’t help playing around with things… Enjoy ❤️

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

The way the heat radiated off of you was just as Dean remembered, reminding him of what little memories he had of his mom of all things.

Your softness. The curve of your hips. Your body moulding perfectly into his had his blood thrumming in his ears and down below. Okay, that was nothing like his mother, he hoped, but he was enamoured. Had they been dealing with witches or wood nymphs, he’d say spellbound, struck by a potion or curse and growing soft.

It was hard not to be when his inner alpha acted so possessive over you.

‘Mine,’ it rumbled. Snarling and gnawing away at his resolve piece by piece, even though hours earlier, the responsibility and temptation of a mate was something he didn’t want.

‘She deserves better,’ he tried to reason with himself. Though anyone and anywhere different was an improvement on living here with your alpha in this middle of nowhere cesspool, and ‘We’d never hurt her,’ countered him back.

No, he would not. Nor would Dean ever try to scent or mark you while you were injured. He was determined by that. Knowing if he was gonna claim you, he’d have to wait and do things right. If you agreed and became his, anyone who tried to whisk you away as he had just done wouldn’t live to tell the tale, and…

What the hell was he thinking? Claiming you? Making you his?

How ‘bout where the fuck was your supposed alpha? The one whose stench soured your own. The one he hadn’t bothered looking for, and rather just picked up and took off with you.

Yeah…

Dean would never let you out of his sight. He’d never do this to you in the first place, either though, and his fingers flexed where they held you.

He was quick to release them.

‘Round your side and under your knee, the action caused your thighs to squeeze together and your breath to hiss on its inhale.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said.

He didn’t dare use omega again. Not now. Not to your face. His alpha could call you that term all it wanted, but with your matted hair now feathering the stubble on his chin when you shook yours, his gut churned.

“No. You’re helping me,” you said. “I should be thanking you.”

You may as well have struck him with a blade. Reached right through skin and flesh and into his stomach cavity and assisted the churning; further twisted his insides with your bare hands to yank them out, even. Hell, he’d do it himself. Save some time. Same effect.

“Yeah, well, I let you go back to your alpha before I knew how he’d treat you,” he said. And he should’ve known better, but so should you.

“I told you I—”

“Don’t.” He clicked his tongue. “You know I’ve thrown a lot of punches? Been on the receiving end of them too, and there’s no way those injuries were from a doorknob. So you wanna try me again?”

“I said I fell,” you whispered, and Dean stopped in his tracks, crackling the gravel beneath his boots. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Well, no, he could. You’d used that lie already in the park.

He bent his torso to leer a cocked brow, regretting that decision the second his spine moved. What little light there was above revealed more than he’d bargained for.

Yes, your thighs tightened above his arms. But so did every joint, muscle and nerve ending in his own body along with them.

Your right eye and the opposite cheekbone had distinct patches of mismatched colour, spreading. He’d say you were wearing lipstick. Only the last time he checked, makeup didn’t come with a clear, watery film around it. No. Dean knew an uppercut when he saw one. He knew the strength of an aroused alpha, too.

The shirt you wore had ripped more, and though his initials were still sitting right there, they were harder to distinguish because abrasions and puncture marks now covered them.

He felt sick. That churning in his gut would spill over you if he weren’t careful.

How?

Why?

You were his mate. Even without his scent, the swelling that billowed from your neck gave that away.

You weren’t in heat; from the scent, he wasn’t in rut, and that information just made Dean’s blood boil more than it already was. “Did he force his knot on you?”

“Ritchie…is my mate.” And your pause was telling.

“I don’t care who he is. That’s not what I’m asking you. What did he do to you?”

As if a switch had flicked, or in this case, floodgates opened. The stench of your alpha’s sack wafted up into his nose, along with more fear from you.

Your eyes filled with tears. Your limbs scrambled to pull away from him. The added stench of pine and a cheap aftershave that wasn’t his swept through the remnants of cum and sweat. But as much as that recoiled him, Dean still leaned back, taking a firm grip to shift your weight in his arms. He wasn’t letting you go.

He took a deep breath over the shame hitching in his throat, and, “I’m sorry,” he said again. Only this time, it held more than one meaning. He just hoped he could make it all up to you.

When Dean reached the motel carpark, his feet kicked up faster across the ground. “Sammy!” he yelled, not caring who heard him - he’d punch the lights outta anyone who got in his way.

His steel cap boot was raised and ready to strike the chipped wood as he yelled a second time, only for Sam to beat him to it by opening the door. His mouth, just as wide.

“Dean?”

There was no lost puppy in sight. No soft and caring younger brother who could get even a drill sergeant to crumble with one look. His eyes scanned their way across your form, though, widening along with everything else before they narrowed, honing in on where Dean’s initials should’ve been. “What—”

“What do you think?” Dean curled his frame through the door, allowing your feet to enter the room before him and the fluorescent lights to highlight the marring on your skin.

“I’ll get some ice,” Sam said, and swept his way to the fridge.

“Grab the first aid kit, too,” Dean barked back as he carried you over to his bed.

He dipped your toes to the floor, keeping his arms near as you found your footing; lifting a fraction to see the full extent of his claim. The bruising was still forming. Your skin wouldn’t turn black and blue for another couple of days, but the swelling, plus the dried blood and weeping cuts, showed early signs of infection.

His stomach stopped mid flip only to drop like a stone, heavy and solid. It sloshed the bile up his pipes, crashing over that hitch in his throat, and it burned. His shoulders shrunk. His knees buckled below him.

How could… Damn. Nope. He could ask that ‘til the cows came home. Until his mouth was black and blue from lack of air, it changed nothing. You were still injured. Most likely in more pain on account of holding yourself up now.

“Sit down, sweetheart,” he said. Course, it wasn’t a command, but your hesitation made even his toes clench.

He needed to sit. Chuck. He needed to punch your alpha’s head in - both of them - and he dropped to his haunches, encouraging you down, too. Arms rested on his thighs, holding himself up even though every molecule and thought weighed him down.

He could hunch over this way. Push the acid and lack of self worth back into the pit of his gut and away from you. Close enough to touch when needed - and fuck, he wanted to - his knot still twitched at the thought. Skin crawling with an itch he shouldn’t scratch, just to add on to all the other effects the sight of you did to him.

But what to say? What to do? You still sniffled. Gaze well directed away from him and looking down. It was really fucking awkward, spinning miles ‘round Sammy’s looks in the car.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to see those eyes of yours up close if they were gonna rival the puffiness of your injuries, but he tried getting their attention, anyway. His amber greens flicking over his initials again and running with it. Anything to drown out everything else.

“You know the, ah, the W stands for Winchester.” His boyish chuckle tethered off when your lip curled. “And you’re—”

Dean knew your name from the missing persons sheet, but hearing you repeat it then and there was a much needed do-over. If it weren’t for your injuries staring you both in the face, you could almost class this moment as normal if he tried hard enough. You’d been with him on the hunt after all, and if he just ignored the last two hours, his shower, the park, this could simply be agood old stich-up. Nothing more.

“Right.” He repeated your name, surprised at the way it rolled off his tongue with a pleasurable rumble. It suited you. Hell, it suited him. “Will you let me clean you up?”

“Okay,” you whispered, head nodding. Mouth and body out of sync until he gave you a nod back and your smile spilled a smidgen further into your cheeks.

There you were. Sort of. The omega he’d seen at the nest before he’d touched you and brought all this on.

His fingers flexed. Insides unravelled into a warmth that made his heart thrum faster and his head feel light. “Then we’re gonna need a few things,” he said, and stood up, distracting his mind and knot as he scoured the room for something that resembled a washcloth and a basin. Made easy by the grime and grease before him.

The film on the fridge. The stench of cigarettes competing with Ritchie’s. You didn’t belong with him, but you didn’t belong here either. That became more apparent as he moved throughout the room, collecting what he could.

Coffee-pot, brewed twice with water for cleanliness, then usage. A clean shirt from his duffle, sniff-tested first, and a bottle of Jack he found in Sam’s. By the time Dean returned to sit before you, chair and supplies in tow, he’d returned with the ice, and a compress was made. Dean’s shirt doing wonders.

“Here. Hold this.” He brought the icy bundle up to your mate’s claim and placed it over the inflamed skin. There was that outta sight, outta mind again, except your fingers brushed over his on handover and he took pause through your latest hiss.

It was like a scene from a crappy romance movie. Some guy getting all worked up over the girl. 

The kind were they were almost always soulmates, of course, and always meeting in high school or college and in the most convenient of places - funny ‘bout that.

You in the park, all banged up and injured. Your mate, nowhere to be seen. Of all the cases Sam could’ve found. Of all the people, being the one they needed to rescue was as far-fetched as one of those movies, too. But then there was that warmth from your skin. His damn gut and the newfound tingling of his nerves. It was all too real. 

Was this it? Was this his crappy movie?

You were here, and he was here and…Sam was hovering over his shoulder. 

“Ah, Dean, sorry to interrupt, but can I talk to you real quick?” he said from behind.

He didn’t want to talk to Sam. Real quick never meant real quick for starters, and he had a feeling he knew what he was going to say. 

“What’re you thinking?” he’d ask. Or “What’re you doing, Dean?” 

Well, Dean didn’t know himself, besides knowing he wanted to be near you. To keep you under his watchful eye. His alpha, ready to strike if Sam or anyone else so much as looked at you the wrong way. 

Damn instincts. But was it them, or the pull of being a soulmate? His body reacting and telling him he should want you? His alpha’s primal desires drawn to you like a mother, bonded and bound to her pups, after a single look?

His alpha snarled at that.

Dean sighed. ‘Okay, maybe not.’

He crooked his neck over his shoulder, flicking his eyes over your hand first. “Can it wait?” he said as they landed on Sam’s bitch face. 

“No, it can’t.” 

He should’ve known.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam said as he paced under the awning outside the room. His hands shoved in his pockets, straining them, arms stiff as a board, even though his elbows flapped everywhere like some giant chicken.

“She’s hurt.” Of course, Dean knew full well what he’s actually meant - he didn’t need to play dumb. He had planned to come to Sam in his own time after he’d finished helping you as intended. Thanks to the interruption, though, he was now indignant, standing tall even with the messed up insides. They still dragged him down, but he put up a fight. 

More so, when Sam struck the cord, he wished to forget.

“What happened to her being nothing to you?” he said all too knowingly.

“I wanna help her.” He needed to.

“And you can. I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing. She already has a mate and—”

Dean shook his head. “The son of a bitch raped her, Sammy,” he said, self-blame replacing his usual gruffness and spitfire. He wasn’t at fault for what had happened to you. He understood that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t hold some accountability.

Your alpha had struck you because of him. He’d attacked you. Forced himself on you in what Dean could only presume to be a bout of jealousy, and all he saw was the part he’d played by taking you home to him. 

“You know that’s not on you.”

“Yeah.” Yet his eyes grew dim all the same. He lowered them, focusing on the ground. His boots scraping the pavement, now the most fascinating thing in the world over Sam’s, which widened when he said, “And I ain’t letting her go back to him. If she doesn’t want me, that’s her choice, but there’s no way that fucker will ever lay a hand on her again.

“O-kay. Let’s ignore the part about you wanting her for a second. What’re you planning to do about him? If they’re bonded, chances are he’ll be sniffing ‘round here soon.”

Dean was hearing what his brother was saying. He was, and he had a solid point. He’d need a plan to set you free, but bonding? “I don’t think there’s a bond between ‘em. I found her in the park outside their building, and he was nowhere in sight.”

“He could be asleep?”

Dean’s chin receded into his neck. “You realise how ridiculous you sound?” 

“Do you?” 

Those words turned Dean’s body still as if he were made of stone. Eyes stuck and narrowed like the wind had changed. Jaw tight. Maybe he had fallen asleep after popping his knot. The asshole hadn’t filed the report when you were taken, your coworker had, and “I’ll deal with him if he shows,” he said.

“Dean. That’s not what—”

“Are we done?”

Sam sighed. His right hand left his pocket, and he gestured back to the room behind. “I’ll be in the car.”

Dean hadn’t even finished closing the door behind him when the smell of fresh tears flooded his nose. He’d swept across the tattered carpet once again and sat on the end of the bed next to you before his mind had even registered it was happening.

Just as his own instincts had pushed him to you, yours buried your face in the crook of his shoulder. His flannel soaked up your tears.

He wanted to ease your pain, but what could he say? He didn’t have the right to comfort you because he hadn’t protected you when you needed him. His soulmate. Not that he understood what that meant.

He was a grunt, with nothing to his name, and you were, well, he still had no fucking clue besides knowing you had his initials on your skin.

The norm was for him to want you. The scary thing was, he did. Far too much for his liking.

He had lusted over you and continued to do so even now, when he was supposed to be helping you. If your mate’s jealousy was dangerous, Dean’s instincts were more so.

They swooped his arm behind your back, letting your fingers grip his shirt. Letting your tears soak into it. He even had the audacity to brush his lips through your hair and place a chaste kiss, only to feel disappointed when your body tensed and you let him go.

“I’m sorry.” You sniveled and swiped at your eyes. Only to wince when your palms got too close. “Where’s your brother?”

Of all the things you could have said, your concern for someone other than yourself had him more smitten. There was seriously something wrong with him.

“He’s sleeping in the car tonight.”

Your hands wiped at your eyes, and you pushed yourself out of his hold. “I don’t want to put him out.”

He should’ve been happy you’d considered Sam, but his inner alpha snuck through, rough and a little snappy. “He’s sleeping in the car tonight.”

“I don’t want to put him out.”

“You’re not,” he muttered, reaching down to pick up his now wet shirt that had dropped to the floor below. He didn’t want to talk about Sam. He didn’t wanna talk about your mate either, though he knew it was inevitable. “Let’s get more ice on your neck. We gotta stop that swelling.”

He stood up and moved to the table where Sam had left the bucket earlier, and after refilling his makeshift compress, came back and took your hand again. “Here.” He positioned it over the icy bundle to hold it in place. “You’ll need some on your eye too, but that bite is a priority at the moment.”

Of course, there was still that ulterior motive to keep the offending section of skin covered, but as selfish as it was, Dean hoped that by forcing his own scented item over the top of it, you might form a bond with him.

Yeah. He was delusional, so he set the internal struggle aside, and got to work.

His hand reached for a piece of gauze floating in the now tepid water and squeezed the excess back into the coffeepot, while the other cupped your chin and pulled you to face him. With steady fingers, he brought it up to your cheeks and dabbed as gently as he was able.

“Sorry,” he said when you hissed at the touch. He needed a recording if it would save his throat some pain and allow that lump to heal. “If you wanna do this yourself, I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

“No.” Your head jiggled more than shook. “It’s bad enough I can feel it.”

Dean could understand that. Not that he feared what he saw. For him, what he couldn’t grasp was seeing your face marred that crushed him, raising the question of how.

He knew the logistics of it. You’d been struck a number of times, and while he still suspected jealousy was the cause, it made no sense. Why would your mate do this to you?

“Do you love him?” He knew he was crazy to ask, but truthfully, he wanted to know if this douchebag did or not.

“What?”

It was a simple question, and very telling that you answered that way.

“Your alpha. Do you love him?” He repeated, waiting for any unspoken clues you might give.

You took your time. For Dean it was agonising, but when you did speak, his heart panged with relief and dismay. “I thought I did,” you said. “But I didn’t think he’d do this either.”

Dean’s eyes glassed over your neck. Your claim didn’t swell like that earlier. It seemed unusual to him for an Omega not in heat. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

“I met my soulmate.”

He swallowed hard. “So he did do this because of me.”

Your head moved against him. “He didn’t believe me when I told him you didn’t want me.”

You had struggled to finish your sentence, but you didn’t need to for Dean to understand. Though he couldn’t see your face, the room was now flavoured with rejection, and while it relieved his doubts of self-worth, it upset him to know you thought that.

“But I do want—”

“Please don’t. That’s not you doing the talking. Your instincts are.”

Just as you’d said, your neck and the punctures that formed a ring around it continued to draw his eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“I do. Mine are affecting me, even though I have a mate. If you had wanted me, you wouldn’t have taken me home.”

Dean often struggled with words, spitting out whatever came to him at the moment, whether they were full of shit or something else. But he wouldn’t let that thwart him. Not when the stakes were this high.

He dropped everything and adjusted his arms to scoop you up into his lap.

Your chest heaved, your brow grew sweaty, and his sharp senses heard the blood as it flowed to all the correct places in your body. Inside his, it did the same.

“You’ve got it all wrong.” Dean’s fingers moved on their own accord, pulling the hand and arm that attached to them to trace over the scratches and cuts that covered your shoulders. “I thought you’d be safer with him.”

“So did I,” you said. And it sliced him deep.

You hadn’t meant it that way, but Dean’s psyche was so full of self-loathing that even though he wished you weren’t, he had already decided you were fearful of him.

Depleted and forever quick to act, he lifted you with ease and set you back onto the bed. “I should get you some more ice.”

He picked up his shirt and moved to stand, but before he could, your gentle touch gripped his arm. “Alpha?” The pleasant sound warmed his ears and tugged at his chest. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not scared of you.”

You were more perceptive than Dean thought.

“Well, you don’t need to be scared of him anymore either,” followed the smirk that curled his lips as his back turned away from you. He really did need ice.

Four hours later, Dean was still wide awake while you slept under a pile of blankets in the bed next to him. Wearing sweats instead of his jeans, he sat up against the headboard. His ass, purposely on top of the covers. His knot just as alert as he was. 

Morning wood had never been more painful.

It hadn’t taken long for you to go down for the count after the first-aiding was done, no doubt exhausted as well as sore, but he worried about how your body would react when it woke up.

Last he’d seen you walking, your step held a jockeys gait. All movement, purposeful and slow. 

You’d had no issues showering. It had just taken some time. Maybe if he’d helped, things would’ve gone faster, but he didn’t dare offer. Even though his inner alpha wanted him to.  

You’d also had no issue stealing his jacket, having taken it when you thought he wasn’t looking. The washed-denim sleeve poked out, as did your toes next to it. The sight of both bringing out his biggest grin. 

No wonder he couldn’t sleep. It was just a shame he had to confront your mate. 

He wasn’t scared at all. Nope, far from it. He couldn’t wait to punch the fucker’s lights out. But you were still his, and a small fragment of Dean’s mind feared you may choose him, even after the horrible treatment you’d endured at his hands.

With a groan, he leaned over and fished for his phone. It was close enough to six to not be too early for coffee, and he swung his bow legs to the ground, stretching his arms out wide; gaining two large cracks from his neck and shoulders as muscle and bone satisfyingly pulled away from each other. 

He then braced himself to stand with his hands on his thighs, but the sound of blankets shifting and a fresh wave of omega scent laced with undertones of him flew under his nose, stopping him in his tracks. It brought another smile to his face and another rush of blood to his groin.

But he had a job to do. A mission. A quest. And without further ado, he jumped to his feet and shuffled towards the bathroom, keeping his morning wood pointing in a direction he hoped you couldn’t see if you were to rouse. There was no way of hiding it when he was standing.

He was quicker about things behind the closed door. No one could argue Dean Winchester wasn’t a multi-tasker. From brushing his teeth to taking a much needed leak, he accomplished it all under the icy stream he’d chosen to cool himself off with.

Thoughts of you, Ritchie, and what he was going to do plagued him while he washed. They continued to follow him as he dried off, then carefully slunk through the main room to further afield outside, where he found Sam cramped on Baby’s back seat.

The deep brown mop of Sam’s hair rose behind the matte black paint of the Impala’s side, sticking up against the window from the static that came with a cooler morning’s air.  

“Rise and shine, Sammy.” Dean fisted the glass above his brother’s head for added effect. Sam was lucky he hadn’t opened the door on him, because that had crossed his mind. 

He wasn’t that cruel. Mediocre at best.

“I need you awake, man,” his voice hissed through the cracked open window.

“Dean?” Sam’s startled head flayed around the Impala’s cabin.

He stepped back to give his brother space to get out, throwing the room keys at him when he surfaced with no warning. 

Sam’s large hands fumbled as they landed on his chest. The silver tumbling through his knuckles like a creature come alive. “What’s going on?” 

“I need you on babysitting duties.”

“Babysit—Where are you going?” Sam stared at him dumbfounded until Dean flashed his best smirk.

One could say he was being cocky, and maybe he was. But in this instance, he needed all the confidence he could muster.

“To deal with Dick,” he said.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Are we feeling the connection? Do we hate her mate? Did I name him Ritchie just so I could make a tonne of Dick jokes? You bet I did! Have I used it enough? Eh, time will tell, but I sure had fun with the next one!

Chapter 3 - Confronting - 07/03

Inside, Dick’s every movement was under his scrutiny. He wanted him to fuck up. To say or do something stupid. That way, Dean had probable cause. It would make whatever he ended up dishing out sit better on his conscience if he heard Dick admit it himself.

So Dean poked the bear. Outright asking him, “Did she say that while you were raping her?”

“I marked her as mine.”

Those words were Dick’s second mistake. He’d just given Dean the chopping block.

“And I suppose she didn’t ask you to stop when you hit her and tried to scratch my initials out of her skin, either?” Dean’s voice remained void of all emotion, even as the anger bubbled in his gut. If he held a mirror to his soul, Dick’s face would have been its reflection.

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[sodamnradd]

“Those are rotten for you.”

Draco jumped, startled by Granger’s presence. He hadn’t heard her coming. How alarming. He needed to be switched on at all times.

A beat too late, he replied, “What do you reckon will kill me first? This,” he lifted the cigarette, “or the war?”

“They turn your teeth yellow.”

His grin bore no kindness. “Who am I trying to impress?”

He’d joined The Order three weeks ago, shared this house with her for eight days, and this was the first time she’d approached him to chat. He was in no mood.

She shouldered past him into the house. “Goodnight, Malfoy.”

-

Granger reached for his cigarette, incensed. “Put that out! They’ll see it.”

He stretched his hand beyond her reach. “We’re bait. Our job is to be seen.”

“Not so obviously.” She Accio’d the cigarette and extinguished it in a huff. “It’s like you want us to get killed.”

Why was she here? She was too crucial for this role. Too valuable to have Draco, the team pariah, as her back up. If he screwed up, she could die.

She didn’t, of course, because when the crack of Apparation shattered the silence, they fought fiercely side by side.

-

A stone skittered down the cliff face and Draco glanced up to find Granger approaching. She swung her legs over the ledge, sitting beside him.

“Can I have some of that?” Her knuckles were dirt-stained. Tears shiny on her cheeks.

He passed her the cigarette.

She took a generous drag, handed it back to him, then put her head between her hands and began to sob.

He didn’t know how to comfort her.

What was another casualty during war? But Granger internalized every death as if she’d committed it herself.

He offered her another drag.

She wound her arms around him instead, as if the offering had been an invitation, and buried her face in his chest.

He stiffened. Flicked the cigarette over the edge of the cliff. Then, gradually, placed his arm around her.

The sun slipped behind the endless woods and still they sat there.

-

Draco stubbed his cigarette beneath his shoe and lit another, pacing back and forth.

“I should be at the Forest of Dean tonight,” he said the moment Kingsley entered the room.

“You’re needed here,” replied Kingsley without give.

“Granger and I have been partners for weeks—”

“We’ve told you not to get comfortable—”

“That’s utter bollocks!”

“She’ll be fine,” interrupted Ginny. “She’s with Ron.”

Draco blew smoke in her face.

“Prick,” she spat, storming away.

-

“It’s not that deep,” insisted Granger. But her voice told him otherwise.

He sent her up to his room. Furiously nicking Blood-Replenishing potion and bandages from the emergency supply.

He cleaned the wound on her arm and wrapped it meticulously. Fuming when she flinched. He would strangle Kingsley with his bare hands. This was why they couldn’t be apart.

As Granger slept, Draco smoked through a pack, never taking his eyes off her. What if the spell had slashed an artery? What if it had been a different curse?

There was no freedom in war, but nobody would stand between him and this witch ever again.

-

He was sharing a dart with Susan Bones when Granger entered the yard.

Unaware they had company, Bones boldly proposed, “Want to shag?”

Draco watched Granger’s eyes flick between them before she retreated.

“I’ve got someone,” he said, watching her shadow disappear. He didn’t yet, but hopefully soon.

-

Granger said, “Will you brush your teeth?” as Draco discarded his cigarette.

He considered saying no, but decided it was in his best interest to listen.

In his very best interest, in fact, when she crawled onto his lap upon his return. Large brown eyes blinking up at him. “Do you want to kiss me?” she asked.

He dipped forward to show her exactly what he’d wanted for weeks, but she pressed her fingers over his lips. “Are you sleeping with her?”

He knew who she meant, but still asked, “Who?”

“Susan.”

He kissed her fingers. “Never. Nobody.” 

She replaced them with her mouth.

-

“Where are you going?” he growled, as Granger rolled out of bed. It was still dark.

“I’m being summoned.” She searched blindly for her bra, her knickers.

He checked his wand, finding it unnervingly cold. They were separating them again.

He grabbed her wrist, and she stumbled into his arms. “Draco!”

He kissed her deeply, breathlessly. “Run away with me.”

“But—"

“We’ll still fight,” he added, lighting a smoke. “On our own terms. They’re corrupt, Hermione. We’ll wind up dead with them.”

She hesitated. They had discussed this many times. Going rogue. There was more to be done without pseudo-authorities policing their moves. Plus, they couldn’t be apart anymore without losing their minds.

“On one condition,” she declared, snatching the cigarette from his fingers and flicking it away. “You’ll quit smoking.”

He watched it burn out. Then considered the witch in his bed. Perhaps she didn’t know it yet, but he would do anything for her.

Draco and Hermione were gone before sunrise.

(848 words, photo on AO3)

[frightwrite]

Demon Boyfriend: Larthan

CW: Dubcon

NSFW

Female Reader x Male Demon

This was requested to me from a lovely anon! Tysm! ♡

The rain hitting your window came down in a symphony of light taps against the glass. You had been watching the weather for a while now, your grimoire opened to a spell page as the book rested on your lap. You had a cup of tea in your free hand, idly sipping on the milk and honey flavored beverage as your head pressed against the cool glass of your window. The sun had been setting before the dark rain clouds swallowed up the rest of the light from the sky. You assumed it was around 7 or 8pm and given that it was a full moon that night it was a perfect time to try and brush up your knowledge of the summoning spell you were going to do later after the storm cleared up.

 You lived alone in your small cabin in the woods, finding the seclusion from the main town a welcome presence when it came to experimenting with your craft. Being a novice witch meant you needed all the time and patience to slowly hone your skills and update your grimoire. You placed your mug next to you, your hands brushing over the yellowed pages of the old book as you stared down at the scribbled instructions of your spell. It was written in your handwriting, however unlike most of the other works in your grimoire it was given to you by a senior witch. 

You had attended a coven meeting not too long ago, sitting in with other witches both beginners and experts alike. Usually during those meetings you would say the chants and resonate with the others but linger in the back during the small after party and mini snack breaks. Social situations weren’t your forte, yet you can hold small idle chatter every now and then if you felt confident enough to start one. You mostly kept to yourself and you were content with the simple life you had made for yourself. 

One of the senior witches had approached you as you stood off to the side sipping on your cider. The seance had gone well and most of the meeting was wrapping up with other witches idly chatting to one another. One of the senior witches had approached you, eager to share with you a spell she had learned would be perfect for the upcoming full moon. The senior witch had recommended you obtain a familiar to help amplify your powers more and you took the advice with great anticipation. You spent the rest of the party asking her questions for how to summon a familiar and scribbling down the notes into your grimoire. 

You thumbed through the pages containing the notes now, refreshing your memory of what needed to be done before attempting the summoning ritual. You had gathered the necessary items before. A dagger, the paint needed for the circle, some offerings and a few sticks of incense. You finally decided to get the ritual started now that the clouds had cleared up. The sooner the better.

You had created an open area in your living room, moving away tables and loveseats to have enough space to draw the summoning circle into the wooden floor. After lighting the incense sticks and a few candles, you took your ceremonial knife, slicing into the palm of your hand and offering the scarlet blood that flowed from your wound onto the circle. You peered over at your notebook, uttering the chant that the senior witch had given for you. You kept repeating the chant, eyes shut tight as you began to feel something within your chest get pulled out of you.

There was a gust of air that flowed around you, yet you kept the chant going and your face cast downwards as you tried to focus all your energy into the circle. Suddenly the air stopped, everything came to a still yet you could sense that you weren’t alone. A large humanoid hand touched underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards towards the being in front of you. You finally opened your eyes, a quiet gasp leaving your lips as you were face to face with a demon. You flinched away, falling backwards onto your floor as you scrambled to get away from the being. He towered over you a good three feet or so. He almost touched the top of the ceiling in your apartment. He had ash colored skin, black as night and his eyes that seemed like two sparks of amber in place of regular eyes. They glowed brightly in the dark of your living room. He wore nothing, and his skin looked as though it was covered in something slick and oily. A large tail swished behind him, horns atop his head with a flame burning between them. He had no nose, and his sharp pointed white teeth protruded from his mouth. He glanced around your home before his eyes peered down at you. 

“I am the demon Larthan. You have summoned me, human?” His deep voice inquired, approaching you as you tried to crawl away from him. He was quick to grip you by the ankle, towering over you as his ember like eyes stared you down. “Strange. It has been some time since someone of your kin has requested my services.” 

“Your services?” You finally found your voice, your eyes flicking for a moment to your discarded grimoire. “But, I didn’t summon a demon…” 

Larthan let out a loud, mocking laugh. “Please, if you didn’t want to summon me, you wouldn’t have drawn my sigil.” 

You blinked at his words, brows furrowing as you thought back on your interaction with the senior witch. Did she set you up? Summoning a demon was no easy feat and it was something that drained a lot of your strength. Were you truly capable of that? The proof was right in front of you, a strange glint in his eyes as he loomed over you. 

“You need to leave.” You finally found a bit of firmness in your voice, sitting up now as the confidence briefly came back to you. If you were capable of summoning a demon then surely you were even more capable of casting him out. You raised a hand to try and muster up some of your magic to be of use, only to have his larger hands clamp over yours. He grabbed both of your wrists, pinning you onto the floor. 

A long black tongue licked the side of your face, then your neck, lingering there for a moment as you tried to back away from him. He let out a groan, seemingly relishing the fear that flashed across your face as a low chuckle rumbled from his chest. 

“It has been some time since I ravaged a witch.” He used one hand to keep your wrists above your head, his other clawed hand moved to explore your body, his claws grazing over your breasts. Your nipples pebbled over the thin fabric of your nightgown as he teased them, a whimper leaving your lips while you struggled in his grip.

You squirmed, trying to wiggle your hands in an attempt to cast something, anything to get him off of you. “Let me go!” Your voice quivered, all of your attempts to escape his grasp becoming feeble. He hummed again, a low rumble in his chest as one of his hands finally latched onto your breast. He fondled it, causing you to press your thighs together and bite your lip, suppressing another sound from escaping them.

“You want to be rid of me that badly?” He mused, suddenly releasing you of his hold. The demon moved back to, resting his back against the wall as he sat with his legs spread open. “Very well, I can abide by your wish.” 

You sat up, rubbing at your sore wrists, still flustered from his obscene touches as you frowned at him. There was silence between the both of you for a minute as you waited. You glanced around the room, yet nothing was happening, Larthan still sat before you watching your every move with his glowing eyes. 

After another beat a look of confusion crossed your face. “Why aren’t you leaving?” 

“You must fulfill our contract.” He stated as a matter of factly. 

“Contract?” You tried racking your brain to see if anything you had chanted stated a contract of some sort. When nothing came to mind you shook your head. “I didn’t make any sort of deal with you.” 

Larthan let out an annoyed sound now, as though he had a right to be annoyed by the situation. You were the one that was tricked after all. “You made one as soon as you summoned me. I must fulfill my duties to you before I am sent back.” 

You squinted at him, highly skeptical of his supposed contract as you inched away from him. “What sort of duties exactly?”

He said nothing, instead a slit between his legs split to reveal what you assumed was his dick. It didn’t look like a human male’s anatomy, instead it was similar to a tentacle. It was thinner at the tip and had more girth towards the bottom. It was already erect, precum already leaking from it. You gasped a bit at the sight of it, before staring at him with wide eyes. 

“I can see your confusion.” He spoke, his hand reaching down to his cock as he stroked it a few times. More precum leaked from it and you could see the color of it was a very light purple. You stared at him in awe, earning a breathy chuckle from him. “A witch may find great use in my semen…it holds special purposes for their craft.”

“Can’t you just jerk yourself off and then leave?” You hesitantly asked, only for him to laugh at you again.

“You are rather clueless, it’s adorable.” He shook his head, his hand letting go of his penis. “No. I’m afraid it is up to you. You want me gone so badly? Then do it yourself, little witch. You did summon me after all.” 

You licked your lips that suddenly went dry, gaze locked on his cock. It twitched slightly, aching for some sort of stimulation. “I can go at it anyway I choose?”

Larthan nodded. “As long as it is you touching me, I have no preferences.” 

You stared at him for a moment before cautiously slipping off the strap of your nightgown. You stood up, letting it fall to the floor as Larthan’s gaze focused on your body. He seemed transfixed on your many folds and curves, drinking in how beautiful you looked before him. You felt embarrassed by the way he was looking at you, and you avoided his gaze which he chuckled at. He relaxed against the wall, beckoning you to come forth. You slowly walked towards him before sitting down on your knees. Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, barely enclosing around it before you slowly began moving your hand.

A hiss came from Larthan as he leaned his head back. His tail thumping against the floor in need. You opted to just jerk him off and have him be on his way, though the heat pooling in your lower stomach had you feeling a bit more bold. You bent down to lick his cock from the base to his tip, leaving a chaste kiss on it as he groaned in pleasure. You stared up at him, his gaze finally meeting yours as you backed away from him. 

He was about to scold you that it wasn’t enough, only for you to press your breasts around his dick, squishing them together. You took his tip into your mouth, sucking his cock while your breasts stroked the lower half of his dick. Your head bobbed up and down, greedily slurping the precum that leaked from him as you gave him a tit job. 

Larthan let out growls and roars of pleasure, surely waking any of your surrounding neighbors. You would have to remember to apologize for whatever noise complaints you were about to get. His clawed hand found its way into your hair, gripping it tightly as you kept sucking him off. Your tongue rolled around his tip, his breathing quickened as jerked his hip upward a few times before pressing his cock into the back of your throat. Tears pooled in your eyes from the sudden intrusion yet you still swallowed. His cum tasted sweet as he came into your throat. You almost choked on how much cum his orgasm produced before he allowed you to pull away from him. You fell back, breathing heavily as he came down from his high. He leaned forwards, and cradled your face, wiping away any of the cum that still lingered on your lips with his thumb. Your tongue darted out to lick his cum, staring up at him with lust filled eyes. 

“You were a lovely experience, little witch.”  He hummed, brushing his thumb against your lips once more before he moved back to the summoning circle. You felt saddened by him needing to leave now, despite it being what you had wanted earlier. Your arousal was clearly soaking your panties and you found yourself wanting more of him.

“Wait…” You called out to him just as the circle began to light up again, the unknown winds from before filling the room. 

Larthan chuckled, amused by your sudden change. “You have your grimoire. You may summon me anytime you like.” With that he gave you a bow and the circle’s light filled the room. You sat there in your empty apartment, still turned on from the experience as you began to slowly clean up your apartment. The grimoire was still open to the summoning page, and you placed a bookmark onto it before closing the book, eager for the next full moon. 

[More Monsters]

[emryslore]

STEREK RECS

Tag; A/B/O Dynamics as promised.

Anchor Point 53K (E) by Almaie

After a series of misfortunes, Stiles Stilinski—grieving the loss of his mate and drifting through the aftermath—returns to Beacon Hills with his son, hoping to rebuild their lives. What begins as a reluctant homecoming slowly unfolds into something unexpected: healing, reconnection, and the quiet rediscovery of love, community, and purpose.

I didn't get a choice, but I Loved you anyway 259K (M) by Death_Cap

Derek Hale had a lot of things that happened to him his whole life. It’s not surprising to John, Stiles or anyone in the pack that also applied to his life back in New York. Derek Hale didn’t get a choice. Not in what happened to him, not in what he lost, and not in how the world kept moving without him. But life has a way of circling back, and when it does, Derek finds himself face to face with the one thing he thought he’d never have: a second chance. But peace was never meant to last in a town like this. Shadows are moving beneath the surface. Old names resurface. New threats are watching. And if Derek wants to protect the life he’s trying to rebuild, he’ll have to decide just how far he’s willing to go.

Unexpected Circumstances 15K (E) by Muzik_Freak

Stiles, a local small-town mage, is a 20-year-old omega that has mostly resigned himself to being unmated for the rest of his life. A chance encounter with a starving wolf in the woods sets his life on a completely different trajectory. A simple companionship explodes into a heated one, and everything falls into place from there.

Unexpected Beginnings 22K (E) by EvanesDust

When Stiles asked Derek about settling down and having kids of his own, he brushed it off. He loved his life exactly as it was. However, Stiles's question planted a seed that began to grow—especially when Stiles offered to be his surrogate. Derek suddenly couldn't imagine having a child with anyone else. …or the one where childhood friendship blossomed into more.

Family Foul. 15K (NR) by Missy_Moo

Dereks parents are sick over the holidays meaning that being the oldest Derek and Stiles were hosting this year. Stiles is apprehensive about the whole thing having only met 3 of the 12 Hale siblings. Being 6 months pregnant is also not making him the best host for the holidays. Or The Hale siblings are assholes who think Stiles should be waiting on them hand and foot while they stay. Little digs and jibes are digging at him until it blows up in their faces and their eldest alpha brother finds out all the things they’ve been saying about his omega.

mirror, mirror 4K (T) by blueinkedbones

It occurs to Derek, eventually, that this is nesting. That this would be, if he was—If Stiles were—If this were a very different story. He’s giving him shelter. Because the alternative is handing him back to a psychopath. He’s bringing him food. Because without it, he’d starve. He’s not drinking through the night anymore. Because he needs to be alert, and ready. Until he finds Stiles somewhere safe.

Naps are nature’s way of reminding you that life is nice 3K (G) by FicLogia

Melissa puts the patient chart away and comes closer to the omega. “It’s normal to change your mind. Especially for someone in your position.” Young, unmated, barely graduated. The omega ob-gyn has seen it one too many times. Derek shakes his head, runs a hand over the arc of his belly, relishing the feel of it, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. “I want this baby. We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” “Then why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

BONUS - Werefox stiles + Maze Runner crossover + one sided sterek

I fell heavy into your arms 3.8K (G) by honkhonkmf

The McCall pack fight a witch who hits Stiles with a spell that puts him into a coma, coincidentally Kira's cousin also just happens to come to live with her and her family. There's no way those two could know each other but the McCall pack are about to find out that they don't know everything about the goofy, lovable 'human' in their pack.

[madelynraemunson]

NEED…MORE…EX-HUSBAND!EDDIE…I AM FERAL AND FOAMING AT THE MOUTH PLEASE BLESS US MORE I’M BEGGING

IT’S ANGST O’CLOCK!!!

𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠)

ex husband! eddie x fem!reader

“all that still matters is ‘love ever after’ — after the life we’ve been through” — life after you // daughtry

WC: ~950 words

3AM. The witching hour.

The air smells of twilight musk and marinating dew. It's pitch black all around you, the nearest gas station being an agonizing 1.3 miles away. You're also 10 miles from Hawkins, pulled over in nothing but platform heels, a black mini dress, and expired pepper spray in your purse. To make matters worse, the only friends up who seem to be up at this hour are hungry bears and obnoxious, chirping crickets. And skinwalkers if you're where you think you are.

A horrible ending to a girls night out. Just what you needed.

Alone and afraid, you decide to call the number one person on speed dial, whose gradual distaste towards you renders itself very evident from the moment he answers the phone.

"What?! I'm trying to sleep."

"Eds." you whimper into the phone. "I need you."

There's a long pause in response to your petrified sobs, followed by the clicking noise of a phone keyboard before you hear cursing and the frantic ruffling of sheets.

"I’ll be there."

"Well?"

You watch as Eddie crinkles his forehead in concentration, examining your car while his soot-tainted hands explore every crevice of your hood. Routine maintenance has never been as issue because you've always had a personal mechanic at your feet. But since the divorce, you've gotten pretty bad about it. Otherwise, the you and Eddie wouldn't be stuck in this situation. Obviously.

"Weeelp." Eddie sighs, stretching out every bit of the syllable. He slams the hood shut. "She's just about blown out. You're lucky that thing didn't overheat too much with you in it."

You've prided yourself in not needing a man to change your tires, wiper fluid, OR oil nowadays. But in the midst of your journey towards self love and independence, you somehow forgot that your car could also overheat.

"Oh..”

You try not to watch intently as Eddie cleans his hands off with his hanky, the one he keeps neatly tucked into the back pocket of his flattering dark, denim jeans. Your eyes then trail towards his leather jacket, which housed his broad shoulders and delicious waist so nicely, you would've thought it had been tailored just for him. And you could just about fall right into him when he angles his torso towards you, his sculpted jawline glistening in the moonlight — but nearly not as glistening as those gorgeous chocolate eyes, the ones he used to his advantage during your marriage to get you to forgive him for whatever mistake he seemed to make that week. Before you could fawn any further, Eddie snaps you back to reality.

"When was the last time you put some coolant in this thing?"

"Some what?"

"You keep Prestone at the house?" Eddie pesters. "Antifreeze? Peak?"

Cheeks reddening, you shake your head. "No.”

"You get this thing examined often?"

“Not unless you do it," is what you shamefully admit. “For the most part…”

Eddie's face scrunches out of frustration. He knew this would happen.

"God, I hate when you do shit like this," he snaps. "For all I know your engine light could've been on for weeks."

"But it wasn't." you mutter softly. You're already scared. This is the last thing you need.

"You know your car in particular needs to be serviced every half year?" Eddie mutters. "Oil changes, tire rotations. Your break pads have also seen better days. Which is concerning."

"Ok.”

"And how many times do I have to say you gotta pay attention to this fucking radiator?!" Eddie hisses, slapping at the hood again with his open palm. You shudder at the loud *THUNK* noise that echoes across the woods. "We wouldn't be out here in 3AM if you had just taken proactive measures.”

"Stop YELLING at me!" you whine, a piece of your inner child spewing outwards to combat Eddie's belligerent word vomit.

"I'm not yelling." Eddie firmly insists.

He turns his back to you and starts towards your car again.

"Yes, you are, you always do." you croak miserably, balling your fists up in frustration. “You always do Eddie, and I'm sick of it! You always want to be right, and you always kick me when I'm already down to-"

“Okay, okay, okay." Eddie hushes you. He runs a frantic hand through his hair. "Agh, fuck, okay — I’m sorry.”

He looks at you with guilty, glimmering eyes as you shift your body away from him. Guarded, tense. Closing up all access of you towards him because he lost those rights a long time ago. Muttering to himself now, Eddie scrapes at the pebbles beneath his feet, fiddling with the chain of his wallet before he dares to speak to you again.

"I just worry about you a lot."

You peer back over at him. "Deadass?"

He snorts. "Well yeah."

With your permission Eddie stalks closer to you.

"I don't want to wake up to a phone call talking about my wife's car bursting into flames — with her inside." He rolls his eyes. “All because she hasn't been maintaining her shit.”

"I have been," you fib just a bit, though most of it rings true. just forgot to iron out some little details."

Eddie relaxes his shoulders.

"I know," he surrenders. “I guess there's a part of me that secretly hopes you'll still need me somehow. Some way, or another."

"I'll always need your presence," you reassure him.

Your ex husband softens up. He always thought that during your separation you had found another Superman to save the day. Some other handsome devil to fix your car and maintain all the leaky faucets inside your once shared home. But as you've always insisted, nobody has your back like Eddie. Your very own George Reeves. At your disposal for you and you only.

He suddenly wraps his arms around you, and as you predicted you ease right into him, the comfort and familiarity of Eddie melting away any ounce of hostility you guys have ever harbored against each other. You both have your days, but the love you two have for each other has always remained the same. Just changed form, is all.

"I'm glad you're okay," is all he says.

'I'm glad you're here," you sniff. "Always playing hero, per usual..."

"Well for you, always."

He plants a gentle kiss on top of your forehead as you two sway around in unison. You hum to showcase your endearment.

And he'd do it again.

———

🏷️ tagging peeps who seemed interested in this lil universe 🫶🏼✨ thank you guys for reading :)

@highinmiamiii @potatobeans99 @mediocredreams @joshlmbrt @eddiesxangel @enam3l @mmunson86 @davidblowies-blog @thatissonnina @oskea93 @aurora-austen @lesservillain @madeofmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @munsonssweets @nailbatanddungeon @swiss-mrs @winchester-angel @belokhvostikova @curlyjoequinn @strangereads @marrowfrog00 @shadyunknowncreation @tuolcaniacoc @catherinnn @prestinalove @pleuviors @cinemabean @calumfmu @littlexdeaths

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x half-blood fem!reader

Summary: You comfort your darling boyfriend after an overwhelming sight at your muggle grandparents' house.

Genre: hurt and comfort, fluffy, blurb

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of hunting, taxidermy animal head, crying, Jamie is sensitive <3

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

You were beyond pissed at your parents.

You had told your mom, hoping she'd understand considering she was also raised in a sheltered pure-blood family, that James was sensitive and that he didn't have many experiences with muggles or muggle culture.

It hadn't crossed your mind to mention that your boyfriend was an animagus, or that he could turn into a stag, because why would you? You hadn't seen your muggle grandparents in a while, and you would have never imagined the new decor in their living room to be a taxidermy stag head in their living room!

Your grandparents don't even hunt!

"What's up his ass?" your oldest cousin asks smugly. He's standing next to you as he blows smoke from the corner of his mouth and he holds up his cigarette to his lips.

Your family had watched with pure confusion as your poor boyfriend sprinted outside, his complexion pale and his eyes watery. 

You cover your mouth, coughing from the smoke as you swat the air and your cheeks burn from embarrassment and anger. 

Without answering your cousin, you run to the entrance and shrug on your coat, grabbing James's as well. It's early October and it's chilly outside, you don't want James to catch a cold.

You slip on your boots and leap into the backyard, calling out for your boyfriend. "James!? Where are you?" you sound distraught as you look around for him frantically. 

You sprint into the woods behind the house, wondering if perhaps he'd disappeared there. When you see a shadow sitting in the grass not far into the trees, your heart breaks. 

"Oh, Jamie," you whisper and walk up to him. 

You kneel and drape his coat over his shoulders. Carefully, you sit next to him, holding him. "I'm so sorry. If I had known then I would have never—" you start, soothing a hand up and down his arms but your sentence quickly dies when James leans his head into your lap and you see tears roll down his reddened cheeks. 

"His eyes were so lifeless," he mutters, his voice broken. 

"I know, baby. I'm so sorry," you try and soothe, chewing on your lip. James moves his arms around you and sniffs a little. He sounds so weirdly vulnerable in your arms and it's so different from the James you usually see. 

Always so sure of himself. Always so brave. 

This reminds you of the few times you'd seen your boyfriend cry, but somehow this was still different. This time his tears made your chest hurt because you are partially to blame.

"I knew muggles have those in their houses sometimes. I mean, wizards and witches do too I think—I just didn't think I would see one," James continues and squeezes his eyes shut, "It just looked so dead." 

You smooth a hand in James's curls and press a kiss to his forehead. "I'm so sorry," you say, "I told them not to ruin this for me. I told them and they didn't listen. They don't even hunt, James. I don't know why they had that—"

James sniffs, sitting up, and wipes his hand under his nose. "It's okay, I'm being a baby. It isn't your fault and I don't think any less of your family."

You shake your head and cup his cheeks. "No, no, you're not a baby. You're a sweet, sensitive boy, and that's one of the reasons I love you so so much."

James chuckles and pushes some hair behind your ear, "So, you don't only love me for all my manly rugged charm?" he jokes, leaning his forehead on yours. 

You laugh. "Not only, no," you tease and look into his eyes. 

"Can I kiss you?" you ask. 

James's smile finally widens and he nods, letting you kiss his lips. It's sweet and calming and the only sounds around you are your lips on his and the birds in the trees. 

He pulls away and licks his lips, tasting the remnants of your cherry lip gloss. "Can we stay here for a moment longer before I do the inevitable walk of shame back to your house?" 

You caress his cheek. "We can stay here as long as you'd like. I don't wanna go back in there and face them all either."

And so, you and James stay outside until the sky turns pink and dim and you hear your parents concerned shouts of your name in the distance.

[lazy4honey]

Morella’s Wonder

Contains: clueless fem/afab reader x what-even-is-this m!shopkeeper, aphrodisiac affecting everyone, dub-con, tentacle p in v, cervix stimulation, initiative swap towards the end, NSFW & MDNI

At the end of a dark and narrow alley, hidden in the shadow of the citadel’s grand palace, stood the apothecary shop recommended to you by your fellow witch’s apprentice — Morella’s Wonder.

You gazed up at the sign board above the entrance with its crookedly arranged metal letters barely hanging on, and swallowed nervously. Then you took a deep breath, gathered the little bit of courage life had left you with, and entered.

Inside, the shop was just a little prettier than how shabby it looked from the outside. Star and moon shaped lights dangling from the ceiling dimly illuminated the cramped space decked in dark wood, immediately drawing attention to the deep scratches marring the towering medicine cabinets and creaky floorboards that made the shop look like a beast had rampaged through it. Then the scent hit you — heavy, bitter, somehow dry yet sticky at the same time, making you feel dirty.

Looking around, apart from a few old stains and herbs so lacking in moisture they crumbled with nothing but a simple touch, you only noticed the weathered pieces of paper with illegible worlds scrawled upon them labeling the countless drawers. Actually, compared to labels, they rather resembled those occult scriptures you’d caught glimpses of in your teacher’s grimoire.

Just as you were deep in thought, a chill ran up your spine. You spun around, taking a sharp breath — only to choke on the shop’s... unique scent. Suppressing your gag reflex, you regretted not just playing dead and holding still.

If the shopkeeper wanted to stare at you, then let them stare! It was their shop, anyway!

You pursed your lips and stepped before the counter. It separated you from a doorway leading to the back of the shop, resembling an open maw waiting for unknowing prey to wander in before it suddenly snapped shut.

The moment you reached the counter, a figure emerged from the dark doorway. It was a man with long hair as black as pitch, much taller than you, his body tightly covered by dusty grey robes with wide sleeves revealing unusually beautiful hands, and his face hidden behind the plain paper veil commonly worn by healers. His entire being exuded a silent gloom as he moved without a sound and, as per tradition of the healers’ guild, didn’t talk but signed for you to speak.

You felt your cheeks burn and turned your head, not daring to look at him. “I want to experience lust.”

After hearing so much about sex from your fellow apprentice, you wanted to try it yourself, but... All that fun and pleasure she talked about, you never felt it. When you asked her about it, she said that your partner probably just wasn’t doing it for you, and recommend you either go looking for a new partner, got yourself a potion to spice things up, or both (and if that didn’t help, it’s fine, just let it be). So here you were.

The shopkeeper paused for a moment, then knocked on the counter to get your attention, signed for you to follow him, and led you through the maw-like doorway to the back of the shop. There, various strangely glowing liquids, plants, mushrooms and animal parts filling perhaps thousands of bottles tightly crammed into rickety shelves lit up the windowless room with their light.

You were then given an artfully twisted glass bottle labeled... something, containing a bright pink potion. Without any hesitation whatsoever, you handed the shopkeeper five gold coins, uncorked the bottle, and directly chugged the potion. It tasted of strawberries, going smoothly down your throat and spreading a wonderful warmth throughout your body.

The shopkeeper, Morella, froze as he watched your actions. He’d never seen someone drink a potion. Wasn’t it general knowledge that they had to be applied to the corresponding area?? And yet here you were, drinking an aphrodisiac like a shot of alcohol, right in his shop…!

Meanwhile, you soon started to suffer the consequences of your not at all thought through actions.

The initially gentle warmth quickly turned into a stream of unbearable heat that kept pooling in your abdomen. It made your crotch tingle and your pussy felt terribly empty like never before, desperately needing to be filled by something. Your perception of the world shrank to only your body, almost uncomfortably aware of every twitch and each throb.

Being lifted, carried, and put down on something with a lot of give were only vague impressions at the edge of your current reality. In contrast, you clearly felt how slick leaked from your pussy and how simply the little bit of pressure of sitting down made lust course through your veins.

You twisted your legs, clenched your thighs, and rocked your hips, not knowing what to do to relieve this unprecedented longing. The desire to be filled continuously rampaged through your mind as you were gradually soaked in your own fluids, and all your thoughts melted like ice in the sun.

At this moment, a pair of hands reached for you. Their cool touch grazing your skin as they peeled you out of your clothes made you tremble and gasp, feeling like your spine was being caressed.

“Help... Please help me..."

Morella’s hands stalled.

“I beg of you... I need— aah, I need..."

You meant to hear a soft sigh, followed by a tap on your nose. It was both helpless and indulgent, stirring your already chaotic thoughts into a mess.

Then he continued. His cool fingertips brushed over your bare shoulders, chest, and waist, down your hips and thighs as he undressed you. It was tantalizing, every touch setting off sparks that shot along your nerves, leaving you whimpering and writhing at his hands as falling clothes grazed your skin.

Morella admired you unabashedly from behind his paper veil. Your entire body suffused with a fierce blush, your unfocused gaze blurred by unshed tears, your heaving chest with its perked up nipples, your glistening wet folds exposed to his sight as he gently pressed you down on the soft couch, your soft, pleading murmurs spilling from your lips at every touch, and that scent you exuded... His breathing became a little rushed. It seemed like the consequences of drinking an aphrodisiac were more severe than he thought.

He flicked his hand, a breeze twirling around his fingers and blowing through the shop to close the front door. Then he straightened up and started undressing himself, laying bare a hulking frame with three sets of wings resembling a colorful rose window shattered into six parts sprouting from his back, and flowing, dark purple markings winding across his body to cumulate in four additional arms and a large tentacle cock, a sweet and salty scent wafting from the peculiar appendage.

You blinked, a single tear finally falling and clearing up your sight to this unholy view. It made your heart pound and pussy twitch, urging you to jump at him and seek relief, yet your body was soft from the intense lust washing over you.

Morella bent over you, pale light filtering through his mesmerizing wings and dancing across you with their movement, spread your legs and aligned his tentacle cock with your dripping entrance. The thing writhed, bumps spiraling from the narrow tip to the thick hilt glistening with mucus, and it felt hot and slimy as it curled around your clit, and tugged.

You moaned and panted. Your pussy fluttered around nothing, your body seemed to still be getting hotter, and all you knew was that you desperately needed release from this sweet torture.

His tentacle cock dragged between your folds, letting you feel the full stimulation of his bumps, and sank into your dripping wet hole. Just the tip was already heavenly, and then there was the rest, stretching you further the deeper he penetrated. He watched you swallow him up in one slow, uninterrupted stroke and his chest heaved from the restrained he needed to prevent himself from railing you into a mess since the moment he entered. But it was really hard to hold back...

Morella’s wings trembled, causing the mottled light to dance, and he started to thrust.

Measured and powerful, every thrust made your breasts bounce and squeezed a moan out of you. The couch creaked beneath you, the tempo increasing with each repetition, as if he was just as desperate to fuck as you.

However, you had no time to think about anything. All you felt was his exhilarating tentacle cock pleasuring you.

His hips snapped against your ass like a tireless piston, and as he bent over you, his wings fluttered and the paper veil swayed so hard it revealed his mouth. Beyond pale lips lay lines of terrifyingly sharp teeth and a dark purple tongue with bumps, closely resembling his tentacle cock, his breath even carrying the same sweet and salty scent.

You swallowed subconsciously, and then you felt his gaze. Unseen yet burning hot wherever it touched, it slithered over your exposed skin like a tongue. Your body subconsciously tensed, eliciting a raspy moan, the first sound you’d ever heard from him.

His pace grew hurried as he chased his pleasure. The bumps on his tentacle cock dragged deliciously against your soft walls and you could barely breathe amidst the ecstasy they brought. You felt your pussy pulse, releasing waves of bliss that surged through your veins and swept across your bones. Just a bit more—

Morella came. Buried in your pussy up to his balls, a particularly big bump at the base pressed against your clit and his tentacle cock squirmed within you as cum shot out of it, triggering your orgasm.

The mesmerizing wings resembling a rose window buzzed above you, making you feel like you were being fucked like a beast in heat right in front of a church’s altar under the eyes of god.

Morella’s weight pressed down on you. Chest against chest, you felt his heavy heartbeat. His breath hit against the paper veil and pushed it aside, baring his mouth to you.

You captured his lips.

Sharp teeth skimmed over your extended tongue as you deepened the kiss. And then you felt his tongue. Hot, wet, bumpy, sweet and salty, tightly wrapping around the tender meat and following it into your mouth. You felt him at the back of your throat and in the depths of your pussy, your body overwhelmed with his presence.

The breeze created by his trembling wings brushed over your skin. He started moving again, quickly transitioning from slow to quick thrusts. Slick and cum squelched quietly, spilling out of your hole with every move and overflowing when he came again.

Morella released your tongue, lifted you up, and sat down with you on his lap. A lot of cum gushed out with his actions and splashed onto the floor, leaving a puddle by his feet. Then he adjusted your limp body on top of him, letting you lean against his broad shoulder, and his tentacle cock bottomed out. The bumpy tip just barely reached your cervix, the new, strange sensation quickly arousing you again.

He firmly held your waist and hips, almost using you like a cock sleeve. Every time he slammed you down, his cock prodded at your untouched depths and sent you reeling. You cried out every time, drool dripping from your uncontrollably open mouth and trickling down his and your chest, cold and stimulating on your hot skin.

His flexible tentacle cock curled and arched and the bumps were in every right position, pressing in the perfect places to throw you over the edge again and again. Your clit, lips, entrance, channel and even the cervix were caressed by this tongue-like appendage and doused in cum that was getting more and more transparent with every ejaculation. Liquid squelched, skin slapped, hearts pounded, and chests heaved with pants and moans, but it still wasn’t enough.

Morella pulled you up, made you kneel on the couch, and pounded into you from behind. The new angle made you gasp and soon, you couldn’t prop yourself up anymore, leaving only your reddened ass up high. He tightly held your hips, adding more redness to your asscheeks with is frenzied thrusts.

After coming this time, he wanted to take a rest, but you had finally recovered some mobility. You grabbed his long black hair and pulled him down for a kiss. He was forced to swallow your aphrodisiac-laden saliva, and his lust was almost immediately reignited.

While kissing him, you rolled over. With a loud sound he fell onto the floor, right into the puddle that had grown larger with every round. His cock once more pressed deep into your pussy, squirming almost pitifully but only triggering more desire. You rolled your hips and rode him so hard your breasts bounced, giving him a nearly hypnotic view of your nipples.

A beautiful pain shot through your chest and made you groan. Looking down, you found Morella had bitten your nipple, sharp teeth grinding dangerously against the soft thing before being replaced by his tongue.

You stroked his head, his shoulders and chest, pinched his nipples and then viciously twisted them. He released you with a loud groan and came again, his cock throbbing as if you’d squeezed him dry. His soft moans were husky and so pleasant to hear you doubled your efforts riding him. The moment you came, your pussy fluttering around his length, he was forced to come once more, his wings rustling as they shook.

Your eyes and lungs, mouth and pussy, heart and mind, were filled with him, leaving no space for anything else. By the time you were done, you had no idea how long you’d been at it. All you knew was that you were more tired than ever before, and your entire body hurt.

Still, you stubbornly clung to Morella as you fell unconscious, absolutely refusing to let go. And just before your awareness completely slipped away, you meant to hear a soft sight, a sweet and salty breath lingering on your lips.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Die Happy - Sanji x Reader

SUMMARY: Sanji is disillusioned about your lack of interest in him. Someone like you could pick and choose among princes, kings and emperors. What's a measly cook to you? Nevertheless, his lovesick heart continuously rejoices when you choose him to waste time with.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.3k

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi

Part 2 -> "Maelstrom"

Sanji has never believed in ghouls, witches, faeries and the like. However, when he met you his belief began to shatter:

Like a dark sorceress covering the whole world with a curse, you lured all the influential, important men like fire does moths. At first, Sanji fooled himself that all those generals, merchants and noblemen only wanted something pretty to hang onto their shoulders but reality destroyed his comforting illusion when the said men offered riches most people couldn’t even fathom. If you asked them for an armada to sail to the Grand Line, they’d only ask what type of wood you’d prefer. Despite something akin to world domination lying at your fingertips, you always laughed those offers off, telling your powerful suitors that you would think about their words and get back to them.

Sanji once asked whether you’re truly considering marrying one of the generals or kings. Some more naive part of him hoped you’d say no. Alas, the truth, once again, was his adversary:

“Obviously!” you giggled at his silly question. “But I won’t marry the first one that offers me wealth and whatnot. First, I’d like to see all of my options and the world…” your voice trailed away as you vaguely pointed around the two of you. “Well, it’s a big place. Many more kingdoms to visit.”

But to his own demise, the cook was a fool unlike any other. He had no chance at winning your heart, no matter how much he’d try. Still, his untamable desire egged him on, whispering sweet songs of your grace. Even if he could taste your lips only in his imagination, he could do his best for you to have a reason to keep him around like a dog that begs for scraps at his master’s table.

Sanji knows he’s only hurting himself, only furthering his desperation when he makes you smile or earns a speck of your affection. Every dawn, he promises to free himself from your sorcery but when dusk comes and his left with the Moon, his only confidant, he realizes that he could never possess enough power to cut himself free from you. You’ve pierced his heart right through and if he pulls your knife out of his chest, he’s bound to bleed out and die. It’s better if he lets you have complete control over his mind and soul - it’s the only way he will make it out alive.

He’s left cold and lonely on that night. Soft, silver moonlight washes over him through the small porthole in the wall of his room. The sea is almost black at this hour of the night but it becomes a mystical sapphire when the Moon’s glow washes over the lazy waves making them glisten like pure diamonds.

Diamonds… maybe if he had diamonds, you’d see him as a man and not just a shipmate.

Quiet knocking on his door wakes Sanji up from his thoughts. Before he has a chance to get up and open the door or tell the guest to come in, the mysterious visitor enters out of their own volition.

Your tired face makes Sanji think about painting in museums - the ones all connoisseurs consider “classics” and “timeless”. The silk shirt you’re wearing looks not only awfully expensive but, which is much worse, to be a men’s size. Its hem ends right underneath your buttcheeks, threatening to expose your body should you lift your hands. In the darkness of his cabin, you appear as nothing beyond a phantom, a hallucination born out of desperation. And just like a ghost, you’ve come to haunt and torment him in the sweetest of ways; in a way only you can.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks in a raspy voice. Sanji is doing a great job at appearing unaffected by your rather scantily clad form.

Carefully, you close the door behind you and walk towards him. Your skin glows when you step into the rays of soft moonlight pouring in through the porthole. Dishevelled hair, half-closed eyes and a slightly puffy face - Sanji has imagined you this way countless times but never actually seen. He can feel his body burning up, telling him to seize the opportunity, to wash you in the most charming and suave words he can think of.

“Nami kicks while sleeping,” you say quietly. “I swear to god my whole side is bruised at this point. Can I sleep with you?”

Sanji has to remind himself to breathe and to do so calmly. He’s cool, completely in control of himself. His mouth feels unbearably dry.

“‘Course you can,” he answers casually. With a swift move of his arm, he lifts the duvet. “Come on in.”

The pure bliss that suddenly appears on your face forces Sanji to take in a sharp, ragged breath. It’s an expression he also imagined one too many times when his desperation poisons his mind - not that he’s willing to admit it even to himself. He knows it’s wrong to even entertain a scenario in which you would grace him with such an enraptured face. Still, his will is not as strong as he often makes it out to be.

“Sanji, you are my salvation,” you tell him while getting under the covers with him.

“I know, love.”

It’s both strange and natural, the way your body fits his. As though the two of you have done it so much the memory of your muscles twists and turns your limbs to rest in the most comfortable and intimate way. The odd familiarity makes Sanji think that maybe in another lifetime this is how he always sleeps. He wishes he could find himself in that reality even for a second. Alas, it’s too far out of his reach.

“Damn, you’re really comfortable,” you mumble against his chest. Your hot breath makes him shiver. “And warm. I don’t think I’ll be going back to my bed.” A small grin of cosiness appears on your face - one that Sanji will never forget.

His broad chest and strong arm normally go unnoticed by you but now they’re like a fortress. And just like high stone walls are an unspoken promise of security and happiness, his firm hold on your body is a silent oath of a good night's sleep.

“Stay as long as you want,” he whispers back to you. 

Maybe if you weren’t so exhausted, you’d notice that his words aren’t a statement but a plea. They’re the last thing you remember before drifting off to a restful slumber.

Your breathing slows down and gains a steady, shallow rhythm. Keeping you close to his chest, Sanji allows his hands to gently brush against your arm and back. His movements are feathery, almost fearful. He wouldn’t want you to wake up and change your mind about spending the night beside him - he can indulge in his heart’s desire but he must do so carefully.

“If you only gave me a chance,” he whispers into the night.

Knowing you’re asleep and bound to remain ignorant of his affections, Sanji kisses the top of your head. His lips linger against your hair while he takes in the scent that haunts him day and night. Unknowingly, his grip around your body tightens at that moment as though he has suddenly grown most terrified of having you disappear. Too many nights he’s dreamed of this exact scenario only to wake up to a cold, empty bed.

When the dawn arrives and you leave his arms, this little moment of affection won't mean anything to you. It means nothing now. Sanji knows this very well. He doesn't try to lie to himself that maybe you'll wake up a changed person and finally see him as more than a friendly comrade. Although tonight means nothing to you, it holds an unspeakable weight to Sanji, who will forever gloat about the fact that when you needed help, it was him you turned to. It was his arms that guarded your sleep for a few hours.

Fighting off sleep until he collapses, Sanji revels in the feeling of you against his body and pretends, even if for one night, that you’re his the same way he will always be yours. Watching you sleep cuddled into him, he swears he could die happy now.