#Being sure to drag any unfortunate souls down into the depths with me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sserpente · 2 years

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Heart of Fire

Synopsis: Imagine being a powerful demoness from Muspelheim. One day, a mischievous and stunning god ends up in your realm and before the other demons can reduce him to ashes, you decide to take him under your wing. As a handsome raven-haired Frost Giant with a silver tongue, Loki will make the perfect pet... no?

A/N: This whole Oneshot is inspired by an amazing drawing by @marietta-kerdzevadze. Y’all have to check it out here! Enjoy reading, everyone!

Words: 9041 Warnings: smut, demoness!Reader, dub-con, (reluctant) sub!Loki

This story contains themes that may be offensive and/or triggering for some readers. Please be aware that this is only a piece of fiction and make sure to heed the warnings before proceeding. For more information on the topic of dark themes, please refer to my FAQ.

The screams were always louder at this time of the day. It was when all those poor and unfortunate souls who had gone astray and found themselves in the depths of Muspelheim. And not all demons were good. Some of them sure did enjoy the smell of burning flesh.

Truth be told, most demons were not evil either. On a scale from one to ten… you would consider yourself to be a solid six. At the end of the day, what greater purpose did it serve to burn trespassers alive? You only killed to make ends meet. Out of love. Out of revenge.

But either way, that did not stop you from stopping by the fire pit every now and then. It might have been a literal hellhole but quite an adventure nonetheless. You had seen it all. Kree, vampires, gods, species whose name you couldn’t even pronounce.

“Anything interesting today?” You called out. The demon in charge of the fire pit looked nothing like you. He had two long horns sticking out of his forehead, a split tongue and reddish skin that was burning hot to the touch, and his nails, long enough to make it rather difficult for him to clasp the long leash in his fists, were sharp and black.

“The usual scum,” he replied.

You, on the other hand, were the embodiment of a goddess—a demon goddess destined to control the fires of Muspelheim. You were only one of many, blessed with both immortality and beauty. Truly the only physical trait you shared with the demon before you were your bright yellow eyes that turned red whenever you used your fire powers in any way. That… and the sharp canines that resembled the fangs of a vampire.

With your head tilted, you skimmed your eyes over what had gotten caught in the fire pit. And then you saw him. The raven-haired god with the sharp jawline and cheekbones to die for. Blue eyes bore into yours, his thin lips parting. He was sweating, on his knees, breathing heavily. He was stunning.

“Who is that?” Intrigued, you pointed at him. His eyes narrowed.

“That? Keeps rambling about being a god.”

You chuckled. “I figured this much.”

“I am a god!” He bellowed. Damn. His voice was sexy. Dark, smooth, like it was able to convince you to do almost anything. “I am Loki, the rightful king of Jötunheim and I demand—“

“Loki? You are an Asgardian god? How did you end up here?”

The demon gave you an annoyed huff. “I have no time for chit-chat. Time to say goodbye, god of whatever you are.”

Loki’s eyes widened. And for a good reason too. It would be a shame to turn that pretty face to ashes.

“Wait! I want to keep this one. Do with the others as you will.”

“You’ll stop bothering me then?” The demon growled. You winked at him when he grabbed Loki’s arm and dragged him towards you. The god stood, his expression both menacing and threatening. A smirk tugged at the corners of your red lips. Three, two, one…

A dagger materialised in his hand the very moment your eyes turned bright red. You leaned back almost casually when he drew back but just before the tip of the blade could penetrate your skin you breathed out a surge of fire, melting his weapon down.

Loki let go of it just before it could singe his skin. The shocked expression on his face was priceless.

“Cute. You’re gonna be a fun pet.”

“I am no one’s pet,” he growled, making you grin.

“That’s where you’re wrong. You are my pet now.” You paused, eying him up and down. He truly was nice to look at even despite all the sweat making that raven hair stick to his skin. “So… You’re a Frost Giant then? King of Jötunheim? You’re not going to like the heat around here. It’ll be difficult to keep you cool but we’ll figure something out. Come with me. Let me show you your new home.”

Still hostile and even more reluctant, Loki, much to your surprise, indeed followed you. He was smart. He probably knew that his usual tricks wouldn’t get him very far as of right now. He was observant, biding his time. You would have to be careful with this one—but you already knew exactly how to keep him in check.

Whatever he had expected to see in your so-called home, he appeared utterly confused by his surroundings. Your domain wasn’t exactly a palace but it was yours. There was no paint on the cave-like walls, no paintings or pictures that would have made the place more homely.

You had a queen-sized bed with pitch-black velvet bedsheets, a dressing table with a mirror and a dark purple velvet chair, and a wardrobe twice your size to store your personal items and clothes. Apart from that and the lit candles in the room hanging from a chandelier on the ceiling, it must have felt incredibly impersonal to him. Well, Muspelheim was not Asgard, after all. Odin had made sure of that.

Loki strutted further into the room, clearly suspicious of what he would be met with next while you rummaged through a drawer in your wardrobe. Soon, your fingers closed around the leather collar that you had once used for the shape-shifting creature you had kept as a pet in your childhood. You smiled to yourself. The leather was enchanted, it would block magic of any kind, including Loki’s seidr.

Quickly, you moved around him, slinging the collar around his neck. He spun around fast just when you clasped the collar shut and the metal locked in place, molten together in a way he would not be able to take it off himself. Something told you this was not the first time he had gotten collared, in what way, however, you were more than anticipated to find out. He did look like the type of god who got himself into trouble, after all.

“There we go. Nice and tight.” You winked at him, clearly fuelling his anger. Fuming, he clawed at the leather, attempting to pry it off to no avail. It was a fraction of a second later he realised.

You chuckled. “You didn’t honestly think I’d let you keep your magic, now did you? See, I know I am way more powerful in this realm than you are… but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I’m not going to fall asleep next to you knowing that you have the strength to kill me.”

“A pathetic collar is not going to stop me from doing just that.” He spat.

“We’ll see. Now get out of those clothes. They’re dirty. And you are in desperate need of a shower.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Take your clothes off,” you repeated slowly. “Let me take a proper look at you. I’m gonna see you naked sooner or later anyway and I will get you out of these clothes. Don’t make things difficult. I’m gonna treat you nicely if you behave.”

Loki growled. It was an almost animalistic sound that sent pleasant shivers up and down your spine—and a jolt of electricity to the spot right between your legs. You decided to wait another moment for him to comply but either way, you had no desire to rip those clothes off of him. You wanted him to obey you on his own accord—because he knew what’s good for him.

“No?” You asked when he just kept staring daggers at you instead. “Very well. You can sleep on the floor then. I’m not letting you into my bed like that. I might be a demoness but I do appreciate hygiene. The washing chambers are over there. There is no cold-water but judging by the way you smell, I wouldn’t recommend that anyway.”

“Lovely. Very charming.”

“You’ll get used to it.” You smirked at him. Knowing that Loki would be unable to do any harm with that collar on, you walked past him and sat down in front of your dressing table to remove your jewellery and accessories to get more comfortable for the night. Your fisher net gloves came off first, followed by your ruby drop earrings and your snake-shaped necklace. Intimidation was key—besides, you liked looking badass.

Curious as to what your new pet would do in the meantime, you watched him pacing back and forth through the mirror. The glances he kept giving you were delicious. You’d only love to find out what was going on in that pretty head of his. Perhaps in time, he’d even grow to love you. All pets did, eventually. Asgardian gods were no different than bloodthirsty wolves if you gave them love, food and kept them warm—or cold, in his case. There was one, crucial distinction though. Loki was a man. And there was nothing that would stop you from fucking him on every possible surface of your home sooner or later.

You chuckled when eventually, he gave in and strutted into the washing chambers, albeit not undressing right before you. You wondered how soon he would realise that he had no clean clothes to put on once he had taken that shower—and that without his magic, you were the only one who could help him out.

“Good morning,” you mused. He did look adorable asleep, like a vulnerable young man who had been through way too much. You wondered just what exactly that was.

Loki had been fighting sleep for hours. Evidently, he did not feel safe enough to close his eyes around you but eventually—and perhaps after he had realised that you had let him off the hook for the day—his worn-out body won the battle and he succumbed to sleep… even if he had done so on your dressing chair. Well, that would change soon enough.

What did Frost Giants slash Asgardians eat? Muspelheim hardly offered fresh fruit or vegetables. As a demoness, your diet mainly consisted of different kinds of meat which you sometimes ate raw too and the bitter weed that grew in the heat of the fire realm that you used for salads and garnish.

You didn’t know what Loki liked, so you went to get a bit of everything Muspelheim had to offer, returning to him with a selection of bread, bilgesnipe milk and various meat spreads. Sweets on the other hand were hard to get a hold of. Perhaps you’d find some at the market.

Loki glared at you as soon as his conscious mind had reminded him of where he was, and, much more importantly, what he was now.

“I doubt it was comfortable to sleep in a towel all night. I got you some trousers.” You said, handing him the pair. It was made of leather and would compliment his strong legs… and that gorgeous behind.

Loki furrowed his brows, taking them from you hesitantly. “Just trousers?”

“You won’t need any other clothes, pet.” You winked at him. “Besides, you’ll get hot around here eventually. Especially being a Frost Giant. You should thank me for not having to sweat through all those layers of clothing you arrived with here.”

“Where are they?” He snapped. “That was fine Asgardian leather!”

“Calm down. I’ve sent them away to be cleaned outside the city. You’ll get them back… at some point. If you behave,” you added quietly. Loki glared at you once more, the hostility radiating off of him like the surging fire in the pit.

He moved to put them on, presumably wanting to lock himself in your washing chambers to do so but this time, you were faster. Your patience was growing thin and your arousal kept growing. You wanted this man, wanted to taste every fibre of his being. You’d make him want you sooner or later too. For now, you would just have to show him what life with you would hold in store for him.

Grinning wickedly, you pulled away the towel before he had a chance to react. When he tried to reach for it, you burned it before his eyes, making him breathe out angrily. With his free hand, Loki attempted to cover up his private parts and failed rather comically.

Even if its flaccid form, his member was quite impressive. A little longer than average and just the perfect girth to wrap your hands around… or your mouth… or your warm and wet walls.

You took his hand in yours when he opened his mouth to protest, moving it away to take a proper look. He truly was a god. Grabbing his collar when he attempted to lunge at you, you heated the leather just enough to give him a warning. Not hot enough to hurt him but hot enough for him to hesitate.

“Loki…” You began sternly, “I have been really patient with you. But it’s about time you start obeying me. You should be grateful, you know. I took you in, saved you from being burned alive which, I can imagine, is one of the worst fates a Frost Giant can suffer, and I have been nothing but nice to you so far. Continue with this attitude and I promise you’ll get to know a different side of me.”

“It is unwise to threaten a god, demoness.”

“It is unwise to threaten a demoness, Loki”, you countered calmly. “And I expect you to call me ‘mistress’ when we are in public. In private… I’ll let you call me by my name… if you behave.”

“You never even told me your name.” He bellowed.

Smiling weakly, you gave it to him. There was a probability it was dangerous to give him your true name—names held power, after all. But he was yours and he was not going anywhere.

“Now be a good pet,” you continued. “I just wanna see what my new toy has to offer. Please?”

Smirking, you ran your fingertips over his soft member, the velvety skin making you bite your lower lip. He responded to your touch almost instantly. Loki groaned when you repeated the motion, watching him twitch until eventually, he started growing hard.

“There we go…” You murmured. You licked your lips now, eager to see him come undone for you. In the future, you’d make him earn his pleasure, you wanted him to know his place after all but for now… for now, you were almost desperate to see what he was like when he drowned in the sensations you made him experience.

“You will regret this.” He growled, his attempts to stifle his moans failing with every single stroke of yours that now followed. Working him up, your smirk grew wider when you noticed that Loki began to buck his hips unwillingly, seeking the blissful treatment you were bestowing upon him.

“Take… your… hands… off me…” He breathed out. You chuckled.

And then, he threw his head back, giving up all that control that he so desperately held on to. Perhaps it was in the heat of the moment, his body aching for your touches, realising that you were making him feel good even if his mind was fighting it.

His lips were parted, you could see his Adam’s apple bopping when he swallowed thickly. Watching him greedily, you sped up your movements. You reached for his balls with your other hand, massaging them gently. Loki’s moans grew louder until finally, tensing up, he came.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as his orgasm rippled through him and his hard throbbing members twitched in your grip. His seed came spurting out of the tip, staining both his bare stomach and your hand. You stopped your movements for a second, careful not to overstimulate him and far too mesmerised to do anything but observe this beautiful man during one of his most intimate moments.

And then, after a few more strokes to make sure you got every last drop out of him, you drew your hand away. You resisted the urge to lick your fingers clean and taste him. Another time. Instead, you wiped them with the small hand towel on your dressing table and then handed it to him so he could do the same.

“Did that feel good?” You mused. Oh, if looks could kill. Loki positively looked like he was about to murder you… or pounce on you. One of the two. Perhaps even both at the same time. You hummed contently. He would get the opportunity to do the latter soon enough.

“You can get dressed now… if you like.” You winked. “I brought you breakfast. I’m not sure what you normally like to eat so I brought a bit of everything.” Genuine surprise flew across his face when he noticed the jute bag full of food but only a fraction of a second later, his hostile demeanour returned.

“Well I’m not hungry”, he snapped.

Your expression faltered. There was something about the hatred in his voice that made your heart clench.

You cleared your throat, scaring the odd feeling in your chest away and motioned for him to follow you. “You might change your mind at the market?”

Right before he could step through the door, however, you stopped him and reached for the silver chain you had brought with you this morning. A silver chain that came with a hook on one end. A leash.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I can’t have you running away, now can I?”

“Know this. Once I have found a way to free myself, I will make you wish you had never been born.”

You knew better than to wait for Loki to move back and make things difficult for himself. With but a quick motion, you attached the leash to his collar and then eyed him up and down. He looked outrageously hot. Barefoot, with those tight leather trousers and shirtless, his raven hair falling over his shoulders and complimenting his pale skin, the leather colour around his neck, attached to the silver chain in your hands… and those reddened cheeks that were still flushed from his orgasm.

“Let’s go.”

You could tell he was about to protest once more, so you took the decision from him—this time. He would have to keep up with you anyway.

The building you dragged him through resembled an underground castle more than a place for demons and other humanoid creatures to live in. It wasn’t renovated or painted—instead, there were carved walls and a dirty ground, torches lighting the way and casting eerie shadows.

So when you stepped out into the light, Loki squinted. You smirked. Muspelheim’s sunlight was a little different from Asgard’s for sure. It was reddish more than anything—drowning everything in an orange hue. It was what you would consider a beautiful warm day. And it was hot. Hotter than what your new pet was probably used to.

The further you took him, the more Loki began to pant quietly. Another five minutes passed until he was covered in his own sweat. Stopping dead in your tracks, you eyed him up and down, concern washing over you. Well, you hadn’t expected him to succumb to the heat this fast.

“Are you okay?”

“You are walking me on a leash like a dog, half-naked,” he spat with narrowed eyes, “What do you think?”

“I meant the heat, Loki,” you replied warningly, “I don’t want you to faint on me.”

“As if you care.”

“Believe it or not, I do.” And that was the truth. You liked the hostile God of Mischief and all of his snarky comments—even if you wished he would trust you enough to know you wanted to keep him safe here.

“Come on. The market is that way. The merchants have awnings, you can recover from the sun underneath.”

You pulled at the leash when he refused to move, dragging him forward. You had to admit, it was both empowering and arousing to watch him in this compromising position.

The first couple of merchants sold things you didn’t really need. There were tools and other trinkets for home building, things that served no purpose if you didn’t have the intention to melt them all down to make your own stuff out of them.

You were much more interested in the food and the foreign artefacts. There was one seller in particular who always found the rarest things around Muspelheim—and he passed them on to others, in exchange for the right price.

Excited, you stopped in front of his stall, curious as to what he had on offer today. He greeted you briefly, avoiding exchanging more than a few necessary words with you. You sighed. They were all the same.

“Who is that then?” He suddenly asked, pointing at the man you had on the leash.

“That?” You grinned. “My new pet. His name is Loki.”

The merchant raised his eyebrows. “Nice to meet you, Loki. Got lucky, huh?”

“Lucky?” He repeated incredulously, yanking at the leash, almost costing you your balance.

“You would be dead by now if she hadn’t picked you up from the pit.” Loki frowned. But when he sought out your glance, you avoided him and instead pretended to be interested in the little snow globe on the table.

The God of Mischief turned away. A few moments of silence followed.

“Where did you get that?” You suddenly heard him say. “That book is from Asgard’s Royal Library.” He pointed at the book, a reproachful tone playing in his voice. You raised your eyebrows, curious to know what had caught his attention. It was an old book with a few ripped pages and a battered spine.

“You’d be surprised about how many things end up in this realm.”

Loki picked it up, studying the back of it briefly. Whatever it was, his eyes lit up like those of a kid setting eyes on a Yule tree for the first time.

You smiled. “Do you want it?”

Loki snapped his head in your direction, quite possibly looking for the catch. When he didn’t respond and merely stared at you, you sighed, retrieving the satchel on your left thigh.

“How much?”

“Ten gold pieces.”

“Ten? Are you having a laugh? Five!”

“Seven!” The merchant retorted. You rolled your eyes.

“Six. And you’ll also give me that lovely green bookmark over there.” You had noticed it before already—and you had a feeling Loki would like it. Besides, it would come in handy once he had that book in his possession.

“Fine,” he spat when you handed him the money. “Bloody outcasts…”

“I’d be careful if I were you. Have you not heard the rumours of me walking through walls? Would be a shame if I had to come visit you at night to slit your throat.”

The merchant turned pale. You glared at him, turning on your heel and tearing Loki with you, away from the stall.

Even though the days were short on Muspelheim at this time of the year, you knew you should head back home soon if you didn’t want Loki to suffer from a heatstroke even if he looked adorable with those flushed cheeks.

You had been showing him around the realm for hours, stopping for lunch and a break at the only cool water fountain there was. Loki had not missed a single opportunity to mock you and insult your intentions—but he had been grateful for the water.

Back in your living place, you took the leash off him, allowing him to roam the cave-like room freely. You could tell he was tired though. The heat had worn him out—it would take him a lot longer to get used to the temperatures in this hot realm. You would have to think of a solution. Perhaps you could even get him some ice. It was expensive, of course. In a world of fire like this, ice was a rarity and incredibly hard to source, sustain or even get hold of.

“You like to read and evidently, you like the taste of chocolate”, you started. “How is beyond my understanding, that sweet stuff is disgusting but you do. Tell me more about you, Loki. What was it like to grow up on Asgard?”

“It was dull and disappointing. Outsiders are not exactly welcome in this realm.” He responded. You raised your eyebrows. Was he referring to himself? He was a prince. Son of the mighty Odin. You didn’t like the bearded Allfather but at least he kept the nine realms in check.

“I am going to get washed,” he announced then, disappearing into the washing chambers. You considered joining him for a moment but, given the attitude he still met you with, perhaps you should take things slowly.

In any case, he had enjoyed how you had played with him today even if you were very well aware that he would never admit it. And his reactions… so very sweet. He looked adorable when he fought to remain in control only to give in eventually once he had realised that it was pointless to resist, pointless to struggle… that you had only wanted to make him feel good.

The time would come when you would ask for something in return. First, you had to make him grow used to you though—just like a real pet.

“You could at least make it comfortable,” he complained when he stepped out of the washing chambers again, all the sweat from the day washed off of his body. Today, he didn’t hesitate. Almost superciliously, he strutted towards the bed and made himself comfortable. Granted, you had been occupying the dressing table, still, you were quite surprised that he had given up the protest about his sleeping situation so soon.

“It’s a leather collar, it should be comfortable. Why? Is it irritating your skin?” Frowning, stood and joined him on the bed, leaning in closer to inspect his throat. Your fingers ghosted over the soft material.

“Now don’t act like you care.”

Your gaze softened. “Loki… you’re my pet. Of course I care.”

“I’m not your pet,” he growled.

“The longer you are in denial, the harder you are making this for yourself.”

Loki shot you a menacing look. For a second, it was utterly still.

“Why did he call you an outcast? The merchant?” He suddenly asked then.

You looked away from him, avoiding his curious glance. “None of your business, that’s why.” You paused. “Let me put some cream on.”

You took a deep breath before climbing out of the bed to retrieve the medicine. Much to your surprise, Loki stayed put. You sat back down on him, leaning forward and screwing off the metal lid.

The cream was cool, it would soothe his skin overnight. Loki was watching your every move like a hawk—but he didn’t object.

“Better?” You asked once you were finished.

When he nodded, you smiled triumphantly. You set the cream aside, blew out the candle on your bedside table to drown you both in complete darkness and cuddled up to him. You could practically feel him tense up but when he realised that you were just getting comfortable to sleep—and, evidently, would use him as a pillow—he actually began to relax.

You smiled. Perhaps there was hope he’d come to enjoy his new life with you after all.

Loki was still asleep when you woke up the next day. And even in his sleep, he didn’t quite seem to be able to shake off his constant unease and vigilance. You did not doubt for a second that if you were to attack him, he would strike back in an instant—and you were sure he was aware of that too.

Careful, as to not wake him, you crawled out of bed and disappeared into your washing chambers to run yourself a nice hot bath. It was lovely… knowing that there was someone outside of the room, someone you could say “Good Morning” to. Smiling to yourself, you climbed into the stone tub once it had filled up—it was almost boiling, the perfect temperature for you, and sank back into the soothing warmth enveloping you.

Loki was without a doubt one of the most fascinating beings you had ever encountered. And now he was yours… all yours. With a sigh, you slid your hand between your legs, closing your eyes and picturing his face when he had come undone for you on your dressing chair. You recalled how hard and soft at the very same time his velvety skin had felt when you had jerked him off, remembered his heavy breathing and those delicious sounds he had made.

Your middle finger circled your clit, working yourself up until you grew wet. It was then you heard movement outside the washing chambers, sheets ruffling and then, footsteps nearing you.

Your face did not move a muscle when Loki stepped inside, his blue eyes instantly taking in your naked from submerged in the water. You had had to force yourself to move your hand away from your aroused cunt.

“Sleep well?” You asked, the corners of your mouth twitching. Loki did not answer. Instead, he strutted further into the room as if he owned the place, swallowing thickly the longer he blatantly stared at your exposed body.

“Would you like to join me? I’ll make sure to cool the water down so it’s comfortable for you?” You offered.

Loki scoffed in response. “No.” Instead, he opened up the heavy metal tab and began to wash his face. You chuckled. He sure was resisting his own pleasure. Unfazed, you stood in the tub. The warm air around you dried your skin almost immediately.

“Would you mind handing me a towel, pet?” You asked when he stood straight, noticing your change of position. He took a deep and sharp breath in, his eyes taking in every single inch of you… there was lust sparkling in them.

And then, much to your surprise, he did what you had asked him to do.

“Thank you. “ You gave him a genuine smile. “I was gonna go on a quest today to find you some ice. There’s got to be some way to keep it from melting.”

“I could make sure of it if I had my magic back.”

“Nice try, Trickster. But that’s not happening any time soon.” Drying yourself off, you stepped out of the tub. Loki did not move an inch out of the way.

“So?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “Did you sleep well?”

Unceremoniously, you let the towel drop, eyes locked with his. Loki swallowed once more, apparently determined to win the stare-down contest.

“I preferred the bed over the chair,” he finally said, making you smile.

“Hmm…” You took a step closer, cupping him. He breathed out, lips parted in a way there was no doubt he was anticipating whatever you’d do next.

“I want you to sleep with me, Loki. Let me fuck you.” You purred. Loki tensed up, his cock twitching against your palm. You grinned. Oh, he liked the dirty talk? You would give him dirty talk.

“I know you enjoyed what I did to you. The way I made you feel. You know what I am capable of and I have seen the way you look at my naked body. There is a part of you that wants this… that wants me. Don’t you want to feel it? My cunt clenching around your cock while you’re buried deep inside of me, milking you? Let me fuck you, Loki… please…” You repeated. You almost, almost, sounded innocent.

Loki was breathing heavily at this point, making you chuckle. As much as he resisted, it was surprisingly easy to get him all worked up. The sexual tension was tangible. Physically, you were more than just compatible and both his and your nature were urging you both on to act on the growing arousal between you.

Finally, you closed the remaining distance between you two and wrapped your hands around his neck to pull him close. Your lips came crashing down on his, luring him into a seductive kiss. It was the moment he reciprocated, moaning into your mouth, that you knew you had won.

Loki stood there almost paralysed when you began to tease his lower lip with your tongue, demanding entrance. His hands came up to take a hold of your naked waist when you deepened the kiss with your eyes closed, bathing in how the God of Mischief made you feel.

“Bed…” You breathed out against his lips, burying your hands in his hair and, not once breaking the kiss, dragged him back to bed where you pushed him back so you could crawl on top of him, straddling him.

The leather collar around his neck made you wanna pounce on him all the while he was looking up at you with those blue eyes full of longing and desire. He was covered in sweat already—you knew it was due to the warmth in this realm and yet, you’d take a wild guess he was feeling hot for entirely different reasons right now.

Grinning down at him almost devilishly, you moved your palms all over his exposed chest, feeling his muscles dance underneath your touch. You undid his trousers once you reached the hem of the fabric, slowly pulling them down just enough to reveal his hardening length.

He twitched when your fingertips brushed against him, only this time he would feel a lot more than just the skin of your palms.

You hummed at him, stroking him gently a couple of times. You were soaked—both from your solo fun in the bathtub earlier as well as the pending promise of getting to make this man underneath you yours.

Once he was hard and your fingers were coated with his precum, you grabbed a hold of his wrist and held them down to the sides of his head. He could break free, of course—you were not going to underestimate his physical strength—as for right now, however, he didn’t quite seem to want to get away from you; and that filled you with even more lust.

You kissed him again, almost devouring him on the spot all the while your slick lips kept brushing against his hard length. You were careful, yet impatient at the same time when you sat down on him slowly, impaling yourself on his cock until you had him sheathed deep inside of you.

It was like your bodies were made for one another. Moaning, you broke the kiss and threw your head back, enjoying the feeling of being joined with him before you started riding him like there was no tomorrow. There was no room for tenderness, no room for taking things slow.

You wanted Loki so much it almost physically hurt. This was savage, ruthless fucking, taking pleasure from your pet and rewarding him by returning the favour. Meanwhile, Loki’s gaze was fixed on your bouncing breasts. His pleasured grunts turned you on even more as you watched his hands curling into fists and when his eyes met yours, something inside both of you snapped.

This was right. This was unlike any sexual experience you had had before this. Circling your hips, you kept fucking him hard, right until the first whispers left his gorgeous lips. He was begging.

“Yes… please… don’t stop… don’t… stop…”

You had absolutely no intention of doing so and you could tell he was getting close fast—but so were you. Being on top and in utter control, you knew exactly how to angle yourself to have his cock hit all the right pleasure spots. But, before you were going to give him his release, you wanted more.

“Touch me, Loki…” You let go of his hands, not thinking twice about him obeying you just this once. And he did. Loki appeared to be almost in a trance when he reached out for one of your breasts, kneading it diligently. You whimpered when his thumb began playing with your nipple, his free hand sneaking down to where your bodies were joined to seek out your clit.

Of course he knew exactly what brought a woman the most pleasure down there. Who knew how many women he had brought joy before you but that did not matter anymore—he was all yours now.

Urging him on, your moans grew louder the more he massaged your sensitive bundle of nerves, figuring out quickly what you enjoyed. The closer you tumbled towards your orgasm, the louder Loki was panting, close to finding his own release.

“Don’t you… dare… cum before me…” You breathed out. By now, he was thrusting up to meet your frantic fucking, eager for the pleasure sparking between you to reach its peak.

“Oh… yes, don’t stop… please… Loki… don’t stop! I’m gonna… oh… shit…” You fell. Into the abyss, into utter darkness and light both at the same time. Your climax held you in its steel grip, making you clench around Loki’s cock, milking him for all he was worth. You kept riding him nonetheless, almost desperate to reward him for his obedience. Moving his hand away from your clit, you intertwined your fingers with his, leaning over him and looking him deeply in the eye.

“Cum for me, Loki…” You whispered, hungry to see him come undone for you again. Loki obeyed for the second time today. He closed his eyes, pressing his head into the pillow and exposing his collared neck to you as he came, his cock twitching against your walls, filling you up with his seed.

With but a couple more thrusts, you allowed him to ride out his orgasm and then collapsed on top of him, using his chest as a pillow and listening to his rapid heartbeat.

The next couple of days were filled with surprisingly pleasant silence, sex, getting used to one another’s presence and more sex. Loki was now… less hostile towards you, even though that did not stop him from making snarky remarks and as usual, making things difficult for himself. But whenever the two of you made passionate love, he was putty in your hands, eager to please you and desperate to find relief.

You had managed to elicit a few more details about himself even though for the most part, your pet was still a mystery to you. You decided it would add to the thrill. You quite liked his mischief and his spirit. There was, however, part of you, that longed for him to trust you fully, to acknowledge you were going to care for him. At times, Loki still looked at you like you were going to stab him in the back one day.

What was a lot more concerning, however, was how quickly he heated up every day. Drenched in sweat, he’d return to your home exhausted and panting—he just refused to admit it, still looking for a way out.

You had spoken to some demons at the market and one of you had guaranteed to find you ice that could be jinxed with seidr by a powerful witch from Anaheim so it would not melt in the heat of Muspelheim.

Loki only glared at you when you attached the leash to his collar and led him outside after the demon had contacted you again. You made sure that your pet could stand in the shade, protected from the sun.

“Thirty-thousand,” the demon said. “Ten-thousand as a deposit now so I know you can pay me in full.”

You almost choked. “Thirty-thousand? Have you lost your mind?” Hesitating, you took a glance at Loki who was already a sweating mess again. No. There was no way you could let him suffer like this day in and out. You sighed.

“Fine. But if you are screwing me over, I will make you wish you had never been born, is that understood? I expect this spell to work and to get quality wares for this price.” You snapped. You could practically feel Loki frown at you.

“It’s not melted yet, has it?” The demon nodded and when he turned away to move the handcart towards you, you pulled out the highest number of gold coins you had ever spent out of your satchel. This was your savings, almost all of it. The remaining twenty-thousand you would have to find a different solution for.

“You are hardly rich. This is a ridiculous amount of gold to spend on something as simple as ice,” Loki said matter-of-factly. You sighed once more, paying the demon and gently tugging at Loki’s leash so he’d follow you.

“I know. But this is Muspelheim. I am glad they could locate a witch to cast a spell over it in the first place. And if that’s the price I’ll have to pay to keep you cool and comfortable, I will do so.”

Loki’s frown deepened.

“Help me with the cart, will you? It’s heavy.” Too stunned to speak, so it seemed, Loki nodded and started pulling it along with him, returning to your living quarters.

Once you were back, you shivered when you touched the ice with your bare hands. “Such a fine line between life and death,” you said, chuckling. Loki said nothing in response, instead simply sat down on the pile and let out a breath of relief.

“Will you be fine with this?”

“It will keep me alive.” Your heart clenched. He could have said “Thank you” at least.

“You’re welcome, pet. But I’m afraid the ice will have to stay out of bed. The cold doesn’t favour my body just like the heat doesn’t favour yours.”

“It would make for a fair exchange.” He mocked.

As if to make a point, you took off your shirt, embracing the warmth and revealing your naked chest to him. His eyes darkened.

“It’s getting late. Help yourself to some bread and meat.” You sighed. “I’m getting ready for bed.”

Loki’s gaze, however, was still fixed on you, making you smirk. “Unless you’re hungry for something else?”

Biting your lower lip, you watched him swallow and reached for the leash to pull him close to you. His skin was cold from sitting on the ice, yet it seemed for the moment he was more than just willing to part with it for a little while.

Still smirking, you pushed him down on the bed, ignoring his mumbled protests. Your skirt came in handy today, especially because there was no need for underwear in a warm realm with no winds. You climbed atop of him, hovering your cunt right above his face.

Your dominant glance was all you needed to communicate to him what you wanted. And with Loki glancing at your pussy hungrily and licking his lips, your felt yourself growing wet already.

“Are you ready for me?”

“Yes,” he hissed.

“Yes what?”

Loki growled. “Yes… mistress.” He added reluctantly.

Smiling triumphantly, you sat down on his face, letting his tongue dart out to taste you. His lips felt like Valhalla on you, even more so when he wrapped them around your clit and started suckling on it. He ate you out like you were his last meal, like you were the best thing he had ever tasted in his whole life. Perhaps you were. Perhaps he was quite fond of you after all. During sex, it sure did feel like it.

Rocking your hips to create more friction, you buried your fingers in his raven hair, urging him on. Loki fucked you with his tongue, pampered your sensitive nub, lapped up your juices thirstily. He had you on the brink of orgasm in no time.

Digging his fingers into your butt cheeks, he almost appeared in a frenzy—so much that when you wanted to lift yourself up to let him breathe properly for a moment, he held you down like a starved vampire.

Loki moaned when you came on his tongue, drinking you up eagerly. Pleasure washed over you like liquid fire, numbing your senses, your cunt pulsing against his mouth. Loki made sure to swallow every drop of arousal you offered him, helping you ride out the wave of lust until it had faded away entirely.

It was only then he allowed you to get off his face so you came to sit on his lap. You pulled him into a sitting position, right into your arms. Your gaze was so full of love for him that there was no way in the nine realms he did not realise how you felt towards him.

“Your turn,” you then said with a wink. Loki leaned back again and, for the first time since you had taken him in, smirked at you. It was an invitation, a challenge. And you were not going to miss out on it.

Returning his smirk, you moved down to remove his trousers when suddenly, there was a blood-curling scream right outside your living quarters. Alarmed, you jumped up.

“What was that?” Loki asked.

You shook your head. “I have no idea. Stay here.”

Not caring about your nakedness, you made your way over to the entrance and peeked outside. Chaos. Utter chaos. Fire, smoke—more than usual—and high-ranked demons running amok with machetes and swords in hand, sliding other demons’ throats. Your eyes widened.

You had never seen such high-ranked demons around this part of Muspelheim before. Not since…

Breathing in sharply, you stopped one of the demons you regularly bought goods from at the market.

“What are they doing here? What is happening?”

“They’re cleansing the realm from lower life forms. You’ll be among the first, outcast.” You tensed up, flinching when you felt Loki’s presence behind you.

“I told you to stay where you are,” you hissed. Stomping past him, you got dressed and then frantically looked around your place. Your most meaningful belongings would have to do. For now, you had to flee. Quickly, you started packing. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…

“You are not a demon…” You suddenly heard someone say through gritted teeth.

“I can assure you I am much more powerful than a mere demon,” Loki responded threateningly.

“Loki, no!”

“Oh, I am certain you will burn all the faster then. How powerful can you be if you’re kept on a leash like a dog?”

Dropping your bag, you sprinted towards him just when the demon conjured up a wave of flames. Loki covered his face, stumbling back and dropping to the ground.

“Loki!” Panicked, you rushed over to him. Much to your relief, once the fire dissolved into thin air, he appeared unharmed for the most part—that was until you saw his forearms were burnt badly. And it was not the only damage the demon had done.

Loki’s collar had come off. Your lips parted. Now he would leave you too. And if he was anything like what you expected him to be, he would take revenge and kill you before those high-ranked demons got a chance to do so. But at least he had his seidr back and would make it out of here alive.

“Outcast…” The demon spat when he spotted you. Weapon drawn, he approached you with fast steps, ready to slit your throat. You ducked away, escaping the blade by mere inches and bumping into Loki who was already on his feet again. But before you could fight back and attempt murder yourself, the God of Mischief wrapped his arms around your middle and turned you both around.

Next thing you knew, you were tossed through a portal shimmering in different shades of green. Ice cold air enveloped you, the both of you hitting the hard ground. It took you a moment to realise that you had landed in the snow.

Panicking, you stood back up, brushing the snow from your body. The sudden change of temperature came like a shock to your body. Shaking like leaves in the wind, you looked around. You were not on Muspelheim anymore. This… this was a realm of ice.

“W-where are we? Did you bring us here?”

Loki was entirely unfazed by the cold. He nodded. “This is Jötunheim.”

“Jötunheim? I will be dead before sunrise!”

“It is in fact daytime,” he mocked, watching you panic before him. “I’d expect a little more gratitude,” he said then. “I just saved your life.”

You clenched your fists. “Gratitude? I could have killed him, Loki, you were the one who was useless before he melted off your collar.”

“And who put the collar on me?” He snapped, his loud voice echoing through the cold air. Daggers materialised in his hands, not because he meant to attack you but to intimidate you. You scoffed. You knew it was stupid of you to use your powers now that you were in a realm of ice, for you would need them to stay warm for as long as possible—but this was to prove a point.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you breathed out a surge of fire. This time, however, Loki didn’t even flinch away. He smirked when you realised that his weapons were still intact.

“Heat resistant blade. I am not making the same mistake twice.” He had barely spoken the words in full before he backed you up against the bottom of a cliff, pressing you against the frozen rock.

“Oh, how the tables have turned, no?” Loki chuckled, grabbing a hold of your chin to force you to look up at him. You swallowed thickly.

“You’ll leave me out here to die now,” you concluded bitterly. Much to your surprise, however, Loki frowned at you.

“I will do no such thing. In the end, I suppose you did keep me alive in his hellhole. Letting you keep your life in return would only be just. And I have grown to enjoy the physical aspect of our little… arrangement.” Loki chuckled when you didn’t know how to respond. “You did not truly think you could make me your pet, now did you, demoness? In fact…” He grinned. “It appears you are my pet now.”

You shivered. Whether it was from the cold or Loki’s threat… or promise… you were unsure.

“The higher-ranked demons tried to kill you. Why?” He asked then, tilting his head. “They kept calling you an outcast.”

You sighed, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep warm. There was no point keeping it from him anymore now.

“Because I didn’t conform to the rules of the society those demons have created centuries back. I don’t want to be a pet to a higher-ranked demon, a brainless wife who spends her days pleasing her husband… or work myself to death for them. My reputation sank until no other demon wanted anything to do with me anymore. When the council gave me one last chance by offering me a place in a harem for a council member, I refused and I was cast out. According to the greater population of Muspelheim, I no longer belong to society.” You paused, glaring at him. “Are you happy now?”

“So you decided to enslave others yourself? By keeping me? You have no idea what I am capable of, pet. I warned you back then. I warned you not to get on my bad side and yet here we are now.”

“I didn’t seem to be on your bad side only an hour ago, with my cunt on your face.” You spat.

Loki’s expression darkened, his entire demeanour changing.

“Kneel.” He demanded.

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“Kneel before me.” His tone allowed for no contradiction and strangely… you found yourself compelled to do as you were told. You were at his mercy now. He was right. The tables had turned and he now held your life in his hands.

Angry at yourself because of the tears forming in your eyes, you sank to the cold ground, your knees burning as soon as the ice came in contact with your bare skin.

“I treated you well,” you pressed out. “When we slept together I believed you don’t despise me as much as you pretended you do.”

“I don’t.” Surprised, you looked up at him.

“I felt lonely. When I saw you… in the pit… it was almost like I found a missing puzzle piece. I was enamoured with you, p-… Loki. I will not apologise for making you mine.”

“You did make me yours,” he whispered in response. You frowned. W-what? “I told you I quite enjoyed the physical aspect of your idiotic demonstration of power over me.”

“Don’t make it out like I’m weak!” You hadn’t imagined it then. Loki did feel something for you, regardless of whether that was purely physical or… or more.

“You are weak here, pet. This is my birth realm. You are a helpless little demoness who should be begging me to take care of her.” Loki paused, struggling with himself. “In any case… I would like to uphold that part of our arrangement. Only now the roles are reversed. As it should be.”

A sob escaped your lips. The cold was beginning to take a toll on you, clawing at you. It felt like the icy air was attempting to scrape your skin right off of you, tearing you further to the cold ground. And then, suddenly… peace. No pain, no discomfort… only the unbearable cold.

“W-what…”

“I cast a spell that will keep you warm enough to keep you from perishing in this realm. Come on now. We need to find shelter. It’s a long journey to the palace.”

“Palace?” You were still processing his words. A spell… he was keeping you warm, keeping you from dying… you bit your lower lip.

“Oh, have you forgotten?” Loki smirked mischievously. “I am the rightful king of Jötunheim. And you, my pet, will come to enjoy your new life here. Sooner or later.”

You gasped for air when a presumably heat-resistant collar materialised around your neck, attached to a leash whose other end he was holding.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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runemyth0 · 9 months

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Fire Red Z, Part 8: Volcano & Earth

Alright, you know the drill. Last time! On! Fire Red! Z! We trained real hard, did some soul searching, then won the Soul Badge from Koga. After that, we headed south and west, towards Cinnabar Island and the seventh gym badge.

And it actually went really well!

After surfing through the choppy waters of Route 19, we caught Seagrass the Tentacool on Route 20. After that, it was a quick jaunt through the Seafoam Islands (with about a half dozen cans of repel), then across the rest of Route 20. I did spot a big blue bird in the depths of the caves, but that might have been an ice sculpture... I’ll have to go back and check.

Cinnabar Island! The island of fire, some call it. Also known as the island of NOT HAVING THEIR DANG GYM OPEN.

While we waited for them to open back up, we stopped in at the research lab and got ourselves Calamites the Kabuto! After checking and finding the gym still not open, we went fishing, catching Sargassum the Shellder.

After checking one more time and finding the gym locked up tight, I decided to go invade the only other freestanding structure on the island for a key. If Blaine wasn’t willing to face me, then I’d just break in and steal myself a badge.

Unfortunately, looks like a bunch of other folks had the same idea and were looting the pokemon mansion for all its goods. Though, some of them seemed in a hurry to carry off a bunch of research papers.

I mean, I read the journals scattered throughout the house, but it wasn’t like they had any useful information. They just talked about some rare pokemon called Mew and another named Mewtwo. They also mentioned some place called “South America” where Mew was supposedly discovered; I don’t think I’ve ever seen that region on a map, so who knows what they were talking about.

Whatever. I found the key, then headed back to the gym. Waterlily Surfed through most of the gym trainers, netting a good number of levels in the process. Naturally, we made a quick stop at the pokemon center before we faced Blaine.

Blaine was ridiculously easy. While Waterlily did take a Fire Blast to the face (as did Ginger), Surf and Earthquake made quick work of his team. Volcano Badge acquired!

After I left, Bill showed up and dragged me off to the Sevii Islands to check out his friend’s computer set up. I got distracted while they were working on it and ended up fighting a biker gang and saving a little girl from a Hypno. I caught Palm the Exeggcute and Horsetail the Psyduck on Three and Two Island, respectively. I also heard about some big, scary pokemon living up on the volcano, so definitely going to check that out soon.

Once we got back to Cinnabar, Bill headed home and so did I, up through Route 21. I tried to catch a Tangela, but as it turns out, Wheat is just too strong, even an ineffective Razor Leaf tore through the poor pokemon.

Regardless, we stayed the night at home (Mom was glad to see us, for sure), then headed out to Vermillion City in the morning, after hearing a news report about their gym leader returning. I may have forgotten my pokeballs and had to rush back to grab them...

Regardless, we headed in to the gym, facing all the ground type trainers and making our way to the mysterious leader of the gym–oh who am I kidding, it was Giovanni. Who else loves ground types this much? I might have had a few concerns about facing him, not least of which being my entire team being fairly underleveled, just barely hitting his lowest levels.

But we were riding high off our last gym! Thus the battle began, even as memories of Cerulean flashed through my head.

Wheat took down his Ryhorns in one hit each, in part thanks to the secret technique learned on Two Island. Foxglove failed to OHKO Nidoqueen and tanked an Earthquake like a champ. She managed to drop Nidoqueen’s Sp. Def, though, and the next Psychic was a one shot. Rather than risk Foxglove against Nidoking, Waterlily subbed in and one shot him with Surf.

Earth Badge acquired! And apparently Team Rocket defeated forever? Cool, I guess.

Anyways, all I have left to do is make my way through Route 23 and Victory Road. But first, I think I should head back out and do some training. Not to mention I need to start thinking about the team that will face the Elite Four. And investigating those strange pokemon around the region...

Looks like I’ve got a lot to do!

#lyle plays #fire red nuzlocke #pokemon #pokemon fire red #pokemon nuzlocke

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louiszeastronaut · 3 years

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“𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎... 𝙸 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞” - Tom Riddle x y/n

Note: So basically, I took the dialogues from a scene in Little Women, when Laurie proposes to Jo, but she rejects. Then I replaced the two characters with y/n and Tom. I tweaked some sentences in the dialogues, and wrote the sentences outside of the dialogues with my own words just to make it fit the story... I haven’t finished it (3/26/21 I guess I finished it?) because I wanted to know if you all think I should continue or not. Idk what this is man lol.

Warnings: terrible grammar and punctuation mistakes :)) Word Count: 1,447

March 19, 2021

“Penelope married” you said aloud.

“Nanette of to Europe.” there was a brief pause between you and Tom.

“And now that you’re a graduate you’ll be off on a long holiday” you continued, panting as you walked down the sloping hill.

“I’m not good like Padma, so I’m angry and I’m restless.”

“You don’t have to stay here y/n” he suggested

“Why?” “Should we run off and join a pirate ship?” You joked, turning your attention back to him, grinning at yourself. You peered at him just after laying your eyes on the orange and red maple trees that lie so vibrantly, and vastly ahead of you. Then you saw his solemn face. And yours fell into a yearning grave of its own.

“No. No…” you stared blankly at him, knowing what he’s hinting at.

“It’s no use y/n” he reached for your hands, but you neglected it and pulled away “Y/n we’ve got to have it out…”

“No please don’t-

“I have loved you ever since I’ve known you y/n I couldn’t help it!”

“Tom… no-

“A-and I tried to show you, and you wouldn’t let me, even though I struggle to show it to anyone-

“But I must make you hear it now, and give me an answer because-” he said through a weighted sigh, “Because I cannot go on like this any longer y/n!”

“No..”

“I gave up the dark arts, I gave up everything you didn’t like, I’m happy I did. It’s fine. And I waited and I never complained!” He cried aloud, spectacles of tears starts forming in his eyes, then rolling down his pale cheek.

“Cause I-“ he paused, face angry and flustered that he’s showing his rather pathetic side to you, and letting the fact that he’s showing this just to profess his love, is absolutely harrowing and ludicrous! Even for him. But he can’t seem to hinder himself away from it, nor does he feel like he has to, because at this point he had to finish what he didn’t originally appointed to say. “Cause I figured you’d love me y/n!” He yelled.

“A-and I realized I’m not half as good enough-

“No! Yes you are!” You exclaimed back.

“And I’m not this great man, and-

“No! No Tom, yes you are!” “You are.” He stopped talking, catching his breath so you finally had your turn of say.

“You’re a great deal too good for me” you say as you pointed your finger on his chest, nudging it reassuringly. “And I’m so grateful to you. And I’m so proud of you and- and I just don’t see why I can’t love as you want me to“ you pleaded. “I don’t know why”

“You can’t?” Tom asked in a whisper, his eyes darted away as you hear the echo in his voice.

“No… I can’t- I can’t change how I feel. And it would be a lie to say that I do, when I don’t”

“I’m so sorry Tom-“ your eyes still fixed on him, you could see him thinking, biting the insides of his cheek. “I’m so sorry” you repeated more imploringly. “But I just can’t help it…”

“I can’t love anyone else y/n I only love you” he admitted

“Tom it would be a disaster if we were married, okay?”

“It wouldn’t be a disaster!” He argued

“We’d be miserable-

“GOD BE A PERFECT SAINT!” He yelled

“I CAN’T! I can’t! I’ve tried it- and I’ve failed!” you exclaimed, your words trembling in the end. You realized you were staring directly through his cold grey eyes, used to be full of depth and sudden rupture, but now clouded with his blinded feelings that you can’t help but hopelessly deny. Both of you let the words hang over the air for a while...

“Why does everyone expect it then?!” He continued, “Why does your family and my friends expect it?!”

“Why are you saying this?! Say yes-“ he nudged his hand forward, offering you something you have stubbornly refused many times in this feud “And let’s be happy together.”

“I can’t say yes truly. So I’m not gonna say it at all. And you’ll see that I’m right eventually and you’ll thank me for it“ you explained grabbing ahold of both his freezing hands in front of you, making sure he understood where you’re coming from. Your clutch loosened as he writhes away from hands.

He breathed out more heavily than before, head shaking, headspace nowhere to be found. He was tired of rambling and letting his words foam out of his mouth. It was quiet for a brief moment that it felt like everything around you suddenly vanished, and you two were left alone with only your souls crying out to be heard by the other. The air was taut and quiet, that you noticed his uneven breathing patterns, and only then you recognized that your heart was beating the same way. Beat. Breath. Beat… Breath… Beat…..

“I’d rather hang myself then realize this y/n.” He broke the silence.

“Tom-“

“I would rather be dead.”

“Tom don’t say that!” you bellowed wearily. He put his hands in his pocket and started walking away. You could see his jaw clenching, you’ve learned from your time spent being with him that he does this only when he’s angry. But, not like this. He’s still trudging even more further down the hill, his shoulders bouncing as gravity pulled him down, so you had to catch up. “Tom, listen...” “You’ll find some lovely accomplished girl!” you say as you flailed your arm in the air, then reach up to grasp his shoulder from behind, while resting your other hand on his tensed back. Only to find him tearing his arm away from your touch, rather harshly. You felt his hurt. You felt guilty for ever making anyone feel this way. Especially if that ‘anyone’ is him.

“Who will love you and adore you, and- and she’ll make a fine mistress for your fine house! But I wouldn’t alright?!”

“Yes you would y/n...”

“Tom. Tom- look at me!” “I’m homely, and I’m awkward, and I’m odd!”

“I love you y/n....” Tom said in a monotone voice, watching you play out and degrade yourself as what you think your negative qualities are, just so that you could point out to him why you think you two shouldn’t be together.

“And you’d be ashamed me of me-” you added

“I love you y/n.” He interrupted, repeating the same words but more clamorously this time. “And-and we would quarrel, we can’t help it even now!!!” you shouted, later noticing how unapologetically you sounded. You wanted to keep talking but you decided to stop to catch your breath first. You could feel the burn rising in your throat from yelling, but you continued on. “I’d hate elegant society, you’d hate my scribbling... and we would be unhappy, and we wished we hadn’t done it! And- and everything will be horrid-” You ranted. You opened your mouth again to say something but decided against it. Now, you’re looking down at the ground as you think how you might’ve made the situation even worse. You can’t imagine what Tom’s feeling right now... for all you know this was the only time he has ever confessed his bigger emotions that you didn’t know he had. “Anything more?” He inquired, laying his eyes upon you after looking away for a few seconds. “No...” you answered,“Nothing more...”

“Alright.” He whispered while nodding simultaneously, clenching his jaw again. He hiked up the hill slowly, dragging his feet along the sharp grass.

“Except that-” you appended, not knowing what choice of words you should declare next. As you searched your thoughts, asking your own brain to form the correct words, Tom shot his head back quickly. Bobbing his head along as he approached you again, as if he was waiting for you to say that you might feel even the slightest bit of devotion that you are willing to give to him in that tethered heart of yours. Unfortunately for him, still, that’s not what you’re after.

“Tom...” you started “Tom- I don’t believe I will ever marry...” you dismissed through a forlorn scoff, admitting this to yourself and to him for the first time because you believed that that’s where your fate have destined you. “I am happy as I am, and I love my liberty to well to be in any hurry to give it up”

“I think you’re wrong about that y/n...

“No...

“I think you will marry y/n.”

“I think you’ll find someone and love them, and you’ll live and die for them because that’s your way and you will...

“And I’ll watch”

(Finished?)

#tom riddle #y/n #tom marvolo riddle #harry potter #drafts #little women #prompt #laurie #jo #theodore laurie laurence #jo march #minific #angst #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #harry potter fandom #hp #tom riddle minific y/n y/m/n y/l/n

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tainted-wine · 3 years

Text

Evil Demonic Music

Priest!Reader X Demon!Present Mic

Hizashi has a large and filling feast on every Halloween night. He’s been doing it since before you were born. Yet here you are crashing his party while smelling like fresh meat in a den of wolves. It’s entirely your fault for throwing off his groove.

Disclaimer: Reader is more reminiscent of an action priest in a gothic action movie or anime. There’s little to no accuracy here. Lightning will most likely strike me the next time I venture outside.

Words: 7.9k

Warnings: Noncon/Dubcon, Christian Themes, Possession/Mind Control, Orgy, Public Sex, Sorta Corruption, Downer Ending

🎃👻🎃HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEN, EVERYONE!🎃👻🎃

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Yuuei Club Presents “Dance With The Devil” Halloween Event LIVE Music by Present Mic Costumes Encouraged // Doors Open at 8 p.m.

It looked innocent enough; a graphical poster on the door of a building surrounded by smaller businesses in the outlet. It masked itself well in the daytime with its plain exterior, devoid of any attractive decorations save for the club’s name that glowed in hypnotizing neon when night falls. All of its temptations were contained inside, dormant until it was filled with careless souls seeking unholy pleasures.

You didn’t hate them for it. The temptation to sin is strong. It’s how evil thrives, and the average person lacks the strength to resist. It’s your duty to protect all people, even the faithless, from evil’s many devices.

Like this nightclub.

Party locations like these were an uncommon feeding ground, although now that you think about it, the muddled and vulnerable minds residing within should make for easy meals. The loud and nonsensical “music” and absolute lack of restraint that the people displayed was baffling, but your task is to guard souls, not convert and guide them back to Heaven’s path. One demon in particular, however, favored ‘party animals’ more than any other creature from the vile depths.

“Easy there! You glare at this place any harder and it might combust!”

To the average human, the monster that appears beside you is nothing more than a tall blonde man with an inviting smile, but he can’t hide himself from the blessed and perceptive. Beneath the guise of spice and incense, he reeks of smoke and brimstone.

Hizashi, as he called himself, will never fool you.

“Stay back,” spit nearly flies from how harshly you say the words. You know that he can’t harm you, not while you wear your cross around your neck and calmly hold thoughts of your Lord in your mind. Still, you warn the dangerous fiend to keep his distance.

He obeys and innocently raises his hands. “Hey hey, you know I’m not out to hurt you, and you’re not gonna pull anything with that crafty little weapon there, right?”

No, you weren’t going to take a stab at him with the blade hidden in your holy necklace. You tried it before, an attempt to drive it into his back when he wasn’t looking. His hand caught your wrist at a speed you couldn’t comprehend – you were certain that you didn’t blink, yet you didn’t even see him move at all. His friendly smile didn’t waver, not a hint of anger visible on his face.

“Careful, baby priest! Don’t mean to sound cocky, but I’m way out of your league.” The warning wasn’t in his words, but in the heat of Hell itself that briefly washed over you, a sensation so powerful and real that you feared you were being dragged down that very instant. But the unseen flames died off the second he released your hand, eyes flashing a bloody red before returning to their usual emerald hues.

That was the first and only time you tried to banish him.

“I don’t trust you, but I’m not stupid,” was your answer, making sure not to let your hatred and disgust cloud your mind. He might take hold of that.

It was a satisfactory response, going by his bright beam of a smile. So friendly and inviting.

Months had passed when you finally accepted that he was a demon who genuinely enjoyed living alongside humans. He never spoke ill of your fellow men and commended them for their many ways of enjoying their short lives. Most demons you’ve dealt with favor negative emotions. Fear, sorrow, anger… those cold and bitter feelings attracted hellbeasts like flies to honey.

But this one? He fed on mortals that were as cheerful and carefree as him. All of this still wasn’t enough to convince you that he is truly gentle, however.

Hizashi stayed where he was, staring at his own promotional poster. The urge to leave was almost overwhelming, but you couldn’t let him know how much he unnerved you with just his presence alone. Instead, you shuffle awkwardly and try not to utter prayers of protection. Whether or not that will anger him is something you don’t want to find out.

He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Are you pumped for the best night of the year? Man, Halloween never gets old for me, especially in this day and age. Everyone dancing while dressed like a bunch of monsters...it’s almost like I’m at home! Humans sure know how to party like tomorrow is The Cleansing.”

“Yes, and it’s shameful,” you humor him. “I have no interest in debauchery.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s called having a good time, babe. Put the tome down and loosen up every once in a while.”

Put down the tome?

Loosen up?

Babe?

How dare he make you even entertain the thought of abandoning your teachings. You just know he’s trying to rile you up, to make you lose control. You won’t let him have his way. “I have my good times in moderation, on days when I praise God with my brothers and sisters with a glass of wine. There is discipline in everything, even celebration. Heathens simply get drunk and lose themselves in the madness.”

The demon chuckled as he ran his fingers through long golden locks. Just the beautiful sheen of his hair could probably attract the greedy. “Yep. Times sure do change, don’t they?”

“They don’t just change, they’re desecrated. What was once a day to ward off evil spirits now does the exact opposite. They’re too busy with their consumerism, candy, haunted houses…”

“Oh yeah, those haunted attractions are wild. So many of my buddies gorge themselves there. Free fear for the taking, ya dig?”

Despicable.

“And you don’t?” You test him. He was a conversationalist; a few probing questions won’t bother him, surely.

He withdraws his phone, scrolling through the screen for something. “Come on, you know me by now, don’t you? That sour stuff isn’t for me.”

“Forgive me for still struggling to trust you.” Sarcasm felt too risky, actually. You won’t use it again.

“Heh, no offense taken! You priests know just how cruel we can be sometimes. Mortals learned from the best, after all.”

Your lips twitch. His curve into a more wicked grin.

Every single passerby can’t seem to resist giving you odd looks. You can feel the eyes behind you as people make their way around the shops. Your garb wasn’t that strange; they’re acting like they’ve never seen a person in a robe and wearing several divine artifacts before. They would too if they knew what Hizashi was, who has yet to garner a single look of suspicion.

Ridiculous, his casual getup is actually fooling them. Perhaps the silly villainous mustache wasn’t big enough to give him away.

“Ah, here it is!” You nearly jumped from his voice and how quickly he leaned in, a video playing on his phone. “Just tap on the screen to play it an-”

“I know how to use a phone,” You hiss, taking the device from his hand and shooting him a glance every few seconds in case he tried something.

The video was chaos, an unsteady view of flashing lights and thumping heavy beats. Whoever held it was smack dab in the middle of an energetic crowd that sang and danced like barbaric animals. It was an orgy of overindulgence. Too much drinking with their comically shaped cups and bottles, too much lust in their crude excuse of a dance, and synthetic drums that dragged on for so damn long, even the beat sounded drunk. It’s not the first time you heard the horrid noise; it unfortunately appears to be popular among the masses.

God help these poor souls.

“Last year’s party.” Hizashi’s words cut through your thoughts. “Pretty hype, huh? Nothing gets my listeners goin’ like a hard trap beat!”

Oh? So he’s fully admitting it now? “So you’re calling it what it is, are you? Trapping them with your satanic melodies?”

The confusion on his face was very convincing, but you knew better. “What? No, that’s what the music is called.”

You couldn’t help but snort. “Please, demon. What do you think sounds more believable: A genre of music with such a simplistic and misleading name, or evil tunes that your kind uses to ensnare unassuming mortals that don’t know any better?”

“....um…”

“I thought so.” To think that he’d slip up so easily. He wasn’t as clever as he thought. “Tell me what happened to the people in this video. Are they alive? Or did you drain them until they were nothing more than lifeless husks?”

There was a snicker behind you. Both you and Hizashi turned around to see a young man holding his phone up with an amused smile, giving a little wave after being noticed. “Sorry,” he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I really like your costume, miss. Your acting is awesome, too.” With that, he put away his phone and whatever images he now has of you and continued on his merry way.

Impertinent juveniles.

“Anyway, they’re all fine,” Hizashi said, eyes returning to the door while tapping his feet to a beat you can’t hear. “I know how to feed without causing any serious harm. Even if I do go a little overboard, they’ll just brush it off as having too much to drink.”

“It doesn’t matter how good you are at controlling yourself. You’re an evil entity invading human minds.” It takes every bit of strength to not flinch when he looks at you. Again, there’s no anger – there’s never anger with him – and it makes you all the more uneasy. Maybe a being as ancient and influential as him doesn’t find a novice exorcisor like you worth getting angry or even annoyed over. “Your stench will remain on those people forever, attracting more of your kind to them unless someone like me finds and cleanses them.”

He shrugs and rubs at the back of his neck. “Come on, your boy is doing his best here. What do you want me to do? Starve?” He considers what he just said for a moment before laughing. “Nevermind, don’t answer that. Look, I ain’t leaving the stage, little priest. I’m addicted. The noise, the energy, the way everyone just loses themselves in all of it.”

The way his tongue peeks out to swipe over his upper lip has every hair on your skin sticking up.

“Man, I wish they knew just how sweet their own essence is when they’re caught up in the lights and music. Sweeter than any candy the kids will be bringing home tonight.”

He compares consuming pieces of a soul to children’s treats. “You’re really not helping your case,” you remark.

Another shrug. “C’mon, you say that like I actually have a chance at winning with you! I won’t hurt anyone in there. You have my word.”

You scoffed. “A demon’s word is-”

“Worthless, I know. See what I mean?” He withdrew a ring of keys out of his pocket. “Welp, I think we’ve stood here and stared at the door long enough. I gotta prep for the big night. Thanks for the company!” A few more seconds pass when he finds the right key and opens the entrance to the club.

You didn’t follow him inside. That would be careless.

Now it’s only you observing the building that will soon hold a giant living feast for the hungry monster. After another passing compliment about your “cool and authentic costume”, you figured you’ve stood around long enough. It was time to head home.

And find a way to keep everyone safe.

He was right; you have no way of getting rid of him yourself. That doesn’t mean you’ll stand by while knowing what danger these people will be walking into when night arrives. You’re not afraid to put your life on the line if it means protecting His children from the many evils on earth. When the first step of your plan takes root in your head, you change routes and make your way to the nearest costume shop.

Hizashi won’t be having his fill tonight.

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8:30 p.m.

You weren’t expecting to encounter two demons tonight.

Well, perhaps that term isn’t appropriate. There is no sort of aura attached to the dark-haired man that you can trace back to the pits of Hell, but he is undoubtedly a creature of evil. One that was birthed from the shadows, living for eternity by lurking in darkness and drinking the blood of any unfortunate mortal that catches his eye.

“I knew it. I knew someone so close to Hizashi couldn’t be human.”

The vampire at the lively club’s entrance didn’t seem fazed by your accusation. He wasn’t even hiding himself. The sly bloodsucker knows that his crimson irises and enlarged fangs will be mistaken for prosthetics. Very convincing prosthetics.

“Nice to see you too,” he deadpans.

You’re getting a little tired of these beasts brushing you off. “So what’s your feeding plan here? Waiting to find an innocent maiden who wishes to see the sinful wonders inside, then take her to the back and drain her dry?”

“Like you?” The smirk doesn’t reveal any teeth, but his predatory eyes are enough to make you step back and grip the cross that still hangs around your neck. Your reaction makes him chuckle darkly before he returns to his regular disinterested self. “I already ate.” That monster. “I’m here because Hizashi thought I’d make for good security.”

“So you intend to drink from anyone that steps out of line?”

“No.”

“Lies. Look here, vampire…”

“My name is Shouta.”

“...You and your friend won’t be preying on these naive humans for much longer. He told me about his trap music, but I won’t let his songs bewitch anyone tonight.”

He stared at you, one eyebrow quirked high up. “Alright...can you give me your hand already? There’s a line growing behind you.”

You look over your shoulder, and there is indeed a line of disgruntled people dressed as various monsters and characters. You have to admit that their costumes look to be of higher quality than the angel outfit you hastily bought in the store’s clearance section. The fuzzy headband for your halo was itchy and your flimsy wings were on the verge of falling off with every sudden movement.

With a glare that messaged him not to try anything, you cautiously extended your arm. He took your hand in his – deathly cold – and wrapped a thin paper tag around your wrist. “Have fun.”

You always hate it when you can’t read their smiles.

The suffocating darkness around him was lifted when you made your way to the same doors you were looking at with so much contempt this morning. Glancing back, you saw others happily complimenting his ‘spooky’ appearance, to which he responded with either a quick thanks or a grunt. None of them seemed to notice his chilling aura or ice-cold touch.

Why must they be so blind to the evils that walk beside them everyday?

When you stepped in, the music nearly blasted you back outside. So loud, but not like the angelic choirs during gospel. You didn’t feel lifted, you just felt bombarded by pure noise. A repetitive tempo made the entire building pulse like a heartbeat. This didn’t sound like the music Hizashi supposedly used to put the crowd under a spell. It just repeated the same forsaken beat over and over again. Perhaps the repetition is meant to ease the victim’s mind and lure them in a false sense of security, then those long rolling beats will come in next, ensnaring them when their guard is down. Clever, but not clever enough.

You passed the lounge and bar area, paying no mind to the lecherous behavior around you. Boisterous laughs, alcohol being carelessly chugged…

“Hey there, angel.” A man dressed as a superhero nearly tripped over his own cape in his attempt to approach you. “You as innocent as you look? I can introduce you to the boUUUURP.” The sudden belch burned your poor eyes with the stinging smell of rum.

Lord have mercy on both you and these savages.

“No thank you,” you said through gritted teeth and brushed past him. The lights and colors are disorienting. Strobe lights, spotlights whizzing across the walls and floor, and vibrant ever-changing shapes on every surface. The intoxicated folk probably welcomed the flashing chaos. When you drink at the church, your sips stay modest and controlled, ensuring to never reach the stage of drunkenness. If you were feeling ‘buzzed’, as they would say, this musical and optical discourse would likely feel pleasant, like entering a world devoid of rules and consequences.

Also known as a world of sin.

A huge mass of bouncing bodies covered the dancefloor, and there on an elevated platform, acting as an advanced musical throne, was the evil orchestrator of the chaos.

And those long curved obsidian horns were most definitely real.

Even as he tampered with the many buttons and dials before him, Hizashi moved as wildly as his prey, too caught up in his own infernal electronic hymns to even notice your presence. Surely your chaste energy sticks out among these wrongdoers like a dove in a pit of serpents.

You need to activate your blessing before he eats. Good thing the vampire didn’t bother to inspect your costume for any natural evil repellents that you happened to be carrying.

Your self-made pockets were filled with sage and rosemary, common herbs used to drive away demons and spirits. You sprinkle them onto the floor as you continue to make your way to the center, where your power will work most efficiently. Hopefully their scent will not be overpowered by the sweaty bodies and breaths laced with alcohol of all kinds.

Pushing through the dancing crowd was an arduous task. The music had since switched to something faster and more aggressive. The hectic sounds in this one was making you miss the boring but calmer tunes from before. You never considered what the sound of a robot vomiting would sound like, but it would probably sound similar to the cacophony of ‘whirs’ and ‘wubs’ that were assaulting your ears.

The mass was pushing and tossing you every which way. The variety of masks and makeup beneath the constant moving lights was rather frightening. Of course, you’ve dealt with plenty of real monsters, but it disturbed you to see your fellow man acting in such a frenzied matter in such a perplexing setting. You can see why Hizashi adored this environment. You couldn’t tell the difference between man and beast.

Straightening your halo, you decide that this spot will fare well enough.

Now it was time to apply holy water around your feet. Just a few drops of the blessed fluid will be enough to protect everyone here.

You close your eyes, ignore the many bodies bumping against you, and pray.

O Lord, protect me from temptation.

The water trickles out before you.

O Lord, forgive those who have been led astray.

“WOOOO SHIT! THIS IS MY JAM!”

The nearby exclamation makes your eyebrow twitch.

For we know that your power is greater than any evil.

The song is deafening, but you keep going.

Grant, O Lord, the protection fro-

Someone violently collides into you, knocking the bottle right out of your hands and rolling away to disappear behind the wall of stomping shoes.

Shit! Forgive my language, Father!

You elbow the fools blocking your way, ignoring the occasional “hey” or “watch it” during your desperate search for the most important tool against evil influences.

You didn’t even finish your prayer. You need to at least do that first, before it’s too late. Clapping your hands together, you shut your eyes again and moved your lips rapidly.

OLordprotectmefromtemptationOLordforgivetosewhohavebeenledastrayforweknowthatyourpowerisgreaterthanany-

“HERE COMES THE DROP!”

The rhythm and bass changed drastically, and with it came a powerful wave of raw exhilaration.

It’s like a force was injecting every positive chemical directly into your bloodstream. The abundance of newfound energy needed to be released, just like the tension that was released from that beat drop.

Your hips are swaying in a way you’ve never moved them before, and you can’t make them stop.

Stop! Stop, please! This is his doing!

“How are my listeners doin’ tonight?!”

The demon’s voice booms through the speakers, seeping into your ears and filling you with so much excitement that you can’t help but cheer with everyone else. Your senses feel simultaneously enhanced and dulled. The humans around you were out of focus, but the diabolical DJ up ahead was so clear, it’s like you were right in front of him. The hunger in his currently red eyes struck fear in you even as you danced.

“Woo, I’m lovin’ this energy! Thanks for coming by this Halloween, ya little monsters! Now...bring this house down!”

Your heart accelerates from the rush and you begin to jump in sync with the possessed crowd. Even the people standing by or sitting at the bars couldn’t resist, joining the growing horde on the dancefloor to jump in unison.

It was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Not a care in the world. No customs, no praise. It didn’t give you that warm feeling of ascension. Instead you just felt...liberated.

No!

Struggling in the demon’s grip, you cleared your thoughts just enough to try to calm yourself and regain control.

Utter a prayer. Hurry. Focus. You need His protection.

‘Baby priest? Is that you?’

That is not the mighty entity you wanted to hear. The voice echoes in your head, impossible to escape. When your eyes open, you see that above the vast sea of faces, Hizashi is staring right at you.

‘I thought the dancefloor smelled a little weird! I was so busy feelin’ the beat that I almost missed you!’ You watched him laugh as he continued to violate your mind. Damn him. Wasn’t possessing you cruel enough? ‘Please, no prayers when I’m about to dig in. That’s gonna leave a bad taste in my mouth. Just keep groovin’ like everyone else!”

Your limbs obeyed without your consent and followed the rhythm. This didn’t even sound like the music you heard in the video. Were you just foolish in thinking that he only used one specific sound to trap his victims?

With another change in the bassline, a heavier weight invaded, reaching right into the depths of your heart and tugging at your very soul. You know that fear will only make you more defenseless, but there was no fighting the terror that overtook you.

Not when a demon was feeding from you.

Your brain clashed with itself. You had to keep fighting, even as he stole a fragment of what your gracious Heavenly Father had gifted you and every human, but the cheerful voices implanted in your mind begged you to stop worrying and just give in already.

There was no stopping your movements or the unending rush that surged as strongly as the music. Only now, as he completely ignored your holy safety measures and tainted your soul as easily as the oblivious heathens surrounding you, did you fully understand just how great the differences in power between him and you were.

‘Whoa...holy shit.’

The breathless moan in your head made you shudder.

‘I haven’t tasted a human as pure as you in ages.’

“Please! You’ve already fed from me!” You scream out loud as the mob revels in the thrilling sensation of having a part of them sucked away. Your voice is drowned out by the music and shouts, yet you know that the horrid fiend can hear you loud and clear. “Just get out of my head!”

The dancing stops.

The music stops.

Everything stops.

It’s relieving to finally let your body rest from the forced celebration. The lights still flash and move in the dead silence. Every single person in all of their costumed glory turns and pins you with a sharp glare. Their eyes were unfocused and glazed over, consciousness elsewhere. Hizashi was in full control of all of them.

The demon himself looked down at you, no longer wearing his usual friendly and carefree smile. He was now showing the more twisted happiness you were used to seeing on his kind.

Crazed and eager to devour.

He spoke into the microphone on his headset, voice low and eerily calm. “Angel, you can’t just give me a sample of a five-star meal and expect me to not want more.”

The dread threatens to make you faint.

“Hey, none of that!” He laughs and switches back to his cheery tone. “I told you the negative emotions aren’t for me. I mean, a lady as sweet as you is gonna taste delicious either way. Why don’t you come on up here?”

You didn’t want to. You wanted to flee from this entire situation that you foolishly believed you were ready for. You thought you could sneak into this age-old creature’s gathering and force him to go hungry for the night.

Cockiness treads horribly close to pride, and pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.

You clearly didn’t have a say in the matter, what with your feet moving forward on their own. Every individual in front of you stepped aside to create a clear path from you to Hizashi’s platform. Their eyes never left, heads slowly turning as they watched you slowly climb the steps with legs that trembled from your resistance.

As he stood tall clad in leather behind the large mixer table, you noticed along with his sturdy horns, he also sported a black pointed tail that lazily swayed behind him. And his stench...the foul smell that would often make you crinkle your nose was replaced with a pleasing fragrance, like a sweet and fruity beverage. It was undoubtedly the work of his spell; everything about him has suddenly become tempting.

At this point you were wishing for the music to return so that you couldn’t hear your thunderous heartbeat as you stopped right in front of him. His hellish eyes observed you from head to toe, holding his chin between his fingers before shaking his head and smirking.

“Ya really couldn’t find a better costume?” He snickered as he got closer and fiddled with your cheaply-made gown. You avoided looking directly into his eyes, afraid of falling into the blood-red depths and never finding your way back out. “Or do you priests work on a budget?” He pauses when he notices the contents in your pockets. “Oh?” A hand is shoved inside and pulls out a handful of herbs.

“Aww gross! Sneakin’ herbs into the joint?” He winces from the smell before tossing them aside, leaving them to scatter into the unmoving group below.

How? His reaction should have been much stronger…

“Not that this stuff really works when I’m vibin’ in my element, but I’m hurt! I thought we had some trust!” He pinches your cheek, knowing that you’re unable to pull away. “And I thought you knew that I was way out of your league. You’re gonna need the big guns if you plan on keeping me away from my food.” The breath blowing into your face is abnormally hot.

There’s a layer of something otherworldly hidden in his tone whenever he emphasizes his words, like a filter poorly attempting to cover up a monster’s true guttural voice.

But once again, he switches back to normal, which does nothing to calm you. “But I’m not gonna get mad at some rookie that doesn’t know better, especially one as tasty as you!” Twirling around, he pushes a few buttons on the table that you didn’t even know where to begin to figure out.

“Sorry about the interruption, listeners!” He says to the crowd, cruelly acting like they have any ability to respond. They continue to stare blankly. “I hope you don’t mind if I switch things up a bit. Your boy is gonna be a little preoccupied during the next few tracks.”

The deafening silence is lifted with the start of a new song, and the people suddenly spring back to life, completely unaware of the mindless state they were in. Their only goal was to keep partying.

Your body was moving again as well, this time bobbing gently to the double and triple beats and low frequencies that vibrate through the floor and up your spine.

This...this was the type of melody you feared, and yet it didn’t affect you any more than the other songs. All of them were traps.

The only way you can think of fighting back is by filling your head with songs of praise. Keep your Lord in your thoughts. He will protect you.

“Tsk...angel, that stuff doesn’t work when I, ya know, already ate a piece of you.” His face tightened from hearing just a few seconds of the holy song in your head. “I told you, ya gotta loosen up a bit. You’re already dancing better than I thought you would!”

He paid no attention to his other prey, instead admiring your simple but energetic movements.

Then he began to move as well, shoulders doing a slow shimmy and following each of your steps with his own, moving closer and closer until he was able to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you in.

He’s warm. Not burning or emitting an aura of terrifying darkness. The music suddenly feels softer, easing your fears. Like an intimate embrace.

“There, it’s not so bad, is it?” He says lowly, lips almost touching your face. “Quit thinking about your big daddy for once.”

You want to protest against the disrespectful nickname for your God, but he predicts your reaction and tightens his hold on your spirit.

“You taste so damn incredible right now, don’t mess it up,” he groans and savors you. With every part of you that is consumed, it becomes harder to resist. It would be so easy to just hold onto him and keep swaying like this, rocking back and forth as his hips press against yours, grinding into you.

The unfamiliar sensation startles you, but Hizashi shuts down your panic with a growl. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve forgotten.” he murmurs into your shoulder, breathing deeply to take in your scent. “I’ve been so hooked on the party life that I forgot just how heavenly innocents like you taste. To think that I’d have an actual priest dancing with me, tasting that revelry from such a pure source...pardon my blasphemy, but goddamn.”

You’re swimming through the fiery haze clouding your mind, clawing against it in a desperate search for an opening. But with every beat, the haze thickens and you sink further in.

You couldn’t find the light. No salvation.

More sinful feelings assault you from the friction of his groin against yours, a growing bulge rubbing on your most sacred area. It sends a foreign tingle down there.

“Ooooh, don’t think I can’t feel that, baby” he rasps, holding you so closely in a dance fitting for two lovers. “I can sense everything now that you’ve let me in.”

That angers you enough to find your voice again, just barely. “I didn’t let you in...” You tense from another hard grind. “Foul...beast.”

“Are you sure? You’re giving in pretty easily. It’s nothin’ to feel bad about, I promise. Humans aren’t built to resist life’s basic needs, so I don’t know why the big man in the clouds gets so wound up about it all the time.”

How dare he.

“Damned snake!” You force your hands to beat against him and push him off. “You will not corrupt me with the Devil’s words!”

He’s actually shocked for a moment, even to your own surprise, but he laughs it off. “Geez, my bad! I guess you are pretty persistent. Must be…” He grabs the cross around your neck, ignoring your horrified gasp. “...this.”

With a sharp yank and a pinch at the back of your neck, your one remaining object of holy protection is removed.

And with its loss, his influence completely overpowers you. The clearness of your senses switches on and off.

The music is muffled. It’s too loud.

The roaming lights are blurry. Too bright.

Are you still moving? Or is your body too heavy?

“It stings a bit, but that little thing can’t do much when the wearer’s already under my control.” An unfocused image of the demon tossing your precious necklace over his shoulder, the necklace you’ve held close to you since the day you first stepped into the cathedral and accepted your role as a righteous defender of man.

Your essence is now being stolen so quickly that it makes you shiver. He shouldn’t be taking this much.

“Mmm, I can’t get enough of this,” Teeth that are too sharp brush against your neck, threatening to pierce your skin. “I’m an old guy, ya know. I’ve done a lot of experimenting over the centuries, to see what I’m into.”

There’s a rip, and your gown is being pulled down along with your wings. It only relieves you from the growing heat of your surroundings.

“Y’see, our daddy isn’t a helicopter parent. He brings us into the world and just...lets us decide what to do. So no, my words ain’t the Devil’s words. They’re just mine, honey. I live for myself.”

Tilting your head, he presses his lips against your throat, making your breath hitch. No, your body is sacred. Don’t let him do this to you.

You don’t even know when the music had changed, but you’ve noticed the club was filled with a synthetic ambiance, the colors switching to magenta and cyan.

The party demon is so captivated by you that he doesn’t even acknowledge the change in tune. “I used to stalk the depressed. Wasn’t worth it, they were too bland.” He peppers kisses down to your collarbone. “I tormented scared paranoid folk. Fun, but it loses its flavor fast.”

Your bra is removed to expose your breasts to him and the entire populace within the building. Your heart races, but the synths don’t stop seeping into your ears, the bliss wrestling with your fear.

“Shh, don’t freak out. I’ll make sure everyone forgets everything that happened tonight.” He attempts to reassure you while massaging your newly revealed mounds. “So time went on as I treated my palate to different tastes. Wasn’t long before I realized my favorite vibes were the good ones. Festivals, games, a few buddies hangin’ out,” he lowered himself and flicked your nipple with his tongue. “Or a couple fucking, I ate all of it up. And after a while I decided that I just liked people in general.”

The pleasure felt when your breast is engulfed by the heat of his mouth is shameful. Hizashi moaned at your taste, though you weren’t sure if it was the taste of your flesh or your lust that was exciting him.

“I liked it when humans were having good times, so I figured out how to join in on the fun and damn, how do you guys keep finding new ways to rock out? The prudes keep droning on about how my favorite type of people have lost their way, but I think they’re the ones who found paradise, and they’re not even dead yet!” After nursing on both of your breasts, he rises and grabs your face to turn it toward the crowd. “I mean, just look at how these guys – oh.”

‘Oh’ indeed.

The people were no longer dancing. They were grabbing at each other, at men and women they probably didn’t even know, tearing apart clothes in a vicious urge to fornicate right there on the dancefloor. Some of them were already completely nude. You avert your eyes to stare at your feet instead.

Hizashi cleared his throat. “Whoops. Look what ya made me do, angel. My lust got the best of me!” He held you close while watching the horrid act before him. You’re trying to move your heavy arms to cover your bare body. “No wonder I’m feeling so horny. Think I should make them stop?”

It takes effort to nod your head.

His lip sticks out in an exaggerated pout before going, “Nah. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen an orgy. I bet this is a first for you.”

Something tickles your hips, your eyes wandering over to see the arrow-like point of his tail curling around your white panties, tugging them down.

Part of you already knows that Hizashi is allowing you to struggle for his own amusement. With all of your protection gone, he can easily stop you from swatting at the flexible limb as it brings your final article of clothing down to your ankles.

Wearing nothing but the small strap around your wrist, you want so badly to curl up and hide yourself. You were completely bare on a stage with a demon quietly taking in your form. The contrasting feelings of anxiety and calm threaten to tear your psyche in half.

“Given how anal you guys are about chastity, I think it’s safe to say no one’s ever touched you before?” The way you tense tells him enough. “Alright alright, relax. I’m gonna make this easy for you.”

‘How? By letting me leave?’ You want to say, but your vocal chords aren’t cooperating.

He grinned from ear to ear. “Well, no. I told ya I know everything goin’ on in that head.” He grabs you by the shoulders and places you right in front of his mixer.

There were many suggestive sounds amongst the pile of writhing bodies before you. It was the most depraved sight that you’ve ever witnessed. These people may have been sinners for their immoral pursuits, but they were still victims of a wicked creature’s influence. You wish you could apologize to all of them for failing to protect them.

Slender fingers massaged your shoulders. “Ain’t it beautiful?” He whispers hotly into your ear. “I’m not that crazy about lust, but I can’t resist when it’s coming from someone like you.”

His aura has you shackled on the spot, unable to move or even tear your eyes away from all of the sex. His voice meshes with the increasingly sensual tunes, both him and the music putting you in a deep trance that leaves every nerve in your body extra sensitive.

You’re gently pushed to lean forward until your hands are supporting yourself on the table. The leather of his clothes pressed against your back is irritating, but easily overshadowed by the hands trailing down your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“One of my favorite hobbies was hunting down faithful maidens like you. All demons love doing it, really. You can’t top raw innocence, it’s always a delicacy. It’s the closest most of us will ever get to fucking an actual angel. I managed to fuck an angel, and lemme tell ya, it’s a once in an eternity experience.”

He reaches your mound. There is still fear and an urge to pray, though it’s drowned out by the electronic harmony and all of the hot sex.

“Now she’s a fallen one that hangs out with me. Pretty little devil’s obsessed with sex now. If you’re lucky, maybe she’ll give you a visit in your sleep at midnight.”

His fingers reach your untouched folds, making you gasp. You’ve never felt so much lubrication down there before. Was that normal?

“I was really good at the whole corruption thing, so good that I caught the attention of the big holy boys. They were toughies, gotta hand it to 'em. I decided to lay low after that little showdown. That was all a preeetty long time ago.”

The demon’s voice is background noise as you watch deplorable acts that you didn’t even know existed. One woman was taking a cock into her mouth while another man pounded into her from behind. A new male approached and grabbed her free hand, wrapping her fingers around him and encouraging her to stroke him.

Three men pleasuring themselves with the same woman. They were probably complete strangers.

The repulsive sight makes you wetter.

They sure were having fun.

Hizashi hums at your arousal, sinking a digit into your folds.

“Ah,” you choke on your own voice. His other hand plays with your breast again while you’re being penetrated for the first time. Some sort of flame was growing within you, burning and pleasing at the same time.

“I thought I’ve found my place. Going place to place and bringing in crowds who just want to forget their troubles for a day and groove.”

The finger pushes through your tightly clenched walls, or at least they try to.

“Fuck, relax a bit, babe,” he groans.

You do exactly that, giving him enough leeway to push in and out at a steady pace. You don’t think about the violation, only the strange friction that has no right to feel as good as it does.

“And then you come along,” An unexpected sharp thrust causes his finger to brush against a spot that fills your vision with even more blinding lights. “It’s not like I was after you or anything. You’re a solid negative ten on the threat scale, but ya just wouldn’t leave me alone!” He relentlessly hits the spot again, and again, until you’re crying out and your legs are shaking. “Then you waltz in here and try to ruin my favorite night of the year?

He’s able to hide his anger as he speaks, but fails to keep it from entering his possessed victims. The orgy becomes more violent, all of the people looking no more civil than savages in torn rags as they try to dominate and fuck each other senseless.

It affects you as well, going by how annoyed you’re getting by his rambling. Can’t he just focus on pleasing you?

His finger leaves you too soon, your cunt already missing the brand new sensations. “Sorry, babe,” he says when he releases you and begins to undo his pants. “Normally I’d spend more time warming up, but I gotta join in on the raunchiness now before I go nuts. Just...do me a favor.”

You whined, wiggling your hips and rubbing your ass against his freed cock. He only chuckles at your impatience.

“Slow your roll, I’ll get started as soon as you push that button riiiight there.”

You push one of the many glowing buttons, and stock phrases are shouted out of the speakers.

“No, the one next to it.”

You press it, and another song begins.

Hizashi hums in approval. “I usually do a smooth transition between songs, but…”

A hard impact knocks you forward with the overwhelming feeling of being completely filled all at once. The stretch and pressure has your mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

“....Yeah, I just wanted to do that. And-” He yanks the halo off your head and drops it at your feet. “-I always loved the symbolism in that.”

He wastes no time building up. You’re being pounded as hard and consistently as the energetic beat. It should hurt, but the euphoric state of your mind dulls any pain and discomfort.

With the demon inside both your head and your womanhood, there was no saving yourself. Your prayers wouldn’t even be heard through this thick depraved fog.

“Oh fuck yeah,” He growls loudly with his wild thrusts, hands gripping your hips tightly enough to bruise. “I’ve been missing out. So hooked on the party life that I don’t even remember how it feels to eat up a modest little soul like this.”

Was he still devouring you? You can’t even tell, not while you’re trapped in this melodic dreamworld as his cock rams you.

“Ya mind if we do this again sometime?” He angled himself to ensure he was hitting that sweet spot with each rhythmic pump. Despite his aggression, his hips moved with musical purpose. “Not like you’re much of a priest anymore. You’re fuckin’ a demon, sweetheart. I think the pearly gates have closed for you.”

That sounds sad and all, but God does he feel good. The entire moment was feeling like a hallucination. Your world was saturated with fuzzy images and muffled bass as your virgin pussy was ravaged. The tightened heat in your core was growing hotter by the second.

Hizashi just wouldn’t stop talking even as he became short of breath. “Ah, don’t worry, my doors are always open to misfits!” His rhythm falters a bit when you give him an especially tight squeeze. “Ya like that? I can always wipe your memory of tonight along with everyone else’s, and you can head back home. I just don’t think your next visit to the house of God is gonna end well.”

How does he expect you to care with the way he’s plowing into you?

His arms wrap around you in an embrace. “No pressure, angel. You can decide later. For now, just enjoy the show.”

And finally, he shut up and focused on fucking your divine lights out.

With his pelvis flush against your ass, Hizashi humps with newfound vigor, his thrusts rapid yet precise enough to keep stimulating your most sensitive areas.

The blinding stars in your eyes make it impossible to even make out what’s happening in front of you. A shame, because you want to know if you’re being dicked down as good and hard as the whores on the dancefloor.

The demon may not be talking anymore, but he was still being very vocal about his pleasure with feral moans and growls right into your ear.

An extra hard slam forces you to nearly topple onto the controls, hands scrambling to keep you upright and hitting several buttons in the process.

A series of sounds and distortion effects are added to the song.

It unexpectedly riles him up. “Shit, that wasn’t a bad mix, angel. I might have a junior DJ in the making,” he praises.

The tempo changes - different speed and new layers - and Hizashi follows suit by switching his quick bucks into deep thrusts.

The fire inside was close to doing...something. You weren’t sure what it was or what exactly will happen if this lasts any longer, but part of you knows that it’s about to feel very good.

With the head of his dick striking you nice and deep, you quickly learn that you were right.

The explosion of spasms was too pleasurable to even comprehend, each contraction tearing filthy screams from your throat. Hizashi bursts soon afterwards and fills you up with a cry even more lewd than yours.

Just like that, your mind is freed and the weight of his aura is lifted...and you feel gravely tired.

A coldness sweeps over you and saps every ounce of your strength. You find yourself dropping to your knees and falling over as a distant voice expresses genuine worry.

“Oh.......I overfed.” Though it doesn’t sound as panicked as it should.

You don’t want to close your eyes. You fear that something terrible might happen if you do, but your eyelids are quickly becoming too heavy to fight.

“Really sorry, little priest! I didn’t mean to! Look at the bright side - my friends are gonna love ya down there! Home isn’t half as bad as those books make it out to be!”

Each word sounds fainter than the last, but you still catch each one.

Home?

Your eyes shut.

And the remains of your soul become stained with ash and black before heading downwards into the demonic realm.

Welcome home.

#smut #present mic #yamada hizashi #present mic x reader #broke: EDM is soulless #woke: EDM steals souls #tw noncon #tw death #tw mind control

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ajokeformur-ray · 3 years

Text

Eyes on me, sweetheart // Joker x Reader // comfort.

Summary: Something you see in a television show upsets you badly and within seconds you’re sobbing. Joker’s right where you need him to be, he knows every part of you like the back of his bruised hand, and he comforts you in a way no other can.

A/N: I was watching a K-Drama today (An Angel’s Last Mission: Love) and something in it really upset me so there’s some degree of self-insert here as I wrote this to comfort myself. Having said that, there’s nothing overly personal except for the fact that something Y/N saw on TV was upsetting for them. I’ve not listed any details about that so that it’s applicable to more people. I hope you enjoy this, darlings!💜🌸💙💗🤗

Word count: 1, 443.

“Oh, no,” Joker’s quiet and rushed exhalation as he leaned forward to grab the old, battered television remote from the coffee table was lost to you over the roaring in your ears. You knew what was coming, you knew, but you couldn’t look away from the aged pixels. You hoped, in vain, that your eyes were deceiving you, but with that burning sensation in the back of your nose and in the back of your eyes of tears as yet unshed, you knew that they weren’t.

You had told Joker so very long ago on a night very reminiscent of this one that he was your knight clad in red and in moments like this did that sentiment ring with the most truth. Time and time again did your clown save you, did he give you a reason to laugh, to smile, a reason to simply be, and in times like this did he catch you before you fell, though of course was there nothing romantic about crumbling. Society had dragged him down until there was nothing left to give, but he would be damned if he allowed the same thing to happen to you. The one thing which you couldn’t tolerate in a television show was playing out before you, and you were already too upset over what hadn’t yet happened to be able to do anything about it. Joker, a perhaps overly protective man who was only too aware of the emotional reaction which was building up within you in this moment, had the remote in his hand to switch the channel over before it had even occurred to you to do the same.

The news blared out and Joker winced as the harsh blue light of the television seemed to burn through his retinas. The new, brighter lighting in the previously gently lit room only gave his painted visage a ghostly ethereal glow and if you hadn’t been so distracted by your upset in this moment, you would have almost choked on the love which you always felt when you were around your dearest clown. As it was, your breath hitched and the first of many tears fell from your eyes, hot and heavy in their intensity. You gasped, trying to rein your reaction back under control, but it was to no avail. It was too late to stop yourself from being upset; you had seen just enough to upset you, though Joker had thankfully and undoubtedly prevented you from having to watch the worst of it. You had not expected that from the kind of show you had been watching, which was unfortunate because you had been enjoying it. Perhaps Joker would record it so you could skip past that scene in future viewings, though you knew that he would want to watch it before you so that he could warn you of other scenes to skip, loathe was he to see you so upset by anything or anyone. Anything less than a radiant smile on your face was just wrong in his eyes and he sought desperately to correct it, to comfort you and to turn that frown upside down.

Joker cooed softly. He understood you, he knew you, and this was just another small routine between the two of you which he was so heart achingly familiar with. He almost threw the remote down onto the coffee table as he reached for you with both hands, sure of himself and of his way, particularly when it involved you, his one and only person who understood him. “Shush, doll, I know.” Painted lips rained kisses down upon the crown of your head, royalty were you, at the same rate as the tears which fell and crashed around you, landing on your lap and on Joker’s; so closely sat together were you at all times. “It wasn’t real, Y/N, you know that.”

You nodded as you fought for control. Your emotional triggers were silly to some and understandable to most, but to you, oh, they hurt. For hours after did the images linger in your mind and you knew you would be off kilter for the rest of the evening due to this. Joker was only repeating to you the phrase he had heard you say to yourself many a time when in the past had this emotional trigger occurred, for you knew not how else to soothe yourself other than to repeat the logic of a situation. You wanted your Joker and, oh, but he was right there, gently rocking you side to side. You choked on another sob, your throat thick with tears, and pushed yourself into Joker. The long thought, dearly loved phrase, enfold yourself in red drifted through your mind and Joker once more picked up on your needs without your having to say anything, for his grip tightened and he tugged you onto his lap, his throne of crimson and your absolute favourite seat. His hands, then, slid from where they had grasped your hips and traversed your body like the well mapped and well loved terrain it was, up, up, his skin ghosting against yours when your shirt rode up to reveal tempting slivers of flesh; and indeed did you shiver under his cool, calloused hands. Finally, finally, did his hands cup your cheeks and his thumbs rubbed away your tears.

His sea green eyes held their own tears, for the both of you were so emotionally involved and intertwined in one another that you seemed to share your emotions. Your pain was Joker’s pain in this moment. “Eyes on me, sweetheart,” his gaze, previously soft, now sharpened into that belonging to a hawk, and you knew that Joker wasn’t asking you. He was telling you. If you couldn’t bring yourself under control then Joker would, for he knew all to well what it was to get lost in one’s own pain and being unable to see the forest for the trees. He was always the one to hold you high above the trees so that you could see the horizon, no matter what the reason was for your upset. You always did the same for Joker, to the best of your ability, and in this way did the two of you guide one another down the path of life, hand in hand with a tight and unrelenting grip.

Moments passed, marked only by the ticking of the small clock atop the television, now announcing the weather forecast, and your ragged breathing. For every shaky inhale you took did Joker deeply exhale. You were whole beings on your own but together, why, you were unstoppable. Joker cooed once more as your face screwed up and you began to cry again with deeper breaths and stronger tears, and he tipped his head so that he could press a kiss to your forehead. Sticky lips which were cool to the touch marked you with red and you felt your soul begin to breathe once more, such was the effect which your darling clown, a fallen angel was he, had upon you. For every time your breath hitched, Joker pressed a mark of tender reverence somewhere upon your damp and puffy face, his lips trembling from want, from love and from distress at seeing you so upset.

You would upset for a while, this you both knew, and though you marvelled at how one small thing could disturb you so deeply, and over something which you had barely seen thanks to your clown’s very quick thinking and sharp reflexes, Joker didn’t, for he knew you and the depths of your soul. Impossible were you to describe without the use of celestial words and so Joker never bothered to try to name all the ways in which he loved you. He just, quite simply, did. You wrapped your arms tightly around Joker and nuzzled into him with your face burrowed into the crook of his neck, and Joker made a soft noise of understanding as he pressed you impossibly tighter into his body and held you there with a hand on the small of your back and the other stroking the back of your head. You were safe with Joker, just as he was safe with you, and even when all seemed lost and you couldn’t find your way, you knew that he was going to be there for you, ready and waiting with outstretched hands and a tender love which never failed to bring you to tears.

No matter what, you were his one and only, for all that you were and all that you would ever be, and that was all Joker needed to know.

AF/J @nothingclown @astheworlddturns @fluffedstar @jokersqueenofchaos @germansarechill @tsukiakarinobara @lynnesm @sagyunaro @greghouse @flowerglitterwoman @ben-solos-writing-avenger @jokers-doll @scaredclowncat @lilliryth @hotpacino @obsessedandthirsty @call-me-harley-quinn @arcanealaanais @cbloodmarch

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tttinytrash · 3 years

Text

Another of Shy’s lovely prompts! This time we have big Swap Papyrus as our merskele, and a highly unfortunate reader. Not much other preamble on this one, so let’s jump into it!

How had everything gone so wrong so fast?

The storm had come seemingly out of nowhere, and your tiny boat was being buffeted around like it was nothing. The icy sting of the wind-whipped rain juxtaposed terribly with the aching fire beneath your skin as you overworked muscles desperately tried to wrangle the lines to get you the heck out of this mess.

You lost your footing on the soaked deck and tumbled harshly, catching yourself on the rope around the perimeter of your boat just barely. You clung for dear life as a huge swell dangerously tilted your entire hull, threatening capsizing you and your only hope of getting out alive. It was in this moment you saw a faint orange glow beneath the waves, but you had absolutely no time to consider what it could be as you scrambled back to your position to try and regain control of the boat before you hit the rocky outcropping nearby.

You got your ropes again and fought like mad, but it quickly became futile as an enormous wave struck you along the starboard side and tossed you off the boat, into the rocks. Thankfully, you missed the worst of them but felt a sharp pain in your left leg. You fought back the pain and came back to air to see your boat had been mercilessly dashed into the rocks shortly after you, and had begun to sink.

You desperately paddled, kept aloft by your life jacket, but your safety gear was no match for whatever had apparently wrapped around your good leg and dragged you towards Davy Jones. You fumbled where you felt the pulling, realizing a rope from the boat was tangled around your leg. Thankfully your knife was still folded on your belt and you used it to saw off the rope. Without its pull you were rushing towards the surface again, but it seemed so far off you weren’t sure you’d make it from this depth. Is this how you left this world?

As your body was pulled upwards by your own paddling and the buoyancy of your vest, blackness creeped on the edge of your vision. ...and orange?

-----

Papyrus had felt the distress from a strong soul from deep below the waves. From his vantage point and because of his size the stormy currents were a novelty, but clearly for whoever had been caught above it was life or death.

...maybe he’d just go check on them, push their boat out of the worst of it and back towards shore. Yeah, that’s all. No biggie.

He came near the surface and saw it was lone human on a small boat. Jeez, how had they even lasted this long on their own? He was impressed, but looking for an opening in which he could help without being spotted. Humans spelled trouble for his kind, and despite the 0 EXP he saw in his Check he couldn’t not be wary. The last thing his bro or the rest of the school needed was hunters.

Unfortunately his caution meant the storm beat him to the punch, and smashed the ship. Oh Delta, was the human dead?

No! He could still feel the bright flare of determination somewhere... below him?

They were being dragged down by the wreckage, and as he darted towards them to free their leg he saw them do it themself. Oh gosh, they had a knife. The weapon made him hesitate again, which meant he felt their determination start to peter out. Their grip went slack as the knife fell away, consciousness slipping due to lack of air.

Curse him and his soft Soul!

He sped over, cupped his hands around them, and propelled them both towards air as fast as his fins could go. Delta let him not be too late...

The hoarse hacking when he made it to air was more of a relief than he’d expected, but after mostly clearing their lungs the fatigue won out and they collapsed into his hands They seemed barely aware and were just making drunken sounds, but their eyes did intermittently open.

During his observation, the waves of the storm actually managed to surprise him and dunk his skull underwater, but he managed to keep the human in the air thankfully.

There was nothing else for it, he had to take them in and get them both out of this mess.

He took a brief moment to spit out seawater so the human would have air, then slipped them into his mouth without much ado. Tossing his skull back brought them to the opening of his throat, and they weakly threw their arms out as if to steady themself. The sluggish movement hopefully meant they weren’t fully aware still, as he didn’t have any time for reassurances (he narrowly avoided being dunked again and the storm was getting even worse) and didn’t need a fighting human inside. One strong swallow brought them swiftly toward his core, at which point he left the surface.

One hand was absently brought to rest on his middle, where he felt the human slide in and go mostly still. He still felt the bright power of their soul, so they were alive, but they may have finally succumbed to exhaustion and passed out. That was fine by him, that left him time to figure out what the heck his next move would be.

-----

Wakefulness was slow to come back to you, and you spent a blissful moment in hazy awareness.

Sadly for you, memory snapped back into place in the next moment which made you to jolt upright. The rapid movement was more than your abused body wanted to handle, and it very clearly told you as much. Well apparently you had to take a breather, so you took stock of your condition. Your headache throbbed in time with your pulse, your muscles ached from overuse, and your throat and eyes hurt from saltwater, but you were alive. You looked to your legs, which were the areas that hurt worst. The left was a rainbow of bruises and may or not be able to be stood on, but you were both surprised and relived the underlying bone wasn’t utterly shattered from your unfriendly meeting with the rocks. Meanwhile the right had an ugly forming bruise and plenty of abrasion from the rope that had wrapped around you and dragged you down.

Oh, right. Now you recalled being dragged downwards after the destruction of your boat. So... what happened to you? You remembered rushing back towards the surface, but not reaching it.

Where were you?

You looked around and saw you were in a spacious cavern. The sand along the edge was widest where you sat, oddly bundled atop what was likely someone’s sail at one point. Maybe even yours. The center of the cavern, and indeed the majority of the “floor” so to speak was water. So this must have been an air pocket. How far underwater were you? How long would this air last? Then again, the cavern was huge for a single human so food and water would be the first priorities. But it was still concerning to have limited air supply.

Any planning ended when movement from the water caught your attention. A giant freaking skull of all things rose from the depths, followed by the rest of a skeletal torso adorned with an orange tail. Oh, god, the orange glow had been this thing?! What did it want?!

You were frozen in place, much to your chagrin and the monster before you focused its gaze on you. Oddly, it smiled when it spoke “oh good, you made it.”

“W-where am I? Who are you? What do you want from me?!”

He actually managed to quirk an eyebrow at you without having eyebrows. “in a cave, papyrus, and nothing.”

“...What?” Everything just felt too fast right now, but your panic did start to fade the longer the monster before you did a grand total of nothing towards you.

He laughed a little, surprising you enough to shake off a good chunk of panic and actually process that he’d been answering your questions.

“S-sorry. I’m a little scrambled right now.”

“got that part, yeah.” he teased.

You couldn’t help the laugh in response before replying “It was, Papyrus, right? I’m Y/N.”

“good to meetcha, kiddo. so, how much do you remember after your boat crashed?

“Not much. I was underwater last I recall, how did I get here?”

“didn’t miss a ton then. i fished you out, but with the storm it was best to bunker down for awhile. it’s still pretty nasty up there. i can take you back to shore when the storm lets up. for now, how’re your legs?”

“Not the best, but I’ll live.”

“lemme heal you up then.” he said, bringing his hand up towards you and approaching.

“Woah! Wait!” You scrambled to move away, only managing to tangle yourself in the sail and bring a wave of white hot pain to your left leg.

“right, big scary monster. got it.” He backed off, hands up in surrender.

You felt bad about it now, but couldn’t help that his sheer size made him intimidating. Even if he’d apparently been the reason you weren’t dead...

“let’s try from a distance then, show that i can help?” He formed a bone from nothing, glowing bright green and as big as your hand. Surprisingly, he shot the bone towards you, where it struck the bruising on the better leg and appeared to melt into the skin on contact.

You flinched, expecting pain from the impact, but found it just felt warm and tingly instead. Upon inspection, the soreness was diminished and the bruising was nearly gone. You looked up to Papyrus, mouth agape in wonder.

“heh, maaaagic~” he wiggled his fingers, clearly amused by your reaction. “can i help now?”

You hesitantly nodded, presenting your pretty busted leg. You two were stuck here for now, may as well give him a little leeway.

You didn’t scramble away at his approach this time, but couldn’t help but tense up anyways. He gingerly brought his hands forward, laying the very tips of his long, thin fingers atop the damaged limb far more gently than it seemed should be possible for such large hands. Even the feather light touch made you flinch momentarily before his phalanges started to glow the same green as the launched bone had been. Warmth seeped into your leg, and it felt like a warm blanket on a cold rainy day. The energy being transferred somehow carried a sense of benevolence, which made you feel safe.

“we’re lucky it’s your tibia that got the worst of it. bones are my specialty, for obvious reasons.” He said, smiling a little at the final comment.

You chuckled at his observation, “I can see why. And, uh, thank you for everything, I don’t think I actually said that yet.”

“eh, don’t mention it.”

For how odd this whole encounter was, it wasn’t so bad at all.

-----

Well, as comfortable as the human had gotten with him (not feeling the fear radiating off them after awhile was such a gratifying feeling) he still wasn’t looking forward to getting them out of here. He kinda knew this was gonna be rough, but with the storm outside finally quelled he needed to get this little human back home.

He had left the cave to assess the storm, but his thoughts were completely focused on how to make the next steps easier. So distracted, he almost swam past the entrance to the cave entirely. Luckily he snapped out of it and was able to redirect to enter the cave. The human perked up as soon as his skull crested the water, and he didn’t fight the smile in reply.

“ready to go back topside, squishy?” he asked.

“The storm is gone?” The human asked hopefully.

“yep, won’t be any trouble.”

“Ok so how do we do this? Are you just going to cup me in your hands, or...?”

“ah, about that. we’re pretty deep down, i don’t think you’d make it back to air just holding your breath.”

“Oh, well how did i get here then?”

“same way you’ll gave to get back, i just played submarine. i’ll just take you in, and you get to relax while i take us back towards the nearest port.”

“...I don’t follow.”

They were confused and hesitant, but not outright scared yet. That was good. The hope was that being casual and forward about it would play off the trust he’d already built, “it’s totally safe, but the short version is i’d swallow you and let you out later.”

There was the inevitable flare of fear, but it wasn’t as strong as it could have been. “Safely? You’re sure?”

“yep. you’ve already done it, but i’m not surprised you don’t remember given your state when i found you.”

They were silent, but a plethora of emotions swirled around them. He could easily feel their distress without even trying.

Better try reassurance and appealing to logic, then. “kiddo, if i’d wanted to hurt you, wouldn’t i have already done it?” he kept his voice soft, non-accusatory, and gave them space to think.

His words seemed to have cut through their clouded emotions and they nodded after a moment. “Yeah... you would have. Ok. If that’s how I get home, let’s do it. Can you just... make it quick? To uh... get me inside, that is.”

“you want me to just do it for ya?” he asked, somewhat surprised.

“Yeah, get it over with. I don’t want to think about that part too much if I’m being honest.”

“alright, can’t say i blame you.” He gently scooped the human into his hands, and his Soul sunk a little at how much they’d curled in on themself. “you can close your eyes if you want, i’ll tell you when it’s done.”

They took his advice, and he saw them cycle a steadying breath. Well, they’d said make it quick so...

He pinched the back of their shirt, hung them over his open mouth, and lowered them in. He was able to release them and the slight drop brought their legs into his throat. The extra space meant their head was fully behind his teeth, so he closed his mouth around their warm body. He felt their hands flutter blindly around the area as if they were fighting the urge to stop their descent. He decided to keep going, even if it felt a little wrong when they were so clearly anxious, to comply with their request for speed.

One swallow brought their hips down, and he felt his throat dip into the small of their back. Another gulp and he felt their ribcage stretch the ectoflesh around them, and a third brought their form fully inside his. He brought his hand up to trace their downward journey, until he lost them past his clavicles. He felt them spill into his belly a few seconds later, limbs flailing outwards as they startled in the suddenly more open space.

He didn’t think they really needed him to tell them, but went ahead and said it anyways “ok kiddo, that’s the whole trip. i’ll give you a sec to get your bearings before we head off.” While they settled, he leaned his spine along the sandy embankment in the cave and bought his hands to fold over his belly in concern for his worried passenger.

They did start to move around, movements shaky and uncertain. He didn’t comment, letting them figure things out as they pleased. Their tactile approach did feel pretty nice, actually, but he didn’t outwardly react for fear of discouraging them. Whatever observations their pawing at the walls and floor were helping them make was lessening the fear exponentially.

After a while he hesitantly asked “you doing ok in there?”

Their tiny voice sounded a little odd coming from so very close, “Y-yeah. I’m good. ...I’m good...”

“good. told you it was safe. how do you feel?”

“Confused? Overwhelmed? ...I’ve got a dumb question though.”

He laughed, which seemed to have knocked them over since he felt an impact inside. “whoops, sorry kiddo. but if you’ve got questions you can ask.”

“...What does this feel like for you?”

That surprised him, and he fumbled for something to say beyond “good.” They took up space, which was helpful considering it’d been awhile since his last meal. Definitely wouldn’t bring that up though, for fear of scaring them.

“Papyrus?”

Shoot, had he been silent for that long? “sorry, surprised me there. uh, i guess this feels protective? kinda feels good, like a hug?”

“But you can feel me in here?”

“of course. you’re right here,” he lightly pressed in where he could feel their weight, and heard the squeak of surprise in response.

The squeak devolved into laughter, and they hesitantly pushed back at his invading hand.

He chuckled and relented on the pressure, “alright, that one wasn’t even dumb. any more questions?”

“I guess that was the big one. Think I’m set to go.”

“cool, hold tight then.” He pushed off the sand, ducked out of the cave, and headed towards human civilization.

The human slid around due to the drastic shifts in gravity, but resettled relatively quickly.

After a bit, Papyrus offered “i can let you see where we’re going if you like.��

“You can do that?” they sounded excited at the prospect.

He turned his magic from opaque to transparent in reply, earning a happy gasp from the human as they quickly readjusted to take the best advantage of the view. He went quiet again, happy to let them enjoy the views of the ocean most human weren’t afforded.

This really wasn’t how he’d planned for his day to go, but he couldn’t really say this experience left him disappointed.

With any luck, maybe he’d get to see this little sailor out on the sea again.

#undertail vore #undertail underswap #soft vore #safe vore #extreme cuddling

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earendilslight · 3 years

Text

Soooo, I've been simping Thresh since 2014 and now I finally can be open about my love for him because of the cinematic, and since I'm about to apply for the C1 Cambridge certification and I'm in desperate need to practice my writing, it's a perfect time to write fanfics with Thresh 💖

It's just a very little text, maybe, if it gets enough love I'll turn it into an actual fanfiction. But in the mean time, enjoy!

Also, if you happen to notice any mistake let me know!

------—------------------------------------------

He came out of the shadows, where the dim light could reveal his features. It was a tall man, with long dark hair, dressed all in black, from the elegantly fixed necktie to the long-leathered trench coat that covered him down to the knees, a common attire used by the upper classes in Noxus. His face was slim, almost as the shape of the tip of a spear, with sharp cheekbones and a mouth that looked incredibly flexible as he smiled pettily at me. But it was not his smile that shocked me, no, it was his eyes. Eyes that shone like green, supernatural flames, like something evil lingered behind his mortal appearance.

The gaze of the monster in my nightmares. It was the same eyes that had terrified me for as long as I could remember, and now they were there, in the form of a devilman who smiled at me with cruel intentions. I suppressed a gasp, with trembling fingers, grasping at my robe while taking a step back.

I was petrified. How was I supposed to know this was the creature I pretended to make a deal with? I wonder If I would've been so bold to come here if I had known.

"Having second thoughts, miss?" he asked. His voice was deep, dark. The whisper of a phantom "You are indeed right to be frightened. Your soul would be in constant agony, roaming forever inside the lantern. Your friend made a choice, a very foolish one, I must say, and now he must pay the price of his own naive decisions. There is no point in wasting your life as a prisoner nor I'd like to carry a soul like yours."

"A soul like mine?" I said, trying to sound confident, but I could barely utter any words without stuttering.

"Do you wish to spend eternity in the lantern?" he asked, ignoring my question.

"No!" I replied almost immediately, without hesitation. The man looked pleased, even though there was barely a change in his expression.

"Then leave this place at once." He turned around,walking back to the inside of the house.

I realized how much of a mistake I'd made almost too late. I had been so scared that I was about to bail my plan and abandon Charles to his fate. I would never see him again, it didn't matter what choice I made. The only difference would be that, if I could convince that man to take me instead of him, Charles could be free and we could actually find a way to release myself and every other soul trapped in there. He, from outside, while I researched closely to the monster. And even so, I was shaking. Until that point, I hadn't considered the whole implications of being at the services of this devil, and the possibility of dying or, in the worst case scenario, spending the entire eternity in agony, was terrifying. But, hadn't Charles made sacrifices for me too? He was the only family I had left. The thought of my little brother suffering forever was unbearable, wasn't I supposed to be the one to protect him?

I couldn't abandon him like this...

"Wait!" I cried, so hard that it echoed across the entire yard and inside the manor. The man stopped at the door, turning slowly, first his head, then his whole body, now barely a silhouette in the dim light, staring at me without moving a muscle. I had my hand extended towards him, like trying to reach for his own, and I realized he was observing my gesture.

"Maybe... I could be of use outside the lantern..." I muttered, not even sure of what I was saying. He chuckled, almost amused with my comment. It was a muffled sound, not even a laugh.

"How come?" He asked with curiosity. Now I had his attention. It might have been a ridiculous thought, but I was starting to believe it could work.

"You're new to Noxus, sire" I said, straightening my back with an almost futile intention to appear confident. "People here talk a lot. In fact, most of them are already wondering who this mysterious visitor is. Where did he come from? What does he want? Noxus it's not a place who treats kindly it’s visitors, especially those who appear out of thin air and might be dangerous"

"Oh, I assure you, miss, I do not fret a bunch of drunken peasants who might try to trespass. Believe me, they are right to consider me a treat".

"I also consider you someone with a plan" I replied rapidly, getting to keep his eyes on me, and now, he seemed kind of... surprised "You don't strike me as a man who just wanders around this city in search for souls to torture. I believe you are here for a reason..."

He turned completely around, with an annoyed expression in his sharp face. As if I were a ridiculous fly trying to explain to a deadly spider how to seam its web.

"Your reasons are unknown to me" I continued "but I do know that once the people of Noxus begin to suspect you, Gods forbid, those who roam in the shadows, you would be the target of much more dangerous creatures than just drunken peasants."

It was true, actually. Unfortunately, Noxus was a city where you could disappear while walking back home just for people to find your dead body around the market the next morning and no one would bat an eye for you. Not to mention the multiple cults that made human sacrifices to the forgotten deities, besides robbers, assassins, rapists, the spirits that still roamed the streets late at night. Not to mention people had seen members of the Black Rose being more active than before. If this man was careless enough, some of them would notice, sooner or later, that there wasn’t something right with him.

"And what does this have anything to do with the liberation of your dearest brother from the lantern? And with you not taking his place inside of it?"

"I can be of good use outside the lantern, like I said"

Oh, dear God, what was I doing?

"If you let him go, I will be at your service, sire. You can keep me alive, not... dead and I can do anything that implies going outside the manor. People would suspect much less if they see actual movement in the mansion. It's not weird for a lord to have people at his services, even if it's just one harmless housekeeper..."

He seemed… intrigued by my proposal. I could tell he was analyzing every word that came out of my mouth, trying to find a deeper meaning or maybe ulterior motives behind my desires. Keen eyes watching my every move and reaction, almost as piercing through the flesh, into the darkest parts of my soul.

"Imagine I agree to your proposition” he speculated “What makes you think I would just let you go outside as you please?" he started walking towards me. There was this dreadful air around him that made my skin crawl. Like my heart was sinking down my throat and my blood froze little by little in my veins, with every step he took down in my direction.

The glowing, flame-like eyes coming closer, slowly, like the inevitable march of time and death, until the man stood there, five meters away from me, and I could smell the scent of his clothing, carried by the wind. Incense and the sea. Not the dry wood and dust of the hills of Noxus, but a fragrance I almost had forgotten, the one I smelled when I was a child, in a ship...

"I'm pretty sure you have ways to keep me bound to this place" I said, without escaping his glaring and hiding under my robe my shaking hands, while he studied me like a specimen he was about to dissect. "I do not doubt you could trap my brother again, and me, if I betray you. Or to even kill me, if it comes that way"

Maybe he was amused by my daring, maybe he was surprised at how much of a imbecile I was. Either way, he didn't utter a sound. The wind started to blow, much more cold than before, a voice that sang between the trees and the grass, moving the branches of the cypresses and the oaks as if they were to start dancing with the breeze, dragging with it heavy, grey-colored clouds announcing the impending storm.

“Do you wish so much to become a prisoner?” the man asked once more. The surrounding darkness of the clouds made his eyes brighter, like wildfire in the middle of the sea, blurred by the mist of the bay. “To never set a food without being watched? To know the true depths of the despair that brings with it the lack of freedom?”

I smiled, softly. Even when his face showed no change, I could tell he was, at least, studious to my reactions. I believe he was expecting me to be frightened by this, or to a certain degree intensely disturbed. For better or worse, life hadn’t treated me kindly. Since I was ten years old I had been at the service of people who considered me little more than trash and a burden, the next master worse than the last. Ironical, isn’t it? Seemed life had prepared me to serve a monster.

“Sire, I have served my whole life as a prisoner. From one Master to another, I’ve been tied to Bilgewaters my entire life” I admitted, looking directly into his cold gaze and when thunder started to strike, his eyes weren’t dulled by their light. “I do not fret to serve one more time, even if it’s forever…”

There was something that changed in his air. I cannot point out what it was, but his semblance was different, as if the winds of the storm had finally made him feel cold, even though I doubt something like him would be able to feel coldness. His previous smile had disappeared, and his mouth was now a grimace, a straight line, which made the jailer look much more severe than he already was.

“What is your name, miss?” the man asked, with a muttered, calm voice, with both hands behind his back.

“Senara Raion, sire” I responded, trembling not only because that man made me feel paralyzed, but because a very thin but chilling rain had started to fall above us.

He stared at me, thoughtful, almost as if he were expecting a reaction on my behalf.

“Miss Senara, tell me…” Suddenly, he extended his hand towards me, with no alteration to his face. “Do we have a deal?”

I looked at his face, the diabolic eyes, his gloved hand. There was no turning back…

“We do, sire.”

Had I known the future consequences of my choice… I would’ve never set foot on that hill...

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Hope you liked it!

#Thresh #Thresh x oc #League of legends #League of legends fanfic #I'm a simp for that man #Daddy pls chain me #I should be studying instead of writing this but it gives me lifeeeee

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ahopelessromanticwritersworld · 3 years

Text

This is my extremely late fic for the Secret Santa exchange for @flightlessangelwings!!!

I’m excited for you to read this, and I really hope you like it!! I have a second part planned for this, so that is in the works!

This was inspired by @softpedropascal’s own pirate!Pero! AU, and I highly recommend everyone go check it and all of her work out! Everything she writes is *chef’s kiss* magnificent!!

Thank you so much for your patience! 💙💙💙

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Fem!Reader

Warnings: blood, violence, maritime action, lack of maritime knowledge, lots of Spanish in places

Ángel de la Muerte

As Pero felt the warm blood of his blade’s latest victim, he closed his eyes for a brief second. In that time, he prayed that perhaps today, of all days, would be the day that he finds the answers he was searching for. The man that he had just struck down had also been the last man that had taken part in taking you aboard a rival captain’s ship.

Pero had discovered your kidnapping when he stopped at your home city’s harbor and went to call upon you. When he arrived, what he found was utter destruction. Your door had marks in it as though someone had tried to axe their way through. All your furniture was overturned and thrown about the room. It was obvious that someone had either broken in recently, and you hadn’t had a chance to clean up yet, or…

Pero still shudders when he remembers his reaction to the second, more likely scenario as to why your home was in such disarray. He roared with a primal rage so unlike anything he had ever felt; not even the overwhelming adrenaline of a raging battle upon the sea got him this worked up.

After quickly interrogating your neighbors and learning some of the men’s names who had stolen you away as well as the name of the capitán they served under and the ship they had sailed away upon. He also learned that at least a week had passed since you had been taken, which felt as though someone had driven their sword through Pero’s chest, making his heart stutter and his breathing falter.

Now knowing that he was already working with a disadvantage for catching up to you and the dead men currently awaiting their visit from La Parca, Pero quickly made his way back to the docks and his ship, Ángel de la Muerte.

Pero was proud of his crew that they were able to mobilize so quickly; he couldn’t care less if it was because they feared him and his reputation, or if it was due to the fact that you took such good care of their capitán and they feared for what might happen to them if you were not around him any more. He was able to quickly set a course based on reports given to him by other seamen he trusted in the harbor who saw the rival pirates set off with you.

Pero was loath to admit it, but this rival capitán knew how to make it difficult to track himself down. Pero and his men were still searching for you, and it had been about two months since you had been taken.

At each port they stopped in, they gleaned another vital clue, whether it was a direction of travel or the name of one the men that had taken you. But it seemed as though each clue was smoke in the air: helpful right when he got it, but utterly useless when he began tracking again. The longer they searched, the more desperate Pero became because he refused to consider a world without you in it.

So whenever he or his men tracked down a lead, Pero had his second in command, William, write it down in a book to return to when plotting the next leg of their journey. That way, La Parca would have a ledger of all the men that had had any part to play in daring to steal away his tesoro and strike them down.

Finally, after four months of searching, he and his men were able to catch up to this rival’s ship. Pero was unable to stop the crooked smile emerging on his lips as he thought with glee of how he would cut these men down before coming to you with the blood from the dead men still warm on his face.

He was able to send a cabin boy to deliver his personal message to the capitán.

It read: “You have something that I want. You may think you have an idea of what you have in your possession aboard your ship, but I assure you that you do not. She will soon be back with me. She means more to me than you will ever know. You will not live long enough to rue the day that you crossed La Parca because I will kill you and every single man who touched a hair on her head. You may think you can flee, but know this: no man can escape La Parca.”

At first, Pero was sure that his reputation would ensure that the crew surrendered to him, but the longer they took to respond, the more his hackles rose. Then, the man on lookout called out because he saw them preparing to sail off as well as preparing their cannons. This made Pero and William share a quick glance. They both had no doubts that Ángel de la Muerte would emerge triumphant, but if they were forced to engage in cannonfire, there was no way to ensure your safety.

And this made the two men extremely uneasy.

Pero barked out the order to go after the ship, with his blood beginning to boil the longer he gave chase with you so close yet so far away from him. However, before Pero could engage in battle with this cobarde, the ship was pulled into a scuffle with a British Navy vessel.

Pero could only watch in horror as his rival’s ship was battered beyond belief by cannonfire, and his hope that you would escape unscathed dwindled to a quiet flame burning in his chest. Before his eyes, he watched as the ship was scuttled, and the victors began to sail away.

As Ángel de la Muerte made its way to the wreckage, Pero scanned his eyes among the flotsam for any signs of you. The longer he searched, the more he realized that you might not be alive. That didn’t stop him from desperately calling out for you as he and his crew continued searching for any sign of you. But when he came to that wrenching conclusion, Pero began to feel desperation and disbelief warring within himself.

There couldn’t exist a world where you did not live. Absolutely not! If you, his tesoro, had passed into the next realm without La Parca at your side, he would drag himself to the depths of el infierno and demand that you be returned to his side. And if he couldn’t bring you back to the living, he would demand from whatever immortal being he had to to strike him down. If only so that he could then join you in the after life.

Then, he could once again pull you into his arms, breathe in your sweet scent that was ambrosia to him, and reassure his sweet princesa and himself that you were really there, that you were safe and that there was nothing that he wouldn’t do to ensure your safety.

But right now, as William gave him a look and a subtle shake of his head, he had to come to terms with the fact that all souls were lost on this ship.

Now Pero gasped for air as his grief drove into him and made him feel as though his worst enemy had driven their sword through his chest. How was he to go on without his tesoro? You were the best thing that had ever happened to him, and now he was to accept that you were gone? NEVER!! He would never, in a hundred years, accept that you were gone.

Pero Tovar, capitán of Ángel de la Muerte vowed to all the gods listening that he would scour the ends of the earth and all the seas to find anything to bring you back to him, or he would die trying. And at the moment, he didn’t have a preference for either outcome. All he knew was both ways would eventually lead him to be reunited with you. Whether in this realm or the next, he didn’t care.

Pero glared up at the heavens, where he knew that his tesoro would be temporarily residing, if you had indeed left this mortal coil. He knew what he now had to do. He would track down a relic that he had heard only whispers about, a stone that was said to return the dead to life. And if it worked as it was rumored to, the stone would restore you so that it would be as if you had never left this world at all.

The groans from the man wounded at his feet brought Pero out of his reminiscing. For three years now, Pero had been searching for this stone that could revive his princesa, his tesoro and return her from muerte’s icy clutch. Before his personal quest began, he would have scoffed at such talk surrounding a mystical object; however, now he prayed that all the stories about this resurrection stone were true so that he could be reunited with his estrella, his North Star that served as a beacon to bring him home, no matter how far apart they were.

He barely spared a glance at the man lower than a barnacle in his eyes as William came up to him.

“My friend, look what he had in his cabin.” He opened up a journal, which had maps and scribbling in it.

“From his writing, it looks as though he and his crew lost something or someone valuable three years ago in Port Royal.”

Pero’s eyes slowly rose from the pitiful bottom-feeder to William.

“That could possibly be your beloved, amigo.”

Yes, Pero thought, I’m not an idiot. As soon as he realized that he might have gotten the biggest possible lead in his quest to be reunited with you, Pero crouched down so that he could be eye level to the scum.

“You will tell me what I want to know, then I will decide whether or not I should kill you. But if you dare to play me for a fool, I will take great pleasure in killing you so slowly that you shall be begging La Parca and Ángel de la Muerte to come visit you.”

The man whimpered, but did little else.

“What exactly did you lose at Port Royal?”

It seemed to take a great effort out of him, but the man finally wheezed out “a woman.

The captain wanted her, so we stole her away.”

“Where did you steal this poor, unfortunate woman away from?” Pero had to fight to keep his stoic composure in place when the man breathed out the name of the port city you used to call home.

“And did any one of your men or even you yourself touch her after stealing her away?”

“Never! I swear to God!”

Pero now felt that small, flickering flame of hope he had been nursing within himself for three years begin to grow warmer. However, before he could indulge in the heat emanating from this renewed sense of hope, he had to deal with the situation at hand.

Now that he had no use for the man, he quickly drew his dagger.

“Thank you for being so helpful.”

At first, the cobarde relaxed as though he honestly thought that Pero would allow him to live after admitting to such crimes against the capitán’s woman.

“But you see, you dared to harm mi princesa, mi preciosa tesoro.”

The man tried to move away, his eyes widened in fear. Pero’s hand coming down hard upon his shoulder prevented the scum from moving any further away.

“And for that, for touching what wasn’t yours, for stealing something away from La Parca, you must pay. For situations such as this, only one payment will satisfy this debt. A life for a life.”

Now this pathetic excuse of a man was begging for his life before Pero’s own eyes, and while he might have had some sympathy toward his fellow pirates since the harsher crackdowns by sanctioned ships in any other case, Pero was nowhere near ready to allow one of the brutes who stole away his tesoro to remain on this mortal shell.

Pero swiped his hand out and drew his dagger quickly across the scum’s throat. As the man began gurgling and choking on his own blood, Pero wiped the blood off on the man’s shirt and rose, keeping his eyes on the dying man in front of him.

It seemed an age, but the cobarde finally died and not a minute too soon. Perhaps that was only because Pero was so eager to see the demise of the man in front of him. As soon as he saw the light leave the man’s eyes, he turned to face William once more.

“Come, amigo, we must make our way to Port Royal.”

With that, the two comrades clasped their hands on each other’s shoulders before heading back to Ángel de la Muerte. Without another glance backward, Pero barked out orders to his men to throw the body overboard and feed it to the sharks.

As the ship changed course to begin making her way to Port Royal, Pero slowly climbed the stairs to the helm to overlook the crew working to ensure that they set sail as quickly as they could. He watched for a minute or two before he went to the railings and pulled out the chain that had resided around his neck for almost four years now.

A locket that had been caressed so many times by Pero’s fingers that he had worn the metal smooth over time hung at the bottom. Pero rubbed his fingers over it once more, knowing that a lock of your hair also resided inside but not daring to chance opening the locket for fear that a strong gust of wind would sweep the precious gift away from him.

Opposite your hair in the locket was a cameo as well, to aid the memory when he was away at sea, the shopkeeper had advertised. Pero had scoffed, as if he would ever require assistance to remember your stunning visage. But now that he hadn’t gazed upon your beauty for years, he was eternally grateful you had talked him into the luxurious purchase all those years ago.

Next to the locket hung the ring he had purchased with the hope of placing on your finger one day. And with this latest clue, Pero had renewed hope that this ring would soon make a home upon your hand. He raised the locket and ring to his lips and placed a reverent kiss on both before looking out at the sea once more.

“Te extraño, mi tesoro. Espero verte pronto. Te amo, mi amor.”

Translations:

1. capitán- captain

2. Ángel de la Muerte- Angel of Death

3. La Parca- the Grim Reaper

4. tesoro- treasure

5. cobarde- coward

6. el infierno- Hell

7. princesa- princess

8. muerte- death

9. estrella- star

10. amigo- friend

11. mi princesa- my princess

12. mi preciosa tesoro- my precious treasure

13. Te extraño, mi tesoro. Espero verte pronto. Te amo, mi amor.- I miss you, my treasure. I hope I will see you soon. I love you, my love.

Tagging people I think may be interested: @gamingaquarius @miraclemoreno @absurdthirst @scribbledghost @aerynwrites @storiesofthefandomlovers @f0rever15elf @cinewhore @softpedropascal @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @agent-whiskeys-sweetheart @flightlessangelwings @hopelikethemoon @jawabear

#pedros12daysofchristmas #pero tovar au fic idea #pero tovar #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x reader

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

Drown Myself in Someone Like You

Harry and Catalina have known each other for decades. But he’s never know her like this, set into the world that she comes from before. And along the way, Catalina serves to remind Harry that there’s good even in the bad.

AfroLatina OC!-Vampire!Harry, Demon!OC 13k+ words about 28 pages long. Reader be warned.

CW: Mature content (smut so only 18+ and up), Gore, Graphic Depictions of violence. Title is taken from Impossible by Nothing But Thieves.

Moodboard made by the wonderful @notinthesameguey (Happy Early Birthday!!!!!)

Enjoy my masterlist

Support me on Kofi

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It shouldn’t shock him. It shouldn’t make Harry stop in his tracks, seeing her leaning against the brick building, a cigarette dangling between her fingers. She never brings it up to her lips. It’s her signature; a sign of her coming and a sign of her going too-- the smoke trailing from the butt of a burning piece of paper around the tobacco. That paper is never lifted to her lips. It’s always a trail of smoke from her fingers. It’s all too fitting, all too ironic for anyone that knew Catalina. Like really knew her, like besides the permanent red lipstick that she loved to wear, and really knew the reason for the bruises that were on her knuckles. They’d know that the puff of smoke was a warning--always a sign to anyone that cared to read it.

Harry always read it. He always turned his head to the smell of a cigarette just to see who was holding it, if they were puffing it. He looks for her--more than he really should look for her. Catalina has to disappear sometimes. She has to go back, has to recharge. Harry can’t tell what makes it hurt, what makes him always sad that she leaves. He knows she comes back. Maybe it was because they were always at a distance. They got time together; they had their fun, but it was always with the sinking feeling that eventually, it would have to come to an end. That’s what made it bittersweet, knowing that inevitably it wouldn’t last as long as Harry wanted it too.

Still paused in the sidewalk, Harry’s aware of all the bodies passing him by. And there she is. Leaning against the brick of the building, a cigarette dangling between fingers. He knows it’s her. Even in the dark of the night and the distance, there’s no way to miss her forever painted red lips--sometimes they are glossy, sometimes they are matte. And even though she’s dressed in a black overcoat thanks to fall’s incoming chill, Harry knows that Catalina.

It’s one foot that carries him and then the other and then he’s at her side. “Huh? Seems like you look a little familiar,” Harry teases, his accent smooth and the timbre of his voice deep.

“Oh?” Catalina returns, barely turning her head to look at Harry. “Seems like I don’t know a mug like that one.” She grins though, her glossy red lips splitting to reveal a wide smile.

He laughs, gently settling one hand on her waist. “You say that now.” She turns into him, careful of the burning paper and wraps him into a one armed hug. “But you won’t be saying that later,” Harry adds on, whispering into her ear.

Catalina hums. “Like the sound of that.”

As they pull out of the hug, Harry nods up ahead, the downtown area is alive, even in the chilling night. “You hungry? I think that chili place you like is still open.” Her lips turn up and Harry knows the answer. “Or we get cupcakes.”

“Now you’re talking my language,” she laughs, arm winding around Harry’s waist. His jacket is black too, but feels like it can do decently to keep a person warm. Not that it matters completely to him. The cigarette drops from her fingers and she takes the pointed toes of her boots to stamp out any live embers. She’s always had a sweet tooth, as long as Harry’s known her. And he gives into it. Though he knows the sugar doesn’t mix well with his particular diet, he always has at least one taste.

“C’mon then. Car’s just up ahead,” Harry grins.

They walk up the block, her arm locked around his waist, his arm draped over her shoulder. More couples shuffle around them, edging to the side as they stride over the asphalt. The heels of both their boots clicking with their steps. Truth be told, they notice the glances, the way people duck out of the way. The stares never went away, not over the decades, or even the centuries. How long had it been? How long had they been playing this game?

It wasn’t even truthfully a game. It felt like routine, felt like their normal. Catalina would come up from the depths in a human form--it changed in the beginning but she settled quickly on the dark skin and wide nose, paired perfectly with big eyes and pouty lips. And she’d find Harry; or Harry would find her. And then they would spend the days, the weeks, the months, however long Catalina could withstand the human form; however long she’d been assigned to come up together. It was late night drives and hanging out in bars and racking up noise complaints from neighbors in hotel rooms or apartment complexes.

Harry is always up here, above the surface. He thought about when he first ran into Catalina that his soul had been damned forever and there was no use. What good could he ever do in a world where he’s cursed to be stuck like this? What good could he ever do cursed to always be hidden in the shadows? But Catalina never saw it like that. She took any day as an opportunity and though more often than not, she wound up with bloody knuckles or standing with cops questioning her, she never backed down from anything that she felt was wrong.

Harry liked to have a low profile but not Catalina. Maybe it was because she never needed to be worried about maintaining a life above ground for too long. She could always disappear back to Hell and no one would ever be the wiser, no one could care. Besides Harry of course. He always cared. Maybe a little too much.

“So what ruckus have you been up to?” Catalina asks, tucking her arm around Harry’s. Her elbows tucks in close to his ribs.

“You’d be shocked to know that you’re the one that causes trouble out of the two of us.”

“Me? Trouble? Siempre,” Catalina laughs. The night is cold and she can feel it mostly on her nose, and maybe it’s being close to Harry again that makes her spine shiver. But she embraces it. There’s not much time for them on this round. Her orders are pretty strict but Catalina knows she can squeeze in just enough time. Just enough to take those memories with her and tide her over until the next time.

Harry laughs, squeezes at the crook of her elbow. “Always,” he whispers. Harry leans them off the sidewalk into the crosswalk to head towards the parking garage. The lights are bright inside the structure, unlike the lights of the sidewalk. Harry holds open the door to the passenger side for Catalina and is quick to shuffle around to the driver side. As the car rumbles to life beneath them, Harry turns to Catalina. “So cupcakes for dinner? What does that leave us for desert then?”

She stretches across the console, her nails sharp but gentle as she drags them down the stubble of his chin. “You know exactly what I like.” Her teeth graze the shell of his ear. “Don’t have a lot of time unfortunately.”

Harry shudders at the feeling, her breath ghosting over his skin. “How much time?”

“Three weeks.”

Not a lot of time at all, but they can make the most of it. He’ll make sure of it. “That’s plenty of time,” he counters, turning his head now. They share a breath. This close he can smell the candy she’s had early and the nicotine still clinging to her clothes and skin even if she never took a drag.

“But not our usual,” she purrs, a twinge of sadness pulling down her voice. “But I’ll take what I can get.”

“Good.” Their lips brush, not quite a kiss, but definitely not innocent either. “Because I want every second I can get.” They linger there, not quite kissing, but still sharing breathes. Harry almost suggests skipping the poor excuse of cupcakes from the 24-hour grocery store. It’s not the greatest, but she loves them even if the frosting always makes Harry think there’s no way one person can enjoy that much sugar.

He pulls back though. But not before gently brushing her nose with his and inhaling one last deep breath of her candy and nicotine. “Cupcakes coming up,” he whispers. His voice almost doesn’t work, like in their silence Catalina was attempting to steal it from him but didn’t quite finish the job.

Harry keeps his attention on the road, but one hand slinks it way from the gear shift, though the car is an automatic, to Catalina’s thigh. Her plaid pants are soft against his fingertips but he knows the feeling of her skin too--how warm and pliable it is, how her flesh always gave into the squeeze of his fingers. “Where are you headed this time?” Harry asks, needing to know if they’ll spend the weeks traveling or stationary.

“I’m local this time. So I understand if you can always come out for the late night escapades.”

“You say that like I can’t go somewhere else after the hell you unleash.”

Catalina shrugs. “Wasn’t sure if you had gotten too settled here or not. You know I’m not exactly known for my caution or discretion.”

“Only when you need to be, are you. But no, don’t worry about that, Catalina. I’ll be okay.”

The night wraps around them as they step out of the car, staring up at the harshly lit sign and store. The place is small, a local shop. But they’re baked goods section is always well stocked. Catalina leads the way, heels of her boots clicking. The black jacket covers her from shoulders to ankles. Harry knows his attire matches. His jacket black too and hitting him at his knees rather than her’s going down basically to the floor. And while her wide legged pants are more formal in comparison to his jeans, anyone watching them would think immediately that they were taking cues from decades past. However, the worry doesn’t settle too deeply. Harry would rather be different and know it than worry.

The air of the grocery store is a tad warmer than the night though it rings more as both of them click against the laminate of the flooring. Catalina makes a beeline for the baked goods and Harry takes a quick survey. There are a few people lingering about. One woman looks positively frazzled, bouncing a baby on her hip as she walks to a register with diapers in hand.

He takes a pause at the front display of chips and watches for a moment as the mother approaches one the cashiers. “Can one of you unlock the formula display for me? I’m sorry to bother you,” she pleads, barely able to keep a whine that creeps up from the baby at minimum.

The young man nods, his bored expression never changing as he finds the keys and walks ahead of her back down the aisle. “When the hell did they start locking up baby formula?” Catalina asks behind Harry.

“Not sure. But I heard about a woman being arrested for stealing diapers a month ago.”

“They really arrested a mother trying to provide for her baby?”

“Shit’s hit the fan since you’ve been gone. No one to scare the daylights out of ‘em,” Harry teases, grabbing a bag of chips so they don’t look too suspicious. “You all good?”

“Siempre.”

The two of them head into the only line open and with minimal conversation check out. Harry pays before Catalina can even reach for the cash in her pocket. He can feel the glare but takes the bag and receipt with a smile from the cashier. As they reach the automatic doors, Catalina can hear the beep of the scanner followed by, “I’m sorry, I don’t--can you take the diapers off?”

Catalina spins on her heel and doesn’t need to tell Harry what she’s doing. She heads back to the register she just left. “How much is it for the diapers and the formula?”

The woman turns to the sound of Catalina’s voice. “What?”

“How much is the total with everything?” she repeats again, throwing a glance at the card terminal to try and get a look.

“24.75,” the cashier replies.

Catalina pulls out some cash, two twenties, and hands it over to the cashier. She then turns to the young mom. “Keep the change, for the next time.”

“Oh my god, no, you don’t--”

“For your baby. It’s fucked up that the system is choosing between two essential things. Your baby needs diapers and formula and I’m going to make sure they get that.”

“I-I can’t thank you enough,” the mother replies, tears beginning to well in her eyes.

“Don’t thank me. It’s the least I can do.” Catalina smiles before turning back to the door.

Harry’s outside the automatic doors and rubbing his finger clear of chip dust. “Going to do what I think you’re going to do?”

“Would I ever be me if I didn’t?”

Harry laughs, but shakes his head. “Follow me first.” They head back to the car and from the trunk Harry pulls out a black sweatshirt with a hood. Catalina slips it on over her long sleeved top and throws the long overcoat back on. Her pants will give her away, but it’s not in Catalina’s nature to always think things through.

She spies some spray paint cans. “When did you get into graffiti?” She picks the black one, knowing that if she stains her clothes it won’t be obvious though her heart wants to tag the store in red.

“I’m not. I have it from a project. Just never took them out of my trunk I guess.”

Catalina shakes the can before slipping it into her pocket and thankfully it’s deep and wide enough.

“Just don’t make too much of a mess,” Harry pleads.

“It’s bullshit, Harry. Mierda. They’ve already made the mess.”

He can’t disagree. “Front or back?”

“Front.”

“Playing with fire?”

“Siempre,” she returns, throwing the hood up over her head. Back inside the store, Catalina cuts through the wine aisle, casually stopping here and there to check out a bottle but making sure that she never lifts her head too high. At the end of the aisle, Catalina makes a beeline for the baby aisle. Right at the end of the row before the encap, is the locked up formula. Though the glass is tall, Catalina thanks to high heavens her boots give her an extra few inches. There’s a tiny banner across the top that proudly labels the section as formula.

The hiss of the can is loud but Catalina doesn’t stop. She keeps her hand moving. Her shoulder starts to hurt just a little by the time she’s done. Shockingly the hiss of the spray paint doesn’t alert either of the employees. However, her time of secrecy is up by the time she takes a step back and manages to drive the heel of her boot through the glass. One panel shatters and clatters to the ground. The second wobbles but doesn’t give way until she takes her elbow into the glass once then twice to make sure all the glass rests on the floor.

“Hey!” The young man shouts, hands thrown up into the air. Catalina turns, crunching the glass under her feet as she ducks back behind the wine aisle. “What the fuck? Seriously?”

The young man doesn’t even bother chasing after her, only stares at the mess on the floor of glass in the aisle and as he gets closer he can see written in black across the name Los padres no deberían tener barreras. “Fucking hell, that’s not going to come out easy.”

Catalina continues to the door. More people are shouting after her. She assumes it’s the manager on duty. They’ll review tapes. They’ll call the police. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is the message, what does matter is that people shouldn’t be constantly battling just to meet basic needs. Harry pulls up to the front just as Catalina’s heels click against the asphalt. She slips inside and he floors it, pulling out of the parking lot and into the street with hardly a glance at the traffic.

“Your best bet is to get rid of this car,” Catalina says, finally pulling the hoodie down.

“You don’t say,” Harry laughs, ducking into an alleyway once he feels they’re a safe distance away. “You’re getting an early start on that three weeks.”

“Trying not to waste a moment,” Catalina returns with a grin. “Blame me?”

“Not in a million years.”

They can’t sit for too long. It’s a sure fire way to get caught. Not that either one of them would be too worried about getting caught, though Harry does worry for Catalina more now than ever before. Just because she could get out of the mess doesn’t mean Harry necessarily wants her to get into the trouble in the first place. There’s too much happening right now-- it’s all over the news.

“We’ve gotta go far,” Harry states. He’s got a place pretty far out from the town, up in the cut of a dirt road. Normally, he would offer his apartment. But it’s too far into the city that they will get caught. Besides, the house farther away is nice. He likes the seclusion. He can come out at night and no neighbors ask him about it, the strange habits--out more at night than the day or why he never really has much in the way of grocery. It’s much easier not to answer than it is to lie. After a few more minutes, and the wail of sirens die down, Harry pulls back out onto the streets.

“Don’t want to live on the edge?”

“Never afraid of that-- for myself.”

“But me, you’re afraid for me?” Catalina’s been doing this a long time--sometimes Harry wonders how long. And even in all that, Catalina seeing all the hatred, death, and violence, she still continues on with a reckless abandon. At first, it was exciting, hearing her talk about all the trouble she narrowly escaped. Now, Harry worries and he knows he doesn’t need to. However, it creeps in, it settles into the deepest part of his brain sometimes. And he just does worry. He can’t help it.

Harry hears the slight confusion, the almost amused edge to her question. “Sometimes the edge gets a little too dangerous. Sometimes I just want to enjoy my time.”

“A little ironic won’t you say? You got all the time in the world.”

“Time doesn’t really mean much except when I’m with you.”

Catalina shouldn’t smile, shouldn’t be as charmed. But the sentiment is coupled with Harry squeezing her knee before slowly dragging it up her thigh.The material of the pants are thin and his hands are cool but somewhere warmer than the last time she remembers. And if she’s honest, she can’t really remember the last time she was on Earth. Had it been that long that she couldn’t remember anymore? Or was she just doing this too long?

“What were you saying about time early?”

Harry laughs. “I wasn’t the one that brought up time.” His fingers squeeze, pressing into the flesh of her inner thigh. “However, I do have a question about time.”

“Which is?”

“How much time in those three weeks for me?”

Catalina traps his hand between her legs before pushing up, leaning over the console. Harry knows the feelings, knows how her lips will feel against the shell of his ear. “¿Para ti?” she whispers. “As much as you want.”

The whine builds in the back of his throat and Harry knows she still has work to do. She still has a job to do. But knowing that he can have as much time with her as he can is all the more exciting. “You don’t want to tell me that,” he whispers.

“Oh, but I do,” she laughs quietly. She kisses down his cheek. “When’s the last time you fed?”

“Yes-yesterday,” Harry returns a shiver running down his beck at the graze of her teeth over the shell of his ears.

“Good.”

Harry presses down on the gas a little harder. The car accelerates, pushing Catalina back, but she counters the force just so she can trace the contours of Harry’s neck with the tip of her tongue. “I am driving,” he whispers, voice tight and caught in this throat.

“I’m playing on the edge again, aren’t I?”

“Just a little.”

“Want me to stop?”

With toes curling into his shoes, and readjusting his grip on the steering well, Harry exhales one simple word, “No.”

“Bueno.”

It’s an exhale when Harry cuts the car off in front of the house. The trees are dense around them and the moon’s light is cutting through the foliage just enough to guide him across the console to cup her cheek. In the dark, there’s a slight shine to her skin thanks to the moon but Harry’s eyes for a moment think he is cupping a tangible nothingness before her eyes come into his focus.

Before any breath can carry a word over her lips, Harry kisses her and Catalina grins into the kiss. She holds Harry’s head in her hands, not because she knows he’ll back away too soon and she wants to keep him there. It’s because she’s nearly forgotten what he’s felt like. How his skin is so much cooler than hers but still makes her feel like she’s been set on fire--but in the best way possible, without the smell of burning flesh and burnt hair.

Now all there is is Harry and the soft brush of his hair as it falls in front of his face against the bridge of her nose. There are soft giggled exhales and the light smack of lips meeting and pulling apart. All Catalina can do is drink in the smell, the feel, the taste of him--the last few crumbs of salt from the chips he must’ve been munching on while she tagged in the inside of the grocery store.

As her fingers trace down his jaw, around his neck and curl up into the nape of his neck, Harry groans into her mouth--unabashedly and without a care at the way his weight falls into her just a little. She takes it in stride and presses up against the door and window. Harry curls his fingers into the thick layers of coat, sweatshirt and sweater. “Have I told you just how dangerous you are?”

“Not yet on this visit.”

“C’mon,” his breathing is laboured, and his voice is soft as his lips brush over hers in his speech. “More space inside the house.”

“Getting old on me?”

His grin reveals all his teeth and Harry shakes his head. “Never. Just want to treat you right.”

“When have you ever treated me wrong? Nunca me has tratado mal.”

“And I’m not about to start either. C’mon.” He seals the plea with another kiss and finally pulls away from her. Harry parked in the back of the house, as to keep them under cover for a little bit longer before he could find a way to change the plates or get a new cart. So he waits at the bottom of the porch for her to catch up before guiding them to the front door.

The second Harry unlocks the door and flicks on the lights, he’s reminded of the fact that it’s been a while since he’s come this far out of the city. Everything is well kept. He pays a maid to come by every couple of weeks to keep it up. But it reminds Harry of when he first ran into Catalina, though he thinks it was less fate and more Catalina’s doing the more he looks back on it.

He brought her here, to this house. She had gotten into a bad fight and was sitting on the side of the road. While her being was influenced to be more human like, it was clear when she was injured that she wasn’t fully human. The normal red blood had started to turn into a thick black ooze and it would slow in time. But there was no way she could hang out just on the streets like that. Harry noticed her, on the curb, and while he smelled the blood of the others she had fought, he locked in the slow thudding of her heart. So slow, Harry thought maybe for a moment she might’ve been dying but when she screwed the top to her lip gloss back close, and stood without a grimace or groan. Harry figured then he had been wrong.

Harry takes in the soft grey couch and suddenly wishes it was another color. And though his mind wanders to a few interior decoration changes, it’s the warm hand of Catalina running around his back, over his side and nestling snug against his stomach that makes me forget all about those. He feels it, the slow thudding over her heart--or what should be a heart, even though she is full of heart, full of gasoline waiting for the lit match.

She kisses at his shoulder, even with the coat in the way and Harry gives into the way her fingers trace the opening of his coat and up over his chest and soon her palms flesh against his throat. His head is tilted back, resting almost onto her shoulder. There are a couple inches that differentiate them. But Harry can still give into her, drop his head back on his shoulders and flutter his eyes close to the feeling of her palm resting against his throat.

“Letting me in so soon?” Catalina chuckles, fingers pressing in just a little.

“Never let you go, really.”

His throat is released and soon his jacket falls to the floor. He takes the moment to spin and push her coat off her arms too before hooking his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest. They’re lips are like magnets, finding each other and impossible to resist the pull.

Slowly, he tugs at the hem of the sweatshirt. It does not go alone--her sweater comes off with it. Before Harry can truly drink in the sight of her, she’s making quick work of the t-shirt he’s dawned in, kissing down his chest. Her mouth is warm, tongue lapping at his nipples and Harry knows he’s a goner. He knew it when he noticed her on the sidewalk. But now there is nothing to do but succumb. As she works on the button at his pants, Harry exhales heavily.

“Please,” he pants, “wait on that.”

And she does, standing back to her full height and kisses him. “So what do you want?”

Harry’s laughter falls in a tuft, one hands cupping her through her pants. “It’s not hard to guess.”

“Always a gentleman.” He winks at her before they walk further into the house, leaving what outerwear and shirts have already been discarded to the care of the floor.

Her books make a soft thunk as Harry drops them to the floor. He kisses over her ankles, pushing the wide bootleg cut up to expose her skin. Sure they do this all the time but it never gets old. Harry can never get enough of the way her body quivers under his touch. He can never get enough of the way she shakes, and moans beneath him. There is nothing quite like it.

The air’s cool to Catalina as her pants are removed. However, it’s chased by the feeling of Harry kissing down her thighs, dragging right to the edge of her underwear but not fully giving into her yet. And she knows, she knows what he’s doing, however, it still winds up her gut. Catalina takes a fistful of Harry’s hair and tugs, “Mírame,” she commands. Harry slowly lifts his gaze. “Do not play with me.” It’s desperate as it leaves her lips. But there’s a bit of a snarl, that leaves her mouth too.

“What happens if I do play with my meal just a little?” Harry breathes heavily over her clothed sex and smirks as he watches the flutter of her eyes. Her hold in his hair slackens.

“Fuck,” Catalina murmurs.

That’s all Harry needs, the crack in her voice that tells him all he needs to know. He’s quick as he removes her panties and at the first drop of her, he groans. It’s been so long, too long. For a fleeting moment, Harry thinks about how much he doesn’t want this to end. He doesn’t want her to have to go back. But the thought escapes him completely when she whimpers, fingers tightening in his hair.

Catalina wants to squeeze her thighs close. She wants to trap him between her legs forever, but her muscles are quaking. She’s going to come undone and she knows it. But all she can do is give into the lap of Harry’s tongue and the push of his fingers. Her own voice, her own high pitched pants are almost foreign to her own ears. However the warmth in her stomach is all too familiar, it’s all too craved.

“Oh, fuck,” she cries, heels digging into the mattress and hips attempting to push up but Harry’s hands keep her pinned down and spread open. His tongue dances over her, teasing at her clit, slipping inside of her just a little. There’s a lew slurp, lips wrapping around her clit. Stars--that’s what she sees right before her mouth falls open and his name crawls over her throat.

Harry doesn’t slow, not until she gives a hiss and begs him to stop. Only then does he kiss across her inner thighs, up her stomach, between the valley of her breasts and then teases her nipple with the tip of her tongue. Harry can feel just beneath the flesh, the way her heart pumps rapidly. It reminds him, more than it should, of the times when his own heart still pumped blood.

That’s what Harry focuses on, the way her heart thumps in her chest, even through her back when she’s pressed up against his chest. His hips never falter than his eyes flutter shut as he inhales the scent of her, brushing his nose along Catalina’s neck. Harry trails his fingers up from her waist to her throat and just feelings, the way her body sweats beneath him, the way she pants against him. “Fuck,” Harry whispers, a groan slipping over his lips.

Catalina hums, reaching back to grab onto Harry’s shoulder--anything really. The bed’s a steady rhythm against the wall thanks to the pace of Harry’s hips. Catalina finds the buzz, the way her body warms even at the cool touch and sinks into it. She sinks into the squeeze at her throat and laughs. “Harder,” she breathes. When his hand tightens, she hums and can only feel the growing heat in her belly.

“You’re gorgeous, you know,” Harry starts, kissing at her shoulder. “When you beg for more, when you whine--makes my knees weak.”

At the confession, Catalina grins though the only thing she can vocalize is just the pleasure she finds herself falling into, she can only hum at the way Harry holds her neck firmly in his palm. She crumbles first, a hitch in her breath alerting Harry just how close to the edge she is, how she’s sure to come around his cock in mere moments. “Don’t hold back on me,” he coaxes, relieving some of the pressure from her throat. “I want to hear it all.”

Catalina feels her jaw going slack and the way her body tightens, coils ready for the pop of relief. She comes with a grunt, a string of curses and his name tumbling from her lips. Harry grins, turning her head to silence the sounds with a kiss. He swallows down the whimpers and when she melts, muscles caving in, he guides her face down, keeping her hips up. Everything radiates up. When Harry keeps a firm grasps on her hips, he knows his time is running up too. His time to succumb to the pleasure will be arriving shortly.

“You know you want to,” Catalina teases from below, pushing herself up to her hands, back arched still. “You know you can’t hold out forever. Not with me.”

It’s true. He can’t. There’d be no point. She’d always find a way, know exactly what to say, know exactly how to touch him to get a rise out of him. There’s no point in fighting Catalina ever. It would only serve to his detriment, so Harry chases down his own release, holding Catalina firmly in place with the echo of skin slapping against skin. The echoes are occasionally broken by a groan, from him or her and before Harry has any mind, the tension finally bursts.

“God, fuck,” he huffs, his body going lax, falling into Catalina. She doesn’t budge against his weight, just sinks into the mattress, laughing. The vibrations shake Harry’s chest and he winds his arms around her torso.

“Told you so.”

Harry kisses along her neck, shifting more of his weight off her and settling in behind her. “Never a reason to deny myself you, so you can save the sarcasm.”

Catalina turns, pushing up and shuffling to face Harry. “You’ll never escape it.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t want to.” The thought leaves him in a whisper and he stretches out for a kiss, sliding his hand down to cup her ass and pull her into him. Catalina hitches a leg, hands cradling his face. It happens again, in her stomach, the way his touch causes the butterflies and the heat to flutter.

Harry listens again, feels the slight thudding of her heart in her ribs. She’s alive again, even if it’s only for three weeks. That’s all he has to remind himself off.

After another round to satiate their desires, Catalina starts plotting where she has to go. She made Harry her first stop but with the time crunch she knows she’s got to get across state lines within the next two days or else the whole time will be spent chasing. Harry offers that they make the plan during the rest of the night and figure out car logistics in the morning and make a move then.

“You’re coming with me?” Catalina asks.

She sits at the desk, bed sheet wrapped around her shoulders, munching on the cupcakes that Harry went back to the car to get for her. The pen scratches over the map before moving across the page of her notebook--really it’s Harry’s old lyric notebook, but he transferred the pages to a folder and left the remaining pages for whatever random things he’d need them for and not it appears it was for Catalina. She licks the icing from her fingers.

“My car’s kinda toast. So if I stay here with it, cops might press me for me answers if they know that car’s connected.”

Her eyes narrow for a moment, assessing Harry. “You wouldn’t rat me out.”

“No, but I am one less loose thread. Besides, you’re not around for super long this time.”

“You don’t want to be a part of this. This isn’t the kind of stuff you do. You do good in the world.”

“I won’t be a part of whatever you have to do. I’ll be the willfully ignorant ride along, who buys snacks and patches you up, joking that I don’t even want to know.”

“That makes you an accomplice, you know.”

“A dumb one,” Harry counters, pushing up from the bed. He showered and put on a clean pair of boxers but hasn’t put on anything else. Whereas she’s dressed in a t-shirt and only a t-shirt, even though she’s draped into the sheet.

“Still an accomplice.”

“Please,” he asks, kneeling in front of her, hands clasped in front of his chest. The lower lip rolls out and Catalina sighs. She can’t say no to that. Harry keeps the puppy-eyed look, waiting for the inevitable confirmation.

“Fine,” she huffs. “But snacks--that’s your only job. No navigation.”

“Patch jobs? I’ve been told I’ve got a magical touch.” Harry pairs the sentiment with a smirk and his hands grazing along her thighs.

Catalina pushes into his torso with her foot, putting just an inch or so between him and her. “No. Snacks and snacks only. I don’t think I’ll be needing patch jobs on this one.”

“But if you do? I could take care of it.” His hands have continued to hitch higher on her flesh.

“Oh you’re impossible. Go pack a bag. We’ve got only a few more hours before needing to get out of here.”

His lips brush up her shin and over her knee. He’s quick as his fingers graze over her exposed core. She shivers, despite rearing her foot back. It lands square into his chest. Harry only laughs as he lets his body give to the weight falling back onto his butt just a little. She didn’t push hard, but enough force to warn Harry. He knows she could go harder. He winks at her before pushing off the floor. “Packing a bag. How long for?”

“Week and a half, max.”

When the morning light starts to just settle into the sky, Catalina’s quick to toss some of the spray cans into a black trash bag including the receipt to the grocery store. She’s grateful in the moment that Harry used cash. Maybe he suspected. Maybe he knew that after telling her about the formula being locked up was sign enough that Harry had to be careful just in case things went south.

Had they been around each other that long that he just knew? What had it been, eighty years of this song and dance? Did he just know the next line because of time? Had they practiced this over and over that Harry just knew instinctively? Whatever the case be, Catalina is glad. She needed someone, especially now, that just got her. That didn’t think too much about the way she didn’t think too much.

Crumpling the receipt, she tosses it too into the bag and takes a scan. There’s nothing else that can be linked so she ties it up and tosses to the floor of the passenger side. When they get back to some main roads, possibly on the backside of a shopping center, she can dump it there. But they need to get on the road soon. The morning is their cover for the time being and she managed to get a deal on a trade in on the car.

Harry tosses her the keys as soon as he steps out of the door. He carries a duffle bag and backpack. “Lead the way.”

It’s not too hard to toss the trash once they get into the city north of them. And it’s not much longer before Carl steps out from the house turned office, taking in the car that Catalina and Harry step out off. “The only thing on it is heat?” he asks, another set of keys dangling around his finger.

“Only thing on it is heat,” Catalina replies.

“Normally don’t do just straight trade ins. But this is a nice ass car. All I’d have to do is give it a new coat of paint and some new tags and no one would be the wiser.”

“Carl, I would never make your job harder,” she smiles and walks up to him keys just about to fall over the manicured black nails.

Carl drops the new keys into her hand and catches the other set. “Ain’t go through no tolls?”

“Cars just don’t disappear, you know?” she teases.

“Not without a little help.”

“No tolls. Stopped once to get rid of something. Parked in the back. If anything is captured, it’s not much.”

Carl can work with that. Not perfect, but more ideal than the car getting seen in a toll--that has a direction, more specific area of such. Harry is silent during the whole exchange and follows behind Catalina as she walks towards the black 4 door sedan. Though he should be more upset that his car is being traded in for god knows what, he is not worried about that. Harry finds a small bit of relief, one less thing for them to worry about.

He drops the bags into the backseat and quickly climbs into the passenger seat. “Since I’m in charge of snacks, I get control over the radio and breaks from driving?”

“If that makes you happy, fine by me.” Catalina doesn’t waste a moment more before throwing the car into reverse and peeling out of the parking lot. The clink of gravel hitting in the spin of the tires is evident. But Harry searches through the radio stations instead of worrying about that. Instead he thinks about how long they should drive before he insists on Catalina to find a gas station nearby. Harry focuses instead on the way the wind comes in through the open windows. He focuses instead on listening to Catalina sing softly to the music coming through the speakers.

“Driving through the night?” Harry asks. The evening has settled. The clock on the radio alerting them to the time of night. Nothing crazy, only 8.

“Driving through the night,” Catalina replies. “Let me know if I’m not obeying any snack breaks.”

“Where are we going?”

“Ah, that’s a question of navigation. And I’m afraid my dear, that’s not something I can tell you.”

He did ask to be the ignorant ride along. Just not this ignorant, but he nods a hum falling over his lips. “I’ll let you know.”

“We do need to get there fast. Within a day and a half.” While Harry didn’t anticipate needing to get there that quickly, he doesn’t make a huge fuss. Neither one of them needs sleep and he should be fine for at least another day or two before needing to feed again.

Harry watches the night pass, the stars become brighter the farther from the city they go and at the speed they’re rolling they look like streaks of white paint on a black canvas. “We should paint,” Harry says, still glancing out of the window.

“Paint?”

He finally turns to her, watching the way she keeps a recline in the driver seat, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting outside the rolled down window. He hadn’t felt the breeze, but he should’ve heard it. Harry continues on, “I’m sure you miss it, when you have to go back. If we have time, I want you to paint again. With me. Just for fun.”

“If we have time, sure.”

The right of the night passes without much, besides the two stops to fill up on gas. The radio plays and they sing--Harry much better than Catalina, which she never fails to pout about. However, it’s all good natured. Even when Harry asks, knowing that she won’t answer, where they’re headed and if she’s sure he can’t play doctor. “You’ve got one more time to ask me that and I swear I’m throwing out of this car.”

The morning skies are perfectly blue. No clouds in the sky either. Catalina knows she should stop soon. She needs to gas up and they need to lay low until the sun starts to set. “Long rest?” Catalina suggests, looking for the next exit to pull off with a motel nearby.

“If you’d like,” Harry shrugs, “Don’t have much else to do.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

It takes another hour before they pull off the highway. Catalina fills up the tank, arms crossed as the pump is locked and pours out gas. Harry steps outside of the car, leaning onto the hood. “Snacks?”

“Not really hungry.”

“We’ll come back out later then. Unless you need to make an errand then.”

“Evening? Errand can happen after.”

Harry nods, taking in the cars passing by. He pulls down the sleeves on his shirt. Possibly while she’s out doing her errand, Harry can go hunt. Normally feeding would last him longer but not around Catalina--he always uses too much energy around her. But it’s always worth it. Harry wonders if her constant leaving is always tied to her own recharge or does she know too--does she know that maybe they’re bad for each other? Not bad as in they bring out the worst in each other. Harry keeps her out of so much trouble and Catalina brings a little spice to Harry’s life that’s not normally there.

However, there’s always some sort of take. Catalina gets time to come up. She gets time with him. But it’s never a permanent deal--she never gets long enough. And Harry maybe gives a little too much. He pushes himself more than normally would. Though the gaps-- the times she has to return to Hell-- are hard, they might be saving them, keeping them from burning each other out. It was probably too simple to think that eventually they’d even out. But that didn’t stop Harry from daydreaming about it sometimes.

They find a motel close by and dump bags onto the single bed. “Make sure you behave when we share this bed now,” Harry teases, sending a wink her way as she steps into the bathroom.

“I am the last person you need to tell that too.”

“Oh contrary to popular belief, you are the first one I need to tell that too.”

“Maybe I’ll give you that one.” Catalina’s quick in the bathroom, coming back out to immediately rummage through a bag. Harry packed the clothes but she asked for hers to be left out and Harry’s not really sure what else she needed. However, when she unearths a phone, one Harry’s never seen her with before. He knows he shouldn’t ask questions. But the curiosity itches.

“I’ll be back in an hour max.” Harry can only watch as the door closes behind her. Maybe being the dumb compain wasn’t his most brilliant idea.

It doesn’t feel like an hour before she returns. The only thing new in her hand is a cup from a Burger King. “I’m going to assume you lock me in here just to get a breakfast.”

“Cased a place. What are you reading?” Catalina crosses the room, sliding out of her shoes and laying on the bed next to Harry. On her stomach, head held up on her hands as her elbows pressed down into the mattress.

“Nothing special.”

“Read it to me?”

Opening up his arms, Harry waves for her to get closer. She climbs the rest of the way up the bed and rests her head on his chest, one leg thrown over his left hip. Harry picks up where he was, not providing any sort of explanation about what’s happened prior to this moment. Though it’s still early in the novel, so there’s not much to catch up on plotwise. For the moment, he feels normal. Like he might be going on some road trip with his girl and they checked into some motel just for a day or two while they still head for their destination. And he’s just reading to her, as they take a break from the road.

It’s all too clear though when Catalina loses her patience for the book. Her nails trace over his stomach, she angles her head up, pressing light kisses along his jaw. They don’t even hardly make full connections but just enough for Harry to feel, just enough for Harry to know. Catalina kisses a little harder and Harry’s thought trail off in the middle of the sentence. “We haven’t gotten to a kissing scene yet.”

“Hmm, I skipped a few chapters ahead,” Catalina returns. Her kisses press a little firmer to his skin and Harry’s chest constricts. Her fingers trails at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up just enough to expose a thin band of his skin. That’s all she needs, just enough skin to tease before Harry drops the book to the floor and lifts Catalina firmly into his lap. Their lips meet firmly and he exhales, knowing he can’t not give into her. Not when she’s rocking her lips over his like this and the friction is just so deliciously enticing.Catalina sighs into his mouth as he brings a hand to her breast cupping it over the shirt pinching right where her nipple is beneath the cup of the bra.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Harry coaxes, pulling the her shirt up and off of her body. He kisses down her chest, and over the swell of her breast in the bra. Catalina clings to him, wrapping his head in her arms and sinking into the brush of his lips, into the graze of his teeth along her skin. The small pricks of his sharp incisors cause a chill to crawl down her spine and she keeps her hips a steady grind against Harry’s crotch, needing nothing more than him.

“It’s ironic,” Harry hums, tracing the lines in Catalina’s palm. They make her real. Realer than him and realer to him.

“What’s ironic?” she asks, cheek smushed into the pillow.

“I know you, have known you for so long. But I still don’t know you like that. Like I do know vaguely what you do. But if it weren’t for the time we’ve spent together I would be sure I was a ghost instead of a what I am. And I would be sure that you were one too. But yet, here we are. As real as ever. Being alive as long as I have been alive, things never are coincidences. I found you that night. I found you on the side of the road, bloody and I’m thinking holy shit, this person is halfway dead. And I don’t know. It’s the most full of life I’ve ever felt.”

“You’ve always been full of life. I’m not full of anything.”

It’s an age old debate. Harry can never call himself a monster, but she can call herself one. “If you’re not full of anything, then I feel bad for my soul.”

“You’re not damned, Harry. You never could be.” She squeezes at his head, fingers threading through.

“You don’t know what I was doing before.” Harry looks past their joined hands, the vibrant contrast of Harry’s olive skin and Catalina rich dark brown skin to his legs, halfway uncovered by the sheets. The scars always seem to stick out more, even if Harry doesn’t want them too.

“I do know.”

“No you don’t,” he retorts. “How could you know?”

Catalina sits up, staring down at Harry. “Because I found, walking back in the night. Three hunters were stalking you. They had followed you the whole night and you were young--young into this body. They were just looking for a reason.”

“Three? How would they have been following me without me knowing?”

“Just like you thought I was halfway dead. They weren’t human. Human hunters are too easy to notice.”

“So why’d you save me?”

“I wasn’t saving you. One of the hunters had gone rogue on their previous assignments and lost the trails of others sent after them. I was sent up to eliminate that guy and by that proxy I also had to kill his other two goons.”

“If that’s all you were meant to do is just kill them, then why’d you stay out on the side of the road? Why’d you let me see you?”

“We caught wind that this rogue hunter was going after more non-human creatures. I was told if you were a threat to eliminate you as well. So I watched them, watched you. I watched you cornering people in alleyways. I watched you want to give in, and I watched you succumb to it sometimes. I know every thought you’ve probably had, watching the cute girl passing you by from the bar and the blood is thumping in her veins after dancing her heart out and knowing all you had to do was turn on the charm, offer to walk her home and wait for the right time to get close. All you ever had to do was get close. I know about the men you left dead behind buildings after they hurt people. I watched for weeks.”

His throat seizes. The thoughts never leave him. For moments there he wondered why he had been turned. He wanted to curse himself for getting too close. Gabriella found him one day at the bar. He was drinking after a particularly bad day, his tire had blown on his way too work, he was late for a meeting because of it. His girl at the time was constantly down his neck about every little thing. He had found, after returning home, someone else in his bed with his girl. And that was just the icing on the cake. He told himself he’d just drink himself under the table, through the floor and into the depths of the Earth.

It was at that bar, after the day he had, not even a drink into the night because he was too busy trying to keep the tears at bay but failing miserably that Gabriella found him. She sat across from while he poured his heart out. She listened. She coo’ed, shook her head. She told him that a handsome man like himself didn’t deserve to be crying in some bar. He deserved to fall into bed with someone else. And it was so stupid. Gabriella was a stranger. He hadn’t known her longer than two hours, but he went home with her.

He got too close and that’s all Gabriella needed from him. It wasn’t until he regained consciousness in a dumpster and stumbled home that he realized something was way wrong. The world seemed to be moving in slow motion. The sun was twenty times warmer against his skin and brighter than before. When he opened the door to his apartment, it slammed open though Harry was sure he hadn’t opened the door with anymore force than he normally would have. If the day and night and previously had been the worst of his existence, the morning after all but shot Harry into an alternate reality one that he hadn’t and probably never would be able to any sense of it.

So Harry went into hiding. He soon had to resurface. He knew he couldn’t hide forever. So he did his best to reintegrate. It wasn’t easy. The smell of blood was always just too strong and though Harry had managed to survive mostly on animal blood, nothing quite satisfied the urge like human blood. He reserved that-- he tried not to give in on just any whim. If he was going to feed on human blood he wanted it to be good but it doesn’t matter if the person he sank his teeth into was morally questionable or not the screams all sounded the same.

“So-so you were sent after me to kill me? Potentially? If you thought I was enough of a threat?”

“Yes,” it falls with a little hesitation. However, ultimately, Catalina knows it’s true. That’s what she was told to do.

“And watched all that--watched me do that and didn’t see me as a threat.”

“I saw you as young and scared. But never as a threat.”

“I was killing people,” he retorts, springing up the bed as if someone flipped the switch on him. It’s the first time he’s ever phrased it like that out loud. “I was a threat, Cat. I was a threat.”

“Ay dios mío! When’s the last time you killed, Harry? When’s the last time you got your fucking rocks of killing someone?”

“I-I never enjoyed it.” His voice cracks as he speaks. It’s why he worked so hard not to give into those urges. It wasn’t easy and after Catalina showed up, after she would tell him he wasn’t a monster, it felt like maybe he could prove it to himself, that he could fight against them. “It’s been decades. After I met you, I stopped. It felt so wrong and I was sick of giving in. I was angry with who I was. But I figured-I figured if I was going to be damned forever, I might as well be damned for something.”

“¿Cómo pudiste decir eso? You’re not damned, Harry. You could never be damned.”

His chest--something aches and he’s not sure what it is, but the tears are slipping down his cheek. “Is that why? Did you know how much I hated it? Did you spare me to prove some point?”

“Would you have rathered me kill you? I could always do my job, Harry. I could always end this for you. But I didn’t kill you then because killing you would’ve done nothing productive. What would you have accomplished if you were dead? Wouldn’t have made it in music. Wouldn’t have gotten those degrees. Wouldn’t have founded that hospital. And look at it now, oh my goodness. Have you gone by that hospital lately? They’re on the cutting edge of new therapies for children with cancer. Tell me what the fuck would me have killing you done eighty years ago.”

“You wouldn’t, you wouldn’t kill me.”

“Harry, I would do a lot of things for you. But I made the call that you weren’t a threat because I saw you were scared-I always saw the hesitation, the way you were pleading with yourself not to give in. I saw that you just needed someone that understood you so that you could understand yourself. And if you’re telling me I made the wrong call, then know all I’d need in the word to make the right one.” Her nostrils are flared but she stands firmly in front him. Her eyes blink back the tears. “But I know I made the right call. I’ve done a lot of other things--killed people, taken their souls, been the middle man in a lot of fucked up shit, but I have never made the wrong call.”

All Harry can do is tug at her wrist and arm and pull her into his lap. He hides his face into her shoulder, knowing that the tears are rolling down her shoulder. How did she know all that? How could she have seen all the fear and pain? Harry’s not one to tell it all. He tells bits and pieces. He gives what he wants. But she was hearing it all, she was hearing what was unspoken. He was crying out for a second chance in life. He was trying to figure out what the silver linings of this eternal curse could be and Catalina had answered them.

“You made the right call,” Harry states.

What Catalina remains silent, brushing her fingers along his scalp, feeling him repeat, “You made the right call” into the flesh of her collarbone What she doesn’t let cross her lips is that he’s the only right call she’s made, the only one that felt like the right call even after the fact. The rest of them--they’re all the right calls in the moment but not always the right call in longevity. Harry’s been her only call that had longevity, that had a real reason not to call it and it was for good. Not for some assignment, not for someone else. It was her call and her call alone.

Truth be told, Harry might be the only call she gets to make that spares a soul, that keeps someone away from the gates of Hell. And she knows Harry’s never been able to fully accept what he is now, that he’ll always be hiding in the shadows as a vampire at least some of the time. But the thing Catalina’s always wanted to prove to Harry is that he’s always been good. Even when he thought he had been cursed, there was always good in that.

Just as the evening settles in, Harry pushes away from the desk. He settled in at the desk to do some more reading and some journaling. Though Catalina draped herself over his back until Harry allowed her to settle onto his lap. “While you’re gone tonight I’m going to go out for a little bit. You’ll take the room keys and everything and if I need to get in before you’re back, I’ll just go to the front desk,” Harry states.

“What about your trip for snacks before we head out for the night?”

“Do you want snacks?”

“Possibly.”

“Then we should go now. Besides I need a little less light before I can leave.”

“Hunting?” The only reason why Harry would want more of the night is to help cover his tracks. He’ll no doubt have to go a little far to catch any animal big enough to feed on. But it’s a lot easier to not hunt at night when the number of humans does drastically drop off.

“Have to stay strong with you around,” Harry teases.

“You’re not easy to keep up with either. But I like the challenge,” Catalina teases, before pushing off his lap and finding her spare phone and keys to the room. Harry pulls back on the jeans and slips into the sneakers. He takes the driving lead to the gas station, it’s only a couple minutes down the street.

“I’ll try to be back before you. Just in case you do need me to play doc.”

“I appreciate the concern,” Catalina returns pushing up her door. The display immediately in front of the door holds chips and sunflower seeds. Depending on how much of a fight it is night, cupcakes and honeybuns may not cut it. So Catalina grabs a bag off chips off the metal rack and takes in the setup. Towards the back is a display of refrigerated foods--mostly sandwiches but it’ll do.

It shouldn’t be this hard to pick out a sandwich but Catalina looks over the options and ponders if she’d be in a mood for ham or turkey. Harry spies her pause in browsing and walks over. “What’s on the menu?” he teases, sliping one arm around her waist.

“Don’t know. Should I go turkey?”

“I mean you can’t go wrong with--”

“Alright!” a voice booms. Harry and Catalina turn to the sound. The masks aren’t the most concerning thing. Both are visibly armed. In all that Harry anticipated, this would not have made the cut. They don’t seem initially aware of the people in the store. However, one woman, closer to the door than Harry or Catalina lets out a small whimper, the glass bottle in her hand smashing against the floor. It’s that moment that alerts the second guy to spin around, shouting at her to look at the ground and not move a muscle.

“Mierda,” Catalina says under her breath. Her instinct is to rush. But that’s risky, she doesn’t know if any of them is a good shot and if she rushes, Harry’s going to follow--thus exposing both of them.

“C’mon,” Harry exhales. He moves slowly from her waist and when his hand is firmly around her wrist.

“Backdoor?” Catalina questions.

“What?” It’s in his brief glance down that Harry can spy the wheels turning in her head already. “We always walk out the front.”

Catalina doesn’t miss the inclusion of ‘we’-- she couldn’t have missed it even if she wanted too. “We?”

Harry’s already glancing back to the store. One is focused on the teller and the other is still shouting at the poor woman that dropped the glass bottle. Harry steps in front of Catalina and guides her to head towards the rack of sweets and gum. “Rack,” is all he says before releasing her wrist. He turns back to the sandwich display case and Catalina nearly curses the heels on her boots.

If she can get behind the cover and make a ruckus on the opposite end of the store, she can at least split them up. Neither one of them wants a shot to be fired--if she takes it, her whole plan to get work done tonight is over and if Harry takes the bullet, it’ll look suspicious that it won’t do much damage. Catalina does her best to keep her heels from striking too hard and when she’s behind the cover of the gum, she notices a separate piece to the rack, holding up cotton candy and other hanging bags of candy. The rack is hooked to the main structure when catalina first pushes it as a test. But she spends a moment, steading herself and finding the spot it’s hooked into before pushing it up.

Once it releases, Catalina looks over to Harry. He’s not looking at her, instead now holding his hands up facing towards the door. She knows he can still hear. “Ready,” she whispers. She catches the small twitch of his index fingers before hoisting the bags and rack across the store.

The ruckus turns the second man’s attention to her. “Don’t look at me! Or I swear I’ll blow your brains out.”

Catalina can hear the start of a tussle, the grunts and exclamations of pain. She closes in, grabbing the barrel of the gun in her left hand. She ducks her upperbody off center and swipes at the guys wrist with her right hand. The guy yelps, releasing the gun. He ducks as Catalina pops back up. The gun’s aimed at him now and he huffs, holding his hands up. Her finger nearly settles onto the trigger, she nearly fires one round into his foot. It’d be so easy and it would for sure slow down him and his friend down if they tried to flee.

“Don’t.” Only one word from Harry--she hears it over her own labored breathing. “You gotta go.” Why would Harry tell her to leave but not include himself? Catalina starts to lower the gun, thumb just about to click the magazine to drop.

“Oh the bitch is on a leash,” the man teases though his hands are still raised in defense.

All it takes are about three pounds of pressure, not much more than the curl of her finger around the trigger to release a round. It echoes and is interrupted by the holler of the man falling to the ground, holding onto his shin.

Catalina swivels again and squeeze off around round. That one hits the man focused on Harry in the left shoulder. He drops the weapon and Harry takes the moment to kick it towards the back of the store. “You don’t listen too good,” he huffs, taking the weapon from her and dropping the magazine. It clatters to the ground and he racks it to release the one bullet in the chamber.

“I don’t kindly to being insulted. Pinche basura,” Catalina spits but steps over the howling man about his shin and finds the woman who’s curled in on herself. “Hey, hey, come with me.”

The tears tracks are obvious but the woman nods, shakily grabbing her purse from the floor. Catalina walks her to her car. “You did good back there. I know it’s scary,” Catalina starts, attempting to soothe her. Once the woman’s settled, Catalina waits, seeing Harry talk to the cashier. She knows Harry’s going to be pissed. But in her defense, the guy was a fucking asshole and deserved it.

It’s as Harry walks out of the station, tossing her the keys as he does so, that she notices a plastic bag in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Helped them out for the mess we made.”

“Technically, I made it.”

“I was going to give you a break.” Harry hands over the bag. “It’s a sandwich for after. In case you need it. Drop me off about two minutes up the road from here, but past the motel.”

Thankfully, Harry parked on the side of the station, not too far from the dumpster. But even if this car was caught on video, Harry’s deal with the cashier will make sure that the video won’t be seen. Catalina does as instructed, driving up past the motel and continuing on for another minute or two before Harry calls for her to stop. “How long?” he asks leaning against the door.

“Praying for no more than two hours. I gotta get there first. If they see me walk in, the thing’s blown. Bank for three.”

“More than enough time. Be safe.” Harry pats on the inside of the door before pushing away and zipping into the thick of the trees.

“Igualmente!” Catalina whispers, knowing he’s probably already too far away to hear. She turns around having to drive up into a random dirt path before peeling back down past the gas station and heading towards the casino she staked out for just a little bit this morning. Sure it’s ironic that her work would take her to a place like that, but she wasn’t going to be headed in for a regular. No, Catalina was headed in for the boss. Some debts can’t be consolidated or refinanced.

Parking across the street, Catalina cuts across the still lively street and stares up at the bright red neon sign. It blinks for a moment at her and then continues to hold steady. Catalina leaves her coat by the door, hung up by one of attendants. She’s going to be in here for a while. She cashes in her allotment for coins and chips. Her first perch of the night are the slot machines. There are only a few bouts of luck but Catalina never pushes them, instead keeping a sweeping eye over the floor.

He won’t be making an appearance just out of the blue. But the commotion, the sea of people that will move when the boss moves is all Catalina needs. She moves to a Black Jack table and thought that’s a dangerous move because it requires more attention, she knows she can’t linger on the outskirts all night. She throws a couple rounds but more than makes up for the losses.

She moves to the drinks table-only ordering a Sprite. It takes a few more rounds, going to different slot machines and playing one round of poker before she catches what she needs. The guards at the door are now more fidgety, glancing around the room more, talking into coms more frequently. Catalina pulls the lever on the machine, not even watching it for the images it lands on but instead sees the flock moving towards the stairs.

She leaves the winnings, bucket, and drink behind to start towards the bathroom. A little far from the stairs but a lot easier to work from than the middle of the casino floor. Ducking into the recessed area for the bathrooms, Catalina waits for a beat, hearing a voice echo, “Okay. Moving back up.”

Catalina slips from the door, just in enough time to see the huddle moving up the stairs and the others walking to the casino floor. She slips into step behind the mass moving upwards. She could get caught here, she knows but it really won’t matter. She’s close enough anyway. As the whole group lands on the second floor, Catalina keeps up against the wall, using the shadows for just a little bit longer.

“We haven’t seen any strange movement, sir.” A soft voice reports. “Everyone’s on alert just like you asked for.”

“I can feel her,” comes the reply.

Catalina almost laughs. But she knows that feeling the way the whole stomach feels like leads, the way you almost wish you could actually puke because everything is churning. “I’d say your gut’s still in good health then,” Catalina cuts, leaning against the wall, arms crossed in front of her.

The whole room turns in unison to face her and she grins, letting the tearing sensation burn through her skin. The way her teeth elongate and hands shift into claws. There’s the heat too, the way her whole body warms. It’s the transformation that does most of the work. The fear of seeing some random human body expand into the terrifying stature of a hunter.

“Dominic, your time has come,” Catalina growls. Her voice is a snarl and though she’s not overly exceeding in stature over any one. Her demonic state on Earth can only really reach about seven feet tall--it’s still not a pretty sight. The way things ooze.

A couple of brave guards rush forward. It only takes a heavy swat to send them flying. They clatter into the walls and glass, the sound of it shattering and hitting the floor sounds like rain almost. Catalina pushes forward, shoving more guards out of the way. They don’t go quietly, a few firing off shots. In this state, she’s a bit more protected but still not fully going to escape the realm of suffering injury.

It doesn’t slow her stalk. Dominic pushes more and more guards between them but they too are swiftly pushed out of the way. “You knew your time was up long ago,” Catalina teases. “You can run. But you can never hide.”

“I don’t deserve this!” is the outcry.

With a quick outstretch, Catalina swipes at Dominic’s back on his attempt to run away. He falls, a loud shriek leaving his throat. Catalina steps over him and hooks her fist into the back of his shirt lifting him up. His feet dangle above the ground. “Pathetic,” Catalina scoffs. “You do know your brother gave up everything for you.”

The heat of Catalina’s touch is searing his skin and Dominic whimpers in pain. But he doesn’t respond to the taunt. “You hear me?” she growls. “Your brother gave up everything for you!” She tosses him across the room and he falls into and through the door of some room. The thud of her feet echo as Catalina continues across. “And you don’t even hold up your end of the deal. Chance after chance you fucked it up.”

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry,” Dominic cries. “Just give me one more chance.” The blood is evident, scrapes along his arm and face.

“Chances have run out.” Hauling him up by the collar of his shirt, Catalina pauses for a moment. Her lips move, barely exhaling out the chant as the floor beneath starts to glow. It opens and both of them fall and fall. And even though Catalina’s done this a thousand times over, she’s still not quite used to it.

At the feet of the throne, Catalina allows herself to fully assume, the skin blistering a bit and growing taller. Her claws become more prominent and the flames licking at her skin start to recess in pain. She knows soon her own skin will jump with flames, her own body will start to mimic the world she’s in. Dominic screams at her feet, slapping at his own skin to quell the pain. “Oh, none of that,” she laughs. “You could always try some ice.”

Two guards approach her, shackles already clinking in their grasp. She holds up a hand to stop them. Hear and now in her true form, Catalina’s able to grab Dominic like a child grabs a doll right around the torso. The sound of skin searing is clear. “I’d say you’d finally get to show your brother the pathetic man you’ve become--but even if he were still with us, I don’t think he deserves that. Selling on the back end of your establishment, knowingly selling to mothers to be, running folks out of their rooms for gambling debts. It’s one thing to do that on your first try--it’s one thing to fuck up the then. But you knew, you knew the time was ticking on you and your brother beat you to Hell’s Gates. Do you know how he sounded begging for your mercy? Do you know the pleas?” She gives pause for an answer, one she knows Dominic can’t give but he was made aware of by the scrolls because she hand delivered them. “You don’t get to beg.”

With a single digit, Catalina presses it to Dominic’s mouth. The heat causes blisters and even though he screams, punches and kicks at her, Catalina holds for a moment longer before dropping him. His body hits hard and the guards finally step. She watches them take Dominic away, no doubt taking him to the holding chambers. And she lets herself stand a moment longer in the flames. Dominic won’t be dealt with for another week and though she should’ve taken more time, Catalina knows she must report back in.

“Impressive. I would’ve easily thought you’d play with him a little longer. Really sell the fear.”

It’s Lucifer behind her. “I need to keep my full three weeks on Earth.”

“Your jobs done, what do you need that time for?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it? The longer you keep me up there the more I can get done.”

“It’s that Harry fella isn’t it? I’ve been watching you.”

Catalina scoffs. “When haven’t you?”

“I still think you should’ve pulled his plug when you had that chance. Vampires are soulless creatures.”

“So what the hell does that make you?”

Lucifer laughs, patting her on the back. “Always good with the comebacks. Fine, fine, have your fun. I don’t really care.”

“But you care enough to watch me and know his name.”

“You say it’s the right call on him. I’m just making sure that assessment stays current--is all. Besides, it’s fun to have that over you. I know what makes you tick.”

Catalina knew the moment she decided to spare Harry it would be the thing that could always be loomed over her. He’ll always be the thing that makes her tick. Turning now, she faces Lucifer. “And you’ve seen me explode too.”

There’s a beat. A moment where Catalina stares at Lucifer and Lucifer stares at Catalina. He has seen her explode and it’s no pretty sight. And it’s not a threat, Lucifer knows that. He knows that Catalina doesn’t say a word she doesn’t mean. Exploding is a promise. Exploding is the sure fire way to Lucifer potentially staring back at his own head. He holds up his hands. “Look, it’s just making sure there are no threats. If they get exposed, all the other shit that goes bump in the night gets exposed. Enjoy the rest of your time.”

“Thank you.” Catalina continues on to the ports, finds a portal and lets herself go, climbs up and climbs and lets the bone fuse back together and shrink. It feels tight when she stands up. The skin feels tighter, her body feels heavier and she leans against the wall of the Burger King, grateful that the night is cool. Once she regains her balance, Catalina finds the car. She left the trunk unlocked and pops it open. She feels until she finds the small internal compartment and tugs. A spare set of keys sits inside just like she asked Carl to do. Spare keys in hand, she closes the trunk door, opens the driver side door and slips inside.

It takes another half hour just to feel like she could drive back to the motel. The transition back is always the hardest. Leaving Earth to go to Hell takes less energy than going from Hell back to Earth. She can’t hang out too much longer in this parking lot. So Catalina takes a breathe and starts the car.

Harry hears the knock on the door and places his book face down on the bed. Catalina had the key, not him. However, peering through the door he can see her, sans her jacket. “The hell happened to you?” he questions, holding her up by her waist.

“Went to Hell, came back and didn’t properly give myself time to adjust. I would’ve used the key,” she states, holding it up. She dropped that into the cup holder of the car before heading into the casino. “But it just took too much energy.”

“Didn’t eat the sandwich either?”

“What part of too much energy, did you not understand?”

“You’re impossible.”

“No, tú.” Harry laughs at the childish response but settles her onto the bed before, pulling her out of her shoes and taking the keys. “Stay there. Don’t move a muscle.”

The room door closes but a few moments later, it opens again and Harry rummages through the plastic bag she dropped into the passenger seat. "How much time do you think we have before we need to leave?”

“Safer to move now but a few hours tops.”

“And am I privy to know where we go next?”

Catalina shrugs. “Depends. You want to drive or not?”

“All your errands done?”

“All of them,” she returns, taking a small piece of the sandwich he extends out to her.

“Just us two for the next two weeks and some change?”

“Yeah. Just the two of us.”

There’s a bit of excitement that courses through Harry. It’s never really just been the two of them. Might this be the chance he’s wanted with her. Could this prove that they weren’t bad for each other? Harry hands her another piece of the sandwich, finding that she’s slowly coming back to her usual self. “But I got you into some terrible messes so I understand if you’re worried.”

“Everything here I have here I can sign over to myself and start new anywhere else. That doesn’t matter. Besides, it’s a little exhilarating to head into the action instead of watching from afar. We spend a week or so on the road, come back. Whatever mess is still happening we’ll sort out then. I know some people. I’m sure you know some people. Nothing to worry about.”

“You make it sound easier than it is,” Catalina replies. Harry can’t just go missing for a week and then turn up expecting everything to be fixed in a blink of the eye.

“You made it sound harder than it is,” Harry retorts, holding out the small pouch of fruit juice.

“Me llamaste imposible, pero tú eres imposible.” The rest of the mutter is cut off but the slurp of her drink but Harry catches onto the general gist of it--her general displeasure at his optimism. “Wherever you wanna go, for a week and then we come back and sort any mess out.”

Harry hands over the last bite of the snack he got and starts packing their bags. “We check out first thing in the morning. Only about four hours from now. You get the rest you need and we can plan where we want to go. Sounds like a plan?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

tagging @5-secondsofcolor

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #h writes #harry styles x black OC #harry styles x black reader #harry styles filth #vampire!harry #demon!oc #alternate universe #harry styles AU

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soldouthaz · 3 years

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hi!!! love your blog! i don't know if you're taking fic rec requests right now, but if you are, do you have any fics with subspace and aftercare that's written and not just referenced? it's my favorite part of smut but not written nearly enough :// anyways tysm for everything you do/write for this fandom!

hi!!!! okay okay so this is probably my all time absolute favorite things in fic so I'm so happy you asked! unfortunately it’s not something that’s often covered in depth, but I'll try to rec you some of my faves!

as always, I'll mark the specifications next to the titles so feel free to just pay attention to the ones that suit your interests and disregard the others! also due to the general nature of subspace/aftercare, please be sure to check the tags and warnings on each fic before reading! :)

something in the world today (e, 48k, b!L) by @crazyupsetter / whoknows

It shouldn’t be a surprise, the first time that Louis drops to his knees in front of Harry. It shouldn’t be, because it’s been something that Louis has needed for a long time. It shouldn’t be, because he’s been crawling out of his skin for weeks on end. It shouldn’t be, because Harry always makes him feel better. It shouldn’t be, because he’s needed this even when he didn’t know that he needed it.

Somehow, it still is.

when I need you, I need it quickly (e, 185k, b!L) by marvelous_things

the daddy!kink dom/sub au nobody asked for.

just breathe (e, 50k, b!H) by awriterwrites ; @comebackassholes (dimpled_halo)

the one where Harry and Louis are on a journey through life together — one that includes discovering dark, hidden parts of themselves that only the other can find.

take my whole life too (e, WIP, b!L) by @goodmorninglou

Louis knows three things, at the base of it all.

He likes when Harry hurts him. He doesn’t know why, not really, but he knows that he likes it. Likes giving up control, likes feeling small and taken care of, likes being praised for taking whatever Harry gives him for as long as he gives it.

He and Harry are meant to be. No matter what time they finally fall together, what day, what age, what place, the moment that they do, that’ll be it. It’s going to be them against everyone else, hand in hand for the rest of their lives. That’s been a given since they met. The half of Louis’ soul that’s missing is Harry’s.

And, sans those two things, he doesn’t really know much of anything at all.

just walk my way (e, 10k, b!L) by @softandslow (I just now read this one and - holy shit?? it’s so good (just like all of these but - wow))

Louis is a Victoria's Secret Angel and Harry is the main act of the night.

the spaces between us hold all our secrets (e, 56k, verse) by @ropewithnoanchor

Louis is struggling with panic attacks brought on by being closeted, and he realizes that subspace brings him peace like nothing else can. So Harry must step up to the plate and take control of his usually dominant boyfriend.

take me down (e, 13k, b!L)

Louis and Harry explore Daddy!kink and subspace

learn to let go (e, 4k, b!l, b!H mentions) by ashavahishta

Louis decides he wants Harry to try fisting him. It's not as simple as he thought. (Or, Louis and Harry experiment with getting Louis into subspace for the first time.)

give and take (e, 1k, b!L) by @captivekinqs

sometimes louis just needs.

you and I found love, lost under the shade (e, 4k, b!H) by @angelichl

The pain is a distraction. It pulls him to the present, forces him to think simply, drags him into the spaces between the letters of the word now. There's no time to think of anything else, anything other than the strange and dissonant mixture of pleasure and pain.

+ the peach series by the lovely @falsegoodnight touches on it!

+ if you read b!H, most of mercutionotromeo ‘s fics explore those topics as well!

+ a few of mine also touch on those, if you’re interested!

nothing worsens, nothing grows

what’s mine is yours to make your own

forgive the urgency, but hurry up and wait

ahh I hope this is enough to start you off! there’s a lot of these kinds of fics but very few that I feel like portray it or explore it in a realistic way. hopefully you’ll enjoy some of these!!!

happy reading, and I hope you’re doing well! <3

#my fic recs #fic recs #ask #favorite

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smol-and-trashy · 3 years

Text

Another JJBA vore fic? It’s more likely than you’d think (Vento Aureo)

A/N: I was going to write more, but died in the process. There might be another chapter after this... let’s see. Here’s some giorno vore because i hate myself ahah. It’s super OOC. GioGio’s canon fave food is chocolate and pudding sooooo….sorry for writing this. :)

___________

Guido Mista was a man who preferred to live life stress-free. While betraying the mafioso boss wasn’t exactly the definition of living a peaceful life, when had his life since joining the Passione been totally easygoing? Ultimately, he trusted Bruno’s decision and followed suit.

However, waking up in the dark amidst a sea of stickiness was more than he bargained for. Mista tried shifting his arms, but with each bit of movement, the substance would get heavier. His thick brows furrowed; whatever he was trapped in looked like mud, but... he sniffed. It had a cloyingly sweet aroma to it, almost chocolatey. That didn’t make sense though, did that punk the boss sent have a Stand able to turn liquid into food and then use it to trap their opponents? He couldn’t recall. Normally, he would prefer to not think of such troubles, deeming them as unnecessary worries, but being alone in strange terrain can do a number to a person’s mental state.

From what he could remember of the fight, the man they fought had some kind of defensive Stand. It shot some sort of unscented gas in his face before proceeding to punch him each time he tried getting near. He must’ve been off that day because even his Sex Pistols kept missing the man, he tried redirecting them, but they landed in various areas, everywhere but his target. Narancia was having the same problem, which made Mista begin to believe that this man had some kind of bullet defensive Stand instead. The only people who were able to get a solid hit on the user were Buccellati and Giorno. Though, for the life of him, he couldn’t remember who made the final blow. Was I knocked out? Mista remembered bleeding from his head and shoulders but never actually slipping unconsciousness. Shit, he must’ve been more formidable than I thought! Least we got him though!

However, when Mista attempted to reach a hand to check if he were still bleeding or to at least wipe the crusted blood off, he found himself still unable to move his arms. They were submerged in the depths of the chocolate mud, he tried to at least wriggle his fingers, but the substance was unyielding.

“Yo! Buccellati? Narancia? Giorno? Trish? Anybody?” he tried shouting but received no response. If he listened carefully, he could hear muffled voices around him, but no one was actively trying to break open his prison. Maybe they’re working on it? Or maybe I’ve been captured, and it’s one of the boss’ men around me? C’mon guys, where are you?

Suddenly, something metallic came from the sky and ripped the dark ceiling off. Mista’s heart jumped to his throat at the sight of a gigantic white-clothed table with various dishes surrounding his now broken prison. He could hear something shuffle from far above, and Mista looked up, way up, obsidian eyes comically widening as he caught a glimpse of a familiar pink suit and golden hair: everything began to click.

Above was Giorno Giovanna, under ordinary circumstances, he would’ve welcomed the sight of his friend, but the young blond before him appeared to be reaching monstrous heights.

His breath hitched as the metal spoon came closer, slowly digging near his shrunken body. How he wanted to maintain his cool, pretend like he wasn’t in any danger, and that Giorno would notice him with ease, but even for him, that was unrealistic. The teen’s sea blue eyes glazed over him, focusing more on a conversation from above than his dessert. Mista’s stomach turned, for someone as overly cautious as Giorno, especially after betraying the boss, he had to let his guard down at the worst possible moment. Mista couldn’t help but to let out a bitter bark of laughter, he could always count on his stroke of luck to get him into the strangest situations.

“Oi Giorno! Look down!” While his hands were glued to his sides from the thickness of the pudding, he still had his voice. However, Giorno showed no indication of hearing him, not even taking a moment to look down as he took another truck-sized scoop of the pudding, thankfully missing Mista.

“Watch it! This isn’t funny, man!” he snapped, desperation swirling with fear while his heart thrummed against his chest. How Giorno couldn’t see his blue hat contrasting with the creamy brown of the pudding was beyond him.

“C’mon Giorno, please look down! I don’t wanna die!”

He received no response from above, only the spoon coming back down. This time catching Mista and dragging the terrified gunslinger above. Time slowed down as Mista was brought up, moving past the teenager’s partially open chest and finally halting in front of slightly parted lips.

Mista prayed that one of the other team Buccellati members could see his pathetic wriggles on Giorno’s spoon. Both Buccellati and Giorno had always been absurdly perceptive; they had to notice that Mista was amiss. Even though the latter was about to unintentionally kill him, they had to notice something was off!

While he couldn’t see much beyond the oversized blond and globs of pudding, his prayers were answered from a deep, familiar voice nearby:

“Has anyone seen Mista?” Bruno inquired, and Mista thanked God, finally someone had noticed his absence!

“Oh! He’s still passed out on the couch like a baby!” Narancia interjected.

“In the turtle?”

“Yeah—!”

There was a long pause, and Giorno thankfully lowered the spoon back down. Mista assumed one of them was peering inside the turtle’s pocket dimension.

“Oh, it does look like he’s sleeping there. Giorno, you weren’t able to heal all of his wounds?”

“He was badly beaten, he should be fully recovered in about an hour.” Giorno sounded apologetic, while the tiny brunette was about to have another panic attack.

What?! How could he be inside the turtle when he was clearly stuck in Giorno's pudding?

The spoon shifted and rose up again, Mista’s blood froze. He was really going to die, and no one would notice he was gone. While he would be stewing away inside Giorno, they would believe he was healing from the previous fight. How could this happen?

Unwittingly trapped in his increasingly negative thoughts, Mista didn’t even notice he was already pressed up to Giorno's lips. His eyes shot wide, cruelly brought back to his unfortunate reality. Before he could even utter a scream, he was promptly shoved inside the humid maw, darkness flooding his vision.

As the light closed in, framed by rows of teeth and strings of saliva, Mista felt his stomach turn over. The sopping, crowded cavern of Giorno’s mouth was an experience Mista would rather die than relive. He was tossed and thrown about inside the stuffy mouth; trying to avoid sharp teeth from chewing him to bits but it seemed like the more he tried to struggle, the more soaked in saliva he got. Eech, this is so freaking disgusting!

The tongue beneath him shifted and threw Mista towards the back of the throat along with the rest of the chewed-up muck. With a simple flick of the tongue, Mista was sucked down the crushing throat.

He felt like a tube of toothpaste, squeezed until there was nothing left in him. The powerful muscles of Giorno’s esophagus were relentlessly crushing his tiny form. There was no room to squirm, so his cheeks were squished to the slimy, contracting walls. As Mista descended further down into the teen’s chest, he could hear a heavy, even heartbeat causing thumping vibrations all around him like an internal bass.

For what seemed like hours, Mista was slowly descending down the tight gullet. He could hear the groans and grumbles of the acid pit below, and as he was about to let out a yell in retaliation, he found himself released from the suffocating constraints of the esophagus.

Mista struggled in mid-air, one hand grasped on his hat while the other flailing about before dropping into a dark sea of stomach juices and masticated mush. Not taking a second to process his new environment, Mista swam to the nearest wall, banging and pleading to be released. The hot juices splashed at his bare midriff, while the walls constricted around him, unsure what exactly to do with him. He was thrown to the other side of the stomach, gasping for air, clean air, as he clawed onto the nearest wall, trying to maintain some balance, but failing as the stomach lurched unexpectedly and he fell face-first into the juices.

“C’mon man!” he cries out, hoisting himself up and unsuccessfully trying to wipe off the gastric juices.

Mista sharply inhales, the creeping feeling of disgust cried under his skin, but he shoved it down; there had to be a way to get Giorno’s attention. He was not going to go down like this.

Dark eyes nervously avert to his gun, his hands waver over the weapon. He didn’t want it to come down like this, but if there was no release in sight, and Giorno still had no idea where he was—what if he doesn’t realize by the time I become a pile of bones? Swallowing heavily and raising his gun, he takes a deep breath and finally pulls the trigger. Sorry, Giorno.

“Sex Pistols!”

—-

Pressing a hand to his flat stomach, Giorno paused, trying not to let his anxieties spike. If there were Stands who could spread viruses, produce mirror worlds, or even shrink themselves and others, surely there was a possibility that someone’s Stand may have infiltrated his own body. Giorno’s lips curled in revulsion. Activating Golden Experience, he tested for another soul. He knew the rest of the team were now shooting him perplexing looks and whispers at the notion of him bringing out his Stand, but right now, he didn’t care, he had to focus. Sure enough, he detected another life inside him. Giorno swallowed hard, trying to contain both his fear and anger into a mask of passive indifference. Useless, how could I let my guard down? It was an extreme invasion of his privacy and he wanted nothing more but to get this thing out as soon as possible. Now, it was more a matter on how to go about removing the Stand. He knew nothing about it other than it was currently inside him and wreaking havoc on his insides. Giorno had no idea if it was planting any explosives or plotting mind control from within.

He looked up, finally facing the confused, worried faces of his comrades.

“…Is everything okay, Giorno?” Buccellati finally broke the silence, calm, slightly concerned blue eyes stared into Giorno’s uneasy blues.

#JoJo vore #jjba vore #unaware pred #unwilling prey #soft vore #safe vore #vore writer #vore fanfic

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writing-the-end · 3 years

Text

LoL Chapter 30- Shadow Fox

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Doc, Zed, and Scar have made their way to the city of Foresta, deep in the forests where animals are going missing and the nightmares grow worse daily. Meeting with a local shepherd, they find allies in the most unusual ways.

____________________________________

“Oh, yeah, watch it with the Zhenniao, their spit burns like mad.” Zedaph crows as he

pets the soft white feathers of a Caladrius, the two having a conversation about their favorite seeds.

“Uh… is this thing supposed to have three legs?” Scar leaps back, narrowly avoiding the corvid. He laughs though, and preens the beast’s wing.

“Yep! Yatagarasu are born with two legs, but the third one grows when they learn to fly!” Zed sets the Caladrius back. As much as he loved the insightful debate he held with the bird, it’s not the kind of help they need. Besides, it would bring as much attention as an alicanto. “What about it, you three legged birdy? Want to join our team? Phoebe can teach you all the best ways to get letters to us- and the best places to peck at the hermits to get them to wake up.”

“I swear to god I don’t want to have to build another eye.” Doc sets the acid spitting bird down, and waits for Zedaph to respond. But the blond hermit was always having a thousand different conversations at once. On their way here, he had a whole horde of forest creatures following him.

The city of Foresta was open, patches of grass and trees older than the kingdom sprouting between houses and wide streets. Between the throngs of people, creatures of all shapes and sizes wandered down the dirt paths. Satori swing from the horns of a chimaera, leaping over the massive bodies that create the baku. Birds of all shapes, sizes, and different heads fly through the high canopy, fluttering to stop on the stone tower of the postal office. It’s here where the hermits are searching for another carrier bird. Poor Phoebe can’t do all the work herself, especially with so many hermits off hunting down reports.

And that was the other reason they were in the city of Flora and Fauna. Sent here to discover the whereabouts of missing familiars and family beasts. Carrier birds, farm beasts, even a family’s own cerberus have gone missing in the past few months. While Doc had his suspicions of their fate, Scar and Zedaph wanted to confirm his beliefs.

“Alright, so that’s two more feathery friends added to the family.” The Zhenniao jumps from Zed’s shoulder, pulling on a tassel of Scar’s outfit.

“I’m sure Grian will make fast friends with them, he already has Phoebe wrapped around his finger.” Scar chuckles, holding the bird close. “But what about the missing familiars? Did you get any information on who we could speak to?”

“Actually, yes. A very talkative pegasus told me that a few streets down is where a whole herd of shleep went berserk a few days back.”

Doc doesn’t waste another second. Marching down the street, eyes set on the direction Zedaph pointed. His gaze so intimidating, even a brigade of baccas part to stay out of his way. With one bird holding onto Zed’s hair, and another clasping Scar’s elongated ear, the other two give chase, Zed yelling turns to the marching beast that is Doc. He only halts in his tracks when he hears Zed yell “Stop! We’re here!”

Screeching to a halt, Doc is left standing in an open field, sunlight blazing on the bright grass. Dotted with white patches of flowers, the pasture is empty. Unlike the busy city, even the parks in Foresta, this moorland was empty.

Mostly empty. A young boy, laying beside a three headed sheepdog, is weaving dandelions into a flower crown. One for each head of his friend, and one for his own. Doc trains his mismatched eyes on the boy, and makes his presence known.

Unfortunately for Doc, his presence is impending at best, downright terrifying at worst. The boy opens his eyes, and squeaks like a mouse at the sight of the hermit. He curls up, hands raised. “Please, just take my money I don’t got anything else!”

“I’m not here to rob you.” Doc growls, rolling his eyes. Years of being a hardened criminal never really fades off his face. “Are you the shepherd?”

“I’m sorry the shleep have been acting up lately! I don’t know how to make the nightmares stop, they’re still alarmed from the attack the other night.” The cerberus nuzzles one head beneath the boy’s arms, while the other two growl at the intruders.

Until Zed steps up, a smile and a soft cooing voice turning one head from foe to friend. All it takes is one scratch of the ear, and he’s got the sheepdog wrapped around his finger. “That’s actually why we’re here. We came to help.”

The boy lifts his head, looking at the unusual troupe. Two innocent, smiling faces surround the hardlined scowl of the hybrid hermit. Scar nudges Doc in the stomach, and the puppeteer sits to his knees. Looking much less impending when he’s not towering over the shepherd. “We heard that some unusual things have been happening in Foresta. Familiars going missing, pets getting lost left and right. Do you know anything of what’s causing that?”

“What’s your name, kiddo?” Scar chuckles, plopping down next to the shepherd and beginning to weave his own flower crown.

“I-Isaac.” He twists a blade of grass in between his fingers. “I...yeah, yeah I’ve seen a lot of it happen. When you’re a shleep herder, you see all manner of things happen in the night. But no one believes the boy who cries chupacabra. Or bakunawa, or ‘oh gods the neighbor’s cactus cat is suddenly an ash monster’!”

“We’ll believe you. We came here just to hear those stories.” Scar chuckles. He looks over, and sees Doc’s expression start to soften, and the puppeteer reaches out to help Isaac finish the knot of his flower crown. Doc hates to admit it, but they all know he’s very good with kids. When he’s not being a hardass. “What have you seen?”

“I...I’ve seen these critters, sneaking through the streets at night. All kinds of critters, actually, but...different from the normal. They look like they’re falling apart, like a cherry tree’s bark.” He runs his hands over his arms, attempting to find flakes of his own skin as proof. “They scare the shleep every night, and disappear into the city. And then I see more, and more. They drag other critters out of their homes and barns, and turn them into more flake monsters.”

“Husks.” Doc whispers, his suspicions confirmed. Dark magic has even made it into the depths of the Evernight forest. But Isaac is hardly listening. Like any child, he has more story to tell.

“The other night, those flake critters went after my herd. A chupacabra. But...I thought they never went after shleep! Shleep aren’t tasty- I don’t think so, at least. They’re all cosmic wool and gristle.”

“Husks aren’t exactly looking for a tasty meal.” Zed whispers, “They’re looking for magic, and shleep are full of them.” He would know, he was once a shleep farmer when he was young. It’s how he honed his magic.

“They come every night, stealing more critters. Soon, all that will be left is shleep causing nightmares and those husky things.” Isaac shakes his head. “Foresta won’t be much fun without all the critters here.”

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo. Us hermits are here to stop it.” Scar announces, grinning and tossing his short brown locks of hair over his shoulder. Trying to look as heroic as he sounds.

The shepherd giggles. “Hermits? But you aren’t alone, you can’t be a hermit!”

“Ask Hypno why we’re named that.” Doc laughs as well, even though he knows the story full well, it’s still funny every time someone points it out. “Don’t worry, kid. By the time we’re done here, you’ll all be having sweet dreams again.”

“You’re the coolest bad guy ever.” Isaac whispers, and places the flower crown on Doc’s tangled mess of hair.

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

He refuses to take it off. Even as the sun falls and the city goes quiet, only nocturnal creatures lurking among the streets, he keeps his flower crown secure on his head. All three hermits watch the ruminants bleat and make their way around the town, cosmic wool spinning with stars and galaxies, entire worlds for their fur promising night rest. Wisps of the shleep’s fleece dance into the damp, warm air of Foresta. But it’s dancing in the air that the soft mist turns to harsh dust, slipping through open windows and under closed doors. Delivering nightmares to the people.

In the distance, Scar frowns at the sound of someone crying. Waking up from the bad dream. It’s not the poor shleep’s fault, they can’t control their own magic. They’re just sleep sheep, it’s the husks that have them all bothered. If the hermits can stop the husks, the shleep can be happy again and the entire city can finally get a good night’s rest.

Doc waves to Isaac, walking out with the last shleep from the pasture. Zedaph opens his eyes, blinking away the embers of magic. Oddly enough he feels the desire to chew grass now. The shleep are scared. Scared of the creatures that lurk in the dark, bodies lacking souls or even life. Just corpses- husks- forced to move by dark magic. One ram told Zed they were never afraid of the creatures of the night, their fellow nocturnal beasts, until that chupacabra turned on them.

Doc and Zed share a quiet conversation about the information they’ve gathered, and Scar lays back in the grass. Watching leaves shadow the sky above him, stars twinkling in the same way they glimmered on the shleep’s coat. The distant titter of dyads among the trees, the soft hoots from various birds in the post office sound like music to Scar’s ears, and he closes his eyes to bask in the quiet night. Hunting dark magic isn’t that bad, if it leads to quiet, serene moments as well as exciting action. He feels himself dozing off, figuring that Doc or Zed will keep an eye out for some creepy dark beast.

He’s alone. Sitting up in a dark alleyway, the sound of yelling echoing from his parents’ silk shop. Something warm pools on his cheek, burning along his very namesake, mixing with saltwater. Scar raises a hand to try and staunch the blood, and discovers his hand is covered in mud, adorned with gemstone rings of gold.

“You’re not a farm boy, Forest.” The words spit out in his father’s voice, but the lips that speak them are none other than the Magistrate’s. “Stop playing in dirt, this magic of yours is a disgrace as it is. You’re going to ruin the family image. And you’re clothes.”

“But I like my magic.” Scar whispers, turning his hand over. The mud changes color, dripping through his fingers into pools of blood.

“You should have let your magic wither away, or better yet- give it to me.” Dolios grabs Scar’s wrist, dragging him into darkness.

Dragging him from his nightmare. But while Dolios was a dream, something tugging on his wrist was very real. Scar leaps to his feet, retreating from the creature that is pulling his bag from his clutches. “Hey, no that’s my stuff! My snacks!”

Scar stumbles to his feet, kicking Doc on the way up. “What the hell Scar?”

He doesn’t look back, chasing after the black furred monster. As dark as a husk, with white glowing eyes and all. He can’t see the creature’s form, just the illumination of white light from it’s eyes, Scar’s purple bag swinging from it’s mouth. He needs to catch up, get his stuff back. Rather than scooting around a fallen tree, he makes the ground rise from beneath him, flinging him over with a much less graceful landing. “Get back here you little cretin!”

Behind Scar, Doc and Zedaph stumble through the forest. Tripping over roots and twisting their ankles in holes, they lose sight of the terraformer as moonlight is engulfed by the trees of the Evernight forest. The only light is the soft glow of bioluminescent mushrooms, moss, and leaves. At the interface between Foresta and the Evernight, the glow was indistinguishable. But Zed knows the deeper they go, the brighter the bioluminescence should get.

But it never brightens. He continues to get caught in roots, eyes never finding enough light to see where he’s going. A stone halts Zed’s forward momentum, and he tumbles to the ground. “How can Scar keep up such a pace?”

“Because he’s Scar, how does he do half the things he does?” Doc sighs, collapsing to his ass and looking around. The darkness of the forest is endless, leaves stitched together to be a roof that blocks out all light from the sky. He toes a mushroom, watching the fungi glow weakly. Shouldn’t it be brighter this far in?

“Oh, Doc, look!” Zed slaps Doc on the shoulder, harder than he realizes, pointing in the direction opposite of where Scar went running.

“What, I can’t see shit.” Doc growls.

“Perytons!” Zed crawls forward, light appearing under one arm. “They can help us, we just have to make friends with them! They’re very skittish cre-”

In one swift motion, Doc casts his magic. In one blink, he’s watching Zedaph crawl through the mossy floor, the next he’s grazing on a nearby tree branch. The Peryton gave almost no resistance, and now Doc can control the beast. See through it’s night-adjusted eyes. Lo and behold, Zedaph looks stupid no matter what eyes are watching him. Zedaph sits up, pouting. “Well that’s no fun.”

Doc can’t answer him, not while he’s in control of the Peryton. Stepping his hooved feet over Zedaph and fluttering iridescent green wings, he takes care of his own body standing still as a stone. One eye remains glassy, as if looking through a lens, but the red oculus of his other eye has disappeared completely. He can see the glow in the metal of his arm emanating from the deer creature, as he picks up his body with his rack of antlers and places it on his feathery back.

By the time Doc has cared for his vulnerable physical form, Zedaph has cast his own spell. Such similar results, but completely different magic. Zedaph shepherded the mind of the creature into helping him- Doc just took full control. Either way, the two are able to follow the direction that Scar disappeared. Deeper into the forest, away from the city.

Zedaph notices that the bioluminescent of the Evernight Forest is missing, no matter how deep they go. The darkness remains, clinging to the branches and bark like a tapestry slung across the forest. He’s not even sure where Scar could be at this point- this wilderness expands on for thousands of hectares.

Until he hears the spluttering mix of a laugh and a whimper, the noise so uniquely Scar that both Doc and Zed turn in the direction it arose from. Even through the eyes of the Peryton, it becomes almost impossible to see around them, darkness consuming everything around them.

Because that’s what it is. Returning to his own body, Doc stumbles to his feet and rushes to light up a torch. A few paces ahead of him, Sca has trapped himself in a bramble bush, a tiny shadow fox dangling his bag just barely out of his reach. “Come on little guy, I’m sorry I mistook you for a husk. You’re cute, I promise! It’s just with your eyes and coat, you looked like a darkness monster.”

“Need some help, or have you learned from Zed?” Doc snickers, pulling Scar from his thorny trap by the collar. The shadow fox chirps, ears turning to the side in joyful mischief. It approaches the hermits, dropping Scar’s bag at his feet. Glowing eyes, bright as sunshine, cast the shadow that creates the fox’s body. Zedaph can’t help but reach down to pet the shadow creature either way.

“She guided us here. To...this.” Scar whispers, feeling the tension on his body already. The weight in his lungs, watching the light from the fox’s eyes and Doc’s torch be consumed by the black cluster of crystal.

“This is what’s making the husks in Foresta. Just like in Gildara, it’s draining the forest.” All of the light, Limal’s creation with the goddess of death, vanishing as Dolios’s thirst for power drains the forest of life. Doc shakes his head. “We can’t let it continue. Scar, why don’t you…”

Scar is gone again. Disappeared from between Zed and Doc, though not as far gone as before. Just a short distance away. Being attacked by another creature. This one, however, isn’t aiming for Scar’s bag like the thieving fox.

It’s aiming for his throat, naked tail and matted fur thrashing and foam snarling from scraggly teeth. But unlike the shadow fox, the monster’s body is flaking and breaking apart with each movement, tufts of fur turning to smoke and ash. Zedaph sighs, more tired than before. “Great, now we got a ROUS to deal with as well as a creepy crystal.”

“Massive rat first, please!” Scar cries, snapping his boots up and digging the spurs into the massive beast’s stomach. He rolls away, gnarled roots and dirt barricading him and the ROUS.

Doc and Zed look at each other, then the ROUS before them, the darkness-crazed animal clawing through the barrier. It has a taste of Scar’s flesh, and he tastes sweet. Alive. Neither of their magic can work. There’s no soul to shepherd. Dark magic is already controlling the ROUS. They have to resort to another method.

A much more combative, cutthroat method. One that Doc knows well. Grabbing the bone handle of his knife, dark metal and nicked, toothed edges of kaber blade pulling free of old leather. “Scar, can you try to pin it down?”

“I'll add it to the list.” A startled squeak harmonizes with the viscous growl. The muzzle of the ROUS reels back, spittle glistening and falling from ivory white blades, and snaps. Scar rolls out of the way and slams his hands down on the ground once he’s been freed. The dirt erodes into sand and water, a pit of quicksand opening it’s maw beneath their feet. Scar scrabbles backwards, the mud water attempting to pull him in as well, gasping for air. With another wave of his hand, the ground resolidifies. The naked hands and feet of the enormous rodent are trapped in solid ground.

Doc wastes no time. Freeing the body of the ROUS from the claws of darkness, his blade cuts through the empty body like he’s cutting fabric. The darkened for withers away into dust, and Zedaph kicks it away from the pile for good measure.

The three boys sit on the silent, blighted forest floor. Ignoring the angry crystal, or the darkness consuming around them. Scar is panting like he ran a mile, Zedaph petting the soft shade ears of the fox that led them there, and Doc twirling his own knife. They just need a moment, a second to recollect themselves. Doc looks at his blade, forged in False’s fires. No matter what, no matter how strong a mage can be, sometimes they have to resort to the same tools as every other person. “Alright, enough sitting down. Let's put this crystal to ruin and let Isaac and his shleep finally get some peace.”

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