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prophecy-is-inevitable · 4 years

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On the Eve of November

Outpost!Michael x Demon! Fem Reader Oneshot

Halloween night marks Michael’s final victory over the witches, and his father sends you--a Prince of Hell--to offer your congratulations to his son.

Warnings: Smut...this is really just smut. Language, Some Blasphemy, maybe a little fighting for dominance, Scratching (let me know if I need to add anything!)

Word Count: 5k (WHOOPS)

Outpost!Michael won the poll, so here is the Halloween oneshot I promised! I hope you all enjoy, and have a great Halloween! (Bonus points to you if you know which Prince you are before the end.)

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The fires and candle flames of Outpost 3 flickered into nonexistence and threw the empty hallways into shadow. The tendrils of smoke rising from the wicks and embers funneled to one concentrated spot and blotted out any remaining light. As soon as your form finished materializing, your nose crunched at the acrid smell of vomit and blood. Heels clicked on along the floor as you wove your way around the room and past the array of bloodied, decapitated, or smoldering bodies around your feet. You hiked up the burnt, ragged edges of your long skirt to avoid the mess. It was one thing to cause such carnage, and it was another thing entirely to wear it.

“What the fuck, Michael,” your groaned. Your pace quickened as you hunted for the man. It wasn’t hard--just follow the bodies. Candles and fires relit upon your approach to light your way through the complex. It looked like absolute chaos. Large bullet holes littered the once perfectly polished wood walls, and blood and organs had exploded over the stairs. It was a lovely tomb, far too generous for these failed humans, you thought. You quirked an eyebrow at the body of a woman laying on the floor missing her heart. At least he was keeping his energy up with all of this. You rounded a corner to see him standing in the hallway with his back to you and his elegant clothes in tatters. His shoulders were tensed and he pulsed with the energy prepared for a fight.

He whipped around and extended a hand towards you, intending to launch you against the wall, and you deflected the attack with a dismissive wave of your hand. His crystalline eyes widened a fraction as his lips curled into a silent snarl. You tilted your head to the side with an incredulous furrow of your brows and a soft smile at his reaction.

“Really, Michael?” He stood straighter at the sight of you, his eyes searching you from head to toe, and you sway carefully over to him as if approaching a caged lion. His eyes held the same predatory, calculating, coldness on that beautifully chiseled face.

“You.” He spit the word as if it’s the same poison on his tongue he’d used to kill the inhabitants. Your eyes widened in a gesture of mock hurt, and you placed an ornately armored hand to your chest, each piece of clawed armor on your fingers clinking together.

“Me? Here I thought you’d be happy to see me. I’m happy to see you.” You pouted when reaching your other silver clawed hand out to wipe some of the blood from his cheek. He gripped your wrist in a vice with his rings digging into the broken shackle around the delicate joint.

“Why are you here?” Your pout melted into a smooth, seductive smirk. He still towered over you, and you looked into his turquoise eyes from under your lashes.

“Daddy might not always answer you, precious, but he’s always listening.” Feigning boredom, you began to run one metal nail under the other. He practically growled at the pet name and you chuckled. “After a pathetic fiasco in 1984, he decided to take a more passive roll with summons and rituals. Otherwise, people would never shut the fuck up with their pathetic begging. ‘Save me this’ and ‘help me’ that. That’s what God is for, you wretches.” Your eyes narrowed up as him, and you reached out to try and straighten his shirt and salvage whatever was left of his style. The bloodstained velvet of his dinner jacket had somehow managed to retain the smooth and luxurious texture, and the heat of his body kept the fabric warm beneath your fingers. The richness of the material suited him. “Since the apocalypse, I haven’t been very busy, and--as a mere prince--I have to do what your daddy says,” you shrugged, running your hands down his lapels. “Consider me a sort of...answering service. Though you seem to have everything well in hand. How about that!” Your head tilted once again with a coy smile.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Michael said through gritted teeth. His lips are pursed tightly in his annoyance, and the air grew stagnant in the hallway around you both. Michael took a step closer until you were nearly breathing on his chest. “Answer me. Now.” His voice rose marginally, and it’s just enough to echo through the vacant halls.

“Oh, listen to you! Making demands of an Archdemon and a Prince of Hell! My, how you’ve--” Michael’s hand quickly grasped your throat and squeezed. What he anticipated causing you pain earned him a moan instead as your eyes slipped closed. You could feel his grip falter momentarily in his confusion before it grew more intense. You gasped and released a breathless chuckle. His gaze searched your face, you could feel his eyes taking in every aspect of your lustful expression. Suddenly, his hand released you, and he took a few steps back with a tight smirk.

“That is exactly why you’re here, isn’t it?” He watched you with a side glance as you adjusted the chandelier choker at your neck and shoulders.

“Whatever do you mean?” Your eyelashes fluttered with an ill-suited expression of innocence. Michael’s eyes travelled down to the deep v of your dress that plunged to the top of your navel. The dark laughter bubbled from low in his chest and reverberated in the halls as he tipped his head back. It had you absolutely throbbing with need and was fucking embarrassing. Then again, this was Satan’s son, the highest Crowned Prince of Hell, created to be every idea of perfection and desire there could be. From the shimmering strands of golden silk draping his shoulder, to his slender perfect nose, to those mesmerizing oasis eyes set within the dunes of his elegant cheekbones… You couldn’t have designed him more perfectly yourself, and you had a lot of ideas thanks to your reign.

Michael ran his tongue along his upper teeth and continued to smirk at you. He tilted his head inquisitively, and you mimicked him playfully. The timber of his voice had dropped to a dangerously seductive tone filled with confidence when he spoke again.

“I have won.”

“A very astute observation, Michael.” Slowly, he sauntered back to you and ran one ringed finger along your cheek and down your jaw.

“I have won. I’ve done everything he asked. Cordelia let her successor die before she could complete her plan.” Michael extended his arms out from his sides, a prideful smirk stretching across his lip, and he cocked his head to the side. “There is no one left to stop me.” The warmth of Michael’s hand rested on a bare section of your clavicle as he looked over your body once again. His smirk grew and he inhaled deeply through his nose.

“Now, I’m receiving my reward. Father sent you, did he not? One of his princes, here to please me in the hour of my greatest victory, and on our night no less. The night before your powers are at their strongest, if I’m not mistaken.” Michael leaned his head down and his breath ghosted across your cheek as he spoke softly. You could feel his lips only a hair’s breadth away from the shell of your ear.

His words should not have caused the goosebumps that prickled across your arms and chest, nor should it have caused the slight weakness in your knees. You had been around for millennia. You had 72 legions of demons under your command, dammit! How dare--

Michael’s lips brushed along your neck above the elaborate jewelry veiling your soft skin. He knew exactly what effect he had on. The hierarchy of demons granted him the ability to toy with you just as he did with humans despite your ancient status. And he played you like a child with their favorite old toy. Michael’s hands gripped your hips tightly and, with a violent jerk, he tugged you flush against him.

You didn’t even want to fight him. You wanted him to have his moment and embrace his victory--embrace you. Despite the lack of necessity for breath, you found yourself panting against him in anticipation. The tip of his tongue traced up the tendon in your neck up to your jaw. The mewl that slipped from between your lips was almost embarrassing and made worse by his syrupy chuckle that you could feel against your chest. You were positively dripping, and there was no doubt that he knew.

“Hell has sent its greatest whore to pleasure me, I see. What, was Lilith too busy today?” His verbal jab made your eyes narrow dangerously. That succubus had nothing on you, and you would prove it. Renewed vigor flowed through you as your hands gripped his jacket tightly; the sharp metal claws tipping your fingers scratched and tore into the thick, expensive fabric adorning his chest.

“I’m going to make it so that you don't even remember her name. From now on, whenever your cock gets hard, you’re going to think of me,” you purred into his ear as you stood on your toes. Using the purchase you had on his clothing, you dragged his mouth to yours and moaned at the sweet and smoky taste of his sultry full lips. Michael's body radiated power and the heat of the inferno from which he was born, and it drew you in like a moth to a roaring bonfire.

Michael’s hands clenched into fist at your waist, and you heard the sharp inhale through his nose when you ran your tongue along the curve of his lips. It was your turn to chuckle. Dominion over lust had not been granted to you without reason, and you’d had centuries of playing with mortals and lesser demons to perfect your...talents. You weren’t entirely helpless against the superiority of the Antichrist. The feeling of his rigid length pressed firmly against your stomach proved that.

Within seconds the power shifted, and he had you against the wall. His dull nails sank into the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs when he bunched up your skirts and held your legs apart around his waist. The touch was scalding. You could feel the crescent marks burning into your skin.

“Not making empty promises, are we?” Michael crooned, the tip of his nose dancing along yours. The smirk on his face was predatory when your lips parted with the expectation of another searing kiss. His wicked laughter caused a shiver that ran up your spine. “What makes you think you are worthy of me?”

With your heels locked behind his waist, you used the position to your advantage and flexed your legs to grind your hips together. As much as he talked shit, you knew he wanted this, but two could play his game. A light breath, akin to that of blowing out a candle, forced Michael off of you and against the opposite wall.

“If I’m so unworthy, I suppose I will simply show myself out.” You vanished in the blink of an eye, your playful chuckle bounding throughout the underground complex. Of course, you made it very easy for him to find you. All Michael needed to do was follow the trail of lit candles up to the room he had inhabited as his office while at Outpost 3. The growl he emitted upon opening the door and seeing you sitting so daintily on the spiral iron staircase made your eyes burn with unbridled lust.

Michael stalked over to you with a scowl on his face, golden hair billowing around his shoulders from the speed of his strides, and you parted your legs wantonly to welcome him between them. You had him eating out of the palm of your hand whether he would ever admit it or not. Michael was rough when he pulled your hips against his once more. Your metallic claws dragged down his torso and cut through his shirt and jacket to leave thin red marks on his otherwise unblemished skin. You could feel him twitch against you with his pants the only barrier standing between the two of you.

Both of your hands grasped onto the metal rails of the stairs when he sharply yanked your hips towards the edge of the stair. The last thing you expected was to see him dropping to his knees and burying his face between your legs. Your head tipped back against the stair above you with a strangled cry of surprise that quickly morphed into a long moan. Instantly, your hands sank into the satin curtains of hair around his head as his tongue made a long swipe over your folds. His movements were impatient when he forced your legs farther apart.

“Michael…” You could feel the smirk on his lips when he took your clit into his mouth and sucked. Hard. Your back arched against the stairs and your hands scrambled to grab onto his shoulder. It had been so long since someone had sought to pleasure you as much as themselves. He certainly didn’t get those manners from his father…

Michael’s teeth nipped at your sensitive nerves and you yelped, filling the room with your loud cries of pleasure. Soft sounds of tearing fabric filled your ears when you continued to clutch his shoulders so hard that his jacket ripped at the seams. The deeper he worked his tongue into your core, the brighter his celestial eyes burned. It made your chest heave as you stared at each other, waiting to see who would break first.

It was you.

Michael stumbled back when you pushed him away. His eyes flared black in his agitation, and you returned the obsidian gaze. Short strides carried you to him until your hands grasped his sculpted face and drew his lips back to yours. It was a dance of domination and desperation, your tongue swirling and battling against his while you both inhaled the growing heat and arousal of your flushed skin. At the same time, your steps urged him backwards until he dropped down into the chair behind the desk. Ah, victory. It looked so sweet when it came in the form of Michael man-spreading in a chair with mused hair, kiss-swollen lip, and a very obvious and impressive erection all courtesy of you. You knelt in front of him before he had the chance to move. He had done the same for you, and you weren’t so cold as to not return the favor.

Michael’s eyes watched you carefully. At first, his expression almost looked like boredom, but you could see the tension in his jaw and feel the way his abdominal muscles contracted beneath your fingers. You pursed your lips while deftly roaming your fingers over his belt.

“Take your jacket and shirt off, Michael.” It hardly covered him anymore anyway, but his eyes narrowed at your command. You sat back on your heels to look up at him. “Come on. Off with it.” Reluctantly, he undid the buttons and tossed both items away. The sight of his bare torso, stained here and there with flecks of blood, was so very enticing. You leaned forward, placing sloppy and open-mouthed kisses over his chest and down his stomach. The sight of his stomach heaving from your actions made you moan against his skin. His hips bucked into your hands when you cupped him through the material of his pants.

Teasingly, your fingers slowly caught the waistband of his pants. Your eyes shot up to his when you noticed the absence of anything else underneath. The smirk he gave you was pure mischief, and you licked your lips at the sight of his weeping tip. One of his ringed hands sank into your hair and urged you forward; you allowed it this time. The shape of him was perfect--something humans modelled their toys after. Oh, how eager you were to play. He truly had been crafted to perfection.

The tip of your tongue ran along the pulsing vein of his shaft, and his groan filled you with pride. Flicking your eyes up to his, you noticed that they were closed and his head was tipped back to let his hair cascade over his bare shoulders. The candlelight flickered on his skin and you could spot the beginnings of sweat beading on his chest. A quick flick of your tongue caught the beads of precome that tickled from the head of his cock. The hand in your hair tightened, but you gave him a warning glare with growl. This was not his time to take control.

One hand stroked the length of his shaft and the other gently scratched down his chest. Michael arched into your touch, and you hummed around his tip when your lips encircled him. The groan that fell from his lips was nothing short of obscene and it drove you on. He even sat up more to get a better view of your mouth swallowing down his cock. Your eyes locked with his and you smirked around him. The taste of his heated length alone made you moan. Trick or treat indeed.

Michael’s chest was heaving before you even reached the base. You held there for a moment and then began to bob your head. It was only moments until he bucked his hips upwards, shoving himself deeper down your throat, and tugged your head against his pelvis. Your nose is pressed to his skin and the musky, salty smell invades your senses. A guttural moan tore through the amber-lit room when hollowed your cheek to suck greedily at the head of his cock and your hands pumped the rest of his shaft. The way your core throbbed at the sound told you your body was more than ready to feel him inside of you. You stood without warning, and Michael instantly moved to follow. One of your heels on his chest pushed him harshly back into his chair.

“Stay.” Michael glared at you, but he did not repeat his effort to move. “Good boy,” you cooed. You didn’t miss the way his hands tightened on the arm of the chair. You removed your foot from him and took a step back. With your back to him, you reached back to undo the clasps of your dress. Clearly, he was far too impatient by that point, and a light snap of his fingers finished your work for you before it even began. The clothing covering you both disappeared, but you noticed that he left the vast amounts of jewelry on you, from the tips of your ears down to the gilded manacles on your feet.

“Let me see you.” The request fell from his lips much softer than you would have expected, and you complied easily. His eyes widened so subtly that you would have missed it had you not been watching him carefully. Azure eyes devoured your appearance. Your breasts were framed by the chandelier necklace hanging over your shoulders and dripping onyx beads down your sternum. Michael’s hands slowly rose, his eyes still roving over your figure.

"You may touch me," you allowed. At first, he only ran his fingers over the shimmering cuff on your upper arms. Then he trailed down to the broken jeweled shackles on your wrist that matched the pair around your ankles. He gently maneuvered your hands on his shoulder to lure you closer. It placed your chest at the same height as his lips. Greedily, his head leaned forward to take a hardened nipple between his lips. A sigh of relief escaped your own.

Michael continued the slow exploration of his hands. They moved back up your arms, over the collection of diamonds and midnight gemstones dangling across your shoulders, and down your sides to hold your hips. Each fingertip left a trail of raised skin in its wake. The simple touches made you shiver, and you let Michael see this time. His hands curled around your waist to pull you in closer, and you pushed your hands against his shoulders. He released your nipple with a wet “pop” and furrowed his brow.

Your movements were fluid and smooth when you pushed him back into the chair and straddled his hips. His erection stood proudly against his abdomen; you stroked him delicately, careful not to graze the sensitive skin too harshly with your armored fingers, and you returned your lips to his. The pillowly softness was something you had never encountered with your previous lovers. Michael could happily drown you in those full lips, drink you dry, or curse your name and you would beg for more. A combination of your movements gave you the room necessary to line him up with your core.

Sweet moans accompanied the simultaneous fall of both of your heads towards each other. His breath mingled with yours in the limited space between your lips. For moments the pair of you did nothing but breathe each other in and stroke your noses together in an almost tender fashion.

“Move,” Michael breathed tightly. The flex of his fingers into your hips made you bite your lip. Your lips lifted slowly at first, and then dropped quickly into his lap. “Fuck!” Your head dropped back again with a bark of a laugh. Hearing him curse from one simple movement had you clenching around him instantly. You repeated the motion, his fingers digging into your hips with a fiercer grip, and you moaned loudly.

Tinkling of your jewelry chimed in time with the steady rolling of your hips over Michael’s. Always one to enjoy an active role in his pleasure, Michael urged you to ride him harder using his hands on your hips. He pulled you down sharply, burying himself inside of you, and returned his mouth to your chest. His teeth caught a taut nipple and tugged. You rewarded him with a cry of ecstasy and carded your hands through his long hair. Every pulse of his cock inside of you stroked your walls with a delicious pressure and pulled you closer to the edge. You didn’t notice how much Michael was controlling your movements until he angled your hips forward on your downward thrust and made you cry out. You tightened around him and increased your pace to bounce off his lap. Soon, the chiming of jewels was drowned out by the clapping of your skin on his and your unified moans of each other’s names.

Michael abandoned your breasts for the time being and turned his attention to the droplet of sweat rolling down between them. His tongue caught the salty droplet, and he licked his way back up to your neck. You shuddered over him and pushed him back against the chair again. Things like that would have this over far sooner than you wanted. The smirk on his devilishly handsome face clued you in to just how pleased he was with himself. He could feel you trembling around him. You ran a jeweled nail over his lower lip and decided to tease him. Your hips rose slowly until only the tip of him remained inside of you. The descent back into his lap went just as methodically. Several times you repeated the motion, swirling your hips once he was fully sheathed inside of you again, and you grinned wickedly at the tortured groans you pulled from him.

He had been so good and so attentive thus far, so you decided to give him a break. He desired it hard and fast, just as you craved it. The chair protested beneath the forceful ricochet of your bodies colliding. You laughed breathlessly at the return of Michael’s lips to your skin. This time, he left open-mouthed kisses over the tops of your breasts and your neck.

Without warning, Michael propelled himself up and out of the chair to slam you down on the desk. His pace never faulted throughout the change of position. The lines of his face were set into a look of determination.

“You’ve had your turn. Now it’s mine,” he hissed in your ear. His hair framed his face and grazed your skin as he loomed over you. Rough hands gripped your thighs and shoved them apart. The first sharp thrust forced the air from your lungs. The sparkle in Michael’s eyes was unmistakable. He was in control now.

He targeted the depths inside of you that had caused you to cry out earlier, and he set a relentless pace. His lips burned across your stomach and chest as he explored every inch of your skin that he could want. Your hands found purchase on his back, the points of your nails sinking into the slick flesh around his shoulderblades. Michael growled and bit into your collarbone with a particularly rough thrust into you.

“Michael!” His name fell from your lips in the most sinful, sensual prayer. He breathed heavily in your ear now, drowning out the deep thudding of your back being drilled into the dark wood of the desk. “Michael…” You could feel his hips beginning to stutter in the bruising pace he had set. It must have felt good for him to be able to let go and not worry about the frailty of a human’s body beneath him. His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you into him again to achieve the depths his mind was screaming for him to reach.

One bite into the already bruised skin of your neck and a perfectly timed thrust was all it took to send you spiraling over the precipice of pleasure. Your legs latched behind his thighs to lock him against you. Every spasm that rippled your body amplified his pleasure, and you felt Michael spill himself into you with a strangled cry. His warm release inside of you made your head drop back against the desk with a thud. He buried his face into the crook of your neck to ride out the aftershocks of your combined orgasms.

“Happy Halloween, Michael,” you whispered with lips pressed to his ear.

Dampened skin held you together, and you lovingly stroked his hair back out of his face. It had been well worth the visit, you thought with a smile. Feather light kisses in your neck and jaw caught you by surprise. The kiss to your lips was slow, conveying a long-sought satisfaction, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulder. It was an ancient dance, the tangling of tongue and limbs, and usually accompanied by the same heady smell that surrounded you both in that moment. You decided that this was your favorite perfume--the smell of desire and sin, of sweat and carnality, all mixed with the intoxicating scent of Michael.

A gentle tap to his shoulder signalled for Michael to remove himself from you. He did so slowly, carefully, and with a slight grimace. Your back still arched with the sensation. You looked over his lean and picturesque form from your spot on the desk. Yes, you wouldn’t mind if this became a regular occurrence. He dressed languidly--all the time in the world stood waiting for him now. You followed suit when he retrieved your dress. Michael even offered to help with the clasps and buttons at your back. Of course, it wasn’t so simple. He dropped sensually slow and wet kisses over each inch of your spine Bedford doing up the respective button. The resounding boom of clocks striking midnight thundered through the halls. November 1st. Your eyes slipped shut at the returning power thrumming through your veins. It had only been fair to Michael to send you before your powers heightened to their prime. Now you would be able to return home.

“Do you really want to know why I’m here?” you asked over your shoulder. His hands paused in their task.

“It would be in your best interest to tell me the truth.” You rolled your eyes and turned to drape your forearms over his shoulder. His hands instinctively fell to hold your wasit, and it made you smile.

“Your father wished for me to bring you to him.” The expression that crossed his face was precious. Your smile grew at the pure disbelief and childish wonder. Your fingers picked up one long curl and twisted it around your fingers and then let it fall back against his shoulder.

“What?’

“I know! He’s proud of you. He knows how hard this has all been, and he wishes to congratulate you. In person.” You took a few steps towards the door, your hand clutching his and trying to pull him with you, but he was frozen where he stood, eyes unfocused. “Michael, come on!” you laughed softly, “We shouldn’t keep him waiting--not any more than we already have.” He looked to you then and gestured between the two of you.

“So what was this then?” You swayed your hips on your way to the door and twisted the handle with a coy little smile.

“Fun, wasn’t it?” You winked as you opened the door. The deserted halls of Outpost 3 were not on the other side. Michael’s eyes widened at the geysers of molten lava and the long polished bridge of obsidian leading to an ancient palace of equally dark stone set on the far side. “Welcome home, Prince Michael.” His arm slid around your waist while his eyes took in everything new around him.

“Thank you, Asmodeus. I suppose having a friend in the Prince of Lust could have its benefits.”

"Oh yes. Whenever you'd like."

#This was supposed to be a short #Happy Halloween Michael Langdon #Michael Langdon #Michael Langdon x Reader #Outpost Michael #Demon Reader #Michael Langdon Fanfiction #but I'm thinking about how I want to write Michael Langdon smut in my fic...#My Oneshots

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letsloveimagines · 4 years

Photo

Title: One kiss or your soul

Pairing: Modern AU! Ivar the Boneless x female!demon!reader

Prompt: Where Ivar decides to my a deal with a demon.

Word Count: 4520

Warnings: a little swearing, satanic rituals, mention of monsters and death

Note: The images doesn’t belong to me, all the credits go to the respective creators. I only made the collage. Also,the rituals were based on Supernatural.

♦⋅☆⋅♦

He tried to take a short walk that day, for the first time in months... His skin was now bone white, and Ivar knew he needed at least about ten minutes of vitamin D.

What he did not expect was the huge crowd that was on the street that blessed day; families gathered to talk animatedly, children playing with each other to discuss the disguises they would wear and all the sweets they would eat. The city appeared to be decorated with bats, cobwebs, scarecrows and zombies, lanterns and pumpkins. It was then, while he was surrounded by people everywhere and feeling his heart thundering, that he remembered it was October, Halloween more precisely, and the whole community was getting ready for the fun of that night.

The pain in his legs was already characteristic, his gait was sloppy and lame, and crutches were his longtime companions. But that never failed to attract attention as always, and that happened at that moment. The children who played looked at him laughing and pointing, talking to each other, the adults whispered and looked at him with pity.

Ivar hated pity.

And he hated even more how the attention of those shitty people made him feel, even though he was already used to it.

With a strong desire to vomit, feeling the sweat running down every corner of his body and trying to breathe, Ivar looked for any corner where he could take shelter. The small library across the street that seemed to be the only establishment without the festive theme appeared to be the best option. He was quick to cross the street - as fast as it was possible for him - to enter the establishment, greet the lady with the half-moon glasses behind the counter (who chewed blue bubblegum while filing her nails), and hid in the most distant place possible, among several decrepit shelves almost falling with the weight of dozens of books.

Ivar had sat on the floor, his back against the books and shelves, his head hidden in his arms and knees drawn up just trying to remember how to breathe. He was at the beginning of a panic attack, and being aware of it only made him even more distressed. He hated that it happened because of his useless legs and because of people he didn't care about. Why couldn't he have been born healthy like his brothers? The air did not seem to reach his lungs fast enough, leaving him almost choked and trembling all around, and with the world spinning around him over and over again.

It took a while, but it ended up after a few minutes of breathing exercises. The frustration remained, however, leaving him so enraged with himself and the world, that he punched the bookshelf behind him in an abrupt gesture. This hasty action caused so much noise that he was sure that the children across the street had been able to hear. In silence, swallowing hard and fearing he would be expelled to face the crowd outside, Ivar peered slightly at the librarian trying to see if she had heard it too. This one, however, had her back to him with the phone between her ear and shoulder, talking animatedly while continuing to take care of her nails, without paying attention to what was happening around her.

"No..." she exclaimed, certainly wanting to sound shocked, but looking completely delighted by what she had just heard. "Don't tell me that she really said that to you?"

More relieved, the boy leaned back against the bookshelf perhaps with more force than was necessary, as he immediately felt the wood behind him creak and the piece of furniture rocked from side to side. The dark-haired boy was quick to grab it, managing to keep it from tipping over, but not without a few books falling to the floor raising so much dust that it left his black pants almost gray. One of those books, due to fate, had not joined the others on the wooden floor eaten by the termites immediately, but had fallen on top of him, the hardcover hitting his head hard. Thankfully, the boy had been born with a head full of rich black hair capable of supporting the impact, or he could now have a bruise to take care of later.

Curiously, still rubbing his head with the free hand of his clutch, he looked at the cursed object. It was a book with a brown cover and black insignia and broken in the corners. In large and dark letters, in a font that looked like a victorian one he could read 'Monsters in the Darkness'. Interesting title, Ivar thought, quickly putting the other books on the shelf and flipping through the one that had caught his eye.

Looking at the watch on his phone that said it was still 2PM, and listening to the conversations outside, he thought why not.

He found himself a chair, shook off the dust with the back of his hand and began to read. The pages were turned quickly while Ivar, frowning, realized what the book was really about.

"What the fuck?" He asked in a low voice, amazed.

His hands held the book tightly, his eyes skimming over the yellowed and gnawed pages. Or maybe it was the mice, this place seems to be full of them, Ivar thought. It was true. That library was old, smelled of mold and looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. But that was a good thing, at least for him, because it meant it was almost always empty. Whoever wrote this must be on drugs.

But he still didn't stop.

The more he read the more confused he became. The names and notes changed as well as the images, but they were all on the same theme: dark creatures and reports of sightings. Vampires, werewolves, spirits... creatures with claws and fangs, ferocious and with the ability to kill as easily as breathing.

The younger Lothbrok was confused but immensely interested. He didn't believe any of that, but it helped to pass the time. The boy always liked scary things, but he liked the real ones better, and those creatures that the book addressed had no way of being real. However, he was unable to drop the book.

His fingerprints passed smoothly through the written words and the drawn figures, feeling the depth of the ink on the paper. The words registered in his mind quickly as he read page by page, practically devouring the book in what seemed to him mere minutes, but in fact it was already three hours straight sitting in a corner of the moldy library, with a weak lamp beside him illuminating his reading.

He read so much until his blue eyes got tired and he was forced to rest for a few minutes, and until he was at the end of the book. The last theme was demons, but as soon as he turned the page to continue reading, he found… nothing, just the back cover of the book indicating that it was over.

Strange, he thought absently. And that page was even stranger, a few millimeters thicker than the others... almost as if it were glued.

He should? Looking again at the librarian who, admirably, was still distracted on the phone after three hours, Ivar grabbed the knife he always carried with him, opened it and carefully took it to the paper, making a small cut. As he suspected, the previous page was actually many more, and Ivar was eager to find out what it was about and why those pages seemed to be a secret.

> Of all the inhuman creatures that walk the earth, demons are the most evil. They desire nothing more than death and destruction, and not out of desperation or need as is the case with vampires who need blood to survive ... Demons kill and torture simply because they want and can, because they love the pleasure that the chaos of humanity brings them. There are those who say that they were also mortal once, but that their souls were corrupted so perversely in the depths of hell that they ended up becoming what tortured them. Blood, pain and death are all that are left behind when they pass.

> They are faster, more beautiful and stronger than should be possible. They are attractive and charming, in a way that hypnotizes a human. But they are evil, above all. Demons are separated into different sections depending on their personal power, or at least that is what we think. They are able to make a deal with a mortal, give us what we want for a while, but take away something they want afterwards. They are deadly dangerous… She, above all.

Ivar didn't even realize he was reading aloud until his voice started to crack, and he had to clear his throat so much that it looked like his throat was scratched. He wanted water, but he didn't have it, and he was not going to stop reading his interesting book now to fetch it. Frowning, he looked back at the page.

> It is not really known who she is or when she was created. Some say that she is Lilith, the first demon known by men and the mother of monsters... Others say that she is even older and her real name is lost, or forgotten by those who fear her. Now, she is known as Y/N, and as her there is no equal. Dark and deadly, she is Lucifer's right hand. But she is the most qualified to make a deal with, if they are brave enough to do so, and if they have something she wants.

Deal? What kind of deal? Ivar asked himself, and at that moment his cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket. When he pulled it out and unlocked it, a message from Alfred appeared on the display.

Alfred: Hey man, are you sure you don't want to join a horror movie marathon? It was going to be fun.

Oh, Ivar had completely forgotten about that. Alfred had already invited him a few days ago, but the long-haired boy hadn't given him the right answer since he was working on one of the chapters in his new book. He made a point of ignoring his family's thousands of missed messages and calls, however.

Ivar: Nah bro, I still haven't finished the chapter and I have until Thursday to deliver. I will probably be busy working on it for the next few hours. Sorry…

That was what I had to do as soon as I got home. It didn't take long to receive an answer.

Alfred: There is no problem, but you will have to compensate me. The marathon is next Saturday, okay?

Ivar: Yeah, sounds good to me!

He received a "Cool" as an answer and returned the phone to his pocket.

> Generally summoning a demon requires several ingredients: a devil's trap, fire (white, black or red candles), bowl with red-hot charcoal, salt, summoner's blood and the summoning words.

Ivar then proceeded to read what the ritual was like, along with the necessary Latin words.

> However, it is not advisable to do this. Once a demon is summoned and on the human floor, they are freed from the restrictions of hell. There is nothing to stop them from doing what they want. And if you try to summon her... Well, may God have mercy on your soul.

And so the book ended, with a phrase that at that moment seemed so scary.

His throat was dry, his hands were shaking again and for some strange reason he felt the sweat on his forehead and neck, the fat drops escaping the hairline running down his neck and back.

Should I? He thought, confused, it's freaking stupid, I know.

Ivar was a man of science, he believed in the real facts. Yes, he liked scary stories and mythologies - after all, one of his books dealt with Norse mythology - but he didn't really believe in it. And everything in that accursed book that had fallen on his head addressed unreal things, fictional things... Monsters created by the human imagination, by humans who wanted to blame their own evil on creatures that could not exist.

He was already closing the book and getting up to replace it, when he stopped and looked at his left hand, opened his palm and saw the half-moon wounds he had done with his nails in one of his attacks of anger.

He sat down again, staring at the yellowed pages. The dark, sharp letters and monstrous figures, with horns and cat-like eyes were everything he could see... that and his hands, always injured.

The earlier panic attack came back to him, his mind working at full speed. Frustrated, he ran his hands through his dark hair making a mess of locks fall onto his forehead and into his eyes, and he felt like pulling out each one.

The librarian was still talking on the phone, the children outside were playing, but all Ivar could think about was how hard it had been to breathe, and how much the walls felt like they were going to close and crush him in that moment when he was curled up on the floor hours ago, with useless legs at his side and that characteristic pain.

Why couldn't he just be normal?

"Fuck it." He grunted then, tearing up the page that contained the details of the ritual while making sure he was not seen, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket. He closed the book, got up, grabbed his crutch and went to put the book in a random place on the shelf where it belonged.

Without further ado, he passed the librarian who looked at him strangely again, still in that conversation (what kind of work allowed her to be on the phone for hours with no end?), And left the place that had been his hiding place in the last hours.

It was night when he returned home. The full moon shone overhead, and the children and their companions were already spotted in all kinds of disguises ringing the bells and knocking on the doors.

Upon entering his practically empty apartment, with only the minimalist decor here and there, he placed the bag from the convenience store on the couch, and pushed it away. The feet of the couch squeaked as they were dragged across the wooden floor and left a prominent mark.

He turned on the TV on a random channel and turned the sound down, just to feel a presence and have a light to illuminate, and closed the curtains on the window that was always closed too. He would never again make the mistake of leaving it open, the last time that Mrs.Rose's cat on the third floor entered the house in search of food, and left a mess of scratched furniture and broken cushions.

Taking a deep breath he took the materials he bought, and prepared himself.

Even though Ivar didn't believe it was going to work, he was still willing to try it, at this point he was desperate… The prices of medicines were high, the hospital bills were even higher, and even with his writing career going well, he continued to lose hundreds of dollars a month. Ivar was too proud to join his father's company, contrary to what his brothers had done. He wanted a job that was his own, and guaranteed on his own merit and not because it was in the family.

And he wanted to go outside and not worry about people seeing him because of his disability and dragging legs... he wanted to be able to live, not just survive.

For once in his life Ivar wanted normalcy.

He opened the box of chalk, took the page he still had in his pocket, and with the red chalk he drew the pentagram shown on the paper on the floor. The lines were more crooked than they were supposed to, but it should be enough to work.

He took the black candles, placed one on each of the five ends of the star, and lit them with a lighter. Then he put the charcoal in a bowl, lit it and watched it burn for a while.

He took the knife in his pocket, took the sharp blade to the index finger of his left hand and pressed hard, breaking the skin. Ivar saw the red drops begin to fall into the bowl, the blood sizzling as it came in contact with the burning coal.

And then he did nothing more than take a deep breath for a few good minutes.

Before being too afraid to continue - he wasted too much time and energy to stop now - he spoke, pronouncing each word slowly and correctly, in a calm tone.

"Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati maea. Te invoco apro funus inferni, Y/N."

For a moment nothing happened it was just him there, in the middle of the living room, with a number of absurd things around him that if anyone saw him, he would be immediately sent to a hospital.

But suddenly he shivered. The floor shook, the walls shook, everything shook. TV and appliances, furniture, lamps, everything. The plates and glass bottles on the kitchen table rattled, toppled and broke into a thousand pieces as it fell to the floor. The windows seemed to want to open with the force of the wind outside that wanted to enter, whistling furiously. Ivar had to hold on to something when the earthquake suddenly got stronger.

And then…

The flames went out, leaving the wax to melt and hit the floor, he wasn't sure how he was going to explain it to the owner, the shaking stopped and the wind calmed down.

Ivar was left in darkness and silence, with blood dripping from his index finger to his pants, and breathing so fast that he had to open his mouth and inhale as deeply as his lungs could take to try to breathe.

Blood was pumping through his veins and hitting his ears, preventing him from hearing.

"You are such an idiot." The man said frustrated with himself. It was just an earthquake, which came just in time to almost make me believe. Later, when I turn on the TV, I’m going to see that all over the news.

He shook his head, and looked once again at the destruction in the kitchen and confusion in the living room. He was getting ready to go clean up the mess when the candles lit again - alone this time - they went up so high that they looked like they were going to reach the ceiling, beautiful dancers in red, orange, and yellow dresses. The firelight created strange shadows in every corner, tall and small, thin and wide.

And there, in the middle of the chalk-drawn pentagram, was a woman.

Ivar gasped in shock, stepping back several steps, almost falling into the sack of coal left there. The woman looked at him and he looked at the mysterious woman.

"Mortals." She almost spat, full of disdain. "Always so bold and wishing for more than they are due."

He didn't know what to say or how to react. He had hoped it would work but at the same time he didn't really expect it to actually work!

"So what do you want, human?" She said disinterestedly, looking at the chalk-drawn pentagram that held her in disgust.

"I want to make a deal."

"Oh really?" The way she spoke suggested that she thought the boy was stupid. "What is your name, mortal?"

"Ivar Lothbrok." He replied proudly, because as much as he hated his life, he could not hate his name.

"Cute." Y/N commented with an eyebrow raised in clear disdain. "Now tell me what you really want."

Ivar tried to swallow his anger, tried not to let it show on his face and mannerisms, but he couldn't. His eyes and jaw narrowed, his nostrils flared in fury, and his hands gripped the clutch so tightly that for a moment he was afraid to break it. "Look at me and tell me what you think I want!"

And she looked. She looked from head to toe, passing through his long dark hair, blue eyes and facial features, over his body and legs... those damn legs.

"I don't see anything too much."

If it were possible, Ivar would now be smoking his ears. The veins in his neck swelled and bulged, and his cheeks flushed with anger.

“All my life I have always been different from everyone else. If we still lived in ancient times, my parents would leave me in the forest for the wolves when I was born. My whole life has been a struggle, I am the youngest son and the one who had the misfortune of being like this. I'm not normal, I'm not like my brothers, and as much as everyone tells me that it doesn't matter… I can't help being angry all the time.” Ivar confessed, forcing his grip on his clutch. “I was born with broken legs, I spent my entire life in hospitals and being inspected by the doctors. And now they said they think that I will get worse and stop walking completely. Being healthy is what I want.”

There was silence for a long time, while the human and demon looked at each other.

"Yes, that is possible."

"Then give it to me!"

The demon's laugh was loud, hoarse and cold, and her face was full of disdain. But then it changed in front of him, becoming something out of a horror movie. The beautiful woman was gone and now there was something much worse. It was an almost grotesque sight in his human eyes. A dark and without beauty female figure. A pale face and half cadaverous; black lips and sharp teeth like a dagger blade. Completely red eyes shining with hunger and malice. Two long horns protruded from between the hair with something sticky like blood.

Ivar's extremely blue eyes widened, he backed away almost falling again in that damn night.

“Honey, this is not how it works. Do you really know who you are talking to? Do you think you can boss me around? Do you expect me to do something to you without giving me something in return?” She said in an ugly, guttural and chilling voice, smiling devilishly revealing a long, almost snake-like tongue.

"As long as you're in that trap, you'll have to do what I want." He tried as hard as possible not to let his voice falter, but he still couldn't.

"Oh really?"

And as if just to prove her point, she took a step forward, approaching and crossing the crooked lines that formed the pentagram leaving the trap completely.

“Deary, you should have done your research better. With a normal demon, perhaps this lowly trap could have worked, but with me? I am something much worse than a simple demon, and by invoking me you have left me completely free to do what I want. ”

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be."

Ivar's heart was pounding in his chest, almost as if it was about to explode at any moment, and his fragile legs were shaking so much that he didn't even know how he was still standing.

"I want to be able to walk freely, run, jump... Do everything I can't right now. Please..." She seemed to want him to beg, but Ivar didn't. He could put aside some of his pride, but not that much.

They stayed close to each other, he deathly pale looking in amazement at the bottomless red pits that were her eyes, her sharp teeth, her black lips full of darkness... Until she opened a toothy and devilish smile, and little by little her demonic features retreated, disappearing into her skin again and making her look like a human woman again… and a beautiful one.

She walked away still smiling amused, letting out a little laugh. "Usually I give you what you want and you have ten years to enjoy it."

Ivar's heart gave a huge leap in his chest. "What happens at the end of the ten years?"

"I keep your soul…” Y/N shrugged, assessing her sharp nails before looking at him and raising her left eyebrow, still with the crooked smile on her lips. “Which means that at the end of these years, you die. "

Ten years, thought Ivar. I always knew that I wouldn't live long, anyway. But...

"Usually?" He gave voice to his thoughts.

“I liked you, you seem to have courage... You were brave in trying to challenge me, stupid, but brave. I'll give you what you want, in exchange for... ”The woman seemed to think for a while. “… a kiss.”

"A kiss?" The young man thought surprised and in other words, extremely incredulous. With everything she could ask of him, she just wanted a kiss? The book should have been mistaken, it was impossible for this demon to be so dangerous if Ivar is the one that actually wins with the agreement between them.

"A simple and small kiss." She repeated, seeing his puzzled expression. "It's one kiss or your soul, you choose."

"We have an agreement, then." Ivar said.

"Great." Y/N smiled, making her eyes blood-red again.

She came over, put her hand on his neck and pulled him forward until their lips were timidly shocking at first, but quickly turning into a fleeting and toothy kiss, with their lips moving in sync and their tongues caressing one another. She tasted like danger... And it was a good taste.

When they pulled away, Y/N still had the smirk on her mouth when she snapped her fingers, causing him to make a huge cry.

He felt excruciating pain like never before, his legs seemed to be on fire, they burned so much, the pain was horrible. It felt like all of his fragile bones were breaking and growing, only to break again. Ivar fell to the ground screaming so loudly that his neighbors probably thought he was being murdered and would be ready to call the police at any moment.

It hurt, but it passed. Sweat ran down his face, his hands were shaking, his body was shaking. But when he got up again without the help of a crutch, he had never felt better, his legs were… healthy, normal, complete… healed.

"I- I can't believe this..."

"You have what you want, and I got what I want. "

Something about her facial expression seemed wrong, Y/N seemed too delighted just for the simple reward she had won.

"The kiss wasn't the only thing you wanted, was it?"

"No, it was not."

"We had an agreement! What do you-"

"Has anyone ever told you not to mess with things you don't understand?" She stroked his face, with a smirk on her lips. "Honey, you belong to me now."

#ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader #ivar x y/n #vikings imagines #vikings #son of ragnar #ivar imagines #ivar the boneless imagines #vikings fanfic #fanfiction #imagines #one-shots #female demon reader #demon reader #ivar ragnarsson x female reader #ivar x you

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nacregames · 4 years

Note

What sort of Halloween costumes would the RO’s in morning star wear if lucifer took them to a party?

Halloween, huh? I suck at creative ideas for costumes lol

well Lilith hates you now, but she would probably go as a succubus if insisted.

Falito hates you too (even more now) and would go as a vampire? maybe?

Camus...really? He gotta dress up?...probably a cop costume?

Polly would choose to be a witch (a nasty one) with that hair lol

Mac dresses as a pirate

Ara is something cute, maybe Belle?

Gab...good luck convincing her that this isn’t pointless...otherwise might go in her true form

also snippet:

There’s a small knock on your door as you check yourself in the mirror wearing your ‘costume’. Well, it’s just an alternated form of yourself, but hey.

“Can I come in?” asks a soft voice.

“Sure,” you answer without bothering to turn around.Polly timidly steps inside, closing the door behind her. She stops when she sees you, taking in a moment to check you up head to toe.The genuine curiosity in her eyes puts a small smile on your face which causes her to avert her gaze, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks.

“W-what’s with the get-up?” she asks, still shy.

“I’m going to a party and this is my costume. What do you think?” you spin for her and face the mirror again, watching her through it. Polly is surprised at first, but then she tilts her head.

“You’re going as the devil, I assume?” You simply not, too interested on her reaction.

“It’s..,” she begins, trailing off, “well the wings look magnificent. Almost real.” Her hand reaches out to touch them, but she refrains.

Oh, if she only knew.

“Yep,” Polly announces with a click of her tongue, “definitely, too nice.”

“I mean,” she hastily begins, gesturing with her arms, “this is far from how I imagine such a vile creature to look like. You got the wings and horns, but you’re too gorgeous..”Polly says and realizes her slip-out.

The Detective is red as her hair, stumbling over her own words as she tries to save herself.

“Oh?” you muse, feeding on her pain with an amused smirk and a raised brow. “Maybe that’s how it should be, Polly. People have a wide imagination when it comes to things that displease them, and,” you say tapping your chin, “there must be a reason for the saying ‘devilishly handsome’, no?”

“I guess,” the human answers, eyebrows knit together in thought. You fix your outfit for the last time and turn around, moving closer to her until you’re standing right in front her pretty face. Her gray eyes are unable to look away.

“An advise from a friend: Don’t let yourself be fooled by appearances, Detective,” you say with a wink and a sinister smile, leaving her dumbfounded as you exit the room.

#ms #ros #eactions #polly #snippet #halloween #not gonna lie #camus in a cop costume?#is it bad to simp for your own characters?#👀#Morningstar #Lucifer

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spellmanmortuary · 4 years

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To be fair Miner is a typical Halloween costume, Nick dresses like a normal person, don’t know how you can find Caliban’s clothes unless it’s the pac sun looking shirt. At least Part 4 can deliver Jock Nick and Cheerleader Sabrina costumes.

ok this ask made me crack open my computer so it should tell u how much i care abt fashion

but basically !! no one is wearing the miner look. the harvey costumes are the plaid shirt, the jeans and the sneakers with the boy next door hair + the brown leather jacket. so basically the look he’s had throughout the show’s run.

the problem is that nick and caliban don’t have noteworthy style. harvey’s isn’t exactly noteworthy or groundbreaking, but, it’s identifiable and he has a signature look going. like if you prop any dude dressed in the plaid + jeans + jacket combo next to a girl dressed as sabrina, you’ll know it’s harvey.

however: the other guys don’t have this kind of signature style.

take nick. in p1 his style ? mess. he had this schoolboy thing going ? like he was wearing the white button up shirt with the sweater and they had him wear that in the promo material for some strange reason. but then in p2 they found his groove and had him in the dark turtlenecks and all black outfits, which were honestly ?? great. but then for p3 the style said 😌 it was nice to meet u 😌 and they had a weird regression where they started putting him in the ill fitting jeans with boots but occasionally in the white shirts again ?? and like in my opinion his style throughout the 3 parts has been kind of inconsistent to the point where the Nick Scratch Signature Look is just. him shirtless in dark pants. which again, might be great for like character development ( which i’m not sure of either lmao ) but it isn’t great when you’re trying to build a costume.

as for caliban ? missed potential tbh. like i get that they had to have him in the whole hell attire but couldn’t they make it a bit more fashionable ?? like. even beelzebub has that great fun flesh crown and he has those fur coats that he wears with skull belts and stuff. i think that what went wrong with calibans lack of ~iconic style-ness~ is that they put him in this ugly ass vest without a shirt for most of p3. and his style was not cohesive at ALL. like. we had the vest thing and then we got this amazing romantic novel prince moment but then we got this 70′s looking ensemble that looks like it could have been worn by logan lerman in hunters. so tell me, caos wardrobe department, what is caliban’s style ?

in my opinion, it was wasted potential lol. like look at the fashion warlocks wear in ahs: apocalypse !!! i think that the show and even nick’s character could have been a lot more stylish if they had given him the same style he had in the first two parts for the third one, but in colors that went from dark to clear. like i know the show loves the 60s so why did we never get a short sleeved turtleneck moment ? we know gavin would’ve looked really good in one of those. we could have gotten a preppy striped cardigan with a black tshirt underneath. we could have gotten long black coats and blazers in interesting cuts. we could have gotten a tie moment. but no.... ill fitting jeans we know he’s short you don’t have to spell it out for us with those jeans that looked like he took them from harvey but had to fold the legs so they would fit him.

i love ambrose’s style but like it could have been a lot more fun and iconic. if they loved the psychdellic 70s menswear for him they could have leaned into it more and given him corduroy vests with funky print shirts/bellbottoms/funky colored blazers and big collars.

for caliban they could have given him a much more regal signature look, which would have made sense because he wanted the crown so bad it was natural that he would want to look the part. they could have given him a campy ass wardrobe with like. over the top embroidered shirts/some bejeweling/some faux fur and like. an actual hair look bc that just looks like sam combed his hair and showed up to set. some guyliner even.

because look, it doesn’t matter if they dress like regular people because if the character has great style that looks recognizable, people will want to dress up as them, like the euphoria characters, or buffy the vampire slayer, or even sabrina herself. sabrina has a ton of signature, identifiable looks and moments despite the wardrobe departments’ best efforts so people want to dress up as her. she looks cute, she looks fun, it works if you want to make it sexy or spooky or conservative or a combination of the three. you can pick the plaid skirt + turtleneck, the red peacoat, the cheer uniform or if you want to go all out, you can do the whole I AM THE DARK LORD’S SWORD thing. you can wear the red off the shoulder top from the promos or the black queen of hell dress. same goes for the weird sister’s dresses. they’re cute, relatively easy to copy, and they can be as fun and flirty as u wanna make them.

to be honest, to me the problem is that the style in caos is.... a bit messy. it’s confusing because characters look like they all came from different eras and their styles ( except ambrose, who stays pretty on brand with the 70s ) blend together in the most boring, print crazy, muted tones ( which. why??? they’re teenagers why are they always wearing autumnal colors ), sometimes they put the actors in things that are unflattering to their body types like sabrina’s valentine’s day ruched red dress atrocity that shit belongs to in a middle school spring fling dance or nick’s weird carnival canadian tux, and sometimes they mix eras? like with sabrina’s style, which inexplicably jumps from 60s to 70s but nothing she wears looks like what her aunts would have worn at her age so where and how did she even get those ?? were those like... her mom’s ?? if they were, why has the connection never been made ? it could have been great for emotional depth.

but anyway, the characters that we see on halloween or at comic cons are usually the weird sisters ( specifically prudence ), hilda, zelda, lilith, harvey, sabrina, and occasionally ambrose. this is most likely due to the fact that they have the more signature, noteworthy, recognizable clothes. the weird sisters have that one signature look and they ROCK it, hilda and zelda both dress like different kinds of stereotypical witches with identifiable hairstyles and are a fun friends/sisters costume, and lilith had that MOMENT with the demon face. harvey’s style is cute and consistent and pretty much timeless, maybe sometimes 90s inspired-ish. sabrina has an identifiable look with the hairstyle even if that wig is awful.

so yeah, that was my long way of saying that the reason why people aren’t dressing up as nick or caliban even if theyre in a couples costume with a sabrina is because those two have unidentifiable, non cohesive style.

caos could have been a fashion show.... could’ve brought 60′s/70′s inspo in fashion back... but for some reason it didnt rlly do that lol

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huening-sunshine · 4 years

Text

⁕ Happy Halloween ⁕ HueningKai x Reader fluff (oneshot) ⁕

⁕ hi everyone, it’s me!! so i was searching for hueningkai pics on google (as i seem to be doing all the time nowadays) and i found this one picture (below) and it gave me an idea to write this fanfic, even though it’s not halloween anymore and i’m one day late. nevertheless, i hope you’ll enjoy ! ⁕

| This fanfic is in Y/N / Reader’s POV |

Word count: 1,159

Genre: Fluff, oneshot

Hueningkai x reader <3

Today is Halloween!! I love this day. You get to trick or treat, dress up in funny costumes that you couldn’t wear any other time of the year without looking weird, party with your friends, watch scary movies, it’s just such a fun time!

I’ve already got my outfit picked out. I just need to put it on, It’s a cute witch costume. A bit cliched, but the outfit is nice so I want to wear it.

I put the outfit on. Now I just need to do my makeup.

Done :)

Wow.. I look different now.. but isn’t that obvious?

My friend Lilith is going to introduce me to her friend. She says that his name is Kai. I don’t know anything else about him though.

I go downstairs, and I wave goodbye to my parents and my sister. I also pet my cat, Snowie, as I walk out the door.

Waiting for me on the pavement just outside my house are two people; one of them being Lilith, and the other one being.. a handsome young man with dark hair.. Ah, I guess this is that guy named Kai she told me about.

I say hi to Lillith but Kai just grabs my attention so much. Luckily I am able to compose myself before I get too lost in the moment. I say hi to Kai.

Lillith turns to me and says, “Y/N, this is my friend Kai, uhh I’ll let him introduce himself,” she says with a giggle.

Kai stares at me for a little bit, with a smile on his face. It seems like he’s doing the same thing as I did... or maybe it’s just my imagination running away with me.

He then introduces himself to me.. “Hi, my name’s Kai, haha, I’m 18 and I like playing music. What about you?”

“Well.. my name’s Y/N, I’m 18 as well, and I like listening to music, which is a concidence, haha!”

“Hmm, you like listening to music? Maybe I can play you some songs on my piano. What’s your favourite song?”

“I can’t decide... probably All I Want Is You by A.C.E.”

“Oh yeah I love that song! I can play it for you if you like” he says to me with a smile on his face.

I was going to continue the conversation. But Lillith looked kind of annoyed that she was being a third wheel. So I decided to talk to Lillith a bit.

...

“Anyway, we better get going to the party.” I say.

“Yeah, you’re right Y/N” Lillith replies.

We started to walk to the party. It’s being hosted at my other friend Jane’s house. As we get closer to the house you can start to hear booming music. It sounds pretty exciting.

We walk up to the house and I ring the doorbell. A few seconds afterwards the door swings open and I see Jane. She says “Y/N!! The party is going to be so much better with you and Lillith..” She then looks at Kai for a few seconds, confused. “Who’s this?” she asks.

“Oh, it’s just Lillith’s friend Kai.” Kai waves to Jane and he introduces himself. Then we walk into the house.

The living room is packed with a bunch of other people. People who I don’t know. I decide the first place I’m going to walk to is the snack area. I budge and “Excuse me” my way through the crowd. There’re some pretty awesome costumes here though. Really realistic ones of movie characters. Mine couldn’t possibly compare to anyone else’s here. Well, that’s fine I suppose, since I’m here to have a good time.

I get to the snack area. I take a white plastic cup and fill it with Coca-Cola. Then I carefully walk through the crowd of people, and dance the night away (carefully, I don’t wanna spill my Coke!)

...

After a while of dancing around, and after most of the party guests have left, it’s just me, Lillith, Jane, and Kai. Lillith and Jane ask if we want to play Truth or Dare. But to be honest, I’m a bit tired so I don’t really want to play. Kai says the same thing. Jane says that we can just explore her house a bit, so we do.

Me and Kai walk into another room. There is a couch, some shelves, and a piano.

“Ha, there’s a piano here. I might as well play that song for you then...” Kai says to me with a smile.

He sits down on the piano stool, and I sit on the couch. He starts playing, like a professional. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard, and nothing can top it. His technique is perfect, and he’s so talented. He doesn’t even have any sheet music either.

Once the song is finished, I have no reaction other than to start clapping. What I heard was so amazing... I have no words.

Kai gets up from the seat and he blushes a little, smiles and says “Haha, thank you, thank you!”

“Oh. my. God. You are so good at piano!”

“Thanks Y/N” he replies with a smile.

Then he looks at me for a few seconds and says, “Well Y/N if I’m gonna be honest with you... I think you’re really pretty.”

I’m in shock, but I’m happy. This really really handsome guy thinks that I’m pretty? This has to be a dream. I pinch my arm, but no, it isn’t!

I say, “Wow... thanks. And honestly, I think you’re really handsome.”

He thanks me as well.

“And also, to be honest, I haven’t known you for that long. But well, you seem like a really nice person to talk to,” Kai says to me.

“Really... wow... thanks... I’m not really sure what to say though... haha.” I reply.

“Haha, it’s okay,” he replies to me with a reassuring smile. “Hm, would you like to meet up for coffee tomorrow?” he asks me.

I try not to act too excited. I say “Haha, of course!”

Kai says, “Great!” with a big smile on his face. He asks for my number, so I write it down on a slip of paper and hand it to him.

“Ok, just adding you to my contacts,” he says. Then a text tone sounds from my phone, I open it, it’s from a random number, the text says “Hi!!! It’s Kai!!!”

I reply “Hi!! It’s Y/N!!”

Another text tone sounds, it’s not the one that comes from my phone, so it must be Kai’s phone. I hear him laugh and then he replies to me.

Another text comes on my phone. “We should probably talk IRL since we’re literally in the same room haha!!”

I lock the screen and I say to him, “Yeah, I agree.”

Then we both laugh.

I have a feeling that when we meet for coffee tomorrow, it’s gonna end up going really well.

- the end.

#fanfiction #txt #txt fanfiction #txt fanfic #fanfic #fluff fanfic #fluff fanfiction #txt fluff #txt fluff fanfic #txt fluff fanfiction #fluff #txt hueningkai #tomorrow x together #hueningkai x reader fluff

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youkaiangel · 6 years

Text

The Dragon’s Weakness - Wizardess Heart Fanfic - One Shot

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Rembrandt x OC (student)

Words: 6200

A/N: inspired by this amazing CG that has recently surfaced, I have finally gotten around to finishing this fic. I know I have other things I should be writing, but damn. This is smut, and the OC in this fic is a student, you have been warned.

***

I’d never been one to enjoy Halloween very much, having never really celebrated it, but since coming to the Academy and spending my Halloweens with my friends, it wasn’t so bad. Luca always managed to make it fun, delighting in pranking first year students trying to get lucky at the back of the Academy main building.

We’d spent the most of the night drinking and dancing at the Gedonelune Royal Magic Academy’s Annual Halloween Costume Party. The hot topic in the girls’ dorm for lead up to the party was what sexy (read, slutty) costume everyone was going to wear; what would make Elias blush; what would grab Caesar’s attention; or what would please the ‘Pinnacle of All Creations, Alive or Dead’. I, the sluttiest slut of the Academy, would not be outdone by a bunch of amateurs, and I felt I did quite well. While other girls did a sexy cat familiar, a sexy ancient wizardess, or sexy carbuncle, I did something that was sure to get all the boys’ attention: a sexy golden phoenix. A golden string bikini, strappy golden heels, some long golden tail feathers and gold body paint was my entire costume for the night.

The party was over now though and Guy the cowboy, Luca the pirate, and I sat madly giggling behind a wall, trying not to laugh too loud at the third group of first year boys who had just run from their dates and Luca’s ‘apparition’.

We all quietened up when we heard the footsteps from around the corner though.

‘Oh no,’ Luca murmured, but while he made a mad scramble to his feet and hissed something about running for it, Professor Schuyler rounded the corner and spotted us all.

Like rabbits in the headlights, we all froze.

‘Are you three aware it is past curfew?’

I glanced at Luca beside me, halfway to his feet, and then Guy on my other side. Neither of them said a word.

‘You can come with me to the Headmaster’s office.’

***

I was honestly surprised Headmaster Rembrandt was up this late, and still working. When we entered his office, he sat at his desk, multiple piles of papers overlapping each other in front of him. The fire crackling in the corner was the only sound in the office.

‘Headmaster, these three have been caught out after curfew, again.’

‘I see.’ Rembrandt looked up from his papers, and I noticed him recoil a little when he looked at us. He wasn’t honestly that surprised that we were out late was he?

No, I realised, and I was suddenly painfully aware of my skimpy outfit in 100% gold, as the Dragonkin’s eyes travelled over me.

Professor Schuyler continued on, explaining the circumstances of how he found us allegedly bullying younger students. I glanced at Luca beside me and he glanced back, but then turned to look at the Headmaster again. Rembrandt’s eyes were still trained on me. I watched his attention flick to the two boys to my right, but I swear I saw it come straight back to me.

What is he looking at? What is he thinking? Oh god, what if he wants to put me in his treasure hoard in the spiral staircase? I frantically wondered. However, my conscience immediately kicked in and told me, that’s stupid, he’s a Dragonkin, not an actual dragon. He wouldn’t lock a student up for his own personal pleasure— oh god what if he wants to fuck me? That look, I know that look, that’s a hungry look. My stupid train of though kept running at full steam, questioning everything that could possibly happen.

I wrapped my arms across my stomach, meekly attempting to cover some of my body, and wondering why the hell the Headmaster was still looking at only me. Surely Dragonkin are not that affected by gold, right?

But then again, he knew my history. Rembrandt had caught me one day, mostly naked, hiding under that very desk while the former Headmaster was brazenly laughing but quietly eager to escort him out of the room. Rembrandt had given me a smile, but since I didn’t even know him then, I had no idea what that cheeky little smile meant. Hell, I still didn’t know what that cheeky smile meant. I could see it on his lips from the edges of my vision, my eyes fixed on the front of the desk.

Professor Schuyler finished his testimony against us with a request that Headmaster Rembrandt apply a suitable punishment for our transgressions. The latter cleared his throat as he stood, taking hold of his ruby-topped sceptre and placing both hands on it before him.

‘Well, I don’t think I need to explain that antagonizing other students is not in line with academy policy,’ Rembrandt said, sternly looking between the three of us. ‘The entire academy was given a delay in curfew tonight, on the condition that proper behaviour would be demonstrated by all. The three of you have jeopardised that privilege ever being granted again.’

‘Of course, sir,’ Guy sputtered, ‘it won’t happen again sir.’

‘No, I don’t expect it will,’ Rembrandt threatened. I chanced a glance up to look at his expression though, to try to get a gauge on him, and he was still smiling. More importantly, he was still smiling at me. ‘As punishment,’ he continued, ‘you’ll assist the Prefect team in their cleaning duties after the party.’

‘Wha—’ Luca started, but promptly cut himself off from a kick in the shin by Guy.

‘Is there a problem, Mr Orlem?’

I watched Luca, willing him to keep his mouth shut so we could all get out of here and Rembrandt would stop watching me. He glanced up at the tall man and muttered, ‘no, sir.’

I let out a small sigh of relief.

‘Excellent,’ Rembrandt commented. ‘You may be on your way, gentlemen.’

My heart stopped. Why is he excusing them and not me?

Luca and Guy both looked across at me, not budging from their spot. They looked at each other, then at me again.

‘You heard the Headmaster, boys!’ Schuyler snapped. He grabbed both boys by their ears and pulled them backwards towards the door.

‘Ow!’

‘We get it!’

‘Let go!’

Schuyler released the boys as he reached for the door, then held it for them as they both scurried from the room, neither of them giving so much as a backwards glance to me. Schuyler left, pulling the door shut behind himself with a heavy clunk and reinforcing the still silence left in the room.

I turned back to face the Headmaster. He still wore that soft cheeky smile, his eyes sparkling dangerously as he looked at me. ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Miss Farrell,’ he said with his sweet soft grin. ‘Randolph advised me before he left that you suffer from a… peculiar curse.’

‘Yes, sir.’ My voice was barely above a whisper, but in the quiet room I knew he could still hear me.

He probed further as he stepped out from behind his desk and came to stand in front of it a few feet from me, ‘Would you care to explain?’

‘Uhh,’ I mumbled. His presence was intimidating to say the least. What was he playing at, watching me, keeping me here, asking me about my curse? I explained in brief, ‘my mother was possessed by a Lilith fairy when I was born. Part of the Lilith’s power was transferred to me.’

I glanced up to meet his pale icy eyes. He was still watching me with his ethereal smile.

‘And how does this effect you?’ He tilted his head as he questioned me, leaning forward with interest.

I took a deep breath, considering how to best word my answer. ‘I need to keep the power in check,’ I explained, ‘otherwise it becomes difficult to control.’ I didn’t know how much the Headmaster had figured out, or how much Randolph had explained to him, and I certainly didn’t want to spit out a blatant answer. Admitting I slept with other students to balance out my curse didn’t seem like a good idea.

‘I take it some of your classmates have volunteered to help you keep it in check?

Shit, he knows.

My mind scrambled, wondering how on earth he knew so much. Had he seen something? Heard something? ‘Yeah…’ I mumbled, not sure what else to say. I could feel the heat rising in my neck, but I hoped the body paint would cover it up.

‘Hmm.’ He kept his eyes trained on me, while I kept looking around trying to find something not so awkward to look at, without being rude. ‘I’m concerned that this curse is somewhat distracting for the other students. Young men do like to talk.’

I shook my head and murmured a ‘mm-nm,’ my lips firmly pursed. ‘I use secret keepers spells to make sure they don’t.’

‘I see.’ He nodded once. ‘And yourself?’

I glanced up to meet his eyes, taking in his mysterious smile once again. I had no idea what he was asking, what did he want me to say? I asked timidly, ‘What about me?’

Rembrandt stepped forward again, leaving his sceptre leaning against the desk and smoothly crossing the three steps to shorten the distance between us to maybe a foot. He asked as he moved, ‘do you find your curse distracting?’

It wasn’t until he was right in front of me that I realised how tall he actually was, his powerful presence and intimate line of questioning forcing me to look up at his eyes. ‘I…’ I started, but trailed off, not quite sure how to finish my sentence. His crisp blue eyes were just mesmerizing, like there was a light of their own inside them. The way his horns encircled his head, like a dangerous crown, and his silken dark hair fell in strands around his angled faced. I’d always knows he was beautiful, but I’d never been close enough to appreciate his stunning features.

He’d asked a question though, and I needed to answer. I found the words, stammering, ‘I-I manage it.’ I realised when I tried to speak that my breath had caught in my throat. I swallowed, trying to be subtle and probably failing. Rembrandt must’ve noticed because the corners of his mouth curled up ever so slightly in a sly smile. I could feel my cheeks burning and kept praying that he couldn’t tell while I dropped my eyes to look straight at his chest in front of me.

He spoke quietly but clearly, his voice soothing, ‘a Lilith’s power is an incredibly beautiful marvel.’ He reached up, his long elegant fingers reaching to brush the back of his nails from my bare shoulder down my arm. His touch, cool and light, made me freeze. ‘A mortal girl, essentially perpetually possessed by a Lilith…’ His hand stopped, wrapping around the back of my arm, just above my elbow. His hand was strong and cold. ‘I can see why so many of the students are captivated by you.’

My heart was racing, my head clouded over with so many mixed emotions. Terrified was an understatement but exhilarated also suited the moment well. There was no doubt in my mind now that he was hitting on me, and I hadn’t done anything to stop him. Did I even want him to stop? The idea of seducing such a powerful man was tantalising. Somewhere in the back of my mind my conscience, the good little angel side of me, was screaming at me no, back away, run away, but the devil was winning out. I realised I didn’t want to miss this once in a lifetime opportunity. I swallowed deeply again and with my eyes still fixed on his firm chest, I asked, ‘and you?’

His free hand raised between us to take hold of my chin, his taloned thumb resting just below my lower lip. He put the slightest pressure on to tilt my head up and look at him again. As he leant down to meet me, he whispered, ‘captivated.’

He pressed his lips against mine.

My chest felt like it would explode, my heart was thundering so hard. I’d made the decision and I couldn’t back out, but I still felt like a child, so inexperienced and nervous. Wake up, girl, I told myself. You want this, then do it. He let go of my chin, his hand moving to the side of my face, cupping my cheek in his palm, his long claws grazing through my hair. He kissed me again, barely a second between drawing away and pressing his lips to mine once more. I kissed him back, but I had no idea what else to do.

His thumb on the side of my arm massaged small circles into my skin. I realised I wasn’t even touching him, what if I was giving him the wrong idea? I placed my hands on his waist, feeling the various textures of fabrics under my palms; rounded jewels, cool gold, firm leather. His clothes were intricate to say the least, and I had no idea where to start, or even if I should. What if he didn’t want anything more than a kiss? Dragonkin are barren, allegedly, so would he even want to go all the way? His kiss was so gentle, his hands on me soothing, and giving me absolutely no indication of his further intentions. It was so like Rembrandt to be so difficult to read.

He drew back from our kiss momentarily, only to lean in again with slightly parted lips. I naturally parted my lips to kiss him back, my tongue meeting his to dance between our mouths. He was not forceful or overbearing, not pressuring his way between my lips, but letting me allow him. Still, he was impossible to read. I ran one hand up his waist, over the soft silken fabric and towards his chest. I could feel his dark tresses sweep over my arm as I raised it, sending a flutter through my chest.

His hand on my cheek dropped away and soon found my hip, barely above my bikini line, before inching around my back to rest near the feathery tail hanging from the back of my swim suit. His touch was so cool and smooth, unnaturally so. His fingers were curled, the tips of his sharp claws touching my skin, but as he stretched his fingers out to lay them flat on my skin, they inched their way underneath the waistband of my bikini, his fingertips not really on my lower back anymore.

Was this a sign? Was he trying to hint that he wanted to get in my pants? Was he waiting for permission or just trying to gauge me as much as I was him? Our kiss broke, lips slowly drawing away from each other. I didn’t want to break the moment, so with a happy pleading whimper I leant forward again, raising up off my heels to kiss him once more, deep and open mouthed. His hand on my ass squeezed tighter as he matched the passion in my kiss, his tongue swirling around mine.

Rembrandt stepped forward, but he wasn’t leaning in to me. His hand on my arm pulled me backwards and I realised he was pushing me across the room. I stumbled, trying not to trip as he guided me backwards, still locked in our kiss, until my ass and the back of my head hit the wall. He pressed closer to me and I could feel something not part of his clothing digging into my stomach. It was somewhat evident from his passion and eagerness that he didn’t want just a kiss now.

I squeezed my hands between our bodies, finding my way along the cool smooth gold belt holding his robes in place. I had no idea where the thing began or ended, or how to open it though. At least Rembrandt must’ve gotten the hint as he drew his hand out from behind me and reached between us to unclasp the belt. It and the leather obi around his waist dropped to the floor with a dull knock and sharp clatter of metal and his robes fell loose. Our deep kiss broke momentarily for air, but our lips locked again just as fast.

My hands ran up the patterned silk trim on his robe, while he unclipped the fastener on his chest so I could push it back off his shoulders. He had to let go of me so the heavy fabrics could fall back off his arms, now just a pile on the floor. Still, he worse another thin black kimono underneath, which he quickly stripped off his arms and dropped to the floor behind himself before his smooth hands found me again, one on my shoulder, the other snaking around my neck and drawing me in closer to him. He wore nothing but his hakama now. My lips were wet and tingling from his strong kiss, my body becoming very eager for him.

His hand on my shoulder reached behind my neck for the bow tying my string bikini up, while I fiddled with the knot holding his hakama to his hips. There was no uncertainty left between us anymore. He pulled the bow undone and lifted his chest off me for long enough to let the small triangles of fabric drop down to hang off my ribcage and freeing my breasts, before pressing his cool smooth chest against me again. Everything about his skin was so soft and silken, it felt impossibly good pressing against me.

I finally figured out the knot on his hakama and untangled it, loosening the strip around his hips and the fabric fell down. It was still pinned between us, his hips leaning against my stomach. I tugged at the fabric and he lifted his hips for long enough for me to pull it down from between us. He was now very bare before me, still pushing me against the wall with his chest on mine. I slid my hand between us to take hold of him—

My heart faltered for a moment as I wrapped (or tried to at least) my hand around his stiff cock. I wanted to draw back to check what the hell I was holding, but my head was already firmly pressed back against the wall and my neck so arched I was struggling to move. It made sense at least that this ancient god-like man was proportionately well endowed. I ran my hand up the length of him, feeling his weight and size in my hand, the smoothness of his skin, almost like fine scales. I knew I was in for a rough night.

His hands found my hips again, fingers sliding underneath the bikini waist band. He pushed the bikini down, but I knew I’d need to help to wiggle out of the tight fabric. I let go of him and replaced his hands with my own to slip the small bikini over my ass and to the floor.

As soon as the bikini slid off my legs, Rembrandt had his hands on my thighs, effortlessly lifting me to sit on his waist. I may have accidentally let out a small yelp at the sudden movement, my hands snapping to his shoulders to steady myself. I locked my legs around his back and I could feel grazing against my ankle a line of fine spikes trailing down his spine to the swell at the lower of his back that seemed too sharp to be his ass. The feel so his shaft pressed firmly between my legs, my lips embracing him, his cool, soft skin on my thighs, against my body and under my palms, his strong arms and chest securing me in place and his sweet passionate kiss on my lips, all combined was pressing every button I had. I could feel between my legs was already hot and wet, my heart back to it’s rapid pace. It was so much easier to kiss him from this height but I was powerless to do a thing to encourage him.

I didn’t have to though. With one hand still supporting me under my thigh, the left slowly let go. He drew his hips away from me and even though his chest was still holding me in place I felt like I was going to fall. He slid his hand between our bodies and down to take hold of himself, while I moved my leg up as high as I could, managing to hook it over his shoulder, and moving my hand to his neck. He pushed his cock down, rubbing his head between my spread lips and against my wet opening. I swear I heard him moan, felt a shudder in his chest, as he came into contact with the slick heat.

He pushed his hips forward, forcing his thick cock into my opening. Barely two inches and I could already feel his girth stretching me out. ‘Oh god,’ I panted against his lips. He slowed but didn’t stop, pushing deeper inside me. ‘Oh fuck!’ I broke the kiss, glancing down but I couldn’t see past his abdomen pressed against mine. He must’ve only had his head inside me but it was already tight and painful.

He nudged my head with his forehead, tilting my head backwards to look at him again. I took a glimpse into his eyes, but quickly lost my nerve, my eyes falling down again. I could feel his eyes still on mine though and I felt maddeningly disrespectful, so I met him strong gaze. I wanted him. I wanted to please him. I trusted him not to hurt me. I glanced at his lips, eager to kiss him again. I murmured while leaning in to him, ‘please.’

I kissed him again, a furious heat in my lips. Rembrandt matched me, his tongue meeting my lapping tongue. He pressed his hips further against mine, sliding another inch or so insider of me. My body tightened around him, my leg on his shoulder pressing against him. He stopped, his kiss softening, then slid out of me that same inch he just took. I knew he was far to big for me to handle all of him, especially against a wall in such an unforgiving position. But still as he kissed me deeper again I felt him push his hips in, even further this time. I panted into his kiss, and just tried to relax as he drew back and pushed his way in ever deeper again.

The deeper he went the harder it became to relax, my leg straining against his shoulder, but I didn’t mean to push him away. It was just a reflex. I clung tighter to his neck and other shoulder, pulling myself closer to him, trying to angle myself better to ease the pressure between my legs, and on a small scale it helped. My tongue flicked against his, firm and wet. The thought of his tongue tracing over the more sensitive parts of my body helped me to relax. He pressed deeper inside of me again, pushing against the end of my cervix and sending a jolt of electricity through my body. Each stroke pulled a high whimper from me. I had no idea if this felt incredible or terrible.

Perhaps Rembrandt noticed the pained whimpers in my kiss, or perhaps he didn’t like the feel of his long cock pushing into the end of my opening. Whatever the case, he pulled out a little longer and only pressed in to me a shorter, much more pleasurable distance. He drew back again and pushed inside me, quicker this time, and then faster again, his pace quickening.

This I knew felt incredible. The feel of him inside me, filling me up and stretching me out. He was easily the biggest I had ever seen or felt. It was probably something that could rival a horse, or come close at least, and it made me wonder if this was the reason why it was so difficult for Dragonkins to reproduce. He seemed to be well aware of his size though, and knew how to use it so as to not kill me. He smoothly drew back and sunk into me over and over, a sensation I could happily revel in for hours.

I raked my nails over the back of his shoulder and felt a tiny clicking under my touch. I realised the reason why he felt so smooth and soft: he was covered in tiny scales. The scales on his chest and abdomen, pressed against the back of my thigh hooked on his shoulder, were impossibly smooth and so very fine it could easily be mistaken for flesh, but on his back, particularly closer to the ridges on his spine, the scales grew a little larger, and harder.

The ridges didn’t bother me, they even helped to anchor my leg wrapped around his waist. I could feel movement beneath my heel, and I hoped I wasn’t hurting him. I adjusted my leg a little lower down, and I noticed it was just his long tail, sweeping side to side every few seconds.

The skin, or scales, on his back was much cooler after adjusting my leg. I realised though, it wasn’t a cold spot but rather everywhere I was pressed against him was becoming much warmer. His lips felt as warm as mine now, and his body was definitely not as cool under my leg as it first had been. I ran my hand on the back of his neck up into his hair to test my theory and as I had guessed, underneath his fine silken hair was just as cool as the rest of him.

Oh god, he really is a reptile, he’s not human at all.

Even so, that thought didn’t stop me from enjoying every second of his deep kiss and strong pounding. My fingers entwining in the back of his hair found the base of his horns, near the top of his spine. I wanted to grab on to one, to support myself, but I wasn’t sure if that was okay for him, so I settled for taking a fistful on his long hair to help steady myself and pull me closer to him.

The strain on my leg was getting worse. I didn’t dare move, for fear of falling if he didn’t have a strong enough hold on me, so I tried my best to relax and just trust myself to his hands. It helped to make the pain more pleasurable, even if my pleading whimpers we’re still growing higher from the strain.

It was all pushed from my mind though when he pressed his hips further in to mine, his long cock sinking deeper into me than before. That jolt of sharp electricity cut through my abdomen again as he slammed into the end of my opening, but now it wasn’t so painful. My body must’ve been more prepared for it, since this time it only made me feel fuller. He didn’t stop though, drawing back and thrusting in to me again, over and over contacting with the end of my cervix, and every sensitive nerve inside of me. I was begging now between brief kisses, pleases and yes, god yeses. I could hear his laboured breathing in the frequent breaks from our kisses. Did that mean he was close? I wanted him to be close.

I gripped his shoulder tighter, my nails digging in to him. My hand in his hair clenched tighter and I know I heard a guttural moan slip out of his lips. It was mere seconds until he slammed his hips deep against mine one final time. He tore away from my lips, bowing his head as his body trembled, his horns pressing hard against my forehead. Another strained moan slipped out of his lips. I could feel him pulsating inside me, throbbing almost as fast as my heart, making me shudder and sigh in ecstasy.

I opened my eyes, trying to watch his reaction. His eyes were tight shut and his teeth gritted. I don’t think he was even breathing, but I knew I was panting heavily. Oops. I realised I was breathing on him and tried to slow my breathing down as best I could. Everything was starting to hurt now.

He opened his eyes, looking straight into mine. His eyes were like starlight, his gaze mesmerising, even awkward as it was. He was stunningly beautiful, and addictively powerful.

‘Are you alright, my dear?’

His voice caught me off guard, reminding me that this was still the Headmaster pinning me to the wall, his dragon cock still deep inside me. The tingling heat rushed to my cheeks, and I knew the gold paint wouldn’t be hiding it this time. ‘I’m okay,’ I whispered with heavy breath. ‘I just can’t move my leg.’ As much as I wanted to get down on my own two feet, my leg hooked over his shoulder wasn’t going to move easily, if at all.

He leant away from me ever so slightly, my weight sinking into his hands under my ass, and his cock still firmly trapped inside me. I could feel it even more, thick and heavy as he slowly pulled away from me. My leg was in incredible pain now, stiff and aching from being tensed up in a difficult position for too long, but I was still enjoying the sensation of him slowly drawing out of me. He was not soft yet and I could feel every inch sliding across my tender flesh until he was free from inside me.

‘Mmnm!’ I whimpered high and loud as my ankle came to slide on to his shoulder. My leg was in too much pain. He stopped, still as a statue, holding me tight. I lowered my leg from around his waist down to reach for the floor, while taking a few steady long breaths. Once the pain in my leg had subsided, or I was just accustomed to it, I dropped my ankle off the side of his shoulder.

My leg hit the floor like a dead weight, and my body lurched forward from the tension, throwing me into his now golden-patterned chest. He laughed, a dark murmur of a laugh under his breath as he placed his hands on my arms.

God, girl, pull yourself together!

I willed myself to overcome the pain running down the back of my leg and straightened up to look at him again. ‘Sorry,’ I murmured. I wanted to look in his eyes, but my gaze could only make it up to his lips, now a faint glittering gold colour transferred from mine. He was so tall, but if I was being honest, it wasn’t his height that was stopping me from looking in his eyes.

Thankfully, those smooth graceful lips curled up in a gentle smile. ‘No need to apologise,’ he said with a mild chuckle. He let go of one of my arms to take hold of my chin again, nudging my head up to look in his eyes again, before he leant down to capture my lips once more.

His kiss was back to his original, soft and gentle, but this time it helped to steady my racing heart, not make it worse. I could happily stand there, kissing him for hours, but he drew back after just a swift press of his lips.

He stood up straight again, letting go of my chin to place his hand on my shoulder again. ‘You’d best get back to your dormitory, before another Professor catches you out.’

A cringe ran straight up my neck and into my cheeks. This man was still the headmaster, Dragonkin or not. But I’d just witnessed him in a man’s most vulnerable moment, and he still hadn’t let go of me. Perhaps him being fascinated by my gold outfit was not such a terrible thing after all? Not that much of it was left on me. I ran a finger across his chest, wiping off a line of the gold paint that had rubbed off the back of my leg and whispered a sly, ‘yes, sir.’

He smiled at me, a very cheeky mysterious smile, but then stepped back, his supportive grip on my shoulders loosening. My leg buckled as I tried to even out the weight on my legs, and Rembrandt’s hands tightened on my arms again. ‘I’m fine,’ I rushed, ‘I’m okay.’

‘Hmm,’ he murmured. He watched me for a few more moments, then eventually said, ‘if you’re certain…’ He trailed off as he loosened his grip on me again. This time, I knew to just leave my weight on good leg.

Get back to your dorm, I reminded myself. I pulled the two halves of my bikini top up to tie it around my breasts as I watched Rembrandt lean forward to pick up his hakama from around his ankles. His face was perilously close to my body, leaning around me. He kept his head straight though, his eyes on my body as he moved. As he bent forward I caught a glimpse of his back, through his thick dark hair sliding off his body. The ridged scales on his spin were the same colour as his hair, leading all the way down to his tail extending from the base of his spine. I’d never even seen pictures this detailed of a Dragonkin, let alone one up close. It was so fascinating.

He stood up straight again, pulling up his hakama to tie it around his hips. I had completely forgotten that I was supposed to be putting my clothes back on as well and rushed to tie my bikini string behind my neck. I leant back against the wall and bent over to collect up my bikini bottom, slipping my feet in one at a time, then gingerly straightening up to pull the small panties up again. Rembrandt had finished the intricate knot on his hips, the one I had struggled so long to figure out. His kimono, his robes, and all the decorative pieces he wore stayed on the floor. Instead he stepped forward to trap me against the wall again, one hand on the wall, the other on the back of my neck, and leant down to lock his lips over mine in a deep and unexpected kiss.

No matter how unprepared I was for it though, I still kissed him back. I smiled against his lips, enjoying every second of his mild obsession with me. He keeps kissing me, I wondered, does he not want me to go? The thought crossed my mind if this would ever happen again. It didn’t take me long to figure out I wanted it to, but perhaps in an easier position next time.

He drew my lower lip out gently as he pulled back, letting go off our kiss painfully slow. He didn’t lean in again though. I whispered to him, ‘if you keep doing that, I’m not going to leave.’

He let out a small amused hmph, a smirk curling one corner of his lips. He murmured back to me, ‘if you’re caught out, I won’t be able to help you.’

The tiniest sharp stab struck my heart, but it was nothing I wasn’t accustom to. I was a naughty little secret, and no one could ever find out the truth. I laughed it off with a sly snicker and said in a teasing whisper, ‘fine then, I’ll go.’ I gave him one last swift kiss on the lips, before slipping out from between him and the wall.

I tried my best not to limp, and instead put a little swagger in my step as I sauntered to the door, at least to give him something to look at. I couldn’t deny that my leg hurt like a bitch though. The tail feathers in the back of my bikini flicked against the back of my legs as I walked, so something in my step was moving right. I opened the door, glancing back over my shoulder to see Rembrandt still standing by the wall, gold paint smeared across his glorious tall strong body, and the front of his hakama. He was watching me with his usual peaceful smile and calm eyes, back to the impossible-to-read Headmaster. I shouldn’t have looked back, I realised, but it was too late for that, so before he could see the blush in my cheeks again, I slipped from the room, pulling the door shut behind me.

I stopped for a moment, leaning back against the closed door. Alone again, I could let myself smile like the giddy school girl I had been trying to hide. In the end, I was happy I didn’t back out of it. Incredible didn’t really quantify how good, and how naughty, I felt. I didn’t even mind the pain.

#rembrandt #willem v. rembrandt #wizardess heart #wizardess heart fanfic #shall we date #shall we date wizardess heart

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tippytoe-creepin · 5 years

Text

Firefly

Part four

It’s been two months since El last saw or heard from Gunner. Her life has been a spiral of things slowly going back to the way it was with Jack. The crisp fall air blew through El as she continued to walk down the street, headed back to Jack’s apartment before he got back from work with groceries in hand. Pulling up her giant scarf up to cover her nose as the wind picked up again, blowing the dead leaves around the side walk. Passing by a store with Halloween decorations up, she glanced them remembering how Halloween was a giant holiday to her dad.

He always had to beg Lilith to dress up as for El, who was overly excited to get dressed up and get free candy. El’s dad always made a big deal out of it, always going all out with decorations and bake goods to pass out to the neighborhood kids. As their mother always stayed late at the office, which meant Lilith had no choice, but to go along with it.

“Oh! I’m so sorry-“ El said snapping her out of her thoughts as she run into a stranger knocking her groceries out of her hand and onto the ground. “It’s okay. Let me help you with it.” The guy said as they both were kneeled down picking up the bags. ‘Why does he sound familiar?’ El asked herself as she stood up. The man handed her, her groceries, “You should be more careful Sweets.”

El’s eyes widen a little as her eyes met Gunner’s. A small smile crossed both their faces as they stood.

“How have you been?” El asked quietly, studying Gunner’s deep brown eyes. “You know, the same old shit.” He smiled big at her. She could feel her cheeks getting warm, luckily for her. Her face was already flushed from being cold. “How have you been? Keepin’ out of trouble?”

El nodded, “The best I can.”

The last time they spoke, Gunner called on a night when Jack was out of town for a week. They stayed in the phone for hours which led to Gunner stopping by the day after. They spent the entire day together talking about the city, Jack and his family, and got to know each other a little more.

“That’s good to hear Sweets...” Gunner’s voice trailed off. “Are you doin’ anything on Halloween?” He asked catching El off guard. “Uhh, Jack said something about going to his friends party or something?”

“Michael’s?” Gunner asked. El cocked her head at him, “Yeah....?”

“I’ll be there with a few friends. Better not be shy and say hi.” He winked before taking a step away from her, “I’ll see you then.” He continued as he turned around and headed down the street. ‘How does he know Michael?’ El asked herself. Shaking off the thought she hurried home.

The wind began to pick up as it started to rain. Setting the table for her and Jack to eat. She heard the door shut. “Diners almost ready!” El called to Jack. No answer. “Jay, did you hear me?” El called again. Still no answer. El peaked her head out of the kitchen and around the the corner seeing no one there. ‘Maybe I’m hearing things?’ She thought to herself returning to the stoves. Turning off the fire she dumped the mixed veggies into a medium size bowel and she pulled the other food out of the oven before taking it to the table. Set it up, she heard foot steps leading to the front door. It slowly opened as Jack appeared.

“Diners-“

“I already ate. I’m going to bed, I gotta be up early. I’m leaving for the week again, and I’ll be back before Michael’s party next Friday.” Jack said as he threw his stuff on the floor. El remained silent as Jack passed her and headed towards their bedroom. Slightly jumping as he slammed the door shut and hearing him lock it. She sighed as she made her way to the front door locking it before returning to the table to eat. Leaning over, El reached for her phone that was in her purse. Unlocking her phone she saw she had a text.

‘Hey Sweets, it was nice running into you today.’

Smiling, El replied before locking her phone and began to eat dinner.

—————————————————————

Hours have passed as she laid on the couch. Half listening to the news on the tv.

The dishes still sat on the table, too tired to clean them swearing she’ll clean them tomorrow, but always praying Jack won’t notice them still sitting out. She started to drift off to sleep, as her phone started to ring. Slowly reaching for her phone, she pulled it close to her face reading who it was.

“Hello?” She answered, a little confused and a little too happy. “Wow you’re up this late?” Gunner teased. “Oh you know, just gotta catch up on the news.” El said quietly. “I was wonderin’ if you wanted to get lunch tomorrow?”

El sat there stunned that he even asked, she was hesitant. Would anyone Jack knows see them together? Does she want to risk that? Can she handle the repercussions if Jack found out? “Don’t sweat it if you don’t want too. I’d hate to see anything happen to you Sweets.” Gunner said snapping El back. “N-no, it’s okay. Uhm yeah.. I would love too.”

“It’s a date, I’ll see you then.” Gunner laughed before hanging up on El.

Pulling her blanket up to her face, El began to blush. ‘Get it together Elthel! It’s not a date!’ El thought to herself as her face got even more red and her heart skipped. Placing her phone back on the coffee table, she turned her attention back to the tv as the news reporter continued talking about some nonsense. Slowly she started to drift off to sleep.

—————————————————————

El rolled over, falling off the couch as the morning sun blinded her. She grown in pain as she slowly sat up, pulling the blanket around her. She looked towards her bedroom seeing the door open and Jack gone, she sighed in relief. El pulled her off the floor and headed towards her bedroom to find clothes for the day. Walking into the closet, she noticed Jack’s side of the closet was completely empty. Taking a step back while processing everything El turned and made her way to their shared dresser. Pulling every drawer open revealing all his stuff gone. She felt a sense of panic as she back up and landed on the bed.

Apart of her felt guilty from being relieved, but the other was heartbroken at the fact that he just dropped her like she was nothing. She got back to her feet as she glanced at Jack’s alarm clock. ‘It’s almost noon?!’ She panicked even more. Rushing back into the closet she pulled out a pair of black jeans and an oversized sweater. Slipping it on, she pulled her long hair up into a messy bun. Hearing her phone ring, she sprinted to it and answered, “Hello?”

“Are you okay? You’re out of breath?” Gunner asked. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, “Yeah I’m fine!” She said.

“Alright.. well I’m out front Sweets.”

El made her way to the dining room window, and glanced down at Gunner as he was leaning against his car. Wearing old worn jeans and a leather jacket. “Alright I’ll be done in a minute.” El answered as she watched him look up to meet her gaze. Both dropping their arm to their sides as they hung up. Gunner waved up at her and flashed her his famous killer smile.

Slightly blushing, El moved away from the window while slipping on her jean jacket and grabbed her purse on the way out.

#mine #orginal writing #orginal work #part four #writer #creative wrting #writeaway #writing #writeblr #writers #love #long reads #short story

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