#(its mostly just me screaming in tags but shhhh look away)

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

ADDICTED

Character/Fandom: Austin Butler (Incubus!Austin)

Requested: sorta kinda maybe

Prompt: It's all so wrong, so bad, so sinful. Even so, you want him. You crave him. You need him. You are utterly and completely ADDICTED to him, perhaps even at the cost of your soul. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Pretty rough sex 💀 a variety of BDSM stuff (choking, biting, spanking, etc.), pain and discomfort for the reader, mentions of death/demon stuff/other demonic symbols and themes, overstimulation, blood, degradation.

Just be careful reading this if, like me, you were instilled with an unhealthy dose of Catholic fear starting from a young age lmfao

Rating: M ||   Word Count: 7017

A/N: okay so this is a bit fat sin 😅 Just a quick FYI to always have a safe word with your sexual partners and keep checking in for consent, especially if you're gonna fuck like this 💀 also probably DONT engage an incubus IRL just...this is for fun pls don't go off and like summon a demon hoping it's gonna be austin cause...lmao

Part one of the Supernatural Series. See all three parts by checking out my #SupernaturalSeries tag.

🦋 mila

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You stir, a pleasurable sensation swirling around in your stomach. You moan and bite your lip, curling the bedsheets into your fingers. Your heat throbs with pleasure and desire as you feel something, although you can’t see what, circling rhythmically around your core. The waves of pleasure are growing and growing, sending you toward the top of a pleasure-filled mountain. You jerk awake with a yawn.

Your eyes start to flutter open and you tilt your head as you see a dark black figure in front of you. You blink, trying to adjust to the darkness of your bedroom. Sucking in a breath, you yelp and scramble up onto your bum. You scoot away from the dark figure as quickly as you can. Your chest heaves as it stares back at you with black eyes.

Your fingers drop down to its long black claw where you can just barely see what looks like your favorite pair of panties hanging off the nail. The pair of panties you put on before climbing into bed tonight.

As you open your mouth to scream, the figure is suddenly straddling your lap, its hand clamped tightly around your mouth. What little voice you have left vanishes and you fall completely silent. When you try to speak, nothing comes out. You’re frozen under its touch and you don’t know what’s going on or what it even is. You can feel your body trembling under its touch, shaking with the intense fear pumping through your veins.

You close your eyes for a moment, praying that when you reopen them, you’ll be somewhere safer, away from whatever vile creature this thing is. No such luck. It’s still there, staring at you and holding you hostage. You try to move but find your body frozen under its touch.

“Shhhh,” it says in a deep, raspy voice. “Don’t be afraid, darling. I’ll take good care of you. Just relax.”

It raises a finger to its lips and hushes a quiet “shh” before releasing its grasp on your mouth and returning to its position down between your legs. You take a moment to observe its figure.

It’s a large, menacing form, tall and extremely well-built with rippling muscles. It looks like some sort of humanoid bird being. Its black hair glistens in the moonlight, mostly pushed back off its forehead with a small portion flopping down into his face. Now that you have a closer look at the eyes, you can see that they aren’t just black. They have deep, dark red pupils that glimmer eerily in the darkness of night. You can still sense your body gently shaking with fear.

It feels like the eyes are pouring into your soul, glaring into your very essence with terrifying power. Your gaze travels up its head and locks onto two curled horns protruding from its skull at the top of its head. As it straightens, you can also see that it has two small, feathery black wings outstretched from its back. They rest, half-opened, against its skin which is covered in black tattoos or markings of some sort. You don’t recognize any of the symbols, but they look sinister, evil. Based on what you’ve seen, you assume it’s a male of…whatever it is, although you can’t be sure.

“W-what are you?” you ask in between shaky breaths. “What do you want with me?”

You suck in a breath as the being smiles, his sharp pointed teeth shining a blinding white in the darkness. A red forked tongue darts out and circles around one of the two large fangs. He smirks and chuckles, a deep, sinister sound that makes your stomach flip.

“I am what you crave,” he replies with a tilt of his head.

“What the fuck does that mean? Answer me straight,” you say firmly although your heart is beating a thousand miles a minute.

“I think you can guess it. Let’s play a game, shall we?”

You shake your head, the fear rising in your chest. Whenever creepy characters in horror movies suggest a game, they’re really asking if you’re prepared to die.

“No, I don’t want to play. Please just leave me alone.”

“Tut-tut,” he clicks its tongue and holds up a long black finger. “It’s an easy game. You just have to guess what I am. I’ll give you a hint. I prefer my victims asleep.”

You shake your head, closing your eyes and again begging to be transported from this place.

From what little you know from Halloween movies and such, you’re pretty sure that this…thing is a demon of some sort. But why is he haunting you and why hasn’t he just possessed you already? You don’t remember the little girl from The Exorcist having a conversation with the demon before it flew into her body. And why was he holding your panties????

You clutch your legs together upon remembering that your pussy is totally and completely out there for this demon creature to see. You gulp and reopen your eyes to look at him. He’s staring back at you, his black and red eyes shining terrifyingly through the darkness.

“How about another hint, hm?” he says. “You won’t be able to resist my touch after you’ve had it.”

You suck in a sharp breath as his fingers crawl up your thigh. You can't understand how, though, since he remains too far away to physically touch you and he hasn't moved even enough to lift his arm.

Despite your best efforts to resist, your heat spikes with a throbbing sensation and you clamp your legs tighter as if that will somehow stop the invisible hands that are crawling up your skin.

“Come, darling. Guess. I insist.”

You gulp and think through his clues again. Demon, asleep, resisting his touch? You wrack your brain trying to understand and just when you’re opening your mouth to guess, it hits you. Your eyes widen and you shakily reply, hoping desperately that you’re wrong.

“A demon.”

“Oh come now. We can do better than that. What sort of demon am I? Say it. You're a smart girl. I know you’ve guessed.”

You gulp and shake your head, avoiding his eyes. You open your mouth to respond but find your gaze drawn back to him. You try to rip it away, but you physically can’t resist peering back into his eyes. They’re horrifyingly evil but somehow captivating and enchanting in ways you can’t describe or understand.

“An incubus.”

“Ah, good girl,” he replies, flashing his teeth again. “Since you know what I am, then you understand what I want with you. And now you will get your reward.”

You feel the sensation of his fingers again and your heart slams faster against your chest. You scoot your body back again, as far as you can against the frame of the bed, and shake your head vehemently. His figure starts to move forward, wings flapping as his palms curl down into the soft bed and he crawls up toward you. You thrust a hand out, your open palm pointed toward him.

“No, stop! Stop!” you shout, waving your hand.

To your surprise, he pauses, lifting his gaze to yours.

“W-what should I call you?” you ask.

He tilts his head, his black eyebrows quirking. His eyes slowly drag up and down your figure and he nods.

“I don't see the need for such a thing, particularly since my true infernal name cannot be uttered on human lips. But you may call me whatever you’d like.”

You nod with furrowed eyebrows. You sigh as your brain turns around a number of names that you could call him. One suddenly jumps out at you.

“Austin. It was my first crush’s name,” you say, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth at the memory of little blonde-haired Austin from kindergarten.

“Austin it is, then. This will be much better for you if you relax.”

His fingers, surprisingly gently, pry your legs open and he crawls between them. You allow him to move your body even though your heart is aching tremendously with fear. He tilts his head as he stares into your eyes, one of his long fingers tracing the skin of your inner thigh. Your leg twitches and his hand curves around your thigh, harshly holding it in place. You wince at the slight pain of the tips of his claws digging into your skin.

“Don’t move,” he growls, shaking his head.

You curl the bedsheets into your fingers as he uses your leg to drag you down onto your back. He moves to straddle your body and grabs ahold of both of your wrists. He lifts them over your head and pins them down firmly with one of his large hands. You wriggle momentarily under his touch, terrified by the thought of being trapped by him. Even though he moves his hand away, you find that you’re unable to shift your arms. Your heart begins to beat faster and your breath catches in your throat as you struggle against whatever magical restraints he’s put you in. You grimace at the sudden pain, like rope burn, on your wrists. But there is no rope. How is this happening?

Austin straightens himself and smirks down at you, flicking his pointer finger up. Your eyes widen as you watch the sharpened black claw grow larger and longer. He lifts his chin as he lowers his finger down to your throat. Your breath catches in your throat again and you squeeze your eyes shut, anticipating intense pain when his claw pierces through your skin. He gently scratches it down your throat and onto your collarbone. You release a relieved breath as he hooks it onto the top of the t-shirt you’re sleeping in. You open your eyes to see him staring at you. He slowly starts to draw his finger down your shirt, his claw acting like a sharpened razor blade as it tears easily through the cotton fabric.

You gasp, wriggling against the invisible restraints with an overwhelming urge to cover yourself. But you can’t move. All you can do is watch as he rips a line straight down your shirt, which falls to the sides of your body. You clamp your legs together in embarrassment but he pushes them open again, the claws digging into your thighs.

“Stop squirming. Let me look at you,” he growls, holding your legs open.

You whimper but keep your eyes trained on him as he observes your naked body. Taking his claw again, he starts by the edge of your mouth and draws his finger down the side of your face, onto your neck and throat, down your chest, and circles it around one of your nipples. You suck in a breath. You can feel it hardening to attention with the combination of his haunting touch and the cold air. You gulp as your gut begins to turn with the movement of his finger ghosting across your stomach. He trails his touch down your leg again, drawing tiny circles on your inner thigh. You wriggle under him, your pussy beginning to throb and swell with desire. You bite your lip and release a strained breath as he pushes your thighs up to position himself near your heat.

You watch with horror as he draws one of his fingers across your folds. You bite down hard on your lip to refrain from making any noises of pleasure, although his touch feels divine. He runs his finger over the folds again and bites down harder, averting his eyes. Without even touching you, he pulls your gaze back to his. Your chin rotates back to his face against your will.

“Look at me while I touch you.”

Too terrified to disobey, you follow his command. Your hips jerk back as he presses one of his claws between your folds. You squeeze your eyes shut momentarily with the sudden pain of his pointed claw invading your body. It burns and stings, but after a few moments, the pain subsides and you can feel your gut spinning in circles as it begs for more friction. He removes his finger and reinserts it, pumping in and out of you agonizingly slowly. You bite down hard on your lip and taste the metallic tang of blood in your mouth.

Austin chuckles deeply, evilly, before lowering his head down to your heat. You yelp as you watch a long red forked tongue dart out from behind his teeth and swipe a wet strip up your folds. He chuckles again, wrapping his claws around your thighs and hoisting you up toward his mouth. His tongue darts out again, swiping up and down your pussy and adding more juices to your wetness. You grip with white knuckles onto the bedsheets, resisting every urge you have to moan in pleasure. But you can’t hold out for long when he reinserts three fingers into your pussy as his tongue circles expertly around your clit.

You accidentally release a moan and Austin snarls against you. He curls his fingers up inside of you and you yelp in pain. The way the forked tongue manages to stimulate both sides of your clit simultaneously makes the pleasure that much better and, combined with the pain of his claws scratching the walls of your pussy, instinctual moans and groans begin to slip from your lips, one after the other. He pumps his fingers into you mercilessly, his knuckles slamming against the inside of your thighs with every thrust. He glares up at you with gleaming red eyes.

When he sucks on your clit, you somehow manage to yank your wrists away from the invisible restraints. Without even really meaning to, your fingers find their way to his horns, curling around them. He growls into you and you flex your toes into the bedsheets. Your fingers absentmindedly trail up and down his horns, similar to how you would touch his dick, as you pull his tongue against your pussy to wherever you need to feel him.

“Don’t touch,” he hisses but his actions just make you grip harder onto his horns. “Naughty girl.”

You know it should be alarming and scary, but you somehow find him irresistibly sexy. It starts to hit you how illegal, how sinful it all is. And that only makes you feel dirtier, like you want to be punished by him, disrespected by him. As if he could read your mind, your vision suddenly grows black. You gasp, scratching at his horns but he just growls onto you. You suddenly begin to feel the walls of your pussy clenching on his fingers, but he doesn’t let up at all. Somehow, he manages to pump you faster as his tongue darts madly around your clit. With nothing else to focus on anymore, every feeling he elicits feels ten times as stimulating.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeat in a strained voice as you orgasm under his touch.

You grip harshly onto his horns but you no longer have the power to move him. Your arms are frozen, outstretched onto him as he licks you clean. All you can do is buck your hips up again and again with each wave of pleasure. He pulls away with a growl, your vision still black. You blink into darkness and one of his hands intertwines with yours. You feel his fingers on your lips.

“Clean it,” he commands and you obey, swirling your tongue around his fingers and tasting your salty, metallic juices on his skin. “Good girl. Now you can have your sight back.”

You blink as the blackness starts to recede from your eyes. After a sigh of relief, your breath catches in your throat. Without even moving, Austin’s pants are stripped away and you can see his figure fully. Your mouth pops open with shock as you take in his dick. It’s extremely long and very girthy; the most impressive dick you’ve ever seen. The tip is especially pointed, not sharp but close to it. And you can see a texture to him that human men don’t have, almost as if his dick itself is ribbed. You gulp.

“Turn around, on your hands and knees.”

You shakily obey him, flipping around onto your hands and knees. He gives you no time to adjust, harshly pulling you backward on the bed. You yelp with surprise and wince as his claws dig into your skin. He forcefully pushes the top half of your body down onto the bed and pulls your wrists behind your back, securing them there with the same invisible restraints that he’d used earlier. You turn your head on the bed so you can breathe. You can just barely see his face as he smirks down at you, his white fangs gleaming in the darkness of the room.

He spreads your legs, sliding his open palm down your back and across your ass. He circles it around to your pussy and gives it a light slap. You jolt forward, gasping in surprise. He snickers and clutches his fingers into your ass cheeks, his claws digging into the skin.

You feel your back arching as you anticipate the pleasurable feeling of his dick inside you. His hand slips from your skin and brutally slaps against your ass. You yelp and your eyes fly open. As you try your best to glance over your shoulder at him, he spanks you again, even harder this time. You bite your lip, knowing that you’ll have a big red mark on your ass tomorrow.

“You like being punished, don’t you, dirty slut?”

You moan at his words, arching your back more. He spanks your pussy again and you quiver under his touch. He hums in approval and brings his leaking tip up to your folds. You grind back against him as he brushes your pussy again with his dick.

“You want me to fuck you hard, huh, fucking whore?”

You gasp. No one’s ever spoken to you like that, but, then again, you’ve never had sex with a demon before. Although the words surprise you, they also make your stomach churn with delight. You moan in response.

“Yeah…”

“Yeah, what?”

“Yeah, I want you to fuck me.”

You yelp again as he spanks you for the third time. Your body quivers with the pain and you bite your lip hard and wait for him to enter you.

“Try again, bitch. What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck me, master,” you say, cringing at your own words.

Even though you might have felt awkward uttering them, he definitely approves, because the next thing you know, his dick is slamming into your tight folds. You cry out with the sudden sensation. Your fingers curl behind your back as he burns your insides. His dick stings against your walls and you find yourself desperately searching for breath, your chest growing tight.

You pull against the restraints and your hands break free. They fall onto the bed and you lift yourself up, trying to breathe through the pain. Austin’s hand circles around your neck and he holds your head gently upright. His other hand snakes around your waist, holding you steady. One of your hands moves back to rest on his forearm. Your fingers flutter at the feeling of feathers on his arm. You hadn’t noticed them before, but they’re extremely soft and well-kept. He flinches momentarily under your touch and you wonder if you’ve done something wrong or too…intimate.

“You’re fine. Just breathe," he mutters into your ear.

You close your eyes and, with his help, take a few deep breaths as the pain subsides. You release his arm and your hand falls back to the bed. Interestingly, you don’t notice any difference in your sex drive. You still desperately and madly want to get fucked by Austin. As such, it’s not hard for you to settle into a rhythm as he begins to slide in and out of you. You’d been right, his dick is ribbed and as your pussy walls clench around his thrusts, you revel in the feeling of his textured member.

Once he starts to find his tempo, your body responds. You jerk your hips back against him, moving in circles around his thrusts. His hand returns to your neck and his fingers curl around your throat, digging into the sensitive skin. You choke for a second before you adjust to him. When he squeezes your throat, you moan loudly and thrust your hips back against him. You feel his hot breath on your neck and whimper, biting your lip.

He drags his wet lips against your skin and then swipes his tongue over your shoulder. You moan in response, his fingers still wrapped around your throat. He squeezes at the same time that he thrusts into you and bites down hard on your shoulder. You cry out, your body teetering forward with the overstimulation. His teeth are sharp. You feel an aching soreness as he bites down at your skin, humming deeply against it.

His hips slam against your backside as he thrusts in and out of you, the air filled with the sounds of your bodies meshing together. Your moans start to come faster now as you feel yourself approaching your orgasm. With his fingers around your throat, it’s harder and harder to breathe but it just makes the sensations even more evocative. Austin growls deeply in your ear as his movements start to become sloppier. You can feel the strength of your arms giving out as your elbows buckle under your weight.

Austin’s hand releases from your throat and he forcefully shoves his fingers into your mouth. You moan against them, sucking and biting on the tips with what little strength you have left. He rams into you from behind, his hand clutching the skin of your waist hard. His fingers start to pierce your skin and you wince against his hands, opening your mouth.

His fingers fall from your tongue and immediately cup around your breast as he hisses into your ear. Your body starts to shake with too much stimulation. You shudder under him and he growls deeply into your ear. Your whole body is jarred with the force of his thrusts into you. His movements slow to a stop and he pauses, breathing heavily over your shoulder.

Your body quivers as you slowly come down from your high. You can feel your legs shaking violently with the intense pleasure and pain you’ve just experienced. You wheeze breaths, the stimulation so overwhelming that you’re fighting back tears. You feel his hand as it pushes on your back and he exits you. You wince as you draw your legs up underneath your body and gingerly roll onto your back. You whimper with the soreness in your pussy and take a few minutes to slow your breathing before sitting up. You glance over at him and see his back turned to you as he reassembles himself. He says nothing and you bring your knees into your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly dirty and disgusting for what you’ve done.

You suck in a deep inhale as your fingers fly onto the skin of your shoulder. You squeeze your arm tightly as a stinging pain ricochets through the muscle. It feels like the same sensation when you’ve accidentally touched yourself with a hair straightener or curling iron. After a few moments, the pain finally subsides and you release a sigh of relief. With your fingertip, you trace the area and feel a section of raised skin in a pattern you can’t identify.

Moving quickly, you stumble off the bed and run toward the mirror above your dresser. You fumble for the light switch and flick it on frantically. You thrust your shoulder forward and gasp when you see what’s happened to it. There’s a small red scar on the skin in the shape of a pentagram. You grimace as your finger brushes against it. It stings to the touch as if it’s been burned into your skin.

“It’s the mark of Satan,” Austin says dryly and you turn to see him sitting on the edge of your bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

“What? What the fuck are you talking about? I’m marked by Satan?” you hiss, stepping toward him.

“It will fade with time. It’s just there as punishment because you willingly engaged in one of the seven deadly sins. Lust.”

You curl your fingers into fists at the calm way he relays the information as if there’s nothing out of the ordinary about this situation. As if it’s completely normal and not at all concerning that you’re literally marked by the devil for your actions. As if it’s not damning to your soul and sending you into a moral frenzy and panic.

“But, I…I can’t be…I can’t…”

“Don’t worry, human,” he says, standing.

Your eyes float up to meet him and your mouth pops open with surprise at how tall he is. He must be at least six feet if not more. You gulp under his demanding gaze and, as you stare up into his eyes, you realize that they’re actually more dark blue than black.

“It won’t tarnish your soul just yet. You have to make a habit of it for that to happen. And that’s not a choice you get to make. I’ll be the one to decide what happens to your soul after tonight.”

You sigh frustratedly and cross your arms over your chest. You have a million more questions that need to be answered and you’re starting to wonder if you’ve been taken advantage of. Although part of you feels like you should regret what you’ve done, you can’t bring yourself to feel any guilt about it at all. And when you think through the situation, you know that you would have done the same thing had you gotten the chance to redo it all.

You close your eyes, running your fingers over your face and formulating an answer to his comment. But when you open your eyes again, ready to respond, he’s gone, completely vanished. You rush toward the window, peering outside and glancing both ways down one side of the street and then the other. Nothing. You throw open the doors to your closet, desperately searching for him, but find nothing. Plopping on your bed, you curl into the sheets and angrily pull them close to your chin. Clutching them in your fingers, you squeeze your eyes shut and beg for sleep.

Although you probably should have heeded Austin’s warning that night, over the next few days you find yourself yearning for more, for his touch. You find yourself missing his presence and hoping, almost wishing that he would return. At night, you can barely fall asleep. When you close your eyes, you think about him. When you touch yourself in the dark, it can't compare to the pleasure you’d experienced when Austin visited you that fateful night. Doing your daily tasks is agonizing and monotonous and you're growing more frustrated with your human existence.

It's like, after Austin’s visit, everything in you craves him and only him. You can't experience anything quite the same. It's all a disappointment to you, everything comes up short.

You’d figured that Austin wouldn’t be visiting you again. All the research you’ve done on incubi, however conflicting or nonconclusive, pointed to the fact that most incubi only visit a human victim once in their lifetime before moving on to a fresh one. That experience would have to be filed away and you have to find a way to move on from it or you're going to combust. You’re beginning to wonder if he’s even real…

Until it happens again. He comes again, scaring you half to fucking death as he drops in through the window. At first, you think it’s a dream, that there’s no possible way he could be back in your bedroom again. But when he touches you and reminds you why you’ve missed him so much, you realize that those sensations are very, very real. And they continue to somehow be real each time he visits you from then on.

Although his visits are sporadic and inconsistent, he manages to fit you into his busy demon schedule every few weeks. At the most, he makes you wait three weeks before he returns to you again. You never know when to expect him so whenever he chooses to arrive, he usually gives you a pretty good scare.

Like this afternoon, for instance. You jerk awake at the sound of knocking on your window and laugh when you see Austin waiting on the other side. You hop down from your bed and let him in. He’s never visited you during the day before, but you’re certainly not complaining. You let him into your bedroom and he smiles sweetly down at you.

Somehow, he’s even more beautiful in the warm sunlight. His black feathers are glinting almost blue in the light and you can also now be sure that his eyes are blue and not black. You walk back toward the bed and climb under the covers, beckoning him to join you.

He follows your lead and pulls you into his grasp. You nestle into his warm chest with your eyes closed and your fingers intertwined. One of his warm hands is gently caressing your head and stroking your hair rhythmically. You hum contentedly as the sun shines through the window and onto your bodies. You open your eyes and stare up at him to see him glancing softly down at you with the hint of a smile on his face.

Your eyes fly open when you hear your window pane slamming against the wall. A cold breeze follows and you sit quickly up in bed, clutching the comforter to your chest. You release a sigh of relief when you see Austin climbing, more like floating, through the window. Brushing your disheveled hair back, you realize that your experience with Austin in the sunlight was all a dream. It had felt so unbelievably real...but it was all just a dream. You shake yourself back into reality as you wait for Austin to assume his normal place at the foot of your bed.

“Jesus, Austin, you scared me.”

To your surprise, he climbs right into the bed next to you and lays down on his back, bending his elbow behind his head. You don’t know exactly what’s going on since Austin has never done this before. You freeze and watch as Austin’s wings dissolve back into his skin, something that you’ve seen him do when he's preparing to lie down.

“You’re too much of a scaredy cat, Flower,” he says and you smile at his use of a nickname.

You can’t stop yourself from giggling even though you raise your fingers to your mouth to stop the noise from escaping. Unfortunately, Austin notices and his head turns in your direction. He sits up, propping one of his elbows onto his knee.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. How come you called me flower?”

You watch in silence as Austin’s head tilts and his eyes drop from yours, circling around your bedroom. He’s trying to formulate his answer. You hadn’t meant to laugh. It’s just such a sweet and innocent word to come out of the mouth of a demon that it’d caught you off-guard. You weren’t expecting it at all.

“I don’t know very much about humans, but I heard once that they consider flowers to be beautiful, and so I decided to call you flower since I cannot speak your real name. Do humans not consider flowers beautiful, anymore? We don’t really have the concept of beauty in hell. It’s difficult for me to tell.”

“No, they still do. We consider flowers to be very beautiful. I love it,” you say with a smile.

You reach out to place your hand on top of his. You can feel his fingers twitch underneath your touch but he doesn’t pull away. As your mind catches up with what he’s said, you realize that he’s never actually called you…anything. He's really never had any need to address you by name but you didn’t know it was because he can’t.

“I didn’t know you couldn’t use my name,” you say. “Why is that?”

Austin glances back up at you, his eyes flicking from your left to your right eye. You watch his decorated chest as it rises and falls silently with deep sighs.

“We…incubi are not permitted to establish relations with their victims,” Austin says, dropping your gaze. “We are expected to feed on a victim and then progress to another the next night and another the next. We may return to victims that fed us well, but not more than three times. As such, there is no need for us to learn their names. Most incubi don’t even spend enough time with their victims to think about their names. For me to address you by your name would be too…too…”

“Intimate,” you suggest as you try to ignore the pang of grief in your heart.

He says nothing in response but returns to your gaze once again. You gulp under his eyes as he holds you captive. Your heart slams against your chest but not with the usual desire. You want to kiss him; not because you want to feel him inside of you, but because you want him to hold you. You want him to love you, somehow, even though you know a creature like him is incapable of the very thing. Austin lies back down and heaves another sigh.

“Lie with me,” he commands and you straighten your legs to lie down on your back.

Silence falls between you as you both relax in silence, faces pointed up toward the ceiling. You gulp and glance over at Austin through your peripherals. He’s lying perfectly still, his chest rising and falling consistently. You clear your throat.

“Do you need to eat?” you ask expectantly.

“I already fed,” Austin responds and your heart thumps louder in your chest.

The sole purpose of him visiting you is so that he can feed on your sex. The only way he can survive from one day to the next is by having sex with sleeping women. Although his more recent visits have involved more conversation than the first ones, his main objective is always to feed from you first. And he always does, every time, even though now he tends to stay with you until you fall asleep afterward. But if he’s already fed tonight…why would he visit you? He has no reason to be here.

“Do you know what I remember most about the first night I visited you?” he suddenly asks and you shake your head into the darkness. “I saw you at the library while I was scouring for potential victims. You were all alone, reading quietly by yourself, and I thought you would be the perfect partner. I knew I could persuade you easily but you did something that surprised me that night. You asked what you should call me.”

You chuckle quietly.

“Well, yeah of course I did. That’s a normal thing to do when you meet someone for the first time.”

“Not for something like me,” he says quietly. “No one has ever asked me that question before. None of my victims have ever asked for my name before.”

Your smile quickly fades and you turn your head to glance at him. He’s still staring straight up at the ceiling,  although his chest is moving more quickly now than it was a moment ago. Your heart pangs with pity for him and you gently reach your fingers forward to grab onto his. His hand recoils from yours at first but you persist, shoving your fingers through his. He accepts it although he doesn’t make any movement to hold you back. His fingers remain awkwardly straight.

“You know I had a dream about you,” you say and his head finally turns to look at you. “Yeah, we were here in the bedroom but it was daytime. The warm sunlight was shining and you came in through the window like you always do. And you just sort of swooped me up into your arms and pulled me close. We were cuddling and just holding each other and talking in the sunlight. Your feathers were blue and so were your eyes and you were so…beautiful.”

You don’t miss the sharp intake of breath that Austin takes after you say the word. No one has probably ever called him that before. A few moments of silence pass in which you and Austin stare at each other in the darkness.

“I don't have dreams. And that doesn’t sound like me,” he says as the corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk. “Although some demons claim to have visited their human victims in dreams.”

“Oh really? Did you pay me a visit earlier?”

A few moments of silence pass before Austin responds.

“No.”

You giggle and shake your head, pretty sure that maybe he did visit you in your dreams this evening. You roll onto your side and rest your head on Austin’s chest. You can feel his muscles stiffen as you do so and pause.

“Is this alright?” you ask.

Again, silence falls between you and you start to move away when Austin speaks.

“Yes.”

You nestle into his chest and your fingers happen to fall on one of the markings on his chest. You close your eyes and absentmindedly begin to trace around the marking. They are raised on his skin just as the pentagrams are on your skin after you feed him. You lean up and examine one of the markings.

“What does this mean?” you ask, gesturing to a snake curled around itself in a circle.

“It’s a uroboros, a snake eating itself. It symbolizes infinity and reminds us that demons have eternal life as long as we serve our master.”

You nod, gulping at the thought. It’s so easy to forget, even with his devilish appearance, that Austin is one of them, a demon, and that he serves the Satan.

“What about this one?” you ask, tracing another marking that looks like a widened star.

“A unicursal hexagram, a six-pointed star which symbolizes magic and spirituality. Although the human association with these things is generally positive, demons have been taught how to utilize them in the service of our master. We can pervert them and use their power against victims like you.”

You nod, even though his words are a little concerning. You point to another marking that looks familiar to you.

“An alligator head.”

“What does it mean?”

“Nothing. It just looks badass.”

You laugh and trace the design again with fondness. As your fingertip trails to the left, it crosses over something different than the other markings. It’s less like a tattoo and more like a burn scar, similar to the pentagrams that are left on your shoulder after Austin feeds on you. You circle it again and your smile fades.

“What’s this?” you ask, glancing up at Austin.

His lips are flat and his nostrils flared angrily. You gulp, worried that you’ve upset him. He breathes deeply twice before responding.

“A punishment.”

“Punishment? For what?”

Austin’s eyes raise to meet yours and he holds your gaze for a moment. Although you know anyone else would be terrified of his face, you find a softness in it that you adore. You feel strangely safe with him, despite the evil expression that rests on his horrific features.

“For returning to you. I was commanded to avoid you, to stay away and move on to another victim but I…”

His words move your body before your brain can catch up. You raise your hand to his cheek, turning his face toward yours. Surprisingly, he allows you to manipulate him, even though he’s normally the one in charge. Your eyes flick down to his lips and then back to his eyes. He doesn’t move when you lunge forward to press your lips to his. But within a matter of seconds, his lips are moving in time with yours and his arms are curling around your frame to pull you close. You sigh into the kiss as he tilts his head to reach you better. You pull back and open your eyes to look at him. You find him already gazing at you with lazy, half-opened eyes. You can’t imagine you’re right, but it’s possible that a small tear is gathering in the corner of Austin’s eye. You smile and scoot down to nestle into his chest again.

“Goodnight, Austin. Sleep well and maybe I’ll see you in my dreams tonight,” you say, closing your eyes.

Just before you fall asleep, you feel Austin’s arms wind around your figure and pull you close to his body. He sighs long and hard and then you feel his soft lips on the top of your head.

“Goodnight, my Flower. I’ll see you soon.”

When you wake up the next morning, you’ve rolled to the complete opposite side of the bed and the sun is shining brightly into your eyes. You blink them open slowly and yawn, sitting up in bed. You rub the sleep from your eyes and glance around you. Austin is gone and, as you often do, you momentarily wonder if last night actually happened or if it was just a dream. You glance down at your shoulder but see no pentagram there. You remember that Austin didn’t feed from you the night before and sigh sadly. Your gaze happens to fall on your nightstand and a smile spreads across your face. You reach over and lift up a freshly picked bright yellow marigold. You spin it in front of you and bite your lip.

He had been there. It was all real. He was real.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

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[whumpywhumper]

Leaf--Part 2

See part one: here 

Edit: Falling; Leaf Part 3

Thank you @0idril0 for always listening to me bitch! Go check out her latest installment in the Nico Series: Before 7-Sleep It’s awesome!

Gonna go ahead and tag the people who appeared interested in a continuation. Let me know if you wanna be removed for future parts cause there’s gonna be more, I’m loving Leaf 🍃

@castielamigos  @whumping-every-day  @graniteswhump

*******

“Em! EM!” Annabelle and Marie’s feet pattered into the house at a clumsy run, their slippers slapping against the wooden floor. 

“What have I told you two about running in the house?” she called, not bothering to leave her workstation. The children didn’t slow down, and she rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to straining her tinctures. 

The children took seconds to make it to Emilia’s apothecary room, Annabelle stumbling into the room in front of their littlest sister, tossing her brown hair out of her face. Emilia raised her eyebrow at the flustered look on her youthful features. 

“Em! I need your help!” 

Annabelle cradled something in one of her small hands, the other hovering over it, keeping her little sister from touching it. “Emmie! Make her let me see!” Marie tugged at her sleeve with the full pout to her lips that she only got when she was being truly obstinate. 

“No! Em, he’s hurt! She was making it worse!” Annabelle wrenched her arm out of her sister’s grasp, making the younger child stumble to the floor and land with a thump on her buttocks.  “Stop it, Marie!” 

Emilia suppressed the urge to roll her eyes but it was beyond even God’s power to stop the sigh that escaped when baby Marie started bawling. “Oh, the joys of sisterhood,” she thought. 

She abandoned her work, knowing that she wouldn’t get anything done until she’d satisfied them. “What do you have Annabelle? Bring it here.” Her middle sister was always bringing small animals to her, a sparrow with a broken wing, a field mouse with a wounded tail. Once, she brought a bobcat kit that’s paw had been snapped in a hunter’s trap. That had been an experience. 

The girl shuffled over, very careful with her hands, shooting suspicious glances at the still bawling toddler. “I found him down by the creek. The poor teeny thing is really hurt, Em.” She lifted her hand free to reveal her newest rescue, and Emilia gasped, eyes widening, eyebrows shooting to her hairline. 

A sprite lay along the length of her hand, no bigger than a large maple leaf. One of its arms hung between her forefinger and thumb, its cheek resting against the thick pad of her palm.  Its dappled wings were held at an awkward angle, trembling, like they wanted to curl over its body but were too hurt to do so. Dark, smears covered the exposed pale skin from the rents in its ruined clothing, minuscule feet sticking out of the ragged end of its trousers. Unthinkingly, she reached forward to touch her fingers to the dark head, only stopping when her little sister drew it back, covering it with her hand again. “Careful, Em! He’s really delicate.” 

She looked up at her sister’s intense brown eyes, making sure that she saw how serious she was about her words. “I understand, Annie, but I need to see him to help, okay?” 

Annabelle pursed her lips, forehead wrinkling, but nodded, holding the sprite out again. “Okay, just don’t let Marie touch him. She already hurt him earlier.” 

The toddler behind her gave an indignant wail, throwing herself backward and drumming her feet on the floor. “Did not!!!!! Didnotdidnotdidnot!!” They ignored her, Emilia moving to scooping up the tiny sprite with dexterous fingers. 

“Careful,” Annabelle murmured, as they transferred it, “I think his arm and wing might be broken.” 

Emilia was cautious as she let the limp body rest in her hand, on its side, attentive about not putting any of the sprite’s weight on its wings or the arm that was clearly broken. She felt a flame of protectiveness flicker to life as its tiny rib cage expanded against the sensitive pads of her fingers. She could crush the little creature without any effort, its entire body almost weightless and unbelievably fragile in the palm of her hand. 

“It’s so small,” she whispered as she brought the sprite closer to her face. Upon closer examination, Emilia saw that the sprite’s face was lax in unconsciousness, short black hair plastered to its forehead, bruises darkening the pale skin around its eyes and high cheekbones. Its gray shirt was torn and revealed a sluggishly bleeding wound to its stomach. Hopefully that wasn’t very deep, she didn’t think she would be able to stitch something this small. 

“Do you think you can help him, Em?” Annabelle asked, her voice tremulous. Annabelle always cried when her charges died, too hurt and beyond help when she found them. She always seemed to blame herself.  

“I hope so, Annie-girl.” Emilia turned, cradling the sprite in her hand, close to her body, as she started gathering materials. “Why don’t you take Marie outside and find her some fireflies?” It was at the cusp dusk, they would be out in droves at the wood line, and it would keep Marie out of her hair while she worked. 

“Okay, Em.” 

Emilia barely heard her little sisters leave the room, Marie’s sniveling sobs fading as they went back down the hallway. She pulled a basket from the floor, the thick and firm cushion from her chair going into the middle so that she could lay the sprite down in a safe place. She brushed the hair back from its forehead when she lay it down on its side, careful of its wings and broken arm, hoping to give a bit of comfort. The little creature stirred at her touch, a small sound rising up to meet her ears, but he didn’t do more than shift in its sleep. “I’ll do what I can for you, little one,” she promised, softly. 

The sprite shivered, wings trembling, so she pulled the scarf from the back of her chair, soft and thick, to cover the sprite and keep it warm.  Its breaths were rapid, and, when she placed the lightest pressure against its chest, its heartbeat felt like the rapid thrum of a hummingbird.  The sprite whimpered at her touch, drawing back away from her, its wings trembling under the scarf. She winced in sympathy, thinking that it probably had broken ribs, but there wasn’t very much she could do other than wrap them. 

Lifting the scarf, trying to tuck it around its neck and back to contain any heat, she examined its wings. They were delicate and articulated like a bat’s, the bones as complex and intricate as a human hand, the thin membranes inbetween dappled white and gray like a birch tree. She hissed at the way the long bones on the left one were bent, broken, and the horrible rent through the skin between them. Blood caked into the folds of the thin skin, flaking and dusting with the wing’s movement. She would have to splint them, maybe glue the skin together, to preserve any of his flying ability.  The right seemed mostly fine, one of the longest bones broken, but nothing like the other. 

Recovering the wings with the scarf as gently as possible, she revealed its poor arm and felt of it as well as she could through its long-sleeved shirt. The sprite cried out when her fingers met its bicep, its eyelids flyings open as it jerked away from her. “Oh!” 

Her tiny patient scrambled to move as far as possible from her touch. A heartbreaking, high pitched cry piercing through the air as he tried to crawl away from her. The scarf fluttered when it tried to flare its wings out, and it screamed before collapsing. She could see it’s little ribs expanding under its shirt in huge gasps, it’s unearthly green eyes open and glazed with pain.  

Hands hovering, afraid to touch and set it off again, she whispered to it. “I’m so sorry, I know it hurts. I’m just trying to help, shhhh, don’t move.” 

The sprite didn’t seem to hear or understand her, curling forward and pulling its legs up into a ball while it shuddered. Emilia debated her options, grimacing. She could try and splint the bones in its wings while it was awake and hope it passed out quickly to allow her to work on the rest of it, but that posed a serious problem. She couldn’t set any of those delicate bones with only one hand while the other held it down to prevent more damage. The other option was trying to dose it with something to make the pain bearable, but dosing something that small would be absolute hell. The sprite couldn’t weigh more than a few ounces at most, and anything she had would probably kill it.  

She needed another set of hands. 

Nodding, she tucked the scarf back around the sprite, suppressing her reaction to the wrecked noise her touch elicited. “Rest now, okay? I’ll be right back.”  

*** 

Leaf woke up to screaming, the cry of pain sharp and penetrating, not realizing at first that the sound was coming from his own mouth. He tried to propel himself away from whatever was hurting him,  brain not quite catching up to what was happening. Blurry eyesight didn’t give him an avenue of escape but panic was quick to flush through his body when he realized that his left arm was unresponsive, the tendons straining with an agonizing warning not to move it. Instinct took over, he had to get away, but when he lifted his wings to catapult himself forward his entire body rebelled. This scream of pain came from the bottom of his gut and, like cutting strings holding a banner, he fell to whatever he was laying on. He broke out into a cold sweat as he tried to gasp in precious oxygen. It hurt, forest and fire, it hurt. 

Every minuscule twitch of his muscles was like a ripping hook through his abdomen, accompanying lines of lightning shooting through his limp limbs. Any surrounding noise was lost to the echoing roar of his heartbeat in his ears, and he sobbed deep in his throat, as he curled up. Leaf couldn’t help the hollow wail, overwhelmed and desperate when something heavy came to rest over him and his wings. Pitchy whimpers poured out of his mouth like the newborn mewls of a fox cub. Every breath was agony. Why did he hurt? Where was he?

He tried to open his eyes as the pain settled, weakness boiling through him, making his extremities tingle with shaking numbness. Leaf didn’t know what to make of his surroundings, tears blurring the objects together into odd clumps. It was so quiet. No shifting, swaying of tree branches or rustle of leaves. The light around him had a weird flickering ambiance, no sunlight shone overhead, no steady moonlight to guide his way.  He strained for some recollection of what happened, only remembering plans for a brief flight. He’d been diving. Then. Nothing. Nothing but pain and movement, someone talking to him. Yelling. 

Leaf let out a small tonal call, the chirping screech holding all of the distress he felt. He waited a moment, letting his head rest against the soft surface under his cheek, and a plummeting sensation fell through his stomach when there was no answering call. It had to have been his colony that found him, right? He called again, louder than before, adding a note of fear. No answer. His ribs protested at the way his breathing picked up, but the foul tasing fear in his mouth gave him a little bit of clarity and focus. 

Shuddering at the way every movement sent a wave of pain through him, he raised his head on a tense neck to try and see more of his surroundings. He was covered by something thick and heavy of a deep autumnal ochre and he was laying in . . . a basket? He blinked, exhaustion and pain addled mind taking an extra moment to let that sink in.  It was a basket, and it was huge. A deep dread simmered under his skin and a suspicion started to tickle the back of his neck. His ribs screamed at the way he was near hyperventilating and his eyes swam as his heart rapidly pushed blood through his injured body. Mountain roots and tree bones, he was in trouble. 

Leaf grit his teeth and tried to push the blanket off of him with his good arm, muscles shaking with fatigue. Black spots swam in front of his eyes, and a solid chill struck at the gap in the blanket and his body. Shivering and groaning, he allowing himself to sink back down and the blanket to fall back over him. He sucked in a wet breath, swallowing the thick nob of tears in his throat. He wanted to go home. A choked trill echoed from the hollow of his chest, seeking a listening ear. 

Giving up wasn’t an option though, especially if he wasn’t with his colony. If he was right then he needed to get away, now. Screwing his face up in determination, grabbing his broken arm with the other to hold it in place, he dug his feet into the soft, giving surface below him and tried to slide himself out from under the heavy blanket. Leaf gagged when the fabric caught on his wing, white jagged sparks overwhelming everything for a few seconds. 

His eyelids fluttered open as a low moan pulled free of his mouth, and he swallowed the bile that covered his tongue, surprised he didn’t actually throw up. Nausea swirled in his belly and pulsed in time with the rapid thrum of his heartbeat. He checked his progress, suppressing the trembling in his wings, and found that he had been able to shift himself partway out from under the blanket. Shivering at the onset of cold, he hissed, and clutched at his innate stubbornness. He wanted out. Growling, angry clicks echoing against the wall of the basket, he pushed with his feet again and again. A raw note of hurt zinged through the air but Leaf was able to get onto his knees, cradling his broken arm to his belly. He noted the ragged and blood soaked rents in his clothing, but anything beyond his broken wing and arm was a distant and far away pain. 

On shaking legs, Leaf climbed to his feet, biting his lip to keep keening trills from leaving his mouth. His wings hung behind him, the weak sprite unable to lift them from the floor as he shuffled to the edge of the basket. Each step threw an echoing agony throughout his body, and he panted on air, trying to stay conscious. Everything grayed at the edges, and he swayed, clutching at the willow rim. The basket wall was waist high but, when he looked over the edge, his eyesight swam in and out of focus making the surface below look alternatively too close and too far away. Leaf swallowed, leaning heavily on the basket for support.  He blinked over the edge of the basket, and blinked again, hoping that it would settle into focus. 

Something metal jostled in the distance and Leaf tensed, entire body shaking, when it squealed, accompanied by echoing thunder and rhythmic rumbling. Leaf whimpered, spurred into action, and leveraged his body over the lip of the basket. He spread his right wing out as much as he could, ignoring the bright stinging pain, and let himself fall. A weak cry stuck in his throat when the wing caught the air. 

Without the left wing for balance, the right side of his body pulled up, away, so he couldn’t catch himself with his good arm. When he met the wooden surface, his left arm and wing crashed against the wood first, and Leaf gagged on the scream that tried to pour out of him. Stomach bile gushed up his throat, burning his esophagus and nose as he spluttered. 

Leaf felt his entire body shaking, engulfed with a consuming pain. He couldn’t move anymore, not willingly, and every jagged inhale swallowed more of his consciousness. His eyes tracked the room in a hazy daze, fear not allowing him to let go of consciousness completely. 

“Did you hear that?” A feminine voice reached his ears as something big moved into his line of sight. Leaf knew that he was in the shadow of the basket, the wide lip hanging over and sheltering him from the higher eyes, so he swallowed his clicking trill of fear, not wanting to be found.

Another figure moved, “No. I didn’t.” The voice was tired and irritated. Masculine.  “Can you just tell me what you need my help with so that I can go get some sleep?” 

“Yeah, I left it in the basket when I went to get you. Here—“ the first figure moved closer, and Leaf closed his eyes, wanting to hide, “—Oh no!” 

“What?” 

“It’s gone!” The basket scraped against the wood, and Leaf bit his cheek at the way he jumped, pain making him lose time. 

“—was in there?” 

“It was a sprite!” 

The masculine voice scoffed, “Seriously? Em, I have to get some sleep, not help you track down fairy tales.” 

“It was here! I swear! Annabelle brought it in, you know how she is.” The basket skidded against the table, and Leaf felt the soft fabric of the blanket brush against the back of his head. 

“What, do you think it crawled under the cushion?” The man groaned. “Em, it's  if it is a sprite, and if he’s out of the basket now, then how injured do you think he was? He could have just magicked himself away.” 

“Nate, he was really hurt. He was practically unconscious. I don’t think he would be able to get far.” The blanket landed over him in a heap as the basket was picked up. Leaf couldn’t help the anguished cry that was pulled out of him as the heavy weight enveloped him and jostled his broken bones. “Oh my god!” 

The blanket vanished and Leaf opened his eyes, shuddering, fresh tears dripping from his eyes and down the side of his face, over the bridge of his nose. Something hovered over him and a clicking shriek of fear thrummed in his chest when he realized it was a face. Humans. He tried to push himself up. Nononono. 

“Sshhhhh, easy there, little one,” the female voice whispered. Her hands came down over him, and Leaf trilled, huffing in has much air as he could, his wings trembling with the need to fly. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said as she scooped him up, ignoring his miserable crying. “Easy there, I know it hurts. Just be still, okay?”  

Leaf grabbed her finger in one arm as she swung him up and over the ground, his stomach lurching at the vertigo inducing feeling of flying without wings, and his eyesight fuzzed out to indistinct shapes. Her hand was as big as he was, able to crush him into so many broken parts and rip his wings from his body. And he couldn’t get away. He couldn’t get away. His throat hurt, and Leaf realized that he was emitting a continuous keening sound of pure terror from the bottom of his chest. 

“Oh my god,” Nate murmured, closer to them, “Oh my god, it’s actually a sprite.” 

The woman continued to shush Leaf, “Shhhh, I know you’re scared, but we want to help you, okay? Can you understand us? We’re not going to hurt you, I promise.” 

The panicked sprite couldn’t help the sounds of fear that continued to fall out of his mouth but exhaustion was quickly over taking him. He could feel his heart thudding hollowly against the broken bones in his rib cage and the creeping weakness in his limbs. Her finger brushing against his hair in a soothing stroke, and Leaf let his eyes close, holding on to consciousness with the barest of tenacious grips. Leaf drifted, and the human’s voices echoed to him in a rumble. 

“Em’, oh my god, Em’, it’s an actual sprite.” 

“I know, Nate. I need you to hold him, okay? I need to get some things ready to patch it up. This might take a while, do you want to help?” 

“Do I want to help? Of course I want to help! It’s a fucking sprite!” 

“Language! Annabelle and Marie could be back any minute.” 

There was a rustle, and the wind shifted through the air. “Sorry, I’m just excited. How do you want me to hold it?” 

“Like this,” Leaf whimpered when they started to move him, pain echoing throughout his body in a wave, but the hands didn’t stop. “Easy does it, be careful of that arm.” Strong calloused fingers found purchase under his little body, and he was cupped in a large palm. “There you go,” she murmured, “Go get comfortable at the table, okay?” 

The man’s hands were warmer than the woman’s and he shivered all over as the man walked, the breeze stealing what little warmth his body had gained. Something brushed against the membrane of his right wing as it moved, and Leaf trilled, trying to pull himself away. His eyes fluttered open, and he could see a large bearded face leaning over him. “Sorry, sorry about that little fella. Your wings are just really interesting.” He raised his hand and Leaf tensed. “Easy there, easy, I’m not going to hurt you either.” The ochre blanket reappeared in the periphery of Leaf’s vision, “I’m going to cover you up, okay? You’re probably really cold.” The man was careful of his injuries as the blanket settled over him again, and Leaf couldn’t fight his eyelids anymore as they slipped closed. 

A humming rumble lulled him to sleep in time with the gentle stroking of the man’s finger over his hair. 

#sprite #tiny whumpee #Leaf #fairy if you want #I found out there's only so many ways to say little or tiny #I'm loving this OC #my oc's #my writing #Annabelle #Marie #Emilia #Nate #broken bones #pain