Helping Yourself. (BtVS, Vampire Willow/Willow)
Title: Helping Yourself.
Fandom: Buffy: The Vampire Slayer.
Warnings: Dubcon, Selfcest. Dirty talk.
Characters/couples: Vampire!Willow/Willow.
Summary: In the end, she supposes that it’s more about helping yourself, like always.
Rating: R/NC17.
Notes: Because there is NOTHING hotter than Vampire!Willow in Buffy. Well, okay, Faith gets a very close second, with Darla/Dru is a third one, but, y’know. Evil!Corset-wearing!Eyeliner!Red-lips!Willow is still Hot. So… Evil!Willow+Geeky!Willow… well, do the maths yourself. *doesn't comment on the fact that she's SO going to hell, because, y'know, DUH.*
Helping Yourself.
In the end, she supposes that it’s more about helping yourself, like always. After all, even if it’s a horrifying thought, there is probably something of her in this… boring, plainish, pastel-wearing-plaid-skirts Willow of Boring-dale. For the sake of that little and small evil and lustful being that must be almost withering inside Boring Willow, she must feed it with a little something.
Besides, you know. Bored and locked and all that.
“Y’know?” she drawls, keeping her eyes over Boring Willow’s neck, both because she’s hungry and because it disturbs the nerdy girl. “My Xander gives excellent oral.”
The books go crashing against the floor, and Boring Willow’s blush almost matches her (their?) hair.
“W-w-wha… what are you… don’t talk like that!”
She continues as if the other Willow hadn’t said anything (after all, she pretty much didn’t, that with all the stuttering. She suppresses a shiver: she still can remember when she was that small and pathetic. She’ll seriously have to thank her Lord when she goes back home).
“Even from the beginning… I guess it has to do something with the fact that he used to talk so much…” she trails a finger down her throat and above her breasts, noticing that Boring Willow doesn’t take her eyes off and she smirks. “Does your Xander do it?”
The girl blinks, blushes, blushes some more, gapes and stutters: all in less than ten seconds. She’d be amused if it wasn’t so terribly pathetic and unbecoming.
“I-I… I mean, he’s not my… we’re not… I don’t think he… I’ve got a boyfriend!” Boring Willow finally shrieks. She rolls her eyes.
“Yes, yes. Wolfie-boy. So. Does he give you a howling good time?” She asks, raising an eyebrow. “Many werewolves like bondage and S&M, you know? Especially around the full moon…”
Ahhh, New Orleans. Of course, her thoughts were interrupted by yet another shriek: she wondered if herself of this reality realized that blood had to be running through all her body and not just her neck and face. Of course, that meant it’d be so much easier to eat. She’d have to remember to try and preheat her food before eating it, it did have some sense.
“Oz is not like that!”
Now, she pouted. “That’s a shame. So… young Willow is still a virgin?”
Of course she knew the answer. No one who wasn’t a virgin would dare to use that much pastel pink.
“I… that’s personal!”
As if she needed a confirmation, really. She evaluated her geeky, nerdy self. Of course, it wasn’t that there wasn’t something to work it, it was just so, so terribly abandoned. This Willow of course had the probabilities of being the biggest, meanest evil that had ever existed: she could have an army at her feet… if only she wasn’t licking the Slayer’s Prada’d feet.
Ooooh, there was an idea.
She put her sincere voice, the one she used for when she was going to transform someone and she wanted that someone to become her puppy. Her Xander had always said that it was then when she was the most evil vampire.
“Come one, Willow. We’re the same person. If you can’t tell me, who can?”
“We’re not!”
She rolls her eyes again. “You’ve a birthmark on your left thigh, when you were twelve you had a purple diary but you changed it to something that looked like a Chemistry book because Xander found out and tried to read it and you wanted Shaggy to marry Vilma.”
Willow gapes and she forces herself not to roll her eyes again; instead she smiles as innocently as she can.
“See? We are the same.” She says softly, almost caringly. “C’mere, I’ll tell you some advice for your boyfriend.”
Boring Willow takes a step forward. “I… I’m not gonna… not gonna open the door or anything. And you’re not gonna ask me, right?”
The girl seemed to be wanting to try her patience, but she kept the twitch over her eye from, you know, twitching.
“I’m not. Just come over here, please.”
Okay, first thing after she had something proper to eat, she was going to see if there was anyway of finding a time machine so she could go to the geeky, eight years old Willow and convince her to drop her books, get some barbies and start stuffing her breasts with kleenex. Maybe then the horrifying and pathetic way this Willow is will stop from existing.
“What… what do you want?”
In a swift mood, she had trapped the girl against the bars of the cage, an arm tightly wrapped around the girl’s waist. It was something of a thrill watching the fear on her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been scared.
“Oh, relax, little kitten.” She cooed, completely unfazed by the thrashing and squirming her panicking other self was doing. “I wouldn’t hurt myself, would I?”
“How am I supposed to know if you’re not… not… some kind of…”
Rolling her eyes again, she interrupted the girl’s talk by leaning to lick her neck, feeling the tremor of fear all the way from her lips towards her core. Mentally she cored the girl’s whimper, although hers was on the desire to plunge her teeth over that soft skin. After all, how many vampires had the opportunity to convert themselves?
“W-w-what…?!”
“Shhhh, kitten.” She crooned again, pressing as close as possible to the bars, getting her free hand to trail down Scared Willow’s waist to her thigh and up again through her skirt. “I’m just giving you a present.”
Willow almost manages to jump free from her when she pressed her fingers against the cotton of her underwear. She smirked against her neck: apparently, she wasn’t the only one that found fear exciting and arousing.
“Stop it! Right now!” The girl moaned, but as if she had heard her all afternoon, frankly. She started rubbing her fingers against Willow’s flesh, licking her neck again when by instinct the other girl opened her legs a bit more. “I promised Oz I wouldn’t cheat on him again!”
Again? Ooooh.
“But, is it really cheating?” she asked in a murmur, noticing how the girl’s hands went to hold over the cage’s bars. “After all, we are the same being… wouldn’t it count more as self-gratification?”
“Oh, God…” Willow shudders at her words, forehead pressed against the bars, eyes closed. And she can’t do anything but press her fingers a bit more, slip them under the girl’s damp underwear, and she wonders if Willow is picturing herself doing this on her probably still pink sheets or perhaps on that boyfriend of hers or over Xander, or perhaps even on the Slayer doing this. Trying this new theory of hers, she crooks her fingers a bit, entirely too amused when Willow bites her lip and a small whimper still breaks free?
“You know? I’m pretty sure your friend Buffy would also give awesome oral.” She says in an almost chatty way, noticing the way Willow’s legs are shaking, rubbing a bit faster, a bit harder. It is entirely too easy to know what the girl wants and likes, doing it just in a much more vanilla way than she would like.
“D-don’t…” Willow whimpers but she also wets her lips, and now she’s one hundred percent certain that she is picturing a blonde head between her legs, nuzzling her thighs, licking her, tongue tasting her. Smiling a bit more, she lets her fingers get inside the girl’s body, still hard, not at all surprised when Willow’s hips start answering at the thrusts.
“Don’t what?” she asks against her ear when Willow turns her head, letting her tongue slip just a bit, tugging the soft flesh with his teeth without letting the skin break (most humans are entirely too wuzzy at the sight of blood, after all, and she still wants to enjoy herself in both accounts), the scents of sex and the sound of Willow’s blood rushing making her crave for more. “Don’t talk about the friends I’ve the hots for… or don’t do this?”
“Oh… oh… oh God!”
Okay. Perhaps Boring Willow is not as straight as she thinks she is. Smirking at the thought, she presses her fingers just a bit more against her, rubs just there, wincing when the girl screams her release. A screamer, this reality her.
Hour later, when she is finally being sent home, she smiles when the girl won’t meet her eyes completely, and makes a show of licking one finger. “Have fun.” She tells the boring-but-with-probabilities Willow, moments before feeling the same pull as before.
Fandom: Buffy: The Vampire Slayer.
Warnings: Dubcon, Selfcest. Dirty talk.
Characters/couples: Vampire!Willow/Willow.
Summary: In the end, she supposes that it’s more about helping yourself, like always.
Rating: R/NC17.
Notes: Because there is NOTHING hotter than Vampire!Willow in Buffy. Well, okay, Faith gets a very close second, with Darla/Dru is a third one, but, y’know. Evil!Corset-wearing!Eyeliner!Red-lips!Willow is still Hot. So… Evil!Willow+Geeky!Willow… well, do the maths yourself. *doesn't comment on the fact that she's SO going to hell, because, y'know, DUH.*
Helping Yourself.
In the end, she supposes that it’s more about helping yourself, like always. After all, even if it’s a horrifying thought, there is probably something of her in this… boring, plainish, pastel-wearing-plaid-skirts Willow of Boring-dale. For the sake of that little and small evil and lustful being that must be almost withering inside Boring Willow, she must feed it with a little something.
Besides, you know. Bored and locked and all that.
“Y’know?” she drawls, keeping her eyes over Boring Willow’s neck, both because she’s hungry and because it disturbs the nerdy girl. “My Xander gives excellent oral.”
The books go crashing against the floor, and Boring Willow’s blush almost matches her (their?) hair.
“W-w-wha… what are you… don’t talk like that!”
She continues as if the other Willow hadn’t said anything (after all, she pretty much didn’t, that with all the stuttering. She suppresses a shiver: she still can remember when she was that small and pathetic. She’ll seriously have to thank her Lord when she goes back home).
“Even from the beginning… I guess it has to do something with the fact that he used to talk so much…” she trails a finger down her throat and above her breasts, noticing that Boring Willow doesn’t take her eyes off and she smirks. “Does your Xander do it?”
The girl blinks, blushes, blushes some more, gapes and stutters: all in less than ten seconds. She’d be amused if it wasn’t so terribly pathetic and unbecoming.
“I-I… I mean, he’s not my… we’re not… I don’t think he… I’ve got a boyfriend!” Boring Willow finally shrieks. She rolls her eyes.
“Yes, yes. Wolfie-boy. So. Does he give you a howling good time?” She asks, raising an eyebrow. “Many werewolves like bondage and S&M, you know? Especially around the full moon…”
Ahhh, New Orleans. Of course, her thoughts were interrupted by yet another shriek: she wondered if herself of this reality realized that blood had to be running through all her body and not just her neck and face. Of course, that meant it’d be so much easier to eat. She’d have to remember to try and preheat her food before eating it, it did have some sense.
“Oz is not like that!”
Now, she pouted. “That’s a shame. So… young Willow is still a virgin?”
Of course she knew the answer. No one who wasn’t a virgin would dare to use that much pastel pink.
“I… that’s personal!”
As if she needed a confirmation, really. She evaluated her geeky, nerdy self. Of course, it wasn’t that there wasn’t something to work it, it was just so, so terribly abandoned. This Willow of course had the probabilities of being the biggest, meanest evil that had ever existed: she could have an army at her feet… if only she wasn’t licking the Slayer’s Prada’d feet.
Ooooh, there was an idea.
She put her sincere voice, the one she used for when she was going to transform someone and she wanted that someone to become her puppy. Her Xander had always said that it was then when she was the most evil vampire.
“Come one, Willow. We’re the same person. If you can’t tell me, who can?”
“We’re not!”
She rolls her eyes again. “You’ve a birthmark on your left thigh, when you were twelve you had a purple diary but you changed it to something that looked like a Chemistry book because Xander found out and tried to read it and you wanted Shaggy to marry Vilma.”
Willow gapes and she forces herself not to roll her eyes again; instead she smiles as innocently as she can.
“See? We are the same.” She says softly, almost caringly. “C’mere, I’ll tell you some advice for your boyfriend.”
Boring Willow takes a step forward. “I… I’m not gonna… not gonna open the door or anything. And you’re not gonna ask me, right?”
The girl seemed to be wanting to try her patience, but she kept the twitch over her eye from, you know, twitching.
“I’m not. Just come over here, please.”
Okay, first thing after she had something proper to eat, she was going to see if there was anyway of finding a time machine so she could go to the geeky, eight years old Willow and convince her to drop her books, get some barbies and start stuffing her breasts with kleenex. Maybe then the horrifying and pathetic way this Willow is will stop from existing.
“What… what do you want?”
In a swift mood, she had trapped the girl against the bars of the cage, an arm tightly wrapped around the girl’s waist. It was something of a thrill watching the fear on her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been scared.
“Oh, relax, little kitten.” She cooed, completely unfazed by the thrashing and squirming her panicking other self was doing. “I wouldn’t hurt myself, would I?”
“How am I supposed to know if you’re not… not… some kind of…”
Rolling her eyes again, she interrupted the girl’s talk by leaning to lick her neck, feeling the tremor of fear all the way from her lips towards her core. Mentally she cored the girl’s whimper, although hers was on the desire to plunge her teeth over that soft skin. After all, how many vampires had the opportunity to convert themselves?
“W-w-what…?!”
“Shhhh, kitten.” She crooned again, pressing as close as possible to the bars, getting her free hand to trail down Scared Willow’s waist to her thigh and up again through her skirt. “I’m just giving you a present.”
Willow almost manages to jump free from her when she pressed her fingers against the cotton of her underwear. She smirked against her neck: apparently, she wasn’t the only one that found fear exciting and arousing.
“Stop it! Right now!” The girl moaned, but as if she had heard her all afternoon, frankly. She started rubbing her fingers against Willow’s flesh, licking her neck again when by instinct the other girl opened her legs a bit more. “I promised Oz I wouldn’t cheat on him again!”
Again? Ooooh.
“But, is it really cheating?” she asked in a murmur, noticing how the girl’s hands went to hold over the cage’s bars. “After all, we are the same being… wouldn’t it count more as self-gratification?”
“Oh, God…” Willow shudders at her words, forehead pressed against the bars, eyes closed. And she can’t do anything but press her fingers a bit more, slip them under the girl’s damp underwear, and she wonders if Willow is picturing herself doing this on her probably still pink sheets or perhaps on that boyfriend of hers or over Xander, or perhaps even on the Slayer doing this. Trying this new theory of hers, she crooks her fingers a bit, entirely too amused when Willow bites her lip and a small whimper still breaks free?
“You know? I’m pretty sure your friend Buffy would also give awesome oral.” She says in an almost chatty way, noticing the way Willow’s legs are shaking, rubbing a bit faster, a bit harder. It is entirely too easy to know what the girl wants and likes, doing it just in a much more vanilla way than she would like.
“D-don’t…” Willow whimpers but she also wets her lips, and now she’s one hundred percent certain that she is picturing a blonde head between her legs, nuzzling her thighs, licking her, tongue tasting her. Smiling a bit more, she lets her fingers get inside the girl’s body, still hard, not at all surprised when Willow’s hips start answering at the thrusts.
“Don’t what?” she asks against her ear when Willow turns her head, letting her tongue slip just a bit, tugging the soft flesh with his teeth without letting the skin break (most humans are entirely too wuzzy at the sight of blood, after all, and she still wants to enjoy herself in both accounts), the scents of sex and the sound of Willow’s blood rushing making her crave for more. “Don’t talk about the friends I’ve the hots for… or don’t do this?”
“Oh… oh… oh God!”
Okay. Perhaps Boring Willow is not as straight as she thinks she is. Smirking at the thought, she presses her fingers just a bit more against her, rubs just there, wincing when the girl screams her release. A screamer, this reality her.
Hour later, when she is finally being sent home, she smiles when the girl won’t meet her eyes completely, and makes a show of licking one finger. “Have fun.” She tells the boring-but-with-probabilities Willow, moments before feeling the same pull as before.