Like a cockroach, Always Survives

177. Stefan Salvatore | The Ripper Returns

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Summary: Stefan has lost his humanity and vanished on a killing spree, and y/n, despite everyone's advice against it, goes after him to bring him back to Mystic Falls

Pairing: Stefan Salvatore x reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, oral sex (m->f), unprotected sex, p in v penetration, mentions of death and murder, blood, dirty talk, reader cheats, mention of daddy kink, no humanity, trickery, needles, written in third person, ripping of clothes, weapons, mentions of object insertion, swearing, like one mention of puke

Word Count: 2274

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Bloodlust provoked his every instinct, he was insatiable for more, deliriously hungry for each drop of mortal essence; Stefan, as he had become yet again, growled through his stained fangs, observing the sounds that renegaded through his sensitive ears. He could hear a heart beating, and that in itself set him in overdrive as he lurked in the house of his victim, prepared to devour whomever had entered the derelict residency that he had already satiated. The scent the new comer carried was familiar, like a candle lit in the cold weather of fall, sitting atop of the tables in the grill, brewing away its cinnamon induced scent through the devised wick that was burning with a sunset hue flame.

"Stefan." His humanity was off, and in this moment of his face being strewn with his delicious sin, he cared not for the label that pitiful humans knew him by. He was not a person, he was a creature of bad intent, desiring nothing more than rip into another living organism and drain it for every ounce of which it was worth. With the back of his hand, he wiped the crimson residue from his lips, soon licking them after as he chased after the echo, plodding down the steps with a full stomach that was screaming for more plentiful satisfaction. A stake of wood flew into the apex of his shoulder as he reached the bottom step, he cared not in regards to the pain that blossomed in the area of impact; he felt nothing, especially towards the shooter. Her face coiled at the sight of him dressed in the spillage of his appetite, his clothes were drenched in blood, she could smell the putrid stench from where she stood.

"If it isn't y/n. Pretty little naive y/n, chasing after the big bad vampire. Is the thrill fun? I'm sure the pounding of your heart sends such sensations down to your cunt, doesn't it little hunter? I guess Jeremy's stake just isn't big enough to give you what you really want." He was toying with y/n as though she were his prey, and it would be no surprise if that were the case; she had seen the trail of massacre that he had left in his wake, that was how she had found him. Of course she had gone against everyone's wishes to uncover his whereabouts and tread lightly in his chaotic footsteps, Damon had been hellbent on stopping her, being well aware of all that his brother was capable of. This wasn't his brother, it was a serial killer, a ripper that loved nothing more than to adjourn every life form he encountered into one of his many names on his wall.

"I'm here to stop you, and get Stefan back. Cut the chit chat unless we're gonna get down into the deep talks of your mummy and daddy issues." Y/n whirled her grasp around her gun which contained bullets that were laced with vervain; she had spent much time in a dingy hotel room making them, preparing for this very moment where they came face to face. And his face made her feel sick to her stomach, it was clustered with liquid roots from inside multiple bodies, the evidence of his slaughter doing nothing more than possibly foreshadowing soon that she was to be painted on his face amidst the murder that was already sprayed across the palette.

His eyes were humorously dark and bloodshot as he dared to step another inch closer; y/n's finger shot to dance over the trigger, sufficing her threat right before his malevolent features. "I do like to be called daddy if that's what you're asking; perhaps you should keep that in mind for later when I eat you." If y/n ever heard normal average Stefan say such things, she'd have laughed at the concept, throwing her head back and not caring if she was bearing her neck to his exquisite vision. However, Stefan was deprived of all personality, he was a walking conductor of life, taking it where he pleased, and affirmatively having a decline in consequences for any result that he snatched.