Work Text:
Stiles flopped into his desk chair with the elegance of an injured flamingo. He was surrounded by stacks of papers and books borrowed both from either the Beacon Hills Public Library or Peter. At this point, Stiles saw more paper than the actual floor.
He had been researching for hours and hours, trying to find something that could help them face off against the alpha pack. Stiles wasn’t the best fighter, and certainly didn’t have crazy bulging muscles like the others, so he always opted to throw himself into research. ‘The body is nothing without the mind’ Stiles liked to remind himself when he was watching the others fight from the sidelines.
He knew he wasn’t useless. In fact, he’d say that he’s one of the most useful, but it was kind of hard when he stood in front of the computer all day. He could feel his eyesight getting worse.
Luckily, he loved researching. Even before all the supernatural stuff he would learn things in his own time. The only change was that now, Stiles used most of his nights to research mythology and the occult world.
After surfing the web and flipping through books for a few more hours, he came across promising material, A ritual that could be used to summon some crazy powerful supernaturals. He was skeptical at first, but decided it was legit after comparing the information with the bestiary and Peter’s books.
The main reason he didn’t trust the ritual at first was because most of the ingredients were common objects. Sage, cloves, something that was decomposing. The first two were in his cupboards and with his dad’s unhealthy eating habits, there had to be a dying veggie somewhere in the fridge. The only item he didn’t have was mountain ash, but he was sure that convincing Deaton would be easy.
Stiles went downstairs to double check that he had all the components. After a sweep of the kitchen, he had laid everything out on the dining room table, ready to go as soon as he got the mountain ash.
Stiles couldn’t help but look at the knife sitting on the table, glinting in the low light. The ritual said that the caster had to “sacrifice” blood in order to attract a supernatural creature. Stiles already didn’t like the cutting himself part, and it left him even more uneasy that his blood would attract a supernatural. The ritual said it was made to summon only extremely strong creatures, but he couldn’t hide his grin, wondering what would happen if he summoned Derek or Scott. It would be a waste of a ritual but absolutely hilarious.
As soon as Stiles finished that thought, the door opened and his dad stepped through. Stiles quickly looked out the window, finally realizing how late it was. After throwing his keys on the table, the Sheriff looked at Stiles, then the ritual ingredients, and back at Stiles with total confusion on his face. After a moment of silence, his dad sighed, “Stiles, what on earth are you doing this time?”
“Oh you know Daddio, just cooking up some grub” he answered, flashing a grin, hoping no more questions would be asked.
“With eight spices and a half rotted potato?”
“Of course!” Stiles exclaimed, looking at his dad like it was obvious. “All that junk food you eat is made with so many different things. Good, healthy food is made with just a few, enhanced ingredients.”
“Whatever you say son, but it just looks like you’re going to make a batch of nasty, over seasoned fries.”
Stiles threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. “You know what dad? I’m not even hungry anymore. And, if I were to make fries, it wouldn’t be worth it. They’d never compare to the greasy goodness of curly fries.”
And with that, Stiles began to climb up the stairs, giddy for tomorrow. He would go get the mountain ash from Deaton in the morning then start the ritual that night. It was perfect.
“Oh! And don’t put the potato in the fridge, I want it to die faster!” Stiles shouted down to his dad as an afterthought.
As he got ready for bed, Stiles could hear the sheriff grumbling downstairs, probably wondering what mistake he made in raising him to have Stiles end up like this.
....
Stiles had been buzzing with energy and excitement for the whole day. He could barely sit still at school, tapping his foot or fingers constantly. He was so restless that Mr. Harris almost gave him detention for “disturbing class” because he wouldn’t stop shuffling in his seat.
As soon as he was let out, Stiles took the Jeep to Deaton’s office. It took much less convincing than he thought to get the mountain ash. It just showed how dangerous the alpha pack was if even Deaton was on edge. That should have worried Stiles, but he just couldn’t stop thinking of the night’s ritual.
He was excited. No, he was more than excited. He was obsessed. If he could pull this off, it would finally show the pack just how important he was.
As he opened his front door, he haphazardly threw his backpack onto the living room couch. Homework could wait, he had to get ready for tonight.
He carefully placed the mountain ash next to the other materials needed for the ritual. Luckily for Stiles, his dad had actually left the potato out and it smelled terrible. Perfect.
Stiles got to work on committing the ritual’s sigils and spells to memory. He knew most of it thanks to last night’s research, but he still wanted to review the material. He couldn’t afford to screw up.
Finally, Stiles got to the point where he was so confident, he could probably recite it all backwards if he tried. He looked up at the clock. It was 10 pm. His leg couldn’t stop bouncing. The ritual was meant to be performed at midnight and Stiles felt as if he might self implode if he didn’t start soon.
He took the materials outside to the backyard and started to prepare what he could. Stiles methodically drew the casting circle and surrounding sigils. He got lost in the process, slipping into a trance-like state. It was like Stiles knew what to do even before he learned the ritual. Stiles should have been alarmed, but he just chalked it up to the ungodly amount of time he spent memorizing the texts.
He took a step back to admire his handiwork and almost gasped. He expected his circle to be good, but not perfect. It looked exactly like the one from the book, down to each line. Now Stiles was beginning to feel uneasy. It quickly went away though once he looked around his backyard and laughed at how weird the whole scene looked. He silently thanked whatever it was that had made dad take the night shift that day.
Having nothing else to do, Stiles paced back and forth, trying to get rid of some of his energy. He kept glancing in between the clock and the eerie circle. Stiles knew he should be worried, that he should stop the ritual entirely and find some other way to help. But he worked so hard and was too damn curious to not see what would happen.
Finally, the clock struck 11:55 and Stiles got to work. He lit the herbs and potato on fire, smoke starting to curl into the air. Stiles breathed it in, the smell of it surprisingly pleasant and calming. He then took the mountain ash and began to sprinkle it into a circle while muttering the beginnings of the ritual.
He kept chanting, dipping into the same trance-like state again. He snapped out of it only when he felt the pressure of the knife on his palm. He flinched in surprise, but kept chanting, in fear the ritual would fail. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, he sliced open his palm, feeling it get wet with blood. Shakily he stretched his arm out, over the circle of mountain ash. Reminding himself that he was doing this for his friends, Stiles took a deep breath and squeezed his right fist, blood hitting the pavement in the center of the circle.
He slowly opened his eyes, not realizing he closed them. He held his breath, waiting for something to happen. Stiles sighed after a few seconds, looking down at his watch. 12 AM. Great, It really hadn’t worked, even with his creepy but perfect set up.
He looked up, ready to start cleaning, but then he froze. His blood was moving, drawing... something in the center of the casting circle. The smoke began to pool, growing thick and taking shape. Stiles could only watch with wide eyes as something, no, someone, materialized in front of him.
When the smoke dissipated, Stiles couldn't believe what he was seeing. In the middle of the casting circle, was him. Well, it wasn’t him, but it definitely looked like him. Same gangly, pasty body with too many birthmarks.
As Stiles was looking at...himself, the other him was doing the same. The copy shifted from foot to foot, trying to find his bearings. He brought up his left hand, stretching it out in front of him. The doppelganger inspected his fingers, curling them one by one. Yup, this definitely wasn’t Stiles. Real Stiles was a clumsy mess, but the other him moved with an erie, practiced grace.
At some point while studying his fingers, the copy finally became aware of Stiles’s presence. He lifted his head up, face gaunt, dark circles under his eyelids.
They locked eyes and the copy’s mouth widened into a dark smile.
“Hello darling.”
Those words made Stiles shudder, a tingling passing through his whole body. The reaction wasn’t missed by the doppleganger, whose eyes filled with mirth.
Stiles decided to speak first, trying to recover from the copy’s words. “Who are you? What are you? I did this ritual to summon a helpful supernatural, not myself.”
The copy rolled his eyes and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Of course I am not a copy of you. I took this form because it was what could be constructed from the sacrificed blood.”
Stiles looked down at his still bleeding palm. Oh.
“And my darling, I’m very disappointed. You should know who and what I am by now. But just to humor you, I am Nogitsune.” he said, crossing his arms.
Nogitsune. A fox spirit of chaos. Stiles remembered reading about it in the bestiary. If Nogitsune was telling the truth, then this was good and bad. It was good because Stiles had summoned an extremely strong creature. It was bad because Stiles had no idea how to control it.
The whole situation had him on edge. As far as he knew, a nogitsune had no weaknesses. The only thing keeping the spirit from wreaking havoc was the surrounding circle of mountain ash.
It also dawned on him that he shouldn’t feel as comfortable as he did around Nogitsune. Stiles should be creeped out from the pet names and familiarity the fox spoke with. Instead, he felt relaxed. His mind was wrapped in a comforting haze whenever Nogitsune’s attention was on him. Stiles could have stood there all day basking in the fox spirit’s presence if he wasn’t so scared of his friends dying and the crazy powerful spirit in front of him.
“If you come here, I could fix that for you. We both know you shouldn’t lose more blood” Nogitsune said as he motioned towards the gash on Stiles’s palm.
Without thinking, Stiles took a step forward. Instantly, an immense feeling of want rushed through him. It was so strong, he could barely stand straight. His eyesight started to go hazy and his breathing became heavier. He could feel that warm presence wrap tighter and tighter around his mind. He didn’t know why, but he wanted it.
He needed it.
“What..” Stiles’s tongue swiped his bottom lip, “What’s happening to me?” He looked up to Nogitsune for answers. The fox’s smile widened, victory burning in his eyes.
“You are awakening darling. Your mind still doesn’t know who I am, but your body remembers.” His eyes were hooded and the dark look he gave Stiles caused the heat in the teen’s body to pool low. Nogitsune lifted his arm, reaching out to Stiles.
“Come.”
Stiles’s heart jumped. He knew he shouldn’t listen, but it was getting harder to think, his mind wrapped in warmth and darkness. He slowly crept closer to Nogitsune and with each step, the heat coursing through his body amplified. He was desperate for relief, yearned for it, and knew Nogitsune would give it to him.
As Stiles came to the circle’s border, he hesitated. Why did he stop? He looked down and saw the barrier of mountain ash. Oh, that’s why. He wanted to keep the circle intact, he really did, but it was so hard to remember why.
“Darling, you know I’m not patient.” Nogitsune whispered to Stiles, so close the teen could feel the hot breath touch his skin. He couldn’t resist anymore, his foot stepping onto the circle, destroying the barrier.
Stiles’s mind went blank. Darkness rushed towards him, strengthening its hold on his mind tenfold. There was so much of it, he felt as if he was suffocating. He loved it.
Falling to his knees, Stiles looked up at the fox spirit, only the thin rings of his whiskey colored irises visible. At first, Stiles was confused as to what this creature was, but now he knew. Nogitsune was a god. His god.
The fox spirit cupped his cheek and tilted his face up to lock eyes. Stiles leaned into the touch, staring back at Nogitsune with complete adoration. He knew he should be worrying about his friends, but the feeling was just too good. The spirit thumbed his bottom lip and chuckled when Stiles’s mouth opened slightly.
“So good for me, even when you don’t know who I am.” Stiles tried to draw Nogitsune’s thumb into his mouth, but the spirit pulled away quickly, leaving the teen whining at the loss.
That just made Nogitsune chuckle more.
“So needy. If you want to suck on something,” Nogitsune gestured to the bulge in his pants, “It'll have to be this.”
Stiles panicked for a moment. He’d never done it with another man, much less a supernatural creature he just met. But as quickly as the fear came, it left, washed away by the darkness in his mind, replaced with more want.
He used his teeth to undo the zipper and pulled the waistband down, shaking with excitement. Once the cock was free and visible, all he could think of was pleasing Nogitsune.
He carefully took the cock in his mouth and began to suck. It wasn’t long before Stiles was enthusiastically taking it all, lips stretched obscenely wide.
“That’s it. Keep going.” Nogitsune urged Stiles as he slipped his fingers into the dark curls, making him take it even deeper.
It was perfection for Stiles. The pull of his hair, the heavy weight stretching his throat, Nogitsune above him. This is where he belonged.
Eventually, the fox spirit’s thrusts became erratic and desperate. His hips stuttered and hot cum spilled down Stiles’s throat. He felt sated and accomplished, swallowing the load.
Before Stiles could relax, Nogitsune pulled him up, pressing his back flush against the spirit’s chest. Nogitsune began grinding into his ass and littering his neck with kisses that made Stiles gasp with pleasure.
“No matter what form you take, you are always so eager for me. That’s what I love about you darling. The least I can do now is return the favor” Nogitsune whispered in his ear. Before Stiles could process the words, the fox spirit’s fingers were curling around his cock and Stiles could hardly contain himself, arching into the touch and letting out a broken moan.
“Every time you are reborn, you find some way to bring me to you. You need me as much as I need you,” Nogitsune said, licking the shell of Stiles's ear.
All Stiles could do was reply with a confused sound, too lost in pleasure.
“You have summoned me countless times using this ritual. That’s why your casting circle looks identical to the one you found. I wouldn’t be surprised if the spell you used came from you in a past life” Nogitsune explained to Stiles in between marking him with bruises.
All the information was too much for Stiles. Coupled with the onslaught of pleasure, his mind was a mess and he couldn’t think straight. Unable to control his emotions, tears started to well up.
Nogitsune craned his neck and kissed Stiles on the cheek, wiping the tears away with his unoccupied hand. Stiles melted into the touch, becoming putty in the spirit’s hands.
“Shhhh, do not worry darling. Everything will make sense soon.” As he said that, Nogitsune pumped his hand up and down, setting a furious pace that left Stiles moaning for the fox spirit over and over.
Just as he was about to cum, the darkness forced hundreds of memories into Stiles’s mind, pushing him over the edge. As he rode out his orgasm, he experienced all his other lives and his memories of Nogitsune. Centuries went by in seconds and all Stiles could do was pass out into the arms of his lover behind him.
When he woke up, he was alone in the middle of the casting circle. His pants were on and zipped up as if nothing ever happened. He closed his eyes and reached for a familiar presence in his mind, the warm darkness answering. He smiled and stared at the stars in the night sky. They were reunited once again.