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crypticreid · 1 year ago

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KINKTOBER DAY FOUR

October 13 -- Virginity

masterlist

author's note: happy friday the 13th!! this is a behemoth, but it feels right to celebrate this day with a little bit of fireworks lol!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, I might do more of those throughout the month. thank you for reading and let me know if you want to be tagged! (also, because this took me so long, it isn't as tightly edited as my other work)

summary: To be completely honest, you're struggling a little bit with you new job at the BAU. Spencer is there to help. Oh, and maybe he can help you with a few other things too.

warnings: female reader, losing virginity, fingering, oral (female receiving), grinding, discussion about masturbation and mention of sex toys

word count: 6.9k (sorry? lol)

this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

Morgan smiles up at you from his desk as you scramble into the bullpen. Garcia is leaning against his desk as she raises her eyebrows. You toss your go bag under your own desk and push your hair out of your face, trying to ignore the pair.

“Rough night?” Morgan giggles, as he pushes the pencil he’s holding through his circled fingers suggestively. Garcia guffaws, but at least has the decency to playfully hit Morgan on the shoulder.

“Can you two behave for like five minutes?” You groan and try to find your ID badge. You literally just had it to get into the BAU department, but now it has mysteriously disappeared. It isn’t on your desk or in any of your pockets, but you do find a couple crumpled up dollar bills that you toss onto your desk without thinking.

The appearance of the bills causes Morgan to whistle. Emily walks over and sees the offending currency. “Damn, invite me next time!” She laughs.

You roll your eyes and don’t reply. Instead, you pull up your go bag and start to empty it. Maybe you accidentally put your badge in one of the pockets, you rationalize.

“What is going on?” JJ asks with a small laugh, gesturing to the contents of your go bag now completely strewn across the desk. Clothing and toiletries clutter the surface and you know you look like a crazy person. And maybe you are crazy. No, you definitely are crazy. Anyone who does this job is absolutely batshit crazy.

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. You are absolutely not going to have a mental breakdown at eight in the morning in the bullpen, and definitely not in front of fucking Derek Morgan. “I can’t find my badge.” You mutter and drop down to your knees to look under your chair and desk.

You palm the dirty floor, but don’t find anything. Your friends stifle their laughter. “I would help you but this is not a crawl around on the floor kind of dress.” Penelope offers.

“Gee, thanks.” You say to yourself.

“Hey, has anyone seen –” Spencer stops in both his tracks and his sentence when he notices you on the floor. He swallows. “I found your ID badge. Over by the door. I think you dropped it.”

“Wonder boy saves the day!” Morgan exclaims.

Spencer finishes his trek over to you and offers a hand to help you up. You glance up at him, blushing slightly at the angle. Who would’ve thought you’d be on your knees in front of Dr. Reid? Okay, you’ve definitely thought about it, but your imagination didn’t normally make it happen inside Quantico and it absolutely never in front of your coworkers.

“Sorry, my hands are kind of dirty. Uh, from the floor.” You confess and take his hand as you stand up. His hand is warm and soft, like really soft. Like you could easily fall asleep to him rubbing your back in mindless patterns. As soon as you’re on your feet you slip your hand out of his to avoid your mind adding more ammunition to your middle of the night imaginations about Spencer.

“It’s okay.”

“Thanks. For the badge… and –” you take the badge from his other hand and gesture meaninglessly between the two of you.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself redden deeper.

“Alright, alright! Time for kiss and tell!” Penelope exclaims and you blink away from your eye contact with Reid.

“What?” You whip your head around to her.

Emily makes kissing noises and musses her hair. “You. And some mystery person. Last night. Clearly.”

You turn toward her. “No. I wasn’t…” you start, your eyes flick over to Spencer as he walks toward his desk. “There’s no one.”

JJ leans on your desk and raises her brows. “Then what were you doing last night?”

You could not tell them the truth, but it was also impossible to lie to the best profilers in the country, so you give them a half truth. “Nothing. I just had a bad night.” You shrug and start to put your clothing back in your go bag, not bothering to fold it.

The truth is that it had been a bad night because you were struggling with the job. You’d been hired ten months ago and the lack of sleep, the neverending cases, and having to constantly deal with the horrific things humans can do to one another was taking its toll on you. Yesterday had been a day off and you wanted to use it to catch up on sleep, but everytime you closed your eyes, the faces of the people you couldn’t save filtered in. You hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep since you started and it had caused a complete breakdown last night. You had pulled up Hotch’s contact information four times ready to quit, but you knew you couldn’t do it. You were here for a reason, you’d stick it out.

Penelope hums. “Well, if it wasn’t a person… then it must’ve been alcohol.”

“Or gambling.” Emily adds.

You roll your eyes. “I don’t gamble.”

“You should. It’s a lot of fun. I’ll play you in Blackjack.” Emily smiles.

“Don’t play with her, she counts cards.” Reid murmurs absentmindedly as he reads over a file at his desk.

“I do not!”

Everyone laughs, but then the laughter dies away when Hotch comes out of his office. “Looks like no one gets to have fun for a couple of days.” Emily groans.

On the flight home after the case, you’re seated across from Spencer. Everyone else is asleep or has headphones in, even Hotch is passed out on the couch, which is rare. You still can’t sleep, so you stare out the window into the darkness as you fly over Virgina. Spencer clears his throat and you roll your head to look at him.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

You allow a small smile to form on your lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He swallows and puts the book in his hand down in his lap as he leans forward slightly. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but you don’t really seem like yourself lately. Are you sure you’re okay?”

The sore achy feeling of wanting to cry but holding it in burns your throat. You cough softly. “I’m okay, really. Just – having trouble sleeping.” You give just a little bit of information, hoping it assuages his curiosity.

“Is it that mystery person keeping you up at night?” He asks point-blankly.

Your mouth is agape and you snap it shut, “did you just make a joke?”

“I tried to.” He smiles and you match his smile with your own.

“There really isn’t anyone.” You shake your head. “I’ve never –” you almost let the rest of the sentence slip out, but stop yourself just in time. The lack of sleep is obviously affecting you more than you thought.

“You’ve never what?” The way he moves his body forward in his seat makes your heart thrum in your chest. His body language is clear, even a rookie behavioral analyst could tell, he was prepared to listen to what you have to say. Not only that, but he actually cared.

You bite the inside of your cheek before letting out a sigh. Before you answer, you lean closer toward him, “I’ve never had sex, actually.”

His eyes widen and he clears his throat, “you’re a –”

“Virgin,” you finish for him. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed by it. And it isn’t like I’m saving it or anything. It just hasn’t happened yet.” You shrug. “In all honesty, part of me just wants to pick some random person and get it over with.” You let out a small breathy laugh in an attempt to make you feel less awkward.

“Why haven’t you?” You meet his eyes. “I mean, just found a random person to get it over with?”

One of your shoulders lifts in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Like when I think about it, I realize that I’d rather have someone I trust, you know. Someone who would take care of me and not just see me as another notch on their bedpost. At least for the first time. And then after that, I’d feel more comfortable just going out and… you know.”

“Notching up some bed posts.” He nods knowingly and you giggle. He smiles, you notice that he enjoys making you laugh. A lot of the time it seems like people are maybe laughing at him or about him, but not you. He’s never the butt of the joke for you.

“Sure, Spencer.” You can’t help, but trail your eyes over him and contemplate the question that’s on the tip of your tongue. “How did you lose your virginity?”

He doesn’t seem offended or shocked by your question. “In college.”

You scoff, “weren’t you like twelve?”

“During my undergrad, yes. But I have multiple PhDs.”

“Of course, Doctor Reid.”

He shifts in his seat. “I was twenty. She was, uh, we worked in the same lab. And had the same research advisor.”

“So you two experimented on each other.” You joked.

Spencer’s face flushed and you felt a pang deep in your stomach. “In a way, yes.”

“I’m joking, Spencer.” He nods in understanding. “Were you like her boyfriend?”

“No, we just –”

“Hooked up.” You finish for him.

“For a couple months, yeah.”

Your mouth drops and you whisper, “you had a fuck buddy?”

His blush deepens. “I don’t think we ever called each other that.”

“What did you call her?”

“I don’t know. We never talked about it. I finished my doctoral thesis before her.” He shrugs.

“Wow, who knew.”

“What?”

“Morgan isn’t the only playa on the team.” You giggle and scrunch your nose, feeling the stress of the last few weeks dissipate from your shoulders.

“I’m not…” he laughs and shakes his head. He glances out the window. “We’re landing soon.” He swallows and leans back in his seat. It was terrible, but you had a strong urge to step across to his seat and straddle his lap and kiss him until you were both breathless. You turn your gaze back to the window and try to force the image away.

Your car wouldn’t start. You forcefully turned the key in the ignition again, and it sputtered and died. As you hit your steering wheel, you let out a frustrated noise and hit it again. You turn to grab your cell phone from your bag to call a tow truck and jump when you hear a knock on your driver’s side window. Spencer stands there apologetically, waving his hand with his closed mouth smile.

He steps aside when you open the car door and get out. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” You laugh bitterly. “My car won’t start and I need to get a tow.” You bite your lip, but can’t stop the tears that bubble over.

Spencer freezes, but then reaches out and touches your shoulder lightly. “It’s okay.” For some reason his comfort makes you cry harder. “Oh, uh, here,” he mutters and pulls you into a full hug. He squeezes you tight against him and rubs your back as you cry into his chest.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” You blubber into his shirt.

“No, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it?” You pull away from his chest to look in his eyes. “I’m failing at this job and –”

“Woah, failing at this job?” He interrupts. “Who said that?” His brows furrow angrily.

“No one.” You blink away the tears stuck in your eyelashes and Spencer reaches up and swipes away one that trails down your cheek.

“You’re not failing. You’re excelling. You’re incredible. Truly, I mean that. I wouldn’t lie to you. I promise.” He swallows and you realize how close to his face you are, his hands wrapped around your back.

You don’t stop yourself, even though you know you should, as you lean into him. His eyes flutter down to your lips, but he doesn’t pull away, so you keep going. Your lips touch his lightly, barely there before you back away.

His hands tighten on you and pull you closer to him. He chases your lips with his and kisses you back, your own hands are on his chest and they twist into his shirt. You kiss him fervently, his hands traveling to your lower back, arching you into him. A moan escapes from the back of your throat and it breaks the spell. Spencer pulls away from the kiss.

His lips are pink and shimmery and you want to kiss him again. Desperately. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, his tongue slipping out and swiping across his bottom lip.

“What for?” You blink.

“Kissing you.”

“I kissed you.”

“I kissed you back.”

“And you should do it again.”

His eyes dart to your lips. He wants to, you can tell, but he stops himself. “We shouldn’t.”

“Not here, at least.” You glance behind him and pray that the parking garage is completely empty. If your coworkers acted the way they did this morning about a nonexistent mystery person, you can only imagine their reactions if they saw you making out with Spencer.

“It’s inappropriate.”

“I don’t care.”

“There’s paperwork.”

“Not if we don’t tell anyone.”

“That’s not how that works.” He laughs, you can feel the vibrations of the sound against his chest.

“Do you always play by the rules, Dr. Reid?”

He swallows harshly, you watch the movement of his Adam’s apple bob against the tight skin of his neck. “I’ll drive you home.” He deflects.

You reach up on your toes and kiss him again. His hands spread on your back and press you against him and your hands pull him tighter to you, wrinkling his shirt. You hear footsteps and both of you step away from each other instantly, putting distance between your bodies. You turn your head to see a person you don’t recognize come into view from the other side of the parking garage. They don’t even glance in your direction. The hammering in your chest slows and you turn back to Spencer. He runs a hand through his hair.

“Grab your bag.” He says with an authority that makes you spring into action quickly. Neither of you say anything as you follow him down the rows of agents’ cars to his car. He opens the passenger side for you, the vintage car creaks in protest. He closes the door and you watch from the rearview mirror as he walks around the back of the car toward the driver’s side, his hands in his pocket.

He slides into the car seat and starts the car, it rumbles to life loudly. “I normally don’t even drive to work, just take public transportation. But I had an errand the other day.” He explains absentmindedly as he checks the rearview mirror and slowly backs out of the park spot.

“It’s kismet.”

“I always thought it was interesting that the English pilfered that word from the Turkish language. Considering words like fate and destiny already existed. Some etymologists attribute it to the rampant orientalism at the time. You know, like kismet was more mysterious or mystical or exciting than just simple fate.” He rambles and drives you out of the parking garage. A heady want begins to grow in your lower stomach. “And of course, the Turkish developed the word from an Arabic word meaning portion or lot. Which is fascinating.”

“It is.” You say earnestly.

He glances over at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble.”

“Don’t apologize. I like it.”

His eyes are already back on the road, but you can see his cheeks redden in a slight blush. “Where do you live?” He asks and you tell him. It isn’t a long drive, well it isn’t this late at night. Your morning commute is a nightmare. He gives you a brief look, “why did you join the BAU?”

You exhale a long breath before you answer. “I wanted to help people I guess. Which is so cliche, but it’s the truth. Like it isn’t even about putting bad guys away or whatever. I just want to make the world safer. For everyone.” You look over at him and he meets your gaze for a split second.

“You are doing a good job.” He states. You shake your head. “I mean it. You are. You’re making a difference. You’re helping people.”

“But how do you keep your head above water? I mean… how do you not let it beat you down?”

“We have each other. And you focus on the good.”

You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, letting his words sink in. “Thanks, Spencer. For everything today.”

He pulls into a parking spot in front of your apartment building. “I’ll walk you up.”

You go to unbuckle your seatbelt, but it doesn’t budge. You try again, but again, nothing.

“Oh, sometimes it sticks. Here,” he leans across the middle and reaches for your seatbelt buckle. His fingers graze the outside of your thigh and inhale sharply, electricity buzzing from the simplest of touches. He unbuckles you and you let the seat belt slide across your body, he doesn’t move away from you. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin, it enflames you.

“Spencer,” you whisper and turn your head toward him. His eyes slowly trail down your face toward your lips and then back up to your eyes. You can’t take it, so you lean forward and kiss him again. Tentative at first, waiting for him to respond. He does, his hands pulling your face closer to his, deepening the kiss. When you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip you open for him, let him explore and learn. You sigh into his mouth, your hands find their way to the back of his neck.

He slips away from you, breathless, but starts to kiss down your jaw. He mutters your name against your skin. You feel the warmth of his kisses travel down your spine toward your core.

“Come upstairs.” You sigh, when he bites lightly on a sensitive spot on your neck.

“I can’t. I shouldn’t.” He pants against your skin.

“I want you.”

He groans, deep and frustrated, and moves to lean his forehead against yours, both of your heavy breathing intermingling and becoming one. “You shouldn’t want me.”

“Why not? And don’t say the bullshit about us working together. I don’t care, Spencer. I trust you. I want you.”

He backs his head away from your forehead so that he can look into your eyes, his thumb against your cheek brushes back and forth. “You trust me?”

“With everything in me.” He kisses you again, softly, tenderly.

“I’ll take care of you.”

“I know.” You kiss him back and then pull away. He nods and you return it with a nod of your own.

His tongue glides across his lip and he swallows. You blink and he’s moving out of his seat and already at the passenger side door before you can reach for the handle. He opens it quickly and helps you out. It’s old school, but it makes your heart stutter and start. When he takes your hand in his, it feels like two magnets being drawn together. He slams the car door shut and you lead him up to your apartment.

Once you unlock your front door and guide him in, you shut the door and turn to look at him. You flick on the light. He stares at you and asks, “you’re sure?”

“Positive.” You step toward him and reach out to slide your hands across his stomach and then land on his waist. “Do I have to kiss you first again, or –” you don’t have to finish your question before his lips are on yours. His kisses are not tentative or searching, they’re needy and impassioned. Before long, you’re clawing at his shirt, untucking it from his pants and then reaching up to undo his tie.

He stops you as he breathes laboriously. “Wait, we should slow down.”

You continue to work on his tie, perpetually crooked, but now just an obstacle to what you need desperately. “I don’t wanna go slow.”

He moans and you finally get his tie undone and whip it off. “No, we should.”

Your fingers work deftly against his buttons, one at a time, and you look up at him. “I’m a virgin, but I’m not inexperienced. I’m not a delicate flower.”

His expression changes, his eyes grow heavy and he quirks his jaw. “Not inexperienced?”

“I’m not.” You almost sound like a petulant teenager.

“How far?”

“What?”

“How far have you gotten?” Your hands stop almost halfway through the third to last button. You don’t answer. His voice deepens, gravely and sexy, “you’ve clearly kissed before.” You nod. “Have you had someone feel your breasts?” As he asks the question, his hand reaches up and caresses your breast. You lean into the touch. “Has anyone put their mouth on your breasts, marking you as theirs? Rolling your nipple between their teeth?” He inclines his head into the crook of your neck and presses a hot kiss there. “Have you ever had somebody's mouth on your clit?”

Your breathing is sharp and jagged, but Spencer simply continues. “Would you let someone use their tongue to make you come? Or maybe even their fingers? Pump their fingers into until you're squirming?”

“Spencer,” you plead.

He continues to massage your breast as his other hand slips under your shirt and trails across your hips and stomach. “Or do you just mean that you’ve touched yourself? You’ve laid in bed and explored this beautiful body. Know just exactly how to make yourself shiver from your own fingers.”

You’re almost overwhelmed by his touch, his lips on your skin, and his words, your head is spinning, but you’re also desperate for more.

“We’re going to take it slow.” He informs you and it isn’t up for discussion. “Not because I think you’re a delicate flower.” He throws your own words back at you. “But because I want to take my time with you. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to touch every single inch of you with my hands. I want to make you come, I want to feel you come. Over and over again.” You’re practically shaking in his hands when his lips and teeth scrap across your jaw and to your lips. He takes them with his and you’re like clay on a potter’s wheel, malleable and completely at his will, waiting to be crafted into his masterpiece.

“Do you want that?” He breathes on your lips.

You somehow know instinctively that he wants a verbal confirmation, so you answer, “yes.”

He continues to kiss you, deeply, almost like a starved man tasting his first bit of sustenance. You answer with your own fervency. His hand at your hip squeezes and pulls you tight against him and you feel his want against you. It makes you moan. You grind your body against him and his grip tights even more.

“Bedroom. Where’s your bedroom?” He stutters, but doesn’t stop kissing you and you don’t stop either. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and twisting, holding him impossibly close to you. You didn’t know kissing could make you feel this way, simultaneously feverish and desperate, but also insatiable. You felt like you could kiss Spencer for a lifetime and never tire of it. He wasn’t close enough even though your bodies were pressed together, you needed more. The only thought in your brain is simply, more, more, more.

He pulls away from you, both of you taking heaving breaths. His lips were perfectly pink, your body thrummed with the knowledge that you caused such a change in him.

“Bedroom.” The single word went straight to your core. You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom.

Once you turn on the light, he’s behind you, pressing into you. You can feel every part of him, and he kisses the back of your neck. He’s back to being soft and gentle. He brings his hands to your stomach and inches them under your shirt until he has your breasts in his hands.

Your breasts feel heavy and logically you know why. Blood has rushed to them, just as it has rushed to your other erogenous zones, and it is sending a signal to your brain to release oxytocin. But you’re realizing that logic has no place in your head when Spencer’s hands and mouth are on you. Logic means nothing to you at this moment.

“You’re so beautiful.” He compliments as he fondles your breasts, your head lolls back against his chest. He angles his head so he can kiss your cheek. “You distracted me that very first case you were on. Did you know that?”

“No,” your eyes flutter shut when he moves down to kiss your jaw.

“I thought you were so gorgeous. After the case, I went home to my apartment and touched myself as I imagined you. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t even look you in the eyes the next morning.”

Your mind wanders back to all those months ago. “I thought I had done something wrong,” you remember.

“No, it was me. I was wrong. But I couldn’t stop. I mean you can feel what you do to me.” He was right, you could distinctly feel the effect you had on him.

“I thought of you too.” You confess.

“You did?” His voice is low and breathy and you nod. “In that bed.” He ticks his head to gesture toward it. “Tell me.”

You feel yourself heat with blush. His thumbs brush across your nipples through your bra and your breath gets caught in your throat. You swallow and answer. “I would lie there, normally because I couldn’t sleep. And then I’d think about you. Your hands, I’d think about your hands.”

“My hands?” He squeezes your breasts.

You nod and answer simultaneously, “yes. I’d imagine them on my body, touching me.” He brushes your nipples again and you shiver. “And I’d slip my hand into my underwear, and rub my clit. Pretend it was you.” His hands abandon your breasts and slide around to your back. You step forward as he takes off your shirt and then unhooks your bra and helps you out of it. His hands on your hips turn you to face him.

“I knew you were beautiful. But you’re perfect.” Your instinct is to feel self conscious under his gaze, but you push it away when you notice the admiration in his eyes.

You reach for him and finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt and then peeling it off of him. “Fair is fair.” You say. He laughs, but his laugh dies in his throat when your nails scratch down his chest.

Your hands explore his exposed chest and back, feeling the muscle move underneath soft skin, and he works to rid you of your pants. You use him for balance as you step out of your pants, but as soon as you're standing on two feet again, he backs you toward your bed.

When the back of your legs hit the bed, you allow yourself to fall back onto it. He leans over you, your legs open for him and he kisses you again. Your hands continue their previous tour of his back, now feeling how his shoulder blades move when he grinds against you.

The first time he does it, you throw your head back in a moan. Even though you have multiple layers of fabric between you, you can still feel the heat radiating through you. He does it again and you arch up to meet his movement. When he does it a third time your nails scratch down his back.

He makes a low noise from the back of his throat and you know that your panties are soaked. His lips take a journey down your body, kissing and nipping at your clavicle, your chest, spending a significant amount of time on both of your breasts, and down your stomach. Your clawing at his back by the time his mouth meets the band of your underwear.

“Look at you,” he whispers. His thumb rubs lightly at your clit over the fabric. Your thighs clench and he laughs. “Keep them open for me, baby.” You mewl at the pet name. “You like that? Being called baby?”

“Yes.” You groan out when his thumb repeats his earlier action.

He does it again, almost unbearably slow. “I want to taste you so bad. I’ve wanted to know how good you taste for so long.” His voice is strained.

“You can. I want you to.”

His hands skate up to the hem of your underwear and you lift your hips slightly as he pulls them down. You open your legs for him again and he swallows. “Stunning.” His mouth is on you before you have time to process the word.

Almost instantly, he moans against you, the vibrations causing your toes to curl. Your hands clench your duvet and he pulls away for a split second, “touch me.” You do what he asks, coiling your fingers into his hair. He laps at your clit, creating a pattern and rhythm that makes your buck up to meet him. His hands grip at your hips and hold you in place.

“Spencer, oh fuck,” you ramble. He answers by moaning against you again and then sucking your clit into his lips. You bite down a scream. The heat at the base of your spine spreads across your body. “Oh my god. Oh god.”

He alternates between lapping and sucking at your sensitive bud, your nails practically digging into his scalp, your toes curling, as you try to catch your breath. Just at the moment where it feels like too much, your body clenches and crashes over the edge of your ecstacy, his name falling from your lips repeatedly.

He continues to lap at you softly until your muscles relax in his arms and then he looks up at you, smiling and his lips glistening, “you’re incredible.” You pull him up, so that you can kiss him. You kiss the taste of you off his lips. He brings his head up to look at you, pushes away the stray hairs stuck to your forehead. “Are you going to get sick of me calling you beautiful?” He smiles.

“No, I don’t think I could.” He smiles into another kiss. His hands travel down your body and as soon as one of his fingers slides across your folds, the flames reignite.

“Is this okay?” He asks. “I want all of you.” One of his fingers slips inside of you and then he pulls it out. He slides it back in and then repeats his action, starting slow and building up to a comfortable tempo, as he continues to kiss you. Nothing about his movements is frantic, but rather languid and relaxed, gently stoking the growing fire inside of you. You grind your hips against his finger and he smoothly adds a second finger. The feeling is different, but not bad as you feel yourself accommodating the extra digit.

“Alright?” He checks in with you, looking into your eyes.

“It feels good.” It’s not like the times you’ve laid here in this bed with your fingers inside you. It’s an entirely divergent sensation that you don’t think your imagination would have been able to conjure. “Really good.”

“Yeah?” He stops sliding his fingers in and out and instead leaves them inside as he pumps them, almost as if he’s searching. He finds what he’s looking for when you gasp and cling to his shoulder.

“Yeah.” You nod furiously, biting down on your lip. He’s no longer building the tension within you. Instead, it’s like he’s playing with a taut rubber band, waiting for it to snap.

You feel your eyes start to close, wanting to roll to the back of your head. “Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see. Want to see you come apart for me.”

You force your eyes open. “Spencer…”

“I know, relax into it.” His thumb starts to rub your clit. “You’re doing so good.”

“Oh my god,” you start to mutter and ramble again, a mixture of curses and Spencer’s name. You never break eye contact with him. It’s intense, but also intimate.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?”

You let out a whine in answer and feel a muscle in your thigh twitch. Your core clenching on his fingers, the wet sounds of his fingers inside of you filling the room. The grip on his shoulders is tight and you hope it isn’t painful, but he barely seems to notice, all of his attention is on you. The mixture of admiration and lust on his features is almost too much. But you’re realizing that Spencer Reid never does anything part way or half-assed. Once Spencer puts his mind to something, he’s going to accomplish it. Not only that, but he’s going to put an almost Herculean effort into it. And somehow, you’ve become something he’s put his mind to. The thought makes you lean up and kiss him.

You kiss him until a gasp separates your lips from him. “So perfect,” he muses. Your core constricts and contracts on his fingers. Your breathing is short and your legs feel like they’re shaking, but you can’t really tell. “Come for me.”

One more shaky breath and then you do, the rubber band snaps. Your body arcs up into him and he swallows your shout with his lips, kissing you deeply. Again, he slows down but doesn’t stop, guiding you down from your high. When he does pull his fingers from you, you watch as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean.

This time you don’t need him to rekindle the flame of need inside of you, it's already there. You reach between your bodies for his belt. Together, the two of you make quick work of the last of his clothing. And then he’s kissing you again, both his hands and your own caress, rub, and grab at each other. You reach down lower and lower, until you meet his hardened length with your hand. You grip the base and he falters.

“I’d love that. Really, I want it so bad. But I won’t last, baby.” You squeeze him again and smile up at him, fluttering your eyelashes. “You’re a vixen.” He laughs, kissing you.

“I want you.”

“Fuck. I don’t have a condom.” You blink, it’s the first time you’ve ever heard Spencer drop the f-bomb. You giggle.

“I have some.” One of his eyebrows raises in question and you shrug. “I like to be prepared. They’re over there.” You gesture toward your nightstand and he stretches over to open it.

“Oh,” he lets out a surprised gasp and just then you remember what else is in your top drawer. “I guess you don’t just use your fingers to masturbate, do you?” He laughs.

You reach up behind you and grab a pillow and toss it at him. He dodges it and it falls to the floor. “Like I said, I’m a virgin, not inexperienced.”

Spencer grabs the box of unopened condoms, opens it and pulls one out. He carefully places the box back, his eyes lingering on your menagerie of sex toys.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“I have an eidetic memory. I’m remembering… for later.” He smiles and you feel your heart speed up, pounding against your ribcage. You hadn’t had time to discuss anything past tonight. His smile falters. “I mean – I don’t mean to presume anything. Only if you want.”

You reach over to him and pull him back toward you, kissing him. “I do. I want there to be a next time. Other times.”

He looks down at you, searching. “Good, I do too.” He kisses you and only pulls away to put on the condom. He continues his kisses as he moves to position himself, spreading your legs for him. He brushes his thumb over your clit again and you moan. When he lifts his head from yours and glances up at you. You nod your head.

You feel the tip of him at your entrance, pressing against you, but not fully in. That’s all he does at first, until you move on him and allow him to slip into you. He works himself into you, allowing you to stretch around him. It isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s definitely a new sensation. None of your toys feel like him. Both of you watch as his penis slowly disappears inside of you. He pushes in the last inch with a thrust. There’s a flash of a pinch and you let out a breath.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” He nods, licks his bottom lip and then resumes his circles on your clit. It only takes a few seconds for you to relax on him. You grind your hips, somehow taking him deeper. He groans. “Move, Spencer. Please.”

He inches out of you and then pushes back in without any urgency or force. He starts the same pattern and rhythm his fingers had used earlier that night. The feeling of him moving inside of you is incredible, you can feel him dragging against your walls. His body against yours, skin to skin, more connected than you’ve ever been with anyone else. Between the feeling of him pumping into and his movement against your clit, it doesn’t take long until you’re clawing at his back, wordlessly asking him for more. He answers, creating a relentless rhythm that you grind your hips to match.

At some point, your eyes had shut and you hadn’t realized and so you force them open again, wanting to watch Spencer come apart just like he watched you. “You feel so good. Better than I could have imagined.” He starts to ramble. “I can’t believe I get to feel you like this. So good.”

His eyes shoot down to watch himself slip in and out of you. “Fuck.” He cusses again. You decide you like when he curses, especially if you’re the reason. He moves his hips and his cock finds the same spot his fingers found earlier and you clench around him as you let out a deep groan.

You lose track of time, it moves at a snail’s pace, but also at the speed of light. Time ceases to exist to you, your world shrinks down to only the two of you, everything else falls away. And then you’re falling again, diving headfirst into an orgasm.

“Yes, yes. I love feeling you like this. Oh my god… oh fuck. I’m gonna –” he sputters.

You reach up and pull his lips to yours, kissing him through his own orgasm. He shakes above you as he pumps into you with a final harsh push. And then when he peaks, he slowly fucks into you through his orgasm. He continues to kiss you until both of your breathing returns to normal and then he lifts his head to look at you.

He smiles and you can’t help it when a huge toothy smile appears on your own face.

“Are you okay?” He inquires.

“I’m perfect.”

His hand reaches up and caresses the side of your face. “You are.”

The next morning you walk into the office still smiling. Everyone is around the desks, including Spencer. He glances over at you and nods in greeting, as if you hadn’t just said goodbye to him a few hours ago, the first golden rays of dawn streaming through your bedroom window.

“Good morning.” You say to everyone. You set your go bag down at your desk and Emily smiles over at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Oh, Morgan. You had it all wrong.” She teases.

Morgan looks at Emily and then over to you. “What?”

“That is the look of a woman who got it real good last night.” Emily laughs, loud and brash. You smile with her and Penelope gasps.

“Tell. Me. Everything.” She runs over to you and grabs onto your arm.

“I have no idea what you mean.” You reply innocently.

JJ smirks. “Oh, she got it real good last night.”

“Is sex all you guys think about?” You joke. The girls laugh and Morgan still seems confused. Spencer is focused on the file on his desk, but his finger isn’t moving down it and you know he isn’t reading it. “I had a good night last night.” You give a small inch, just to stave them off. Penelope squeals. You grab her hand. “And that’s all I’ll say about it.”

“Boo!” Emily exclaims.

Penelope almost pouts. “Oh, you are the worst!”

“I know!” You laugh gleefully. Spencer looks up for only a split second, but you catch it and he smiles at you.

“I’ll find out eventually. You do know that, right?” Penelope warns.

“You are terrifying.” You squeeze her arm and turn away from the group to start on your mountain of files. It’s true that eventually everyone would probably find out about you and Spencer, but for now the two of you get to live in your own personal world. You smile to yourself.

tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx @alicentswife @ingrid69rs @sobbingcryingattsizzles @infinitegalaxiesworld

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #my writing #ohh my god i did not mean to write this much lmao

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xxnashiraxx · 2 months ago

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Pairing: Astarion/f!Tav ~ Astarion/f!OC (Ofelia) Word Count: 9,709 Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Does this Count as Monster Smut?, Oral, PIV Sex, Fingering, Masturbation, Stomach Bulge, Blood Drinking, Very Minor Dubcon (if you squint), Choking Summary: A gifted grimoire from her friends spells trouble when Ofelia accidentally summons an incubus. ~ An Incubus Astarion AU lovingly written and inspired by this artwork by @poofroom featuring my Tav and longfic main character, Ofelia!

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AO3 | Song Reference: Christian Woman by Type O Negative

I'm hoping to complete at least 4 prompts this month, once a week, but my main fic is my upmost priority! Still, I'm really excited to share this one!! @khywren really inspired me with their recent AMAZING writings, please check out their Kinktober 2024 works so far! You won't be disappointed! 🖤

No forgiveness,

For her sins.

Prefers punishment.

Would you suffer eternally?

Or internally?

For her lust,

She’ll burn in hell.

Her soul done medium well.

***

“There, all done!” Ofelia says to herself, dropping the white chalk she’d used to draw the symbol from the spellbook. It’d been a silly present from one of her friends- a gag gift, really. Spirit of the season and all that. What else is she supposed to do on a Friday night after three pina coladas and zero luck?

All her prospects were dull, and all of them had made some kind of backhanded remark about her intelligence or appearance at some point during the conversation that her interest had waned instantly. She’d definitely been to better Halloween parties.

For her own amusement, she sits and holds a candle up, briefly reading over the pages. She’s got the first ingredient, flickering restlessly in her other hand, the food offering to her right (a popcorn ball), something to channel the energy (a crystal that came with the book), and currency of some kind (a few quarters from her laundry fund). The last requirement is her blood.

“Whatever,” She shrugs, setting the candle down on its point in the star before leaning over to grab the pocket knife she’d used to open the package. She’s still tipsy, and explaining away a bandaged hand tomorrow doesn’t seem like that big of an issue to her at the moment.

She carefully presses the blade's tip into the meat of her palm and drags in one clean slice, wincing and holding her hand over the point closest to her. Droplets dot the white chalk with red and she clenches her fingers, waiting until there’s a small puddle, before getting up to grab her first aid kit and wrap the wound. Once reseated, she examines the page, noting something looks off, but neglecting to read further into why the diagrams are different before reciting the words at the bottom of the page.

She holds her breath, eyes scanning the apartment, before settling back on the circle. And… nothing happens.

“Oh!” She gasps when the candle blows out, expecting some kind of grand entrance- maybe a ring of fire! Or a black pit, opening within the symbol! But nothing comes.

She pouts dejectedly and gathers the items up before chucking them all into a box. She glares at the book, clasped between her fingers, and sighs. If anything, she’d hoped for a little excitement from this tonight- but magic isn’t real, and despite her alcohol-addled mind, she was a fool to think she could conjure it.

She gets up and opens her top dresser drawer, tossing the book in without a second thought as she checks the time on her phone- almost one. She walks into the living space, which is technically still part of her bedroom and separated only by a meager curtain. Her TV is off and silent against the wall, and she pulls her hoodie off to toss over the back of her couch.

The cool air flows in from her window AC and blesses the exposed skin around her costume- she’d gone as a devil, the strapless red bodysuit and pink tights still clinging to her. She pulls the headache-inducing horned headband off and sets it next to her sweater, turning and scanning the room for her prize. She smiles when she sees it, fetching the half-empty bottle of Malibu from the counter before downing it until her fingers numb and a delightful buzz thrums in her head. The night had been long, and an untold amount of sticky fluids had gotten on her legs, arms, and torso during the party so a shower before turning in feels like the perfect idea.

She goes into the bedroom to tug the bodice of the costume down until her breasts are free, breathing a sigh of relief when the constricting fabric is finally off. Her tights follow after, leaving her in nothing but her underwear as she moves towards her dresser. Her eyes linger on the book when she opens the drawer to pull out a night dress and she almost closes it before cocking a brow. Her hand hovers over her favorite slip as her eyes fall onto the page she’d been referencing when she drew the circle, but she swears it had been closed when she’d thrown it inside. The scrawl below it almost looks handwritten, not printed, but when Ofelia tries to read it, goosebumps gradually spread over her arms and legs and she scoffs at the words she can decipher.

“What the hell does ‘mind-altering satisfaction’ mean?” She mutters as she closes the book and grabs her dress before shoving the drawer closed again.

She starts the shower before discarding the remaining scrap of cloth into her hamper, leaning against her sink to wipe her makeup off. Tossing the cotton pads into the trash, she jumps under the hot stream, a low hum leaving her lips. It feels amazing as it rushes over her skin and douses her hair. She runs her hands up over her body, jumping when she caresses the sides of her breasts. They’re extra sensitive, and in her tingling, buzzing mind she feels her stomach tighten in response.

She shrugs. No one had been worthy to take home anyway. Might as well make the most of the night.

Her fingers ghost over her nipples and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip in an effort to stifle the sound that nearly tears out of her throat. Stars dance behind her eyes and she laughs incredulously, wiping the hair plastered to her cheeks away. It’d never felt this intense, and curiosity coaxes her hands lower as she carefully slips a finger between her legs.

“God!” She hisses, catching herself before she falls onto the tiled floor. Her vision nearly whites under the slightest glance against her clit and she heaves for breath, both palms pressing against the wall. She’d only drank her usual cocktails, and had been watching her drink like a hawk all night, so being exposed to something slipped into her glass at the party is out of the question. She shakes her head, cursing as her clit begins to throb steadily against the water streaming down the front of her body. She suppresses another groan, clenching her thighs together as she rinses out the remaining suds from her hair.

The need humming through her veins is almost blinding, and with shaking hands she pushes her hair back before leaning against the wall. She won’t fall this time… won’t fall…

She cries out as she runs her middle finger along her slit, teeth sinking into the soft skin of her forearm. Her entire body shakes from the pleasure of it, so intense that it weakens her knees and she almost buckles to the floor again. She bites harder to center herself, afraid of the bruise that will surely stand out in the morning, but she’ll manage.

She dips between her folds, the slick beneath so copious she can feel it through the stream from the showerhead. She moans and cautiously presses a finger inside, slowly, but no matter how careful she could have been, it doesn’t stop the sharp coil in her gut and the shockwave of ecstasy that flashes from the roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes.

She mewls like an untouched virgin, mind hazy with want. This… this is unlike anything she’s ever felt- not like she’s had much experience in that department- but every nerve feels like it’s on fire. The shower turns to ice and she has to step out, body quivering and skin clammy despite the temperature of the water.

She grabs the towel, whining as the fabric rubs against the sensitive flesh on her breasts before slipping her nightgown over her head. The thin black satin and lace clings to her and she stares at the mess in the mirror as she dries her hair, eyes catching on the stiff peaks on her chest straining against the fabric. They trail up over her arms and her shoulders before stopping and freezing.

“What the hell…?” She whispers, dropping the towel to press up against the sink again, trying to ignore the little shivers of pleasure when her nipples rub against the chilled granite. Her fingers seek the strange marks that circle her neck almost like a tattoo, the dashes and squiggles familiar, almost…

There’s no way. There’s no way.

Ofelia doesn’t stop to pick her towel up off the floor, sweat making her damp hair stick to her face and neck as it breaks out over her entire body. She opens the drawer once more to the book open, not closed as she’d left it. She swears and pulls it out, setting it on top as she looks at the scrawl over the page opposite to the sigil. It’s indecipherable, in some kind of language or symbols she can’t read, but it matches the marks on her skin perfectly. Whatever they are, they’re definitely a result of the ritual, and Ofelia sinks into a sitting position on her mattress as regret fills her mind.

I shouldn’t have done that. God, I’m so stupid. Mama warned me never to mess with this stuff. Ofelia chews on her cuticles, nervous energy humming alongside the desire burning in her body. Every sense of hers is attuned to the way the slip touches her skin, how her clit throbs for attention, how she clenches around nothing, aching to fill the void.

It isn’t natural, and that fact scares her more than she’d like to admit. She pushes the craving to touch out of her mind, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear before crawling beneath her duvet. It’s hot, so hot… her skin feels like lava- her heart beat skyrocketing. Maybe she’s going to die?

“Oh god, I’m so stupid. So stupid!” She sobs, shoving her face into the pillow as she lays on her stomach. The pressure makes her roll her hips before she can stop herself and she whimpers, biting the silk pillowcase to redirect her frustration. Maybe she should give in and see if that’ll end this torment, but the unease of the situation needles at her mind... She rolls over and tugs the blanket around her chin, twisting her hips and drumming her fingers over her stomach. The length of the day settles over her shoulders and it weighs her down despite the sweat on her skin and the ache between her legs. She tries not to picture the relief she’d feel if her legs were spread instead, slip tugged over her chest, underwear discarded. She groans and shuts her eyes, somehow drifting off to sleep.

She dreams in scattered images, flashing across her vision like a picture show. Hot, begging, on her knees. A man with strong hands and sharp teeth touches her heated skin, peels her dress off, mouths at her breasts… her haggard breathing is audible in the room, echoing off the walls, her hips rolling into his touch, her mouth closing around-

Her eyes fly open, the curtains in front of her window fluttering in the breeze as the clock registers that it’s only one thirty. It takes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and she vaguely recalls not leaving it open… The covers fall off her chest when she sits up, soft moonlight pouring in to paint her body a cool blue. The slip rides up her hips, breasts spilling out the sides, and something moves out of the corner of her vision that sparks gooseflesh to spread over her bare thighs and arms.

The curtain flutters away, revealing the silhouette of a man. Except it isn’t a man… As the light illuminates the hard cut of his torso, bat-like wings stretch and unfurl on either side of him, wicked horns curling up and over his silver hair. Red irises glow in the night, trained on her face, a tail swishing behind him. She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move- her heart pounds, but her body reacts in a way she hadn’t expected. Her skin breaks out in the same feverish sweat that she’d felt before crawling into bed, her stomach aching and her breathing coming in short pants. She chances a glance in the full length mirror across the room, her cheeks flushing red at the uselessness of her night dress. The marks that had started at her neck circle her wrists and close around her thighs like bands.

“Am I dreaming?” She asks softly, unable to resist the pull she feels towards him. He takes a step and she tenses, eyes admiring his broad shoulders, ornamental silver bracers covering each forearm. Most of his body is bare, save for the thin piece of satiny fabric and gilded chains covering his hips. Her eyes trace the trail of hair that disappears beneath, down until her breath chokes out of her. Her thighs press together at the hard outline beneath the loincloth, her imagination filling in the gaps- thick, straining, throbbing. Her mouth floods with saliva and she swallows thickly as the steady pulse from earlier begs for attention, shame dissolving as his crimson gaze flows down over her exposed breasts. The sudden urge to touch him fills her mind until it’s all she can think about, even as he opens his mouth to expose sharp canines.

“I’m afraid not.” His voice, smooth and velvety, covers her body like honey. She shivers as he takes another step, so close now that she can see the sharp tips of his ears beneath his hair. His lips curl into a fiendish grin and she shakes her head, wanting him closer, god, she can’t take the distance anymore. Some fire’s possessing her and she feels herself clench again, the sudden instinct to grind against the mattress and relieve the tension leaving her dazed. Her mind roars, wanting more than anything she’s ever wanted before to have him touch her. It drowns rational thoughts, save for a single line of curiosity.

“What are you?” She can’t help but ask, though her eyes can’t be deceiving her. He appraises her with a considering gleam, his wings folding back and out of the way. The horns have to be enough- the devilish tail. His soft laugh covers her body in a fresh wave of heat and she closes her eyes.

“You summoned me, shouldn’t you know?” She opens her eyes and he’s hovering right across from her at the end of the bed. Eye level with his stomach, she bites back the whimper of need that tries to push past her clenched teeth at the sight of him, his little strip of fabric doing nothing but veiling the color of his skin. She feels a gush of wetness between her legs as she clenches and strains to stay still, huffing her breath out.

“Didn’t think it would work. Are you the one that’s doing this to me?” She mutters, too late to cover her breasts but she does it anyway- anything to remain in the illusion of control. The sharp tick of his smile tells her he isn’t buying it, and she widens her eyes in surprise when his wings disappear. He drops his knees onto the mattress and she yelps when it dips.

Fuck… he’s real.

“What did you think would happen when you opened a black grimoire and chose a spell? That an imp would pop up and throw money at you?” She bites her lip, watching his long black fingernails clench the duvet and pull it farther down the bed.

“Well…” His eyes flash with annoyance.

“All you humans are the same- power, money, fame, wealth. Make a mistake? Wrong page?” She bristles at his sudden chiding, cursing her friends for giving her the damn thing. She’s going to throttle them tomorrow.

“So what? Can’t you just go back to where you came from?” She sucks in a breath when he draws closer, hands planting themselves on either side of her ankles. She watches him carefully, the way the light shines through the thin fabric of his loincloth to show her the heavy shadow of his cock beneath, and she bites the inside of her cheek when her clit throbs at the sight.

“I’m contracted, stupid mortal. Your blood has bound me to this plane. I can't just go back.” He sneers and she squirms as he crawls forward again, his head hovering over her hips. Her mind imagines filthy things with him so close, her body betraying her as her thighs untense and spread softly- barely a few inches- but it’s enough. She watches his gaze drop to the arms covering her chest, then lower, and she snaps her legs back together.

“Um… sorry. What contract? What does it entail?” He looks back up at her, lips pressed into a firm line of disappointment and she glares back.

“You didn’t read the fine print?”

“What fine fucking print? I can’t read half the words on those pages!” She cries out indignantly, not realizing her frustrated gesturing has left her chest exposed again. He surges forward quicker than she can react and with the sharp edges of his nails, he rips the straps off her dress, causing her breasts to fall free properly. She yelps, instinctively trying to cover up again but he snaps his fingers and the script on her wrists glows, making her palms flatten against the bed.

“I’ll let you guess the terms,” He murmurs, sitting back on his heels. She squirms, trying to free her arms, and when he snaps his fingers again she can lift them.

“What- what was that?” She whispers, fear clouding her voice. He smirks, his hands resting on his thighs, and gestures towards the dresser.

“Says it in the fine print.”

“Please?” She whimpers, hugging her torso tightly. She’s afraid- afraid of the patterns on her thighs, on her wrists, on her neck. She stares at them warily, the terror that had been muted by her lust now stretching into every part of her body. What’s going on? What is he? What’s going to happen to me?

“Tssk,” He settles back fully, legs crossing on her mattress. Her eyes move over his face again, catching on his pretty red eyes, his full lips. The slope of his nose is beautiful- strong and sharp. She traces his features, finding her heartbeat slowing slightly the longer she takes him in. His lips part, revealing those sharp fangs on both the top and bottom row of his teeth, and she idly wonders what they’d feel like on her neck, on her skin… “Darling… I can’t have you afraid of me. That’s not how this night is going to go.” His soft voice makes her shiver and she’s lulled by the sound of it. She raises her head slightly, gaze growing heavier the longer he stares at her.

“How this night is going to go…?” She echoes, slow, the end shaped like a question. His tail swishes back and forth before the spade tip caresses up her calf. With him finally touching her, she gasps, the softest glance magnified like it was earlier. She shudders, pressing her thighs more tightly together, shaking her head, but her body eventually wins out.

“The terms, dear…” He murmurs, leaning forward again. Her skin is feverish when his tail draws away and he crawls over her again. She shrinks back, lying against her pillows, his thighs caging her in as his hands settle on either side of her head.

“Uh…” She stammers, trying to get a coherent thought through. He’s so close she can see small flecks of gold in his eyes and the soft ridges on his horns. She finds herself wanting to caress them, the thought causing her cheeks to burn. “Terms… right. The spell is making me… making my body act like this?” She whispers cautiously and he nods, encouraging her to continue. “It made these… weird tattoos show up on my skin… and you can control them?” He nods again, eyes twinkling in amusement. Her nostrils flare in irritation, but she keeps going, realization finally dawning as she approaches the conclusion.

“I… this lust… oh my god…” He tuts, smirking with satisfaction.

“You finally understand?” The growl in his voice makes her eyes flutter shut. With the answer flaring brightly behind her lids, her body opens up in a way it hadn’t before. Her thighs spread until they’re pushing against his knees, her breath leaving her in a rush. She clenches around nothing, thinking about the shape of him under the loincloth and when her eyes snap open again he laughs, deep and sugared.

“You want my body?” She asks breathlessly, the slip hanging over her stomach becoming itchy and unbearable. His lashes fall halfway and when his forked tongue darts across his lower lip she whimpers in response.

“Usually you call an incubus because you need relief, but… your scent is maddening and I've barely even touched you…” He purrs, lips dropping down to her jaw. She moans at the slightest touch, her cunt clenching again followed by a rush of wetness dripping down her folds. Her underwear are long since ruined, and she slowly moves her hands up, hesitating over him.

“Can I… touch you?” She gasps, the last threads of restraint slowly snapping. He pulls away, hungry eyes raking over her face and neck and down to her breasts. She tugs her lower lip into her mouth, watching him nod, before caressing the planes of his chest.

His skin is so hot… a lovely shade of light rose. Her fingers ghost over his collarbones before pressing up, up, to the sides of his face. His crimson gaze flicks back up to meet hers and she teeters over the edge, debating, before he makes the decision for her and leans down to capture her lips.

Wet and messy, their tongues tangle and she whimpers into his mouth, hands carding through his hair. He tastes divine… or wicked, she isn’t sure which. His kiss is hot, lips soft and she moans against his tongue when his teeth catch on her lip to lightly nip at it. It’s all her favorite flavors at once and she can’t keep her hips on the bed, wanting to pull him in closer, wanting to feel the hard edge of his cock-

“Nnng!” She gasps when he nudges his shaft against her stomach, the weight of it making her dizzy. Her clit pulses and blood pounds through her, vocalizing the wave of desire in breathy pants against his mouth. He doesn’t stay quiet either- the sounds and groans he makes turning her insides to liquid as she rocks against him, hands clawing at his back. His anchor on her dress and a loud tear sounds through the room as he rips it free.

“Hey! That was my favorite!” She protests, but he’s sinking his knees between her thighs and tossing the scraps away, revealing her naked torso to him. The anger dies as she watches him draw back, and can almost feel the burning of his gaze over her body. She squirms again, clamping her legs around his, wanting to hide from the attention but it’s all in vain. All for show. She couldn’t deny him now even if she wanted to.

“Darling, don’t lie. You’re just as impatient as I am,” His voice is deep, sitting in the back of his throat. She inhales sharply, watching him lower himself to press his nose into the hollow of her neck. His cock settles over her heat, separated by two layers of fabric, and before she can grind into it his hands are on her hips, forcing them still.

“God…” She whispers, the steady throb against her aching bud making her jaw go slack. He laps at the skin of her neck, making her legs twitch, before his sharp upper canines sink in. If she’d been delirious before… she’s absolutely lost now.

She cries out, heart pounding as he slowly drags his heavy length over her soaked underwear. His loincloth is covering the image from sight as she angels her jaw down, delighting in every bite he peppers over her neck and shoulder. She drags her fingers over his horns and he groans, hips stuttering, the sound needy and desperate. She continues caressing as his tail flicks in the air, pleased and tenderly mouthing at the aching wounds he’s left on her. They sting, but there’s something new in the mix- churning around her gut and making her mouth spill constant sighs and pants as her vision goes hazy and pink.

“W-what do I call you?” She asks, taking in his messy curls and kiss-swollen mouth. Blood stains his lips and a curl of want pulses south at the sight, wanting him to push her panties to the side and rub directly against her, the pressure so distracting she almost rolls her hips automatically, chasing the feeling of him.

He cocks a brow, inhaling deeply before a delicate smile crosses his face. His tail winds around her leg and she laughs in spite of herself, enjoying the way the tip rubs soft circles into the inside of her thigh.

“Astarion,” He murmurs, and she lowers her hands from his horns, eyes darting to his groin.

“Astarion…” She rolls his name around on her tongue, the subtle shiver that shifts through him not going unnoticed. “Mine’s Ofelia,” She mumbles and he strokes her cheek.

“Ofelia,” She preens at how he says it, a flush spreading over her cheeks in response. Her fingers push into the cloth at his hips, a silent question hanging in the air as she gently tugs on it. He nods and she fiddles with the clasp at the side of his hip before it falls and flutters away, leaving him exposed.

She isn’t sure if it’s the side effects of the spell or simply her own desire, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of him.

“Oh.” Is all she says, like an idiot. Her eyes admire the girth- thick veins spreading over the shaft. He’s nearly purple at the tip, leaking onto her underwear, and she shifts restlessly at the sight as her mouth floods with saliva and her clit aches as he nudges against it.

“I see I’m going to have to do all the sweet-talking, pet.” She shudders as his hands brush along her trembling stomach muscles, down to her thighs, before guiding her underwear down and off. They run back up the length of her torso, softly squeezing and kneading at the soft flesh of her breasts as his lips catch on one of her nipples. She whimpers at the sensations building inside, chasing his touches with her fingers, craving more contact with an almost crazed fervor. She’s still hypnotized by the length of him as he gently rubs his cock between her puffy folds and she swallows, strangled moans caught in her throat. The hard ridge along his tip drags over her swollen clit and in addition to the lightning bolt of pleasure that coaxes more juices to spill from her, the urge to taste him is so intense that it feels like it’s written on her bones.

“I… I want you here.” She mumbles, fingers tracing her face, and he laughs.

“You want to see… if you can take me… in your pretty mouth…?” He whispers, thumb brushing over her lower lip. She nods desperately, parting them to suck him in as her body trembles in anticipation. His jaw tightens as he watches, her tongue swirling around his warm skin, fierce with desire. She hums when his cock twitches, softly bumping her stomach when he moves as a quiet sound vibrates in his chest. He watches her a moment more, eyes burning, before he shifts to the side and drags her off the bed, onto the floor.

She sits obediently on her knees, closing her eyes as his fingers thread into her hair. His touch is soft, and her face warms as she realizes what he’s doing, but embarrassment has long since receded into the recesses of her mind. He gathers the strands at the back of her head before tugging gently- just the way she likes. She sighs, opening her eyes to shamelessly stare at him, yearning to lick the pearl of glistening pre-cum off his flushed tip. She flicks her eyes up to his and the desire she sees there lights a fire in her belly that spurs her forward, hands resting over his hips as she sets her sights and dives in.

Astarion hisses when she kisses the base of him, bathing him in her attention and affectionate nips. Her thighs shiver as she continues her trail of teasing, his grip on her scalp growing tighter. She flashes him a soft smile before kissing down the weighty length of him, lips parting when she pulls away to watch him leak a silvery strand down to her breasts. She swallows a breathy whine before eagerly lapping it up, her ears ringing from the sharp inhale and throaty groan he gives her when she finally sucks the tip inside.

He fills her entire mouth before she can draw him in further and her cunt clenches with jealousy imagining him pushing inside, on her back, a bruising grip on her hips… Her fantasies play behind her closed lids as she hollows her cheeks and relaxes her jaw to swallow more, moaning lightly as he nudges the back of her throat.

Tears form in her eyes as she blinks up at him, her hips restless as he tugs on her hair and pulls out of her mouth before slowly thrusting inside. The fingers of her free hand trail down her body, pinching at the pebbled flesh on her breasts before dipping lower to alleviate some of the tension winding around her belly. She spreads the slick gathering at her entrance, circling her aching clit, and her eyes squint shut, sobbing at the spark of pleasure that flashes up her body, his cock twitching in her mouth.

“Hells…” He whispers, her mind slowly melting the longer he fucks her mouth. Her entire body aches for him, for this pleasure- she squirms and whimpers, letting him set the pace as she rocks against her hand. He’s considerate of her adjustment period until a glimmering sweat breaks out on his chest and her eyes track a drop as it follows the curve of his pelvic bone. When it meets his shaft a switch flips and she abandons all rational thought for the need to please.

She struggles to take him fully, but every time he needly ruts into her and her lips meet his hips he grunts- a gravelly, greedy thing that stokes the heat in her belly until she’s whimpering and shivering for more. He’s making a mess out of her, and she increases the pace, removing her hand from its previous position to pull his hips in each time they snap forward hungrily. He smears spit and slick over her chin each time he slips out until it's dripping over her breasts and fingers, her thumbs swirl the fluid over the stiff peaks of her nipples as waves of pleasure rumble through her- just as strong as it had been in the shower, perhaps even more.

They lock eyes as he angles her chin to take more of him, electricity shooting through her as her tongue swirls around before lingering on the sensitive underside of his head. He yanks her hair and hisses, in one fluid motion pistoning inside and she moans on his cock. Her mind is blissfully blank as he pins her against the side of the bed, reveling in the way he twitches and cups her cheek as he drives in and out, in and out at a languid pace. The blunt head of his cock kisses the back of her throat again, his stomach muscles tightening, and her fingers brush over the seam of his balls until his hips stutter and a raspy moan pours from his mouth. She holds his gaze, taking him impossibly deeper, and she whines in disapproval when he slips out with a lewd pop.

“Can’t have you driving the whole time, darling,” He murmurs, and she gasps when he leans down to meld their lips together in a bruising kiss. The enthusiasm behind his touches makes her hum happily and he places a hand over her throat before squeezing and forcing her to stand. His tight grip makes her dizzy and she sways on her feet, mind blank, as he chuckles and presses them tightly together.

“Like that, do you?” He murmurs in her ear and she nods, wrapping her arms around his waist as his sharp canines brush against her skin.

“Do you… drink the blood?” She whispers, brief flashes of curiosity drifting through her lust-clouded mind.

“Hmm?” She draws back so their lips brush, the striking scarlet of his eyes inquisitive and rapt.

“You had blood on your lips earlier, when you bit me…” She whispers, watching his face shift in recognition.

“Ahh… that.” He grins, a fang peeking out from under his top lip and it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. “It’s common for us to partake- the magic in your blood increases your sense of touch and your blood in turn does for us as well. It’s why you needed to sacrifice it for the spell.” His smile twists into something sinful, her legs pressing together. “Somehow, I hardly need the encouragement...” He whispers as his hands softly squeeze her ass. She smiles in reply, eyes lingering on his teeth and she hesitantly presses a kiss to his jaw. More follow, light and sweet as his grip fluctuates from gentle to rough when her lips brush over his neck.

“Can I…?” She asks and he nods at her testing teeth before she sinks her own into his skin. He sighs into her ear, his hands caressing her back as his sharp nails lightly scratch over her skin. She whimpers into the marks she leaves him with, nipping up to his earlobe before teasing the skin between her teeth. He stills and groans, grinding his stiff length against her hip and she licks up to the pointed tip before sucking it lightly into her mouth.

“Ofelia…” Her name rumbling in his chest makes her dizzy and she moves her left hand up to tickle the other ear until he’s driving them forward. The back of her knees connect with the mattress and she yelps, falling flat on her back as he stands between her parted thighs. His eyes are dark- the red eclipsed by his blown wide pupils, and her body shivers in fear. She feels hunted, prey beneath a ravenous lion, and the feeling twists her insides as he drops to a crouch and lifts her legs until they’re resting over his shoulders. She almost moans at the sight…

“I can’t leave until you’re satisfied…” He murmurs, nipping at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. His fangs graze the skin before he sinks them in and that rosy haze covers her vision again, her mind numb to the rest of the world as she focuses on what his mouth is doing. He’d been right about whatever’s in his saliva or bite as electricity tingles beneath her skin, every one of his touches sending sparks down the length of her body.

“God… I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of this.” She mumbles, forehead creasing in an effort to concentrate on him. He chuckles darkly, his burning gaze intertwined with hers and as she watches her blood drip from the corner of his lips her body twitches in response. It’s the most erotic thing she’s ever seen, almost hotter than when she’d peeled off the cloth, and she whines under his smug smile.

“Don’t go saying that now…” He whispers as he presses soft kisses up, closer to where she needs him most. “Or I’ll be tempted to show you which page the binding spell is on.” She gasps, not having time to process his words as his tongue darts out to swipe up the seam of her before languidly running back down. Her vision whites, a high-pitched cry tearing from her throat as he circles her clit. The fork in his tongue adds an extra sensation that makes fireworks explode behind her eyes, her hips lifting off the bed as he lightly flicks and dips it lower, embarrassing noises spilling from her lips as she drags her fingers through his hair.

When he circles her entrance, lapping at the slick that’s been dripping down her thighs, she throws her head back and begs, pleading on deaf ears for him to plunge in, his nose pressing into the aching swell of her and it’s just the right amount of pressure-

“Fuck!” She sobs, back arching off the bed as his long fingers push inside in place of his tongue. He licks softly at her clit, pushing the hood back gently and when he sucks she nearly blacks out. His fingers are thick, so warm… he starts with two, working her open, curling in until he nudges the place inside she’s lucky to reach on a good day. It makes her entire body convulse as she clamps her thighs around him, fingers twisting in the sheets as his name tumbles from her lips over and over again like a prayer.

“Another, sweet girl?” The lilt to his voice is so innocent, but the words are pure sin and a shiver runs from the base of her skull to the tip of her spine in response, her babbling incoherent. Instead, she nods, trying to keep her eyes open, focusing on the little vent on her ceiling, anything- god he’s too good…

When he adds another digit she almost comes undone, but he shushes her with a kiss on the inside of her thigh, halting his movements. She’s allowed a few seconds to breathe, gasping for air, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. His hair is falling from its perfect swoop atop his head, dusting his eyes. He’s so handsome she almost can’t believe this is real, so focused on how hot he looks eating her out that she doesn’t see his arm coiling before he sets the pace again.

Her eyes fly shut and her head falls back, wanton cries filling the air- so loud she’s certain there will be a noise complaint in her mailbox in the morning.

His thumb strokes over her swollen nub as he pushes inside and she’s gone.

Her ankles lock around his head, pulling him deeper as she comes on his tongue and his name leaves her lips over and over, chest heaving as tears pool and spill out of the corners of her eyes. Her hips leave the mattress, her mind unaware how, hands anchored to his horns to keep him there all while his tongue massages her inner walls and draws her pleasure out with every stroke. It’s never been like this- completely blank, delirious, incoherent. It feels like someone’s holding her over a flame and she’s burning, burning, stroking her fingers over the ridges of his horns as he shivers and runs his tongue up over her sensitive clit, making her wail at the overstimulation. Her hips finally meet the mattress again as she dissolves over the messy blanket, realizing his nails had pressed stinging cuts to her buttocks as he’d dragged her over the edge.

“Satisfied?” He whispers, his face hovering over hers. She hadn’t noticed he’d shifted and her hands had fallen, her stare empty and tracking dust motes floating through the beams of moonlight. She focuses on his pretty lips, glistening from his previous ministrations, and she reaches up to pull him into a deep kiss as he stumbles and falls over her, his chuckle stroking some deeply seated, violent thing inside her. He tastes like her, the two of them mixed and she’s tingling from head to toe, so consumed by touching every part of him as her hands explore and roam. They find his neglected length and she softly strokes him with one as the other rests over the nape of his neck to continue sliding their lips together.

“Not yet…” She finally answers him after pulling away to gasp for air, voice ragged. She smiles sweetly, lashes dipped low, wanting him closer. Something about him just burrows inside, familiar and calming. She hadn’t noticed it before, too buried beneath the overpowering magic thrumming through her veins. She’s glad that he’s the one that showed up.

She nuzzles her nose into his hair, the faintest hint of brimstone and ash dusting his white locks. He stutters out a low, breathy moan as she continues to slowly stroke him and in her trance she pulls back to bare her throat for him. She quickens her pace as his teeth sink in once more, drawing filthy moans from her lips as heat coils in her belly. It’s addicting, the pain and pleasure of his sharp teeth. She offers up more of herself to him and her hips snap up into his when his mouth closes around one nipple to puncture the sensitive skin before greedily suckling on it.

“Nnng… ‘starion…” She mumbles, a strangled cry leaving her lips as she spreads the pre-cum weeping from his cock down his shaft, his mouth going rough as he groans in reply. “Need you…” She murmurs and he sucks harder before leaving bleeding crescents over her other breast.

“You taste so good…” He whispers, the soft snap of his fingers wrenching her hands from her control as they come up, above her head, wrists glowing as if he’s holding them himself. The loss of control is staggering, but as he rises, eyes glowing, blood coating his lips, she feels a fierce craving spread low in her body before she’s aching for him and his tongue and fingers won’t suffice this time. She wants the real thing.

“Please…” She whines, straining against her invisible bonds as he presses himself against her slit to coat himself in the wetness there. Slippery, obscene sounds fill the room and the way he slides and catches on her entrance before gliding over her throbbing clit coax her heart to pound harder, a shock sparking between her legs at his low lurching moan.

“Please-!” She repeats, thrashing as he continues, every touch and throb of his cock pure torture. His claws dig into her hips, her mouth spilling every curse and prayer she knows as he prods at her entrance.

“My turn,” He growls, stilling her rocking hips. Her eyes slam closed as she shudders around him, the pain a dull echo as he gradually sinks into her waiting heat. He almost doesn’t fit, eyes latched onto the place he’s desperately trying to defile, and she watches him tremble under the effort of restraint when he finally slips inside. He draws a muffled wail from her as he pushes past her entrance, an iron grip holding her in place as she twists her arms above her, panting and clenching around him as she adjusts to the stretch. She finally relaxes as his hands caress her shivering thighs, letting him gently soothe her tense muscles so he can fully sheath within her.

The feeling of fullness is like nothing else- he occupies every inch as his hips finally meet hers and her breath rushes out of her as if he’s taking up every spare bit of room inside her body. He waits, lower lip anchored beneath twin fangs, and she holds him in her blurring gaze. She can’t breathe, chest tight, the soft sounds building in her chest climbing into a litany of pleading and praise.

“So… much… please move,” She gasps as he reaches up to grab her hands and the bonds vanish, guiding them down to the mattress on either side of her head as their fingers intertwine. He’s close, so close she can see every detail on his face, can see the way his brow tenses and sweat gathers over the creasing flesh. Her thighs press against her chest as he folds her legs back, ankles dangling over his shoulders, and she screws her eyes shut as he dips impossibly deeper inside. The whine that slips out of her gritted teeth as he slowly drags out is nothing compared to the sharp, wailing cry when he pistons back into her. It dwarfs any sound she’s ever made; despite the circumstances, her cheeks burn in reply.

“Astarion!” She sobs, holding on to him for dear life. He sets a slow pace at first and she cries with each movement, repeating his name and twisting her head from side to side. He abandons his restraining grip on one of her hands to press one to her throat, stilling her writhing, lips pulled into a fangy grin.

“Eyes on me, pet.” He whispers. She gasps, clenching at the sound of his voice and the tight clutch over her neck. “I’m going to fill you… over… and over… and over…” Her eyes fly shut and she arches into him, mind fogging as he continues to thrust with rough, slow snaps of his hips. “Hells… barely been inside you for a minute… and you’re already brainless.”

“Fuck you,” She gasps when his hand disappears from her neck, a finger pad pressing to her clit to rub soft circles against it.

“That’s the idea,” He chuckles, dropping his lips to kiss her, scattering them over her jaw, neck, and chest. His hot tongue swirls over one nipple, then the other, the pressure building in her lower stomach faster than the first time. Whatever magic flows through her veins, it’s causing her vision to blur, her chest to feel light and her heart to crash against her ribs. Every drag of his cock steals her breath, every whispered word makes her impossibly wetter- afraid to look at the mess in the morning. He squeezes her breasts and her eyes flutter closed, the sensation of stroking on her bundle of nerves making her jump-

“Is that…?” She doesn’t finish, watching his tail flick in the air with a smirk before he descends on her again. “I… I don’t know how much longer-”

“Let go,” He interrupts, tongue flicking over the peaks of her breasts before he locks their gazes once more. She whines, lost in the tide of his thrusts and the way he feels inside her. He so big… so full… she can’t help the way she squeezes and pulls him in each time he pounds back inside, drawing guttural growls from his throat as obscenely wet sounds fill the room. “You’re so good, Ofelia…” He murmurs, fingernails digging into the plump flesh of her thighs as his voice pulls the coil tighter. “Creaming all over my cock.” She bites her lip, his tail rubbing and stroking and pushing her closer and closer and-

“Astarion!” She sobs, every thread unraveling and burning out. There’s an entire night sky sprawled out before her closed eyelids as he fucks her through her climax, every sound he makes sending shockwaves through her after the initial crest and fall. When she finally looks at him, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are nearly black, his cock twitching inside her.

“So… tight…” He mumbles, hands resting over her hips as his thrusts become more erratic. He’s pulsing, growing hotter, filling her more until she feels like she’s going to shatter around him, dragging against the spot inside her that leaves her breathless and panting for more and she’s afraid it’ll never be enough. He rests a hand over the bulge in her stomach, over the shape of him, and the pressure makes her gush around his twitching cock.

“Please…” She whimpers, vision hazy around the edges. She isn’t sure what she’s begging for, but he seems to understand. He presses a kiss to her lips as her pounding heart fills the silent air, hands coming up to scratch at his back and cry his name, his cock pulsing and-

Hot and powerful, he spills inside her with a strangled cry. She's almost afraid he'll never stop, filling her until she’s sure she can't hold anymore. Watching his face twist in pleasure as his hips still, gripping her waist to the point she’ll see marks in the morning, she whimpers and pulls him in for another bruising kiss. He plunges into her mouth like a starving man and she greedily matches his fervor, stroking his sides, pressing her palms against his chest, and running her fingers through his hair.

Her belly feels warm, full of his come, and his gaze darkens as he strokes the swell of flesh below her navel before flicking back up to her face. Trailing wisps of coherent thought dissolve into the recesses of her brain as his softening length begins to stiffen again, a soft growl slipping out of his mouth as his body jerks forward and he slides easily back inside. She chokes on a sound, the feeling lighting her up all over again as she struggles to accommodate him at full strength. She turns to look at the clock, registering the digital numbers turning to three am- they’d been at it for almost two hours.

“When you say you won’t leave until I’m satisfied… is that something you’ll just know? Or do I have to tell you?” He looks at her as he gently rolls his hips and her breath hitches as his tip brushes against her cervix.

“The tattoo on your neck will break,” He explains through his teeth, hands running over her body to gently squeeze her breasts and she moans softly as he rolls into her again.

“Is it still there?” She mumbles, wishing she could see into the mirror, but it’s behind him. He nods, dropping to his elbows to mouth at it, presumably. She floods his ears with delicate sighs, fingers splaying over his ribs as she traces his sides, eyes fluttering shut at the beautiful way his mouth moves-

“Ahh!” She yelps when he yanks her up off the mattress and pulls her into his arms, carried in the air. Her legs wind around him on instinct, clinging to his shoulders to not fall as he carries her into the living room. As she glances around the space, for some strange reason she feels off- almost as if a spell has been broken. Here he is, in another room of her apartment, and the strangeness she feels is entirely ridiculous. But he’s real, he’s real and standing in front of her tiny kitchen bar, eyes boring into her own, mischievous smile painted over his face. She traces his lips with her forefinger, smirk reflecting his, and he’s draping her over the counter to have her again.

She loses count of how many times he does- in the kitchen, over the couch, against the door. He shows no signs of tiring, cock hard and always pumping her full. She can’t remember a moment where she isn’t tumbling over the edge, thoughts useless, head empty as his red eyes sparkle in the dark, intent on burrowing into her chest.

There’s a brief period where she’s under the stream from the shower, unsure how she got there and still cradled in his arms. Her mind is weak like trailing threads, too distracted by the almost numbing tingles spreading through her body as she smiles at him. He’s still fully sheathed inside her- she’s almost certain he hasn't pulled out since they left the bedroom- and his impossibly strong arms rest below the swell of her ass as he presses her against the shower wall and kisses her, water mixing on their tongues.

“Is the mark still there?” She whispers, vaguely curious as the hot water flushes her body a light pink. He pulls away, eyes hazy and clouded over with pleasure, before lifting her hips and pulling her back down onto his cock.

“Still… there…” He huffs, brows drawn down in concentration. “I may not be able to keep up, soon.” She giggles, holding tight as he finishes their shower and brings her back to bed. Why he’d even bothered trying to clean them up, she isn’t sure.

On her hands and knees she takes him, and when her arms begin to tire she lies on her stomach, cheek against the mattress while his hands hold her hips up and he groans and fills her again. She shivers as his feverish hands stroke over her thighs, down her back, and to her scalp, caressing her hair softly. Her eyes flutter shut as he rocks them back and forth, the tenderness of his actions making her stutter out a long, breathless sigh.

Hazily she registers him lying her on her side, still joined, strong grip on the back of her knee as he lightly draws another orgasm out of her, fingers deftly working at her clit until she comes with a broken sob and milks him for what she considers the rest of what he’s got. As he pants into her ear the horizon turns a faint purple beyond her window and she collapses against his chest, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw.

While they catch their breath, she feels her skin chill and an almost imperceptible pressure vanish from around her neck. Her fingers come up to touch her throat, groaning at the exhaustion weighing her limbs down and the sudden ache spreading over every muscle. He strokes her stomach, peering down at her, and she can see that the band is gone through her reflection in his eyes, her arms and legs finally clear of it.

“Oh no, it’s over?” She mumbles listlessly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyelids as she starts to come back to herself. A light chuckle from beside her draws her out of the odd feelings of disappointment and longing as she gazes up at him, early morning sun passing through his hair to turn it bright and golden. He looks more like an angel than any devil she’s ever pictured.

“You’re satisfied,” He smiles, faint and soft. It makes her heart twist uncomfortably as he reaches down and finally slips out of her. A flush burns her cheeks at the slickness that drips down and pools between her legs over the sheets.

“Hmm,” She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting to the ceiling and leveling a hateful glare over the vent that she’d previously latched on to when she needed to ground herself. “Doesn’t feel like it.” He covers her vision, looking pleased with himself, and she feels a pang of sadness knowing he’ll have to leave.

“My contract’s fulfilled, Ofelia.” She nods, patting his arm, and when he moves from behind her to stand in her bedroom, gloriously naked and back to her, she admires him like he’s a distant statue up high on a pedestal. Out of reach.

“Umm… do I say ‘It’s been fun!’ or ‘Thank you!’?” She asks, wincing as he turns to look at her over his shoulder. His amused smile makes her feel less awkward, and she jolts in surprise when he stoops down to press a kiss to her lips.

“It’s been fun, thank you,” He grins, all sharp teeth and cocky glint in his eyes. She stares, then smiles softly as he rises to his full height, and those elusive wings that had vanished before stretch out behind him to cover the length of her room. The next time she blinks, he’s gone, and she looks around the room in alarm before stilling.

It’s silent as death.

She lies back, staring back up at that vent, every part of her arching and sore, far too stiff to think about moving let alone changing her sheets. She closes her eyes, fierce loneliness prodding at her chest.

***

“Earth plane’s portal is ringing again,” The droning voice of Raphael calls out over the tops of the rows of desks, his tone growing more tired by the hour. No one answers, scrolls and papers flying about as the demons sitting behind their quills carry on cataloging and documenting contracts and summons.

“Did you not hear me?” Raphael sounds more on edge and Astarion flicks his tail in amusement, glancing across the desk at his chattiest coworker.

“Think Haarlep’s still booked?” Karlach grins, jotting something on her scroll before she flicks it behind her right shoulder and it hits a lowly imp in the head.

“Must be. Wonder if he’ll call me again,” Astarion sighs, idly flicking the quill pen in his hand around his fingers. He remembers his outing and smirks. He wouldn’t mind if it were her again. If only he could be so lucky.

“Astarion!”

“There it is- good luck, soldier,” Karlach whispers before grabbing her beverage to dart for the breakroom.

“Yes, sir?” Astarion sagely dips his head in a formal bow as he watches Raphael massage his temples.

“Please cover for Haarlep again,”

“Of course, sir.” Filling in for an incubus isn’t the job he’d thought he’d be doing while slaving away for an archdevil, but its excellent overtime and exceptional pay convince him to fill out the request sheet every once in a while. When he steps through the portal he’s met with familiar darkened windows and the scent of vanilla, votives burning on every shelf and surface.

“Hope you weren’t busy?” He turns to see her standing in the middle of her little summoning circle, far too overdressed for his tastes, and smile bright and shining in the dim room.

“Ofelia,” He smirks, catching the spellbook when she tosses it at him.

“It’s already bookmarked, at least…” She walks closer, brown eyes flashing playfully as her long dark hair falls over her shoulder. “That’s if I read the fine print correctly.” He glances at the page, hellish heart flaring with warmth at the infernal word for binding. He grins.

“Cheeky pup,”

134 notes · View notes

porcelainseashore · 7 months ago

Text

Into the Ether (6)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Hazing, torture and mild gore ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 6: Every Rose Has Its Thorn

“Ada,” it came out as a caution, both warning her to back off and reminding you to tread carefully.

That didn’t faze her; she maintained her usual sociable disposition, though something about it seemed ingenuine, as if she were the lead actress in a stage play. “Is that how you greet your sire?” she teased.

Leon had briefly told you about her; how much she enjoyed political intrigue and mind games, how cruel she could be and the way she traded secrets and declarations of love like currency. You sensed there was more than he was letting on, especially when you’d asked him those famous words, “Did you love her?”

He stiffened, his hollowed-out stare burning a hole in the wall before him, and the only sound you could hear was the clock ticking in the background. “I thought I did,” he finally replied.

And that was the end of the conversation.

“We were just in the middle of something important,” Leon contended. The pregnant pause that ensued hinted that her intrusion was unwelcome.

Undeterred, she slinked down onto the velvety couch beside you, draping her arm across its back near your shoulders. “What’s more important than introducing her to our clan members?” She toyed absentmindedly with your hair between her fingers, grooming you like a house cat, frowning whenever she saw a split end.

“She’s not—”

“Ready?” Ada suggested coyly. “You really need to have more faith in your progeny.”

“My dear.” She framed your face tenderly with her palms, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen down your cheek. “You did so well in front of the Prince.”

Taking one of her hands away, she rummaged through her satin evening clutch, decorated with pearls. “I heard you’re a fan of these…”

Your eyes perked up at unmistakable French Blue paper packaging, with its distinctive winged Gallic helmet logo on the front. How did she know? You might have risked being labeled as a snob, but if there was a brand of cigarettes that made you weak in the knees, this would be it.

“Gauloises, unfiltered.” She smiled knowingly, passing you the packet you often associated with the likes of Camus and Sartre, intellectuals you admired. “Flown in all the way from Paris.”

Another hand grabbed your shoulder. “Don’t,” Leon urged, reminding you of the vow you had taken earlier to listen only to him.

A nagging voice of reason in your head concurred with him, but the hurt you felt from learning the true nature of your Embrace was louder, drowning it out with its howls. You weren’t about to be the better person and let things lie, you were a creature of passion after all.

Shoving his hand off you, you accepted Ada’s gift graciously, thanking her as you peeled the top of the packet open. Sniffling softly, you dried away the rest of your tears with the back of your hand before offering her a cigarette from the pack. “She’s got manners,” Ada remarked appreciatively.

“Only to you it seems,” Leon grumbled as he folded his arms like a petulant child.

Fishing one out with her slender fingers, she placed it between her lips and you did the same after. It was only when she struck the match to light your cigarette that you involuntarily shrank away from the flame in slight terror, like some sort of survival instinct had kicked in. It reminded you of the time Leon flinched in the cafe when he opened his lighter.

“Rötschreck,” she commented. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

The aromatic taste of strong, dark tobacco hit you and you almost cried for a second time that night. You had only just begun to adjust to your new diet of blood that you thought you’d never be able to savor anything else remotely human again. As you shared a silent smoke with the woman who’d been demonized by your sire, she grazed your hand with her fingertips, speaking up, “Come, it’s time to meet the rest of your family.”

At this, Leon got to his feet, standing between you and Ada. “No,” he protested. “I’m her sire, I will take her.”

Ada looked between you and Leon with an amused expression on her face, until focusing her attention entirely onto you. “Well?”

Rejecting his advances, you glared at him with scorn, while circling around to join Ada by her side. Perhaps it was immature and you would live to regret it, but at that moment, you wanted nothing more than to stick it to him after what he had done to you. A look of incredulity and betrayal was plastered across his face, while on Ada’s it was one of smug triumph.

A sire who can’t control his childe? Ada’s voice gloated in his head as she strutted off with you.

He pushed it back with a hostile snarl, following close behind so as not to lose sight of the two of you.

The clan meeting that Ada had raved about was designated in the bioreactors room within the West Area. Odd choice for social networking event. Then again, there weren’t many options in this monolith of steel and concrete.

“Welcome to the Rose Garden,” she declared proudly, as two men in uniformed suits and Venetian masks swung open the doors, bowing and inviting you inside.

“Metaphorically, not literally, of course — especially in this mind numbing place,” she whispered the last part of the sentence to you in jest, as a slight towards Wesker. “We usually host them in more… inspired locations, but this was the best we could manage on such short notice.”

The room was decorated with romantic rose tendrils, and an ethereal canopy of soft white fabric draped from the center of the ceiling, cascading down the walls. Cocktail tables were scattered along the sides, lined with antique lace cloth that would have cost a fortune to procure.

The minute you set foot in the venue, everyone turned towards you and the room fell into a hushed silence. They stood still like mannequins, pausing halfway between chatting and drinking. It was different to the maliciousness you had experienced with the cliquish vampires before by the rampway. Here, they observed you instead with a look of compulsion, curiously appraising your worth like a prized lamb brought to slaughter.

“Go on.” Ada nudged you forward gently. “Say hello to your elders.”

Glancing over at Leon, you noticed the agitation in his eyes. He remained mute, aware of the impending debacle yet powerless to stop it. You didn’t quite know what to expect as you edged forward hesitantly, while the rest of the crowd parted slightly like the Red Sea, eyeing you as if you were being auctioned off to the highest bidder.

The first of them started to sniff you impulsively and when you shied away, the others held you in place, pushing you along. The unsolicited violations of your person continued, growing with intensity as they prodded at your body, pinched your skin, and licked your face. You would have wrestled your way out of their grasp, if not for those wearing long brass fingernails, their tips sharpened like knives, threatening to slice you if you dared to resist. Instead, you stifled a whimper, masking your fear and revulsion to maintain a facade of confidence and composure.

As your superiors, they were allowed to do anything they wanted to you, and you couldn’t complain. You were insignificant; a drop in the ocean. Just another fledgling who had barely survived a few nights in the world of darkness, invisible in the grand scheme of things until you proved yourself.

From afar, Leon watched the degrading display as the other Kindred ripped at pieces of your clothing, claiming the fabric for themselves. They waved them in the air, tucking them into their purses like souvenirs they’d won at a fairground. Through gritted teeth, he admonished the woman beside him, “Did you really need to bring her here to be humiliated?”

She let out a huff of criticism. “Your short-sightedness in such matters is disappointing. I merely wanted to see how she would react, and if she was good enough, as you claim.”

“For what?” he seethed. “To be used in one of your schemes?”

Coughing out a derisive laugh, she traced his jawline with her index finger. “Now, now, I suggest you handle yourself as well as your beloved fledgling is doing.”

“I’ve had enough of this sick show.” Twisting his head away from her caress, he stormed off, heading in your direction as the attention began to draw towards him instead.

Without a word, he removed his blazer, placing it over your shoulders to protect your modesty. A couple of ridiculing giggles and endearing ‘awws’ erupted from the audience.

At that point, you’d zoned out as a defense mechanism to cope with the embarrassment. After all, it was kind of like acting sometimes, wasn’t it? Their voices sounded distant to you until you slowly came back into your present body. As you peered up at the man who had come to your aid, his unwavering demeanor grounded you, filling you with a sense of gratitude. Why did he have to lie to you about your Embrace? He had promised to earn back your trust, but all he managed was to deliver a slap to the face. And now, here he was, steadfast like a rock by your side. You couldn’t understand him.

He was about to drag you away when a man with shaggy, medium-length hair, stepped forward. Dressed in a burnt caramel leather jacket and a matching embroidered waistcoat, he seemed to have quite a taste for fashion and being in the limelight.

“Ugh, not this guy again,” Leon muttered under his breath.

“Hey, Sancho, come on. Let the señorita stay, the party isn’t over yet!” The man beckoned the both of you over enthusiastically to join his social circle at one of the drink tables.

“Only for a moment, Luis,” Leon negotiated. “We’ve got things to attend to — Prince’s orders.”

Luis raised his arms in mock surrender, but continued to implore you with more exaggerated hand waves.

“Avoid agreeing to anything with him at all costs,” Leon warned, keeping his voice low as he spoke in your ear. “He’ll indebt you for the rest of your unlife.”

You nodded compliantly, having had your fair share of deals for tonight.

The crowd went back to whatever they were doing as chatter and excitement filled the room again. When you approached, Luis made a grand gesture of taking your hand in his, kissing it as he bowed before you. “What a fine Princess!” he swooned.

“No wonder this Yanqui here wants to keep you all to himself, eh?” Giving Leon a cheeky wink, he settled into conversation by introducing you to the other Kindred around him.

It was then where you understood how it was like to be privy to all the gossip surrounding you. Luis invited you to the Balls and Carnivale the Toreador were organizing this year, which you held off on giving a definite answer to for now. Some popular topics that came up included: a Kindred artist’s recent foray into photographing bodies in various forms of bloated decay, with rumors that she kept her subjects in her basement under suitable conditions; and another Kindred who had made substantial progress in molding himself to resemble a stained-glass panel that had captivated him. It was only a matter of time before Leon was subjected to similar scrutiny.

“Did you know your sire doesn’t keep any ghouls or retainers?” one of Luis’ friends mentioned. “I have no idea how on earth he gets things done!”

“Who watches over him when he sleeps?” another gasped audaciously. “I could never!”

You spotted Leon pursing his lips in guarded response, shifting his weight from one foot to the other with his hands behind his back. They were insulting him for not having human servants and bodyguards, some imbued with more power than others, but all blood bound to ensure their loyalty. He had informed you about blood bonds in passing, and from what little you knew, it wasn’t pleasant. For once, you admired him for standing up for what he believed in and not taking advantage of others in this regard — even though he had ironically done so with you, a fact that still pained you.

“Perhaps he’s capable enough on his own,” you countered.

All eyes were on you. Luis cocked his head, revealing an intrigued smile on his lips.

“I find it impressive,” you added, feeling the ghostly trail of Leon’s pinkie finger against your own in appreciation.

“How about you, señorita? Will you follow in your sire’s footsteps, or will you ghoul?”

Before the discussion could go on further, you heard the Sheriff's distinct voice at the entrance, summoning you and Leon to accompany her for a briefing. Saved by the bell, you sighed in relief as you made your way out of the garden, which was teeming with hidden thorns.

━━━━━━━━━━━

As you wandered back towards the server room in the East Area, Leon had kindly given you a heads up about the Kindred who often holed herself up there. Belonging to the Nosferatu clan meant that she would bear certain deformities. Even so, when she swiveled around in her armchair, you couldn’t contain the tiny gasp that escaped your lips.

Most of the woman’s head was covered in bald patches, leaving only a few straggly strands which fell in a matted mess. Her face was filled with ulcerating sores which leaked pus down her otherwise pristine, crisp white shirt. When she grinned, you see her two front teeth, elongated and jagged compared to the rest. Peering at you through her spectacles, her spindly fingers, shaped like claws, drummed rhythmically on the computer desk.

Hm, so the tech ban didn’t actually apply to the Prince’s entourage, you thought.

“Afraid?” Jill snickered, glancing at you briefly before resting her back against one of the many blinking tower servers in the room.

The other woman cackled, seemingly enjoying an established rapport with Jill. “Name’s Hunnigan, lick.” You learnt that was a rather derogatory slang for Kindred. Guess she didn’t like your reaction to her looks much.

“Typical Toreador,” she tutted. “Vanity won’t get you anywhere.”

Leon stepped in before the conversation could take a turn for the worse. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Shall we get down to business?”

“Copy that,” Hunnigan relented, though not without flashing you a cursory glance. With a tap of a button, a dozen different mugshots of people you didn’t recognize, along with their identification particulars were projected onto the screens in front of her.

“The assailants,” she presented. “All fake IDs unsurprisingly, but I’ve still included the intel along with what Jill extracted from them into your briefing files.”

At this, Jill snorted, her mood souring as she bellowed, “Got fuck all from these guys. Kept repeating the same tired shit over and over again.”

“Like what?” Leon pressed.

“See for yourself.” Jill signaled towards the screens as Hunnigan brought up a video of what looked like an interrogation taking place.

There were angry snarls and barking followed by tortured screams from the man’s mouth. You saw Jill's shadow captured on the side of the reel, along with her trusty companion, the Doberman, blood and froth dribbling from its mouth. The man was chained to the ground and sobbing violently. Pockets of flesh on his chest had been mauled by the animal.

“Answer me! Who the fuck sent you?”

“Nobody,” the man blubbered mindlessly. “Nobody said they were nobody…”

Hunnigan raised an eyebrow at the screen, muttering, “He’s gone mad.”

You heard a jarring crunching sound and wished you hadn’t looked at the recording again. Jill’s boot was planted on the man’s wrist, which had been twisted and broken in a weird angle. You winced and felt Leon interlace his fingers through yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand soothingly. Somehow, you couldn’t bear to pull away, finding solace in his touch. It was disconcerting how much you wanted to feel more of him — the man who had a hand in making your unlife a living hell. Maybe there’s a truth to people bonding after experiencing trauma.

Another harrowing scream and a series of rapid fire questions followed.

“What were your orders?” Jill snapped.

The man’s breathing was ragged, interspersed with whimpers of pain. “Em-embrace them a-all…” he repeated continuously like a fervent prayer.

She interrupted him sharply, her words slicing through the air like a blade. “Where were you before this?”

He looked up in confusion, his eyes glazed and blank, as if he were stumped and at a loss for words. “I-I don’t… remember.”

There was a heavy sigh as her final question resounded across the four walls of the room. “Identify yourself.”

“I don’t—”

With a flick of her hand, the Doberman pounced forward, lacerating the man’s throat with its teeth, tearing it out as he gurgled on his own blood and the light gradually faded from his eyes. The recording stopped.

A wave of nausea enveloped you as you tried not to hurl whatever you had drunk that night. Leon hand tightened in yours as he gazed at you sympathetically before pulling away to address the two women. “Seems to me like they were tampered with. Someone wiped their memories and Dominated them into servitude.”

“Maybe even a bit of Dementation,” Hunnigan added insightfully, folding her hands into a contemplative, triangular pose under her chin.

Dementation, the power to shatter minds and inflict them with madness. A very smart observation from the Nosferatu, Leon reflected. But that could mean a Malkavian was involved, or someone who’d picked up the skill. “How many of the captives are left?”

“Three,” Jill replied plainly.

From a dozen to three. “Seriously?” he chastised. “Was it necessary to off all of them?”

Raising a finger to silence him, she insisted, “Three is more than enough.”

“As long as you keep it that way,” he argued, placing his arms akimbo and shaking his head in annoyance. “We need to recover their memories somehow.”

“Well, you’re in luck, Leon,” Hunnigan simpered. “We have a memory expert right under our noses. One of the scientists working here for Wesker.”

Resting her hands behind her head, she leaned back lazily, exchanging wry glances with Jill. “Thing is, she’s a little hard to pin down. You might have to go through her Regent, though that’s another slippery one.”

“A Tremere?” he blurted out caustically. That just made his job ten times harder.

“What’s wrong with the Tremere?” you posed innocently.

“Everything,” came the unison reply, as three pairs of eyes darted in your direction.

“Oh, you have a lot to learn, lick,” Hunnigan leered. You guessed that nickname wasn’t going away anytime soon, though you were beginning to understand when to pick your battles and when not. “But that’s your sire’s job.”

“Fuckin’ usurpers, witches in disguise,” Jill spat, her insults laced with venom. “Don’t trust ’em.”

“At least they make themselves somewhat useful,” Hunnigan countered, pushing her glasses up along the bridge of her nose.

“Anyway, I digress,” she said, rapping her fingers on the desk again out of habit. “Another tip for you, because I’m nice: the Bakers.”

“God, no,” he groaned, rubbing the temples at the sides of his head. He’d never met them personally either, but had heard the literal horror stories.

“They’re your port of call for Dementation and the Cobweb, also known as the Malkavian psychic network,” she instructed, clicking away furiously at her computer to add in further details to the files she intended to handover to him.

“More like, madness network,” Jill interjected, sharing a cynical laugh with Hunnigan before giving her a high five. You didn’t see the humor in it at all, but they appeared to gel with their inside jokes like long-time pals.

“Just in case, I’ll send out some feelers and keep my ear to the ground.” An evident buzzing sound followed as a small swarm of flies emerged from underneath Hunnigan’s blouse into the space.

You looked on in shock, your mouth hanging open.

“I must admit, I’m a bit of a show off.” She wiggled her eyebrows at you brazenly before turning towards Leon. “And you know how to reach me.”

“How could I ever forget your rats, Hunnigan?” He forced out a tight-lipped smile.

“So, both of you can control animals?” you proposed, still coming to terms with what you had just seen displayed in front of you.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Jill grunted, pushing herself away from the tower as she paced around the room in agitation, seemingly growing impatient with your ignorance.

Hunnigan, however, appreciated your interest in the topic and proceeded to explain, “Slight difference there — mine are mostly for communication and info gathering. Jill likes her dogs; they’re better for attacking.”

Gangrels like Jill tended to be closer to the Beast than most Kindred were, and also considered themselves as survivalists and fighters. That, coupled with her job as the Sheriff, explained why her approach to Animalism was on the more aggressive side, as compared to Hunnigan’s.

“Right, got it,” you nodded tersely, grateful for the clarification but unsure of what to make of her. “Thanks.”

She nodded back before handing over a thumb drive to Leon. “Guard this with your life.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he promised, swiping the device and tucking it into one of his pockets as he gave her a mock salute.

What a goofball. Clamping a hand over your mouth, you tried to suppress a snicker as he winked at you. Your heart skipped a beat, figuratively speaking, and you lowered your gaze. Needless to say, another bout of conflicting feelings bubbled to the surface. How could someone you detested moments ago also arouse such warmth and affection within you? Why did you have to meet him in this unfortunate way? If the world he lived in didn’t exist and he was just a normal patron, maybe the two of you could’ve stood a chance. But then again, nothing was normal these days. You kicked yourself for even considering it. The man had actually turned out to be a monster after all, though at the same time, he wasn’t.

Jill watched the entire exchange, unimpressed. “Jeez, get a room already. The next thing you know you’re both biting each other and turning this place into the bloody Nile.”

“Not on my watch,” Hunnigan threatened, the flies around her buzzing indignantly.

Leon appeared to take their complaints in his stride, flipping his bangs to the side and breaking out into a charming, boyish smile. “Anything else you ladies need from us or shall we take our leave?”

“Yeah, you still think the Sabbat did it?” Jill inquired before jabbing her thumb in your direction. “Trying to turn her into a shovelhead?”

“What’s a—”

Leon glared at Jill as he interrupted you. “It’s one of the ways the Sabbat, a sect of vampire supremacists, prefer to Embrace their kind. After a Mass Embrace, they’d bash you on the head with a shovel and throw you into a pit to bury you alive.”

“See who manages to crawl out,” she added, running her tongue over the sharp edges of her teeth with a sadistic glint in her eye. “Survival of the fittest.”

“And to answer your question, Jill,” he continued, “the Sabbat’s probably involved one way or another, but something tells me there are more players in this.”

“Good guess, pretty boy,” she purred. “I’ll be expecting regular updates on this case.”

“Noted,” he replied bluntly, turning on his heel and briskly guiding you out of the room.

━━━━━━━━━━━

On your trip back to his apartment, Leon suddenly breached the uncomfortable silence that hung heavily between you. “Stay with me for now, so I can watch over you.”

You eyed him skeptically. Did he really think he could pull this trick on you? “Yeah, fat chance. I’m fine where I am.”

“You know when Luis talked about ghouling? Well, you won’t have to do that, as long as I’m there,” he tried to persuade you.

“I could be just as capable,” you contended, though the fear of entering uncharted territory played on the back of your mind.

“Could be,” he stressed, as you pinched your lips together into a disgruntled frown.

“There are many who know how much you mean to me.” His honeyed voice filled your ears and again, your stomach fluttered at his confession.

You imagined his lips searing kisses onto your skin and hated yourself for it. He broke you and made you who you were. Fucking bastard. You wanted to lash out and hit him again and again, until you didn’t have to see his handsome face under a layer of blood and bruises, but you couldn’t. When push came to shove, you were weak.

“They’ll use it against us,” he claimed. “Let’s not even talk about the Sabbat, who won’t give a shit about killing you on sight.”

Leon 1, you 0. The bell had sounded and he was the winner for this round. Your mouth twisted in displeasure at the unfair results. There was a long pause until, eventually, you spoke up, “I’ll stay, but the cafe is my turf. You’re not going to order me about there.”

He gave you a sidelong smile. “I guess we can come to an agreement.” Noticing your restlessness, he quirked an eyebrow and appended his statement with, “Anything else?”

“There is,” you began tentatively, the urge to rile him up was getting the better of you. “But first, a smoke?” With lightning speed, your packet of Gauloises was already pressed flat against his chest. Good ol’ Celerity — you could get used to this.

He glanced at the offensive Cornflower blue packet and scrunched his face in resentment. Placing his hand over your ‘offering’, he pushed it down coolly and snorted, “Cute, but I’ve got my own,” while tapping at the pack in his trouser pocket.

“Suit yourself.” You shrugged, lighting your cigarette with the box of matches Ada had left you. The flinching wasn’t as bad this time, like she’d said.

Exhaling thick plumes of smoke like a femme fatale in an old noir film, you declared, “I want separate beds, non-negotiable.”

A sardonic smirk crept onto his lips. “I’ll see what I can do.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #vampire au #vampire the masquerade #vtm #crossover #fic: into the ether #porcelainscribbles

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ramp-it-up · 1 year ago

Text

Homework

Shield High School FACULTY AU

Pairing: Teacher! Bucky x Teacher! Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI, Language, S MUT w/some plot, mutual pining, angst, fluff, two idiots in love, wall s ex, dirty talk, teasing, praise kink, a teeny tiny bit of degredation, oral s ex (f/m recieving), finger f ucking, face f ucking, sloppy head, rough s ex, pleasurable pain, squirting, raw s ex (protect ya self).

A/N: This is a teacher AU. All characters in this are ADULTS, as you should be if you’re reading my fic. Thank you. 😊 This comes right after Quarter Finals and way before Deck the Hallways. Thanks to @blackpinup22 for asking for this after 18 months. I'm glad you got me when you know I ain’t sh#t, lmao. Reblogs and interaction is currency for writers on this app. If you like it, reblog.

Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Bucky woke up the next morning and stared at you as the sun came up. You looked so angelic. He couldn’t believe his luck, and fought his instinct to grab you again. Last night had been everything he’d dreamt of and more. His heart flipped as he studied your face. He had to do this right; he couldn't scare you off.

You’d said that you wanted him ruined for any other woman. Bucky didn’t know how to tell you that he had been before he laid a finger on you. He was so far gone that he couldn’t sleep and he didn’t want to leave, so he got up, quietly cleaned himself up and slipped on his clothes from the previous night. Then, he snuck out of the door.

Bucky came back 45 minutes later, carefully replacing the keys that were on the table next to your door.

He carried the bags into the kitchen and opened your refrigerator.

Food. It was one way to express how he felt about you.

——

You woke up to the smell of food coming from your kitchen. You peeked your head out of your bedroom and saw Bucky puttering around.

You closed the door before he saw you and leaned against it, heart skip-pattering and a giant grin on your face. Your mind couldn’t believe the night actually happened, but your body told you it did.

You ran into the bathroom and turned on the shower while you brushed your teeth quickly. You took a famous seven-minute shower and threw your hair up in a bun, trying not to take the situation too seriously. You threw on an old t-shirt and some shorts, trying desperately to not look like you were trying too hard.

You looked ruefully in the mirror before turning to join Bucky. You thought that you looked a mess, but it was the best you could do.

——

“Why are you always trying to feed me, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky turned around from his preparations and his heart skipped a beat. He felt his face split into a grin when he saw you. You looked beautiful and sexy as hell, fresh faced and relaxed. You were so damn hot.

“Morning, Doll.”

The way you smiled and walked up to him and put your arms around him made his anxiety disappear. He wrapped you up in an embrace and kissed you on your forehead.

“Gotta keep your strength up.”

“For what?”

You smirked up at him.

“At school, you are on all day when you’re teaching. You need sustenance.”

You stared at Bucky’s lips. Bucky stared back at you.

“And on a Saturday morning?”

Bucky raised his eyebrow up. He leaned down to your ear, his breath on your neck making you shiver.

“You need strength for weekend activities.”

You shuddered in his arms at his voice.

“Activities, huh?”

Your sultry tone was doing things to him.

“Yes. Activities…”

Bucky kissed your neck and then pecked you on your lips as he took you by the shoulders and moved you away from him, trying to keep focus.

“It does take almost all day to wash my hair.”

Bucky looked at your messy bun.

“You make beauty effortless, Doll.”

You blushed and ducked your head as you turned around and looked at the spread.

“Let’s eat.”

Bucky pulled out your seat and placed a napkin in your lap. You smiled at him as he sat across from you.

“What did I do to deserve this kind of service?”

You reached for the maple syrup which you realized you didn’t have in your pantry.

“Did you go grocery shopping?”

“I did.”

Bucky stared at you as he took a bite of food. Those lips distracted you and you shifted in your seat, the delicious ache in your core giving you an inkling of why.

“I did it because I had a great time last night. And food is my love language.”

Your eyes got wide. Did he just say 'love?'

Bucky started choking.

“I mean…Not like that. I mean.. Not not like that… shit….”

He felt like such fool as you watched him take a drink of juice.

“You good?”

“No. I’m a fucking idiot.”

You smiled at him, feeling disappointed that he didn’t want to express those types of feelings. The types of feelings that had butterflies trapped below your rib cage since the first time you saw him.

“It’s okay Bucky. We had a great night. We don’t have to ruin the vibe with all that ‘what are we?’ nonsense.”

Bucky paused. Wait. Did you not want to define the relationship? Fuck. He shouldn’t be such a simp.

“Right. Yeah, absolutely. Don’t want to ruin the mellow.”

You two ate, making small talk about the Saturday errands, laundry, cleaning and planning for the next week that needed to be done and then you both moved to put the dishes in the washer and clean the kitchen.

When you were done, you stood staring at each other.

Bucky wanted to say the things he thought he shouldn’t say, but he didn’t want to ruin this. He was afraid he already had. All he wanted was to take you into his arms and tell you that he wanted you, that he felt very deeply for you already. But it was too soon.

Wasn’t it?

“Well, Doll. See you Monday morning.”

“See you Monday, James.”

You wanted to throw yourself into his arms and burrow you head into his chest, pull him back to your bedroom and cuddle all day, but you decided not to. Maybe this was a one time hookup, or maybe there would be more to come. You didn’t want to be that girl who just wanted a relationship.

So you decided to be a grown up about it.

Bucky walked out, looking back at you before you closed the door. Your heart sank that he was leaving, but you just waved as he climbed into his car.

You spied Bucky’s tie peeking out from under your couch as you walked back to your bedroom, picked it up and put it around your neck, smiling as you remembered the night before. You debated giving it back to him. If you never had another night, you’d have this.

You were thinking about how to act around him at work when you heard a knock at the door.

Your heart flipped when you saw it was Bucky.

“I forgot…”

Bucky stared at you in his tie and licked his lips when you opened the door.

“You forgot your tie.”

“No. I forgot my… I forgot my you.”

Bucky looked at you and sighed. Your butterflies awoke.

“I forgot my you.”

Bucky took the ends of the tie and pulled you toward him. The action was unneeded because you felt this magnetic pull which drew your lips together like magnets.

He mumbled something when he separated from you, and you thought you heard what he said, but you couldn’t believe it. His mouth brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered it, urgently begging.

“Please be my girl, Yourname. I want you, I like you. So so so much.”

His lips brushed your neck, making you shiver as the butterflies rioted in your stomach. He was slurring as if drunk on your scent and proximity.

“Wan’ you to be mine. Please. Don’t wan’ anyone else. I’m ruined. Just like you said.”

The velvet tenor of his voice made you tremble, and all of your senses were alive in all areas of your body.

“J-James, what? What are you saying?”

You were breathless as your hands traced the muscles in his back, and followed his lats around to the front of his shirt, toying with the buttons, your fingers itching to take it off again as he walked you backwards into your apartment.

After kicking your door closed, Bucky stopped long enough to pull back and look in your eyes as your hands trailed up to his shoulders.

“I want you to be my girl, Yourname.”

You looked down and then up again, biting your lip to keep from grinning like a fool. Then you nodded.

“Okay. I’ll be your girl, James.”

“Fuck yeah!”

Bucky let out a whoop and then walked you back into the nearest wall, hands everywhere.

“Want you. Need you.”

The feeling of intoxication was contagious, and your head was spinning at Bucky’s ardor.

“We went all night, James. I’m already sore…”

Your protest was countered by the fact that you were unbuttoning Bucky’s shirt and pushing it off of his shoulders.

Bucky dropped to his knees, looking up at you with those blue, blue eyes.

“Did I do that? I’m so sorry, Doll, Let me kiss and make it better.”

You giggled and rolled your eyes as he pulled your shorts and panties just down enough with his hand so that his tongue could reach your cunt.

Bucky’s lips kissed yours and his tongue split them in two, collecting your juices on his tongue. It was so fucking sexy to see him so desperate for you that he didn’t even take off you panties. You weren’t laughing anymore as he dove face first into your moist cunt, sukling your clit and inserting two fingers over your panties to finger fuck you as he tried to shatter your soul.

“Fuck you’re so perfect!”

Bucky moaned it into your cunt as you scream-whined.

“Oh my god, yes! Ohhhhhhh. Mmmmmmh. YesyesyesYESSSS!”

Your legs started shaking and your hands fisted in his hair, pulling the more he moaned when you did it. He stared you straight in the eye as you came and tried to hold on to the wall above your head for purchase.

“One more time…”

Bucky pulled your panties all the way off as he drove his entire mouth into your cunt, tongue fucking and sucking your clit impossibly at the same time. You were on tiptoes and instantly on edge again.

“Oh my god I’m gonna cum again.”

You were speaking in a low sultry whine as you held his head and stared at him again. It was so intimate and so fucking hot when you came into his mouth.

“James! Fuck.”

You laughed as he stood up, sliding his body against yours along the way. You fisted his cock through his pants.

“What do you need, Doll?”

“Need my man to fuck me up, James.”

“Damn, Doll.”

Bucky picked you up and walked over to your couch, sitting down with you on his lap, bottomless, squirming on his lap in an effort to get what you wanted where you wanted. Your soreness was forgotten. Your only mission was to get his pants off.

You started gyrating in Bucky’s lap, trying to get some friction on your clit while he gently swatted your cunt while his hands reached under your shirt to squeeze your braless tits.

“This sweet, sweet pussy. Don’t want to hurt it anymore.”

He gave you a quick, filthy peck on your lips.

“Pleaseeee. James. Please hurt me.”

His teasing was driving you crazy and he was loving it. You could feel his bulge rubbing against your ass.

“You can’t mean that, Doll.”

Bucky’s eyes mesmerized you as one of his huge hands lifted your t-shirt and he leaned down to suck and pull your nipple into his mouth. You panted and moaned as you propped your leg up outside of his on the couch, opening your legs even wider as an invitation.

Bucky licked his fingers and reached around and under your leg to rub your pussy as he sucked your nipple again.

“Ah that feels goood, James…unnnnnh yessss.”

You both looked down to see you start making a wet mess all over his hand, then used two fingers to stroke circles on you. He alternated watching your face and your pussy.

“So fucking beautiful, Doll.”

You came on his hand again and then he let you slip down to the floor while he stood up to take off his pants. When he sat back down, you immediately grabbed his bobbing dick, proclaiming “Mine!”, and wasted no time deep throating and gagging on him.

“Holy shit, that’s right Doll, it’s yours. But…take it easy on me… fuck!”

But it was Bucky who was fucking into your throat preventing your breathing at the moment. He let you gag and drool all over him for a few minutes before he pulled you off, kissing you filthily and fully as he squeezed your tits again.

“So fucking hot. Get up here.”

He went under your shirt to suck your nipple as you positioned your legs on either side of his widespread thighs. You scrambled to take off your tee while Bucky licked his fingers to stretch you out again. You wiggled your ass as he positioned his cockhead at your entrance and the magic began.

Bucky intoned a deep, “Ahhhhhhh,” as you slid down the length of him, and you immediately started whining. He hit that spot deep inside you and your apartment was filled with the pornographic sounds of your flesh slapping together.

You started riding him harder as you two watched him filling you up just right.

“Why are you fucking your dick so good, Doll? Such a good fucking girl, My good girl. My best girl.”

Bucky’s words drove you over the edge and your eyes rolled back into your head as Bucky held your wildly gyrating hips steady.

“Need more…”

Bucky turned you around reverse cowgirl, but took control of your hips and leaned you back, using you like a fuck toy, slamming you down on his cock. He was going as deep as you ever felt him while whispering filthy things in your ear.

“You thought you were sore before. That’s nothin’, Doll. Gonna make sure you can’t walk straight all next week. When I see you coming down the hall I better see the evidence of how I molded you to my dick this weekend.”

“Bucky, FUCKKKKK! I’m gonna cum. All over!”

Bucky scooted to the edge of the couch as you released, the squelch of your fluids outright obscene.

You collapsed on him, only slowly realizing that Bucky was still hard inside you.

“Oh… nooooo….”

Bucky kissed your temple as he moved you two down to the floor.

“Oh, yes, Doll.”

You were on your hands and knees as he put his hand on the back of your neck and started fucking into you. Bucky helped you realize that you were not done because when he stopped moving, you found yourself throwing it back on him.

“Fuck yes, fuck your dick, Doll. Sssssshit.”

He watched your ass work and then grabbed your hips, his stroke becoming erratic. Knowing that his end was near brought you another and you shattered just before he did. Bucky’s thick streams of cum filled you up and then leaked out of you almost instantly with their velocity and copiousness.

You were on the rug in your living room, trapped by the bearable weight of Bucky’s body. You didn’t think you were able to move anyway. A sudden rush of cool air was replaced by a feeling of weightlessness as Bucky packed you up, put you on the toilet and bade you to pee.

You did, unashamed as you sleepily watched Bucky run a hot bath. He looked back at you and blushed when he caught you admiring him.

“Can I stay a while, Doll?”

How did the man have the nerve to be bashful after what you two just did? You wanted to say that he could stay forever, but you just nodded, and softly said, “Yeah.”

#shield hs faculty au #shield hs #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x black female reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes #teacher au #avengers au #marvel au #teacher! bucky barnes x teacher! reader #teacher! bucky barnes

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gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan · 2 months ago

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Candle Store

Author’s note: More of Ramiel and Jophiel in Husbandry AU.

Summary: Ramiel and Jophiel wander into a Candle store

Warnings: None? Let me know if I need to add anything!

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis

Ramiel had noticed that they were running low on candles for the private shrine that the Primaris Marines have set up in their quarters. While he could go to the quarter master and request some candles, in exchange for work.

Another option could be to make the candles, but Jophiel had noticed what he was looking over and had said that one of the times that he had been going through Gannet Point, he had spotted a shop dedicated to selling a wide variety of candles.

Ramiel had pointed out to Jophiel that they would need to get local currency in order to buy candles from a baseline shop. Jophiel had grinned at him saying that some people had commissioned him for his embroidery and he'd gotten those commissions done.

He had gotten local currency, among other things, for the needle point work that he'd finished recently. Jophiel was happy to spend some of the local currency on candles. So the pair of them had made plans for during their time off to go to the candle store and check it out.

Ramiel really liked candles, they soft light they gave off, the flickering light that glowed softly in the darkness. The way that they illuminated something, without being overly bright.

The pair of Primaris Marines go to the Candle shop, it's only about a twenty minute power walk away from the Loyalist Base, and still is in Gannet Point.

After double checking, before heading out to the shop, it was rated Space Marines friendly and they headed into the store. It had wooden colored walls. It had a lot of different kinds of candles in glass containers with wooden tops.

Ramiel coughs a little at the strong scent that comes wafting, invading his nose and he quickly puts on his helmet in order to filter out the almost overwhelming smell of all the different kinds of scented candles.

He sees Jophiel stagger a little bit and his eyes water as he puts on his helmet and groans to Ramiel quietly that he might get a small headache from the overpower smell of the different candles.

Despite that minor hiccup, they look around the shop, there are a bunch of base line humans in the store, and some of them are in the candle shop uniform.

One of them is looking at the pair of Space Marines nervously- one of them going into the employees only section of the shop. Ramiel and Jophiel had noticed that, but were very happy to go through the various candles, lightly holding them and assessing the look, smell and quality of the candles.

Discussing the various pros and cons of the different candles, particularly the scented ones. They turn when they hear someone approach them and see a first born space marine in an Astartes-sized version of the candle shop uniform approach them.

He's heavily scarred and neither Jophiel or Ramiel can figure out which Chapter he's from. "Hello there brothers," The first born says slowly, a slight lisp, due to a scar that carves through his lips that has his face in a permanent sneer. "I see you are enjoying the shop. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Oh- we were just looking for some candles," Jophiel says, the more talktive and outgoing of the pair of Scout aged Primaris Marines cheerfully.

"I can recommend you some Astartes-tolerable scented candles, if you would like." The First born marine offers.

"That would be great," Jophiel says with bright smile.

"I go by Lysander," The First Born says. "Can I know your names?"

"I am Jophiel," Jophiel introduces, and waves a hand at Ramiel, "And this is Ramiel."

"It's nice to meet both of you," Lysander says, "Just as a reminder, little cousins, do you have local currency?"

"I do have local currency with me," Jophiel says as he pulls out a hand stitched and embroidered pouch that rustled with local currency in it.

Lysander nods and goes over the various options for candles that are Astartes-safe scented and they decide on half a dozen different candles. The expense for the hand crafted candles is a little surprising to Jophiel- but he's able to cover the bill with an easy smile.

The way that Ramiel had been like an kid in a candy story as they looked around the Candle store had been worth it, well worth it to see the happy expression on his often melancholic brother-cousin's face.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #adeptus astartes #oc: Ramiel #oc: Jophiel #oc: Lysander #In the Queue

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arsonistmoth · 1 year ago

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Commissions are Open!

Times are a little rough right now and I find myself in need of help paying some crucial bills! So! It is commission time!! Any bit helps and is appreciated greatly.

A few basic rules:

-As an artist I do hold the right to refuse any commission, it might be that I am not confident in my skills enough for what is asked Or the subject matter might be way out of my comfort zone. There are things I will and will not draw buddies!

- All payments must be in US currency (usd) and through P@ypall!

-Payment is asked for once I have finished the cleaned sketch of your flat or full piece and have your OK on how the piece looks.(With sketches It is an upfront payment) -Now, I’m no mind reader, So a Colored reference will be required for each character! If you have a ref but it is not colored I /am/ willing to work with you on color picking but that might add a slight charge to your bill depending on how long it takes to decide on hues! -IF you only have a description of your character or you want me to DESIGN the character for you, that will be a significant additional charge as that sort of work adds hours onto the process. - You may repost your commissioned piece but please, do not crop out my tiny signature and Please remember to credit me wherever you post! - I do not haggle my prices. -Characters with complex markings May require an additional complexity charge. just based on how wild we're talkin.

Things I wont draw

Fandoms that do NOT allow commissions of their artwork Heavy NSFW (think sexual themes) [I only draw these themes for those who are 18+ and are willing to prove as much. no minors allowed] No fetish art Certain pairings(ask me DM and i will let you know if that pairing is ok for me to draw) No underage/Incest/selfcest and things the like. This is an /instant/ no and potential block from me.

Ref sheet rules:

Ref sheets will vary in price based on a number of factors. Complexity of design, number of additional details included, whether or not i design the character for you. All these things can have a hand in the final price of the ref. If you are interested in this option we can discuss your budget and what all you are looking to include. I am always happy to work with people :>

All my artwork is digital and once the piece is complete you will receive the HD, Unwatermarked version in DMs. The version i post publicly will have my main watermark.

Interested? shoot me a message via tumblr/twitter messenger or over at my email [email protected] ! Twitter: Gingergoats BlueSky: Goatsgalore

#art commissions #art commissions open #open commissions #furry commissions #furry commissions open #furry artist #digital artist #Ref sheet commissions #Icon commissions #goat draws #furry art #commissions #commissions open

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theroseceleste · 5 months ago

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Pilot Miguel - Part 9 - Don't Toy With Me

Miguel has a surprise for you but you can only see it when you next see him. What could it be? And where are you going next?

Word count : 5180

Minors DNI

Contains : Smut : use of vibrator, penetrative sex, oral

Enjoy! xx

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

“I bought you something…”

Your phone flashes up with a message from Miguel one afternoon while you’re cleaning the kitchen in your apartment. Putting the sponge down, you pick up your phone and reply after rolling your eyes. The keyboard clacks as you type.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to spend any more money on me…”

You hold the phone and wait. It isn’t long before you see him typing back.

“I think you’ll find we agreed I won’t spend money on you during our trips. You never said anything about when we’re not on our trips.”

Damn it! He’s such a smart ass…

“Trust you to find a loophole. Go on, what did you get me?” you ask in your message back.

“You shall have to wait until we next see each other.”

You groan out loud when you read his reply.

“And when will that be?”

“In a few days time. I'm flying to England and you will be too.”

The phone almost drops out of your hands. England?! That’s one of the top countries you want to visit and you get to do it with your boyfriend!

Paris joins Acapulco in your small but growing collection of distant dreams. However, since then, you have decided to make things official.

Ashley, your roommate, is over the moon for you. Your stories of him getting your phone back in Paris and taking you to Versailles swayed her more to thinking that Miguel is genuine.

You and Ashley did some digging when you returned from Paris. The pair of you searched the hotel’s website for room prices. That man blasted nearly €10,000 for the two nights you spent together! No man who is after just screwing around until he gets bored would throw away that kind of money. This guy likes you. Like, he really likes you. €10,000… And you worried that the Chanel dress was too much… The fact that he spent that crazy amount of money so willingly, without a bat of an eyelid, makes you feel woozy.

Another way of making the relationship ‘official’ is mentioning you have a boyfriend to your parents. Yours and his picture in Paris has been sent to any member of the family who has a phone which is pretty much everyone. The whole freaking family knows about Miguel - thanks to your mother. She’s excited for you though. She can see the stars in your eyes and the blush in your cheeks when you talk about him. It’s only been a short amount of time in the grand scheme of things but the relationship is becoming more serious each time you meet.

The both of you are yet to visit each other’s homes still. But at least you now know he lives in the same city as you.

“Hello? Earth to (Y/N).”

Another text comes in. Your mind went down a rabbit hole for a moment.

“England? Wow! I’ve always wanted to go! Still want to know what you got me…”

“Patience, chiquita…”

Your mind runs wild with ideas about what he’s bought you. You wonder if it has anything to do with England… Well, whatever it is, it better not be nearly ten thousand in any currency!

Now feeling too excited about your upcoming travel, the kitchen suddenly feels even less appealing.

You know it’s the day you fly with Miguel because that’s when you wake up with butterflies fluttering in your stomach the moment you open your eyes.

It’s a blessing and a curse. The blessing; what other way is better than waking up feeling like this? You can’t wait to get the day started, get ready for work, get ready for flying, get ready for him. The curse; why does it have to be so damn early? Looking at the clock, it’s not even seven AM. What makes things worse is that it’s an evening flight, so now that you’re wide awake, you’ll have to wait even longer.

After the hours painfully pass by, you finally make it to the airport. As arranged, you meet up in the staff car park first for a quick, secret reunion kiss before you walk together into the terminal. Now begins the usual airport routine. Queue at check-in, stare daggers at the other girls who wave at your man, then head for security.

He lets you go ahead of him in the queue for security and you start to do the usual. Remove your shoes, placing them into a crate alongside your hand-luggage and cellphone.

As always, you step through the metal detector without triggering it and you begin to get your items packed back in your luggage again as Miguel goes through. By the time you’re done, he comes away from the hand-luggage check area with a bit of a smirk.

“Are you alright?” you ask as he approaches you.

“Fine,” he replies, “they just wanted to check something in my bag.”

After security, you walk through the Duty Free section and find out what gate the plane will be at. Before you approach the staff lounge, you’re surprised when Miguel pulls you aside into a quiet, slightly secluded area near a bathroom.

“Take my luggage into the ladies, open it and wear the thing you find in the clear plastic bag.”

He speaks to you in a hushed tone, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Please…”

“Miguel—“

He looks at you with an expression he hasn’t given you in a while. The novelty of calling him by his name wore off in Paris but you two have been apart since. It seems uttering his name once more does something to him.

“Just do it, chiquita. Por favor?”

You have to admit, you are intrigued.

“Fine.”

Taking his bag, which isn’t at all suspicious - it totally is… you roll it into the deserted ladies bathroom and into a cubicle. You sigh before opening it, your heart pounding slightly as you wonder what he wants you to wear. Probably a different pair of panties or something…

WRONG

Opening the lid, you’re greeted with the plastic bag he told you about. Only it doesn’t have sexy panties in there. Picking it up, you find a silicone vibrator complete with a cord, an absorbent pad and a small bottle of lube. Oh, shit.

You grab your phone and text him immediately.

“Are you fucking serious?!”

The text bubble indicating that he’s typing flashes up, only for a second before a one word reply appears.

“Absolutely.”

The keyboard clacks as you type back.

“You do know there’s supposed to be a remote with this?”

“In my pocket.”

Oh dear lord. This is what security wanted to check. That explains his smirk earlier.

You nearly gasp when you realise this is the thing he bought you.

Another text comes in.

“Better hurry. Your team will be starting the pre-flight brief soon.”

A groan reverberates in your cubicle. Is this really happening? You pinch yourself - ouch - yes, it’s really happening…

Another text flashes up.

“Tick tock…”

You jab back on the screen.

“Yes, alright!”

You finally pull your skirt and panties down. Opening the bottle of lube, you pour some of it onto your fingers and smother it over the curved vibrator, the smooth pink silicone glistening in the light.

Your phone buzzes again, making you flinch. What now?

“Don’t forget to turn it on. I’ll know if you don’t…”

Turning the now slippery item over in your hand you find the power button. You hold it down until a tiny LED light starts blinking.

Another soft groan fills the enclosed space as you position it at your entrance. A gentle push is all it takes as the lubricant does its job. Now nestled inside against your g-spot is the vibrator, primed and ready to make the next six hours an exhausting rollercoaster - starting from now.

BUZZ

“Ahhh!” you cry out as your core is rudely awakened by the intrusive buzzing.

Your legs give out immediately before you fall to the floor. That cheeky bastard of a boyfriend of yours has just activated it. Now you know why he left an absorbent pad in the bag too. At the end of this, you’re going to be wetter than the Atlantic Ocean. The vibrations are jamming everything, your muscles and your thoughts. It’s going to be a miracle if you survive this flight.

The buzzing deep within you stops, and your phone vibrates twice, shortly after.

“Just testing the range.” - Thanks for the warning…

“Also, I hope you’re alone in there. I heard you from here.”

You grumble as you stagger back to your feet, fit the pad into your underwear and get dressed again. He’s going to pay for this, and you have a whole night flight to cook up an evil plan.

Leaving the bathroom is easier than you expected. The toy is nestled nicely within you while cord pokes out, being bent against your clit as your panties are holding it there.

The sound of your heels striking the floor with every footstep makes Miguel look up from his phone.

“There you are,” he says softly as he takes his bag back from you.

He opens it to check the toy is definitively not in there.

“I’m definitely wearing it, O’Hara,” you say, sounding perhaps with a little more attitude than originally intended.

Miguel grabs your arm and pulls you close. His mouth grazes against your ear as he whispers darkly.

“I can hardly grab your pussy to che—“

“Migs!”

He lets go of you immediately and straightens up, eyes wide and twitching slightly.

Oh no…

A short woman with strawberry-blonde bob poking out under her pilot’s hat slides into view. She saw Miguel’s broad shoulder poking out from your little alcove further along the corridor and knew instantly it was him.

“It’s my favourite Captain! Yay!”

“Lyla…” you hear him un-enthusiastic reply.

Like with every flight, when surrounded by people he doesn’t know, he gets uncomfortable and his personality disappears in an instant. You find it strange, but sweet that you have been able to break his barrier, his defensive walls, and see the real him.

Lyla spots you as she approaches.

“Oh… I hope I’m not interrupting anything...”

She looks left and right with an animated expression as if to say ‘oops’.

You don’t feel the slightest bit threatened by Lyla’s presence, and come to think of it, Jess Drew too. They both seem totally unaware of Miguel’s handsomely good looks. Which is relieving for the both of you. However, Lyla makes up for the lack of infatuation by teasing him it seems.

“C’mon, we’ll be boarding soon!”

She pats Miguel on the shoulder as he reluctantly steps away from you. You follow closely behind, amused at how stiff Miguel is in comparison to Lyla. It seems like his comeuppance is starting earlier than you thought. But you have your own delicious plan brewing in your mind…

The pre-flight brief goes well. As always, you’re in first class, which is good news and bad news. First class is the smallest section of the plane so you have fewer people to serve. But this also means you’re likely to be in range from Miguel’s remote control. You squeeze your legs together, feeling the pink cord press against your clit as you do so.

You know for sure Miguel won’t play with the toy until after take off and flying at cruising altitude. He takes check-lists and safety measures far too seriously to get distracted by making you squirm, no matter how much he wants to. However, you just know the first time he does turn it on, it will render you useless.

“So, what’s the story with you and the first-class girl, Migs?” Lyla asks, interrupting the sweet silence as the plane cruises comfortably at forty-thousand feet.

Miguel growls slightly at her nickname for him.

“Who says there’s a story to tell?” he finally responds, sounding cryptic as he keeps a keen eye on the sky.

Quite a bit off to the right, he sees a plane flying in the same direction but at a different altitude. Its engines leave trails streaking behind it.

“C’mon Migs, it’s obvious there’s something going on between you two.”

He blinks momentarily in silence.

“Is that so?”

Lyla shrugs as she watches the sky too.

“The way you look at her for a start. Then, there’s the way she looks back at you. I’ve noticed those quick, not-so-subtle glances between the two of you. The reaffirming smiles before resuming your usual neutral expressions,” she pauses to clear her throat.

“Then, of course I overheard you say something about grabbing her puss—“

“Lyla!” he snaps, doing everything he can to stop her completing her sentence.

“What?! Just saying - there’s a story to tell…”

Miguel’s cheeks redden.

“Don’t forget the black boxes are listening to every word you say in the cockpit,” he growls.

“Yeah, I know. And that only gets listened to if something bad happens to the plane. Besides, we’re just having a conversation. Not my fault you can’t keep your cool.”

He notices a grin on her face. She’s so laid back and carefree it’s a wonder how she got into flying. Very much like Parker; good when it comes to the serious stuff, but the moment the plane’s on autopilot, they relax almost a little too much.

“I’d just appreciate it if we don’t discuss my personal life in the cockpit.”

Miguel glances at the apparatus, making sure everything is as it should be.

“Whatever you say, Migs,” Lyla replies as she gets up from her chair and leaves the cockpit to take a short bathroom break.

Now alone, a small smile creeps across his face as his hand leaves the yoke and goes into his pocket…

You have just finished serving dinner to the first-class passengers as the plane soars eastwards into the darkening sky. Standing in the galley, you’re aware that Lyla has exited the cockpit and locked the door behind her, to stop anyone unauthorised from getting in.

Just as you’re about to take a sip of your drink of water, it begins. A deep, buzzing sensation erupts in your core, pressing right up against your g-spot. You double over and clasp a hand over your mouth to stifle a yelp. Fuck!

As the strong vibrations stimulate your insides, the cord of the toy tickles your sensitive bud too. Your eyes almost roll backwards as you feel like your body has been jump started with an electric shock. Your muscles tensing as you sink to the floor of the galley as quietly as possible.

Then you feel a trickle of arousal begin to drip. You’re thankful that he considered the state you’d be in once he’s done toying with you.

The persistent buzzing changes into a pulsing rhythm, he’s changed it to a different mode and you curse him under your breath as it arouses you even further.

You take deep breaths to try and push through the hampering moment. Your body adjusting to the pleasurable disturbances within you.

Finally, it stops just before Lyla unlocks the bathroom door. You quickly rise to your feet, albeit a little wobbly and looking wildly flustered.

Lyla’s eyes land on you as she emerges from the bathroom and looks at you quizzically.

“You alright?” she asks, raising an amused eyebrow.

You nod as you’re not sure you’re able to speak.

“Ooookay…” Lyla says, strongly suspecting that something is definitely going on as she shuts the bathroom door and enters the security code to gain access to the cockpit.

Miguel stores the remote back in his pocket, his cock twitches slightly at the thought of you clenching around the vibrator. However he has to stop fantasising over how wet and needy you’re going to be for him later as Lyla steps back into the cockpit.

“Whatever you did to her just now, she’s all flustered in the galley…” Lyla reports as she takes her seat and straps herself in.

“And you say there’s no story to tell…”

The Captain stares blankly into the dark blue sky, transitioning into solid black. Eventually, a small smirk grows across his lips which his co-pilot notices.

“Naughty boy…”

“I didn’t go out there and do anything…”

“You don’t have to, I know what you’re doing.”

Miguel can tell that Lyla is avoiding saying exactly what he’s doing in fear of him snapping at her again, but he’s amazed that she worked it out so damn quickly. She definitely is smart and incredibly observant.

A few times within every hour the flight takes, your boyfriend activates that damn toy. Each time, you nearly drop, or accidentally throw something into the air; the vibrations are that powerful and distracting. You recover quickly from them though as your body becomes desensitised to the initial shock when it starts each time. There have been a few occasions where he left it on long enough to nearly trigger an orgasm, only to cruelly leave you gasping and panting heavily as he turns it off before you get your release.

When Miguel’s voice sounds throughout the cabin telling passengers and crew to prepare for landing, you feel great relief as you know he’ll be leaving that remote well alone for the rest of the flight.

You’re absolutely soaked. The pad Miguel gave you did a good job, but even that is starting to struggle. If you feel one more vibration you’re certain you’ll cum on the spot. And you swear, when you get your hands on that man when you’re alone, you’ll give him everything he deserves.

The plane lands safely and smoothly as always, despite the raging arousal coursing through you, you can’t help but feel proud of your man.

Going through customs is once again hell, but this time for different reasons. Most of the excitable cabin crew have given up trying to flirt with the Captain. They eventually get the idea that they’d have better chances with a brick wall. This time, the struggle is Miguel being a smug bastard.

At any given moment that he can touch you, he does, without it looking too obvious. He’s driving you crazy and he knows it as you queue to have your passport checked. With all the teasing during the flight, you’re extremely aroused and needy. You can’t wait to get your hands on him.

“Do you need to head to the bathroom to, um… sort yourself out?” he asks quietly once you’re both cleared from customs.

A smirk forms on your face.

“Oh no, I’m good, thanks.”

He raises a quizzical eyebrow.

“You’ve removed it already?” he asks as his brown eyes wander over your hand luggage.

“Nope, still in there.”

His gaze snaps back to you.

“Did you enjoy your new toy?”

“Oh yes. I can’t wait to use it again later too…”

You give him a Cheshire Cat grin, the plan you have in mind will be delicious. The both of you make your way out of the airport terminal and to the hotel you’re booked into.

The room you have is nothing special, but you don’t care. What’s more important is who’s with you and what you’re about to do with them.

As soon as your hotel room door is closed you pounce on him. Desperate hands seize his uniform as hungry lips meet his. There’s a loud thud as he falls against the wall while the pair of you make-out furiously.

Before you become aware, his hand slips into his pocket. You hear a click followed by the deep buzzing sound inside your overstimulated core.

“Fuck!” you almost yell into his mouth as you lean against him for support.

His arms wrap around you, leaving the vibrator going, pulsing against your g-spot.

“The whole flight I wondered how you looked when I turned this on.”

He kisses your neck as you shudder, mouth agape, struggling to hold yourself together. Your plan is slowly slipping out of your hands. Losing yourself to this rapidly building orgasm. Do you surrender?

“I wish I was there for the first time I did it.”

Your resolve strengthens, trying to ignore every intrusive pulse massaging your sensitive spot.

“The first time had me on the floor in the galley,” you manage to reply in a breathless manner.

Miguel groans in your ear. Clearly the image of you sinking to the floor where anyone could find you while your body conceals a vibrator turns him on. He imagines how flustered you’d look if you were discovered. Or how you’d feel if it brought you to orgasm in front of a passenger.

You have to have the last laugh today. He can’t win again.

Your fingers begin to undo his jacket as you look at his tie; giving you an idea. A desperate groan leaves your lips as you squeeze your thighs together. The vibrations are almost too much.

“Turn it off…” you whisper, your brows knitted together with need.

“I want you to cum on it…”

“I want to cum on your cock,” you retort, you aren’t simply stating what you want, it’s an order.

He looks down at you as he feels you peel the jacket off of his shoulders. This is a new tone from you and he thinks he likes it. So demanding. But then again, what else should he expect from someone who’s been teased over five to six hours?

Your fingers now undo his tie, slipping the regal purple material from under his collar.

Another desperate groan fills the room as you try to resist a climax, spurring him on to reach for his pocket and turn it off.

A heavy sigh of relief is released from your parted lips. Your eyes close as you relish in the peace and stillness within you. The muscles in your core relax once more, unclenching around the toy.

You step away and remove your uniform, keeping his tie wrapped around your hand.

“What do you intend to do with that?” Miguel asks, gesturing towards his tie before removing his crisp white shirt.

“Finish getting undressed and you’ll find out,” you reply slyly.

Before long, you’re both naked and lying on the bed, kissing one another hungrily. You decide to turn it up a notch.

“I’m so wet for you…”

He moans as he imagines what it’s going to feel like, sliding into your heat with ease.

Your hand glides down his front as you watch his muscles flex under your delicate touch, until they reach his urgent dick.

“Looks like you’re ready for me…”

Miguel nods in response. Now it’s him looking all needy. Perfect.

“Turn over, baby. Hands behind your back.”

His half-closed eyes widen as he puts two and two together.

“You’re using my tie to restrain me, chiquita?” he mumbles.

You bite your lip and nod your head, hoping he’ll go ahead with this.

To your surprise, he does as you say. His magnificent body turns over on the bed. The muscles in his arms and back flex as he places his hands behind him.

Slowly you wrap the long purple material around his wrists and tie them together, making it as complex as possible so he can’t wriggle out of it.

Then, just because it’s there, you bite his ass cheek, like you did in Paris, earning a grunt before a groan as you suck on his firm skin.

“Fuck, baby… You hungry?”

“Mhmmm… very…”

“Get up and sit on the couch,” you instruct him before spanking his peachy ass which elicits a yelp.

You like this power you have over him. It feels good to change things up a bit.

Now, without the use of his arms, he struggles to get off of the bed. You decided to help him up.

He flops back into the couch, positioning his backside further forward on the cushion so he can make room for his restrained arms. His gorgeous, narrow hips presented perfectly for you. Ready and waiting.

His gaze rests upon you as you finally pull the vibrator from your pussy. It almost feels strange now that it’s gone. He nearly moans as he notices how much it glistens in the light.

The cushion dips even lower as you straddle his hips. The two of you look at each other quietly as you rest your hands against his shoulders and lower your hips slightly until the tip of his length kisses your drenched entrance.

“Is this my punishment for teasing you? I’m not allowed to touch you?” he asks seductively, thinking it’s cute you want to punish him.

“Maybe…” you whisper against his lips as you slowly start to sit.

“Maybe not…”

The tight ring of your core crowns his cock before sinking lower, taking him in deeper and deeper. You’re that wet, no hands are required to keep him in place. He just slides in with complete ease.

Whether it is his punishment or not, it’s already working. Your torturous descent on his shaft spurs him on to wriggle his arms to try and break free. To pull you onto him fully, to get you to take him right up to the hilt.

He feels so deep inside you, far deeper than the toy ever reached. It’s so satisfying feeling the hot skin of his dick infiltrating you, only adding to the inferno generated inside of you from the vibrator.

“Mhmmm chiquita, if this isn’t my punishment, then what is?”

His breath is shaky, making it almost impossible to speak. He starts to wonder what he’s got himself into.

“You’ll see…” you reply with a smirk.

You start off slow. Rippling your body with every rise and fall. Each ripple generates a delicious grind of your clit against his perfectly defined ‘V’ above his hips. With all the teasing you endured, you don’t think it’ll take too long. The smooth, pre-cum dripping head of his shaft gently massages over your g-spot, making up for the persistent, sharp, buzzing it has received over the last few hours.

“Mhmm you’re so deep inside me baby…” you moan to him before speeding up a bit.

He lets out a pathetic moan as you compliment his size, commenting how far inside of you he can reach.

“Keep riding me, chiquita - more…”

“You want more?”

“Ssssí~” he hisses with pleasure, his eyes almost closed.

You increase your efforts, speeding up, grinding harder. But then you cool things down, slowing and doing lighter ripples. He simply whimpers for more. You grin, this still isn’t his punishment.

For what feels like the millionth time today, a tightening sensation builds within you. His noises of need working alongside physical and satisfying stimulation, inside and out, brings you closer to your release.

He senses this too. Your moans are increasing in pitch and your breathing quickens. The hot, moist walls of your core clench hard around him. Harder than ever. He’s certainly given you a workout.

“Faster, please baby, faster!” he begs you, his voice breaking as he tries to speak

That desperation in his voice as he begs you is your tipping point. Your release feels well and truly mind blowing. You kiss him between your moans as you slow down your efforts.

“No…” he pauses as you kiss him, “no, don’t stop…”

You smirk against his lips as you brush his hair from his face.

“I’m all tired out, baby… it’s been a long day.”

“No! Please! You can’t just stop right now…”

Despite his urgent protests, you dismount him and step away from the couch. He cries out for you, moaning, begging.

His voice dies down however when he sees you grab the toy and the remote from his trousers pocket.

“What- what are you…”

“Shhh…” you hush him as you kneel between his parted legs in front of the sofa.

“You must be quiet, people are still sleeping…” you whisper to him with a grin.

The relentless buzz returns as you turn it on with the remote. This time, it’s louder as it’s no longer buried within you.

Miguel pants as he watches you inch the toy closer to his throbbing cock.

You press it against the sensitive tip, making his whole body tense up as he cries out again.

“Shhh… don’t make a sound remember? Just like how I couldn’t on the plane.”

He tips his head back as he tries to breathe deeply through the intense sensation. This is his punishment, like-for-like payback.

Slowly, you swirl the vibrating toy around the top, alternating in pressure with every revolution. His body jolts and tenses with each agonising moment that passes.

Then you drag the vibrator down the underside of his dick, running over every vein until you reach his balls.

He arches his back violently as his legs open wider in response to your teasing. You notice that he’s being quiet now, gritting his teeth.

Pre-cum beads at his slit after a large throb.

“Chi- chiquita…” he whispers, his big brown eyes looking at you pleadingly.

“Lo siento~” (I’m sorry)

His hips jolt again.

“Por favor, lo siento~” (Please, I’m sorry)

To change things up, you run the toy up and down his shaft, all around it.

You’re teasing him so much that pre-cum pools at the base of his length.

Another click on the remote changes the intensity and pattern. Rather than just constant buzzing, it pulses in a slow and steady rhythm. You watch, hypnotised as his hips thrust against the toy, desperately seeking more contact and stimulation.

Sweat beads on his skin, glinting in the light as he struggles to find his release.

Finally, you feel he’s been punished enough. The buzzing instantly stops at the press of the remote button and you put the toy aside.

Before he can say or do anything, your hands reach behind him to undo his restraints as you take him into your mouth. The taste of salt spreads across your tongue as you swirl it around the head.

“Fuck, chiquita!” he grunts as his arms break free.

Desperate fingers tug at your perfect bun, destroying the hair style and letting your locks tumble down around your face. With his hands in your hair, he pulls you down gently, careful not to make you choke.

Eventually, he pulls you up, making you release him with a wet pop. In one swift motion, he picks you up and carries you to the bed.

“I need to be inside you, properly…” he mumbles before placing you gently on the mattress.

Within seconds he’s on top of you, making love to you, grunting heavily into your ear.

He brings you to climax, one after another, until he finally gets his release. Loud groans fill the hotel room, erupting from his parted lips.

“Shhh! You’ll wake the other hotel guests…” you hush him before giggling quietly.

“I don’t care - fuck them…” he groans into your ear again.

“I’d rather you fuck me,” you retort.

“Your wish is my command…”

I hope you enjoyed Part 9! Part 10 and 11 are out on early access on Patreon.

Next Chapter >

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hanasnx · 1 year ago

Note

187 and 7 for anakin 😈

prompt: #187

prompt list | rules

minors dni 18+

word count: 0.9k | character(s): tcw!anakin skywalker x f!reader

notes: specifically written for the clone wars' characterization of anakin. i chose to go with #187 bcos ive been needing an excuse to make this specific idea happen lmao i hope u like it

warnings: light gambling, no smut, strip game, youre barely clothed in front of clones (implied), you're wearing a bralette mention, commander!reader, no y/n

"General Skywalker,” a trooper beckons, catching up with the striding officer to fall into step with him.

“Lieutenant.” Anakin greets with a nod. The pair pass by compatriots, ignoring the bustle of their surroundings as they share a conversation.

“Some advice, sir?”

Anakin quirks a brow, regarding the lieutenant with a side glance. “You’re asking?”

“The Commander, sir, she cleans us out every time we play scraps, and we’re almost sure she’s—“

“Cheating?” That’s well within your character, so much so it makes him scoff. You’re clever, and not to say his boys aren’t. They have more integrity than you.

The trooper remains uneasy, as if he’s implicated a higher ranking official by tattling to his battalion general. “Yeah… Er, yes, sir.” The only reason he came to Anakin was because of the close nature of his relationship with the Commander.

“It’s loaded dice, Lieutenant.” Anakin replies, certain without the need to check. He’s aware of your past, and how you use it to take advantage of those too trusting. Playing dishonestly in some light gambling isn’t the worst thing you’ve gotten away with. The thought of it pulls the other end of his lips into a smile. A devious plan forming in his head while his clone trooper bangs his fist against his palm in eureka.

“Ah, ha! Perfect, I’ll go tell the boys—“ That tone of triumph within the trooper, paired with his near escape, snaps Anakin’s mind to the present. His hand shoots out, clutching onto his subordinate’s upper arm, effectively arresting him.

“Lieutenant.”

Again, he’s nervous in his answer. “… Yes? Sir?”

Anakin’s close, lowering his voice so as to keep the matter between them. “Why don’t you let me handle this?”

“Oh, no way I’m playing scraps with a Jedi.” you interject as soon as your eyes lay on the smug face of Anakin Skywalker entering the room, cutting through the group of clones. You slump in your chair, crossing your arms.

“Not to worry, Commander,” Anakin draws a chair to sit down. “You have my word I won’t cheat.” he pronounces the word while holding your gaze, and you jerk your head away. Aside from being suspicious he’s remarkably accusatory, you’re worried his disapproval is driving him to expose your operation to humiliate you. It’s annoying how high of a horse he sits on. Anakin glances between the others at this little table, “Mind if I join?”

“—Not at all, General,”

“—‘Course not.”

The troopers reply, however you can smell the tension caused by their superior catching them in the act of partaking in a gambling game. Not just their boss, but a force sensitive as well. His word may be currency within the Order, but here it means jack when real money’s on the line. Luckily, the game only needs two to play.

You roll your eyes in reluctant compliance, and land all four legs of your chair onto the ground with a bang. Anakin remains unperturbed. In fact, he’s unwaveringly staring you down, awaiting your next move. So you oblige him, leaning forward to sweep your red pair of dice off the table into your hand. “Alright, well, you know the rules. Roll a seven, and you get the pot—“

Quick to interrupt you, you frown at the General for his outburst, “Unfortunately, I don’t have any money.”

You slow, and scoff in disbelief at his audacity. “So, why are you wasting my time then?” The foul disposition he created by inviting himself to this table is worsened by how obvious it is he’s keen on tripping you up.

“I thought we’d roll for a strip.” he responds. His body language is cool, and open. Curled forward with a palm on his thigh and his elbow resting on the surface. As if he’s so comfortable with offering that up, as if you’d take it. You roll your jaw while you consider it. When you take too long, his gaze sweeps across the crowding onlookers of clones. “Don’t you wanna give the boys a show?” There’s murmuring amongst the throng, and now you’ll look like a coward for refusing. Besides, there’s no way Anakin would win with a pair of dice like these.

You straighten, the dice noisily shaking in your fist, “Get ready to leave in your underwear, Skywalker.”

On dramatic cue, Anakin tucks his hand in between the layers of his robes, to retrieve a pair of white dice from his breast pocket.

“Actually, Commander, I want to use these. They’re lucky.” A phrase that derailed your confidence as easily as tipping over the first domino. Talking a big game, winning as much as you had before, it’d be obvious you weren’t playing fair as soon as you roll with these. However, you can’t deny it now or else look completely guilty.

Anakin witnesses you visibly shift in expression, adjusting in your seat to call attention away from it as you clear your throat. That cocky energy dissolves before his eyes as you shove your own lucky charms into your pants, and silently ask for his with an outstretched palm. He pours them into your hand.

It isn’t long at all before you sit, cold, in your metal chair. Disrobed and bare, save for your panties and bralette. You tap your arm impatiently, the stressed vein pronounced in the skin of your forehead as you pray on Anakin’s downfall for revenge. He cares not, delighted even, as he collects his winning die from the table one by one.

It’s what you get for taking advantage of his battalion.

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misssakurapetal28 · 1 year ago

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astarab1aze · 7 months ago

Text

➥ Runaway Mage

⸻Technical Information. // Face, Voice, etc.

01. Faceclaim. Yoru [ Shishi no Odoriko ] & Personal or Comm'd art 04. Voice Claim. Miyavi, if he had noticeable vocal cord damage

⸻Profile Information. // Name, Age, etc.

01. Name. Kaede Shikabane 02. Alias. Shizuka, Kae 03. Sex. Male 04. Gender. Male 05. Age. 46 [ Dependent ] 06. Birth Date. October 31st [ Balemagus ] 07. Blood Type. AB+ 08. Race. Half-Elfhen & Half-Feline, Zurine by nationality ; Yuureian by ethnicity. 09. Marital Status. Single [ Multiship ] 10. Orientation. Bisexual [ Biromantic / heavy male preference ] 11. Residence. He has no home, ever on the move, trying a little too hard to escape his own life in more ways than one.

⸻Physical Information. // Body, Equipment, Family, etc.

17. Physical Description. Kaede’s hair is rather long and layered, so it tends to sit in a boyish, fly-away sort of way. It’s a dark violet shade - or, pretentiously, midnight - and incredibly soft to the touch. The lighter, floral blue of his eyes contrasts nicely with his hair. More often than not, he prefers to wear it down, as he feels the style compliments his overall appearance. His body is slim with some light toning and he stands at a rough 5'5", a little on the short side even for an elf. His skin is somewhat unusually pale, denoting a lack of sleep and improper nutrition. He wears a crimson jade hip ornament said to have healing properties, handed down in his family by patriarchal members. He has an abundance of barely-there freckles all over his body and both self-harm & combat scars, a large gash across his throat and quite a few on each of his thighs - and many more on his arms, front, and back; Also has a birthmark under his right buttcheek that looks something like a smeary bruise. There is a surgical scar on his right hip caused by a near-ruinous injury and the surgery that followed. On each pointed long-ear, his lobes are pierced, as well as two cuffs on his right ear. He has a natural pair of darkly spotted snow leopard ears and a long, fluffy tail as well as slit pupils, long canines, patches of dark fur along his spine and shoulders, and claw-like nails. Also x3, he has a phenomenal ass.

13. Equipment. He is effectively always ready for a fight, keeping a Yuureian silsaph katana and at least four knives of varying styles and lengths on his person at all times. He will also have various items kept in a limitless bag including Zurine medical tools, a journal, palmseal, singing stones, minor husbandry tools, some specific alchemical reagents, witchlights, a collection of both expired and current border passes, various international currencies, witchlights, and some other magical items and tools. 14. Occupation. Untethered sorcier with allegiance to no governing body on the continent ; He has chosen to never kill for a ruler or agency, as well as never to be a court mage, devoting himself to a life of drifting in order to escape his obligations. 15. Job Performance. Not Applicable 16. Parents. Juno Miris of Lakensov, Vago (deceased) and Kurai Shikabane of Chiisana, Yuurei (deceased) ; He doesn't much remember his mother and though he doesn't know it, she remains attached to him in spirit as a demonic presence - his father, however, he is glad to be rid of. 17. Siblings. Terin Shikabane (deceased) and Morrigan ( @elysiumtouched ) through seemingly tenuous relations, but they are in fact all half-brothers.

⸻Personality Information. // Likes, Strengths, etc.

18. Likes. Kirati dragon's breath, Myrrdinian chocolate oranges, specifically Yuureian tea, most animals, long moonlit walks, most international foods, taking naps, drawing, listening to local street music, dancing, men with light hair, singing, spending time with his lixni Muushi, Vagoan whisky, knives, flowers, black coffee, sharing snacks and drinks, ignoring Crimson-Talon letters, reading and researching, exploring old ruins, etc. 19. Dislikes. Inefficiency, most mushrooms, most sweet things, being forced to improvise, being flustered or confused, blood on his skin or staining his clothes, the sight of corpses, failure, imperfection, being responsible for other people’s lives, lack of control, being noticed, most nightfolk, most humans, all Wildlings, the undead, cottonmouth cakes, scarbuncle cheese, most other sorciers, most other elves, etc.

20. Positive Traits. Honest. Diligent. Loyal. Protective. Committed. Persistent. Strong willed. Hard-working. Thoughtful. Kind. Generous. Earnest. Firm. Loving. Prepared. Giving. Mostly merciful. Self-sacrificing. Open-minded. Accepting. Proud. 21. Negative Traits. Distrustful. Obstinate. Conflicted. Reckless. Guarded. Hard-headed. Hot-tempered. Bratty. Snobby. Self-loathing. Self-conscious. Reactive. Melancholic. Isolative. Impatient. A smidge obsessive. May get jealous. Envious. Naive. Prone to panic. 22. Goals. To try to find a way to beat the madness before it takes him. 23. Desires. Freedom from his grief, and forgiveness for the lives he couldn’t save or had to take, whether against his will or not; To love and be loved as though he were truly worthy of it. He’s tired of floating through life with nothing to show for it, and being hunted as a consequence. 24. Alignment. Neutral Good

25. Personality. Kaede has some difficulty forming relationships with other people and is generally very slow to start. Incidentally, this frees up a lot of his time, so he pours nearly all his focus into his work. He’s incredibly flawed in some aspects of his reasoning and decision-making, despite his intelligence, having assigned an arbitrary amount of blame to himself for past failures and horrific incidences, perceived or not. He’s the small and silent type, with a spoonful of emotional baggage and social ineptitude. Though he comes off as cold and formal at times, he has a mischievous streak and can be rather playful under the right conditions. He can also be sweet and somewhat boyish, though he’s mostly a bit bratty and hardheaded. He’s a sensitive soul at the end of the day, riddled with trauma responses and other behaviors resulting from years upon years of emotional, mental, and physical abuses - where the bulk of his trust and mental health issues stem from. He has vivid flashbacks about the massacres, nightmares too, and such will drag him back into an incosollable state of fear and misery. Although, he tends to hide, like a feline trying to lick their wounds in private.

⸻Sorcery Information. // Affinity, Talent, etc.

26. Affinity. Necrotic and Fire - high-level control, practiced and mastered well at the Zurine Mages' University. 27. Shapeshifting. Not applicable - he never cared much for transformation as a school of magic and wasn't born naturally capable of it in the first place. 28. Utility. Wards, curses, summoning, husbandry, and illusions - moderate. 29. Specialization. Lightning Magic, summoning, illusions, and some Bestial magic - highly skilled thanks to years of careful study, practice, and fine-tuned familial & cultural techniques handed down for generations. 30. Graduate School. Zurine Mages’ University - the only active school for mages on the pangea ; Extremely dedicated to quality, well-rounded education and therefore expensive, though they do offer scholarships based on potential ; Open to all magical folk, or those who can afford it ; Generally treated as a sort of haven for them. 31. Classification. Anthromorph, Runaway Mage ; Anthromorphs are a sub-type of shapeshifter or were whose human and primary animal forms are permanently apparent in some combination - they are equally as animal as they are ‘human’ in appearance and physiology. Kaede is somewhat different as he gets his animal parts from his elfhen side ; Runaway mages, or untethered sorciers (typically), are effectively deserters and thereby marked for capture and hollowing, which drains a mage of their magic and leaves them a weak, nearly-mindless husk of their former selves - there is a steeper cost to receiving an education at the University.

⸻Background Information. // Past to Present. // Warnings for...death, arranged marriages, underage marriage, murder, cheating, very dysfunctional families, abuse, and other things that were kinda common in medieval times. There's a lot more to Kaede's story et all, but I've kinda beaten all the details to death.

Kaede has really only ever known death and misery over the course of his life.

Born to miserable people - Juno of Clan Miris in Lakensov, a free spirit of a fledgling warrior, and Kurai of the Shikabane Clan out of Yuurei, an insecure, powerless man - in a miserable, atypical arranged marriage brought on by desperate need for saphluvium and pig-iron. Juno was young when she was promised to Zenchuu Shikabane, and at the time, Kurai was only a handful years older than her. The two were inseparable when they met, and Zenchuu, next in line as head of the Shikabane, thought nothing of it. Allowing Juno and Kurai to befriend one another - seemed only fair when considering how much older Zenchou was in reality (14 versus 349). But such was the way of things, to secure much needed resources.

Some Vagoans dedicate their lives entirely to monster hunting and extermination, curse breaking, escorting, smuggling, artisanship, among other related fields of work - they forge their weapons and tools with saphluvium, silver, and both proper and pig-iron. With local mines fast-depleting, the Miris Clan was losing grip on their trade, gradually becoming poorer and poorer. It came to a point they couldn't take care of the children anymore, so they arranged marriages, hoping to restore their clan through agreements, alliances, and, well, marriages. Insodoing with Juno, they were able to secure enough iron, silver, and saphluvium to get back on track and breathe some new life back into their clan and community - the hope, then, was that her new family would treat her well and care for her in the ways they couldn't at the time, though it took much longer than it seems, and she wasn't treated well.

The Shikabane are, in some ways, obsessed with death due to generational curses, malice, and genuine evil that'd taken root hundreds of years ago. For some time, they were isolatory, refusing to interact with anyone outside the clan. Naturally, predictable problems cropped up, problems that some were desperate to be rid of and others were only too happy to wallow in. Much of their history is buried, though accurate and detailed descriptions of what sins were committed by their number exist, if only in theory. Such that happened to Juno, whose betrayal of Zenchuu by having an affair with Kurai resulted in her murder a handful years later, when Kaede was small enough to perhaps not remember her later on in life...and the Madness that gripped Taisho, the head of the family before Zenchou, that caused him to slaughter so many.

The madness persisted, and it was soon found a host of demons had possessed certain members of the Shikabane hundreds of years before, biding their time, lying in wait, on top of the threat of ever encroaching insanity - the curse of the Mad Empress all elfhen are subject to. Worse still, it was found Taisho aimed to use Kaede in a blood ritual as a vessel to house the devils inhabiting his body at the time. Taisho violently killed as many people as he could, from the oldest members of the clan to some of the youngest, and far too many had died before he could be stopped by the likes of Kurai and the few who remained that weren't children.

From that day on, though the blame wasn't Kaede's to bear, he was treated as responsible for it all because he was mentioned by name in Taisho's journals, multiple times. Endless obsessive rants about stealing his body, smothering his soul, working his way up to clan head again, murder murder murder- Kaede was special after all. The only member of the family in hundreds of years capable of wielding not one, not two, but multiple forms of magic with a very unique proclivity toward lightning magic and illusions. Taisho killed so many just for a chance to take him and use him, so the remaining family associated Kaede with their loss, as the cause of it, the reason. More than that, however, was the fear Taisho's ritual had worked, and the simple fact Kaede was there where Taisho was dead.

So Kaede got the brunt of everyone's wrath, but especially Kurai's. All failure, every misstep, every stumble out of line was punished severely for years. Kurai would beat him, lock him up in a cell beneath the main house, isolate him through manipulation, shunning, setting too many expectations for him to follow, preventing him from ever leaving the estate. He was kept a prisoner in his own home, taumatized and without any support, forced to learn how to master certain family techniques until such a time came they decided to ship him off to Zuri with Aoi and Terin.

Terin died along the way, slaughtered by Wildlings on the border between Chimeria and western Vago. It wasn't Kaede's fault, but Aoi would see his failed plan as the cause regardless, but the truth was that the Wildlings were faster and armed with silsaph blades. They didn't stand a chance, not really, not ever. In the end, Terin knew this well and had already accepted his fate, thinking of his death before it came a sacrifice to see Kaede and Aoi get away. It would've been easier if Kaede'd been the one who died, however, for upon arrival in Zuri, Aoi informed the sorciers in Azura of Kaede's ineptitude - bitter and angry at Terin's passing. For the following ten years, he wasn't allowed to leave the University tower, at all, put on an effective house arrest until one day, they ended this punishment and gave him an ultimatum: Serve us willingly, or serve us in death.

Naturally, he took their offer - anything to be free, even if only for a little while. They were unwilling to allow his talents go to waste, no matter how he felt on the issue, and resolved themselves to use him exclusively to suit whatever ends they saw fit. Treating him in his beastly-elfhen form as expendable, only still breathing because he's useful to them, ostracized by all irrespective of him in his totality. And, for a time, he played along, intending fully to escape the minute he breathed his first breath of fresh air outside the tower.

When such opportunity arose, tasked with hunting down a runaway mage, he killed his companions in cold blood, burned the order, and ran. He's been running ever since.

#➥ Kaede.#♞ // Verse: Of Endless Suffering.#/ bleh #/ not happy about how i wrote the backstory so might rewrite it at a later date #/ servicable for now tho

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