#Pursuit Plane | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stairain · 2 years ago

Text

Vegas Redemption.

You spot Spencer at a hotel lounge alone, you see has a ring on his finger, but that doesn't stop you.

Warnings: Dom + Rough Spencer, sort of switch reader, brat reader, light drinking, cheating, his wife is cheating on him too so don't worry, cunnilingus, hair pulling, mentions of Spencer getting reader pregnant.

WC: 7K

A “business trip” is what you had told your friends, when you packed your bags for the weekend and all too eagerly got on a plane to Vegas. After all, being coined the “city of sin” and going just for business seemed foolish.

Adorned in elegance and dripping in determination, you made your way from your hotel room to the bottom floor with a fiery look of pursuit in your sultry eyes.

You're walking through the cozy and sultry atmosphere of the hotel lounge, the bar immediately catching your eye. It wasn't because of the wide range of drinks they had on display, nor was it the colorful light fixtures they had installed above said drinks. It was because a beautiful stranger was sitting alone at the bar, keeping to himself as he sipped on his drink.

You waltz over to him, subtly going to sit a few seats away from him, you couldn't pounce just yet.

He sits at the bar, drinking quietly. The only sign that he's noticed your presence is a slight turn of his head to the side, his eyes fixed on his glass in front of him. He keeps his back straight and his hands on the counter. When you sit close to him, his eyes look up at you and he smiles briefly before taking another sip of his drink. His expression returns to complete indifference when his eyes return to his glass, and he takes another slow, deliberate sip. The drink is probably an expensive scotch.

As he raises the glass to meet his lips, you squint and look at his finger. A ring. The man was married.

But that did nothing to deter you, in fact, it only made you want him more. You would make him yours, he wouldn't belong to whatever woman sported the other ring, not after tonight.

After you order a drink of your own, you slowly get up from your seat, and migrate to the one directly next to him. A playful smile is plastered on your face.

You can see him look at you briefly as you move closer, and the corner of his mouth lifts very slightly - the barest hint of a smile - before he returns his attention to his drink. He doesn't say anything, but you notice that he sets the glass down more gently than he needed to, in a way that shows he doesn't mind having you close.

You tilt your head to the side a bit as he doesn't immediately look at you, but still flashes the tiniest smile. "What brings you here? Business trip, vacation.. an escape, maybe?"

Your tone is teasing, insinuating that he was here to get away from whatever wife he has at home, whatever wife he would inevitably be taken away from anyways.

He looks up at you when you speak, the faintest smile on his face, and he runs his thumb along the edge of his glass in the most casual way, as though he's doing it purely out of idle habit. His eyes scan you for a moment, his gaze stopping over your face and body for just a moment too long before returning to the glass. He seems completely relaxed. His tone is calm and almost lazy when he speaks, and he almost seems amused by you.

"An escape."

Bingo. That was the exact answer you were hoping for. You lean forward a bit and choose your next words carefully.

"From what.. or who..? If you don't mind me asking, Sir."

The only response you get at first is a faint quirk of his lips, followed by a slow sip of the scotch in his glass. When he's finished, he sets the glass down and looks at you with a mild amusement in his eyes.

“What's it worth to you, darling?" His voice is low and soft with a hint of a sarcasm, his hazel eyes studying you calmly, with just the slightest flare of interest lurking just beneath the surface of that studied calm.

The bartender hands you your own glass, and you raise it to your own lips, licking over them in a teasing manner before taking a small sip.

"Everything, depending on your answer."

He lets out a low chuckle after you speak, and you can see a trace of genuine amusement in his eyes now. His eyebrows raise in a playful way, as though he's impressed, but his tone remains calm when he speaks.

"Is that so? Very well then."

He turns in the barstool to face you, leaning in casually and running his right palm over the back of his neck for just a moment before he stops.

"My wife is cheating on me."

You can't help the wicked smirk that creeps on your features at hearing that. Your eyes flash from his ring, back up to his mysterious eyes. Taking another sip from your drink, your other hand reaches out to touch the ring on his finger. You don't say anything.

His smile only grows with your smirk, and you can see the playfulness in his gaze deepen slightly as your hand reaches out and touches his ring. His dark eyes never leave you, and you can see that playfulness in the faint quirk at the corner of his mouth and the twinkle in his eye, as though you both know that he's not planning on staying married for much longer.

"And you want a chance to replace her, don't you?"

His tone is neutral, but there is an undercurrent of amusement in his voice. Something in his expression dares you to say it aloud.

Quickly looking up at him and stopping your movements, your smile only grows. Your touch retracts from him, and you lean back into your own seat.

"What are my odds, sir?" You say with a cocky tone, lifting your glass to your mouth.

He laughs, as though he appreciates your boldness. You can see the amusement in his eyes grow, and it's clear that your confidence is having a definite effect on him. His voice is tempting when he responds, and the corner of his mouth tilts up in a teasing smile.

"Very high, as long as you play your cards right, sweetheart."

"If you're the one dealing the cards, it seems I've already won.."

The tone in your voice has significantly lowered, but the confidence and cockiness never left, if anything, it only grew. This man would be yours, and by the end of the night, you'd hope to pawn that ring of his and buy him a one way ticket to your place.

He smiles at you as he takes another sip of his drink, holding his position for a moment before he leans a little closer and speaks in a soft tone.

"Now darling, it wouldn't be any fun if I just gave the prize away so easily, would it? Do you know how to play your part, or do you need me to help teach you?" His voice is quiet with a hint of an invitation in it, his smile playful and teasing as his eyes scan you from top to bottom.

"Tell me what to do, and I'm yours." Your chin lowers as you stare at him right in his own piercing eyes, as if trying to challenge him.

His tone is low, and you can hear the amusement still in it when he speaks. He meets your gaze, his eyes glassy with desire, and he pauses for a moment before the corner of his mouth curls up into a wicked smile. He leans even slightly closer as he speaks, and his voice is a purr.

"Make me want you, darling.”

"Already done, Sir." You arrogantly lean back in your seat and take a sip of your drink, looking unamused.

He laughs at the cockiness in your voice, his smile growing. In the corner of your eye you notice a couple of other people have turned to stare at both of you, and you can tell at least one of them is intrigued by the scene unfolding between you two. Your confidence seems to be having that effect on people.

"So you've already caught my attention, then? That's half the battle. Your next move will have to be enough to make me want to keep you."

"Tell me the part you want me to play then, sir. I don't mind a challenge."

He lets out the ghost of a chuckle.

"Tell you what..." He reaches into his suit coat and pulls out a business card, leaning forward as he sets it on the bar between you. His expression is relaxed, his eyes studying you calmly, and his tone is serious as he speaks.

"How about I invite you to my hotel room? That way I can show you exactly how badly I want you."

You swallow at his words, and pick up the card, trading it for the glass in your hand.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

You look back up to him and nod.

"Lead the way, Doctor.”

He smiles at you, his gaze roaming over your face and body again before he nods towards the door. "My room is on the top floor." He stands up from the bar, waiting just long enough for you to get up as well before he begins to walk towards the door and makes his way to the elevator, his movements deliberate and confident.

"I expected no less from a man like you, Sir." You follow behind him like a dog, trying to keep up.

"Then I expect no less from a girl like you." His shoots back and he reaches out as you follow him towards the elevator to give you a wink. His eyes dart up and down you in that subtle way he had, and his eyes linger on your legs for even just a moment too long before he pulls the hotel room key out of his suit pocket and swipes it through the elevator, waiting for the doors to open before he steps inside, holding the door open as he turns to look at you expectantly.

You walk into the elevator silently, and stare up at him longingly as he walks in and presses the top floor, then stands right next to you. The stretch of his arm, his tall back, it was already driving you mad. There's desire running all throughout your body, and you don't know if you could wait the entire ride up to keep your hands off of him. He no doubt would be able to feel the utter desperation radiating off of you.

His eyes never leave you as he presses the button for the top floor, and you can tell that he enjoys the effect he has on you. You can see that it only adds to his allure for you, and the closer you get as the elevator rises, the harder it would be for him to resist if you were to start kissing him right now.

And so he doesn't resist. It's not a second longer until his hands are cradling your head, and your hands are grabbing at his wrists as he pulls you in a fiery, passionate kiss, right in the middle of the elevator. You're taken aback, but that doesn't stop you from trying to kiss him back with the same possessive passion he's pouring into you.

He leans against the elevator wall and pulls you in close with a passion that takes you off guard, the sudden heat of his kiss and the feeling of his hands in your hair taking you by surprise and sending electric shocks through your body. The elevator dings to alert you that you've arrived at his floor, and it takes a moment more before he pulls away from you. His gaze is intense as he looks at you, a low moan rumbling in his throat as he looks at you hungrily.

He licks over his lips once, and swallows.

"You taste like heaven."

It takes you a few seconds to catch your breath and compose yourself after the dizzying kiss, and you breathlessly laugh.

"Just you wait, sir.."

He chuckles, and you can see that the kiss has left him visibly flustered as well. He takes your hand and leads you out of the elevator and to his room. He unlocks it with his key card, but before he opens the door he turns to look at you with a sly smile and raises an eyebrow.

"And just what do you mean by that, darling?"

"It wouldn't be any fun if I just gave the prize away so easily, would it, Sir?" You repeat his previous words back to him, and shoot him a wink. He lets out another low chuckle.

"Well played, dear." He opens the door and steps back to let you go first, and he closes it behind you once you've entered.

You walk in, not before flashing him a playful smirk. As you step in the room, you're immediately met with such a luxurious atmosphere, it almost makes your jaw drop.

The room is luxurious, with plush carpeting and elegant furniture. He gestures to a comfortable-looking chair across from a small coffee table, and as he's letting you take in the room he leans against the wall and crosses one long leg over the other.

"Make yourself comfortable, darling, I'll mix you a drink." His tone is still teasing as he looks at you, and he gives you a quick wink as he turns to the built-in bar to grab the decanter of scotch and two thick glasses.

You nod and try not to let your awe take over your entire mind, you were here for a reason. As you sit down, you turn your body to watch him, and you lick your lips at the sight of him in that suit of his, fixing a drink for the both of you.

Spencer smiles when he sees that you're watching, his tone teasing as he speaks.

"Enjoying the view, are you?" He turns back to the decanter as he pours the whiskey into the two glasses, and he looks at you over his shoulder with a look in his eye that suggests you might enjoy him even more once he takes off the suit jacket and tie.

“Too much, Sir." You bite your lip.

“I can fix that, if you’d like…” He turns around completely to face you. He’s holding the two glasses in his hands now, and he flashes you a knowing look before leaning forward and setting them on the coffee table.

He starts to unbutton his suit jacket, but he doesn’t move to take it off yet. His attention is focused on you, as though he’s waiting for a response before he proceeds.

Your eyes snap to his skillful fingers as they push off the buttons of his suit, and you find yourself looking at him with pleading eyes as you give him a gentle nod.

He smiles at you, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he finishes with the buttons so the suit jacket comes off cleanly and easily. He drapes the jacket over the arm of the other chair, and he flashes you another small, taunting smile before he starts to undo the buttons of his dress shirt.

“Would you like me to take this off as well, or save it for later?” His tone is teasing as he speaks, and you can tell that he’s enjoying this exchange as much as you are.

"Keep it on, sir." You softly command before leaning over and picking up the glass from the table. Your eyes travel up and down his body as you take a sip.

He smiles when you command him, and you can tell he likes the control. He reaches out to grab the other glass, still watching you with soft eyes. His voice is content when he speaks.

"Well then, darling..." He leans forward just enough to place a kiss on the back of your hand, and he looks at you with an expectant smile, his tone tempting as he speaks. "What would you like to do, now that we're alone?"

You subconsciously rub your thighs together, and lightly moan the slight friction it provides to your aching clit. You sigh and smile up at him. "What happened to a challenge, sir? Seems like you're giving it up quite easily for me.."

"We both know you're the prize. So.." He gives you another one of his playful winks, taking a sip of his scotch as the two of you look each other over with a faint smile. His eyes flash down to your legs and he tilts his head to the side, looking over your body again with fervent interest as his expression falls into a dark smirk.

"I think the challenge will be seeing who gives in first."

You set your glass down on the table at his words, then suddenly you're grabbing at his tie and pulling him closer to you, making him stumble a bit.

"Let's see how long you last then, Doctor."

He lets out a soft laugh as you pull him closer to you and he reaches up to place his hands on your hips. His eyes take you in again, and the smirk on his face only grows with every glance. In this moment he's focused entirely on you, and the desire he has for you is palpable, filling the room and growing with each lingering look he gives you.

"Let's see how long you last, darling."

A smirk is all the warning he receives before you're capturing him in a passionate kiss. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his lips on yours again, and you feel his hands reach out to cradle your face.

He leans into the kiss, his hands holding you close to him and his grip slowly tightening throughout the kiss. The passion in his eyes matches your passion, and the feeling of his tongue against yours is intoxicating. For the moment, there is nothing else in the world that matters except the two of you, and as he pulls you closer he lets out a soft moan against your mouth that sends a shiver down your spine in the best way possible.

You feel the cold metal of his ring pressing into your skin, and your expression quickly turns into a scowl at the feeling. It was mocking you, he was yours now. Without pulling away from the kiss, you use one hand and grab his, and pull the band off of the digit, before throwing it off.

He lets out a soft laugh as you take off the ring and throw it, his kiss never falters and he wraps his arms around you as he continues to hold you close.

"Oh, sweetheart..." His tone is playful, and you can see the smile in his eyes grows even more as he holds you close. His lips are still close to yours as he speaks in a low voice, and you can feel the rumble in his tone.

"You're mine now, sir. Forget her." You yank on his tie once more and pull him back in for another intense kiss.

He lets out another soft laugh as you pull him back in for another kiss, one of his hands sliding down to smooth over your ass as the other gently cups your face. He's still very clearly enjoying this, and as he lets out a small groan against your mouth he pulls away just long enough to whisper his next words in your ear while his hands slowly tighten their hold on you.

"What is it that makes you want me so badly, darling?"

Your hands move to the back of his neck as his lips start skimming along your skin, pressing gentle kisses against your neck, and licking over your collarbone. Your eyes flutter shut as you respond.

"Saw you sitting alone.. Thought you were so handsome.." Your mouth drops open in a moan when he nips at the flesh of your throat. "Then, saw the ring... Just made me want you so much more, just knew I could treat you so much better than she does."

He lets out a soft laugh, and you can feel his lips grazing your neck. The feeling is like a live wire, sending shivers down your spine in the best way possible. You moan again, and the sound is enough to send a thrill throughout his entire body.

"Is that so?" As his lips brush your skin you can feel the heat in his breath, and he kisses you again, pulling you even closer now. "Is that all it took for you to be ready to take me home?"

"Worked.. didn't it?" You cockily mutter out, your words accompanied by a moan.

"Oh it definitely worked, darling..." He lets out a soft chuckle, his eyes watching yours flirtatiously, and he makes no attempt to hide the desire he has for you. "So tell me, sweetheart, what is it I get out of this arrangement?"

As he speaks, he moves both of you so he's sitting on the couch, leaning back against the cushion as you're planted in his lap.

"You leave your wife.. come back home with me, and I'll be yours forever..." You reach down to play with the buttons of his dress shirt, slowly pushing them out of their loops.

His eyes watch you as you play with his buttons, and a smug smile spreads across his face.

"You drive a hard bargain, darling..." He laughs once more, taking in the sight of you as the buttons come undone. He has no intention of stopping you as he speaks. "And what will happen if I say no?"

You give him a small faux pout at his words, you know he's not serious, he's already too deep in this that he can't possibly be serious.

"You really want to leave this hotel room tomorrow, go home to your cheating wife, and think about me for the rest of your life? Wishing it were me in your bed at night, the one you wake up to.."

You lean down to his ear as you seductively whisper your next words.

"The one you get to touch, kiss, and taste..?"

He lets out a soft moan as you lean in and whisper in his ear, causing a shiver to run through him as he pulls you even closer to him.

"You're good at this, you know..." His voice is deep and seductive, a playful grin on his face. "I think I'd rather stay with you, darling."

“You’d be stupid not to, Sir..” You lick over his ear, sending tremors through his body at the feeling.

Spencer lets out another soft moan, his body shuddering from the feeling of your tongue on his ear. He leans back and watches you, a mischievous look in his eye as he's trying to see just how far you'll go.

"And what if I was stupid..?" His tone is still unserious, as if testing you, but he's starting to take charge of the situation now, pulling you closer with his arms and pressing you onto his lap as he leans in and gives you his own passionate kiss.

“You wouldn’t be in this hotel room with me on your lap right now if you were stupid, Sir.” Your hands go to lift the bottom of your dress, teasing him. “You know you made the right decision taking me..”

His eyes flash down to the bottom of your dress as you start to tease him, and his eyes flash back up to yours. He whispers his response in your ear, his voice starting to take on some of that familiar authority and intensity as you continue to tease him.

"Then why don't you help me make sure I never have reason to regret my decision, darling?"

Nodding, you take his large hand in yours and run it under the satiny fabric of your dress, allowing him to caress the soft skin of your hips and waist. As his hands touch your body, you go to finish unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.

He lets out a soft moan as his hand touches your hips, moving his hand up and down your body. Your skin feels so silky under his touch, he could touch you forever as long as you let him.

You can see his eyes looking over you, and he's making good use of every ounce of his self-control to keep from taking you here and now.

"You're not making this easy for me, you know... But I suppose I'll let you continue." His voice is soft but there's still the ever-present hint of playfulness, and the hint of authority that he's starting to let bleed into the conversation.

“You want it off, Sir?” You let one of the straps of your dress fall from your shoulder, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

The man bites his lip, letting out a low groan as you start to let your dress fall, and you can see the desire in his eyes is only growing.

"It's killing me, darling..." His tone is heavy with desire, and his expression is full of want. His eyes are glued to you, and you can tell that all he wants in the world at this moment is to have you, right now, right here.

“Take it off of me then, Sir. Earn your prize.” Your voice is low, teasing, and almost cocky. You’ve already taken him from his wife, and now all you wanted was for him to take control over you.

His eyes watch you with intensity as you speak, and he raises one eyebrow in amusement. "Make me work for it, is that it? Well, I don't mind a bit of a challenge..." He bites his lip once more, and he lets out another low moan as he moves his hand to move your dress the rest of the way off your body.

His hands are moving slowly but purposefully, as if taking his time to admire every little piece of skin he revealed. He lets out a low shiver and a soft moan as he takes in the sight of you in your body, his hands trembling at the sight of you. You can almost feel the electricity fill the air between you as you let him admire every inch of you.

His hands are moving slowly but purposefully, as if taking his time to admire every little piece of skin he revealed. You bite your lip at the primal look in his eyes, and lift your arms when the dress reaches your chest. His eyes land on your bra, and the way it looks like it was made for you, filling the cups deliciously and fitting you absolutely perfectly.

"Why don't we make this a little easier for you, sweetheart."

Spencer practically rips the rest of your dress off your body then leans forward to you into a kiss again, pushing you down onto his lap against the firm bulge in his dress pants. He takes in the smell and sensation of you with that look of desire in his eyes that says everything.

You let out a small huff when his eager hands practically rip the dress off of your body, but you lean further into the kiss as you moan into his mouth at the feeling of him under you.

He lets out a soft laugh at your noise of frustration, but the laugh dies in his throat as you moan into his mouth. He holds you there for a moment, his mouth moving eagerly and messily with yours, before he pulls away and pulls you closer by your waist to hold you to him. His heartbeat is pounding out of his chest as he presses your burning hot skin against him.

You can feel the heat in his eyes as he looks you over, his breath growing heavier as he gives you a look of pure, unbridled desire, his mind starting to fill with filthy arousal and lust.

"Now.. I think I'd like to see what's under that bra first.."

He whispers, his tone still full of desire as he looks you over, as though he's trying to memorize every inch of you.

You don't move, just give him a look of bratty defiance.

"If you want it off, you'll have to take it off yourself."

Spencer laughs at your defiance, clearly enjoying your brattiness, and you can feel his chest rumble as he breathes in and out. His eyes start to travel down your body again, and he bites his lip in want.

"So be it, darling."

There’s an edge of authority to his tone that says you may be in trouble if you continue to refuse.

You’re willing to challenge that.

You raise your brow at him and your tone is entirely too sassy towards a man who you know can ruin you and your body in an instant.

"Then get on with it."

You cross your arms over your chest.

He lets out a low chuckle and a sigh at your response, but he doesn't back down. He leans in and speaks in a soft voice, his eyes shining a bit with a light-hearted threat.

"Don't test me, sweetheart.”

His words are playful and his tone is full of desire but you know he's absolutely prepared to follow through on whatever threats he makes. Despite the threat you can see an amused smile on his face as he's watching to see what you do now.

He sighs but you can tell he's enjoying your defiance, his expression going to a smirk as he looks you up and down, watching you with a hungry eye as he drinks you in.

"I suppose this is what I get for letting a brat like you be my mistress..."

He lets out a soft laugh and gives you another taunting flash of his smile, his tone is suggestive once more and his fingers reach around your small frame to find the clasp of your bra. He’s starting to undo the hooks as his other hand begins to move down your body in anticipation for what will come.

“I’m not your mistress.. You don’t belong to her anymore, you’re mine.”

"Oh, is that so, darling?" His voice is full of amusement, and you can see the glint in his eye that says he's more than happy to play along with your bratty game.

"So what does my sweet little girl want from me, then?" His voice is low, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and lust.

“What she wants is for you to hurry up and undress her." He pulls your bra off of you, and throws it over the arm of the couch, his eyes traveling from the bottom of your breasts back up to your eyes as a grin spreads across his face and he leans even closer to you.

"And what's she going to do if I take my sweet, sweet time?" His words are hushed and accompanied by a playful smirk as he raises his eyebrows at you and you can feel the burning desire in his touch as he moves his hand lower and lower.

"Then she would ask very nicely for you to hurry up." You let out a soft laugh and try to not let his touch down your stomach and waist distract you.

He lets out a soft chuckle, his eyes shining with amusement as he moves his hands around your body. He's clearly enjoying the show, and he's in no hurry to take your clothes off, instead taking his sweet time getting there.

"And even if she asks very nicely, what will I get in return? You have to bargain for these things, sweetheart, you know..”

His touch is gentle but insistent, as his hands move closer and closer to the waistline of your underwear.

"I'll give you whatever you want, Sir." Your body trembled with shivers at how light his touch was on you, almost like he wasn't even touching you as he inched closer and closer to your panties.

He lets out a soft chuckle at the answer, his hands continuing to move as they reach the waistline of your panties.

"We'll see about that, darling..."

His voice is playful, but a little part of you feels the threat in his voice, too. He clearly wants you very badly, and it's not entirely out of the realm of possibility that he's not completely joking.

Unexpectedly, Spencer reaches into a cabinet sat next to the couch, and rifles through it for a moment before pulling out scissors. Your eyes widen in confusion and disbelief, and the expression only intensifies when he slots the blades of the scissors between your hip and your panties, and snips. You'd almost swear his eyes are shining a little brighter as he drinks in the sight, being so impatient to take you that he’s cutting your underwear off your body.

“S-Sir..”

You try to reason with him, but it’s far too late. He’s in his own little world as he continues to cut and snip at the delicate lace of your panties, not bothered by your words nor your noises of protest.

There’s nothing you can do but sit there, trembling in his lap as the look of determination and sadism shadows his face. The freezing metal of the blades against your skin do nothing to help your shaking, and it makes the very skin it presses against raise in goosebumps.

Once he’s cut through the lace on both sides of your hips, he sets the scissors down on the table and pulls off the remnants of your underwear with ease. He’s got a sinister glint in his eyes and in his smile as he gathers them in his hand before setting them on the table next to the blades.

“You know, she would’ve never let me do that.. But you..” Spencer laughs wickedly, it almost frightens you. “You.. You’d do anything to make me want you, wouldn’t you?”

You find the bratty attitude you were sporting earlier fizzle into a blazing desire of obedience. Like you weren’t in control of your own body, you nodded. Your lack of speech made him laugh again.

Suddenly, you’re wrapping your legs around his waist as he’s lifting you from the couch and into his arms. You cling to him like you’ve got no other choice, and can’t help but feel exposed in front of the large glass window.

Spencer walks over to the large bed pushed against the wall and throws you down on it, and as you land, your legs are spread, as if on command. He bites his lip at the sight of you spread for him, cunt leaking arousal onto his bed sheets, sticky slick coating your beautiful thighs.

You swallow and watch as he pushes the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his forearms, and runs a hand through his hair before kneeling down in front of you on the bed. He grabs under your thighs and hooks them around the tops of them, flashing that same teasing smile he’s been sporting all night.

You let out a small yelp of surprise when he’s pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, so your pussy was pulsing right in his face, just the way he needed it to be.

“This what you meant when you said ‘Just you wait?’, darling?”

His breath ghosts over your wet cunt, and it makes you let out a small sigh of pleasure. You don’t respond, you know he’s not looking for an answer, he’s just looking for a way to stroke his ego, knowing he’s got you right where you were so reluctant to get to.

“What happened to that smart mouth of yours?”

“Come fuck it and find out.”

Spencer huffs in amusement.

“There you are..”

Is all the warning you get before he’s diving in and burying his scruffy face between your thighs. Your legs threaten to close at the feeling, but he’s already a step ahead of you, holding them down in his strong grip as his tongue licks a long stripe up your cunt, collecting your essence.

A loud moan is pushed out of your throat at the feeling, and your hand instinctively reaches out and down to grab at his messy hair. He only groans at the feeling though..

You’d have to explore that later.

But for now, you couldn’t focus on anything else except the way the thick, wet, muscle of his tongue was swirling around your sensitive clit, sucking and kissing at the nub. He was teasing you, you both knew if he kept this up, you’d be cumming on his face and around his tongue in no time, and you didn’t want that.

You couldn’t embarrass yourself in front of him like that, especially when you know how much shit he’d give you for being able to make you finish that fast.

And still, your head spins with each calculated and tortuous movement his tongue makes over your pussy. He moves down to slide his long tongue into you, finally. You whimper at the feeling and clench around him.

Spencer eats at you like a starved man, and you’ve been pushed to believe that maybe he is. With the way he’s tongue fucking you.. making you gush on his lips and drip down his chin? You can tell he’s needed this for a while.

You lift your head from the bed to look at him, and you can see he’s already staring daggers into you. He shoots you a wink and it almost makes you roll your eyes at his cockiness.

“Why- oh fuck.. Why don’t you fuck me, sir? I know you want to..” You pant out and grip his hair harder, twisting it in your fist. It makes him moan into your cunt, and the vibration makes you gasp.

He pulls back for a moment, and speaks quickly, like he’s been preparing his answer for a while now.

“Because.. If I fuck you now I won’t be pulling out, can’t get you pregnant til’ I leave my wife, darling.”

And you thought you had been the one to be moving fast. Your legs jolt and your pussy clenches at the thought of him fucking his cum into you, pushing it deeper and deeper into your womb until you’re full.

The thought of him fucking a baby into you has you whimpering in a panicked frenzy, you were far too close.

“Fuck fuck fuck, sir.. I’m- I’m right there..”

You moan and are pulling at his hair now, it was no doubt painful, but he couldn’t let you know how much he liked it just yet. At your words, he nods from between your legs and his eyes flutter shut.

The movements of his tongue in your and his lips on your folds increase in speed, intensity, and passion. He’s swallowing every spurt of arousal you have to offer him, and fucks you with his tongue quicker than you can even process.

You reach a hand down to play with your clit, but just as quickly as he was fucking you, he just as quickly pulls away with a scornful expression pulling at his eyebrows.

“W-Why’d you stop…? Please sir..”

Spencer moves your hand from your clit and plants it back into his hair, making you grip at the root tightly as he lowers himself back onto you, and murmurs in a controlling voice.

“Hands off, your body belongs to me, sweetheart.”

And with that, he’s attaching his lips around your aching clit, and begins to suck at it like it’s his job. It makes you throw your head back in a silent moan, the pleasure robbing you of your ability to speak or make noises, and even think.

Your mind goes entirely blank at the feeling of him pulling the sensitive nub between his lips and using that stupid mouth of his to bring you to the edge all too fast.

With a pornographic moan, you’re drenching his mouth and chin in your release, your thighs spasming in a desperate attempt to balance out the surge of pure unfiltered arousal that was forced out of you.

Spencer’s greedily swallowing every gush your cunt pumps into his awaiting mouth, and he just can’t seem to get enough. He’s moaning uncontrollably against your pussy as he drinks in everything you’ll give him, and if you weren’t absolutely losing your mind at your orgasm and spilling moans of your own, you’d be enjoying his noises a lot more.

But now, it seems like your body and your release are the only things on both of your minds. You’re shaking, clenching your thighs around his head as your fist pulls so irresistibly at his brown locks.

You’re the one to push him away, and you can’t help but laugh at the sound of absolute dissatisfaction he produces at being denied any more of your release. And you’d be more than content to let him at it, if you weren’t gasping for air and hopelessly shuddering at the after effects of no doubt the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

He’s suddenly laying by your side and pulling you into a desperate kiss, and you can feel the stickiness of his chin against yours as he eats away at your lips. It makes you pull back to chuckle and attempt to catch your breath again, and after a few beats of silence you look around at where half of your garments are torn and destroyed, and you look at him with a pout.

"You ripped my dress.. And my underwear.."

Spencer laughs and rests his head back against the sheets, and you can see his chest rising and falling, he was quite breathless himself.

"I'll buy you an entire new wardrobe, sweetheart, anything you want.."

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #dom spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #dom spencer reid x reader #dom!spencer #dom!spencer reid

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mumms-the-word · 6 months ago

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A Final Death

Pairing: Gale x gn!Tav Summary: Gale has ascended and has returned to his chronically ill lover in order to ascend them, only to realize that they have died while he was exploring godhood. He departs for the Fugue Plane to find their soul and offer them divinity once more. ao3 link A/N: This is inspired by an angst ask I got in my inbox (hi anon!!) but it got so long that I decided to make it its own post. CW: death

Wait for me. Give me time. Soon, I will return with the means to ascend you, and you will never have to fear dying again.

Those were the last words he had said to Tav before leaving them. The sight of them on the docks watching him bow and back away was burned into his mind, even long after ascension. They were stunning in the light of the rising sun. As beautiful as they had ever been, and more.

And oh so fragile. Brittle. Broken. The condition they had maintained so carefully before being taken by the nautiloid had proven taxing, dangerous, even deadly on the road to Baldur’s Gate. True resurrection should have cured it, but it never did, no matter how many times they sought Withers’ help, resurrecting their broken, dead body with true resurrection spells.

A curse, Tav later told him. The nasty result of a hag deal gone bad. Since then, every injury healed wrong.

The evidence of the curse was staggering. Broken bones that never fused together just right. Bruises that never seemed to fade. Cuts that always seemed only half-healed. A persistent cough that would go away only to be replaced by other pains, other illnesses. A perpetual state of pain, never ending, ever changing, managed only by a careful schedule of potions and healing spells and rest. Some days were worse than others. Some days they felt only the dim pains of a single bruise. But never, not even once, had they admitted to a single pain-free day.

But there was no promise of rest and healing on the road and no end to the fighting. Yet still, they pressed on. Still they fought. Still they endured. Until finally the Netherbrain crashed, defeated, into the Chionthar, and Gale had the means to end their suffering at last within reach. For the first time in months, they could rest.

He hoped the last few months had done them good. That they had found ways to heal and secured the rare, nearly-pain-free day as they waited for him. He had dedicated all of his time in the pursuit of ascension, and then after that, in testing the limits of his godhood. He had to know what he could do, what he was capable of, before he returned. He only had one chance to ascend them. He wanted it to be perfect.

As he materialized outside the Elfsong Tavern room, the one they sometimes shared when he and they longed for a night with just the two of them away from the others, the one his beloved had promised to be in while they waited for him, he wondered what kind of god they would become. Perhaps a god of healing, focusing their efforts on healing spells and potion crafting. Or perhaps they would hate that idea and surprise him. The god of knitting, they might suggest, the most mundane thing possible, or the god of puns, making use of that humor they used nearly every day to cope with the pain. He smiled to himself, remembering their many jokes, as he waved a hand for the door to open on its own.

He stepped inside, dimming his celestial light, only to find the room was quite dark without it. His smile faded as he gazed about the room.

Empty.

No, not empty, he realized, as a figure unfolded themselves from a chair in the far corner. The figure approached, slow and silent, the whisper of their ragged robes the only sound in the room.

“Jergal,” Gale said.

“Well met, young god,” Jergal said. His expression was that same old blank expression, his mouth just shy of a faint smile, and his eyes glimmered in the dark just as they had months ago, back when Gale had been mortal. “Thou come seeking that which is no longer here.”

“I can see that.” He could sense it, too. Though other souls slept, ate, and drank in other rooms beyond this, the only two entities present in that room were himself and the Final Scribe. “Where are they?”

“Gone.”

Gale tried to ignore the flicker of irritation kindling within him. “Yes. I’ve noticed. Gone where?”

“They are where they must be…until they goest where they must go.”

The irritation only grew. Jergal had always been vague, but that was when Gale had been mortal. Now, they ought to speak as gods do, one deity to another. The Final Scribe need not hide divine secrets from the God of Ambition, now that they were equals.

“Fine, if you won’t tell me,” Gale said, “then I shall simply have to find them myself.”

“Thou wilt search these planes for some time, I fear. They are not here. They are…beyond.”

“What do you…”

All at once the meaning came to him. Gone. Beyond.

Dead.

“That…cannot be,” Gale said, refusing to believe it. But Jergal merely stared, silent. Waiting. Waiting for him to accept it.

Again he refused. He cast his senses wide, stretching out his mental presence far beyond the reaches of the Elfsong Tavern, over the whole of the city, and even further beyond, briefly touching hundreds of souls at a time, seeking, searching, hoping to brush against the soul that had once called to his own. The soul that had been his match. He would know it as soon as he found it, so familiar was it to him, though this was the first time he sought it out as a god.

But there was nothing. Though he felt the first embers of pride, the fanned flames of hungry ambition among dozens of souls, he couldn’t feel the one singular soul that he desired.

They were gone. And he knew, even if he searched the entire surface of Toril, that he wouldn’t find them. Not on this plane.

Tav was dead.

He struggled to find his voice “When?”

Jergal’s gaze softened briefly. “Nigh on forty days past.”

“That long?” he asked. “It can’t be, I was only gone for…” But even as he said it, he knew his estimation would be wrong. Jergal looked sympathetic.

“Time runneth differently when one is immortal,” he said. “As thou well know.”

Again Gale struggled to comprehend the news. Not because he misunderstood—he could see the truth as clear as crystal. Tav was dead, their soul having departed from the mortal plane days ago, and he had missed it.

That was the part he couldn’t fully grasp. How had he missed the day, the very moment his own beloved had faded out of this life? Their brilliant life, bright as a star in the sky, snuffed so quickly—again.

He should have felt it. It should have been, to him, the same sort of feeling as losing the light of a single candle’s flame in a vast darkness. Or perhaps a feeling like a chill, a dread, a pit in his stomach. He was divine. He could sense souls in a way he never could as a mortal. He should have felt Tav’s passing.

But he hadn’t. He couldn’t even recall what had been the focus of his attention forty days ago. A single day was like a breath to him. There and gone in a flash. One didn’t count every breath they took in an hour, much less in a day or a week. Had so much—so little time passed without him noticing?

He set aside those concerns for now. “I see,” he said quietly. “That is unfortunate. But it is time to bring them back now, if you would. That is why you’re here, is it not? To resurrect them?”

“No.”

Gale frowned. “No? I don’t understand.”

Jergal was quiet a moment. By the time Gale was certain he would simply refuse to elaborate, he closed his eyes briefly and then reopened them.

“I came to them in their final hour,” he said. “To offer them my services. They greeted me as a friend.”

He paused. Then he lifted a hand to his head and touched his temple. As he drew his hand away, a small orb of light followed after his fingers. A memory, Gale realized, as Jergal sent it floating toward him. Gale cradled it in his hands, letting it sink into his silvered skin, and immediately his vision was flooded with the memory.

He saw Jergal approach the bed in the room, sitting down in a chair at the bedside. For a moment, Gale almost didn’t recognize the figure on the mattress, lying beneath the folded sheets, but as he drew closer there was no denying who it was.

Tav.

He had never seen them look so frail. The months since their victory had wasted them away until they were left looking more dead than alive. Their skin was as thin as paper, their usual tones now cast over with a gray pallor. Dozens of bruises bloomed on their skin, all in varying stages of healing or freshness, and their lips were colorless, their hair thin. He could see their bones sticking out, their skin stretched over them, as though half their muscle and fat had dissolved away. They had the look of a corpse about them, even as they opened their sunken eyes and turned their head toward Jergal.

He wanted to think them beautiful—this was his beloved—but he could only stand, vaguely horrified at the sight of mortality at its worst. There was very little beauty here, only wretchedness. He hated the sight. Not Tav—never Tav—but all the evidence of what the illness had done, the pain, the injuries.

Why had Tav not sought healing?

The sight didn’t seem to alarm Jergal as he sat at their bedside. “I heard thy call,” he said quietly. “What dost thou require?”

Tav turned their eyes toward Jergal and reached one weakened hand toward them, a faint smile on their lips. “Maybe I just wanted to see an old friend one last time.”

“Thou art dying.” It wasn’t a question.

“I know.”

“Then dost thou require my resurrection services?”

“No.”

Gale jolted. No? No?

“He isn’t coming, is he?” Tav whispered, their hand still outstretched toward Jergal, lying inert on the sheets.

“Thou speakest of thy wizard. Thy newborn god.”

Tav’s lips twisted. “He’s not my god.”

Gale stared, his fists clenched at his sides. Shock and pain and anger swirled within him, tangling together in a complicated knot that was all too familiar, all so dreadfully mortal, that he couldn’t help but hate it.

“He’s forgotten me, I think,” Tav whispered.

The knot in his chest stopped swirling all of a sudden, frozen and cold. Forgotten…forgotten?

He wanted to rage. To tear this memory to shreds. To claw his way back in time and make Tav see the truth. Forgotten? Never.

But even he couldn’t alter the fabric of time.

You’re wrong, he wanted to scream. You’re wrong. I’m here. I’m here!

But it was just a memory.

Jergal said nothing at first to their remark, but at last he spoke. “Thou knowest I can give thee more time. Is that why thou hadst called?”

“No.” They breathed in shakily and Gale could hear the rattle of their breath as their lungs struggled to take in the air. “No. I just…didn’t want to be alone. When I died. For the last time.”

The last time.

The words echoed in his head, but he couldn’t stop the memory from playing out.

Jergal nodded slowly. “I see. And so thou didst call me.”

“Yeah. I decided…who better to watch me go than the Final Scribe?”

Jergal chuckled softly. “Ah. Thou hadst found it out.”

Tav’s smile was crooked, a ghost of their old humor. “I followed the clues. You made it kind of obvious.” They moved their hand closer again to Jergal’s. “Will you stay with me?”

“Is this truly what thou wishest? To die, and not return? If I recall, thy wizard hath promised thee eternity.”

Tav swallowed once, twice, silent. When they blinked, the glimmer of tears appeared in their eyes and then was blinked away. “I…don’t think I can wait for that chance, old friend. He’s been gone for months. Silent for months. What if he has forgotten me? And even if he hasn’t, this body…all the pain that just keeps building, I…”

They swallowed again, and this time the tears leaked from their eyes, dripping down the sides of their face. They took another shaky breath, and then couldn’t speak the words. Another rattling breath, and then a faint whisper, choked with tears.

“I don’t think I could start over and endure all this again. I don’t think I’m strong enough to wait for him.”

The words nearly drove Gale to his knees. He had been so close. Only days, mere days separated this memory from his reality. Tav couldn’t endure for a few more days, after yet another resurrection brought them back to life? They couldn't have endured one more cycle of death and rebirth, for him?

Why couldn’t they have waited?

For the first time, he began to understand the pain they kept hidden from him. Even as he understood, at the time, comparing the pain of the orb to Tav’s experience, even as they had bonded over a mutual knowledge of what it meant to be in pain every single day…he’d never realized the depth of their pain.

That it would be so bad that they would wish for death, even when promised eternity.

I don’t think I’m strong enough…

“Oh, my love,” he whispered. “If only you could have endured it, I…”

But the memory didn’t wait.

“It’s stupid,” Tav said, swallowing and finding a bit of strength to speak above a whisper. “I’ve died so many times since the nautiloid. I used to hate it. But I realized a while ago that…waiting there in the Fugue Plane…it was the only place I was free of this pain.”

“Thou were free of thy physical body in death,” Jergal said. “And where the soul doth go, physical pain doth not follow.”

“Exactly. You understand.” Tav took a deep breath, this one less difficult. “I think that’s why I’ve decided…the next time I die…I want to stay there.”

Jergal offered no opinion, he merely tilted his head and watched Tav, his glimmering eyes unblinking.

“So?” they asked. Again they inched their hand closer to Jergal. “Will you stay with me until I go? I know my soul is in safe hands with you.”

“Yes,” Jergal said, and at last he reached out to take Tav’s hand, his withered fingers curling around theirs. “I shall guide thy passing, as in days of old.”

Tav smiled again, their relief relaxing their entire body. “Thank you,” they whispered.

The memory faded as they closed their eyes, the moment of Tav’s passing obscured from Gale’s vision. He tried to cling to the memory, to see the moment of their final breath, but it was gone. Jergal had kept it from him.

He felt…empty. Hollow. For one, terrifying moment he wondered what all this divinity was for. If not to share with his lover, then…what?

But a spark kindled within him again. Was he not the god of ambition? Was he not the god of taking risks for the highest rewards? What was death to a god like him?

“You know where they are,” he said, turning once more to Jergal. “Take me to them. To wherever their soul resides.”

“Thou knowest as well as I that it would be of no use,” Jergal said. “Thy beloved’s soul is beyond thy reach, now. They hath made their decision.”

Gale could feel his anger rising, as it always did these days when someone dared to suggest what he could or couldn’t do. Anything was possible, given enough time and enough power—that was his creed as the god of ambition.

“Fine,” he said, keeping his voice carefully controlled. “Then I will seek them out myself.”

“Go, if thou pleaseth,” Jergal said, watching him turn away. “Perhaps it is best thou see them for thyself. But I will not aid thy search.”

“No matter. I will find them. Even if it takes me aeons.”

So saying, he left the material world, casting his essence through the planes, heading for that ever-shifting realm of the dead.

———

He materialized at last in the Fugue Plane, obscuring his presence and divinity in a fog that matched all the rest as he moved through the vastness of the gray plains, seeking, searching, looking for Tav. He scarcely knew what he would say to them, other than all the questions he wanted answers to. But he had to see them.

Why couldn’t you endure? Why did you think I had forgotten? Why did you stop believing in me? Why didn’t you wait?

Anger and despair fought for dominance in his mind, anger at Tav, anger at himself, despair at losing Tav, despair at his own follies. But something in his divinity kept him from ever really taking the blame. He was a god, after all. He knew better than mortals. It was Tav’s mortal reckoning that was the problem. Their mortal frailty. Their mortal inability to see the scope of eternity beyond their brief lifetime of pain. Perhaps if he had given them more glimpses of divinity, to show them what they had to look forward to…

His train of thought halted as he finally found them standing among the gray. Tav. His love.

They looked as they had in life, when they were at their very best. Healthy, standing straight, their hair full and thick, their skin clean and without blemish. They were stunning. Beautiful.

But gray. All over gray, in the same shades as every other wandering spirit here. Colorless and without vibrancy.

Yet...more solid than the wandering souls around them. Gale paused, remaining in the fog, watching. They stood on the plains, looking around, but not with the dull, aimless look of a soul shambling directionless in this plane. No, they appeared alert and confident, as if they knew themself, as if they had purpose.

After a moment, they seemed to find what they were looking for. They walked over to another soul that was sitting on the ground. The soul’s gaze was lifeless, dim, just the same as every other soul around them. This soul was a shade of their former self, their memories and life already slipping from their grasp. Tav softly called their name and held out their hand.

Kelemvor has sent me, they said, offering the soul a kind smile as the soul looked up slowly at them. I can take you to the City.

…Kelemvor?

Suddenly Gale understood.

Thy beloved’s soul is beyond thy reach.

So that’s what he meant.

Gale had come with two, perhaps three ambitious plans in mind. If he couldn��t convince Tav to be resurrected and then ascended, he had planned to ask them to be resurrected and then become his Chosen. If Tav didn’t agree to either, then Gale was prepared to ask them to join his domain in death. One way or another, he thought, they would be together. As gods, as a god and a Chosen, or as a god and a faithful soul. Together forever.

His divine mind hadn’t conceived of a fourth option. He hadn’t anticipated what was now clearly Tav's new reality, irrevocable and unchangeable. Yet it stood before him, the evidence as obvious as day.

Kelemvor had claimed Tav’s soul before he could. Tav was beyond his control.

Though his anger flared up briefly in response—how dare Kelemvor claim his beloved before Gale had even had a chance to speak with them?—his anger soon cooled as he watched Tav take the hopeless soul by the hand and help them to stand.

Come with me, they said to the soul. I can guide you safely to the city.

Tav had been chosen as one of Kelemvor’s spirit guides, to help guide souls to the City of Judgment, or perhaps even to other gods’ domains, if Kelemvor’s judgment were so inclined to send them there. As Gale watched the two of them disappear into the fog, Tav leading the other soul gently by the hand, all his questions, all his anger, all his despair melted away,

He was left feeling hollow.

His ambitious plan had been thwarted, long before he’d even had a chance to enact it. The defeat should have stung, but instead he felt numb to it.

All that time spent exploring his godhood in order to ascend Tav, wasted. Yes, he had to admit, despite the humility churning his gut with discomfort, he had been too enamored with learning the limits of his power. But he hadn’t been gone long.

They chose this over him…?

He hovered in those gray, shifting plains, a cloud of fog amidst more fog, as he contemplated the matter to himself. Ran a thousand useless scenarios in his mind for how this could have gone differently. Tried to tease out new paths forward, only to be blocked at every turn by the rules of divinity and souls. He didn’t notice how much time had passed, until movement drew his gaze back to his surroundings.

Tav had returned. Only this time, it was clear they weren’t looking for a particular soul. They looked around them slowly before saying, out loud, “I know you’re there. You can come out now.”

They wouldn’t say such things to a soul they had been sent to guide. Which meant only one thing.

They were looking for him.

He hesitated at first but then decided that no more harm could be done. Not to them, anyway. And how much worse could his divine heart break, really?

He dropped his cloak of fog, settling down to stand just a few feet away from them. As soon as he materialized, their eyes were on him. Not shocked or surprised. As if they had been expecting him.

There was, however, a faint hint of nervousness in their face.

They locked eyes in that gray space, the fog swirling around them. A silver-toned deity, glowing with electric blue divinity, and a grayscale spirit guide, their eyes burning with silver light. They watched him silently for a moment, waiting.

Gale opened his mouth to speak, to apologize, to beg, to argue, to weep, but not a sound issued forth. What was there to say? They were out of his reach now. Separated from him for an eternity.

In the end they spoke first.

“Kelemvor said you were looking for me,” they said, in his silence. “I suppose you have questions.”

He had so many questions. But has he watched them stand before him, looking more alert, more confident, more vibrant with energy and vitality than they had been in life, even on their best mortal days, his questions all died on his tongue. All save one.

“Are you…content?”

The question surprised them, he could see it in their face. They nodded. “I am. You’ve probably already guessed what I am, then?”

“One of Kelemvor’s spirit guides. To lead the lost souls wandering this plane to the City of Judgment to await Kelemvor’s judgment of them.”

“Yes.” They hesitated. He could sense the words on their tongue that they wanted to say but were uncertain about. He saw them swallow the words back.

“I have a purpose here,” they said, instead. “There are so many I can help. So many places to travel in this line of work. Sometimes, when Kelemvor decides someone fits a different god’s domain, I even get to visit it with them as I take them there. I’m still trying to figure my way about, but…”

They trailed off, again uncertain. Gale could only smile.

“It suits you,” he said softly.

And it did. In life, they had longed to travel, to see new sights and meet new people. And then when forced to travel, it had brought them nothing but pain. Yet even so they had pushed through, seeking to help everyone they could, even as they themself were hurting, broken by battle and their curse.

He still felt there were better alternatives—could he not have made them a god of new things, of rebirth, of travel, of care for the downtrodden, or more? But they had chosen this instead.

He should have expected nothing less and nothing more.

“Thank you,” they said. Again they hesitated, until finally, in a burst of words, “Gale, I’m sorry. I know you said—”

But Gale held up a hand, stopping them. “No. No need to apologize. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

They frowned. “And yet you must think me the ultimate fool for giving up your offer of godhood for an eternity of playing messenger and guide.”

“What I think doesn’t matter,” he said. “But…no. I could never think you a fool. You simply…chose the path you felt was best for you.”

And now there was no turning back.

They both lapsed into thoughtful silence at that, each of them watching the other. He could feel them studying him, taking in the new glimpses of his divine presence, the silvered skin, the lightning crackling at his temples, the white-blue glowing eyes. Here in the Fugue Plane, the two of them didn’t look that dissimilar, with all the grays and silvers that coated Tav’s body now as well.

He still loved them, he realized. And he would always, he felt, love them. But that love had shifted. He was the god of ambition now, and they were a spirit guide of Kelemvor. Separated in death, yet still part of the same godly realms.

“Gale,” Tav said uncertainly. “I know you’re a new god, and there’s no one, that I know of, who is worshipping you who has died just yet. But when they do…perhaps Kelemvor will be kind enough to let me guide those souls to your domain. Maybe then we could…see each other. Once in a while. From a distance.”

Gale smiled at that. He could just picture Tav arriving at the edge of his domain, leading an ambitious soul to him. “A visit every now and again? I’d like that.”

“It won’t be every time, mind you,” Tav said. “There are a lot of guides. And you’re responsible for picking up your own faithful.”

Gale chuckled. “I am aware.”

“But other souls…ambitious souls who didn’t know you but that might fit your domain…well.” They offered him a little smile. “I’m just saying maybe this isn’t goodbye. It’s just…until we see each other again.”

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Gale would never forget the chance he missed with them, to have them reign as a god at his side. But the hope shining in Tav’s silver-toned eyes was impossible to ignore or destroy. If they were content with this lot, perhaps, in time, he could be too.

“Very well,” he said. “I look forward to your first visit to my domain, then.” He gave them a little bow, a return to some of his mortal mannerisms.

Tav nodded, their smile faint, but as full of love as they had been in life. “Until we see each other again, Gale.”

He returned their smile and gentled his voice, bringing with it all the tenderness and love he still felt for them, and may yet feel for them for an eternity.

“Until then, my love. I will be waiting.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #my fic #yet another angsty gale fic I guess #time to make the night crew sad

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bullet-prooflove · 14 days ago

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Like A Virgin: Terry Silver x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @eddieslut69 @mia1653 @kimbergoldess

Companion piece to:

Attention - Terry hasn't been paying you enough attention.

Distance - Terry and you struggle with emotional distance as the embezzlement case continues.

Postcards From My Heart - Terry discovers what you've been up to abroad.

Twenty Four Hours - You come home from your trip to spend 24 hours with your husband.

Disloyal - Terry runs into an old friend while you're away.

Budapest - Terry surprises you in Budapest.

Terry can taste the wine on your lips. The sweet tang of berries blossoming on his tongue as it dips into your mouth. Your fingers thread through his hair as you arch up against him, your thighs bracketing his hips.

“Why are we doing this on the couch?” He mumbles into the curve of your throat, as his palms rove up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress even higher.

“Because the bed’s too far and I can’t go another minute without you.” You whisper as his fingertips hook the lace of your underwear guiding them down your legs. The fabric is soaked with your essence, evidence of just how much you’ve missed him.

You’re already undoing his belt, tugging at the leather with an eagerness that matches his own. He’d intended to slow it down, make it a seduction but it’s been far too long since he’s had you.

When he sinks into you, you’re tight, so tight that he knows no other man has touched you in your time part. You hug every inch of his cock, a perfect, snug fit. You moan into his mouth at the sensation, your hands grasping the fabric of his shirt, bunching it in your fists.

“It’s like fucking a virgin.” He whispers against your lips.

Sometimes he wishes he met you earlier, that he could have been your first, your only.

He withdraws before sliding home again, burying himself deep as he stokes the fire that simmers underneath the surface of your skin. Every thrust, every stroke, every motion is dedicated to the pursuit of your pleasure. He chases your keens, that sweet little noise you make with every punctuated movement. It rings in his ears as your skin starts to flush and Terry knows he has you right there on the edge of oblivion.

His palm comes to rest on your throat, thumb lightly stroking the underside of your jaw as he pumps into you once, twice until you’re tightening around his cock, his name on your lips.

It’s that sound that tips Terry over the edge, the one he’s craved since you left him sleeping back in LA to board a plane to Europe. You climax together, Terry’s mouth covering yours, drinking down your ecstasy as his hips stutter and he spills his release inside of you.

“Oh Georgia.” He mumbles against your lips. “I’ve been miserable without you.”

“I know my love.” You smile as you tuck a stray strand of hair back behind his ear. “You do a terrible job of hiding it.”

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#terry silver #terry silver x reader #cobra kai

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justiceforanders · 12 days ago

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Water and Wounds

Part of the "Unwritten Chapters" Lucanis x Rook Stories

Pairing: Lucanis x Rook (she/her)

Rating: M

Words: 1.5k

Available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60624907

Summary: Rook and Lucanis take a dip in the fountains of the Dellamorte estate. Things get heated.

Water and Wounds is part 1 of the "Unwritten Chapters", a short series exploring extra romance scenes between Lucanis and Rook, as seen in the Veilguard story sketches by Nick Thornborrow.

Treviso was quieter at night, yet it pulsed with its own rhythm – a symphony of distant laughter, muffled footsteps, and the occasional creak of a gondola against its moorings. Lanterns cast golden light that danced across cobblestone streets slick with rain. The air smelled of water and citrus and stone, a reminder that even beauty here had a sharpness to it.

Rook and Lucanis moved through the shadows like ghosts, their breaths quick, their boots striking an uneven rhythm against the alleys’ worn paths. The heavy tread of the Antaam’s pursuit faded with every turn, until silence swallowed the city once more.

A wrought-iron gate loomed before them, its bars slick and cold under Rook’s hand. When she pushed it open, the sound was softer than she expected; a whisper, not a screech. Together, they slipped inside, their steps faltering as the world opened before them.

The garden was breathtaking. Moonlight spilled over flowering vines that wove themselves around towering trees, their blossoms trembling with dew. Marble fountains stretched wide, their basins shimmering with reflected starlight. Statues of forgotten figures stood sentinel; their serene faces tilted skyward as water cascaded around them. The air was thick with the perfume of jasmine and something faintly sweet – honeysuckle, perhaps. The whole space felt alive, alert, as if the garden had been waiting for them to find it.

“This is…” Rook began, her voice hushed, but she couldn’t finish. The words slipped away, as elusive as the moonlight on the water.

She turned, expecting to find Lucanis marveling alongside her. But his eyes weren’t on the fountains or the statues. They were on her.

The soft moonlight caught the sharp planes of his face, but it was his expression that made her breath hitch. For once, the wry amusement and practiced nonchalance were gone. He looked at her like she was the most delicate and dangerous thing in the garden.

Her cheeks burned, and she quickly turned away, brushing at her hair in a feigned gesture of distraction. “It’s beautiful,” she said lightly, her voice wavering just a little. “The fountains are so big, you could practically swim in them.”

Lucanis tilted his head, his lips curling into a half-smile. “Are you suggesting we try?”

1. 👍: I don’t think the owners would appreciate us turning their fountain into a swimming pool. 2. 🎭: No, I was just marveling at how enormous they are. My entire apartment in Minrathous would’ve fit in one of these! 3. 🛡️: No… The night air is cold enough as it is. 4. ❤️ Express romantic interest in Lucanis. (Does not commit to a romance.): Only if you’re brave enough to go first.

She snorted, folding her arms. “Only if you’re brave enough to go first.”

His smile widened, and before she could take the challenge back, he began to undo his armour, his movements unhurried and deliberate.

“Wait, I didn’t mean…”

His breastplate hit the ground with a dull thud, and his boots soon followed. Rook’s protest turned into a laugh as Lucanis hopped into the fountain, the water lapping at his waist before he sank in with a splash. He surfaced moments later, dark hair plastered to his face, droplets catching on his lashes.

“Are you always this reckless in someone else’s house?” she teased, leaning over the edge and flicking water at him, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably.

Lucanis, standing waist-deep in the fountain, looked every inch the troublemaker – wet hair plastered to his smirking face, droplets clinging to his bronze skin, his sharp features caught in half-shadow. “Technically, this is my house. You happened to break into the Dellamorte estate, of all places,” he said, voice low and amused. “And if I remember correctly, you were the one who dared me to jump in, Rook.”

Rook laughed again. “Your house? Well then, I don’t feel as bad about trespassing.” She grinned, nose scrunching. “I didn’t think you’d actually strip.”

His laugh was soft, almost self-conscious, sending a ripple through the still night air. “Maybe I wanted to see if you’d join me.”

Her heart stuttered at his tone – quiet, but laced with something heavier, more intent. She hesitated, her feet rooted to the edge of the fountain. The air around them felt charged, the playful banter slipping into something else entirely.

1. 👍: As tempting as it is, my schedule’s all booked up for jumping into cold fountains. 2. 🎭: Sorry, better luck next time. I think I’ll stay dry tonight. Someone has to keep an eye out, and I trust your swimming skills more than mine. 3. 🛡️: No, thank you. I prefer to stay on dry land. 4. ❤️ Express romantic interest in Lucanis. (Does not commit to a romance.): Oh, you think I won’t? Just watch me.

“Oh, you think I won’t?” she said, arching a brow, her voice laced with defiance and just enough mischief to match his energy. “Just watch me.”

She didn’t break eye contact as her fingers worked the buckles of her armour, the quiet clinking of metal cutting through the bubbling sound of the fountain. Piece by piece, the layers came off, each one discarded with a deliberate ease that made Lucanis’ teasing grin falter just slightly. When she reached her final layer, her tunic slipping away to reveal the bandeau and tattooed skin beneath, she caught the faintest flicker of something in his eyes – a spark that he quickly masked with a cough and an averted glance.

Without hesitation, Rook stepped into the fountain. The cool water lapped at her legs as she waded deeper, the chill biting but invigorating. When he turned back to face her, she had let her hair fall loose from its tie, curls bouncing and bobbing around her face. “There. Happy?” she teased, lifting her chin defiantly.

Lucanis didn’t answer.

His playful demeanour shifted in an instant, the sharp lines of his grin softening into something unreadable. His body moved before his mind seemed to catch up, his steps slow and measured as he closed the distance between them, the water rippling around him. He stopped just short of her, his gaze flickering across her face in a way that sent heat skimming down her spine.

The playfulness between them wavered, like a delicate thread pulled too tight. She saw it in the way Lucanis hesitated, his fingers twitching as though he wanted to reach for her but didn’t trust himself to.

“You look cold,” he said at last, his voice softer now, carrying something she couldn’t quite name.

“Maybe a little,” she replied, her breath hitching as his hand brushed against her arm.

He tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. The air between them shifted again, the teasing ebbing away like the ripples in the fountain. Then, with deliberate slowness, his hands settled at her waist, drawing her to him. The chill of the fountain had been a shock, but it was nothing compared to the way Lucanis’ touch burned. His hands lingered at her waist, steady and warm, and she caught the way his gaze flickered down to her lips before darting away.

“Lucanis,” she began, but the name came out in a whisper, swallowed by the distance between them.

“Shh,” he murmured. His fingers trailed up her spine, leaving her shivering for entirely different reasons. Her heart thrummed as his fingers brushed against her skin, trailing up to her jaw. She couldn’t read the expression on his face – there was longing there, yes, but also something more, something more akin to fear.

When he leaned closer, she thought he might finally kiss her, and her heart hammered at the thought. Instead, his lips ghosted against the curve of her neck, soft and hesitant, as though he was testing the boundaries of a fragile thread. Rook’s hands found his shoulders, her grip tightening as he pressed closer, lips trailing along her collarbone.

It was maddening – the way he held her so carefully, as though she might break, but kissed her skin like he was the one falling apart. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver through her, and she tightened her grip on his shoulders, half-afraid he might disappear.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, Lucanis stilled. She felt him tense, his hands sliding away as he stepped back, leaving the water between them cold and empty.

“I shouldn’t…” he began, his voice raw.

“Why not?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

His eyes flicked up to hers, dark and filled with something like regret. “Because wanting you is dangerous. For you. For me. For both of us. I can’t give you what you deserve,” he said, his voice breaking on the words. “And I’m selfish enough to want you anyway.”

Her throat tightened, but before she could find the words to respond, Lucanis was already climbing out of the fountain, his silhouette sharp against the moonlight. He paused only to grab his armour before disappearing into the shadows, leaving her alone with the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.

[unwritten chapters: part 1 | part 2 | part 3] & [other lucanis x rook stories]

#dav #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis #lucanis x rook #rook x lucanis

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thecreaturecodex · 2 months ago

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Nascent Demon Lord, Carchanore

[Sponsored by @crazytrain48, from Arduin. Carchanone is one of the Arduin demons with the wildest appearances, but relatively little flavor text. Which inspired me to go off in my own direction, tying into some of my favorite topics in Pathfinder, such as the economy of souls and belief, the qlippoth/demon cold war and the machinations of divinities. The mouths in the claws are borrowed from another Arduin archfiend, Gorog-Nor the Hungry One.]

Carchanore The Death Mole, The Burrower Between CE nascent demon lord of burrows, portals and paranoia Domains Chaos, Earth, Evil, Travel Subdomains Cave, Demon, Fear, Portal Worshipers evil molekin, miners, planar travelers, doomsday preppers Minions katpaskir demons, earth elementals, skymetal reavers Unholy Symbol a molehill with a spiked ball protruding from the top Favored Weapon heavy flail Devotion spend one hour digging. At the end of the hour, while standing inside the hole or tunnel, kill a living creature and consume some or all of it. Gain a +4 racial bonus to saving throws against paralysis and petrifaction. Boons 1st—stone call 2/day; 2nd—stoneskin 2/day; 3rd—plane shift 2/day (as 6th level spell)

Nascent Demon Lord, Carchanore CR 25 CE Outsider (extraplanar) This creature is the size of a wagon, a cross between a mole and a lobster covered in stony armor and spikes. It has eight elephantine legs each ending in sharp claws, and a long tail tipped with a spiked ball. Its arms are long and have crab-like pinchers. It has a circular whirling maw set in its eyeless face, and similar orifices open up in the corners of its claws.

Carchanore is a monster caught between worlds. Once, the Death Mole was a qlippoth lord who lived as a simple predator, albeit of the great wrackworms that crawl between the planes. His gift at digging is such that he can bore through planar boundaries in pursuit of his prey, and his knowledge of earth and stone made him occasionally revered by subterranean humanoids such as molekin or troglodytes. Deskari, Lord of the Locust Host, considered him a nuisance and a possible competitor to the portfolio of portals, and Yamasoth resented their shared domain of Earth. After Deskari was killed in the Material Plane, the severed faith of his remaining worshipers was cast into the multiverse, and the Burrower Between happened to be its recipient. The exposure to faith and sin warped Carchanore into a nascent demon lord. It made him rather more powerful, but also more vulnerable; without a domain to call his own, Carchanore cannot rejuvenate, and now is terrified that either old enemies or new will slay him. So he roams, digging his way from plane to plane and stopping only to rest.

Carchanore is a straightforward combatant. He prefers to fight with his natural weapons than with his earth magic, although he appreciates his newly gained ability to summon demons. Carchanore’s hide is stony hard and covered with sharp spikes, and weak creatures striking him may shred themselves on his spines before he even lays a claw on the. Carchanore is a juggernaut, trampling earthbound foes before grinding them to pieces with his diamond teeth. Carchanore has three mouths—one in the normal place and a secondary one at the joint of each of his crustacean claws—and any creature killed with these weapons is ground into mincemeat. If creatures keep their distance, Carchanore has a nasty surprise—he can fire the spines on his shell like a barrage of ballista bolts. In his previous life as a qlippoth lord, Carchanore gleefully fought to the death, but now he is quick to flee as he has a newly acquired fear of permanent destruction.

Although the bulk of Carchanore’s cult is made up of survivors of Deskari’s minions, not all of them are. The Burrower Between’s survivalist paranoia makes him popular among others who believe that the end is nigh, and some of his followers are converted from Groetus or other apocalyptic religions. After all, multiple apocalyptic events have been narrowly averted on Golarion, so sooner or later one of them is bound to come to its fulfillment. Such followers are noted for their endless digging, creating vast sprawling bunker complexes for themselves and filling them with provisions and traps. "Dig forever" is a common saying among the Burrower Between's worshipers. Amoral wizards interested in planar travel and mass summoning occasionally call on Carchanore to open gates for them, but doing so is fraught with danger, as the Death Mole views them as challenging prey as often as he does as supplicants.

Carchanore in the Great Game In the Age of Monsters plotline, Carchanore has received his demonic nature as an experiment. Pale Night, who straddles the line between qlippoth and demon herself, brokered a deal with a coalition of powerful katpaskir demons to turn the attentions of the fragmented cult of Deskari to a qlippoth lord, and the Burrower Between was the “lucky” recipient. Pale Night is now observing the Death Mole very closely, to see if he can fight his way into the ranks of true demon lords, or if he will die trying. Pale Night is keeping her reasons for this trial secret even from her allies.

Carchanore CR 25 XP 1,640,000 CE Huge outsider (chaos, demon, evil, extraplanar) Init +9; Senses blind, blindsight 120 ft., Perception +44, tremorsense 300 ft. Aura unholy (DC 25)

Defense AC 42, touch 18, touch 34 (-2 size, +9 Dex, +1 dodge, +4 deflection, +20 natural) hp 546(28d10+392); fast healing 10 Fort +27, Ref +31, Will +29 DR 20/good and adamantine; Immune charm and compulsion effects, death effects, electricity, paralysis, petrifaction, poison, visual spells and effects; Resist acid 30, cold 30, fire 30; SR 36 Defensive Abilities shatter weapons, spiny defense

Offense Speed 40 ft., burrow 60 ft. Melee 2 claws +40 (1d8+14 plus grab), bite +40 (2d6+14 plus grind), tail slap +38 (2d6+21) Ranged 8 stalagmite shots +35 (2d8+14) Space 15 ft.; Reach 15 ft. Special Attacks adamant attacks, gatecrasher (7/day), powerful blows (tail slap), rake (2 bites +40, 2d6+14 plus grind), trample (DC 38, 2d8+21) Spell-like Abilities CL 25th, concentration +32 Constant—unholy aura (self only, DC 25) At will—chaos hammer (DC 21), greater teleport (self plus 50 lbs. objects only), spike stones (DC 21), stone shape, stone tell 3/day—flesh to stone (DC 23), transmute mud to rock, transmute rock to mud, wall of stone, word of chaos (DC 24) 1/day—clashing rocks (DC 26), earthquake (DC 25), repel metal or stone, stone to flesh, summon (9th level, CR 20 or less demon)

Statistics Str 38, Dex 29, Con 38, Int 17, Wis 28, Cha 25 Base Atk +28; CMB +44 (+48 grapple); CMD 68 (80 vs trip) Feats Alertness, Combat Reflexes, Critical Focus, Deadly Aim, Dodge, Improved Critical (claw, stalagmite shot), Lightning Reflexes, Multiattack, Point Blank Shot, Power Attack, Precise Shot, Staggering Critical, Stunning Critical Skills Climb +45,Intimidate +38, Knowledge (engineering, geography) +31, Knowledge (planes) +34,Perception +44, Sense Motive +44, Stealth +32, Survival +40 Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Draconic, Terran, Undercommon, telepathy 300 ft. SQ nascent demon lord traits, no breath, sprint, stone stride, thagomizer, tunneler

Ecology Environment underground (the Abyss) Organization unique Treasure none

Special Abilities Adamant Attacks (Ex) Carchanore’s natural weapons count as adamantine for the purposes of ignoring damage reduction and hardness. Gatecrasher (Su) As a standard action, Carchanore can tear a hole in reality between 5 to 20 feet wide in an area within his reach. This functions as a gate spell for the purposes of planar travel except that creatures can travel in either direction through it, and remains open for 1 minute or until Carchanore chooses to close it as another standard action. This can even function in the area of a dimensional lock or similar effect, as long as Carchanore succeeds at a caster level check against the caster level of the spell. Grind (Ex) A creature struck by Carchanore’s bite attack must succeed a DC 38 Fortitude save or take 1d4+1 points of Strength and Constitution drain from having its flesh ground. A creature struck by multiple bites a round does not take additional damage, but suffers a -2 penalty to its saving throw for each additional bite. A creature reduced to 0 Strength or Constitution through this effect is slain and cannot be raised from the dead by any spell or effect that requires an intact body. The save DC is Strength based. Shatter Weapons (Ex) Any manufactured weapon that strikes Carchanore takes 4d6 points of damage. Weapons that take any amount of damage above their hardness gain the broken quality. Spiny Defense (Ex) Any creature striking Carchanore with a melee weapon, unarmed strike, natural weapon or touch attack takes 1d8+14 points of piercing damage. Weapons with the reach property do not endanger their wielders in such a way. Sprint (Ex) Once per hour, Carchanore can move 10 times his speed when making a run or charge action. Stalagmite Shot (Ex) Once every 1d4 rounds, Carchanore can fire off eight of his spines as a standard action. Treat these as ranged attacks with a range of 120 feet and no range increment. Carchanore can fire these at the same or different targets. Creatures struck take 2d8+14 points of piercing damage, Carchanore regrows spines effectively immediately, and never runs out of ammunition. Stone Stride (Su) Carchanore ignores difficult terrain and damage from natural, worked or magically altered earth, mud and stone. Thagomizer (Ex) Carchanore’s tail slap deals bludgeoning and piercing damage. Tunneler (Ex) Carchanore can move through solid rock at half his burrow speed, leaving a 15 foot square tunnel as he moves.

#carchanore #demon #outsider #nascent demon lord #demigod #pathfinder 1e #pathfinder rpg #arduin #sponsored post #age of monsters #the great game

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