#accidental mistress

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - Library Magic (NSFW)

It's that time again! Today's release is a spicy one, and possibly one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy.

(For more Accidental Mistress content, check out the Master Post.)

Please do not reblog to non kink blogs, minors DNI.

Title: Library Magic

Word Count: 3,300

Content and Warnings: snz (male), NSFW

In which Oraion accompanies his Mistress Noelle to study dusty, old arcane tomes at a library, with predictable results.

----------------------------

The Tigate Librarium had stood in the central square of Tigate City for so long, no one was certain anymore if the Librarium was named for the City, or the City for the Librarium. What was certain, however, was that the current Head Librarian, Ms Ogtrop, was both the most efficient and organized Head the Librarium had ever employed, and also its most terrifying.

At six foot three, it was uncommon, though not entirely unheard of, for Demon Lord Oraion Leroux to meet those of his height or slightly taller. Encountering a mortal he needed to crane his neck to look at, though, was about as common as convincing a lindwyrm to play fetch, so the fact that he needed to tilt his head a fair degree to make eye contact with the Head Librarian was a novel, if somewhat unnerving, experience. The green cast of her skin and short tusks jutting from her lower lip only added to the singularity of the encounter. A full-blooded orc was a rare sight these days.

“Those books are on the second floor, Section B, fifth row, third bookcase, shelves four through seven. All books in that Section are restricted, and as such can neither be checked out nor leave the Librarium. Is that clear?”

“As crystal, ma’am.”

“Good. And if you think for a moment that you could possibly get away with smuggling any volumes out… Don’t. I will know. I always know.”

Oraion did his best to appear as a physical manifestation of conciliation. “Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am.”

“Good.” The Librarian paused and took a moment to look Oraion up and down with her golden eyes. “My shift ends at eight o’clock, by the way.”

This, at least, was more familiar territory. Throughout his long life, Oraion had turned down countless hopefuls, though this time he had to admit he was tempted. The thighs that peeked out below the hem of Ogtrop’s skirt—the cut of which was painfully inadequate at fulfilling any sort of intended modesty on her towering frame—looked like they’d crack a watermelon like a walnut. A night with her promised to leave you with bruises and bite marks—and you’d thank her for the privilege. Instead Oraion inclined his head with grace.

“You flatter me, madam, but I am afraid I must decline. I am already spoken for.”

“Hm. Pity. However, your integrity is laudable. Well then, please note that eight o’clock is also when the Librarium closes, so you would do well to conclude your business before then.”

“Of course. Thank you so much for your help.”

“Yes, yes. Now, if you will excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

The imposing Librarian turned on her heel and marched off, her heavy footfalls reverberating through the floor with a rhythmic beat. Oraion’s gaze lingered just a moment on the way her full hips moved, then he returned to where his Mistress, Noelle Violette, waited by the entrance, wringing the end of her scarf.

“Were you able to find anything out?”

“I was indeed. The Head Librarian gave me the location of the arcane tomes you’re looking for—come, I’ll show you where they are.”

He guided Noelle to where Ms Ogtrop had indicated, passing along the rules for the handling of restricted books as they went.

“They can't be checked out? I suppose that makes sense, but��� Augh, that means I'll only have a few hours to study them! I was hoping to take them back to the inn with us tonight and then bring them back before we leave to go home tomorrow…”

Oraion chuckled. “And did this plan of yours involve any sleep?”

A light blush of pink came to Noelle’s fair cheeks. “Well, some I’m sure, but this is a rare opportunity! I could always catch up on sleep later. Besides, that won’t matter if I can’t check them out. I’ll just have to use the time I do have wisely.”

Row after row of shelves were stuffed with a multitude of tomes. The air was laced with the scent of old paper and leather. Once they located the desired shelves, Noelle browsed through the volumes, pointing out a number of titles with great interest and enthusiasm.

“Oh! Look at this! They have a first edition copy of Nolan Kingston’s The Grimoire of Stars! And these scrolls—they’re from Tsothatan’s Noth-Yngath Esoterica! Just look at all of these: Artum Codex, Librum of Ninai, The Book of Far Realms— Oh my goodness, they have a copy of Tome of the Watcher! After it was published, the author Soth Sholei disappeared, and no one ever found out what happened to them!”

As she babbled excitedly about the texts, she handed book after book to Oraion until he was carrying a sizable, and somewhat heavy, stack. He couldn’t help but notice a thin layer of dust on most of them. Just the thought of it made his nose twitch. A smirk tugged his lips: perhaps this little study session wouldn’t be as boring as he’d feared.

“Mistress, I think perhaps this is enough to get started, at least. In fact, I’m not convinced you’ll be able to get through all of these before the Librarium closes.”

Noelle gave a little start, like she was waking up from a dream. “Oh! You’re right, I-I’m so sorry. Let’s find somewhere to sit down.”

Nearby were long, oaken tables surrounded by a large number of stout chairs with plush seats, all of which were presently vacant. The entire section of the Librarium they were in appeared quite deserted. Oraion carefully placed the stack of books on the table and took a seat next to Noelle, pulling his chair against hers. There were no arm rests, so they were close enough to touch, especially if Oraion leaned in.

“I hope you don’t mind if I read a bit over your shoulder? There might be something I can help with, after all.”

“Oh, um, a-all right.”

He ducked his head so his lips were close to her ear and dropped his voice.

“Always nice to have one’s nose in a good book.” He brushed the tip of his nose against the outer edge of her ear for emphasis. He felt a shiver run through her.

“Oraion, I-I don’t think now is the time…”

“Oh, of course, Mistress. My apologies. I wouldn’t want to disrupt your studies. Shall we begin?”

He took the tome from the top of the stack and placed it on the table in front of them.

“The Book of Sorcery. A fairly straightforward title.”

He flipped open the dusty manuscript with a flourish and probably a bit more force than was strictly necessary. In the light of the arcane reading lamps that hovered above the table, little globes of light encased within intricate brass cages, he caught a shimmer of swirling dust particles. Things were bound to get interesting now.

“So, Mistress, what would you like to review?”

“Hm, let me check the table of contents.”

As his Mistress pored over the book’s pages, Oraion felt a feathery flutter ripple through his sinuses, making his nose scrunch slightly. He said nothing, of course, but kept an eye on Noelle’s reaction. She hadn’t noticed yet, so he ran a finger beneath his septum and drew in a quick, sharp sniffle. Noelle’s leg against his own went tense for a second—she was definitely paying attention now. Oraion tried not to let his satisfaction show on his countenance.

“Um, m-maybe this section on conjuration? I would really, uh, like to know more about how you’re able to conjure things, you know, so easily.”

“Ah, you mean like this?” With a grin he held up his left hand and snapped his fingers, summoning his handkerchief. After all, he was going to need it shortly.

“Y-yes, like that.” Oraion noticed that Noelle’s gaze flicked from the cloth in his hand to his face, and back. He had a feeling he knew exactly what she was looking for in his face. As that feathery feeling intensified, he was certain his nose would be flushing pink soon, if it hadn’t started already.

“Well, the truth is -snf- that I don’t actually, ah, c-conjure anything. -sniff- I merely summoned it. I—” It was growing difficult to keep his breathing steady, and his eyes were beginning to water as his eyelids fluttered. Still, he could quite clearly see the pretty blush forming beneath Noelle’s freckles on her cheeks, along with the blossoming arousal he sensed within her. She squirmed in her seat.

“O-Oraion…”

“Oh dear, h-how terribly inconvenient. -sndf- These old b-books: they muh-must be du- heh- dusty…”

Below the table, he ran his right hand up her leg, squeezing her thigh while at the same time he pressed the handkerchief to his nose.

“ih-hiih- … hiihh! hiiHH’ISSHIUU!”

Through his hand on her leg he could feel the little jolt of pleasure and excitement she felt. He didn’t often get the chance to tease her in public like this. It made her titillation all the sweeter, the tinge of embarrassment she felt. She might not openly admit it, might even outright deny it or grow annoyed with him, but she could not hide from him that it got her even hotter.

“Oraion! S-stop that!”

“Y-you know I can’t heh-help it, Mistress. It’s the- the- eh-heh-heh! mmnh- the dust- HEHHSHIU!”

Noelle looked around nervously.

“B-but, you’re being loud! We’re in a library!”

He leaned in and nuzzled her earlobe, even as he felt another buzzing prickle building.

“Afraid we might gehehht in t-trouble? -snnff- hehh-hehhehh!”

“Y-yes!”

Oh, but she tasted so sweet like this. Gods, he would fuck her right here on the table if she wanted, library rules and propriety be damned. She would never go for that, of course, but that didn’t stop him from imagining it. Just how wound up could he get her, he wondered? He attempted the herculean task of holding back the itch that burned in his sinuses.

“B-but Mistress, you know heh-HEH! nngh- h-how teh-terribly ah-haahhllergic I am to du-dust. I ca-can’t hehhehhelp how sne- sne- sneezy it meh-makes me…”

He kept his nose touching her ear as his nares flared, letting her feel every twitch. As he did so, he slid his hand further up her thigh, pressing his fingers between her legs. He couldn’t last much longer, and if he had anything to say about it, neither would she.

“Th-the m-more I heh-heh! hold bahaahck, the w-worse it g-gets!” He gave a particularly wet sniffle right next to her ear. “Oh no- I-I’m guh- gonna- ehh-heh! M-Mistress, I n-need to sneeze!”

Certain he was about to incur the wrath of Ms Ogtrop, Oraion could not stop his chest from heaving as his nose crinkled.

“hiihhhIIHHhhh!”

With a little sound of desperation Noelle leapt up and grabbed his head, shoving his face directly into her chest and holding him there by hugging him with both arms. The fabric of her blouse pressed against his face, with his nose squeezed directly between her soft breasts. His hands found her hips, and he grabbed hold as the tickle overtook him.

“hhhchhfff! hh-isshhh! nnn… hhih- hii-hhssshhiuh! aeshhiu! … eh! … heh! … hehh-CHSSHT! CHSSHT! HISSHHHTT!”

What would have normally been a powerful and vocal fit was instead muffled and subdued as Noelle wrestled it into submission with the luscious mounds of her chest. Once Oraion’s sneezing subsided, she relented and loosened her death grip on his head, allowing him to at last come up for air. He looked up at her standing over him as he sat back, sniffling wetly. Her entire face was flushed a lovely bright scarlet—a color he was perhaps a bit partial to. His gaze dropped back to her blouse, where he found he’d made a rather wet spot between her breasts. He summoned an apologetic look as his gaze rose back to meet hers.

“I’m sorry, Mistress, but I… I couldn’t help it.”

To be fair, the books truly were dusty. It would have gotten to him at some point anyhow, so why not help it along and get it over with? Still, Oraion supposed he had earned the scolding he was no doubt about to receive.

It took him rather by surprise, then, when Noelle instead grabbed his chin and forced her tongue into his mouth. He was quick to adapt, of course, sucking on her tongue and chasing it with his own when she pulled it back. His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her towards him until she was straddling his lap. She draped her arms over his shoulders and around his neck as she continued to kiss him hungrily, sucking on and biting his lips and tongue. The lust that burned within her intoxicated him and stoked his Hunger.

He supported her back with one hand while the other loosened the catch of her leather leggings and slipped inside. She was warm and wet and waiting for his touch, and she moaned into his mouth as he pushed two fingers inside her. The feel of her became his entirety: the way she enfolded his fingers, the slick sweetness of her tongue in his mouth, the building pleasure that flowed into him more and more.

Noelle brushed the tip of his nose with her own, sending a ticklish wave through his sinuses.

“C-careful -snf- it’s still pretty sensitive…”

“Oh dear,” she murmured as she nuzzled him again, “how terribly inconvenient.”

Even as his breath caught she kissed him. The buzzing prickle spread, making it hard to concentrate, but his fingers did not stop their rhythmic stroking.

“M-Mistress, I… I n-need to- heh-HEH!”

It wouldn’t take much to send either of them over the edge. Oraion could hardly keep his eyes open, and he felt more than saw Noelle’s fingertip gently tease his irritated nares.

“W-wait- Y-you’re guh-gonna m-make me- ih-hihh-HIHH!”

Her hand still behind his neck twined into his hair and shoved his face down into her cleavage.

“hiihh-CHHWFF!”

Once more his sneeze was muffled by the supple flesh of her breasts, and in that moment her pleasure poured into him like a river breaking through a dam. It washed over him in waves, and he let himself drown in it as her hips bucked over his lap. Her pleasure became his own, no telling where one ended and the other began. Each held onto the other for dear life, Noelle clutching Oraion to her chest as he hugged her to himself with his arm around her back.

As they both came down from their shared euphoria, Oraion realized he was biting Noelle’s breast through her shirt. He did not remember making the conscious decision to do so, but she didn't seem to mind. He let go and looked up at her. She was taking her hand out of her mouth—she had bitten the side of a forefinger to keep herself quiet in the stillness of the Librarium.

He kept his eyes on her face as he slowly pulled out of her. The sweet expression she made and the little sigh that escaped her were the perfect dessert to his delicious meal. She opened her soft brown eyes, her cheeks still flushed and rosy, and she leaned in to kiss him once more. He nipped at her lower lip with a sly grin.

“Still afraid we're going to get in trouble?”

“Yes, but now I care less.”

Her lips touched his even as she giggled, a sound that twisted her ever deeper into his heart. Falling for her was a terrible idea, he knew that, but moments like this, the happiness she gave him, made him powerless to resist her gravity. No one made him feel this way, not since his first love, so long past that it may as well have been in another world entirely.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching broke them from the hold of the afterglow, and Noelle hurried back into her own seat as she adjusted her clothing. She flipped open the pages of the book and leaned over them like she’d been studying them all along, though her face was still quite red. Oraion found his handkerchief had fallen on the floor at some point, and he quickly scooped it up and wiped off his fingers.

The hulking form of the Head Librarian strode into view, carrying a library cart in her hands. Oraion imagined her leaning over to push it normally, and he got a pretty good idea of why she preferred to carry it. She placed the cart down and filed away a few volumes on a nearby shelf. Oraion heard Noelle breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

"Everything all right over here? I thought I heard some sort of commotion, and you’re looking rather flushed, Miss."

“U-um.” Noelle’s voice came out in a terrified squeak, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

Thinking quickly, Oraion lifted his handkerchief to his nose as though he were wiping it, but instead he gave his nostrils a quick tease.

“S-sorry, it’s my fault, I- I- hih- ih-hihh! HIIHTCHHiuh!” He managed to muffle the sneeze by pressing the cloth firmly over his nose, which he hoped was a reasonable facsimile of how it had sounded into Noelle’s shirt. “Nguh -snnff- Sorry, my a-allergies are acting up, and- heh! heh-CHHFF! -snf- I’m afraid I’ve rather embarrassed her with the noise. -sdnf- This is a library, after all.”

The orcish librarian narrowed her eyes. “Hmph. Just keep it down, and do not disturb the other patrons, please.”

“I-I’ll do my best, ma’am… hhihghshh!”

Appearing satisfied, Ogtrop picked up her cart and moved on. Once the sound of her footsteps had faded, Oraion couldn’t help but laugh, smothering the sound behind a hand. Noelle playfully smacked his arm.

“I don’t see what’s so funny! We could have gotten into so much trouble!”

Though her words chastised him, a thread of laughter wove through her voice as well.

“You’re the one who jumped me!”

“Oh, and you didn’t stir up all that dust on purpose?”

“You know it would have happened sooner or later! Now, do you want to keep bickering and draw Ms Ogtrop’s attention again, or do you actually want to study these arcane tomes?”

“Fine, but this is not over!” She went back to the table of contents and found the page she had initially wanted to review. “Now, I believe we were going to talk about the use of conjuration before we were, ahem, interrupted. Weren’t you saying that you don’t actually use conjuration?”

Oraion grinned and placed his arm across the back of Noelle’s chair as they both leaned over the text. “Yes, that’s right. You see, conjuration is the art of creating something from nothing. Were that true, then the handkerchief wouldn’t exist before it appeared in my hand. I would literally be creating it from magic. What I do is a form of summoning…”

While Oraion continued his explanation, Ms Gwendolyn Ogtrop, Head Librarian of the Tigate Librarium, continued her work of filing away the book returns in Section D. She heaved a sigh and tried not to let her envy weigh too heavily on her mind. Men of that caliber were rare enough, but the fact that this one had adorable sneezes too? That human girl didn’t know what a treasure she had. Although, with how red her face was, perhaps she did…

Ogtrop tried to push it from her mind as she tucked another book away. Someday the perfect man for her would walk through that Librarium door. She would whisk him off his feet and into a whirlwind romance, instead of just another link in a lengthy chain of one night stands. Someday happily ever after would happen for her, too.

At least, she could hope.

[sadlynotthevoid]

Crack idea here: LCF modern AU with magic where og!Cale accidentally gains a swordmaster aura after way too many hours of playing beat saber.

Cale: *intensely playing the same game for 74th time this (new) year*

Cale's body: *starts exuding glowing mist*

Cale:

Hans, who just opened the door: Excuse me, young mas— Hhh...

Hans: Madam Violan!!!

[ratatatastic]

you know i didnt think i needed stolie benny and matthew with their arms all over each other singing and swaying along to music as they sip on beers but shame on me i shouldve known i needed it

WPLG Local 10 | 6.25.24 (x)

[yewphoric]

Trick or treat!!!!

Why hello traveler! Take a seat, the potion will be ready in just a moment!

Some Giant Lichen, one Skeever Tail...

Oh no! A poison of ravage health! I'm so sorry traveler, I must have mixed up the ingredients! I hope that didn't hurt too badly...

[gratuiciel]

not written with the same characters but

"kisaki" is homonymous with the japanese word for queen/empress (more specifically: the king/emperor's wife) and idk i feel like there's something to be done with that

[bosimba]

*twirls hair coyly*

[witchofthesouls]

Oh man, I keep thinking about language barriers between Cybertron and the Lost Colonies.

Now I got two separate ideas:

1) War bride with a twist where it's Megatron, the Decepticon Warlord, the Great Slagmaker, gets stolen and hitched since he accidentally enacted a marriage to a potential Mistress of Flame.

Double points if it's a time where he was stuck as a gun, and the Adepti has a kink or significantly used him in combat for X amount of time. Perhaps used his bladed extensions in rituals for another layer of binding themes and forge/forger symbolism.

2) Tarn and Camien Nurse with a Quintesson experiment. Since modern Cybertron doesn't have femmes or newsparks, they only have really ancient writings about the concept, and that's why Phase Seven is considered a legend as Decepticon High Command is still trying to figure out how to expand the population, like every other scientist and politician since the occupation. It has something to do with sparks, though...

The Quintessons, on the other hand, are very well educated on Cybertronian biological processes and mechanisms, so-

Local virgin leader of a roving torture and execution squad develops another addiction because the Quintessons wanted to ensure a healthy clutch in a Seekerkin carrier, aka they not only modified Tarn's hardware but messed his brain module to continuously seek out pleasure in a carrier.

Now, Tarn is stuck with a foreign mecha whose only line of communication is a dialect of Primal Vernacular that Vos is able to understand. Most of the time. At least, the D.J.D. have a medical professional now.

(And newsparks that haven't been seen for an indefinite amount of tim, but that's several crates of Nuke for later.)

[iguessitsjustme]

So you're telling me

that this man was able to pull these three ladies

at the same time and marry two of them and keep the other as a mistress?

That man? I've seen dirty socks on the sidewalk with more sex appeal.

[arihi]

prompt: patchwork

hope the writing is enjoyable!

It was a rare day off for Heather. Her job, and... particular hobbies didn't leave a lot of free time to just be, or to work on other personal projects. Though, she was hoping to fix that soon - work wasn't the pressing priority it used to be lately, and she was already looking forward to the extra time in her day.

It was a good thing she'd focused on outsourcing working and income to others. As if on command, her phone beeped three times in a row. Status reports -- checking out of work, and checking in with their Mistress. Such sweet little dolls.

That meant it was already 5 PM. Where had the day gone? Heather knew the answer. A figure knelt in front of her, eyes blank and unseeing. She stroked its cheek with a tenderness not often shown around others. She couldn't help but think about how blissful the world was through its eyes. No sense of time, or obligations, simply existing.

Though, she thought wistfully, she had no right to envy anything about its current state. It was her fault, after all.

Light footsteps made themselves known from the doorway. "Mistress, it's--"

Heather lifted her head without turning towards the voice. "I know the time. How's dinner preparations?"

"On schedule, Mistress."

"Good. I'll be down shortly."

No further questions or reports meant the conversation was over. She focused her attention back on the thrall kneeling by her legs, and the small grasp the fingers had on her shirt.

She knelt down beside it, her eyes widened. "Yes? Were you asking for me?"

Silence.

"Smile for me."

It smiled.

"Look into my eyes."

It did.

"Speak for me."

Silence.

Heather smiled softly. Of course. She needed to temper her expectations more.

Early on, much earlier on - her very first, in fact - she'd been reckless and power hungry, thought herself to be infallible. She pushed too hard, went too far. The human brain was only so flexible. It was natural for it to break eventually.

She was much stronger now, and much more in control. It'd be impossible for her to make a similar mistake these days. But for however easy it was to shatter a person's psyche, it was infinitely more difficult to put it back together.

She was a wreck, back then. Vowed never to do it again, until things got tight, and she was so busy trying to undo an irreversible error, and eventually it was easier to just have a little outside help. A little, then some, then a lot more. Comforts made life easier. A means to an end.

The guilt had long since faded. Somewhere along the line of enslaving so many others, she couldn't continue to be hung up on her very first, could she? It was more an intellectual curiosity than anything these days. She'd made progress, little by little, adding in small triggers and programming in its brain, adding and removing certain attempts, seeing which didn't work together and which worked best. Little pieces of programming fabric sewn together into a quilt of human behaviors. It could move, now. Listen to direct commands. That was the extent, so far.

But, still. She'd never call it a soft spot, but it still had its own room in the manor. Several dolls whose main priority was to feed and bathe it. And every day, no matter how brief, Heather would visit.

Soon, she hoped to be able to spend more time in a day by its side.

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - Good Things (NSFW)

Hahahaha it's done. I had this idea last night when I remembered something I wanted to do with the story but had completely forgotten to write about. So, here's a sexy sickfic for y'all to enjoy. I just finished writing it, so it may be a little rough in parts, but I couldn't wait to post it :3

(For more Accidental Mistress content, check out the Master Post.)

Please do not reblog to non kink blogs, minors DNI.

Title: Good Things

Word count: 2,755

Content and warnings: snz (male and female), illness, NSFW

In which a sleepless night gives way to an important milestone in Noelle and Oraion's relationship.

--------------------

Noelle tried to hold her breath and avoid coughing again. Her ribs felt like someone had taken to them with a sledgehammer, and every cough made her wince and whine. She felt pathetic. Not only that, but she didn’t want to wake Oraion, asleep next to her in the bed. The past few nights since she’d been attacked on the road, the demon had slept by her side. It was nice. His warmth, the brush of his skin against her own, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing: his mere presence brought her more comfort than any medicine, even Quinns’s elixirs from the Knights’ own healers.

Exhaustion gnawed her bones, but still she couldn’t sleep. She was at once boiling hot and freezing cold, tossing and turning as she alternately burrowed into her blankets and threw them off again. Her throat prickled, begging her for relief, but still she clamped down on the urge to cough. It wouldn’t help to give in, not really, so she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and waited the tortuous seconds for it to pass.

Even worse, her throat wasn’t the only thing that was irritated. Her sinuses were absolutely full of this cursed cold. She was sure she had sneezed more in the past few days than in the entire year since she’d summoned Oraion, and she was so congested she could hardly breathe. Quick on the heels of the tickle in her throat came one through her nose, and she pressed both hands to her face in an effort to quell it.

“hh-hihh-ngxt!”

A stifle was all she could manage, sending a dull ache through her abused ribs. She was so tired. Why couldn’t she just sleep through all this misery?

As she rolled over, a little spark of shame said she very well knew the answer. The unpredictable, featherish fluttering in her sinuses, her struggling attempts to hold back her sneezing, the need to be quiet so as not to wake Oraion—gods, it all got her so damned turned on.

“nnchgt! hng’cht! gshchiew! Ishhiew! Ow…”

Shit. The relentless itch broke through her effort to stifle it, lighting her chest with far sharper pain, yet even so the heat between her legs pulsed with intensity. Behind her, she sensed Oraion stirring.

“Mmm… Mistress?” His voice was muzzy with sleep.

“S-sorry. -snfft- I, um…”

As Noelle fumbled in the dark for something to wipe her nose, she felt his chest press against her back as his hand alighted near her shoulder and traced down her side. Her back arched slightly as his lips found her neck. Perhaps she should have been more concerned about her arousal waking the sleeping incubus, she reflected, rather than any noise.

“Mistress…” Now his voice was a purr in her ear. “You smell so good. I… I, uh… O-oh dear- hih-HEH-HIHHTCHIU! EH-GISHIU! HISSHIU! G-gods- HITCHOO!”

He misted her neck and shoulder with spray as a sudden sneeze fit seized him. He was prone to sneezing when he woke, yet this was particularly intense. Noelle bit her lip as a moan threatened to make her cough again. She could feel his every spasm and hitching breath through his body pressed close to her back. Once his fit subsided, he sniffled and rubbed his nose with a little squelching sound.

“Nnhh… s-so itchy… -snf-”

Noelle turned over to face him as a burning need started to claw inside her, but that damnable cough finally stole its victory, wracking her body with painful spasms. A completely different kind of moan came from her then: a pitiful, whimpering thing. In the darkness, Oraion held her close to him, enfolding her in his sheltering embrace.

“Oh, my poor Mistress. You’re still so ill… yet, you burn bright with such delicious desire.” Conflict was plain in his voice, as though he were at war with himself. “I don’t know how to help you. I know so little about human illness that I’m afraid I’ll hurt you somehow. Please, tell me what I should do, Mistress…”

Noelle licked her dry lips, her voice hoarse. “I want… I want you…”

She was burning all right, with lust and fever both. Trembling, she leaned forward to seek out his lips in the dark. Instead, the first thing she encountered was Oraion’s nose, which she bumped with her own. Almost instantly, he gasped in a shaky breath.

“Ah, c-careful! Hih-HIHGHSHIU!”

He turned his head into the pillows at the last second, so as not to accidentally headbutt her, she imagined, given his ramlike horns. His arms tightened around her with the paroxysm, clutching her against his heaving chest. In turn, Noelle clung to him even tighter, fingertips digging slightly into his smooth skin.

“Mmmh… I do love how sensitive your nose is.”

“-snff- All for you, my Mistress.”

“Makes me want- w-want you even more- ishtchiew!”

His breathing grew heavier, but she could tell it wasn’t for a sneeze this time. The demon’s last feeding had been some days ago, and no doubt she had stoked his Hunger with her arousal and provocative words.

“I will gladly pleasure you, if that’s what you desire…” Oraion hesitated for a moment. “Are you sure you’d be alright?”

“I don’t have much energy, but… Ugh, I can’t stand it! Maybe I’m delirious, but I think I might lose my mind if I don’t sate this- this craving. I-I need this, please. I need you.”

Any further words she might have had were sealed by his lips. He pressed them tight to hers, his hands beginning to roam her body as he slipped them beneath her nightgown. The incubus was no less amorous than usual, but Noelle could also sense an especial care in his touch. His movements were slower, more sensual. In his more impassioned moments, he might pull her across the bed, but now he handled her as gently as if she were a porcelain doll. Perhaps he still feared he’d hurt her.

With a gesture and an infusion of her will, Noelle called on the lamp at her bedside to cast a soft glow into the room. Oraion’s face came into view as her eyes adjusted, close enough that she could clearly see the lovely flush of pink across his nose, even without her glasses.

“There you are,” she whispered, the corner of her mouth curling into a smile, and for a moment she was almost certain his cheeks flushed, too.

Then the sly, roguish grin that suited him so well broke across his face, and he moved his hands to the front of her nightgown with a flirtatious tug at the fabric.

“Some light to see by, hm? That should make handling these buttons easier.”

Despite his words, he needn’t look at all as he swiftly unfasted the buttons, choosing instead to shower her neck with lingering kisses. They both sat up as Noelle shrugged out of the garment, Oraion resting his large hands gently on her shoulders as he pulled her into a soft kiss on the lips. Then she took hold of his arms and leaned back, guiding him down with her. The demon obediently followed until he was perched over her in the bed, cupping her breast with one hand as he kept on kissing her and tracing her lips with his tongue.

Between kisses Oraion sniffled, his breath stuttering with a few soft hitches. When they touched, his nose twitched against her own, until he suddenly pulled back with a gasp, nostrils flaring.

“hhHIHPTSHIEW!”

The outburst hit her across the chest, drawing a sound from Noelle that, in her fever-exhausted state, came out more as a needy whine than a lustful moan. Oraion’s hand trailed from her breast down her belly, coming to rest between her legs, stroking her through her undergarments. For a moment, Noelle thought she might orgasm right then and there, but she didn’t want it to end yet. As she barely managed to contain her pleasure, a shudder ran through Oraion’s body.

“Ooh my… seems we’re both a bit sensitive tonight, eh Mistress?”

“Mmm, it’s not my fault,” she pouted, hips squirming, “It’s this damnable cold that has my nose all itchy… I can’t help that it gets me hot…”

He took her lips with his own again, a suitably devilish grin lighting up his face.

“So then, how might this humble Servant slake your burning thirst, my Mistress? Shall I please you with this silver tongue of mine? Ah, I’m certain a bit of true silver would thoroughly do me in with how terribly ticklish my nose is right now. Would you like that?” He paused to lean in and nuzzle her neck, just below the ear, teasing them both until he stifled a sneeze into her shoulder. “Or, -snf- perhaps I should keep my hand right where it is—minus the clothes, of course. All the better to keep my nose where you can best play with it, hm? Whatever you desire, Mistress, you need only name it and I shall obey…”

He was ever suave and confident in these moments of carnal passion. What flashed into Noelle’s mind, however, was not the various moments of erotic pleasure they had shared, but the small, sad smile he had worn as he bathed her and cleansed her wounds only a few nights ago. And the way he’d blushed so deeply the first time he saw her own sneeze. The worry in his eyes when he’d pulled her from the rubble after accidentally bringing part of the tower down around them. His infectious laughter when they’d nearly gotten caught doing something incredibly naughty by the Head Librarian at Tigate Librarium. And countless other moments, large and small, notable and mundane, that had passed between them over the course of the year they had spent together.

She had yet to remove the crystal pendant he’d fastened around her neck the other night on the anniversary of their meeting, a near perfect match to his crimson eyes and hair. It lay on her chest even now, dimly sparkling in the low lamplight.

“... you.”

He kept kissing her neck. “Sorry, darling, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“You… You’re my Servant.”

“As I live and breathe, my dear Mistress.”

“Then… You’re mine. I- I want… I want all of you.”

Oraion froze, body going tense against hers. He drew back with a start, searching her face with widened eyes.

“You do?”

All that confidence and charm fell away. Noelle reached up to cup his cheek with a soft smile and nodded. These moments of genuine emotion suited him, too, she thought.

“Mm-hmm… I-I’m ready.”

He blinked slowly, like he was still unable to process her request. She would have laughed if she didn’t think it would make her start coughing again. The longer he took to respond, however, the hotter Noelle’s face became, and this time it wasn’t fever.

“Do- do you, um, n-not want to right now?”

Without a word he took her up in his arms, lifting her up as he hugged her fiercely to his chest.

“I… Yes, of course I will share myself with you, Noelle. All of me. I am yours.”

Then she could no longer get a word in edgewise for his lips upon hers, stopping only to allow her breath with how stuffed up she still was. Before she knew it their remaining clothes were gone. Had Oraion made them vanish with magic? Or was it the combined haze of passion and fever that caused her not to notice? The question faded from her mind, unimportant, because all of her attention was focused on the beautiful creature holding her close, his pale gray skin almost glowing in the light. Her fingertips traced the markings on his shoulder, slightly darker patches that ran in dappled bands down his back and tail. The only man to make love to her by her own choice was no man at all, but an incubus, a Demon Lord, who would not even be in her life were it not for a magnificent accident one year ago.

Her other hand, lying on the bed next to her face, he grasped in his, intertwining their fingers. His eyes shone with a scarlet gleam as he took a moment to gaze upon her face, his voice a whisper.

“Are you truly certain?”

Her hand tightened around his.

“Yes… Please, Oraion… I want you.”

He was so gentle with her it made her heart ache. She was afraid, but that fear, her trauma, would always be there. She didn’t need to let it define her, or make her choices.

Now, she chose to seize for herself the enjoyment and pleasure that was denied her past self when her first experiences with sex were instead filled with violence and pain.

A sigh left Noelle’s throat as Oraion pressed into her, slow and easy. This—this was what intimacy was supposed to be. Tender. Caring. A connection between lovers that each fulfilled the other, that gave as much as it took. Her trust in him was absolute, not because he was her Servant, but because that trust was returned, magnified. Everything in the past year had led to this moment when their bodies became united as one, when the contract between them took on a new form, a new meaning.

The pleasure that he ignited within her was unlike anything she knew. Whether it was his nature as an incubus, the bond they shared, or their heightened emotions; nothing could compare with this feeling. His hips moved over her own in a slow, steady rhythm as he made love to her, his rigid member filling her over and over.

“Gods, you feel so good,” he murmured in her ear, his voice low and husky. “Mistress, your pleasure is truly the sweetest I have ever tasted in all my years.”

“It must be because it comes from you,” she whispered back, running the fingers of her free hand into his mane of red hair. “No one else could make me feel… the way you do.”

“Noelle…”

The next few minutes passed in a sweet haze, such that Noelle almost forgot her illness. It did not forget her, however, and in the midst of their lovemaking her sinuses began to prickle.

“Oh… Oh gods… I-I’m gonna…”

The sway of Oraion’s hips sped up ever so slightly, the demon no doubt sensing the feelings stirring within her. Noelle turned her head and brought her free hand to her face as the buzzing itch sweeping her nasal passages overtook her.

“ih-hitschiew! ishiew-ishiew! Mmnh!”

She could hold nothing back now. Her own hips bucked, grinding against Oraion’s as intense pleasure flooded her and drove her mind blank. She was so tired and her throat so raw that she could make only a series of plaintive, moaning gasps as she rode out the climax. Their clasped hands bore a white-knuckle grip, and Noelle realized a moment after the fact that she had raked the nails of her free hand down Oraion’s back.

For some few moments the only sound in the room was their collective breathing in heavy pants and spent sighs. Oraion let go of her hand and instead stroked her cheek with his fingertips. The corners of his lips tugged up into a sweet smile, yet the slight furrow of his brow betrayed some concern.

“Are you all right?”

She returned his smile with one of her own, a soft chuckle whispering past her lips as she reached up and brushed some hair out of his eyes.

“Never better… Thank you.”

His smile widened.

“Well, it’s an important occasion. I had to make sure.”

“No, I mean… Thank you for being so patient with me. For never pressuring me. For waiting so long.”

“Oh, Mistress…” He leaned in and gave her an achingly soft kiss. “Do you remember what I said, all those months ago? I am literally here to please you. That will never change, and it is why your desires and comfort will always be paramount. If you’re not enjoying our time together… well, there isn’t much point, then, is there?”

“I suppose that’s true, but… I still appreciate it.”

The expression on his face was something like adoration, soft and warm that made her heart skip a beat.

“You’re welcome… my Mistress.”

Noelle chuckled again. “I’m only your Mistress by accident, you know.”

The demon grinned and brought his lips to hers once more with a whisper.

“Fine, then. My Accidental Mistress.”

[glossyybabie]

restless

part 6 || part 7 || part 8

Summary: You’re bedridden and isolated, again.

Warnings: Kidnapping. Needles.

Word count: 564

Notes: Missy’s surprisingly not mean (?). In a way, not-mean okayish-intentioned Missy scares me more to be honest.

You couldn't really do anything aside from stare into space. There was nothing else to fix your attention on anyway. The room was more plain than you thought was possible.

The trouble you were experiencing with walking only added to your frustration. Actually throwing your legs over the side of the single bed and carefully standing up was one thing, but taking steps forward was another. Your right leg wobbled hopelessly whenever you tried to put your weight on it, but blatantly hopping seemed to only make things worse.

And even once you reached the door it wouldn’t budge. There was no handle, just an electronic keypad that must’ve been switched off, because no combination of buttons prompted any kind of reaction from it. You’d quickly given up and lay back down again though — even if you were able to open the door, it wasn’t like you were in a state to go very far.

Your head throbbed uncomfortably, probably as a result of the agonisingly beige walls. It was a very drab colour, and even the bedsheets were bland and tasteless. There was no other furniture, just a single bed. Not even a chair, or a desk or something to amuse yourself with.

Your impatience grew by the second. By the time the door did open, you were nearly bursting with tension. Your fingers tapped idly against the top of the bedsheets.

As the door slid closed again with a beep, Missy folded her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes, seemingly scrutinising you from a distance. This only lasted a few seconds before she slowly approached your bed, her hand sliding into one of the pockets in her jacket.

Your gaze darted to her pocket and then up to her face. “What are you doing?”

Missy immediately slowed down, an action that was almost defensive. “Easy,” she said quietly. “Just stay calm.”

“What are you talking about?” you questioned her. “I am calm.”

She raised an eyebrow at that statement and glanced pointedly at your rapidly fidgeting hands. Your fingers hadn’t stayed still for the last hour or so. “Clearly.”

“Maybe if you didn’t lock me in here, I’d be fine,” you responded.

At this point, she rolled her eyes and retrieved an item from her pocket, although she refused to let you see it. It was tucked up her sleeve and left there for a moment while she walked around to the other side of the bed.

“Dearest, you’ve been in here for less than two minutes,” she told you. “Feels longer, doesn’t it? Now stay calm and still.”

“What do you mean, “feels longer”? It has been longer!” you protested. “I’ve been in here for –”

You were pinned down to the bed by a hand around your neck. You hadn’t even realised you’d gotten up and started towards her in the first place. You instinctively began to squirm underneath her grip, but the more you moved, the firmer she was.

In fact, you couldn’t even hear her until she injected something into your neck. Your veins were filled with something uncomfortably cold, but the effect was virtually immediate and the overwhelming screaming inside your head ceased.

“That’s it, ssh.” Missy withdrew the needle from you. She tucked it away into her pocket again and scoffed as she abruptly strided back out of the room. “You humans and your diseases . . .”

[romanticlcver]

continued from here! @dcgtown

Scarlet would usually love having two people fighting over her, but this isn't how it's supposed to go. There isn't really any fighting, her boyfriend breaking up with her at the first sign of something gone wrong, as if just looking for an out. Maybe he was. She sighs, rubbing a hand up and down her face, forgetting that she's wearing eye makeup. "I actually do have a twin, but no one ever confuses us." Maybe it would have worked, if she had thought of it sooner, but it's doubtful. "Do you do this often?" she asks Gus, harsh and accusatory. "Is this a kink? You think you're a knight in shining armor or something? You get off on this?"

[chryzure-archive]

“they have nightmares when you separate them. let them sleep.”

[chryzuree]

hmmm. okay. so after gavriel dies, due to scarlett being his daughter, she’s the next one in line to control the fates—which she really doesn’t want. she’s half-star, but she doesn’t like to use her powers + honestly she’s not sure she can anyway??

so when she hears of the other “heir” gavriel had in the past that ran away (from mistress luck, who—though she won’t admit it out loud—rlly misses chrysi and the light she brought w her), scarlett jumps on the chance to track chrysi down and put her in charge of the fates instead. even better to learn her sister’s ex-husband was actually chrysi’s fate instead of gavriel’s, and that he has a special connection to chrysi that tracks her down.

now jacks is roped into finding his childhood crush and his creator w his ex’s sister :/// but it’s okay, because he wants to see chrysi again. that said, the whole trip up is jst him and scarlett being very awkwardly silent around each other + scarlett asking probing questions abt chrysi that jacks does NOT want to answer.

[kara-knuckles]

Today my family went to a mineralogical museum. It's an awesome place (so many pretty rocks!), but one thing made me chuckle, namely this poster:

This is supposed to be the Mistress of the Copper Mountain, a folklore lady with powers over gems and ores who is known to appear as a lizard with a crown. But here is a catch: this is a male lizard.

As I mentioned in one of my photosets, males of this species turn green during mating season, while females always stay the “standard” gray-brown colour. Meaning, if you see a green lizard that looks like this, it is a horny boy. So to me this picture has the same energy as decorations (for Easter and the like) that depict roosters sitting on eggs or taking care of chicks, because people who were asleep when their biology teacher explained sexual dimorphism think hens aren't marketable pretty enough.

[sillygoosealert]

CAN YOU DO A REVENGE VERSION OF SUKUNA BETRAYING READER??!! LIKE WHAT IF READER RUNS AWAY BC THEY ACCIDENTALLY WITNESS HIM BEDDING ANOTHER CONCUBINE WHAT WOULD SUKUNA DO? SEND AN ARMY, BURN THE WORLD DOWN?!! 😭😭😭 AND CAN U TRY TO WEITE SOME COMFORT OR FLUFF AT THE END TYSMN

The Morning After (Before)

Days After Initiating Sexual-intercourse (whY)

angst, comfort in being alone, upset (angry) Sukuna, you leave, BEFORE you leave it's a toxic relationship, AFAB reader, woopsie Daisy- i killed off the reader (i got carried away ::( )

To explain your feelings to anyone but yourself brings tears to your already puffy eyes. Since that night, there are so many things you've noticed that you could talk about endlessly.

For starters, his boldness has increased plenty- as he is now more than comfortable with having multiple concubines clinging onto him while he slouches in his throne. When asked to describe him just a month or two ago, you would've gone on and on about how he was a gentle giant with you- a lie, but you would've sugar-coated anything when it came to him.

Right now, all you could even think about when it came to him was how good it would feel for all those women to look at him with disgust at his actions instead of devotion and whatever made-up fantasy they had made up in their heads. That's how you look at him anyway.

You despise keeping up with your cleaning and even dread entering his chamber with him. Furthermore, you do not act like you are interested in him. Eyes once filled with adornment and even some curiosity are now loaded with resentment and a trace of disinterest. He sees it, everyone else sees it, and you feel it. But it doesn't make you feel better knowing he knows- it just makes the pit of dread in your stomach grow.

You know you want him to care, but you can't help but feel he puts up a show of all the women at his disposal when you're in the vicinity- stretching his upper arms out and putting each one around a mistress while one or two sit on his spread-out lap. All you can think when you look at him is how much of an arrogant whore he truly is.

When he calls someone to bring you to his chambers, he always makes sure to feel up whoever is bringing you before shooing them out. His shoulders broaden as he motions you to come up on the bed. He looks bigger than he did a moment ago, and you can't help but feel he's doing it on purpose.

It's been weeks since you watched him choose 5 minutes of feeling good over you sleeping well at night. Was it worth it? You don't know. But the way he tries to passionately kiss you while his lower half eats you out makes you think he's trying to act like it didn't mean anything.

Regardless, you can't help but notice that the same woman is always seated on his lap whenever you catch a glance of him basking in all the attention he can.

The light slap to your thigh makes you look at him directly in the eyes for a second, before looking off to the side. That makes him huff, sitting upwards. Silence speaks volumes for both of you, as you are refusing to talk about your feelings because you think you know how it'll go; and he doesn't want to admit he's hurt by your rejection. So you both don't say anything.

This happens whenever he tries to initiate something intimate. You shut down. It often ends with stillness enfolding the room and an awkwardness surrounding you.

After a few minutes of waiting you leave without a word, and he lets you. While you go on to cry into your pillow and go on another night without comfort, while he gets a few concubines to praise him and fill the growing void with arrogance.

The more you clean and the less you eat and sleep, the feeling of wanting to die increases. Passing out when you get just a chance to lie down is now a common occurrence for you, as well as taking your time standing up.

Maybe you're depressed because you thought he would indulge in your selfishness and let you be the only woman to touch him so intimately. It's also possible that all the chemicals and labor are finally taking their toll on you and your body, meaning your time is shortening just as much as the other maids.

But the day doesn't start with you preparing to dust and sweep; it starts in Ryomen's Room.

You aren't upset anymore. You know that it contributes nothing and won't change anything. Instead of crying into your pillow or blaming yourself for his actions, you just go on. The world kept spinning after that night. Your heart kept beating- for now. The thought of him having sex like it wasn't once you under him isn't frustrating anymore. Not knowing what you want is, but you can handle that. You won't be his woman- you won't even be his man; you won't be anything to him if you can have a say in it.

He sits you in a chair facing his bed, clearing his throat as if he's going to speak- but he doesn't. Raising your eyebrow, you once again are met with speechlessness.

"What?" On cue, he acts offended, as if he isn't relieved you chose to speak up.

"Don't speak to me like that, Concubine."

"I'm more of a maid now than anything, my lord." He hums when you say that.

"You could be more than that- you could be much more. If you weren't so thoughtless." Thoughtless isn't a word you would use. Maybe more impassive- or a less self-absorbed characterization.

"What makes you say that?" An obnoxious sigh comes out of him.

"Jealousy fills you to the point you can't enjoy being one of my favorite concubines," He pauses

"It must be…oppugning to see me with so many women who aren't you," His posture straightens.

"But understand, the only difference between you and them is how you act."

"What's wrong with you? You don't understand why I feel this way at all, do you?" A sneer is plastered across his face now.

"Redirect your hostility towards yourself. Your jealousy is your concern, Not mine."

"I'm not talking to you. Lecture your other mistresses-" A hand pivots your head to face him.

"Keep speaking to me like you are not leagues below me. I won't hesitate to discard you."

"I'm sure you won't." He motions for you to go away as another concubine waits at the door. They give you a curious look before heading in. It's just her, no one else. That used to be you.

Later that night, after the last meal of the day, you're mopping the dining hall floors. You're pouring more cleaner into the water. You are alone.

That realization floods awful thoughts into your mind as the morning replays in your mind. And without thinking, you unscrew the cap again and bring it to your lips.

While taking a large sip from it, liquid spilling from your mouth and onto the floor, the taste of soap and something else fills your senses.

You start to gag and dry heave as it goes down your throat. Swallowing your vomit, you run off to your room after putting your things away.

There isn't anything after you close your eyes, not anymore for you, at least.

You fall asleep thinking about the night in question. It loads you with a peaceful feeling.

There's nothing you can do now. No more choosing to stay silent when all you want to do is crawl into your side of his bed and cry. You don't even have to choose to let go of your feelings of envy and insecurity.

You wonder what he'll do with your body the morning after somebody finds your decomposing body.

Tag list: @kbirdieee2540 @apollogeticx @night-brain