#also my behind-the-cut feature is not working for some reason

[somarysueme]

So, tattoo shop AUs are really popping off lately and personally I love it. What’s more romantic than bleeding for art? Nothing!

But as someone married to a tattoo artist, I have been experiencing some mild She Wouldn’t Say That regarding tattoo culture. So here’s a few quick tips that may help inform your AU. With a grain of salt for my mostly-second-hand knowledge:

NO ONE REPUTABLE SHOP WILL TATTOO A DRUNK PERSON. EVER. or even a person they suspect of any kind of inebriation. This is not just for Regret reasons, but also because alcohol is a blood thinner. If someone is on an acute dose of blood thinners, you generally do not want to stab them dozens of times per second.

Maybe this is regional, but in my experience most tattoo places don’t call themselves parlors anymore. It has a kind of seedy vibe. I see shop or studio a lot but rarely parlor.

Most tattoo artists are hot, yes, but none are as hot at my wife

Tattooing janks up your hands. Sometimes in a RSI way but definitely in a changing-gloves-every-five-minutes-fucks-up-your-skin way.

Artists themselves are rarely if ever employees of the shop. They will be independent contractors who pay the shop either a cut of their sales or rent on their station like a hair dresser. They are also (usually) responsible for taking care of their own supplies, tools, etc. except for the stencil printer. What kind of dweeb would have their own stencil printer?

There is always a line for the stencil printer. Always.

Artists generally spend orders of magnitude more time working on art, replying to emails, doing consults, etc compared to time with their needles in skin.

A typical schedule for an artist might be: wake up at noon and guzzle half her body weight in coffee, one appointment from 1-4, and another from 6-9. Home to eat one (1) real meal at 10 pm. Drawing until 5 am. This is good for her actually and good for our marriage and she’s so healthy all the time.

An ideal shop receptionist needs to be friendly, knowledgeable, and encouraging. They also need to be willing to get out the baseball bat that is kept behind the counter.

If a shop has to choose between “good people skills” and “will promptly rebuff Nazis and the obviously inebriated” the later is often a more important consideration.

At any given moment in any given shop there’s going to be at least one apprentice or someone bumming around hoping to be taken on as an apprentice. They spawn on tic and this feature cannot be disabled.

Again I can not overstate how hot my wife is

[pa1nrema1ns]

Opiate² || Sung Jin-woo (18+ One-shot)

Featuring: Yandere!Priest Sung Jin-woo x Fem!reader

If you want to get your soul to heaven Trust in me now, don't you judge or question You are broken now, but faith can heal you Just do everything I tell you to do

Summary:

“What you feel in your heart, the yearning you have for this man, it’s only to be expected. You are flesh and blood, malleable and weak to temptation. As am I… If you would indulge me, may I ask who it is that you covet so deeply?" “He—he is a man of faith,” you stutter, “someone I should have no business thinking about.” Father Jin-woo’s reply is sharp enough to cut bone: “But you still want him all the same, don’t you? This forbidden fruit of yours?”

♱ Word count: 5.8k

♱ A/N: It's finally here! My first, full-fledged smut fic, and I am beyond excited to share it with you all! Once again, I want to thank the incredible @ekkurea. She completely knocked it out of the park with her drop-dead gorgeous rendition of Father Jin-woo. She is an amazing artist and an absolute joy to work with. I highly recommend visiting her gallery and commissioning her.

I also want to thank my lovely friend and beta-reader @heyimkana for brainstorming ideas and offering encouragement during the writing process of this piece. Her help and insight has been invaluable, and I am extremely grateful for her support.

♱ Content warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, piv, body worship (giving and receiving), canon compliant AU (hunters and gates exist; Jin-woo is a retired hunter), afab!reader, dirty talk, religious themes and imagery, blasphemy, sacrilege, manipulation, possessiveness, voyeurism, gratuitous praise, pet names, softdom!Jin-woo.

♱ Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @anitalenia

♱ Header artwork by: @ekkurea exclusively for this fic. Please do not repost, edit, or use for your own fics, headcanons, or drabbles.

Your heart hammers inside your chest as you gaze at the confessional booth. A cursory glance at your surroundings reveals no other churchgoers inside the cathedral. Apart from a lone priest hidden behind the lattice, you were the only sign of life in this house of God.

An eerie silence floods the communal hall, worsening your anxiety. You release a shaky breath and wring your fists in consternation, too nervous to move from your spot in the pews.

Given your circumstances, you’re unsure if you should consider the lack of an audience a blessing or a curse. The foreboding atmosphere inside the church makes the latter seem more fitting, and for the first time since joining the parish, you find yourself feeling unwelcome and isolated here.

As if you were an outcast.

You clench your teeth at the thought.

In all your years of being a loyal parishioner, you hadn’t once sought penance. And up until this point, you didn’t have a reason to. You were a highly pious individual, regularly attending Mass, participating in the holy sacraments, and devoting all your free time to liturgical services. Of course, you weren’t always so virtuous. You had your vices, as all people do, but you remained steadfast on the path of righteousness. You had done everything in your power to live a life free from sin.

But the devil never sleeps, and evil lurks in the hearts of men.

Despite your best efforts, you were seduced into partaking of the forbidden fruit, and from the tree of knowledge, you ate. Now a blight has been cast on you, an affliction so devastating in its destructiveness that it left you teetering on the cusp of madness. Sin crept its way into your life, and it was slowly rotting you from the inside out.

Wickedness and temptation manifest in many ways depending on the person. For some, it’s hedonistic pleasures like promiscuity, excessive drinking, or gambling. For others, it’s immoral acts such as violence, theft, or murder.

For you, sin came in the form of a man.

Father Jin-woo stood out among the rest of the clergy. Young, roguishly handsome, and captivating in all measures, he attracted a considerable amount of attention from the parish. What’s more, the enigmatic priest proved to be a highly capable shepherd to his flock. In fact, he was held in such high regard within the church that many of Jin-woo’s followers attended his sermons just to catch a glimpse of him. The man was simply mesmerizing, both in aura and appearance.

Rumors abound about him being a former hunter, and if word of mouth is to be believed, he had been a damn incredible one. Why Jin-woo chose to abandon glory and riches beyond all reckoning for a humble life of the cloth, you did not know. To your fellow parishioners, it was a noble and benevolent decision.

But his aloof demeanor gave you pause. The man seemed to keep everyone at arm’s length, and then there were his eyes, so unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

You noticed right away that Jin-woo always had a coldness to his eyes, even while proclaiming the word of God. It was a truly menacing stare, one that burned white hot with the promise of brimstone and hellfire.

Yet it wasn’t fear or adoration that struck your heart when you first witnessed this side of him.

It was pure and unbridled lust. An animalistic desire to be so thoroughly ruined, so thoroughly fucked by Jin-woo that not even the deepest dregs of Hell would have you.

You remember the rush of heat curling low and heavy in your stomach as you watched him give Mass the other day. You swiped your tongue across your lips as you imagined mouthing at the smooth expanse of his neck. You’d leave little love marks on the sensitive skin just above his clerical collar, making it impossible for him to hide.

When the priest raised his arms in supplication, his muscles pulled taut against the sleeves of his cassock, causing your breath to catch in your throat. That single action triggered a domino effect on you. Your panties began to dampen, your heart rate skyrocketed, and your clit pulsed for attention. You pressed your thighs together, attempting to quell the ache between them, but the small amount of friction it produced just wasn’t enough; you needed more. You needed Jin-woo’s fingers to be knuckle-deep inside your tight, wet cunt.

You bit back a moan and tried to ignore your arousal, hoping it would just go away on its own. But it was no use; every aspect of the priest bewitched you in that moment. His calm composure, the hard ridges of his body, and his quiet self-assurance all spoke of virility.

Ultimately, it was his piercing gaze that sealed your fall from grace. During the Penitential Act, you locked eyes with Jin-woo. There was such a smoldering, sexual intensity in the way he looked at you that it bordered on being indecent. You trembled under his stare, and for a fraction of a second, you saw the hint of a smirk upon his lips before he turned his focus elsewhere.

After that, your fantasies ran wild and unimpeded, your mind full to bursting with pornographic prose. You thought of Jin-woo pinning your knees to your chest as he pounded into your pussy until it molded to the shape of him. He’d bend you to his will, forcing every ounce of pleasure out of your pliant body while your ankles dangled helplessly from his broad shoulders like earrings.

Next, you fantasized about him eating you out like a starved beast as you writhed and moaned like a whore on the altar. The other clergymen would watch on in envy as they stroked their plump and leaking cocks, wishing they could also get a taste of your dripping pussy.

You idly wondered if Jin-woo would make you cum with slow, purposeful licks or if he would ruthlessly tongue fuck you, sucking and flicking at your sensitive little clit until you were a wailing mess.

Eventually these lust-fueled thoughts became too much to bear; slick coated your thighs, and the fire in your loins was blazing into an all-out inferno. You ended up sneaking out of Mass midway through the scripture readings to slake your thirst.

You took refuge in an unoccupied sacristy and slid your soaked panties to the side. Your cunt was positively throbbing with want; it was frightening just how aroused you were. But fear wasn’t about to stop you from making yourself cum.

You circled your clit and slowly pumped two fingers in and out of your sopping core, curling the digits against a spot that caused you to let out a small whimper as you sought more stimulation. The priest’s face was on your mind and his name on your lips when you came with a hushed moan.

The entire time, you were oblivious to the silent specter watching you from the shadows.

When you returned, there was something decidedly wrong with Jin-woo. His forehead was dotted with sweat, he had a white-knuckled hold on the podium, and he’d bitten his lip so hard blood ran down his chin. A few of the parishioners voiced their concerns, worried he might’ve taken ill, but he waved them off, wiping his mouth and continuing his oration as if nothing had happened.

You felt the priest’s eyes boring into you as you took your seat, and you ended up avoiding his gaze for the rest of the sermon.

At that time, an irrational part of you feared that Jin-woo knew what you did in the sacristy. But he couldn't have heard you through the thick walls of the cathedral… could he? No, there was no way. He was probably just pissed at you for disrupting his service; you’d have to apologize the next time you saw him.

That night, you prayed to the Almighty for forgiveness, but no amount of Hail Marys would be enough to rid you of the guilt and shame you felt. You needed absolution, an act of mercy that only an ordained priest could grant you.

You don’t know whether to cry or laugh at the irony of it all. Fate had a really fucked-up sense of humor, didn’t it?

And this brought you to where you are now, a penitent seeking salvation.

After several minutes of self-reflection, you strengthen your resolve and finally stand up from the pews; it was now or never. You approach the booth and make the sign of the cross prior to entering.

You cross yourself once more as you kneel behind the screen. All is silent, save for the steady breathing of the unseen priest. You swallow nervously before greeting him, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession.”

A deep and familiar voice responds wholeheartedly to your call.

“Peace be upon you and take heart. You show much bravery by coming here today. To seek penance is to acknowledge our own faults and misgivings. It is a vulnerable act, but the Lord is merciful and just. You’ve nothing to fear in his presence. Now, please tell me, what have you come to confess?”

Just your luck; it was Jin-woo. Fate definitely had it out for you.

You release a breath you’re not even aware you’ve been holding and begin to speak your truth.

“Father, for the last few months I’ve been overcome by sexual desire for… an acquaintance of mine. At first, I thought it was an innocent crush, but as time passes, I find myself becoming more and more obsessed with him… to the point where it scares me.”

You can feel your face growing hot as you speak; it makes you feel even smaller and more exposed in front of the priest. You keep your head firmly bowed, refusing to face him.

“I see, so these lustful thoughts and feelings are what trouble you?” he inquires, tone impartial.

“Yes, Father,” you answer sullenly.

“God sends us many in the way of trials and tribulations, both to test our faith and to build character. It is unfortunate that affliction often precedes deliverance, but only in suffering can we truly blossom and grow stronger.”

After a short pause, he continues, his voice dulcet now. “What you feel in your heart, the yearning you have for this man, it’s only to be expected. You are flesh and blood, malleable and weak to temptation. As am I… If you would indulge me, may I ask who it is that you covet so deeply?"

“He—he is a man of faith,” you stutter, “someone I should have no business thinking about.”

Jin-woo’s reply is sharp enough to cut bone: “But you still want him all the same, don’t you? This forbidden fruit of yours?”

You raise your head and direct your gaze at the screen, diffident. He continues, “Two days ago, I saw you departing from Mass quite suddenly. I grew concerned, of course; you’re always so engaged when it comes to receiving the message of God, so I found your actions to be highly out of character… Now, after listening to your plight, I can’t help but wonder if that unusual behavior has anything to do with what we’re discussing right now.”

‘Wait, what!?’ You think, internally panicking. ‘Did he know? Did Jin-woo actually know—’

“I recall one of the deacons pulling me to the side after service that day. He was blushing furiously; when I asked him what was wrong, he mentioned hearing a noise that sounded like a woman’s moans and whimpers coming from our sacristy. Strange, isn’t it?”

“…” Words fail you. From behind the lattice, the priest’s eyes shift from cobalt blue to a sinister shade of amethyst as he studies your face.

There’s an audible smirk in his voice when he next asks, “Does any of this ring a bell for you? And do be honest with me when you answer this time. You’ll find that I have a low tolerance for liars, sweet girl.”

Your heart plummets into the pit of your stomach. So, he knew. He fucking knew this whole time, and he played you like a fiddle. The writing was on the wall, and there was no use in playing coy with a man who saw straight through your bullshit.

“Yes… it does,” you answer in barely above a faltering whisper, “I was in that room when I should’ve been at Mass, and I—I was touching… myself.”

There’s only silence on the other side of the lattice. The lack of a response makes you feel an even deeper sense of embarrassment.

You frantically apologize to Jin-woo, hoping to make amends. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Father! The sins I’ve committed behind these sacred walls are unforgivable, but I just couldn’t take it anymore! The person—the man I’ve been lusting over—is you!”

The priest inhales sharply, his first notable reaction since this debacle began.

“I lost control of myself as I watched you during your sermon; I couldn’t stop thinking about having your hands all over me!” you babble, “I left that day because I was so turned on by you; it was driving me insane! I hid in the sacristy and masturbated just so the hunger would go away…and I imagined some truly terrible things about you as I touched myself.”

When Jin-woo graces you with a response, his voice is husky, with an air of desperation in it. “Tell me what it is you thought of; reveal to me your darkest and most depraved impulses. And do not hold back. I won’t be able to cleanse your soul of sin unless I know the true depths of your debauchery.”

Your eyes widen, not so much from his request but from the wanton neediness in his voice. It awakens something inside you, something primal that rids you of all shame and inhibition.

“I’ve daydreamt of you fucking me in front of the clergy with my legs spread wide open on the altar.” you say, emboldened now, “I fantasized about sucking your cock and forcing so much pleasure on you that you forsake God, and I become the new deity you worship. I want to corrupt you in the same way the devil has corrupted me. There’s a sickness inside me, Father, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

You hear the faint rustling of clothes and a belt clinking. A moment later, a throaty groan escapes the priest, and the sound shoots straight to your core. You slip a hand beneath the sundress you’re wearing and run a finger along your slit, already wet with slick.

You didn’t care if he saw you this time. There was nothing left for you to hide.

“Meet me outside of the booth. Now.” Jin-woo abruptly demands, his terse tone brooking no argument. You heed his words without question, standing on coltish legs and walking with a slight tremor as you exit the confessional.

Jin-woo is in full view before you now, a licentious shell of his former self. Strands of hair stuck to his forehead haphazardly, sweat ran in rivulets down his face, and his fly was undone, exposing his hard and drooling cock.

You shamelessly drink him in. His cock was thick, thicker than you could’ve ever imagined, with prominent veins and a slight curve towards the tip that looked like it would hit you just right. His cockhead was also flushed a vibrant shade of red, and pearls of precum glistened at the glans. You wet your lips in anticipation, eager to get a taste of him. Jin-woo notices your ogling and gives himself a languid pump, once then twice, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Come to me,” he purrs, “Come so that I may bestow your penance.”

You take a step, but then he stops you with a second command.

“No, angel; I need you on your hands and knees. I want you to crawl to me like the lost little lamb that you are. Crawl for me, crawl for my cock.”

You sink to your knees and lower your hands to the ground, making sure to give the priest an ample view of your cleavage as you slink towards him on all fours. His expression is rhapsodic as he watches you, like a man who’s finally found purpose in his life.

“Look at you, look at how fucking gorgeous you are on your hands and knees. Such an obedient girl for me,” he coos at you with honeyed praise, cracks starting to show in his stoic façade.

Once you’re at his feet, Jin-woo quickly resumes his authoritative tone. “Give me your chin,” he orders. You obey, tilting your head back, and he grabs you firmly by the jaw, forcing you to look at him.

His eyes emit a luminous glow, reminding you of his status as an S-rank hunter. You’d all but forgotten this through the haze of your lust-addled mind, but you weren’t afraid of the priest’s change in attitude. In fact, you find his display of power invigorating.

He slowly caresses your cheek with his thumb and gravely states, “The devil has sunk his fangs into you, sweet girl, and he tempts you just as he tempts me, through our baser instincts. Your soul is tainted, but it’s not beyond salvation by my hands. Only by succumbing to your carnal desire for me can you achieve absolution. Knowing this, are you fully prepared to accept the penance you’ve earned?”

You try to nod your head, but he tightens his hold on you—not enough to hurt, just enough to let you know who’s in charge.

“Use your words, angel.”

“Yes, Father.”

A rakish smile spreads across his face, and he presses a chaste kiss to your head. “Good girl. Now, take my cock into that pretty little mouth of yours. Earlier you said that you would make me forsake God for pleasure. That was the devil speaking through you, no doubt. Let’s test this twisted conviction of his, shall we?”

He releases you and rises to his full height, glancing down expectantly. You immediately get to work, eager to satisfy him. You tug at the waistband of Jin-woo’s trousers, and he tilts his narrow hips to assist you. Once the pants are halfway down his thighs, you’re able to fully take him in. Not only was his dick intimidating in girth, but it was also long and even prettier up close.

There’s a potent headiness in the air that surrounds him, a distinctly masculine scent that you can’t help but crave more of. Unable to resist, you lean forward, bracing yourself against one of Jin-woo’s legs, and press your nose against the coarse hair at the base of his cock.

When he sees you smelling him, the priest lets out a soft chuckle that breaks into a moan when you begin to play with his balls. You gently fondle them, appreciating the weight and feel in your hand. With your other hand, you stroke his shaft, alternating between twisting and up-and-down motions. Jin-woo lets out a pleased grunt at your ministrations and rasps, “Hah…ahh… yeah, just like that, just like—oh!—oh, fuck!” The priest hisses as his cock is suddenly engulfed in the wet heat of your mouth.

You swallow around him, swirling your tongue on the underside of his shaft before pulling back to kitten-lick at his leaking cockhead. He tastes like salt and skin, and you dip your tongue into his slit to savor more of him. Once you’ve had your fill of his pre, you hollow your cheeks and sink your mouth further down his length. Jin-woo tosses his head back, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy.

“Good girl—fuuuck!”

At this stage, your neglected pussy was wet and positively aching with need. Without stopping your ministrations, you sneak your other hand between the juncture of your thighs and slide a finger into your core. There’s absolutely no resistance, allowing you to effortlessly slip two more fingers in, up to the knuckle. This finally gives you the sense of fullness you’ve been longing for. Once satisfied with the stretch, you begin to massage your inner walls and grind your clit against the heel of your palm.

Your actions cause you to whine and moan around Jin-woo’s cock. He hums lowly, equal parts amused and aroused by your neediness.

“Mmm…are you touching that greedy cunt again? Heh, how cute... no—no, don't stop touching yourself, angel. I want you to get off too. I want you to make yourself cum with my cock in your throat and your fingers thrusting into that perfect pussy.” Praise intermingled with filth spews from his lips as he becomes lost in the feeling of your mouth. The priest promptly tightens his hold on your head and starts to buck his hips, face-fucking you at a brutal tempo.

The sudden intrusion causes your eyes to well, and you gag as you feel him hitting the back of your throat. You focus on breathing through your nose and attempt to relax your throat, a monumental task given how girthy and long the priest's dick was. Jin-woo takes note of your discomfort and stills his hips. You glance up at him through tears, and there's a softness in his features you'd never seen before. Unprompted, he loosens his hold on your head and cards his fingers through your hair, brushing the strands from your face. Next, he rubs the pads of his thumbs over your dampened cheeks. You melt into his touch and nuzzle against his hand.

After remaining like this for a few precious moments, Jin-woo begins to thrust again, this time at a much slower and less punishing pace. You allow him to guide your head down his shaft while you pump your fingers into your wet heat. A coil was sprung tight in your abdomen, and each swipe at your clit and scrape against your inner walls sends a thrum of pleasure throughout your body. The shockwaves to your impending orgasm were already set in stone; all you needed was that final push to send you toppling over the edge—

Without warning, you feel the presence of a large palm cupping your mons. It glides along your panties, tracing your pussy lips through the thin material. Before you can process what's happening, your underwear is tugged to the side and your fingers are pried from your cunt by an invisible force. Something much bigger replaces the digits. It fills you to the brim in one go, knocking the air out of your lungs. Your thighs shake when the appendage starts to undulate against your plush walls. Every twist and turn causes you to inhale sharply. The phantom's touch wanders aimlessly, with no set destination. Or so it seems, until you feel an intense burst of pressure on your sweetest spot.

You squeal at the sensation and lurch backward, a string of saliva lewdly trailing from your lips as you part from Jin-woo’s cock. You thrash wildly, trying with all your might to escape. It was just too much, too soon. But the priest effortlessly maintains his hold on you, and you can only watch in horror when several more tendrils of mana manifest from his hands.

The magic slithers across his forearms, down the floor, and between your thighs before disappearing into your exposed cunt. Using Ruler’s Hand, Jin-woo plays with the wetness that dances along your puffy folds. He then lifts the hood of your clit to lightly graze at the bud beneath it before pinching at the sensitive bundle of nerves. That was all it took to send you spiraling over the edge. Waves of white-hot pleasure rip through you so violently, your vision fades in and out. All the while, the telekinetic appendage steadily fucks you through it, reaching depths you'd never imagined.

Your body clenches, then slackens, in the aftershock of your orgasm. There’s buzzing in your ears, a white noise that temporarily deafens you. But through the static, you’re able to hear the faint sound of someone screaming. It doesn’t register as your own voice at first; it was raw, hoarse, and unrecognizable. Like the pale imitation of a changeling.

Time slows and distorts, and you feel yourself drifting, sinking further and further away from a state of consciousness.

But Jin-woo manages to reel you in, away from the darkness.

“—come back to me, angel. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Choked moans and broken syllables are all you can muster in your blissed-out state, “Hnng—ahhh! Fa—Father! I… ha…ahn!”

“Shhh, it's alright." Jin-woo murmurs softly while stroking your cheek with his knuckles. He wraps his other hand around his pulsating cock and repeatedly runs his fist from the base to the tip, using a mixture of his own pre-cum and your drool as a lubricant. Above Jin-woo lay a large stained-glass mural of Saint Mary Magdalene. He's cast in iridescent rays of light as the setting sun illuminates the window, making him appear transcendent. The sight of him takes your breath away.

So enraptured were you with Jin-woo's beauty that you don't even realize he's lowered his hand from your face to your tits. He kneads at the supple flesh, admiring your softness. You mewl and arch into his touch, surrendering yourself to him. The priest then dips his hand into the décolletage of your dress and yanks it down, exposing your luscious breasts and the hardened peak of your nipples. Your core throbs at the strangled moan he lets out. “Oh fuck, you’re so soft, so warm,” he whispers shakily as he gropes at the plump mounds, “And the way the sun lights your skin, the enticing curves of your body, the quickening of your pulse as I take you in my hand… how? Just how can you be real? I’ve never wanted something—someone—so badly in my life.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the movements of Ruler’s Hand came to a complete halt. In an instant, all the telekinetic energy that surrounds your partially clad form dissipates. You’re not even spared the chance to gather your bearings before Jin-woo unceremoniously hauls you to your feet and presses his muscular frame to yours. He brings his face close, with only the narrowest of margins separating your lips from his. You can feel his breath in yours, the beating of vitality in his heart, and the rigid planes of clothed muscle against your bare breasts. You yearn for him to close the gap, to finally submit to the searing passion that consumed both of you.

Several agonizing seconds pass before Jin-woo pleads—begs, as the last of his restraint crumbles. “Please, please, let me have you—!” Unable to control himself, the priest captures your lips in a hungered kiss. You moan into his mouth and gasp when he slips his tongue inside to gently brush against your own. A low growl emits from the priest’s throat, and all semblance of rationality is lost.

Jin-woo delves his tongue further, deepening the kiss. You readily yield, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning into him. Jin-woo grasps you by the throat possessively and allows his other hand to drift freely over your figure. He caresses the swell of your breasts with his calloused fingers, treading slowly over your pert nipples and leaving goosebumps in his wake. Next, he smooths his palm down your sternum and along your abdomen until he reaches the curve of your hip. The priest sinks his fingers into the pliable flesh, and with his lips never once leaving yours, he starts to walk you backward.

Jin-woo leads, and you follow; your submission to him nearly second nature by now. After a few stumbling steps, your back hits something hard, and the strange sensation causes you to break the kiss. Undeterred, the priest slides his hand from the front of your neck to your nape, and with the other hand he has on your hip, he uses his strength to hoist you onto a table—no—an altar. Jin-woo then lowers your upper body onto the platform, slots himself between your legs, and pulls the hem of your sundress up until the fabric bunches at your waist.

The breathless “oh fuck,” he mumbles at the sight of your bare cunt, has you clenching around thin air. The priest pants, and a sheen of sweat coats him as he pins you to the altar with his larger frame. He gazes at you with eyes glazed over before grabbing at his cock and running the tip of it along your slit. You bleat pathetically, and Jin-woo presses a feather-light kiss to the corner of your mouth to coddle you. He then slides his lips over yours, kissing you in earnest. When he parts, the priest murmurs imploringly, “I wanted to take my time with you, angel, really, I did. But if I go for another second without fucking you, I fear I might go insane. Tell me, are you sure you want this? This is your last chance to back out. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to stop once I’m inside you.”

You answer without hesitation, “Yes! Oh god, yes—”

He cuts you off midsentence, sheathing himself entirely in your heat. Your eyes well up as he splits you apart on his cock. No matter how wet you were, nothing could’ve prepared you for the sheer breadth of Jin-woo’s dick. He stretched you far past your limits, filling you so completely that you swore you could feel him at the back of your throat.

Your thighs tremble and your head lulls to the side, baring your neck to him. The priest licks a fat stripe from your collar bone to the apple of your check, lapping up your salty tears. Your walls flutter and tighten at his actions, and he groans approvingly, pushing his cock in even deeper. Your thighs tremble and your face scrunches at the sting. Jin-woo hadn’t even moved yet, and you were already falling to pieces underneath him. You clutch onto his shoulders for purchase, digging your nails into the well-defined muscles. Jin-woo grunts and lowers his face into the crook of your neck to nose against it. You shudder when you feel his breath tickling your ear.

“You feel fucking divine, angel. So warm, wet, and inviting… I think I’ll keep you for myself once I’m done. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Oh—shit! Did you just clench? Sweet girl, if you keep doing that, then I really won’t hold back.” The priest emphasizes his warning with a nip to your throat, drawing a cry of surprise from you.

Using this momentary pain as a distraction, Jin-woo pulls out of you until only the tip remains and then rams his hips forward, spearing you on his dick. You babble and wail incoherently as he batters your bruised walls. True to his word, the priest was holding nothing back from you. He pistons his hips in and out at an unrelenting tempo and grinds his pelvis on your clit with every thrust he makes. Gradually, the soreness in your cunt gives way to pleasure. You wrap your legs around Jin-woo’s waist and dig your heels into the small of his back, anchoring him to you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin and cries of ecstasy permeate the room. Jin-woo thrusts desperately into you, his nostrils flaring and the veins in his forearms bulging from exertion. If the pulsing of his cock inside you was anything to go by, then he was close. Dangerously so. You weren’t far behind either; the priest was hitting all your spots, and the constant stimulation on your clit was maddening.

Jin-woo catches you totally unawares when he presses his forehead to yours. He peers into your eyes, looking intently into the depths, and then he speaks a secret meant only for you. “Allow me to make a confession of my own. There was no deacon wandering by the sacristy that day. It was me; I was the one who saw you in the throes of passion. And when I heard you moan my name—my actual name and not the title that binds me to the church—it took everything in me not to mount you right then and there! You have no idea what you do to me, sweet girl.”

“It’s not your fault. Nothing is your fault. I’m the one to blame, Angel, not you.” Jin-woo quickly silences the unspoken apology burning at the tip of your tongue. He could sense it coming from the hurt look in your eyes.

“As a hunter, I’ve dirtied my hands, stolen countless lives, and conquered lands unknown to man or God, all in the pursuit of power. I am tainted, bathed in sin. A disgrace to our lord and undeserving of someone as pure and as beautiful as you. But I don’t care what hell awaits me. All that matters is that you’re mine now. Mine—mine—only mine!” He snarls at the end, punctuating every word with a snap of his hips. Your breasts bounce, your thighs quiver, and your mouth forms a small ‘o’ under the influence of his ministrations. To Jin-woo, you were the spitting image of a fallen angel. You were also his undoing, as his thrusts became sloppy and more erratic. His hips stutter then cease all movement as he spills his seed inside you, cumming with a deep and guttural groan. You follow suit shortly thereafter, tossing your head back and screaming the priest’s name as you climax.

Jin-woo slumps forward, dipping his face into the valley of your breasts. You reach down to idly stroke at the ebony tresses. The two of you bask in each other’s presence as the afterglow washes over. You were boneless and utterly spent, but the exhaustion was well earned. Sex had never left you feeling so sated or fulfilled before. It was incredible… and tiring.

Your lids start to grow heavy, the promise of sleep too tempting to ignore. As your eyes flutter shut, you feel a strong pair of arms coiling around your waist and lifting you into a sitting position. Your body then becomes weightless, and footsteps echo in the background. Jin-woo must’ve been carrying you. ‘Such a kind man,’ you think.

When your breath evens out and you at last fall asleep, the priest pecks your forehead and peers up at the mural of Jesus Christ at the entrance of the cathedral. Jin-woo addresses the Son of God with a plea on your behalf.

“Forgive her, for she knows not what she does.”

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hello,

could you write a Hannibal fanfic, where the reader is Will‘s student ( very protective of her) and Hannibal takes a interest in her, after psych. evaluation? He starts wooing her over and Will (platonic) doesn‘t like it at all. In the end there is smut between the reader and Hannibal after a dinner party ?(Maybe Will later here‘s from Crawford about it, because Crawford went to Hannibal‘s house to get him for a case)

Hannibal x Reader: Off limits

Warnings: smut, kissing, patient x therapist, fingering, pet names, cowgirl, ridding, penetration ( p in v), no use of y/n, female reader

Words count: 4,6K (dear lord 🙃)

“I don’t know if this is a good idea Will.”

“Why not?”

“Talking to your psychiatrist about my shit? Don’t you think that crossing some kind of boundary?”

“First he's not my physiatrist, not officially anyway. And secondly I would say drinking at my house crosses more boundaries than this. That didn’t stop you though right?”

“Yeah I guess you’re right.”

“Plus you need this. Talking to someone about stuff helps.”

“Fine. You’re sure he’s okay with it right?”

A week ago Will had mentioned you to Hannibal for the first time since he’d started having his sessions. The conversation had begun because Hannibal had asked him if he had anyone in his corner that he could trust. Will had immediately thought of you. Despite being his student you had helped him through a lot of stuff and pretty soon he considered you more of a friend then a student. He worried people would accuse him of favoritism but you were one smart cookie so he didn’t really have to worry about that. You knew your shit. No one could deny that. Of course Will also worried about people spreading rumors that you were sleeping with him but when he’d shared his concerns with you you’d just shrugged. 

“People are gonna say shit about us anyway Will. I’m not gonna cut our friendship because of what some idiots say about us.”

He’d known he could count on you for anything but he could tell you were dealing with a lot more shit then you’d let on.  It was one of the reasons why he’d told Hannibal about you. Will wondered if maybe talking with someone you knew he trusted would put your mind at ease. So here the two of you were standing in front of Hannibal's office door. You fiddle with your fingers trying your best to call your racing mind. Will notices your fidgeting causing him to grab onto your hand. You look up at him with a small smile which he returns. You hear the door open making your head snap to look at it.

Hannibal takes in the sight before him, his eyes catching on the way Wills hand is latched onto yours. He forces his gaze to move back up to your face. His eyes soften a bit at the sight of you. You have a sort of deer in headlights look in your eyes and Hannibal can’t help but feel a bit of pity. From what Will had told him you weren’t super into the whole therapy thing but you’d accepted to talk to him because Will thought it would help. Still from the look in your eyes Hannibal could tell you were hesitant. He would have to convince you that you could trust him. 

Dr. Lecter gave you a welcoming smile before stepping to the side and gesturing for you to enter. You looked at Will for a moment, a twinge of fear present on your features. Will simply gave your hand a squeeze before letting it go.

“It'll be alright. Dr. Lecter will take care of you. I’ll be here waiting for you.”

“You aren’t going to come in?”

“I’ve found that the session works best if it's just the two of us.”

You glanced at Hannibal as he spoke, trying to make up your mind about him. He placed his palm out to you, inviting you to take his hand. After a moment of hesitation you accepted his invitation, taking his hand in yours and allowing him to guide you inside. He released your palm once you were inside, turning to close the door behind you.

You watched as Will's face slowly became out of view, his boyish smile no longer able to be seen. You turned around, taking in your surroundings. You’d never done this before so you didn’t really know how it worked. Should you sit down? Or were you supposed to lay down like they showed in the movies? 

Luckily for you Hannibal seemed to sense your confusion. He made his way to his chair, taking a seat before gesturing to the empty seat before him. 

“Please make yourself comfortable.”

You did as he asked, making your way over to the chair. You moved a bit trying to find a comfortable position. Hannibal watched you squirm a bit, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You were quite a sight. Will seemed to have forgotten to mention that. Not that that bothered Hannibal. In fact he welcomed the surprise.

Once you were satisfied with your position you stopped fidgeting and raised your gaze to look at Hannibal. For the first time you saw him. Really saw him. He was oddly attractive with a sort of Victorian beauty. You weren’t used to guys like that. In the FBI most of the guys were covered in scars and built like monster trucks. They needed to look tough, even if they weren’t. That was just part of the job. 

But the man before you was nothing like that. With his tailored suit and perfectly combed hair he looked like a man of great importance. The sort of guy you’d call when you needed tickets into some sort of high society party. And yet he had this sort of energy to him that made you feel he wasn’t as innocent as he seemed. If anything his looks hid behind them a sort of unfiltered violence. But somehow you didn’t fear him. In fact you found yourself suddenly intrigued by a man you’d only exchanged less than a few words with. 

That was about to change however. Because the moment Hannibal started talking to you it seemed like everything you’d been holding in for years just started to spill out. You told him about how you were treated in the FBI, about how no one thought you had it in you to deal with this kind of stuff. You told him about your home life and your relationship with your family. Your deepest thoughts spilled onto the floor of Hannibal's office and he didn’t seem to mind. He listened to you with so much attention and understanding that it shocked you a bit. By the end of the session you felt like someone had taken the weight of your shoulders. 

Will watched you come out of the room, the sound of your laugh filling his ears as you and Hannibal finished talking. A sudden wave of anger filled Will's chest. What had Hannibal said to make you laugh in such an unfiltered manner? The thing about Will was that he was very protective of you. He saw you like a little sister so he couldn’t help but become on edge when in the span of one hour Hannibal had managed to strip away any hesitancy you had entered the session with. He was glad you seemed lighter but he also knew Hannibal and he couldn’t help but worry about his intentions with you. 

“I’ll see you next week Dr. Lecter.”

“Just Hannibal is fine dear. There’s no need for these pleasantries.”

“Okay then Hannibal. Same time next week?”

“See you then dear. It was nice seeing you Will.”

Will rose from his seat giving Hannibal one final glance before making his way to you. He placed his hand on your back guiding you towards the door. Hannibal didn't miss the way Will looked at him, but the thought disappeared when he saw the smile you gave him before you left. There was no denying it now. Hannibal found himself very interested in you. If there was something about Hannibal it was that he got what he wanted. And right now what he wanted was you.

You continued to have your sessions with Hannibal. Sometimes you’d talk about the FBI and your studies. Other times you’d talk of your dreams of the future. And then there were days where you felt like you had nothing to say so you’d convince Hannibal to tell you about himself. You’d begun to enjoy your sessions. The closer the day came the more anxious you became. You found yourself contemplating what to wear to therapy. Even though you knew your feelings weren’t exactly “professional” you couldn’t get yourself to care. You’d often catch Hannibal looking at you in ways that didn’t scream professionalism. The more you talked to him the more you felt like you were becoming friends and then one day Hannibal decided to make up his mind.

You were walking around the room, a habit you’d developed during your sessions. Hannibal watched you move around the room, his eyes following the sway of your hips. You had been talking about Will and Hannibal couldn’t  seem to hold his tongue any longer.

“Are you interested in Will Graham?  Romantically I mean.”

“What? No way! I mean Will is great and all but I see him more like an older brother then anything. He’s been there for me you know?”

You turned to look at Hannibal, your eyes finding him. He stared up at you with a blank look.

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh you just talk alot about him is all.”

“Oh come on Hannibal. Talking about someone a lot doesn’t mean you like them. You of all people should know that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you talk about Dr Bloom a lot but you’re not….interested in her.”

Hannibal watched your brows furrow for a moment, your gaze suddenly glued to the ground. 

“Unless you are and I've just read it completely wrong.”

You tried to keep your voice steady and impassive but Hannibal could see the slight disappointment in your tone. He called out your name forcing you to return your gaze to him. You glanced down at him in curiosity. 

“You are right. Talking about someone doesn't mean you like them.”

You held your breath for a moment awaiting for the verbal confirmation of what you already imagined. 

“I am not romantically interested in Dr. Bloom. I merely respect her as a professional.”

You let out a small sigh, trying your hardest to not show the joy you felt. Hannibal rose from his seat making his way to his desk. You watched him open one of the drawers grabbing a piece of paper. He made his way back to you standing mere inches from you. You looked at the piece of paper in his hand before grabbing it. Your eyes ran over the words scrawled out in his handwriting.

“What’s this?”

“An invitation. I’m having a dinner party on Saturday and I'd love for you to come.”

Will had told you about Hannibal's dinner parties and his custom of inviting people over for dinner but you never imagined you’d be one of these lucky few. A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. You looked up at Hannibal catching the way his eyes narrowed in on your lips. 

“Thank you. I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful. It seems our time is up. I’ll see you at the party then.”

He walked you over to the door opening it for you. You nodded your head in thanks, making your way out. Just as Hannibal was about to close the door you spun around.

“Oh um… I've never been to a dinner party. What should I wear?”

It seemed like a silly question but you wanted to fit in with Hannibal's friends. You wanted to show him you could keep up with him. Hannibal looked at you for a moment before speaking.

“Wear whatever you feel like dear. I’m sure you’ll look beautiful in anything you choose. Your presence is the only thing that matters to me.”

Your heart almost stopped at Hannibal's words. It's had been a while since someone had given you such an unfiltered and direct compliment. You were a bit taken aback. In a good way of course.

Hannibal had just revealed to you, in a short amount of words, that he found you beautiful in any way and that he enjoyed being around you. Your mouth was dry as you tried to force yourself to speak. You managed to make your brain work enough to squeak out a small ‘Thank you until Saturday’ before racing to your car. 

When Saturday finally came you were practically buzzing with anxiety. You’d tried on three different outfits and settled on one you thought fit in with a dinner party, something stylish but not too flashy. The whole drive over to Hannibal's house you couldn’t seem to calm the hammering of your heart. You tried blasting music to calm yourself but it didn’t work. Fortunately your brain seemed to go into automatic mode because before you knew it you were parking in front of Hannibal's home. You stared at the house from the car window, noticing the lights peeking through the curtains. You took a deep breath in trying to dull the anxiousness you felt.

“He invited you. He wants you here. There is nothing to worry about.”

You stepped out of the car making your way to the door. You thought of knocking for a moment but you doubted he’d be able to hear it over the classical music that seeps through the door. Your finger moved to ring the doorbell, heels tapping the ground as you waited. You turned around talking in the rest of the houses on the street. 

Hannibal made his way to the door tugging it open. He didn’t know who to expect, he’d invited quite a lot of people and many of them still hadn’t arrived. All thoughts seemed to leave his mind when his eyes caught onto your frame. You had your back turned to him, the backless dress you’d decided to wear allowing him to see your bare skin. He stared at you for a moment opting to bask in your beauty before calling your attention. 

You spun on your heels as the music suddenly grew louder, eyes falling on hannibal. He was wearing a suit like he always was but you could tell this one was special. You were suddenly relieved by your choice of clothing. 

“Good evening dear.”

“Hi.”

“You look exquisite. But then again I knew you would. Please come on in.”

You took a cautious step forward entering his home. Hannibal closed the door behind you. 

“Come there are some people I want you to meet.”

He placed his palm on your back guiding you around the room. You were used to Will doing that when he was around you but it felt different with Hannibal. There was something arousing about the feeling of his bare skin on yours. You welcomed the feeling, moving across the room full of people with ease. Hannibal didn’t leave your side the entire party. Whenever he needed to do something he’d ofer his forearm to you, a silent request for you to join him. You laughed along with his friends and filled yourself up with the vast variety of food Hannibal had prepared. 

As the night went on people began to leave. They’d thank Hannibal for the invitation and go on their way. Oftentimes they’d thank you for hosting as well and you simply didn’t have it in you to correct them. You understood that the way you behaved with Hannibal made it seem like you were an item and even though you knew it was wrong you felt a thrill at the thought.

You finished saying goodbye to the last few people left at the party, closing the door behind you. Once you made sure it was locked you made your way over to the kitchen. Hannibal stood before the counter, his hands working on drying a glass of wine. His head snapped up at the sound of your heels against the floor. You smiled at him, making your way to where he was. 

“Need help?”

“No that's alright. There are only a few left.”

“Okay”

You turned to look at the clock seeing the time.

“It’s already that late? I should probably get going.”

You didn’t want to leave but you knew better than to overstep. Hannibal hadn't invited you to stay over. He'd invited you to the dinner party and that had already ended. Hannibal placed the glass in the cupboard before turning to look at you.

“Don’t go yet. There is something I want to show you.”

“Oh okay.”

“Go wait in the living room, I'll be there in a bit.”

You made your way over to the living room. Your feet were starting to hurt so you decided to take off your heels, leaving them by the couch. You walked around the room, making your way over to an odd looking instrument. You sat down on the bench in front of it, eyes moving over the instrument as you tried to understand what it was. 

“It’s a theremin.”

Your head snapped over to where Hannibal stood. He had removed his vest and suit jacket leaving him in only his dress shirt. 

“How do you play it?”

Hannibal made his way to you. You looked up at him when he stopped next to were you sat.

“May i?”

“Yeah of course.”

Hannibal moved to sit behind you. You sucked in a breath at the feeling of his chest against your back.

“It’s a difficult instrument. You must find the right pitch.”

You watched Hannibal move his hand over the empty air, a small gasp leaving your lips as sound began to come out of the instrument. Hannibal turned to look at you. His heart warmed at the smile that had spread over your face. 

“Would you like to try?”

“Oh sure.”

“Give me your hand.”

You lifted your arm allowing Hannibal to grasp your hand in his own.

“Relax your fingers. And try to keep your hand steady.”

You were finding it rather difficult to stop shaking due to the closeness you had to Hannibal. Every time he spoke you could feel his hot breath on your neck and your mind couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have his lips on your skin. Hannibal guided you hand with his. Sound filled the room once more but it wasn’t as nice sounding as when Hannibal had played himself.

“This is hard.”

“It is. The theremin requires a lot of practice. You have to be good with your hands.”

You wondered if he’d meant the innuendo or if he was simply talking and your diary mind had understood something else but you weren't about to waste your opportunity.

“You must have quite skilled hands then Hannibal.”

“I haven’t had any complaints yet.”

A small whine escaped your mouth, immediately followed by a pathetic sigh of Hannibal's name. HIs hand had found its way to your thigh, fingers drawing small shapes on the skin. Instinctively your body relaxed into his frame, your back pressing up against his chest. Hannibal's hand continued to travel down your thigh moving closer and closer to where you wanted him most. His lips found their way to your neck placing kisses to the skin. Your head moved to the side, offering up more of your neck up to him. He sucked a hickey onto you, marking you as his. 

“The body is a lot like a theremin.”

Your body jolted forward as his fingers found their way to your pussy. He reached into your underwear, slender fingers moving against your folds. You reached for his thigh hands wrapping around it in desperation. 

“You just have to find the right pitch to make someone-” 

A moan ripped through your body as he entered his fingers into you. 

“Sing.”

Your legs widened, allowing Hannibal to move with more freedom. His fingers moved into you at a slow pace. If it weren't for the pleasure he was bringing you you would almost think he was trying to torture you. Your free hand found its way to his cheek forcing him to turn to look at you. You place your forehead against his, panting as his thumb found your clit.

Hannibal watched your brows furrow as your eyes rolled back in your head for a second, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. He adored you like this. Completely wrapped around his finger.  Your nose bumped against his as you moved to kiss him. His lips welcomed you with ease, mouth opening to let your tongue in. Your muscle moved against his as he continued to pleasure you with his hands. You disconnected your lips from Hannibal, a small string of spit continuing to connect him to you. You were starting to get closer to your orgasm and Hannibal could tell. Your hand latched onto his shoulder, nails digging into the skin beneath his shirt. He kept his face close to yours as he continued to work on making you cum. Your breath fanned over his nose as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Your hips bucked up into Hannibal's hand searching for the last bit of friction you needed. With a skilled move of his thumb over your clit Hannibal had you cumming on his fingers. Your body spasmed against him, head falling onto his shoulder as white flashed over your vision.  

Hannibal watches your chest rise and fall rapidly as you float back to consciousness. He removes his fingers from your pussy guiding them to your lips. You open your mouth to him, sucking on his digits eagerly. Your eyes snapped open as he removed his fingers from your mouth, placing them inside his own for a moment before releasing them with a pop. You look at him dumbly, your mind completely fogged from your orgasm. Hannibal guides his hand to wrap around your face. You allow him to crash his lips onto yours, your body molding into him once again. It's then that you feel the hardness of him against you.

The feeling of his arousal sends a shock wave into your body making you come back to reality completely. You break the kiss, maneuvering your body so that you're facing Hannibal. You lift your body placing your thighs against his, forcing him to close his legs. You gaze down at him as you move to straddle him, your hand moving to his zipper. Hannibal continues to look up at you as you relive his dick of its confines. A pleased sound makes its way out of your throat at the sight of him. Your free hand moves to your pussy, tugging your soaked underwear to the side. You inch yourself down onto Hannibal's dick, watching his face scrunch up at the feeling of you.  His hands find your hips, his impatience causing him to tug you down onto his dick in one go. You gasp at the stretch hands moving to grasp onto his shoulders. 

“Fuck hannibal.”

“Feel so good dear. So perfect around me.”

You lift your hips slowly before bringing them back down. You try to start off slow but pretty soon your desperation gets a hold of you. Your hands move to Hannibal's neck, arms wrapping around him. Hannibal presses his face against your chest, his own arms moving to wrap around you. His hips move up, fucking into you. You try to help him as best you can but your thighs are already starting to hurt from being in this position too long. It doesn't seem like Hannibal minds though. In fact once he notices you’re giving your body up to him he seems to find some super strength because before you know it he’s ramming into you.

Your body bounces against his as he guides you up and down on his dick. You release his neck moving your hands to rest on his thighs. The new angle allows him to move against you with more ease causing him to speed up. Before you can even tell him you’re close you’re already gushing around him. Hannibal grunts as his cum paints your walls, his hand moving to rest against your chest. Your fingers move over his hair as he regains his breath, face still pressed against you. 

Hannibal lifts his head allowing him to look at you. You have lipstick smeared all over your face and your hair is all tangled but your face holds a look of pure unfiltered joy. Hannibal grins up at you, his hands moving to cup your cheek before pulling you into a tender kiss. You let out a satisfied hum against his lips. He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours.

“Sleep here tonight.”

“Okay.”

You wake the next morning to the sound of the door bell. You groan, lifting your head from Hannibal's neck to look at the time.

“Who the hell is at your house this early on a sunday?”

“Shh go back to bed. They’ll leave soon.”

You snuggle back into Hannibal  allowing him to tug you closer. Sleep starts to take over your mind just as the doorbell rings again causing you to let out another groan. 

“I should see who it is.”

“Yeah and tell them to fuck of while you’re at it.”

Hannibal chuckles at your words, kissing your cheek before moving to get out of bed. You lift yourself up wrapping the sheets around your bare body as you watch Hannibal tug a sweater over his head. 

“Stay there dear. I’ll be right back.”

You nod at him watching him leave the room. He left the bedroom door open allowing you to hear him open the door.

“Jack, what are you doing here?”

Oh shit. 

You scramble out of bed tugging on one of Hannibal's sweaters before searching the ground for your underwear. You almost fall over as you try to put it on but you manage to do so without causing an accident. You pad through the house barefoot making your way to the front door. 

“Good morning. Sorry to wake you up so early but we have a case that we need help with. Will said you-”

Jack's eyes caught sight of you standing in the corner. Hannibal seemed to notice the shift in Jack's attention causing him to look in the direction he was staring at. Hannibal's eyes fell on your frame observing the way his sweater looked on you. You looked at him, your hands fiddling with each other. 

“Is everything okay?”

Hannibal stuck his hand out to you inviting you to come over. You made your way to them allowing Hannibal to pull to him. He placed a kiss on your temple.

“Hi Jack.”

“Hello rookie. I didn’t know you knew Hannibal.”

“Will introduced us.”

“He knows you’re here?”

“No. Why?”

“He called me yesterday. Said you weren’t home. And that you didn’t pick up your phone.”

“Is that why you came?”

“Oh no. We have a murder we need Hannibal to help with.”

“Okay. I’ll come too.”

Jack gave you a look of surprise. 

“You aren’t ready for the field, rookie.”

“And Will is?”

Jack opened his mouth to counter you but he knew better. He knew you were close with Will so he knew that Will had told him of all the shit he'd been through because of the FBI. Plus he knew you were famous for your stubbornness and he really didn’t feel like dealing with it right now.

“Fine. Go get ready. Both of you.”

With that Jack exited the house moving to grab his phone out of his pocket. He dialed Will's number. The phone rang twice before he picked up.

“I got Hannibal. We are going to the crime scene now.”

“Okay i’ll be there in a few.”

“Oh and I found your friend. You’ll never guess where.”

Will didn’t even need Jack to finish his phrase to know where you were. Anger bubbled into his body again. He’d have to have a talk with Hannibal about professional boundaries.

[vatelixx]

The visionary, the willing executor,

Spencer Reid x afab!UNSUB!reader (written with mid!seasons Spencer Reid in mind)

SMUT!! copious amounts of angst (there’s traces of fluff in there as well if u get out ur magnifying glass)

BASED ON THIS SONG (it got so stuck in my head that I had to write something that correlated):

──── autistic spencer (it’s not explored that much, but it’s always gonna be present in my oneshots), evil evil reader (im not being dramatic this time. she’s literally a serial killer. like her ‘body count’ is copious. but idk, she’s kinda sweet. if u squint and ignore the bodies). They were in love ur honour !!! they’re still in love ur honour !!!! She pays him a visit two years after he found out about her homicidal tendencies (they miss each other, Spencer might also hate her a little but it’s okay, don’t worry about that).

Warnings: sub spencer (aaaaaaalways), maybe perhaps some vague, very faint mentions of switch!spencer but idk i blacked out writing this, choking, mentions of death and general behaviour that would get you a life sentence, praise more than degradation surprisingly, coming untouched, crying (you’d think that was a kink or something?), she fucks the good out of him, hopeful ending (eh, kinda), mentions of dante’s inferno, copious amounts of religious imagery, greek mythology references, this isn’t dead dove at all i promise.

w.c: 5k

────────────

Spencer would consider himself a good person, by default. It’s reasonable: a renowned member of the BAU, with intellect he’s weaponized for morality. The blood etched onto his hands is justified. Necessary evil for greater cause. He’s willing to blemish his skin for the virtue, for the lives of others.

He remembers naivety. He remembers being so fragile he could easily crack into fragmented pieces of wasted innocence. Maybe that’s been stolen from him now, maybe the ruins of his sacrifices are too sharp to touch upon still, but he’s good. He knows he will always be good.

And yet, there’s a bruise. Something ugly and distorted that stains his skin. Something that has the ability to crawl deep into his bones and leave behind a mess of pain. Something bad. Festering and tainted, it haunts him with every breath.

You.

You, who came into his life as an abundance of sunlight. Helios personified. Pretty and warm, and everything he needed. He wanted to kiss you: the moment he stumbled into the coffee shop, tousled hair, overworked and raw from a burdening case. When you took his order, marking constellations onto the styrofoam cup. Andromeda, Ursa Major, Cassiopeia. Later, much later, then when you became an indomitable presence to his apartment.

But for all the good he’s preserved, Spencer knows he’s not allowed to receive it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” is the first thing he says when he finds you waiting for him. He always knew you would come back; you’re bound to follow him indefinitely. Like his shadow, his guilty consciousness, his cracked past of addiction and pre-pubescent torment.

He let you go. When the act was over, the curtain drawn, when he saw you. Homicidal, the perpetrator of the case he was working on, malevolence packed into the frame of perfection, oh even still, he let you go. Free to continue the cycle of death, he was left to scramble in the mess of his own misguided heart.

There’s risk in reward, and reward in risk. You’re meticulous, hedonistic to the last detail. But Spencer? Well, he will always be the one loose end you could never quite force yourself to clean up. The thread that kept untangling, even as time passed. Cut it off, you should be rational, wash every bleeding trace of him from your skin.

But there’s irrationality in love.

Blood adorns your features; there’s no need to touch up your appearance, to return to the domesticated facade you once used on him. No, he’s been exposed to the ugly now. There can be no do overs, no back-tracking, game over try again doesn’t exist in real time.

“What are you going to do about it?” you ask, and god, hes just as beautiful as the day you left him. So perfectly real, with dragging exhaustion and pretty brown eyes to ease the sting of his tight-faced, troubled expression.

You didn’t cut the phone lines, nor move the gun he keeps stashed in his cabinet drawer. Down the hall, to the left. You know he won’t make any abrupt actions. Know, in an intuitive way, telepathic communication between past lovers.

“It was a gamble coming here, aren’t you pleased to see me pretty boy?”

Spencer has to fight every urge he has, every moral he believes in to not lunge at you; to not strangle your slender neck, crack you in half, destroy you the way you’ve destroyed his sanity.

Two years, 8 months, 11 days since you cataclysmically uprooted his routined life. He fell in love with softness, not the jagged edge of a blade.

“I let you go. Wasn’t that enough?” it feels too natural, fighting in his apartment, some sort of twisted lovers quarrel. There’s a definite list of everything he should do in this moment, and despite all logic, he just blanks at the sight of you.

“You had to come back. Rub salt in the wound. Do you get off on this?” a sigh falls from his pretty lips, “Actually, don’t— don’t answer that. We both know the answer.”

“I get off on you,” you correct.

It’s true. If he was to analyse you, profile your warped brain like his other unsubs, he’d find nothing but unyielding loyalty to him. For all the damage you’ve done, there’s always been one anomaly to your detachment.

He stands right before you.

And, sure, maybe you’ve got a leg up in this situation. Perhaps the distorted memory of you holds him back: lazy nights and tangled sheets, his body pressed up against yours. The way he’d talk, quantum physics, philosophy, rambles that dissolved into open admissions of feelings. There’s a lot that was fake, but to be a good liar, you have to add subsidiary details of truth.

God, he wishes the world would be cruel—a cosmic alignment of karmic righteousness that would grant him relief: some kind of justification for what he must do. But the universe is indifferent, nothing but a distant star, a fleeting speck of dust in the grand scheme of life. There’s no such thing as good or bad, only consequences.

Consequences. Consequences for his actions. Butterfly effect. He can comprehend it. But, there were many things he adored about you, while the illusion of love was tangible. The way your hair would curl just above your shoulders, your skin in the morning light. The way you’d laugh at one of his obscure Star Trek references, better yet his criticism on modern, inaccurate horror. He could stare at you for eons, as though he was trying to make out the secrets of the universe in the constellation lines of your scars.

The illusion of love, as it was. He sees you now with the clarity of reality, the same way a mirage fades away as you approach; a distortion of perception.

“And you get off on me. Even now. Don’t you?” you say, shifting forward to close gravitational space.

There’s no way to disregard this morbid connection. No psychological justification he can exploit to demean your feelings. You’re not a psychopath, nor anything that relates to a lack of empathy. You feel— you feel empathy for all of your victims, the line of bodies that mark your path. But it goes deeper than that. There was reasoning for your actions, just as there was for his.

“Say it,” you goad. And there’s satisfaction here, sure. Something mean and condescending. But there’s also hurt, because he was supposed to be a means to an end, and now, he might very well be your end.

“Say you miss me. C’mon boy genius, a few little words and i’ll have enough content to satisfy me for years. Don’t be mean— you know I hate being edged.”

He does miss you, every day that he wakes up, his bones too hollow and cold to leave his bed. The ache in his chest where his heart was supposed to be, too empty to function. No amount of caffeine can fill the void in his skull where thoughts of you used to reside. The longing, the desire for the past to rewrite itself.

“You’re sick,” he tries. But he’s not good at this. Not when the love remained after the inevitable fall out, not when the darkest parts of him still clung to want, even after he realised the truth.

“You’re sick, and..” he tries again, “and I hate how much I miss you. There? Is that enough? Are you happy? Got what you wanted?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “No. If I ‘got what I wanted’, I would still have you.”

Spencer dies. Metaphorically, literally, what does it even matter? He dies, respawns, and then kisses the admittance from your lips.

Instinctively, just like the past, your hands tangle through his hair, and perhaps there’s a sense of ownership to the gesture. The knowledge that he will always be yours. Scarred from your touch, returning to your lips like a dog with a bird. There’s a mindless attempt at anger on his part, biting lips and rough teeth, but just like always, he quickly melts.

He melts, and you catch him. Because for all it’s worth, lies and deceit aside, you’ve always loved him.

There’s something powerful to the gesture; knowing you have someone wrapped around your finger. Even after you’ve bared the worst of you, the ugliness of man-kind. There’s someone out there that will wipe the blood from your cheek, and kiss you through it.

“Oh, even better,” you mutter against his lips, “Much, much better. C’mon Spence, show me just how much you’ve missed me.”

Two years, 8 months, 11 days since he felt like he could breathe.

It hurts, it hurts so much, because there’s a sense of coming home to the kiss, and he just wants you to stay. To ruin him forever. To leave behind a deformed version of him, something unrecognisable and equally scarring.

You’re too loyal and he’s too susceptible to any form of attention. Because you want him, and it’s easy to fall into a cyclical cycle of self-destruction when you’re the catalyst.

“I did miss you.” he admits again. “You— crazy, homicidal excuse of a person.”

Spencer’s hand comes up to touch your cheek, the rough texture of skin meeting something soft. His thumb traces down the curvature of your jawline, a silent hello that doesn’t linger long, too soon to be replaced with his lips.

You push him back against the wall, a painful groan escaping your lips when you feel his hips canting forward, searching aimlessly for a friction you’ve both been denied. Two years. His body still aches for you. It’s primal, something perverted and tainted and so very good.

You knew this would happen. There was not a doubt in your clouded mind that he would deny you. What you do to me, I do to you.

“There’s my boy.” you mutter when you grip said hips, fingers finding their natural, fated position against divine bone. When he begins to find a stable pace, bucking up to meet you with every kiss that you press to his lips.

He whimpers when you touch him, soft sounds of need slipping past his parted lips into the confines of his empty apartment. He’s trying so hard to maintain composure, but he can’t find it in him to fight the inevitable. The ache of separation between himself and you. So he lets it happen, like he always does.

My boy, the possession goes straight to his head. One simple phrase and he’s untangling, breaking to pieces because yes, he is yours. And yes, he will forever want to be reminded.

“Mhm, mhm. Oh— oh, fuck.” he’s so hard, clothed cock pushing up against you with every movement. He could get off on less of you. He has. Every night.

And yes, it certainly feels like home. It’s only the thing your body has been aimlessly yearning for, day in and day out. It’s not fair, not fair to you, that you’ve allowed your resolve to crumble, your strategic, one-track mind, for the fleeting body of a past lover.

But then again, demeaning him to a past lover doesn’t even begin to articulate this.

You’re fairly certain he was put on this earth, just to torment you.

And you’re fairly certain you’ll always let him.

“God, you’re such a slut for me.” you say, drawing back from the friction just to prove your point. The disintegrating whimpers that bleed out of his mouth in response are enough alone to confirm.

His head falls back against the wall, baring that lovely length of his neck and its pretty bruises. He wants you to kiss him there, to leave one last mark before he says ‘I won’t see you again’ and means it this time.

“Don’t— don’t stop—” even as he speaks, a mess of jumbled words and breathless sentences, you’re still teasing him. He hates how much it works, how much he’d rather fall into the pleasure of your hands.

“Fine. Whatever. Yes. What do you want to hear? That it’s whorish the way I want you. That you’re able to just… corrupt me with all these dirty words, even though I have an extensive vocabulary. Even though i’m supposed to be—“

He’s not even sure what he’s supposed to be anymore.

“You know the extent of my devotion.” he concedes.

There will always be sadistic pleasure in reducing him to such an ignominious version of himself. You’ve seen it before, back when you were trapped in an artificial, yet domesticated, haze of bliss. But to hear it now? Even after everything has been said and done?

That’s a new type of pleasure.

You know he still holds onto the facade of you, aimlessly reaching for something intangible, something that never truly existed. “You want me to be good for you, huh? Just pack up my shit, leave it all behind, get better? Think about it. White picket fence. Coffee every morning. God— it would be insufferable. Coming home to feed the dogs, talking every night over the phone, begging you to be safe on a case, or or—“

Spencer breaks. Silencing your words with a pained whimper.

Usually, he doesn’t allow himself to think about that fantastical hypothetic. He can’t afford to. Months after he let you go, when the truth had been exposed to his naive eyes, he’d spend hours in a mess of aching limbs, dreaming up alternative realities where your hands weren’t stained from blood, and the most despicable thing you could do was make his coffee bitter.

So when you force him to open old wounds, to rehash past hopes, he falls apart. A whine escapes his lips, hips bucking, once, twice and then he’s coming untouched. Making a mess out of himself— and it’s sick, so very sick to get off on the thought of you permanent, the epitome of good.

Something he could hold onto without slicing open skin.

It’s not a good orgasm, it never is without your direct help, but at least it’s some form of release. In the aftermath, he blinks away tears, vaguely aware of the cum staining his boxers, creating damp spots through fabric.

There’s something painful, cutting to your gaze when you look at him. At the debauched sight, corrupted from just a few words.

Give it all up? For what? Him?

All things considered, it’s tempting.

“Spencer,” you mutter in the serrated moments between. When he’s still nebulous, caught in the aftershocks of abrupt pleasure. When he’s just gotten off, untouched, on the notion of a domesticated life with you.

He’s struggling to breathe. He’s spent nights gasping for you, reduced to the most debasing version of himself. So out of touch, you drove a blade through his back, catching his heart on the way.

“Why are you— doing this?” he asks, but before you can even answer, provide him with an explanation that will devastate, he’s lunging forward, kissing the lies that cling to your lips. Kissing you because his mouth hurts when it’s not attached to yours.

“One last time.” he says; he’s too intelligent, too intellectually adept, to allow this swallowing cycle of humiliation to continue.

But, underneath it all, he’s also inherently selfish for you. He’s fairly certain you were engrained into his skin, long before he fell into your barbed trap, teeth and penetrative ruin.

“Then you leave. You actually leave, never contact me again. No showing up at my apartment unprovoked. I have a good life without you. Understood?”

You scoff. He presses forward, “Understood?”

You don’t protest when he elucidates his life as good. Even if it’s quite the contrary. Even if he has to bare witness to depravity every single day, scrutinise his way through the minds of the most perverse. Perhaps this is a social experiment to him, perhaps you are the guinea pig, Laika sentenced to space. You know he loved you once, but it’s hard to comprehend the feelings remained unscarred, it’s hard to imagine you’re anything but a test subject now.

You look at him. Look at that pretty face. Your undoing. He could be your achilles heel, hamartia in its rawest form, or maybe you willingly chose to do this. Maybe fate, and divine intervention played no part in your attachment to him. Maybe it’s just chemicals. The logics explanation. Imbalanced, skewed chemicals.

“Don’t worry, boy genius.” you respond, “You won’t get anything, not even a postcard, from me. It’ll be like I never even existed.” no trace. D.C has always been a monotone cesspit of nothing anyway.

It’s cruel. Because if you leave, truly leave. And he never hears from you again, never catches you in his kitchen, drinking coffee with an unadulterated smile, then he will begin to forget.

The curve of your spine, the scars beneath your chest, the way your fingers fit into his own. The way he was able to memorise your body until he could draw it in the dark, when your body was pressed to his, when there was nothing but a false establishment of safety.

He knows he can’t forget. Not technically. But it’ll grow distant, it’ll be replaced with new normals and routines. That, that, he can’t compute.

“Good,” he says, kissing you again, kissing you because this is it.

Spencer wants you. In every sense of the word, he wants you so badly it’s killing him.

His bedroom still holds traces of you. That, itself, is a crime. But he just falls into you. The way lovers do. Your hands against his skin— his hair threaded through your fingers, your lips at the base of his neck. He lets you leave another bruise, a mark, a confirmation of possession, because even if this is the last time, he is, and always will be yours.

“Still the prettiest person i’ve ever seen,” you admit when he’s flushed naked beneath you.

There’s something in those doe-eyes, brown irises blown out of proportion, that hooked you. Even at the worst, it was still soft with him.

Slender frame, slightly arched, you want to bite into his hips, mark every inch of him as yours. It’s greedy, gluttonous, his messy hair, fanning out like a halo, the tangled curls he never bothers to properly care for.

“God, fucking look at you,” you grip his jaw, tilt his head back to bare that blemished neck of his. To have and to own. He’s so inexplicably different to you, so good it runs down to the bone. And maybe you’ve always been insatiable for what you’ve lacked.

He can’t take this. He can’t, not again. The past, the future will have to dissolve with this moment, because there will never be another again.

You will never get this close to him. It’s a terrifying thought, that this’ll be the standard of intimacy, of love - because he knows it isn’t. But he can’t risk the reality he’s faced with, the reality of living without this. Of living without you.

Your words only make it worse. He wants to beg you to stop. To cease the torture.

“Shut up.” He kisses you, as if to remind you that your mouth is made for kissing, for his lips, for a litany of dirty words that he can’t bear to hear. Those words are for someone else. For someone similar. Not him. Never him.

Defying fate. He gets off on being something bad beneath the surface. No one would ever expect it; boyish maladroit Spencer, the youngest of the team, willingly allowing, condoning, a killer to sink into his skin.

“Don’t tell me to shut up,” you respond, muffled against his lips. “If this is the last time, i’m going to enjoy it. Going to enjoy the sight of you, all desperate for me alone.”

“You assume i’ve ever been desperate for anyone else—“ he counters.

“Oh, that’s it. Keep talking dirty to me.”

“It’s not dirty. It’s a factual statement.”

You pull away, a trail of saliva bridging the space between your mouths. If there is higher power at play here, you want to curse, to spite your creator. Because if ‘things’ had been different, if you had been born from the same rib, this could’ve ended differently.

Or for that matter, never ended at all.

“Sit there and watch me.” you say, and Spencer hates the way he obliges. Pushing himself up against the headboard, he stares at you, at the way you position yourself, standing by the foot of the bed.

“Do you even know what you do to me? Do you even understand the gravity your existence has on me?” you continue, unfastening the lace corset that clings to your frame. When it drops to the floor, breasts exposed, you run your hands across them, catching pierced nipples for a vindictive moment of pleasure.

“I�� uh,” Spencer is admittedly a little distracted. Sex had always been something ruinous between you two. Something that conflicted his lack of experience, forced him to adapt.

He always wondered how someone so soft, the epitome of light, could be this obscene. Now he understands.

“Lost your words? Come on, pretty boy. I thought you had an ‘extensive vocabulary?’ Hm?”

He wants to touch himself, to ease the pulsing throb that centres in his cock. But he doesn’t, because despite the time that has passed, he still knows your rules. “Don’t use my words against me. I’m being tortured.”

“Tortured, huh?” your hands fumble over buttons until you’re reduced to a pair of panties, soaked throughly, leaving scarce to the imagination.

“So so tortured. Oh my god, who are you? Can I please have my soul back?” he’s joking, but not really.

“Well maybe if you beg for it,” your words fade into a mess of moans, fingers slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. Spencer’s head spills back against the wall; he looks more affected by the movements than you.

It’s easy to fall back into old habits. Relapse.

“Come here, come here, i’m having an existential crisis.” he says, watching as you slip one finger, then two inside you, struggling to stand now. It’s strange how pleasure can reduce the most antagonising minds to vulnerability.

“Please— oh fuck, please. Please. Don’t make me watch, I can’t. Need you. Need you so bad.”

He thought he found the core of torture in you touching yourself, but he was wrong. Because when you crawl closer, when you slot yourself between his thighs, lips finding skin that only you have ever touched, he sees the root of evil in his brain. The ninth circle of hell.

It’s justified, he supposes. For all the good he’s done, he has betrayed. Himself, his friends, family, existence itself. There is not one thing he wouldn’t ruin, just to feel you. It’s incriminating, so yes, he deserves to freeze in Cocytus. He’ll willingly plead guilty, accept his entrapment in the ring of Caina.

“Poor baby, look at you.” you say, kissing his tip, catching the pre-cum on your tongue. Spencer responds: fisting bedsheets, fighting the restraint to buck forward, to find misplaced solace in the warmth of your mouth. He’s sprawled out across sheets now, lying back in a tangled heap of want. “Shh, it’s okay,” you continue, “I like my men desperate.”

“Desperate? Ah—,” he fights the urge to shut his eyes, too aware that this is the last memory he will ever retain of you.

You, painted into his mind. The final evidence left in the fire: mouth sinking down his length, taking him to the hilt, watery eyes and leaking mascara.

“This isn’t even desperation. You’re killing me. Just, oh oh— please, don’t. ‘M gonna cum. Gonna cum—“

Is it sick that he doesn’t want to? If only to prolong this transitory moment of destruction? Like the lotus eaters, he will always be mindless in the pursuit of more, more, more of you.

You draw back from his cock, only to press a soft kiss against the tip. The gesture alone has him reeling, has him begging to be saved, to atone for every sin he found in the comfort of your divinely crafted lips.

“Gonna let me sit on that pretty cock of yours, hm? Let me use you one last time? Promise i’ll be good,” a lie, “So so good.”

“God, yes. Yes, please. That would—“ You take him deep, deep enough that everything aches. He only feels alive when you’re wrapped around him, when there’s not an ounce of distance between your bodies, when he can touch the insides of you. Pry open the raw, unfiltered version of you.

He only feels alive when he’s sunk inside the harbinger of death. He’d laugh if it didn’t hurt.

You’ve got one hand tangled in your hair, the other pressed flat against his waist, supporting you through each bump of movement. Eyes like marbles, Spencer looks up, and wonders why this will never be enough for you.

You look back, meet his gaze, as if you’re Orpheus, predestined to turn around, to always return. Even if it’s just for one last second. Even if the fall-out is so much worse than pushing forward blindly.

Oh, hes certain you’re carving a hole inside him, something that will only grow and expand, imploring to be filled by it’s inventor. It’ll hurt, for the rest of time, he supposes.

When he finds your hand around his neck, he isn’t startled. Neither, when your thumb presses against his throat, applying pressure until the world cracks and fades, distorting his refined mind to the here and now. He floats, feeling transient in the curse of your touch.

“That’s it. Just let go. I’ve got you.”

He is a sacrificial lamb. The priests favourite. He will take the knife every time, and thank you for it after.

You release the tension, hand taking his instead. For all the cruelty you possess, you’d never think to harm him. Not physically at least. The emotional damage, however, finds you both. There can be no happiness in either of your worlds, not when the memory of each other festers. “Good boy— taking it so well. God, no one is ever gonna compare.”

He cries at the words. Pretty tears streaming down his face, because the reciprocation to his undying piety will forever trigger the warped chemicals in his brain. Will forever reduce him to something saccharine.

“Love you. Love you so much. Don’t go. Please,” he fractures, “please don’t go.” he begs, besmirched words he’ll regret in the wake of his pleasure. They don’t count, and yet, he knows, in the most depraved sections of his mind, they’re true.

You ride him harder. Back curved, finding god in the washed-out body of someone fatally destroyed. “Not going anywhere— fuck, fuckfuckfuck. That feels so good. You’re so good,” maybe it’s a kink to ruin something so perfectly spotless.

Maybe it’s a kink that he wants it.

“Say it. God, just say it. This once.” for old times sake, he almost adds. But that wouldn’t be objectively correct. For all the intimacy you shared, you never once articulated those three words. Perhaps it was to save your dignity, to hold pieces of yourself in the lies you beautifully crafted.

His thumb runs over your clit, and in the tangle of your orgasm, he almost thinks you forget about his demand. But after, when you’re still taking him, when you’re still clenching, unclenching, clenching around his cock, when you know you own every part of him, you answer.

“I love you.”

He falls apart. Hips canting, body squirming, whimper after whimper escaping his bruised lips as he releases inside of you. Pushed deep, defiled to the limit. For a moment, everything is okay, everything will be alright, because there’s pleasure, and it’s you. It’s always you.

How can he justify falling in love with you again? How can he, when he still clings onto the artificial love of the past? He’s not sure his heart can handle one set of feelings, nevermind two.

He takes you again, well… mostly you take him again. In ways that have him polluted with the remnants of your teeth. Canine marks, etched deep enough to bleed. He hopes the swelling leaves behind perennial scars, anything to remind him. Anything to hold onto when you’re gone and it’s cold.

After, when you lie together, he presses his forehead against yours and wishes he was in any other universe. One where you’re happy. Where everything is pure and simple, clean from sin.

There was always truth in what we shared before, you admit. Lazy nights spent draped over the couch, kissing him to silence convoluted rambles. Your presence in the morning, bathed in holy glow, sunlight bleeding over the pretty sight of you. The first night he touched you and saw god. And then the following night, when he ascended all over again.

He wakes to find no body. He wakes to find nothing. It feels like self-sabotage, the promise that you would leave, even if it’s quite the contrary.

In the absence, abstinence of your presence, he discovers traces of you in everything he sees, all of it, everything consumed, returning to the simple thought of you you you.

When the first postcard comes, Portland, dreary weather— beaches and ports, there’s no anger. No exasperation that you broke your word.

You love him, it’s morbid, but for someone like him, it overrules everything. Sanity, dignity, his own stable existence.

You overrule everything.

[luvhyukai]

bartender||han jisung x you||mdni

pairings: bartender!jisung x fempoc!reader

synopsis: you go to the same bar every night, served by the same bartender, you get jelly of another lady but little did you know that bartender man was only for you.

warnings: s m u t, strangers to lovers au, slowish burn, unprotected sex , mentions of drinking, use of petnames, slight orgasm denial(m and f), slight jealousy, slight angst, multiple orgasm (f), oral (m and f), pull out method, mention of masturbation, ji has a small obsession with u, lmk if i missed anything.

a/n: this is heavily influenced by the song “dream of you” by chungha. so i would recommend listening while reading! also thanks for all the likes and follows! enjoy ;) lowercase intended

story under the cut :)

ever since your break up with your ex, you havent failed to hit up the same bar everyday after work. the sweet, fruity and spicy alcoholic taste of whiskey seems to blow the stress of life right off your shoulders, it makes you forget about deadlines, the weight of your heart break, the weight of life. it makes you feel light, it relaxes you.

today was no different. you go to the same bar and order your drink. the bartender hands you the drink and makes the usual small talk. bless him, he can tell that life has been crushing you lately. “rough day?” he asks. “yeah man, life has gone to shit for me.” you replied. “‘m sorry about that honey, but let me know if you need a refill, just dont drink too much.” he said as he winked and walked away.

maybe its the liquor or maybe you didnt notice before, but ‘damn’ you think ‘hes so fucking fine.’ all the times youve come here, he serves you, but you never asked him for his name. you didnt wanna come off as a creep or anything, youre sure many people have asked him for his name. for some reason, he doesnt wear a nametag. fuck it, “excuse me bartender.” you said suddenly. he wasnt too far away from you, just a couple customers away. he motions you to wait while he finishes with a customer.

“hi, did you want a refill?” he asked. “uh…no…um…dont take this the wrong way..but youve been serving me for a while and i never got a name.” you said. he looked at you and smiled. “how rude of me. my name is jisung!” he said and extended his arm for a handshake. “oh no i shouldve asked you. but im [reader], nice to meet you!” you said as you shook his hand profusely. he stood there for a minute, looking at you. you were looking at him. truly taking in his features. the way his glasses sat on his beautifully sculpted face. the way his uniform sorta hugged his slim figure, he was actually breathtaking.

you wouldnt be surprised if he had a girlfriend. you would be surprised if he didnt. “excuse me bartender.” a lady called. you didnt even notice you were holding his hand at that point until he smiled, briefly squeezed your hand and walked away. his hands were soft. you followed him with your eyes, you seen the lady who called for him. she wasnt all that cute. her hair was nice and neat, her outfit was formal and classy, she looked like the business class.

she was looking at him with eyes full of lust, she was flirting with him. you could tell she was really flustering him because you could hear his small giggling. she looked over at you and smirked. the hell is wrong with her? what is she trying to prove? why are you getting upset about it? jisung isnt yours, and he for damn sure isnt hers either. before you could even get to that point, you asked him to close your tab and you left.

you sat in your car for a second to be sure you werent too fucked up to drive, you took a deep breathe and looked out the window. tonight was beautiful. lightly raining, and chilly. your mind started to drift back to the moment you learned his name. his voice kept traveling in your mind. it brought a small smile to your face, it warmed your heart a little. just then, you seen the same woman walk out, jisung following behind her, he gets into her car and they leave.

“the fuck?” you said in utter disbelief. you decided not to think too much of it and went home.

the next evening, youre back at the bar. same bartender, same everything. “[reader] the usual?” said jisung. you nodded and he got your drink ready. “you doing alright?” he asked. you nodded your head once more. he looked at you confused, you normally talk to him. you always talk to him, whats with the cold shoulder? he set your drink down, and you took it. everything that happened last night, the small anger you felt, it all came rushing back. and instead of taking your small sips, you down the whole thing. slamming the cup back down and catching some peoples attention. it caught the attention of jisung.

now he knew something was up. “[reader] you are not okay. whats going on with you?” jisung said with concern lacing his voice. “i am fucking fine. aint shit wrong with me. now another one please.” you said. youre also slightly tipsy. he looks more concerned now but still gives you another one. it felt like life was still crumbling down on you. so to numb it, you downed one shot, two shots, four shots, “thats enough [reader], i legally cannot serve you anymore drinks.” jisung said. “bullshit, this is bullshit. im fucking—outta here.” you said. you start getting hiccups now, you were also totally drunk.

“ill call a cab for you. your car will be here in the morning.” jisung said. “dont fuckin act like you care ab—about me. ji—jisung.” you said drunkenly. he looked at you with slight heartbreak. he does care about you. youre the reason why he works every night. he loves looking at you, admiring you. the day you unknowingly held his hand, he went home and masturbated with the same hand. “[reader], ill take you home instead. does anyone live with you that can make sure okay and also can pick your car up tonight?” he said. hes not supposed to take you home. he could lose his job over it. but he will do anything just to be close to you. “n—no” you hiccuped.

he sat you down in an isolated booth and finished the night. he served a few more people and then closed up shop. while he was doing this, you fell asleep. though he didnt wanna wake you, he had to at least get you standing up so he can help you walk to his car. “[reader]…..[reader]” he said while gently shaking you awake. you looked around to see the bar is empty. you looked at him with confusion. “hey, its time for me to take you home.” he said and smiled. you nodded as you rubbed your eyes and got up to walk. since you were still under the influence, you had some difficulty walking on your own. luckily jisung was next to you and ready to help you walk.

he helped you in his car, strapped you in, and began driving you home. “jisung.” you spoke. “yes [reader]?” he replied. “why are you doing this?” you said softly. “because i care about you. i care about your safety.” he said. sure it was the truth but it wasnt the whole truth. “if you cared, why did you go off with that ugly ass lady?” you asked. he grinned a bit. “she took me to her house, we made out but i told her i wasn’t interested in her. i told her i had my eyes on someone else.” he said. you went from being slumped over looking out the window to now sitting up and looking at him. “you did? what happened after that?” you asked invested. “she brought me back to the bar, i got in my own car and left.” he replied.

you eventually arrived at your home and he helped you in and helped you get settled. “ji?” you called. he looked at you. “can you stay the night with me? i dont want to be alone. i wanna be with you.” you said. he smiled softly and nodded. you both got into your bed and laid there. both of you are awake, both are scared to say something. “[reader], remember when i said that i told the lady i was interested in someone else?” he spoke. “yeah.” you answered. “well, ever since you came into the bar, ive been interested in you. i was too scared to introduce myself. after i learned that you were going through a break up, i tried to suppress my feelings and make sure i was there for you. im trying to say that i want you. i know you want me as well.” he said as he looked at you.

his words made you smile, “i do, want you.” you said as you looked at him and snuggled closer. he leaned a bit closer to your face, his breath fanning your face. you were the one who closed the gap and kissed him. it was one peck, then he came back and started to kiss you passionately. you climbed on top of him, not breaking the kiss. as the room started to get hot, you started to take off your shirt. him taking off his shirt revealing his slim but muscular body. jisung reached up and unclasped your bra straps. your bra fell down your body showing off your beautiful tits. he looked in awe.

he looked you in the eyes before taking one of your nipples and sucking on it. the other nipped was being teased by this free hand. you started to grind yourself on him to relieve some of the pressure. he groaned a bit as youre right on top of his cock. you threw your head back as he swirled his tongue over your sensitive nipple. he also started to rock his hips upwards to meet your pussy halfway. this causing both of you to moan softly. “i cant wait anymore ji.” you said needily. “okay baby, let me take care of you.” he said softly.

you climbed off him and laid on your back, jisung taking off your pants and then getting up to take off his. he laid down between your legs. “wow, so wet. and your pussy is so pretty. just like you baby girl.” he said as he looked up at you. it made you blush and subconsciously close your legs, but he caught them in time. he leaned in and licked it. a small teasing lick. you whined as you grew needier and needier for him. he heard your whines and stopped teasing. he began to really savor you by sucking on your clit. then dipping his tongue in and out of your hole. you moaned loudly as hes doing this to you. “that feel good?” he asked. “mmhm~” you replied not really able to say anything.

you started to rock you hips against his mouth and he started licking faster. you grabbed his hair and pushed his head into you for more. he giggled softly at this, the vibrations of it causing you to feel closer to your climax. “just like that—ah! just like that~” you screamed softly. he cooed into you again sending vibrations to your clit. you felt your high approaching quickly. as if his mouth wasnt enough, he took two fingers and fingered you quickly. this making your high wash over you. with a loud “fuck!~” you came hard.

your legs were shaking slightly from how intense it was. you sat up and kissed him deeply. tasting yourself made you moan. you pulled back. “your turn.” you smirked. he laid down and you sat between his legs. his fully erect dick was leaking some pre. you licked a fat stripe from the bottom of his dick to his pretty tip. he hissed at the sensation. you did that two or three times before you took his tip and started to suck on it. “oh goodness—oh go—that feels nice.” he whimpered. you smiled as you took his length all the way down. it took him by surprise and he subconsciously bucked his hips upwards. whatever didnt fit in your mouth, you took your hand and jerked it.

you bobbed your head and jerked him quickly, then slowly to tease. you kept that same pattern for about 5 minutes before he says “shit—baby..im gonna..’m cumming~”. you stopped before he could, he looked at you in amusement. “youre gonna regret that honey.” he chuckled. he flipped you over so you were on your back. he lined himself with you. “is this okay? we dont have to move on if you dont want to.” he said.

“im sure, i want this, i want you.” you moaned slightly. no more words were said as he slid himself into you. he was a couple inches bigger than your ex but he was definitely wider. the stretch making your toes curl. “oh my god baby, youre tight. its feels so good princess.” he moaned as he bottomed out. he stroked himself slowly in, slowly out. it was making your eyes roll back. you gripped his arm “faster, please ji. i need it…i need—it!” you moaned loudly as he sped up like you asked. he was knocking the wind from your lungs, it felt so good!

“i know you need it, you like how it feels? hm? you like how i fuck you?” he whispered in your ear. he reached his hand down and rubbed your clit. this made you closer quickly. “yes! yesyesyes—fuck im cumming!” you nearly screamed. he pulled out quickly and let you calm down. you frowned and whined. “told you, you’d regret not letting me cum.” he said. he turned you on your knees so you were in doggy position. he stroked himself a couple times before pushing himself back into you. jisung threw his head back and he rocked himself into you. he gripped your hips as he dragged you on and off his cock.

from this angle, you felt your climax about to hit again. maybe even harder than before. by this time, jisung was also close. his hips starting to lose rhythm and became sloppier by the seconds. “fuck [reader], youre gonna make me fuckin—cum!” he whined. you were so close to yours that you barely understood what he was saying. after a couple more hard thrusts of his hips, you were screaming and crying slightly as your orgasm hit you like a bus. he fucked you through your high. shortly after you he pulled out and started to stroke himself. “oh my god—im cumming…im cu—m’ gonna—fuck!” he moaned as he finished on your back.

after you both calmed down and cleaned up, he kissed you on the lips again. “im all yours baby, im all for you.” he said. you smiled as you let yourself drift back to sleep.

fin!

©️shewritesforpoc on tumblr !!

[littlexdeaths]

ꜱʏᴍᴘᴀᴛʜʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ - ᴇ.ᴍ.

demon kas x human eddie x fem hunter (supernatural au)

i found god, i found him in a lover.

when his hair falls in his face, and his hands so cold they shake…

i found the devil, i found him in a lover.

and his lips like tangerines, and his color coded speak…

warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI! established relationship, hate fucking, oral (fem receiving), unprotected piv sex, cream pie, mentions of blood, anything italicized is eddie’s inner dialogue to kas

word count: 3k

a/n: it’s me back again with another repost of an old fic. i also want to give a big shout out to my darling @undead-supernova for helping me edit multiple parts this fic. ily august 💕

You knew he was here.

From the smell of sulfur lingering in the air, to the heavy presence in the room. Your skills as a hunter were too great, you knew he couldn’t have led you astray.

But maybe he wanted you to find him.

This cat and mouse game you’ve been playing for months was just a little too exciting for him to give up. You should’ve been scared, your instincts told you to be. But hearing his husky voice cut through the darkness of the abandoned warehouse made your heart skip a beat.

“Nice to see you again, sweetheart…”

You couldn’t tell where he was yet, still using the cover of the night to shield himself from you. You clutch your bottle of holy water closer to your side as his chuckle bounced off the walls. “You’ve tried that before, it didn't work out so well last time. Did it, pet?”

He was getting closer, you could tell by the way your hair stood up on end. Squaring your shoulders as he finally steps out into the moonlight. The sight makes you freeze, your eyes widening in disbelief. Kas looked different from the last time you had seen him.

He had taken on a new vessel, one that had become quite familiar to you.

Eddie Munson, a bartender you had met at a place called the Hideout. After you’d stumbled inside the rundown bar for a drink after finishing a grueling hunt somewhere in Indiana.

He was sweet, and you both needed to let off some steam. So you took him back to your motel room for the night… and the night after that. The male had made you feel things no one else ever could. So you kept finding yourself going back to that shitty town to see him. Where he was always waiting with that charming smile and a rum and coke.

But now guilt riddled your chest as his once chocolate hues were a stark onyx, Eddie was long gone.

The demon in front of you smirks, eyes watching you in amusement as the recognition crossed over your features.

This was your fault, you put him in harm's way. You had been told time and again not to let yourself be involved with non-hunters. Regular folk. It would put them at risk, not knowing about the things that go bump in the night.

But demons were especially dangerous, they didn’t need consent to take over someone’s body. The only reason you were protected was due to the dark ink that swirled over your hip bone.

Kas takes a step toward you, causing you to take one step back in return. This only made that smirk widen as another chuckle slipped past his lips.

Lips that had been on you too many times to count.

“He thinks about you a lot, you know… wanted you to stay with him so many times.” The demon hums condescendingly, the implication behind his words makes your heart stutter in your chest.

Coming to the realization that you could never have that happy ending now, not with him, or anyone.

After crossing paths so many times, you knew how malicious the demon standing before you could be. Even if you were able to banish him back to hell, Eddie wouldn't be able to return to a normal life.

Once that veil between those worlds is lifted, there’s no way to undo the damage it causes. You’ve seen it more times than you can count.

“A little pathetic, really…” Kas continues as he advances on you slowly, backing you further into a corner.

Your emotions are clouding your reasoning, allowing the demon to continue to close in on you. It shouldn’t be affecting you like this, but as much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise… you knew one thing was true. You had fallen for the metalhead.

And now you’d never get him back.

“But don’t worry, sweetness— he’s still in here with me,” as he speaks you feel your back connect with the cool concrete, the male now caging you against it.

His body felt warm against yours, a juxtaposition to the cold seeping into your back. His familiar scent of citrus and tobacco engulfs your senses completely, bringing you back to the last time you saw each other. Your limbs were tangled together as you lay in a post sex haze. His lazy smile made your skin tingle, finding yourself tracing over the faded tattoos on his chest.

From the flash in his dark eyes you knew he was reliving a memory of Eddie’s, if not the same one.

His calloused fingers begin to trail across your neck, unintentionally allowing yourself to lean into the graze of his fingertips. Despite how your mind screams at you to push him away, your body continues to betray you. Kas can’t help but notice how your skin heats under his touch, how your thighs squeeze together. It amuses him more than you’ll ever know.

“Don’t touch me,” you mutter, wishing your words held much more malice than they do. The slight shake in your voice causes another dark chuckle to spill past his plump lips. Mocking you.

The demon leans further into your space, those damned lips grazing over your collarbone. The feeling causes you to shiver as goosebumps break out across your skin. Kas continues to leave hot, open mouthed kisses along your throat. The feelings of fear, anger and arousal mixing together— making your head spin.

“You can deny that you want this with your words all you want sweetheart, but I see the way your body reacts to this vessel.” He taunts, letting his teeth nip at your tender flesh.

“I feel those goosebumps on your skin, the way you shiver under his touch, and… I can smell you.” Kas growls, his teeth sinking roughly into your skin.

A slight whimper leaves your lips as you attempt to push him away. But it’s too late— he has the upper hand now.

His fingers lace themselves into your hair and tug, exposing more of your neck to him. He licks a stripe up your throat to your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth.

“I can feel how bad he wants you too, you know. The way he reacts to your body… you have no idea how much he wants to feel you again.”

Your eyes widen in shock as the demon presses his hips into yours, feeling how hard he was through the fabric of his jeans.

Get the fuck off her asshole, she’s mine!

Kas chuckles again, pulling back slightly as his hands continue to wander down your body. There’s a flash of something in those onyx hues, leaving you to wonder what hidden joke you’re missing out on.

“Your little boy toy isn’t very happy with me, sweetheart… he doesn’t want to share. How selfish of him,” he feigns a pout, leaning forward as his nose glides along your jaw.

I’m warning you, dickhead.

His deep chuckle fills the silence once more as his large hands grip onto your hips, “Isn’t he selfish, pet?”

“Fuck you,” you spit back, shoving him away but only momentarily. His hands quickly return to the curve of your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

That spark of defiance returns, which only makes the demon grin wider. His hold on your hips becomes harsher, the metal of his rings biting into the skin there.

“Hmm… with pleasure, darling.” His lips hover over yours as his sweet breath fans across your face. There’s a moment when those black hues slowly start to fade, the brown of Eddie’s returning.

Seeing that flicker of him, the man you had desperately fallen for— is what finally breaks your resolve.

Closing that short distance between you and angrily smashing your lips against his. He moans into your mouth, his hands hooking under your thighs to lift you. Trapping you further against the wall as he grinds his pelvis into yours.

You don’t know where Kas starts and Eddie ends, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

The kiss is angry, all tongue and teeth viciously clashing together. There’s still a small part of you that’s begging you to get away, that this was wrong. But your body has taken over control, that little voice fading with each press of his lips against yours.

His tongue glides along your lower lip, begging for entry you weren’t yet willing to give. The male doesn’t give up that easily though, his hands roaming over the curve of your ass and squeezing.

The action takes you by surprise, the small gasp you let out allowing him to slip inside. Kas groans as he sucks your tongue into his mouth, before setting you back on your feet. He pins your hips against the rough concrete as he kneels before you.

The demon eagerly buries his face in between your thighs as he inhales deeply, “I need to know if this pussy tastes as sweet as it smells.”

You’re stunned into silence as he reaches to quickly unbutton your jeans. Finding yourself all too eager to aid him in sliding the denim and lace down your legs. Stepping out of the fabric as Kas tosses them somewhere in the dark of the warehouse.

The brunette doesn’t waste another moment before his tongue is licking a fat stripe up your slit, forcing your thighs apart in his strong hands. Your fingers lace themselves in his wild curls, tugging harshly as you feel his tongue dip inside your entrance. His growl vibrates against your core, nose nudging your bundle of nerves in a way that has your legs trembling in his grasp.

“Hmm, even better than his memories…” you nearly miss his admission over your soft whines, but you don’t have time to dwell on it.

Kas eagerly replaces his tongue with his fingers as the muscle swirls up and around your swollen bud. Your head is swimming, his actions bringing you that much closer to the edge. The male enjoys the way you grind yourself harder onto his tongue as your grip on his hair tightens. Feeling the way your walls flutter around his fingers only encourages him to pick up the pace.

While your eyes have slipped shut, his are wide open. The stormy irises commit each pleasurable expression that flits across your face to memory— to both of their memories.

The almost inhuman speed of his fingers and the firm pressure of his tongue finally pushes you over the edge. As your loud cries echo throughout the empty warehouse. You attempt to push his head away, but his lips don’t leave your body. Instead he trails them down your thighs, smearing your slick across your skin.

You curse softly before dropping to your knees, pushing him backwards. He is surprised by your sudden dominance, but allows you to lay him back on the dirty ground. Your hands fumble with his belt, pulling the zipper down with an urgency you had never seen from yourself before. It makes him chuckle, as you greedily shove his pants down to his knees.

“If you were that needy for our cock you could’ve just said so, sweetness.” He grins devilishly as your hands reach for the elastic of his boxers.

Mine, not yours…

Your eyes flick up to meet his, the smirk plastered on his lips fuels your irritation further.

“Shut the fuck up, Kas.” You say between gritted teeth, pulling his hard cock out from the confines of his boxers as he stifled a moan.

Fuck, that’s my girl…

You don’t give him much warning before you’re straddling his hips, sinking down onto his full length with a whimper. It didn’t matter how many times you had taken him to bed, you were still in awe of just how well he filled you up. You could feel every vein and ridge of his cock, caressing your inner walls in a way no other man could.

It was addictive, a slice of heaven you never wanted to lose.

The male grips your hips tightly, guiding them as he rocks his own up against yours. He’s groaning beneath you, dark eyes watching the space where your bodies are connecting with almost… fascination. A creamy ring has formed around the base of his cock as you continue to ride him. You let your nails dig into his clothed chest with a satisfied whine, your head falling back as you take him deeper.

She really is an angel…

The demon doesn’t seem pleased with your languid pace any longer as he abruptly flips you both over. The movement knocks the wind from your lungs. Kas grins down at you, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight that has filtered in through a broken window. His large hands hold you firmly in place as he begins slamming into your cervix. Causing your back to arch off the grimy floor, your shirt riding up in the process.

The sounds of your bodies connecting fill the once eerie silence of the night. His eyes rake over your newly exposed skin, pushing the material further up your torso. His calloused fingers trace over the ink splayed across your hip with a dark look.

“This little mark might protect your soul, but it’s not going to protect your body.” He grunts as he continues to slam his hips harder into yours, “Not from me. Or him.”

You don’t answer, instead grabbing a fist full of his hair and smashing your mouths together. He kisses you back just as roughly, teeth catching your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. The familiar taste of his saliva mixes with a harsh metallic flavor. The taste of you on his tongue only fuels the fire raging inside you. The male sucks your bleeding lip in between his.

Kas grabs your shaky legs, wrapping them around his waist to join you closer together. A gasp escapes your lips as he hits that sweet spot inside you, causing your eyes to roll back. The demon groans as he feels you pulse around his cock, trailing his lips over your jaw. The mixture of his spit and your own blood smearing across your skin.

“No wonder he can’t stop thinking about you,” his words are spoken so softly you almost don’t catch them.

Pride blooms in your chest as a small smirk graces your features, but it’s wiped away just as quickly. His hips pound into yours even faster, leaving any snarky comment to die on your lips. Instead a pleasurable cry pierces the air as your nails drag across his back.

You can feel your orgasm building with each deep stroke of his cock, filling you to the brim. His lips suck onto the base of your throat, his breath coming out in short pants as you tighten around him more.

“That’s it, angel. It's okay, I’m here.”

Your eyes that had previously fluttered shut, now snap back open. Coaxing his face up from the crook of your neck. No one ever called you that but Eddie, not even Kas.

Your eyes meet his brown ones, letting his hips slow their pace. That signature dimple indents his cheek when he smiles down at you, tears blurring your vision. You quickly blink them away to see him more clearly. Eddie leans down, gently kissing away the moisture that has stained your cheeks.

He wraps you in his arms, pulling you up and into his lap. The new position only buries him deeper inside you, allowing the pleasure to wash over you completely. Your body trembles in his embrace as you rest your forehead against his.

“Eddie,” you moan, grinding yourself harder onto his cock as he holds you close.

His touch is much softer as his hands reach out to caress every inch of you. While he still has control over his own body. Allowing himself to soak in every moment before he’s ripped away from you again. But between your pretty cries and his husky groans, neither of you will be lasting much longer.

“I’ve got you, angel… come for me.” The promise of safety in his voice makes your heart flutter in your chest.

Feeling his fingers encircle over your sensitive nub, he gives you one more hard thrust before you finally fall apart. A breathy cry of his name tumbles from your lips as you feel him twitch inside you. Your body melts further against him, an attempt to keep him here with you. Despite knowing the reality that was soon to come.

“Fuck… I love you. I love you.” He sounds desperate as he mutters the words against your temple.

In your blissful state you don’t notice the black haze beginning to overtake his irises. His words ring in your ears as you feel him spill inside you. Not stopping the movement of his hips as he fucks his essence deeper inside you. Letting your head fall into the crook of his neck as you mumble those three words back into his flushed skin. His comforting scent washes over you as you attempt to catch your breath.

“Well wasn’t that just so sweet,” your body stiffens in his embrace, his deep chuckle snapping you out of the sweet cocoon you were just in.

You quickly scramble out of his lap in an effort to detach yourself from him. His previously comforting touch now sets your skin ablaze, as if he had burned you. You can feel the mixture of your arousal dripping down your thighs as you hurry to find your discarded clothes in the dark.

In your frenzied state, you don’t hear him approaching until he’s right behind you. His ringed fingers dig into the curve of your waist as you bend over to retrieve your jeans. His hips flush against your ass, the metal on his belt pressing into your bare skin. His hand reaches around to dip in between your thighs, collecting some of the mess you both made.

Kas eagerly sucks the digits into his mouth with a moan, before you feel the warmth of his body disappear.

“We’ll be seeing you soon, sweetheart… you can count on that.”

Is the the last thing you hear as he slips into the still of the night.

[reccyls]

Victor's Main Route: Chapter 17

< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >

It was the day after my declaration of war.

Victor: Um… Kate…?

I was tailing Victor.

Kate: Good morning, Victor.

Victor: Good morning… And that notebook is…?

His gaze landed on the notebook I was carrying with me.

Kate: I told you that until my time at Crown is up, I need to learn about you. Kate: In order to make that happen, I’ve decided on this.

I had filled every bit of blank space in the pages with records of every trivial moment of my life with Victor. But I made sure not to write down his name anywhere, or describe what he looked like. It would be difficult for anyone who didn’t spend as much time with Victor that I did to identify him from what I’ve written. After spending some time wondering how I would know Victor, I decided to go back to the beginning.

(To learn about Victor in my capacity as Fairytale Keeper, I began assisting him with his work.)

I had gotten to know him as a person, how he thought, and his secrets. But it wasn’t enough to write a report yet.

(So that’s why I have to be closer to him than anyone else.)

No matter how many records I scoured, the only name I could find was that of Queen Victoria. There was no trace of “Victor”, the man that I loved. So until the promised day came, I would watch him and learn all I could about him from his side, and leave what records of him that I could. And that’s why I was following Victor around everywhere with a notebook in hand.

…

Liam: Good morning, Victor, Kate… Um…?

William: Looks like another interesting development has occurred.

Elbert: …

Harrison: …Did you suddenly take up stalking as a hobby?

As we entered the dining hall, the members of Crown who had already gathered for breakfast simultaneously turned to look our way. Liam looked confused, while Elbert simply stared silently. William was laughing, and Harrison settled on looking dubious.

Kate: No, this is for work!

Paying no mind to how confused Victor seemed, I sat down next to him.

Liam: …I’ve never seen Victor look like that before.

William simply smiled as he overheard Liam’s furtive whispers. I had expected Victor to be at a loss.

(If he’d still tried to push me away even after all that, I would probably have given up. But…)

It seems that making it a matter of my life or death worked, and his behavior had changed.

Victor: You’re going to write about this too?

Kate: Of course.

He used a knife to cut the top off a soft-boiled egg on an egg stand and sprinkled in a bit of salt. He added clotted cream heavily to his scones, while leaving the jam on the side of the plate. As I diligently recorded Victor’s eating habits from my seat next to him, I also reached for some food. He was hopelessly confused, but I was entirely serious.

William: What a diligent observer you are, robin.

…

Victor: …

I kept my eyes on Victor as I assisted him with his work. His quill flowed gracefully across the paper as he worked. Sometimes, he’d pause to tuck his hair behind his ear while thinking hard about something. Warm sunlight poured into the office, silent except for the sound of turning pages and scratching quills. The sight of him was like something out of a painting.

Victor: …Kate.

Kate: What is it?

As I continued to watch him, he smiled wryly and his gaze darted away.

Victor: It’s a little hard to concentrate when you’re staring so intently…

I covered my mouth in embarrassment and immediately looked away.

Kate: Sorry, that was too much.

Victor: I don’t dislike it. It’s just rather embarrassing.

When I snuck a glance back towards him, I noticed a slight blush on his cheeks. Somehow I started feeling embarrassed too, and ducked my head.

(I know I started watching him to learn more about him.) (But the reason I can’t stop is because I’m in love with him.)

His large hands, elegant fingers, the way his black hair flows around his handsome features, his jewel-like eyes. And even the mole on his lip too. I couldn’t help but fall for him. His scent, like that of a silent night, became something that made me feel safe.

(But since I can’t write any of this down, I’ll just have to remember every bit.)

I turned back towards my notebook and began writing again. When I heard the sound of a throat clearing, I looked up.

Victor: You really don’t have any intention of staying away from me?

Kate: None at all.

Victor: Alright. Then, could you assist with the parade?

(That’s the event tomorrow where the queen will be going around the city.)

It was a very large event, with all of Crown acting as security. I hadn’t been told anything specific about what I should do tomorrow, and was told to just stay with William. Victor stood and took some papers and a map.

Victor: From now on, I’ll pretty much be running around the palace to prepare for tomorrow. Victor: People there likely wouldn’t take too well to your presence there, since they’ll think you’re not involved at all.

He looked very serious, and I drew in a sharp breath. He unfolded the map.

Victor: But if I say that you’ll be assisting me by acting as a messenger in case anything happens during the parade, then there won’t be a problem.

There were notes on the map, and when I squinted, I could make out the writing and realized they were guard rotations. And the stack of papers he was holding contained guest lists along with the approximate time they would be arriving.

Victor: So if you want to stay by my side tomorrow, you’ll need to memorize everything here. Victor: Use it to create a schedule for the rest of Crown to follow tomorrow. Victor: Do you think you can do it?

I’ll do it! (+2/+4)

Of course!

Just who do you think I am?

Kate: I’ll do it!

My hands curled into fists, showcasing my determination.

Victor: How dependable.

As I eagerly took the papers and map from Victor, he stood.

Victor: The final security review will be done in half an hour, and after that I’ll need to confirm the queen’s attire. Victor: After that, I’ll brief the council members, and in the evening I’ll be welcoming the first of the arriving guests. Victor: If you tag along, you’re not going to get a moment of rest. Still coming?

His mischievous grin was full of amusement. It had been so long since I’d seen Victor like this. My heart full of happiness, I vigorously nodded.

Kate: Of course I am!

-----

Guard Captain: We’ve been waiting for you, sir.

Victor: Reconfirm the assignments for tomorrow, Kate.

I hastily unfolded the map and scanned the guards’ positions. 

Kate: R-right. The First Division will guard Her Majesty’s carriage. Kate: The Second Division will…

…

Royal Family’s Exclusive Designer: What do you think about lining Her Majesty’s veil with gemstones? I have some beautiful large ones to use.

Victor: She isn’t very fond of such ostentatious styles. In the older outfit, it was… Kate?

I shuffled through the papers I was holding, searching for the one with the design in question.

Kate: If gemstones were to be attached, only use small ones, it says. Kate: And as for the colors–

…

Council Head: About tomorrow…

Victor: You mean the guest list for the post-parade banquet? Kate.

I instantly pulled out the right documents.

Kate: This one is for domestic guests, this one is for foreign ones. Kate: And here is the list of interpreters for the foreign guests…

…

Foreign Noble: Thank you, I’m very honored to be invited.

Victor: Not at all, we should be the ones thanking you for making such a long journey. Victor: If there’s anything that troubles you during your stay at the palace–

Kate: We’ve prepared some information that may be helpful, please feel free to take it with you.

Before he could call my name, I pulled out the specially-prepared guides for foreign visitors, written in multiple languages. Finding the one written in the correct language, I passed it to Victor.

Foreign Noble: My, how convenient! Thank you kindly.

Victor looked at me in surprise for a moment, before turning his smile towards the foreign guest.

Victor: Have a pleasant evening.

-----

(It just doesn’t end…!)

I put my head in my hands as I stared at the papers spread out all across the table. I’d been running around this way and that to help Victor prepare for tomorrow’s parade. Before I knew it, night had fallen. But I was still sat down facing a mountain of documents and the still-blank schedules for tomorrow.

(I didn’t have time to take any notes.)

I wanted to stay beside him to get to know him better. But I was so busy that I didn’t have the time to write down even a single sentence. All I had the time for was to get the right documents for Victor when he needed them.

(I only memorized half of the guests, and the guard rotations are a complete blank…)

And since there were so many foreign guests, I also needed to remember the names of all the interpreters. Which I didn’t. And on top of that, I needed to make guard schedules for everyone in Crown keeping in mind where they’d be on the day of the parade.

(William is one of the banquet guests, so someone else will need to be stationed there. And William’s going to need time to prepare, so the timing of the swap…) (Oh, Harrison and Liam would be better here.) (Lord Elbert should be placed where there’s less people around, preferably with Alfons.) (Maybe it’d be better for Roger to be with Jude and Ellis…)

I tried putting together a schedule for tomorrow as I scribbled down names one after another.

(Nope, I can’t, my head’s spinning.)

I’d been running around all day with my brain working overtime to try to memorize everything, and fatigue was beginning to set in. I tried to stretch to alleviate it. I had decided to work in the common room instead of my bedroom because I was worried that I’d end up falling asleep.

(This was the right choice.)

If I had chosen to return to my room, I was sure that I’d immediately collapse into bed. I gave myself a pat on the back for thinking ahead.

(Anyway, I was the one who said I’d do this, so I need to finish it.)

Mustering up my resolve, I decided to start with the memorization first and reached for the documents.

Victor: So this is where you’re working?

Victor appeared in front of me, setting a tea set onto the table.

Kate: You haven’t gone to sleep yet?

Tomorrow, Victor would have a long day of official business as the queen. I didn’t think he’d be in the common room at this hour.

Victor: I thought you’d still be up, so I wanted to bring you some tea. Victor: I went to your room first, but it was empty…

He took a seat.

Kate: Sorry to make you look for me. I know you must be busy.

Victor: Don’t apologize. I’m very happy to do this, so you don’t have to mind at all.

He touched the side of the teapot, tossing a wink my way.

Victor: It was piping hot earlier, so it should be at a comfortable temperature to drink now. Victor: Lucky you, you won’t have to wait for it to cool down.

(He really is kind.)

He saw the bright side in everything, even playing the fool, just so others wouldn’t feel bad. It was something I noticed as I spent more time with him.

Victor: Here you go.

Kate: Thank you.

I took the teacup from him and took a sip. Warmth filled me as I savored the tea’s rich flavor and aroma.

Kate: It’s delicious.

Victor: Wonderful! I’ll have a cup too.

As he set down his own teacup after taking a sip, he looked towards the blank schedules.

Victor: Since you might not manage in time, I’ll help.

His offer was generous, but I couldn’t accept it. I didn’t want to admit to him I couldn’t do it.

Kate: I’ll finish everything before your duties tomorrow begin. Kate: Tomorrow morning, can you review the schedules?

Victor: Alright. But don’t push yourself too hard.

As I picked up my pen again, he closed his eyes.

Kate: Are you going to stay here?

Victor: I know I should head to bed early, but I don’t seem to be very sleepy.

This wasn’t very different to the idle conversations we used to have while working in his office together, or at least it shouldn’t have been. But the knowledge that this was all coming to an end in a few days filled me with loneliness.

Kate: So you also have trouble sleeping before a big day?

I tried to continue the conversation, as if that would prolong the time we had together.

Kate: When I was a kid, I never slept properly before going on trips.

Victor: I’m sorry, I can’t help but imagine what you were like as an excited child unable to sleep. It’s too cute.

He laughed gently.

Kate: And not just before trips too. I’d also have trouble sleeping the night before going ice skating on the Thames in winter. Kate: But because of that I ended up getting sick the day of. I was so disappointed…

Victor: Haha, how tragically adorable.

He laughed again. My heart swelled with joy to hear it. The conversation drifted to a close, and silence filled the air. As I wracked my brain for something else to talk about, Victor suddenly took one of the papers.

Victor: I really don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep, so let me help you.

He flipped through the documents, turning a smile my way.

Kate: Okay.

And thus a warm night passed.

(If only we could stay like this forever…)

I wished silently that this night would never end.

[feathernotes]

BACKGROUNDS IN WEBCOMICS

I want to talk about sustainability in your work process, featuring our fave: Backgrounds. How to simplify, convey, and deliver in comics! (examples include Phantomarine, Wychwood, Shaderunners and Ghost Junk Sickness) The usual suspect to burnout is often the workload involved. Many ppl who FULL HAM on pages that def need a detail cut for many reasons Main one being: You don’t need excessive detail to tell whats happening in a small panel, in fact, less is better. When you observe a page in its entirety, where does the eye travel? Where does the eye stop? Having a fully rendered BG in multiple panels can actually be a huge distraction, on top of the time it takes to get there. So how do you balance?

In Phantomarine, the most detailed panel is the establishing one, it holds our characters and allows readers to understand the positions they're all in/standing at. Its one panel that provides a specific telling detail: the railings behind Phae indicate we're on the boat.

In the bottom left panel,the artist uses the railings again, but doesnt have to render the lights, floor boards, or sea to show where we were, then uses the colours of said BG and mood to paint the rest of the page. This is where colours/gradients and small objects save the day! The same example is here, just flipped. The establishing shot shares DETAILS that you need to show the readers where we are, then the BG of Pavel eating food isnt over whelmed with background characters or other details that get in the way of the ACTION that is to be conveyed

it would be rather distracting if we were to see Pavel eat that bowl, with sooo many more details involved in the panel- instead, the drapes, hues of light, and clever sound effects tell us what is happening. Wychwood does the very same with establishing shots, then KEY DETAILS to provide the reader with where the character is standing, without sacrificing the facial expressions and details of the CHARACTERS that we need to get across

Most detail is in the top panel, the BAR that Julian holds onto is a KEY PIECE to show where they are in the BG already established. Perfect use of BG! Get used to thinking of those key details when changing scenes and establishing shots!

Pick those key details to tell the reader where they are and draw that. If you have a library scene, please just draw that BG once! Take a specific bookcase or key feature, use blocked shapes and colours, and make it less detailed than the provided establishing shot. I also wanna talk about : Action Scenes Focusing on the ACTION of the scenes is SO important when you have them, and often details get lost when a creator focuses on details that can distract a reader! My advice? Most action scenes are best without/need little backgrounds. A few shots from Ghost Junk Sickness demonstrate this. We're paying attention to the action- we've been established where we are before, so let's play in the sandbox now.

Have a panel or two peppered in there, with the same principal as above to ground where your character is, but do not add a BG in every panel. It instantly takes away from the action when it's not integrated as well, and it takes SO MUCH MORE TIME to draw that sequence!

Read More amazing tips: Here are some GREAT examples by the creators of ShadeRunners, HERE who break down how they do backgrounds ( AND CROWD SHOTS!!!!)

TL;DR: Comics are a MULTITUDE of skills and needs. It takes a lot of time and work to pull it off, so working with methods that make it easiest for you as the creator is what will help you maintain that momentum and stability you need! Good luck and get comicking!

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[Spoilers below cut]

save me SMG4 episode save me

(the following is my live reaction:)

moo-stache moo-stache moo-stache

why do I feel like Pedro's going to be here?

"bruh Pedro was just a one-time thing." they literally killed off Mickey, ANYTHING can happen

KAIZO YOU'RE BACK HI

OMG please tell me someone from the Team saw this fan animation and put it in the episode as a nod to the animator, that would be awesome!!!

btw great fan animation, go check it out if you haven't [link]

YAYYYY, c'mon Mario you gotta spend time with your brother :)

also I need to find a playthrough of this game while I work

whoops my hand slipped [*makes 4 say "I should've chosen the USB over you, 3"*] :)

Hey Shroomy :D ....oh *western spaghetti flashbacks*

like seriously, I can't hear that audio the same way again

helicopter helicopter (copter)

oh hey swag *he fades away* NOOOOOO

well, digging did (mostly, sorta) help the last episode

OMG HI HI HI MY SILLIES

Three, why are you here if you think it's stupid? unless... 🫵 🏳️‍🌈⁉️

it's giving "I'm only here to support my boyfriend's interests", like I'm starting to believe that they truly are dating behind the scenes

they're on a date, your honor 💙💜

and there they go bickering again smh /affectionate

I'd like to think that ever since Four drives a forklift, that's just his method of transportation. screw the car, we're taking this baby out for a spin :)

Mario, you need to be ✨forklift certified✨

sorry, just Three's gayass poses give me life

actually yeah why is the line not moving?

the boys :)

also that walk animation tho

HOW LONG IS THIS LINE?!

also c'mon Three, show us your dance moves :D

oooooh that editing i love that

THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING

now that they've mentioned it, why are there so many conventions happening at the same time? hmmmmm *game theory theme starts playing*

SMG3: "Maybe they're lining up to go to your mom's house. That line's usually pretty long." DAYUM THREE

"the line doesn't end" ayo wtf????

shroomy, you've eaten mushrooms before and you had no problem with that

....it really is the end of the world huh

ONE WEEK LATER?!?!?!?

"there is no end" "the end will come" me, sitting in the corner: hmmmmmmmmm

whelp, it's confirmed, I kin Four now

Three's not going coo co crazy, he's just vibin' :)

THIS IS WARRRRRR

this whole fighting scene omg it's SO good!

....WOTFI? ok no :P

AWWW THAT WAS ACTUALLY SWEET DUDE

CAN WE PLEASE GET A HUG? FOR ME SPECIFICALLY?

.... yeah uh Boopkins, you're going to have to explain what the hell you mean by that

not that it's surprising, we've been through a lot. just another Tuesday (or Saturday in this case)

MY HEART CAN'T TAKE ALL THIS FLUFF

HUG HUG HUG

THAT'S MY BOYS

RAVE PARTY [*dances*]

....sonic, is that you? sorry, my mind is still in the sonadow generations phase so I can't unsee them

:O wait, Boopkins, what did you mean by that?

MARTY?!?!? WTF

SMG4: "Don't worry, Mario. There's one way we can fix this." Beat the shit out of him...? YEAH I KNEW IT HAHA

*explodes*

and congrats to samgagmincho for your art featured at the end credits 🎉

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

This was a fun episode, I loved it!! Seeing my boys is always a plus and I appreciate the return of some side characters. With how the world is right now, I really needed this episode. So, thanks Team, for keeping my spirits up.

I just enjoyed watching my silly little guys doing silly little adventures. Traffic is a nightmare so I don't blame Mario in the slightest. Anyway, 3 and 4, how was your date? /silly

Can we just talk about the animation? It was so good!!! You really see the quality they put in, especially in that fighting scene. I didn't expect MARTY of all people to be the cause of all this. I honestly thought it was going to be a gag of something harmless just being in the middle of the road for no reason (like a turtle or smth) and the Crew being like "ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!" but NOPE, Marty was here and apparently A SORCERER?! I really shouldn't be surprised, what am I talking about here. And ofc the OG duo immediately beating the shit out of him is so fucking funny to me. He didn't die (I know that), but he's definitely going to be more relevant in the future.

...puzzlevision 2? ok I'm sorry

SMG4 show and jokes aside, I hope you all are ok. No matter what happens, we'll stick together. Don't give them the satisfaction that they want. You aren't alone, and we'll keep on fighting.

Going to be a Sonic fan here, Sonic 06 is famously known to be... augh. But there is a good moment with Shadow that I think is relevant now:

Mephiles (the villain of the game): "It's futile. The world will betray you. Why fight at all? Why risk your life for those who will persecute you later?" Shadow: "If the world chooses to become my enemy, I will fight like I always have."

Take care, my dear fellows, and I'll see you all in my next post!! Hmmm, there is "no end" [*game theory intro plays*]

[pansy-picnics]

A vat7k related question.

What do you think is Hugo's gender identity? Cus I want to hear what you think Hugo's gender is and the story behind it.

EHEHEHE personally i think she’s genderfluid and uses he/she/they pronouns…….I think he was kind of an uncracked egg up until the trials though. like, he’s been in survival mode for so long that he’s never had the time or luxury to really think about himself or his identity….i think he’s had a lot of different disguises over his career though, and those personas are either male or female depending on what the situation calls for so he’s not a stranger to dressing femininely either.

but yeah…i think for a long time hugo just identified as male by default cuz like…what else would he be LOL. if he had any doubts at all they weren’t significantly hindering him or anything so he just buried them with all the other of the emotions he doesn’t want to feel. but like the closet is made of GLASS and this becomes especially obvious when she teams up with 3 other teenagers who are also transgender so sometimes she’ll just Say Shit and they all turn around and look at her like “…….🤨”

i have this very vivid scene in my head where varian comes out to the gang as trans and hes clearly really uneasy abt it. and hugo doesn’t know what to say so he just tries to relate by saying the first thing that comes to mind and goes “oh yeah i get it i mean. sometimes i wish i was a girl but like not all the time yk” and nuru and varian both just stop and stare at him

hugo, getting nervous: …Sorry that’s probably not the same thing forget i said anything

nuru: No i think we should talk about this?

anyways yeah….other than her traveling party giving her some weird looks nothing actually really came of these conversations bc hugo would refuse to think about herself even if you put a gun to her head

fast forward to post-trials though, and hugo’s been living in the castle with varian for about six months…it was REALLY messy for both of them while she was adjusting, but at this point shes finally started to let her guard down a little, and all of a sudden she has SO much free time and she has no idea what to do with any of it. she’s stealing collecting things, tinkering with all kinds of useless little gadgets, rapunzel is teaching her tons of little arts and crafts projects. overall shes pretty content despite everything. So anyways then the gender crisis hits them like a fucking freight train

honestly i’m like half joking when i say i think it started bc they just kept forgetting to cut their hair. like one day they looked in the mirror and they’re like “wow my hairs getting so long i kinda look like a girl lol. Wait”

AND AS FUNNY AS IT IS ITS SO. WILDLY UNFAMILIAR TO THEM. like all of a sudden theyre SO insecure for as far as they can tell, NO reason and it drives them CRAZY. i dont even think that hugo dislikes their masculine features after coming out, i think they embrace them if anything but its just like…going from 0 to 100 so fast and suddenly being so hyper aware of themselves in a way that they NEVER were before…having to realize that they’re definitely Not cis. it’s fucking TERRIFYING!!!

not to mention it hits him all at once during a time when he’s still frankly really paranoid about him and varian’s relationship, and he’s kinda walking on eggshells bc deep down he’s convinced that var’s just gonna get tired of him eventually and kick him out. its like he’s just waiting for the final nail in the coffin despite the fact that there is literally no coffin.

All that being said i think it takes him a while to work up the courage to talk to varian about it. and he knows he won’t like. hate him for being trans or anything (I sure hope he wouldn’t, at least, seeing as he is literally also trans) but varian’s already done SO much for him and helped him through literally everything already….he doesn’t want to burden him any more than he already has. he also cant comprehend that someone can just Like him, like, as a person, so he’s convinced himself that varian must see something specific in him right now and he’s afraid that if he changes himself drastically in any way then whatever varian saw in him just. won’t be there anymore. If that makes sense

as for who he actually goes to first- honestly i think it’d have to be lance. at least in my head lance was the first person hugo really started to bond with aside from varian….he didn’t start letting his guard down with rapunzel until quite a while after that. also i think he’s worried that if he tells rapunzel she’d end up accidentally spilling something to varian (which is like. Valid bc she’s a horrible liar) he’d definitely write a letter to nuru, too, but nuru is also in another kingdom, and that message takes a while to get to her, so it’s more something they talk about after the fact

when he finally does get a letter back after dumping this revelation on her it’s just like

“dearest hugo. upon reading your letter i desperately wanted to tell you that i told you so, but i realize that would be in poor taste, seeing as you are clearly struggling right now. Moreover,-“ /j

regardless of who she tells first, they obviously all support her and encourage her to talk to varian as well…And ofc varian hypes her up to no end when she finally does. i wanna say it’s a sweet emotional scene but i feel like varian was also under the assumption that she figured out the gender thing like a year ago /j

hugo: ,,,,so like. i don’t think i’m a guy

varian: . yeah?

hugo:

hugo: TFYM “YEAH”?????!!!!???

varian: D. DID WE NOT ALREADY KNOW THIS?

hugo: ,???? NO???!!???!

jokes aside though as soon as hugo does decide he wants to explore his presentation more varian immediately consults rapunzel who gets WAY too excited about it and it kind of scares hugo a little bit. /j like Do you want to cut your hair? Dye it? Do you want new piercings? TATTOOS????

they eventually just settle on getting her a few new pieces to add to her wardrobe and that works out fine. varian sees his girlfriend in a dress and loses his mind etc etc. All is right in the world

[sim0nril3y]

First Date

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: It's no denying that their first date is a little rocky to begin with, but as things settle Simon wondered if he is in too deep. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), mentions of alcohol, suggestive conversation, slight mention of smut, canon-typical swearing (I mean, it's Ghost for fuck sake!).

Bloody fucking hell. It was still beyond him why Simon had actually agreed to this mess. Why had he done this to himself? Maybe he’d had too much to drink. Maybe a pretty face made him completely lose his mind… or whatever was left of it. Whatever the reason was he was here now. Waiting in an Italian restaurant with a cold lager half-finished beside him and the chair opposite him empty. Maybe you’d thought better of it. Maybe that was for the best. Fuck, it still fucking hurt though…

A sudden flutter of commotion came from behind him. Looking over his shoulder to watching as you rushed across the room, removing your coat to reveal a beautiful silky dress that contoured to your frame seamlessly, his eyes had lingered on your body for so long he almost missed the guilty smile you shared with him. “Bloody taxi driver got the wrong restaurant.” You announced before allowing your tense shoulders to fall. “I’m not typically this flustered – I promise.”

“I believe you.” Simon then rose and stepped around the table, taking your chair in hand and pulling it out for you to sit in before tucking it in. There was a lot you could say about Simon Riley, but he was a gentleman to the people that deserved it the most. After giving you a few moments to settle Simon finally asked. “You want a drink?” Taking a swig of his own beer and quirking his brow at you. “God, yes. I’d literally murder for a white wine.” Your dramatics made him laugh, like genuinely, he wasn’t really sure the last time someone had made him do that… Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mine Simon flagged down the waiter and ordering you one.

“What s’it you do for work?” Simon asked then, forgetting for a moment that it might be very possible for you not to be established into the working world yet, especially with how long young people seemed to stay at university now. “I’m a barmaid down at the Golden Lion.” Oh, he knew that place. It wasn’t so fancy up-and-coming gastropub. No, it was a rundown old pub owned by a miserable git. He knew the type of tossers that went in there too. “It’s not what I want to do forever, but it works right now.” There was an easy shrug to your shoulders before you admitted. “I’m an artist.” The words had drifted from your mouth with such ease. An artist. That wasn’t a real job, Simon thought. “You got any backup plans, kid?”

You blinked at him blankly before a grin spread across your features. “You sound like my parents.” Brushing away the question with another carefree shrug. That second Simon hated your optimism. It was that same optimism all kids your age had. That same sense that the world owed them their dreams. There was this malicious part of Simon that wanted to burst your bubble, deflate your self-entitled ego and remind you that the real world didn’t care about your dreams or your wants. Your voice cut through the silence again. “Who knows, it probably won’t work out, but I want to try just for a few more years.”

“Yeah…” Jesus, he felt like such a prick. He had just assumed that you was just some dumb kid that felt like the world owed them something, but… but you were just a hopeful girl that was chasing a very tricky and far away dream. Who was he to judge? You’d found a way to sustain yourself whilst also trying to navigate into a very select profession. “You any good?” His cheeks suddenly set aflame at how the question sounded on his tongue. “Your art, I mean. Is it good?”

A delicate giggle bubbled in your throat as you finished your wine with a quick swig. “I like to think I’m pretty good…” Lifting your sultry and inviting gaze to find his own. “Maybe I could show you sometime…” Simon couldn’t believe it when he felt his heart fucking stutter in his chest. Fucking hell. It was that moment that he realised was in deep here. Clearing his throat Simon adjusted himself discreetly in his seat. It was going to be a hard end to this dinner – no pun intended.

Leading her across the carpark Simon stood beside the waiting cab, hand on the open door as you spoke softly to the driver through the window. A moment later you gazed up into his eyes and offered quietly. “I had a really nice time tonight…” The sweetness of your tone was enough to warm him even in this bitter night air. “Yeah…” He grunted out. “Me too…” Adding swiftly a moment later causing you to breathe out a subtle sigh of relief. “Are you gonna put me out of my misery and take me out again, or gonna make me beg for it?” Jesus, the idea of you begging was something that made his heart race. Knelt. Eyes pleading. Every inch of you- Stop. He can’t do that right now.

Placing a firm finger under your chin Simon jutted her head back forcing you to meet his intense gaze. “Get the feeling you don’t beg all that often, kid.” That same little smirk found your lips, watching as your eyes darkened at his comment. “M’sure it’s a sweet fuckin’ sound…” He was fighting internally with himself. Part of him screamed to just give you exactly what you wanted. Bend your tight body over that bonnet and fuck you stupid. Another part of him told himself to allow himself some form of happiness, take you out again and see what might happen. The final part scoffed and scowled at that optimism. It warned him that being with him was practically a death sentence. No, he needed to let you go, let you move on and find a boring man to turn into a husband and pop out a couple ankle-biters with.  “Are you free next week?” Your question came interrupting his cruel inner monologue. No. Say no. End this. “Yes.” A wild grin tore across your features, you had certainly won this round.

Masterlist | Ask | 30-08-2023

[qwertyprophecy]

Update on The Dark Queen of Mortholme!

Phase one is now essentially completed for art, code and dialogue. Onwards to phase two; because every good boss fight needs that part where the boss gets unhinged and gains a whole new set of attacks.

I too have chosen to be unhinged and made a design for the Queen's final form that gobbles up animation work hours like nothing I've done before with pixel art.

Concept sketches under the cut:

Initially I didn't have any ideas beyond doing a more monstrous design that amps up the Queen's features and takes cues from the shapes and colours of her original spell animations. However after writing the dialogue leading up to the transformation I immediately landed on a specific concept.

The transformation is an outburst. It's a manifestation of the Queen's terror and defiance towards her approaching death. She's unraveling, and in doing so she's channeling more of her innate violent power that she doesn't usually let out. She's essentially been having a long argument with the Hero about who they believe they are. Thus far she's gotten by being all smug and detached, but now she's losing and forced to reveal more of her true self to continue.

So her final form's design should convey 1. an outburst, and 2. the unraveling of a false front. Her base design's spikes, hair and skirt all erupt out into the wilder shape language of her shadowy spell-tendrils. They can handily be used to draw the eye from all directions towards the center of her chest, where I wanted to have this cracking pattern, like something hidden inside her is coming out. It's bright as if blindingly powerful, yet the cracks make her seem more damaged and vulnerable than her base form.

Continuing with the theme of an inner self showing through, the skirt's interior is also more visible than before. The flared jellyfish-esque shape connects with the deep sea vibe of the tentacles and contributes to the drama of a nonhuman silhouette.

A big thing for the silhouette is of course the massive hands. What's the thematic explanation for those? Absolutely nothing, I just think they look cool and dangerous.

Finally, lot of asymmetry was also introduced, both to increase the visual interest of such a large sprite, and to make her look like she's really losing it.

---

A note on animating this monstrosity: I've been trying to come up with a whole lot of cheats to keep a complex sprite like this as animated as possible without spending the rest of my life making this game. Early on I decided she should float, just so her idle animation can also be a moving one.

Secondly, the sprite is cut up to pieces so that I can keep reusing the loop of the writhing tentacles while moving her hands, for example. This is not something I like doing because in believable animation, motion in one part of the body always affects the other parts of the body. Treating a character as one entire whole when animating will make them feel more tangible, but alas, it's a compromise to avoid spending a hundred years in pixel-pushing jail. Like, I would love to see those tendrils flutter around behind her as she swoops across the room for her attacks, but... it'll be a lot more reasonable to move her as little as possible and instead add oomph to her attacks with some effects animations.

Anyways thank you for reading about monstrosity, she might be a pain in the butt to move but she brings me joy

[americasass81]

Dark Manifestations

Warnings 18+ for the following:- Stalking, Kidnapping, Bondage, Supernatural Elements, Use of Pet Name, Implied Mention of Anxiety, Implied Non-Consensual Sex, Implied Breeding.  Seriously do not read if any of this upsets you, the warnings are there for a reason. Feedback is welcomed and any mistakes are my own.

By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Author’s Note 1:- Taking a bit longer than I thought to complete, this fic was written as a birthday gift for @ironlady1993 and her love for these three heroes.  Really hope you enjoy this Ari.  Happy birthday my beautiful friend. lyl💕💕💕

Author’s Note 2:- As always, all images have been found through google search.

Synopsis:- Overseeing a Stark Party should be the opportunity of a lifetime, but what happens to that life when a certain set of heroes get ideas that don’t quite mesh with how you see your future?

Pairings:- dark!Steve Rogers x Named Female Reader, dark!Iron-Man x Named Female Reader, dark!Stephen Strange x Named Female Reader.

Total Word Count:- 3,752

The guests mingled and the drinks flowed as you left the kitchen area and headed off back towards the main hall.  Wishing you could be back at home in your nice warm bed as various guests milled around and soaked up the party atmosphere, your boss had insisted however that you be on hand to make sure everything ran smoothly despite the fact that this was not how you had planned on spending your birthday.  After all, as she was quick to inform you, a Stark party was an entertainment extravaganza and organizing one could make or break any firm.  So here you stood, a beacon of poise and professionalism as Avengers and guests alike talked, drank and appeared to be having a fabulous time.  If only the same could be said for you.

Looking out over the expanse of guests and servers while trying to calculate whether or not there was enough of everything to keep all of them satisfied, as well as thinking of all the other activities you could be presently engaged in, your distracted state forced you to jump a little however when the words whispered from a body behind your back brought you back to your current task and location.  "Hey sweetheart, this is a great party you’ve thrown together.  Didn’t mean to startle you though.  May I buy you a drink at the bar?" the obvious male voice asked and you thanked all the gods both old and new that you had kept your retort about the drink being free to yourself when you turned around to find none other than Steve Rogers invading what little space remained in the doorway.

"Thank you Captain Rogers but unfortunately some of us are actually working here tonight.  Now if you'll excuse me," you continued politely while also failing to note the disappointment that crossed his chiseled features, "but I really must get back to things," you finished before walking away and picking up a tray to begin clearing up some empty glasses you saw sitting unattended on an nearby table without sparing him a second thought.  But perhaps you should have.

Standing there a while longer in your wake now, Steve bit his lip as he tried to figure out what exactly it was about your rebuff that didn't sit well with him however.  Sure he had spent his younger years being practically ignored and ridiculed by the opposite sex and though Sam had now taken up the shield in his place, he was still Steve Rogers and it irked him to be dismissed, however politely, in favor of you doing a job that was quite clearly several steps beneath you.  Thinking on how he could make you see the error of your snap decision, he was pulled from his thoughts however as a hand came down to rest upon his shoulder.

"Hey Capsicle, you enjoying yourself, old man?" Tony asked as he came to stand beside his friend now while snatching a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing server.

Muttering some half hearted compliment in reply about how well the event seemed to be going as his eyes continued to track your movements, Steve excused himself from Tony's presence however with talk of joining Clint and Sam at the pool table as a means of distracting himself from the irritation bubbling just beneath the surface.  Irritation still clearly focused on you.

Feeling eyes continue to track you as now you handed off your tray of empty glasses to one of the many servers working the floor, glancing around to find Steve watching you while Sam chatted at him, you were never more thankful to your assistant Shona however when her voice spoke in your earpiece to tell you there was an issue in the kitchen needing your attention.  Heading off there quickly then to discover that a spill on the floor had caused a server to slip and injure themselves, you quickly assessed the situation before dealing with each individual fallout.  Making sure that the area was avoided while you checked out the injured party, a smile and a couple of "I'm fine" arguments later found you happy that the person in question was indeed well enough to return to work.  Though you did switch up their assignment to give them an easier time as the night was really only just beginning.  Then making sure yourself that the spill which caused the commotion was thoroughly cleaned up, you headed back upstairs to ensure everything there was running as smoothly as possible.  But somehow that wasn't quite the case.

Taking some time to stop by the bar once you returned to the entertainment hall, you ordered a small whiskey to calm yourself after the kitchen debacle before turning around to come face to face once more with the former American patriot and his insufferable attitude.  "I thought you weren't drinking tonight sweetheart.  Or is it just me you refuse to have a drink with?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and you were actually relieved when the appearance of Tony Stark rescued you from coming up with some answer that didn’t sound like the telling off you wanted to direct his way.  At least momentarily relieved anyway.

"Ari darling, is everything all right?  F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted me to an issue in the kitchen."

Turning away from Steve now to face the host of the party, you plastered on your best professional smile and once again greeted the man of the hour.  "Yes Mr. Stark.  It was a very minor incident, no harm was done and things are once again running like clockwork.  I hope you're happy with everything," you finished as Steve continued to observe you in a way you now felt mildly uncomfortable with.

"Yes darling, everything is delightful and I will definitely be sending my compliments onto your boss," he said, as like Steve his eyes traveled the length and breadth of your body uninvited.  "By the way," he continued, "how many more times am I going to have to ask you to call me Tony?" he asked, reaching out now to accept his drink from the bartender while his fingers grazed your shoulder in the process.

"At least once more I'm sure Mr. Stark.  Now if both of you gentlemen will excuse me, parties really don't run themselves I'm afraid," you answered politely before placing your empty glass back down on the bar and heading as far into the throng of people as you could possibly get, resulting in you being well out of earshot when their conversation started up.

"Damn Tony, even you're not beyond her indifference," Steve said as he too accepted a drink and stared after your retreating figure once more while his mind took him places his body was only aching to go.  "What do you think her problem is?"

"I don't quite know Rogers but I gotta say, she has me intrigued," his former teammate answered as he too finished his glass while his eyes joined Steve's as you disappeared into the crowd.  Now you just had to stay there and hope no more unwanted attention found its way towards you before this night was over.  Not that your luck held up very long in that regard however.

Glad to be away now from the two heroes, who for some reason you couldn't explain creeped you the hell out, you were so busy fleeing their attention and looking over your notes on the event so far that you almost toppled over however when you walked straight into a decidedly solid yet muscular mass.  Looking up from your clipboard then as two strong arms reached out to prevent you falling backwards onto your ass, your eyes now locked on those of the Sorcerer Supreme and for some unexplained reason, a sudden chill ran through you as he spoke.

"Easy there princess, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself," his silky voice said as he held you firmly while you tried to right yourself.  Finally regaining your composure, you stepped out of his arms and looking around was thankful at least that no one seemed to have witnessed your mishap.  "I hope you're enjoying yourself," Stephen continued as he brought you out of your thoughts and back instead to the reason you were once again so distracted.

"Sorry, what did you say?" you asked, giving the man your most professional look which had now been well practiced by this time of the evening.

"I asked if you were enjoying the party," he repeated as you looked behind you also to see two other Avengers watching this interaction now with the most curious of expressions clouding their features.

"I'll enjoy myself when this party is over and I've got the week off to recuperate," you replied before raising your hand to your earpiece as if to accept a call before walking away without another word.  Standing in your wake then as you didn't even dignify him with an excuse, Stephen Strange now headed off towards the other side of the room as a dark corner beckoned to the three disgruntled heroes.

Continuing on with your duties then for the rest of the night while simultaneously rebuffing numerous more advances from the three heroes who couldn't seem to understand that not everyone wanted to worship at their feet, you were finally thankful at least when the last party guest left and one by one Earth's Mightiest Heroes began to retire to their various quarters.  Exhausted beyond belief now at the night you had just put down, you promised yourself that the next time you spoke to Adriana you would tell her in no uncertain terms that you quit.  Sure the money was great and you were damn good at your job, but the type of attention you had been fending off all night from people who were supposed to be the best humanity had to offer, told you that enough was enough.  They were supposed to know better and, birthday or not, it was not in your contract to spend all your time massaging their clearly inflated egos.  No, perhaps it was finally time instead to follow your passion and bury yourself among a mountain of library books like you had always dreamed and leave the event organizing to those better suited to handling famous people.

Tidying up the final few bits and pieces then while making sure the last remaining unnecessary lights were all shut off, you headed off along the corridor now and was so focused on reaching the elevator that you failed to notice the tinkling sound that signaled the danger you were in until the walls of the building began to shimmer and shift as if out of focus.  But by then it was too late.

Watching in disbelief as the elevator that would take you to safety disappeared, a new sound behind you had you turning sharply instead to face the first avenger and one third of the bane of your existence throughout the night.  "Now sweetheart, you're going to make us think you don't like us," Steve said while you looked around frantically for a means of escape as well as his other two teammates you could only assume the 'us' referred to.

Seeing no other people however and so turning back again towards what once had been your way out, a glowing crack in the wall before you gave you hope.  Not much, but at least it was a start.  Not daring then to glance back at the man behind you now as you quickly decided the unknown was better by far than what currently presented itself to you, you took a deep breath, closed your eyes and dove through it without caring what happened or where you ended up.  At least until you opened your eyes in a somewhat similar place.

Running through this new corridor now as a shimmering orange portal appeared behind you, you didn't give it another thought however as you reached out and rushed through the first door you came across.  Which proved to be another monumental mistake.  One it seemed you had been making consistently since you had first agreed to supervise this cursed event.  For that's where it seemed this night had been headed.

Resting your head and hands against the door now as you tried to control your ragged breathing and racing heartbeat, your blood ran cold however when a soft whisper reached your ears and confirmed that this destination too held a figure you were not much willing to entertain.  "At last darling, I've been waiting."

Turning around slowly to face a now suited up Iron Man, your fingers reached for the handle of the door again as something about his demeanor told you that this was not the hero the world knew him to be, even if his behavior all night had not already convinced you.  Rising from his position on a bed you were now just noticing, panic gripped you more fiercely however as the door that would have offered you salvation moments ago suddenly disappeared and thereby confirming that something sinister was definitely at play and you were at its mercy.

Moving around the now closed off box as the man before you stalked towards you like a jungle predator, a ray of hope arrived again as another shimmering portal appeared before you however.  Deciding again that what you didn’t know had to be far more enticing than what Tony Stark and this scene seemed interested in, you dodged around Iron-Man, jumped through the portal and ran the length of yet another corridor until a familiar room told you that you had not actually left the Avengers Towers behind.  Which gave you hope at least that your car was waiting here somewhere to whisk you away to safety.  Hope that was soon to be shattered beyond repair leaving nothing but devastation in its wake however.

Slowing down as you entered the entertainment room which now showed no signs of ever having hosted the night’s party, you froze completely however at the sight of the Sorcerer Supreme standing by the floor to ceiling windows, bathed in the moonlight shining through from the world outside.  Turning his head to gaze upon you now, the sinister glow in his once kind eyes alerted you to the possible danger he too posed and it sent a shiver down your spine.  One of these men you realized now would have been enough to handle at the best of times, but three of them in their current guises was a damn nightmare.  One you had to escape from.

Holding onto this feeling now and looking nervously behind you into the corridor you had just left, you began to slowly edge backwards towards the door when two more portals appeared and out walked the only other two men who gripped your heart as if death itself had come to visit.  You were finally outnumbered.  Standing now on either side of the man you suspected responsible for this whole freaky moving tower thing, a flapping at your back forced you to shift your focus from them however, as a six-eyed black bird appeared, blocked your escape and drained whatever hope you had left to you.  Frightened beyond belief now at the terrifying images that held you in their grasp, you still had enough wits about you however to not just surrender without a fight and so diving beneath the creature's expansive wings you ran like hell from the three former heroes that seemed to have lost their minds while hoping they stayed as far away from you for as long as possible.  Which it seems was similar to what they had in mind.  For now at least.

Not daring to look behind you then as an intense flapping sounded in your ears, you kept running until suddenly, the floor gave way beneath you as yet another portal took out your feet and swallowed you whole.  Tumbling endlessly now through what appeared to be the same corridor over and over and over again, as portal after portal appeared beneath you, fear gripped you like never before but you finally stopped screaming at least when the massive, scary bird reappeared and swooped in between you and yet another portal.  Hanging on to this creature now for dear life as exhaustion finally started to creep over you, you wished you had fought harder however when it landed back in the entertainment room with the three heroes determined it seemed to turn your life into a living nightmare.  For what else could they have planned?

Standing where you'd left them still as the creature now settled on its powerful legs so as to allow you to alight, yet another shock ran through you however as Doctor Strange waved his hand and the room around you disappeared to be replaced by what could only be described as a millionaire's representation of a caveman's room.  Boasting nothing but a bar, coffee table and some couches spread out throughout the spacious structure, it was the thick stone walls and no visible exit however that really caught and held your attention.  For the only light here now was all artificial and as a result it drew your eyes elsewhere.

Looking around as the guys made themselves comfortable now, you would have been totally devastated by the lack of escape options if it wasn't for the events which happened next however.  Eyeing up every possible shadow for even the smallest hope of escape, this was quickly extinguished as Steve Rogers stood before you and encased you now in his powerful arms.  Struggling against his grip then as he kissed you harshly, panic overtook you further as a coil of magical energy wound around your neck and snaked down your arms to completely secure your wrists.  Bound now in the blond man's arms as Doctor Strange and Iron-Man approached you from either side, their close-up appearance simply confirmed what this whole night had already shown you … something wasn't quite right with these heroes.

Closing your eyes again against this realization as the room shimmered and changed around you once more, the enormous bed you had seen earlier appearing against one wall now, tucked neatly between four impressive stone pillars simply confirmed what your gut so far had screamed at you.  It was definitely their plan to claim you and your senses just couldn’t seem to handle this truth as you tried your best to shut out what was happening all around you.  But it didn’t last long unfortunately.  Dressed in darker hues of black, red, blue, silver, orange and purple, time would soon reveal just how far these three men had fallen however and that revelation alone held all your attention now, at least until their voices broke through whatever panic their actions and altered appearances had triggered.

"Do you think you might have terrified her, Strange?" you heard Tony ask as your eyes remained shut to the world around you while you shrank back farther in fear as a snap of the sorcerer's fingers rid you of what remained of your tattered outfit before your bound and naked form was then moved away from the other two deranged monsters to the bed prepared specially for you.

"Of course he did, Tony.  Look at that thing," Steve replied and tentatively opening one eyelid now as the sheets beneath you caressed your thoroughly exhausted and naked body, you shut it just as quickly however when the terrifying visage of the bird that brought you back to this nightmare filled your vision once more as it now settled on a perch above your head in a makeshift headboard that was by far the most horrifying scene you had witnessed thus far.  Which is why you wished this terrifying experience would end there.  But these beasts had plans that totally went against anything you now wished for.

Hoping against hope now that your tiny movements would go unnoticed, all hope was dashed like waves against the shore however when the final voice reached your ears as Doctor Strange snickered and ran his fingers now along your moistening cheek.  "Well that's my bad I guess, but you didn't exactly live up to your end of the deal now did you?" he questioned as he snapped his fingers once more and magically shed all the clothes covering up his impressive physique while you watched in abject horror as his equally terrifying companions did the same.  Not that their actions distracted you too long however as his words solidified in your brain and brought you back to some semblance of your usually rational self.

"Deal?" you questioned forcefully now as the three fully naked men focused solely on you then in a way that told you they couldn't wait to see what argument you planned to set forth.  But you simply ignored them and continued on before your nerve and this sudden burst of anger faded to be replaced with fear and panic once more.  "What deal?  I never agreed to any of this.  Why the hell would I?"

"Well now, that is true I'm afraid.  You never did willingly agree to be ours,” Tony interrupted before allowing the evil Doctor Strange to clarify further.  “But you are the one who signed the contract for the party while your boss was out of town.  After that it was simply a matter of adding a few extra lines of text here and there and now you belong to us forever ... body and soul.  Isn't magic wonderful?" he finished with an inhuman laugh then as he now looked over at his companions and winked at them before speaking once more while his fingers delicately wormed their way down your trembling body towards your weeping flower as his lips came to rest against the shell of your ear.  "So which one of us do you want to be fucked by first, princess?”

And not waiting for a response however, all three of these fallen heroes descended towards the bed and spent the following hours claiming your body in every manner of depraved sex act that fueled their lust and forced you to accept everything they gave you despite the screams that tore forth from your lungs, shattered your soul and remade you into the perfect vessel from which they planned to start a whole new brood of dark heroes with you as their chosen queen.

[insilanar]

Any lestappen fic rec to share ? 😣 Any favourite author on ao3! I need some!

Hi anon 😘 Of course! In fact I've actually been working on a personal fic rec, so I'm glad I get to share it with you!

Here you go, hope you enjoy <3

Lestappen fic rec

Short-ish fics 🩵

control systems a College AU by @itsgoingdutchin2021 | 1.2 k

Summary:

Due to an unfortunate encounter in their freshman year, both Charles and Max hate each other. Then they are assigned a group project.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

<3

your hands are cold a High School AU by dhufflebee | 3.9 k

Summary:

“I feel like this event should really be called ‘Frosty Fusion’ or something like that.”“That is, of course, incredibly stupid.”“Hey!”“It doesn’t mean that ‘Snowmen Competition’ isn’t the most boring name ever, though.”OR: long-time friends and rivals Charles and Max hail from neighboring schools, and brave the biting cold, the challenges of snow sculpture, and their own buried feelings

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

<3

Kiss It Goodbye (Your Little Panic Attack) F1 Fic by @celientjeee | 5.1 k

Summary:

‘What- How did you do that?’ Charles asked, he still felt a bit shaken and hot, but the tingling had disappeared.Max smiled at him and let his hands drop away from Charles’ cheeks.‘I once read that holding your breath could stop a panic attack and when I kissed you, you held your breath.’‘I did?’ Charles winced at how high his voice sounded. OR: Charles gets a panic attack and Max helps him (more than once)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

<3

Fics between 10 k and 20 k 🧡

Cheating at Bingo and Other Christmas Traditions a Cozy Winter AU by @wanderingblindly | 12.4 k

Summary:

"You know, there’s a very nice, very handsome young man in my neighborhood –” She starts back up, flagging down their waiter for another glass of wine.“Absolutely not,” He cuts her off with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Next topic.”“So you’re too good for him, is that it?” She sounds defensive, but her tone still has a mocking edge to it – emphasized by the quirk of her brows.Hardly holding back a groan, Charles tries to think of a way out of this. She’s like a cat, batting at him until he gives up, rolls over, and plays dead. “That’s not – I’m just busy, and it’s –” OR: Hallmark style fluff featuring an irritated Charles, a well-meaning Max, and the grandma that just wants them to kiss

Rating: General Audiences

<3

Golden Hour a Uni AU by Chariots4 | 13.2 k

Summary:

Max is a great roommate. So great that when Lando asks him to be part of a music video he’s filming he does so, without asking what it will be about.Turns out he will have to model with no other than Charles Leclerc. As lovers. The two men’s desire to not be outdone by the other takes the whole thing to new levels.

Rating: Explicit

-> This is also a personal favorite of mine since it was my first ever Formula 1 RPF fic and honestly, it's written amazingly well!👌

<3

oui chef a Chef AU by @sunshineyoujustwait | 16.2 k

Summary:

There’s someone standing in his kitchen.He looks young, maybe close to Max’s age, with messy dark brown hair that’s pulled back from his face by a red bandana, and he’s leaning against the kitchen counter like he’s supposed to be here.Max’s first rather unhelpful thought is; fuck, he’s gorgeous. His second, more reasonable thought is;“Who the fuck are you?”“Charles Leclerc,” the man smiles. It's a little bit dazzling and Max is not at all distracted by it. He extends his hand for Max to shake. “I’m your new executive sous chef.” OR: Max is very happy with his life, thank you very much. He has his restaurant, his team, and two Michelin stars at the age of 24. He definitely does not need some pretentious Monegasque chef coming in and throwing everything into chaos.Except, maybe he does.

Rating: General Audiences

<3

you got me a College AU by @fueledbyremembering | 16.6 k

Summary:

When Max looks up he stares into pretty green eyes behind black rimmed glasses. His hand is still blindly feeling around to find the books—his brain lagging—as he stares at the guy from last night. He straightens up and Max follows, staring dumbly as he holds out the books for Max to take.“Thanks,” Max says, feeling like an idiot as he takes the books, their fingers brushing for a split second. This was not how he wanted to meet again. “Again, I’m so sorry.”The guy smiles and Max thinks he might just die a little when he notices he has dimples. Of course he has dimples. OR: Max falls head over heels for the cute guy at a college party and he can't stop thinking about him (aka the lestappen college au nobody needs).

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

<3

Fics above 30 k ❤

Late night devil put your hands on me a Thief/Detective AU by @f1-giuki | 42.1 k

Summary:

"Do you want to know what is more incredible?" Max asks, staring at Charles' full and round pecs without any shame. "What?" Charles asks, enjoying how Max's cheeks get redder and redder as he licks clean the fork. "Stealing the Nine Pieces of Eight, with me," Max says and Charles drops his fork in the plate. "The Nine pieces of eight? Isn't that like a legend? The owner of those artworks is unknown…" The Monegasque asks, furrowing his brows. Max grins and rolls his eyes. "I know a guy..." Max says, pulling Charles close by the elastic band of his boxers. OR: World-class thief Max Verstappen asks Interpol Detective Charles Leclerc out on a date (to put on the world's most complicated heist ever conceived) but things never go as planned.

Rating: Mature

<3

To Your Heart’s Content a Mafia AU by @cornerofacry | 119.4 k

Summary:

Max pinched the bridge of his nose as he went into the car. Before his chauffeur could close the door, however, Daniel leant in, having rushed from the bar’s entrance."I forgot to tell you…" the Australian begun, his face serious and grave.Max gritted his teeth, silently nodding for the man to continue. He couldn’t stand much more. He wanted to scream at the entire world. To run home and hide and force some sense down his own throat.To put himself back together."I left a- a gift at your house. For your birthday… I planned it long ago, before-""Alright," Max cut him, short and harsh. OR: Charles, a high end prostitute, finds himself in the arms of a man who really, really, cares for him, despite the gun on his nightstand.

Rating: Explicit

<3

Favorite lestappen authors 💕

NovaCloud, Richardmarie75, WanderingBlindly, xxcelientje, amarynas, charlescoded, LestappenForever, linearity

Note to the authors: If your fic is on here and you would like me to take it down I will. Feel free to just dm me about it or drop and ask 😌

And anon I hope you find something you like on this list!

[ar-ghilas-vir-banal]

@fenharel-babe this is your fault. You left some tags and… time for me to live up to the gut-wrench of my name, I guess.

Memory was cruel.

His was sharp, acutely efficient at recalling the most minute details, from a scent on the breath of an Elvhen noble to the pauses between words meant to convey emphasis.

He could remember the first time he saw her. Laid flat on a sour straw pallet, drenched in sweat, the green glare of his Mark on her palm. Solas hadn’t focused much on her face then; he’d noted the Dalish markings of Mythal and that was enough of a reason not to examine the woman’s features for too long.

Would that he had. Would that he had simply stopped and allowed each and every single moment of their time together stretch for as long as they possibly could. There was always something drawing his attention. Always the next event, or mission. Always a bit of research.

And there was the matter of the Inquisitor’s own duties. She had been cast headlong into a den of vipers and she was at war from all sides, besieged and harried, fighting for not only her people and the world… but herself. Her personhood.

Her true self.

“I feel safe with you, my Solas,” she’d said once.

He could remember smiling at being called hers. He wanted to be. He longed to rise in the morning, warmed by her body and spirit, to live days at her side performing only simple tasks of the home together. It was the dream he liked best, even if it increasingly cut away at his heart; dreams with no chance of coming true were often jagged, weighty things.

Solas had also taken pride in the fact that out of all of their companions, he was the one in which she sought refuge and respite. He was the calm for her storm. There were times when he felt that his heart could soar for her, on the wind of her success and triumph…

Now, Solas felt as if his chest contained a fractured shard of obsidian. It sliced away at him with each breath, each push of blood through his lyrium-formed veins.

She lay still. As still as she had in Haven. The arm he’d severed some years back rested at her side. Her hair, longer with time, fanned out behind her head. Her face was serene and soft as driven snow. Not a crease, not a flaw; the blood from the wound in the center of her body had been cleaned away.

She could have been one of his paintings.

Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain were no more. Rook and the surviving Veilguard core team were quiet now, mourning their own dead. Morrigan was… somewhere. The various groups Rook had allied with were working on the wounded, fighting. Trying.

He hadn’t even been able to fight for her. She had been gone when he’d reached her. Face slack. Eyes wide open. She’d looked so small. Abandoned. Alone.

The Nevarran professor, Volkarion, Solas recalled numbly, had helped him bear up the Inquisitor. He was a slender man, graying of hair. But with kind eyes and an even kinder heart. He’d not made Solas speak while he made a place for them. Emmrich had even been so good as to find something to place under her head, and covered her with his own cloak.

It had been hours since it was all over. Solas hadn’t moved. He’d sat beside her, clasping her hand, watching her face. Pleading. Pleading with whatever gods there had ever been, in dreams or in the waking world, pleading with his own magic, with any Spirit that might hear him…

Elgar’nan had stabbed her with a blight tendril. He’d laughed, sensing Solas’ shock upon seeing her. Connecting the dots, as Sera once said.

Something in the mere recollection of their old Inquisition partner broke loose a final barrier within him, and Solas leaned on the table where Emmrich had laid his love, and wept.

He touched her arm, her shoulder, her face. Whispered her name. She had only wanted him to love her. And he had been too bent on his own internal morality that he’d refused both of them what they truly desired. Over and over he had pushed her away, but she had never stopped following him.

Solas had heard her calling out to Rook in the battle, Elven flying from her tongue, strong and swift. She’d moved with a grace befitting Andruil, quick and agile. Determined. She’d run to him, intent on freeing him from a huge arm of Blight. And she’d succeeded... Her life was the price for his freedom.

“Vhenan,” Solas begged. “I stopped, I- I will not… please. Please.” She, of course, did not answer. All Solas could do was hold her dead hand, kiss her dead lips, and hate every fiber of his being for bringing her to this fate.

It was exactly what he had done. He might as well have plunged the Fang into her heart, as well as Varric’s. He’d never deserved a second of her time. He’d never earned the gentle touches, the embraces round his back that made him want to melt… the kisses. The precious touches of her hands.

“She got your letter.”

Solas shuddered, unable to lift his head from her. But the knowledge seemed to claw its way through him, a demon born of grief. She’d come because of him. Why had she loved him? What in him had she been so… why? Why couldn’t she have loved one of the others? Blackwall… Thom? Or the General? Bull… they would have been good to her.

“For what it’s worth… she wouldn’t have been anywhere else. She spoke of you so… she never gave up. You proved her right. Stopping…”

“I killed her… I-“

Rook drew near, boots scuffing the ground. Their hand rested on his back. “… I’m so sorry, Solas. She deserved that future she wanted… she dreamed of being with you, you know? You were happiness to her… even just… the thought of you.”

“I wish she’d never loved me,” Solas whispered, cradling her face in his hands. He’d never held her with abandon before, placing his hands exactly where he wanted. Where she wished. He could never.

“Solas… I’m sorry but… I have an idea.”

Solas didn’t immediately look up. But he sighed, heavy, exhausted… he hoped he was dying. He hoped it would all just stop. Drawing back, he kept the Inquisitor’s hand, brushing his lips to her knuckles. Her fingers.

“Please leave me alone,” he asked in a gray, lifeless voice.

“It is just that… the Veil needs a source of power. To remain effective, a life must supply it.”

“Please…”

“You’re not hearing me, Solas. If your life could sustain the Veil… it could sustain her. I am a necromancer. Her spirit is here, with you. It will always be, until you release it. Stop for a moment… feel for her.”

Rook’s hand withdrew, giving Solas space. He lifted his head a bit, letting his eyes close. Tears fell across his cheeks, down his neck. His mind was so very tired, battered. He wished to stop… to cease.

“Vhenan?”

All at once, there she was. Warm. The light. He couldn’t see her but… she was there. As if his use of the name, her name, had given her just enough tether to let him see her.

“What must I do?” Solas half-sobbed, opening eyes that pled with the Professor, and then with Rook, who clasped his shoulder. Steadying him.

“Shed your blood, for the Veil and for her, let… let them mix.”

“Dorian.” How long the Wizard had been there, Solas didn’t know. But the man looked every bit as wrecked as Solas felt. They looked at each other across the broken down courtyard, matching haunted stare for haunted stare.

“I’m here for her, Solas. This wouldn’t be if it wasn’t for you… but she wants… wanted you. You fail, at least you’re protecting the world she loved. The world she died for.” Then Dorian’s face darkened, hardening. “And you will protect it.”

Solas swallowed, nodding once. There weren’t any words to speak.

Rook slipped something into Solas’ hand. The dagger. “Here… best hurry.”

He’d never done anything so easily in his long life as draw the blade over his hand. It stung, but he turned toward the glowing rift behind them, and slung the cupped handful of his own blood at it. It pulsed as if receiving it. Then Solas gingerly pulled open the Inquisitor’s tunic and laid the flat of his cut palm over the wound near her heart.

“Please,” he whispered, bending close to her, gathering her up to his chest. “Vhenan, please.”

But she just slumped there, her head nestled into the hollow of his shoulder. Not a stir of breath. Not a twitch.

Dorian stepped forward but Emmrich held up a warning hand. “The bond must be made. Give it a moment.”

Rook fidgeted, rocking side to side worriedly.

Only the necromancer watched with a serene understanding. And then… a slow smile.

“Mm… what… Solas? Solas…”

He wept. He’d broken before Mythal, as she released him. He’d shed tears so often in the Fade that Spite had remarked that he smelled of them… as well as in the Lighthouse. But never like this. Solas collapsed, knees buckling under him. He pressed his face into the Inquisitor’s lap, clutching her to him, unable to do anything else.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-“

“Solas! Solas, Vhenan, Vhenan.”

She was crooning at him, her voice was divine, she was alive, she was alive!! Her hand smoothed over his neck, the back of his hand and shoulders. Then she made him look at her, and she smiled…

“Ar lath ma,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes. “I knew you could save us. I knew you could.”

He surged up into her arms, lifting her, shivering under her kiss at his forehead and temple, and then, miracle of miracles, Solas kissed her. It was a tearful, graceless thing full of trembling lips and hands that clutched at the other too tightly.

And it was perfect.

How Solas allowed her to leave his arms, he couldn’t ever know. She didn’t let go of him, though; she gave him her prosthetic hand to close his around.

Dorian wept but kissed his best friend’s forehead. “Take your wolf on home, now.”

Rook and Emmrich gave her encouraging smiles.

She tugged at his hand, giving him a wide, unrepentant smile. “Vhenan. Ir ghilana.” So he allowed her to lead him. Up the steps. Across the platform.

“Hamin.”

“Solas. Garas.”

He drew her close, close enough to see the flecks of green dance in her eyes. Her alive, vibrant, empowered eyes. “Ar ghilas vir banal… .” She was bound to him, to his life force… but the thought of her suffering his own fate. There would be a time where he may find atonement… but peace… no. Not if she remained. But she should remain.

The Inquisitor shook her head and smiled. There was nothing but pride and love in her face. It made Solas want to bow down to her. “Tel’banal ar ama. Vir shiral malasa… bellanaris.”

She kissed him. Short and gentle. It took his very breath. And then she tugged at him again. “Garas.” When the rift sealed behind them, neither looked back.

[autumnshighlady]

Teacher's Pet

Nesta Archeron x female!reader

first part in The Professor Series

summary: Dr. Archeron is the strictest professor you've ever had. No matter how hard you try, you can't get her to praise your work. That is, until she calls you into her office

warnings: smut, power dynamic, mean Nesta Archeron, 18+ only

word count: 3.7k

request: my legs shake just thinking about Professor Nesta x reader. Nesta being a serious, rigid and sadistic teacher. And the student being the typical exemplary student

a/n: this is part one of my professor series! each fic will be on the shorter side so I can get as many characters done as possible. Enjoy!

series playlist on Spotify here

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

You sat in the centre seat at the front row of class, furiously scribbling down notes in your book. Your hand ached with the effort to keep up with the professor’s sharp voice, but you fought through it. The echoing of pens on paper filled the lecture hall, a dull background noise amidst the lecture on classical literature. It was the only class where every single student paid attention and behaved, for fear of suffering the wrath of the icy professor, Dr. Nesta Archeron.

The female was the most feared teacher in Velaris, known for her sharp tongue, tough grading, and zero tolerance policy for bullshit. She commanded the classroom like a general over an army, with complete and utter authority. She was also the hardest one to get praise from, much to your disappointment. You were a straight-A student, always at the top of your class. Your teachers had always loved you, often commenting on your intelligence and eagerness to learn. 

All except Dr. Archeron.

No matter how hard you tried, you were unable to get a single positive comment from her. The most you’d gotten was a nod of her head, and even that earned you hushed congratulations from your classmates around you. Therefore, you had made it your mission to get one compliment from her before you graduated. And you had three months left, and so far nothing.

It was particularly difficult to concentrate today, however. The professor had her hair done up in its usual coronet, a few loose strands framing her sharp face. She was wearing a black turtleneck that hugged her curves, forcing you to keep your eyes on her face. It was paired with a dark brown pencil skirt and sheer black tight underneath, topped off with knee high black boots. In other words, she looked stunning. Well, she looked that way every day, but for some reason today your brain decided to fixate on it even more.

God, those boots made you want to just drop to your knees in front of her–

“Miss (Y/N).” A familiar sharp voice snapped you out of your trance, making you look up. Dr. Archeron was staring down at you, an unimpressed scowl written across her features.

“Yes, ma’am?” You asked, voice quiet. Your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, and you just wanted to crawl under the desk beneath her grey gaze.

“Did you even hear my question, or were you too busy daydreaming?” She demanded, arms crossed.

“No ma’am.” You answered sheepishly, wringing your hands together. “If you could possibly repeat–”

She cut you off, voice as cold as ancient stone. “No. This is the third time I’ve caught you distracted in this class today. Since I’m clearly distracting you from daydreaming, you have no reason to be here.”

Your heart dropped in your stomach. Never before had a teacher spoken to you this harshly. It made tears well up in your eyes. “Professor–” You began to protest, but were interrupted once again.

“Leave, now. See me in my office at 5pm.” She did not spare you a single glance as she turned away to resume the lecture.

Fighting back the tears, you gathered your stuff as hastily as possible. Nearly tripping over your bag, you scurried out of the classroom, letting the door slam aggressively behind you. It was childish, and you regretted it immediately once you realised you’d have to face the professor again later.

5pm was a strange time to meet in her office, you thought to yourself. Normally most professors have left campus by then, but you didn’t think much of it. Tossing your stuff on a nearby bench, you sat down and put your head in your hands. You couldn’t hold the tears back any longer, and they began to fall down your face. You spent the entire semester trying to get Dr. Archeron to like you, and you had just blown it. All because your stupid brain got distracted by how good she looked. You were no better than a man.

“Hey, doll.” The cheerful voice of the archival studies professor, Dr. Helion, sounded a few feet away.

You quickly wiped your tears, trying hard as possible to hide the evidence of your crying before lifting your head to meet his bright gaze. “Hi, Dr. Helion.” You said, hoping he was on his way to a meeting or something and would pass by.

The professor paused, cocking his head. “What’s wrong, sugar?”

His kind voice broke your composure, and you began crying again. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. Helion was not phased, however. He took a seat next to you, placing a large hand on your shoulder. “It’s ok.” He murmured, rubbing your back. “Let it out.”

After a few minutes of sobbing underneath the professor’s touch, you finally caught your breath. You felt a little better having cried – Dr. Helion was the go-to professor for informal life advice. He was popular amongst the students not just for his stunningly good looks, but his wisdom. You knew you weren’t the first student to cry on his shoulder, and wouldn’t be the last.

“So,” He said. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“My literature class,” You mumbled, wiping your hair from your face. “I got kicked out.”

Dr. Helion frowned. “Kicked out? What’d you do, kill someone in the middle of class? You’re my best student!

You laughed. “I think I’d feel better if I had killed someone and gotten kicked out. She just… Dr. Archeron got so mad because I missed her question. I don’t think I deserved to be kicked out for that. I have to go see her in her office later today, I’m worried she’s going to fail me or something.”

Dr. Helion sighed, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “That’s fair. Dr. Archeron is tough, that’s for sure. See what she has to say when you meet with her, then give her your side of the story. She’s strict, but reasonable. Don’t let it get to you. You’re a brilliant student.”

You smiled at him, the anxiety in your stomach easing up at his comfort. “Thank you, professor.”

“Anytime.” He stood up and began to walk away, but turned to face you one last time. “Just between you and me, she likes you. That’s why she was so tough on you. She wants you to succeed.” Helion flashed you a wink before departing down the corridor, leaving you more confused than ever.

Dr. Archeron liked you? Enough to mention it to Dr. Helion? It seemed like she hated you just as much as any other student. It only made your nervousness come back as you checked the time, groaning when you realised you had six hours to kill before your meeting with Dr. Archeron. Literature was your only class for the day, and you lived all the way on the other side of the city. It wasn’t worth the long trek there and back, so you decided to find something to eat and review next week’s readings while you waited.

****************

Finally, 4:55pm came. You checked your outfit one last time in the bathroom mirror. You donned a simple pair of leggings with a low-cut red tank top that made your boobs look good. A soft grey cardigan was draped over your shoulders, your hair left down and framing your face. You normally tried to look a bit less casual, but today was not your day it seemed. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves you took the steps down the hallway to Dr. Archeron’s office door.

4:58pm.

You paced back and forth outside her door, overthinking. You weren’t sure if you should wait two minutes in case she was busy, or if you should knock early. At this point, you didn’t want to do anything to risk her wrath again, so you continued to pace until you heard a stern, “Come in, (Y/N).”

Sighing, you pushed open the door and stepped inside Dr. Archeron’s office. It was a beautiful space – rich, wooden shelves with hundreds of old books lining them, a large green sofa with plush white pillows at either end, and a beige rug in front of the desk that adorned the centre of the room. The professor didn’t look up as you closed the door behind you. “Were you trying to make a hole in the floor? I could hear you pacing from in here.”

“Apologies, professor.” You muttered, taking a seat in the armchair across the desk.

“Speak up.” She demanded, still not sparing you a glance as she continued writing something on a piece of paper.

“I…” Your voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. You were at a loss – normally you excelled in conversation with professors, the skill coming naturally to you. But your throat was dry, and no words came out.

Finally, Dr. Archeron looked up at you. Her grey eyes met yours, utterly unflinching. “You’re nervous.” She stated rather than asked.

You paused the wringing of your hands. “No–”

“Let’s not lie to each other, shall we?” The professor said, putting down her pen and resting her elbows on the desk. “I’ll try again. You’re nervous.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You make me nervous.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself. You felt your face getting red again. To your surprise, the corner of Dr. Archeron’s lip twitched.

“Because I’m a strict, heartless professor?” She said casually. “I know my reputation. I’m proud of it. It gets students to obey me. I’ve heard many great things about you, miss (Y/N). You’re a star student. Perhaps I make you nervous because I don’t sing praises in your ear for everything you do?”

You flinched at her harshness. It felt like an insult, like she was mocking you for being praised so much. Defeated, you admitted a quiet “Yes.”

You looked down at your hands as the sound of a chair scraping on the floor echoed throughout the room. High heels clacked on the wood as the professor walked around to the front of her desk. She was standing less than two feet away from you. “Look at me.” She said sternly. You obliged, lifting your chin up to meet her gaze. She stared down at you with a level of softness you hadn’t seen before. Her brows weren’t furrowed in disappointment, but relaxed in their natural arched position.

“Listen to me closely,” She said. “You do not need praise from me. You know why? Because you’re a good student and you know it. You don’t need it validated by me. Have confidence in your own intelligence and capabilities. A female as smart as you shouldn’t be reduced to tears just from me sending her out of class for zoning out.”

You sucked in a breath at her words. They were harsh, yes, but kind in their own way. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at her compliment, which was redundant to her point but you let it slide. “Thanks.” You said quietly, fighting to keep the smile off your face.

“Which brings me back to why you’re here in the first place.” Dr. Archeron continued, crossing her arms. “You zoned out three times today. You’ve been doing that lately and I want to know why. Is my content boring or do I just make you that nervous?”

“Your content isn’t boring, ma’am.” You said quickly.

She smirked, which unsettled you. “So it’s the second one then?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it. You had no idea what to say – either you denied it, and then had to come up with a bullshit reason why you were zoning out; or you admit the humiliating reason why your attention was drifting off to fantasyland where you were bent over Dr. Archeron’s desk and letting her have her way with you. “No–” You began.

“I thought you were going to be a good girl and be honest with me.” 

Your thoughts came to a screeching halt as her words hit you. Good girl, the phrase that was your unfortunate weak point. It seemed your professor knew it too, the way her smirk deepened at your reaction. “That’s what I thought.” She said, pride seeping into her voice.

You wanted to drop dead right then and there. There was no way you were getting out of this – she KNEW about your crush on her. You could tell she had figured it out a while ago, and was cornering you now to confirm it. You began spewing apologies faster than your brain could comprehend. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean–”

“I wouldn’t want your…. nervousness, let’s call it,” Dr. Archeron hummed, emphasising the word ‘nervousness’ in a mocking way. “To get in the way of your learning. Looks like it’s my responsibility to get you to relax around me.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

She placed a finger to your lips, shushing you. “Stand up.” She ordered. You obliged, pushing the chair back and letting the cardigan fall off your arms as you stood up. The room suddenly felt much smaller as Dr. Archeron took a step towards you. Her face was inches from yours, and you could smell her sweet scent around you.

“Dr. Archeron…” You whispered, not sure what you were asking.

“Nesta.” She corrected, voice gentle. “In here, you can call me Nesta.”

“Nesta.” You said, experimenting with the sound of her name on your tongue. You had never even dreamed of calling her by her first name. In all your wildest fantasies, you had only addressed her as ‘ma’am’ or ‘professor’. Never this intimate.

She took another step closer, her lips now centimetres from yours. “If you do not want this, you may leave at any time and we will never speak of it again.” She said calmly. “I will not hold you to anything.”

“Please,” Was all your dry mouth was able to muster. Thankfully, Nesta understood what you needed, and pressed her lips to yours. 

They were the softest lips you had ever kissed, tasting like spiced red wine against your tongue as you melted into her mouth. Nesta grabbed your hands and placed them on her waist, allowing you to touch her. “Relax.” She muttered against your lips. You squeezed her hip gently, and she groaned into your mouth, pleased. 

Nesta reached up and cupped your jaw in her slender hands, deepening the kiss further. Gods, you had never been kissed like this before. The world spun around you as you eagerly opened your mouth up to her, letting her tongue explore wherever it wished. You whined when her lips eventually left yours, gasping for breath.

“Don’t pout.” She scolded, reaching down and grabbing the bottom of your tank top. “Lift up your arms.”

You did so, allowing her to pull the tank top over your head and discard it somewhere on the floor. You had opted to go braless today, leaving your breasts exposed to the warm air of the office. Wetness pooled between your legs as Nesta shamelessly drank in your topless figure, her grey eyes darkening.

“You’re going to be a good girl for me and let me take care of you.” She said huskily. “I want you to relax around me. It’s your reward for being my top student.”

You nodded, reaching to grab her waist again. You needed her closer. Nesta obliged, but walked you back until your legs hit the large green sofa, forcing you to sit down. Nesta followed suit, landing beside you and wasting no time in bringing her hands up to your breasts to squeeze as her lips attached themselves to your neck. You whimpered, arching up into her touch. Her hands were strong, kneading at the flesh of your breasts as she sucked marks on your neck that sent a tingle up your spine and heat between your legs.

“That’s it, pet.” She purred. “Let me hear those pretty noises.”

You bit your lip, worried about any lingering students or staff hearing the noises you so desperately wanted to make. Nesta sensed your hesitation and brought her mouth down to your nipple, giving it a harsh suck and causing you to cry out. “That’s more like it.” She said, satisfied. You gripped her shoulders as she worked her mouth on your breast, biting and sucking and kissing before she moved to the other one.

Without thinking, you bucked your hips in the air, yearning for some relief. Nesta released your right breast with a lewd popping noise. “Desperate already, are we?” She teased, trailing a finger down your stomach to the top of your leggings. “Normally I’d have you on your knees begging for it, since you didn’t listen to me several times today. But just this once, I’ll let it slide. You’ll learn my rules soon enough.”

You lifted your hips, granting her access to pull your leggings and panties off in one go. You were instantly naked on her couch, the slick between your legs visible. Nesta unabashedly stared down at your newly exposed pussy, licking her lips like a cat. “My, my, you’re soaked, pet. Is that all for me?” She cooed, running a finger lightly over your slit.

“Yes,” You gasped at her touch. “All for you.”

Seemingly pleased with your eager answer, Nesta kissed your lips once again, muffling your moans as she gathered your wetness on her fingers and rubbed your clit. Your body sang in response, her hand applying just enough pressure to take the edge off but not enough to push you towards the edge. You had a death grip on the couch cushion, toes curling as your fantasies unfolded before you. 

After rubbing your clit for a few minutes, Nesta harshly pushed you into the couch so you were laying down, head propped up on one and while your lower body was just at the edge. She kissed her way down your chest, then your stomach, then her lips hovered above your core. “Beg.” She demanded sternly.

“What?” You breathed heavily. “But you said–”

“I changed my mind. You make such pretty sounds. I want you to beg me to eat you out.”

“Please…” You whimpered, closing your eyes.

“Do better. And look at me while you beg.”

You opened your eyes and groaned at the sight of Nesta’s face less than an inch away from where you wanted it most. “Please, Nesta.” You begged. “Please touch me. Please eat my pussy, I’m begging. I need you, please.”

“Much better.” Nesta said before lowering her head and licking up your slit. You let out a deep moan, back arching into her touch. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around her body, pulling her closer and causing her to chuckle against you, which sent vibrations down your legs. Her golden brown hair was glowing in the light from all the different candles in the room, making her look like a goddess kneeling before you, a mere mortal in comparison. Nesta’s tongue was as skilled as it was sharp, flicking against your clit in a way that made your legs involuntarily twitch.

The room was filled with lewd slurping sounds and moans. In the back of your mind, you wondered if anyone could hear you. Surely, most staff were gone by now, having headed home for the weekend. Any remaining students would be in the other building studying for the last few hours. But you couldn’t deny that the possibility of someone hearing the noise from Nesta’s office excited you. You were a good student, never in a million years did you think that you’d be naked in a teacher’s office with your legs spread for them.

Two of Nesta’s fingers slipped inside of you, curling upwards and instantly finding that spot that made you see stars. Your hand reached down and grabbed her hair, fingers messing tangling in her perfect braid. You whimpered – her tongue and fingers felt so good, you weren’t sure how long you could hold off your climax. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, with Nesta between your legs and your head thrown back in pleasure on her couch. But that familiar tension began to build up in your stomach, and your breaths began shortening.

“That’s it, pet.” Nesta muttered against your clit, her hot breath on the bundle of nerves intensifying the pleasure. “Be a good girl for me and cum. Let yourself go.”

Minutes later, you felt your legs twitch as the coil in your abdomen finally snapped, sending your release barrelling through your body. You moaned out Nesta’s name, tightening your grip on her hair and bucking your hips into her face. The world spun around you, falling away as you got lost in your pleasure. Your clit began oversensitive beneath her mouth as she came down from your high, sending waves of fuzziness through your legs.

You panted heavily as Nesta finally pulled her lips and fingers from your cunt, opening your eyes and watching in awe as she stuck her fingers in her mouth and sucked the remaining juices off. “You taste as sweet as you look.” She purred, planting a kiss on your lips before striding over to where your clothes had been discarded. All you could do was lay there, gathering your bearings and wondering if it was all just a dream.

With a tenderness you didn’t know she possessed, Nesta helped you get dressed. She gently pulled the leggings on, and eased your arm through the armholes of the tank top while you pulled it down. Once she finished draping your cardigan over your shoulders, she stopped back, her face smug. “I expect now you’ll be less nervous around me, won’t you?” She said coolly. 

You couldn’t help but smile sheepishly. “Yes, I think so.”

Nesta folded her arms. “Good, but don’t think this gives you a free pass for anything. I still expect the best from you, whether I praise you for it or not. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled wickedly, returning to her seat at her desk and picking up a pencil, continuing her work. Save for the now messy coronet hair, she looked exactly as she had when you first walked in. “Good. Now get out of my office.”