ₓ˚. ˚○◦LET MY HEART BE HARDENEDₓ˚. ˚○◦˚.˚ 📢MINORS DNI📢 🫧🪙Requests on hold, and not garenteed, I reserve the right to ignore/delete any requests at this time🫧🪙 🎹♟️BE WARNED! THE CURRENT REQS LIST IS LONG AS FUCK- YOU WONT SEE AN ANSWER FOR A LONG TIME🎹♟️ 🕯️🎱i don't post/engage with trolls, please don't waste your time🕯️🎱
🎙️ THIS IS A DARK WRITING ACCOUNT!!!! CONSIDER THIS A GENERAL WARNING FOR DARK THEMES AND TRANSGRESSIVE TOPICS ON ANY GIVEN WORK! READER DIGRESSION IS ADVISED! YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! THIS IS MY OWN PERSONAL SAFE SPACE FIRST AND FOREMOST, PLEASE BE RESPECTFUL! 🎙️
my name is rue, or roberta if you wanna address me formally for some reason
she/her
20s
cancer sun, libra moon, sagittarius rising
INTP
Melancholic temperament
Requests on hold, and not guaranteed
Anti-censorship, pro freedom of expression
i <3 lurkers
Born with an unquenchable hunger for older men, prescription pills, and violence
BYF/DNI
Rules for Requests
Currently Writing For/ A Little About Myself
MASTERLIST
My Main
Spotify
Letterbox’d
BACKUP ACCOUNT/ARCHIVE
🚬🎂⛓️🤍🕯️🎠
"Sexually progressive cultures gave us mathematics, literature, philosophy, civilization and the rest, while sexually restrictive cultures gave us the Dark Ages and the Holocaust. Not that I'm trying to load my argument, of course."
"I saw no reason why you couldn't create a work of pornography that adhered to all the same standards as the best art or literature. The big difference between art and pornography is that art, at its best, makes you feel less alone. You see a painting or read a piece of writing that expresses a thought that you had but didn't express, and you suddenly feel less alone. Pornography, on the other hand, tends to engender. feelings of self-disgust, isolation and wretchedness. I wanted to change that."
john lennon is a profoundly beautiful man, but i feel like, (hear me out) if he were, like 50 pounds/22.7 KG fatter he would be perfect. like i see these photos and i just KNOW so much of the weight wouldve settled on his ass and thighs. and he would look 100 times better. i just know, alright-
i've been dead here for a while, and i am sorry for being inactive for ages and ages and ages- i love writing, i love shitposting, i love venting, i love making connections online and feeling less alone by expressing myself through writing and all that, and i have been working on the backlog of requests in the meantime, howeverrrrr-
im working on moving accounts and setting up a new page. not because im horrendously embarrassed by my old work or anything like that, or even because i dont want to keep writing for fandoms like TF2 or DBD or resident evil, but the thing is, im going to be a part of a big online project in the near future, and want to keep this part of my online identity a bit more *un-findable*
i cant say anything right now bc we're so heavily in the pre-production stage, but around august im gonna be a lot more involved and i dont want people who watch the project in question seeing this stuff.
dont even want to give hints or anything, but the fans of this online content are known to be WILDLY capable of finding the online history of people connected to this project. (deadass this one girl who was apart of the project for less than a week said her CNC tumblr alt account was found and sent to her mother after she appeared on the show - which is just.....) fortunately this project (not an original thing, obvi, im going to be joining the (REDACTED) season of, doesn't really have much of a following on tumblr, just an alarmingly passionate following on sites like reddit, twitter, 4chan, somewhat instagram, and youtube (also, to a lesser extent)
so what im getting at here is, im going to try and upload more of my older (re-edited) content to the AO3 account or something, i have Google docs of basically everything, so even if i have to just straight up re-upload stuff i can fall back on that. (i like AO3 as a site and all, but NGL, i've had some pretty hurtful comments on things posted there before, and like- i don't feel bad deleting them bc fuck you, it's my work, but still a bit hesitant to use that site 😬)
might edit/likely delete this later- but i also wanted to give a big thank you and shout out to people who have been sending me kind anons and messages during this period of inactivity. you are all so kind and even though im rubbish at answering publicly, ive read and cherished every message. sending you all so much love ❤️❤️❤️
also since ive gone inactive life has been. so very... ive been taken to the psych ward, gotten dumped, lost a job, gotten multiple police visits, quit ket, and thats just what comes to mind first.
Content Warnings: yandere, x reader, bondage, gambling, death games, frot, noncon, obsession, possessive/delusional, excessive spit, torture, biting, mind games, piss mentioned briefly (for humiliation purposes), it's Lucas Baker- so overall, unsanitary content ahead!
Word Count: 3.4k
MASTERLIST
TIP JAR
"Course I shoot the gun any chance I get. With blood on my clothes and my hands, I've done it again, I've done it again." (Nicole Dollanganger, Tammy Faye)
"The rational soul is stronger than any kind of fortune from it's own share it guides its affaires here or there, and itself the cause of a happy or miserable life." (Seneca, Moral Letters, 98.2b)
How long have I been stuck here? How many people have I played against? Will it ever end? For hours, these repetitive thoughts ran through your mind. Shackled into a padded wooden electric chair, strapped into place by thick leather belts across both ankles, over both elbows, around your waist, and across your lap. You could move your right arm freely, but your left hand was stuck in place, ensnared in some deathtrap, threatening to end your life in a matter of minutes through painful electrocution. Despite the odds, you managed to win three games of Lucas Baker's version of blackjack. But you'd taken some severe damage in the process, suffering four powerful shocks from the torture machine you were strapped into.
By now, you were forced to watch three other players shocked to death right across the table, less than a meter away from where you sat. Their pleas for mercy, screams of pain, the dull thump of their lifeless heads against the back of their chairs.The scene before you felt too traumatized to be reality. You wanted to believe the last few hours were a morbid nightmare. Yet the ungodly stinging pain in your left arm, the scent of burning flesh, and, of course, that nonstop twanging voice playing over speakers kept you viciously awake.
You would do anything to fall asleep, for any kind of a break after all you'd endured. But your brain remained on high alert, waiting for Lucas to announce the next round at any second, for the room to fall dark as the corpse of your opponent was disposed of and the next player brought in. You couldn't imagine how Lucas could remain watching from another room and rotate players simultaneously. Likely, he wasn't working alone. The idea of another person, completely invisible to you, watching from the shadows, terrified you, and you tried your hardest not to think about it.
Yet, to your surprise, the room fell silent; the lights remained on as you were forced to stare down the dead body of your last rival.
As seconds ticked by, you let your head fall as you sobbed, too ashamed to look at the dead body across the table. Keeping your eyes shut tight, you felt overly tense, just waiting for the dim lights and screens illuminating the room to go out, but they never did. Instead the sound of stock-audio applause played over the speakers. You opened your eyes just enough to watch the screens go from green back to Lucas, looking as wickedly playful as ever.
Slumped back in his chair, he slowly clapped, grinning at the camera, freakishly amused by your misery. Your eyes widened; I've won? The games were over now; you were the last player left alive; despite everything, you survived- whether you wanted to be here or not, there was no one but you and Lucas left alive.
For a long time, you waited, over-tensed with anxiety, for him to break the silence, but he said nothing, just continued to stare you down through the monitor until you couldn't take it anymore. "It's over now- isn't it? I've won?"
Lucas beamed, "Fuckin' A you won! Damn, you're runnin' hot tonight, sweetheart!"
If it's all over, why the hell is he still sitting there? "I get to go home now, right? You said if I win, I will go home!"
He threw his head back with a raspy laugh, "Slow down there! I said if you won you lived, I never said what would happen next."
And just when you dared hope to see the light of day again, Lucas brought you back to reality. The lights in the room suddenly faded to black, and you moaned in despair, almost expecting this meant you were on for yet another round of cards. But instead, the monitors went grey, providing just a bit of low lighting in the windowless room.
Something rustled in a far corner of the room, making the floor creak. It was Lucas; you knew instantly that it just had to be him. But how come you never heard a door open or close? How close had he been this entire time?
The floorboards creaked closer behind you, and your back went rigid with fear as you were absolutely helpless to defend yourself from the maniac drawing closer. Just when you were sure your heart would give out from the fear, you heard Lucas stop, and two long, lean arms slithered from over your shoulders behind the chair, interlocking and pulling your body even closer to the back of the seat as he purred in a nasally, rasp dangerously close behind you. "Watchin' you lay them other bitches out, I just couldn't help myself. Been stroking myself real slow watching you play, an' dam, you got no idea whatcha been doin' to me!"
His hands found your shoulders, kneading them harshly. You winced from the pain, and he couldn't help but laugh, "I ain't ever been so hard in my life!"
Shaking with fear, you felt his hands retract before strolling from behind the chair to stand directly before you. No longer hiding under his usual hood and long pants, he wore nothing but a stained off-white undershirt and red plaid boxers.
With one hand holding onto the back of the chair beside your right shoulder, Lucas consciously planted his knee between your knees and the other leg on the bit of space between your leg and the arm of the padded electric chair, kneeling over you before settling down to sit on your lap. "Game's over now. An' I gotcha all to myself." Wrapping his arms around your neck, he nuzzled against your skin, not-so-quietly moaning at the rush of skin-to-skin contact. It was an awkward position, but that wouldn't stop him now. After adjusting, he found a stable position, balancing his weight over yours. If you had an ounce of strength left in your body, you would've tried to buck him off, but all you could do now was sit back and take it.
Lucas was finally as close as he wanted to be for so long, and you could feel every rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled your scent, breathing in extra deep and slow, making sure you could feel the warm fanning of his breath against your neck. You hardly had any mobility strapped into the chair before, but now with Lucas pinning you down, poking your thigh with his erection from above, you had even less room.
Before you realized what was happening, Lucas brought both palms to the sides of your face, forcing your lips to connect to his. He was awkward, overly excited, and too eager to slip his tongue into your mouth, easily overpowering you into complying. The kiss was intense, needy, and absolutely foul, but you weren't strong enough to break away. Fortunately, it wasn't long until he let go with a loud sigh of pleasure, "Been waiting' too damn long for that!" He panted for a moment, allowing the pleasure of the kiss to wash over him, making his heart beat even faster and his mouth to fill with saliva at the thought of what was to come, mindlessly grinding his hips against yours lazily for a bit more friction.
Burying his head back into the crook of your neck, Lucas was eerily quiet, but before you could wonder why, you felt his hot, wet tongue slide against the thin, sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a filthy trail of spit behind. You couldn't hide the audible sound of disgust you made from this, straining to pull away as best you could.
Lucas chuckled, listening to your disgust. "Still got a little fight left in ya? Whatta ya say, you 'and me, one on one strip poker?"
You couldn't respond but merely moaned in anguish as you felt the repulsive feeling of his sweaty hand begin to grope harder against your thigh; if not for the protective layer of clothing, you didn't doubt his fingernails would dig nasty scratch marks into your flesh. Shaking your head, no, you almost dry heaved thinking about Lucas' naked body.
"Aw, don't wanna? Whassa matter, scared you'll lose?" He snickered; despite the room's low lighting, you were sure he could make out the agony all over your face, no doubt turning him on even more.
His hand moved from your outer thigh inward but paused for some reason, "Hang on, 'the hell is this?" Lucas's voice caught you off guard with an odd note of genuine confusion. Looking down, you saw Lucas' hand on the seat cushion, the space between your legs distracted by something. He probed the cushions with his fingers, rubbing them together curiously before bringing his hand below his nose and inhaling. To your confusion, Lucas suddenly burst into wicked laughter, gripping the back of the chair to keep from doubling over and hitting the floor.
You really didn't want to know what was so funny, but the look on your face must've said it all because as soon as he regained a bit of composure, he pointed back down at the space between your legs, "You're damn good at holding' your cards, too bad ya can't hold your water too!" His lame little joke sent him into another bout of laughter. It wasn't until he pointed it out that you realized what he meant. At some point, while playing, you pissed yourself, and you hadn't even noticed.
The disgust made your skin crawl, and you couldn't help but shudder, feeling your stomach flop, your head going limp, turning to the side, as far away from Lucas as the restricted mobility would allow of you. The act itself was mortifying enough, but his reaction made the pain sting all the more.
Snickering a little, he focused his attention back on you, drawing your face to focus back on him by cupping your cheek using the palm of his clean hand. "Aww, don't be like that- It's alright, you're scared now, it's cute!" Listening to his sinister voice "cooing" felt so weird.
Lucas pressed his forehead against yours, almost whispering, "But you'll come around. I know you will! I saw you lay those sons of bitches out! You're just like me!"
On instinct, you snapped your head away, choking out, "Didn't want to kill anyone… D-don't you dare say I'm like you."
Something about the soft, almost loving way Lucas looked at you made you angry, "Darlin', you ain't playing cards no more; no need to keep bluffing."
Not only was he forcing you to acknowledge exactly what you'd done, but he was proud of you for it, and you were enraged to the point of tears. "Not like you… Never be like you!"
Lucas wasn't listening to what you said. He was too caught up in his own arousal and ego to care about how you really felt. "I can't wait to see the look on the old man's face when he sees you 'and me!"
Relaxing a tiny bit against you in an almost-cuddle, he murmured, "All my damn life folks' been sayin' I aint nothin' but a bad seed, a fuck up, family disappointment, 'nd I always told 'em to fuck right off, but you- whew, you ain't like the rest of 'em."
A beat of silence passed before his lips were back against your neck, feeling up the sensitive skin with his lips and tongue, gently scraping his teeth over the wet patches of spit he left behind. The anxiety of his teeth on your bare skin made you swallow hard, trying desperately to keep calm and not do anything to provoke his excitement or, worse, his anger. It didn't feel arousing, but suddenly, you felt like you were back playing cards with your life on the line. Every breath felt like it could be your last, every movement a dangerous gamble. Lucas still held your life in his hands.
As Lucas worked with his mouth, his hands felt up your body, particularly interested in the places the leather straps met your skin, loving the feeling of the stiff leather contrasted by soft skin. He pulled up at your shirt until he could feel the skin of your waist against the strap connecting your back to the chair, grinding his hips straight down against yours, leaving you nowhere left to retreat.
While a thin man, the weight of Lucas on your lap, his greedy hands against your waist, his stench made it hard to breathe. But the feeling of his teeth clamping down suddenly against your neck makes you inhale sharply through grit teeth while he chuckled in amusement. The pain and surprise made you yelp and squirm even harder in the chair.
Lucas pouted with mock sympathy, "Aw, sorry 'bout that darlin', didn't mean to nip ya. 'Less ya wanted more?"
Without missing a beat, you fired back, "G-go to hell, you little shit!"
Lucas stared at you with the oddest look in his eye and a smile on his face, like he knew something you didn't, "Now, now, I know you're excited, but ya gotta watch that language of yours! Lil' Evie's always listenin'."
Stiffening with discomfort, you whispered, "Always… what?"
"An' she doesn't take kindly to outside folk disrespecting' her family." Lucas didn't bother explaining himself. He was having way too much fun scaring the hell out of you.
But for a moment, you weren't scared; you were enraged, "You all can go to hell!"
"Now, now- you keep on like that, an' someone's gonna hafta teach you a lesson. Learn to be a respectful guest in our home." Lucas chided you as though you were nothing more than a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.
For the first time all night, you almost wished you were back playing cards. "Well, if I'm such a rotten guest, why don't you let me go home, you psycho!?"
"She wouldn't like hearing that from ya. Not one bit." To punctuate his point, he disconnected from your skin, and for just a second, you had no idea what he would do next. Until you felt the stinging pain of Lucas' teeth sinking into your neck. Rolling back your head as far as the chair would allow, you let out a pathetic cry of pain, half wondering if this psycho was about to bite your throat off. Your entire body went rigid and tense with pain as Lucas pulled away for a brief moment, only to plant a second nasty bite, almost overtop the first. Pain-filled sobs filled the room as Lucas lapped at the tender wounds. Were you bleeding, or were you already dripping blood? It was impossible to tell.
While not howling with laughter, Lucas clearly enjoyed getting such a strong reaction from you, "H-hah! Oh, darlin', you really are something special, ya know that? Can't- aw fuck! Dunno how much longer I can hold out!"
Just do it! Just get it over with already! You screamed mentally. If there was anything you could do to end the torture faster, you would, even if that meant playing into Lucas' sick, perverted fantasy. It's not like you hadn't spent the past hours doing that. Bound almost entirely in place, there was little you could do to "help" Lucas out in this situation, but that didn't mean you were entirely helpless here.
Spreading your legs as wide as they could in the chair, Lucas' groin fell into place an inch closer to yours, catching him off guard, causing him to stall his rhythm ever so briefly, which you took as an opportunity to rock upwards against him. The friction caught him off guard, made his breath hitch with a moan, and his head to lull back; stealing your resolve, you forced a desperate whine for his attention, silently urging him on. Faster, harder, whatever he needed to do to climax, trying your hardest to convince him it was for the both of you.
"You like that baby! You want more?" He babbled, sounding almost drunk as he found his rhythm again, pounding against you even faster. His sweaty palms latched onto the back of the chair, helping him ground himself enough to dry-hump your lap while leaving messy, wet, open-mouthed kisses against your neck.
Internally, you tried to think about Lucas as little as possible, just like playing blackjack; all you needed to do was play his game until you won. Keep your legs spread as best you could, whimper for him, press your chest up against his, match his movements- as far as you were concerned, this was no different than playing another round of cards.
He was getting louder now but hardly speaking coherently, "M'so close, fuckin' hell! I'm almost there, c'mon baby, keep goin', keep goin'!" And with one final grunt of exertion, he came, fucking your thigh a while longer as he rode out his climax until he collapsed. Leaving the two of you to sit motionless, stewing in each other's body fluids.
Surely, you'd finally endured the worst of the night. At last, you were certain Lucas was satisfied; he was no longer grinding his full weight against you, just limply resting his body over yours. It wasn't a comfortable position, but it was certainly better than before. You croaked in a voice no louder than a whisper, "Lucas… Just let me go, please. I gave you what you wanted. All I want is to go home!"
He didn't look up, his head still resting on your shoulder, mumbling, "I ain't gonna do that."
"Lucas-" You tried to straighten up in the chair a bit, but his weight over yours kept you firmly rooted.
He eventually picked his head up a bit, sounding a bit less woozy than before, slowly coming down from his climax. "No. If I turned ya lose now, you ain't even makin' it outta the fuckin' house before somethin' gets to you first."
A sudden spark of wrath punctured your exhaustion, reigniting your hatred for the man who spent hours breaking you down psychologically and desecrating your body. Through grit teeth, you grumbled, "You dirty little liar!"
He glared at you, sitting back in the chair a little, separating his upper body from yours, "Listen,"
Now that you had a better look at Lucas, you remembered his smug, insufferable face on the monitors, watching gleefully as you were forced to play for your life. You wanted nothing more than for him to feel even a fraction of the pain he caused you. "No! You're a liar and a cheater, and that's why I'm stuck here! You're why I'm stuck here!"
In the blink of an eye, Lucas planted both palms on your shoulders, his fingers gripping you with inhuman strength. With such force, you wondered if his fingernails would break through your clothes, making you wail as you struggled against his grip. Lucas hissed, "Now you listen, and you listen real good, cuz I'm only telling you this once, honey. You don't have half a fuckin' clue what's goin' on outside this house, but I know you sure as hell ain't gonna win against 'em neither!"
As he increased his hold against your shoulder, you cried, fearing he would break a bone, "The only reason you're still breathing' is 'cuz I'm the one keeping you alive, you hear me! And if you step one toe outta this room, you're dead!"
He suddenly let go, allowing you to pull away, crushing your back further against the chair, tears clouding your vision as you tried to control your breathing. You didn't have the guts to meet Lucas' eye again. "I'm doomed."
Lucas' palm found your cheek, not with the painful force you expected, but just enough to tilt your face in his direction, even if you couldn't bear the sight of him, and kept your eyes closed as he spoke. "You'll live. An' you're gonna live as long as I'm here for ya. I don't need the old man or the old lady breathing down my neck no more. From now on, it'll just be us here to look out for each other. We're gonna make it!"
"your friends are an echo chamber" heyyyyy hey. hey. lock your phone right now and put it down. and walk until you get to the shore and then enter the body of water you encounter and stay in it till youre clean and whole with the world again
I have a request for a short little one✨ But only if you have the time and want to👍
So darling is like this smart, classy, intelligent woman spy meets and gets obsessed with and makes plans to manipulate her. But she ofcourse catches on and the next day she's gone, so spy has to hunt her down. When he does find her he has a completly new apperance due to his discuises and reader is genuinly interested in him. So one night they drink or something and darling gets drugs sliped in her drink so spy gets to fuck her un-discuised and she gets to have high, amazing sex with the person she dispises the most without even realizing it. Darling doesen't really know she's practicly been raped or find out it this man was spy all along! Yay!
Men will truly display some of the lowest depravity imaginable and then grab a shovel. (<- support class behavior)
Title: Unspoken Alliances
Character: Spy 🐍 (Team Fortress 2)
Rating: X (MINORS DNI, GO PLAY OUTSIDE)
Content Warnings: yandere, x reader, dubcon/deception, toxic relationship, drugging/forced intoxication (MDMA, ecstasy and alcohol), sensory deprivation, restraints, AFAB reader, mind games, revenge sex, marking/biting, teasing
Word Count: 7.2k
MASTER LIST
TIP JAR
"Love goes by haps; Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps." Much Ado About Nothing, Act 2 Scene 3, Shakespeare
"Any one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eye are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind's eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye." Plato's Republic Book VII
"So beautiful. What a tragedy you can't see it for yourself." His voice was low and breathy, almost purring. Close enough to feel his breath against your cheek as he stretched out beside you, but from your position, blindfolded and restrained by ropes laying on your back, just out of reach from the man in bed.
Ever since you shared a cocktail with the mercenary you believed to be Medic earlier that evening, you felt something special spark between you both. The moment that last sip of alcohol passed your lips, something awakened, aroused, and unrestrained by former inhibitions; in a matter of a few hours, the two of you wound up in the same bed. A touching act of intimacy overshadowed by two factors unknown to you. Firstly, it wasn't just alcohol you consumed, and second, the one who gave you that drink wasn't Medic.
Blindfolded, your hands were bound over your head with a soft, stiff black rope, the same rope which wound around both your ankles, pinning them down flat and securing them to the bottom bed legs. Keeping them fully extended and spread, you didn't need the ropes to comply, but he insisted. Annoyingly, you were still clothed, incredibly turned on, and unable to do anything to solve that problem yourself, forced to wait with agonizing anticipation for your partner to make the next move.
But that was your own problem, as the man was in no rush now that the hard part of the evening was over. After a rough start, Spy lured you back to his place to spend the evening with him, of your own free will- with just a bit of incentivizing from him. Exactly how he wanted you.
Spy tried to play fair at first, planning to court you civilly. Far be it from him to fall fast for a stranger, but it had been too long since he shared his bed with a woman, making Spy act a bit impulsively, almost desperately. However, even with sex on his mind, Spy didn't want to come off too imposing too soon. Better to appear mysterious, magnanimous, and charming to attract you closer rather than risk scaring you away by making his real intentions known.
He thought he was playing all his cards right. He'd been in this situation before more times than he bothered to remember. Spy invited you to an innocent cup of coffee with him during your lunch break to discuss work, his treat, of course. But despite Spy's best efforts to play things safe, after waiting fifteen minutes past the agreed time at the cafe, he understood with grim bitterness that you stood him up.
It hurt to be blown off like that, but Spy refused to allow this to be the end of it. He returned to work later and discovered you left hours before. He heard you complained about some kind of illness, but Spy knew you were likely just trying to avoid him or any confrontation. Fortunately, Spy was tipped off that you were planning on heading to another coffee house on the other end of town to finish your work, the kind open late into the night and was accustomed to customers occupying space for hours while chain-drinking caffeinated beverages.
It was naive to assume you could just run off to some cafe for a few hours while hiding from him.
It was all too easy for Spy to find you under the disguise of another, offer you a spiked drink, and watch you fall into his arms. Spy spared no precaution. Even with the MDMA pumping through your system, scrambling your sensory information and reasoning, he was too close now to risk you waking up. You were so needy and cute when you were drugged out of your mind. It made bringing you home and back to bed with him so easy. Letting him walk you upstairs to his bedroom while hanging off his arm, giggling, wearing the intoxication on your sleeve. If he wanted, Spy bet he could push you up against the wall and take you in the hallway, and you'd let him; you'd love him for it. But he had better things in mind for tonight.
During the drive home, Spy shed his disguise, carefully ensuring he had the cover of the darkness on his side before doing so, but when he checked on you using his peripheral vision, you were too out of it to notice a thing. Quiet jazz hummed through the static-softened radio, the scrape of windshield wipers against soft rain, and the quiet ambient sounds of traffic, all softening and melting together in your mind, making you feel like you were in a cozy dream.
If you were beautiful when Spy first met you, where you were focused, headstrong, and in "work mode," seeing you all tuckered out and woozy sprawled out in his passenger seat made you all the more desirable. So innocent and at peace, at this point in your drug-induced haze, you were beginning to detach from reality, your mind unraveling as a pleasurable brain fog began to roll in. But it was only a matter of time before the alcohol and MDMA really hit your system and, subsequently, your libido.
In a haze, you were brought from the front door to the one in his bedroom. To his surprise, you were somehow aware you were in his bedroom, and using a wall to support yourself, managed to peel away from Spy enough to wobble your way over to the bed, not bothering to turn on a bedroom light to find the bed. He felt a throb, watching the smile on your face as you sat on the edge before going boneless as your limp shoulders and spine made contact with the luxurious sheets. Conflicted, Spy wondered if you were so desperate to get into bed because of drowsiness or lust, but judging by the kisses shared before the ride over, Spy refused to believe you wanted this any less than he did.
Using his own body to support yours, and his shoulder to rest your head on, Spy lead you inside. It was a miracle he didn't accidentally uncloak himself before getting you home. You were so trusting to accept his drink and even allow him to goad you into drinking it so fast. Ever the sadist, Spy felt quite a stir watching you begin to nod off. Rubbing in the cruelty a little harder by skimming over the top secret documents you were working on before he showed up, the ones you were in charge of protecting, knowing he could use this as blackmail later.
As you slid into a comfortable spot in the center of the bed, making sure to slip off your shoes before entering, lying comfortably on your back, taking a moment to appreciate having somewhere so comfortable to stretch out. A sound halfway between a yawn and a sigh passed your lips as you lethargically made yourself comfortable. The bottom hem of your top just barely pulled upward as you stretched out, exposing the skin beneath to the comfortably chill bedroom air. Without thinking, you were about to pull your shirt off from over your head when Spy spoke from a few paces to your side. He stalked closer to the bed, his hands finding yours, thin fingers firmly wrapped around your hands, keeping them still. If you were clear-headed, you would've instantly detected how small the hands holding your own were, far smaller than Medic's ought to have been.
But logic and suspicion didn't matter now. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your entire body felt like an overextended tendon, full of anticipation just seconds away from snapping.
The excitement made you giddy. And childishly, you tried to fidget your hands out from his grasp while he kept you pinned in place without budging.
"C'mon- it's too hot in here, I wanna take everything off." The voice you heard hardly sounded like your own, so slurred and pouty.
In a far more measured voice, Spy responded, "Whining will get you nowhere. You're in my house now. You follow my rules here."
He sounded so cold and detached that you couldn't help but mope, trying to focus your gaze up at the smear of non-descript shadow where his face ought to be.
Spy felt a twinge of regret for being so harsh, "I promised I'd bring you here for a good time, didn't I? Be patient, and I will make it worth your time."
From your spot in bed, you stared up at Spy with wide, unfocused eyes and nodded once. Crouching down much closer to the bed, Spy's face was close enough now that you could feel his breath as it fanned against your own face. "Allow me to be the one to undress you tonight."
It wasn't a request. It was a definitive statement. Your eyes drift shut, as the mere thought of him undressing you made you throb. You wanted it so damn bad, but the best you could do to communicate such a want was a timid little nod and a vague noise of understanding.
"Tonight, we're doing this my way. Now lay nice and still for me." Without Warning, you felt his hand make contact with the side of your face, holding something soft and sleek in his hands.
Spy, holding a long, thin cloth with both hands, made an effort to secure the fabric over your eyes, but for just a moment, the trance was broken as you pulled away a bit confused and slurring, "Blindfold?" You tried to focus on the mass of shadows where his face was, trying to formulate a complete sentence was too hard, but you hoped he understood what you meant and would explain himself.
Rather than an explanation, Spy remained absolutely still but responded in a voice far less soft than before, practically growling, "As I said before, you're in my bed now. Now lay back and obey. I will not warn you again."
Without another word, you clenched your jaw shut and held your head as still as possible while he worked swiftly. Spy pulled away to sit upright in bed, "Give me your wrist." he ordered.
You knew better than to question him again and compiled without a word. Feeling a sick thrill for being ordered around like this. If you were sober, you might find such unquestioning obedience shameful, but if logic was already forgotten, shame followed soon after. You couldn't be bothered. It felt too good to allow someone else to take control after so much stress at work. There was no need to think; your body knew how to respond to his touch, obey commands, and submit.
It wasn't long until Spy managed to restrain both wrists together at the headboard and ankles to the bottom corners of the bed before you felt the bed dip beside you as he returned to his seat beside you.
Blindfolded and spread, you were a vision he'd never forget, even while fully clothed. And he couldn't help but smile as he crawled into place on all fours about you, hearing your breath deepen and how you couldn't stop fidgeting beneath him, feeling too hot under the layers of fabric that separated your body from his.
The feeling of his body so close to where you needed him the most, you tried to buck your hips upward where you thought he would be, only to come up too short below to get any friction, unaware of the pathetic little sounds you made tring to get any kind of stimulation from the man in bed.
Spy whispered, his voice dripping with faux sympathy, "Poor thing, you're looking so flustered. Is something wrong?"
You nodded and tried to speak but couldn't get any actual words out to urge him on. Spy snickered to himself as he rebalanced his weight onto one arm while he used his other to skim his hand over your shirt, just above your belly, stopping over your belt buckle as you stiffened up, expecting him to undo it for you, but he kept his hand irritatingly still, making you shutter almost panting, under the strain of forcing the muscles in your core to keep from grinding against his hand.
"I'll undo the belt for you, but only if you ask properly." The smug bastard.
Not a full second later you murmured out a needy "C'mon, please! Please just do it already!" To which Spy responded by pulling his hand further away, much to your frustration.
"You can do better than that. You're a smart woman. Use your words." He sounded almost bored, but you could feel him smirking down at you without needing to see his face. If there was one thing you could count on from men of the support classes, it was ceaseless sadism. You should've known he was going to draw this out.
"Please, please undo my belt, I'm too hot- F-feels like I'm dying down here!" It was hard to speak due to the vague numbness of the face and how your tongue felt too heavy in your mouth. You knew the words were garbled; you wouldn't be surprised if you were drooling and your voice hardly coherent over the sound of your own labored breathing, but worse of all, he still didn't seem convinced.
"Hm. Not bad. But you're rather amusing when you're begging for me. Too amusing for your own good. Perhaps I should keep you here a little longer."
You were ready to sob from the frustration of it all. "C'monn, it's not fair, I wanna touch you too! I wanna feel your body with mine- I wanna make you feel good too!"
Apparently, you said exactly what he wanted to hear as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your face, whispering, "You already are."
Shifting back to sit on his knees, Spy could now use both hands to take off your belt before pulling the zipper down. You sigh with relief at the cool air against the exposed and overheated skin.
For a moment, you were able to take a deep breath to enjoy this before saying, "Please, take the rest off- you're killing me down here!"
Spy wasn't done yet. Rising from the mattress, he walked to the side of the bed, cupping your cheek, making you nuzzle against the stiff leather glove; you'd never felt so starved for the contact of another. Using his free hand to draw his knife, kissing the side of your face with the flat of the blade. The cold steel against your cheek made you shiver, "You want your clothes off so bad; you don't mind if I use this little thing, do you?. You aren't afraid, are you?"
If he had any lingering reservations, you would break out of your ecstasy-fueled trance; they were entirely gone. Not even with his signature butterfly knife pressed directly against your face did you realize who you were dealing with.
The slight sting of the knife felt like heaven, and you sighed, knowing relief was so close you could taste it. "Cut them off, I don't need them anymore- just you. You're everything I need." Aside from the spike in libido, your emotions were significantly heightened, and you could feel your heart swell as the words left your mouth, and you felt in that moment, you truly loved the man beside you- whoever the hell he was anyway.
Spy too felt distracted for just a moment at the sincerity in your voice. He expected you'd gone entirely cum-brained by now and didn't expect you to say something surprisingly touching. Starting at the bottom of your pants, he pinched the fabric taught with one hand and used the other to start cutting with the knife with surgeon-like precision, then making likewise work to your shirt, leaving you almost entirely bare. Thankfully, he knew what he was doing because you refused to make this easy for him, constantly wriggling in place, distracting him by sighing as the clothes were practically peeled away.
Feeling a few layers of clothing peeled away felt like a massive weight off your chest. It wasn't long before you were left in nothing but undergarments, which were promptly cut away like the rest of your clothes.
You hardly realized the fabric was gone or that Spy was back between your legs until you felt an ungloved hand tracing up your inner thigh lightly, taking his sweet time before his hand eventually found your sex. Spy applied almost no pressure to his fingers, but the contact alone made you go giddy, unable to stop squirming as Spy's fingers began to move slowly and without much pressure.
Feeling the slick coating his fingertips as his eyes drifted shut, he grinned with satisfaction, feeling how fast you were coming undone. Allow his fingers to move on their own, and his thumb placed firmly against the skin over your clit. You tried to buck upwards and angle your hips to feel his thumb where you needed it, but he knew exactly what he was doing and didn't budge until you settled down. You knew without having to say anything or even look at him to understand the message he was trying to send you, be good, and he'll give you what you want, but not until he's ready. In other words, "Sit, stay, and beg."
Using his other hand, still gloved, he pushed your thighs open a bit wider, massaging the soft, sensitive flesh of your upper thigh. With his help keeping your thighs spread and pressed down against the mattress, you found it much easier to remain stable, keeping your motion limited to your back arching up from the bed, your knees buckling with such tension, you swore you could feel the nervous tremors making your legs shake and head pull back and forth in rhythm with your heavy, labored breathing. Spy was pleased to see how well you managed to hold steady, content enough to use two fingers to stroke up against your slit, just hard enough for his fingertips to slip in before slipping back out as he traced upwards. Gaging your reaction, he dropped his thumb to connect with your clit as he slipped a finger inside, watching you jolt a little in surprise.
Spy didn't need to move too long to find where he was looking for, his single finger curling up, feeling every inch of warm, slick softness he could while you struggled to stay still. Spy could feel your struggle, and with a tone of slight mockery, Spy hummed, "It's alright if you want to grind against me since you've been so good at being docile. I'll give you permission."
It was perfect timing, too; as he slid a second finger in, you felt yourself tense up, your own body overjoyed at the stimulation, before you began to roll your hips in rhythm with his hand as his fingers curled inside, trying to find that spot he found earlier. Before long, you were trying to choke back a moan- slightly nervous Spy would decide to punish you if you got too loud while he pumped his fingers inside. You tried your hardest to keep up with his pace, but as he moved faster and harder inside, you were too tense to move much on your own and let him play with your body as he wanted. All of the tension and heat building at your core felt like it was getting too much to handle, you could feel the oncoming climax, and you were ready for it.
Spy planned on making you wait longer for your first orgasm of the night, but now that he was here sitting in the moment, he felt almost as excited as you were to let it happen. And with one more roll of his thumb, timed perfectly with the fingers inside, it happened.
Despite the heavy restraints, you felt like you were flying. When you felt yourself coming against Spy's hand, your mind was lost in a drug and pleasure-induced euphoria that made you whimper and groan as you rode out the high as long as you could. You could hear Spy saying something but couldn't really understand. You weren't entirely back to your senses, but when he swiped his thumb against your forehead to wipe some of the sweat away before planting a loving kiss, you beamed, knowing whatever he was saying, it must've been good!
After such an intense experience, you clenched and unclenched your hands into fists, curling your toes, trying to gently work the feeling back into them. The past few hours were a blur, the past few days were painful, but now nothing mattered to you but this moment. As you stewed a bit longer in a soothing afterglow, comfortably recalling the events of the evening before, which brought you here.
You should've finished your work before heading out for the night. But when your intuition told you to avoid men, you found it best not to question it. Spy wasn't the type to offer anyone kindness without wanting something in return, and you had a bad feeling about exactly what he wanted. You hardly knew Spy but weren't surprised to learn he was the type to think a few charismatic advances entitled him to easy access to you whenever he pleased. And as soon as you got the chance, you packed up your work for the day and left base. The distance from base gave you the comfort to believe you'd escaped Spy for the evening, but for someone like Spy, who made a living of hiding and stalking, you could only do so much to remain undetected, and if he wanted to find you, there wasn't much you could do to protect yourself. It was hard to keep from watching the other patrons of the coffeehouse closely, and you couldn't help looking over your shoulder, expecting to see someone else watching you. But no one was there waiting, and hardly anyone noticed your staring. You were beginning to think you wouldn't feel safe again until you were back in your own bed.
It was mid-afternoon when you arrived at the small, decently secluded cafe lounge to get work done. Still, you were so distracted thinking about Spy, and the general noise and bustle of a public location kept you from much productivity. By now, the sun already set, the work day technically ended hours ago, and you had little to show for it, and your frustration only made it harder to focus.
Your eyes wandered from your screen to the empty mug beside you, and you considered if another drink would inspire some more progress or at least justify occupying your space in the cafe for so long. Before you could decide your next move, a hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality.
"Good evening!" You stiffened visibly upright in your seat at the sound of someone close behind speaking, gently squeezing your shoulder to get your attention. Your head whipped over your shoulder to see Medic, chipper as ever, standing less than a breath away behind you, still in his work attire, though thankfully clean of any bloodstains or crusted bits of entrails or bone that might've clung to him during combat.
"Hey, Medic, I didn't see you there!"
He grinned, "Did I frighten you?"
Relaxing at the sight of a friendly face, you mirrored his grin, "Not at all, old man."
Without waiting for an invitation, Medic turned to the largely blank Word doc on your screen and the pile of documents beside the laptop, "Still at work?"
You weren't supposed to let any of the mercenaries get a peek at confidential documents, but if you were honest, there was almost no information for him to steal. Shutting the laptop, you gathered the papers, organizing them back into their folder while he watched.
"I was on my way out, actually. Though a change of scenery would make me more productive, I think I better call it a night." You realized it seemed rude to pack up as soon as he showed up, but you were far from home, and if you wanted to catch the bus back to town, you needed to head out.
"Leaving so soon?" Medic questioned.
You picked up your dirty mug, keeping your eyes on it as you drummed your fingers against the ceramic, "Sorry, I wanted to make it home before dark. I really should head before it gets too late."
He nodded, "You came pretty far out of your way to get a little work done. Is something troubling you?"
Your first instinct was to play it off as nothing, to lie and give some lame excuse about always wanting to visit this longue, but why bother? Odds were, if you couldn't focus here, rushing home wouldn't do your productivity any favors. Checking the time, you confirmed it wasn't all that late and decided to go ahead and tell him the truth.
Sitting back in your seat, you set the mug back onto the table, staring out the window at the streetlights piercing the winter night fog. "It was another mercenary on your team. He was acting weird, and I didn't want to run into him again today, so I came here."
Not a full second later, Medic replied, "It was Scout, wasn't it."
You smiled, "Surprisingly, no."
He looked at you expectantly. Despite the nearly empty coffee house, you quickly scanned to see if anyone was listening in on this conversation, which obviously none were, before replying in a quieter voice, "It was Spy. I can't explain it, but he was being so nice to me. I don't trust that, not from him anyway."
Medic nodded, "You think he wanted something from you?"
"I think I know exactly what he wanted." You grumbled.
He put a hand on your knee, trying to express sympathy. "You're smart to get away so fast."
"I want to think so, but I just know he's going to be all bitter the next time I see him! And I can't even relax now because I know he could be anywhere!"
Medic settled back in his chair a little, folding his arms across his chest with an odd, amused look on his face. "You must really hate him, don't you? You can tell me, I won't say anything to him, I promise."
You sighed through your nose, unsure how to reply, "That's just it. I'm really not so sure if I do or not."
Medic looked at you skeptically, not anticipating that response, "Pardon?"
You laced your hands together in your lap, fidgeting slightly in your seat as you kept your gaze focused out the window beside you, "Well, to be fair, it's never fun to care about someone more than they care about you. Yeah, Spy can be a real creep, but it's not easy to feel unloved like that, who wouldn't feel sorry for someone in that situation. Or, like, you need to love someone enough for the both of you, I guess? I'm sorry, I'm not sure this is making much sense, is it?"
An odd look crossed Medic's face, almost one of disbelief. "Do you really feel sorry for him?"
Shrugging but maintaining eye contact, you nodded, continuing, "I mean, it's a lot of pressure to try and love someone enough to make the other person reciprocate the affection. I understand how it makes someone feel so trapped. I know it's hard, but I believe it's for the best to keep my distance. For both our sakes." As you rambled, you shifted a little in your seat. "I mean, even if it is just sex or whatever, no one likes feeling turned down or unwanted like that, you know? Maybe I don't like him personally, but I really can't help but feel for him here, you know what I mean?"
Clearing your throat and sitting up straighter in your chair, you felt a bit awkward after your little tangent, "Anyhow, all that to say, I feel bad about skipping out on him like that. I guess I'll owe him one next time I see him."
Medic's easygoing smile returned, nodding to you in understanding, "True, but you'd better be careful next time you meet him. Wait and see where all that sympathy gets you next time, whether you meet his love or hate."
"I didn't think about that. God, this sucks." You had no idea if you felt any better after getting this off your chest, but you were just about certain any chance of finishing your work tonight was out of the question. No way you could focus on all that now.
Just as you were about to get ready to depart for the evening, make some lame excuse about needing to get home urgently or something when you heard Medic's voice again, "You look tense. How about something to drink?"
You couldn't help but chuckle a little, "Is that advisable? Mixing stress and alcohol?"
Medic shrugged, not appearing to see any issue, "All in moderation."
A drink did sound like just the thing, but you had a bad feeling if you didn't leave now, you'd regret it by morning. "I'm not so sure. I have to catch the bus soon."
He brushed off your words as soon as they left your mouth, "Let me drive. I insist."
Hell, if he was so intent on something to take the edge off, you weren't about to stop him, "If you really want to…"
Needing no further incentive, he was off while you busied yourself to ensure your confidential documents were tucked away and back in your work bag. Medic returned shortly after with some kind of cocktail in a highball glass, slightly rose-colored in one hand, and a cup of black tea in the other. He handed you the one that looked like a cocktail. You accepted, raising your glass a little thanks, "To good company."
Medic tapped his cup against your glass before taking a small sip of his drink, watching you do the same. The drink was much sweeter than you were expecting; it wasn't precisely a luxury-tier location, but the flavor of your cocktail tasted particularly artificial and syrupy. Still, a free drink was a free drink, and you made sure to give thanks before trying another sip. It tasted much better on the second try, now that the sweetness didn't take you so off guard.
You closed your eyes a little, trying to decipher the taste. "What kind of flavor is in this?"
He stared at you over the rim of his teacup, "Try and guess."
Forcing another sip down your throat, you answered, "Mango?"
Medic shook his head, his eyes never once leaving you as you enjoyed the cocktail, "Not quite. Try a little more."
The more you drank, the faster it went down. It was intense; you could already tell that much, but it didn't taste like strong liquor. It was like some kind of miracle potion! "Is it grenadine?"
Medic wasn't even drinking anymore. His teacup was abandoned on the saucer while his full attention was on you. "Not that either. Take a big sip and see if that helps."
You tried to take as big of a sip as you could manage but ran out of drink before you could do so. Still, you were curious to know what was in the drink and how the flavor seemed to change and warp the longer it stayed on your tongue. "Guava?"
Medic clapped a hand on your back, pulling you into a tight hug, making your head spin slightly from the sudden movement, "You got it! How do you feel now?"
"Drink was amazing! And I, uh, I do feel a little better, thanks!"
Keeping one arm wrapped around you, he took the glass from you with his other hand, "Almost done!" He poured the last concoction you didn't even realize was left into your mouth while you swallowed obediently, feeling warm and giddy with Medic's arm wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you upright."
"There you are, good job!" His praise sounded eerily like what a doctor would give a 5-year-old after enduring their first shot, and weirdly, it didn't embarrass you. You were too warm and full of levity from the alcohol to care about feeling patronized.
Helping you back down to your seat, "Wait right here, I'll return the glass for you."
While he was gone, you stared blankly ahead at your screen, watching the line blink on a predominantly white Word document until Medic returned, leaning down with one hand on the back of your chair to shut the laptop. "Didn't I shut that already?" You thought before he spoke, "Ready to go?"
You knew you weren't done, but for some reason, you couldn't exactly remember what you started in the first place and didn't complain as Medic helped gather your notes and put away your device. While it was impossible to stay focused, you were still largely coherent, feeling somewhat affected by the alcohol, though not in a way familiar to you. Heavy eyelids made the world around you dark and blurry. The spinning in your head made you bob forward in your seat, unable to find your posture. The taste of sweet artificial fruit clung like a thick syrup to your tongue and in the corners of your mouth no matter how many times you swallowed.
A fuzzy, warm feeling deep in the pit of your gut made you shift in your seat as you found it more and more difficult to mask this sudden drowsiness. Fortunately, Medic was more than happy to help you pack up the work bag you thought you already tucked away and hold the door open for you, leading you by hand to his car through the dark, hopefully not unsafe roads.
Medic led the way effortlessly. For a split second, you were too timid to lean on him for support; you were a grown woman and had no right acting so sloppily after a single drink. But whether or not you wanted his help, by God, did you need it. And he could sense it, too. Leading you with one arm wrapped around your waist to help keep you upright while leading you to his car before helping you inside.
You sat back, your eyes drifting shut, feeling Medic leaning over you to help fasten the seat belt, and with his shoulder so close, your head tipped forward to rest against it. If Medic wanted you to stop acting so clingy, he wasn't about to say so, allowing you to keep your head resting against his shoulder as he patted the top of your head. "There you are, nice and safe."
Just as he was about to pull away, you leaned a little harder against him, shaking your head, trying to keep him close despite your absence of communication skills. "Not home… Scared to go back-"
Thankfully, he was close enough to understand the mumble that was your voice. Using one hand to ruffle your head playfully, "You don't have to be alone; come home with me."
He didn't need to assure you, nor was he scared he might have to; by now, your mind was entirely overtaken by fuzzy neediness. Any concerns about trusting another person to get you home while you were already so out of it were gone. All you knew was you wanted Medic to stay, to keep you feeling safe and comfortable. As long as he was there with you, none of the potential dangers of the world outside mattered.
Childishly, you clung to his coat with clumsy, weak fingers, keeping him close as you buried your face in his chest, "Need you- Need to be safe." It was too hard to bother with complete sentences. Not only was your mind spinning, but your tongue felt too big for your mouth, and though you could hear and understand Medic well enough, communication on your end felt impossible.
For a while, he didn't pull away; instead, he used both arms to support you in a secure hug as you remained nestled into his chest. "I've got you."
Eventually, you managed to pull away enough to look up at him, blinking, unable to entirely focus or see him clearly with dilated eyes. "Let's go home."
But before he could pull away further, you planted a gentle, open-mouthed kiss against his lips. Instantly, you felt him returning the kiss, and he cupped your cheek with one hand to help keep your head table and deepen the kiss, giving you butterflies. His tongue slid against yours so smoothly it helped soothe your agitation and confusion over how you managed to become so sloppy over a single drink. Medic's mouth against your own made you feel like nothing but he mattered, a feeling which never once went away the drive over; even as your eyes drifted shut, that comfortable smile never went away as you replayed the kiss over and over in your head.
Never before had a ride home at night felt so intense and relaxing. Fluorescent lights passed in dull flashes, and the windshield wipers clicked to clear the rain with a soothing rhythm. No doubt if you tried to take the bus home, you'd catch more than a little unwarned attention with your loopy behavior. But none of that mattered because you weren't in a crowded bus, and you weren't going home alone; you were with Medic. Even if you couldn't see him in the dark car, the presence of another nearby soothed your worries, and made your heart throb.
Thinking about the car ride over was enough to remind you- and bring you back to the present moment, especially when the blindfold was pulled from your eyes. It didn't make much difference; the lighting was so low, and you doubted you could see your hand in front of your face. You had no idea if he could see your face either, but you smiled up at him regardless, the least you could do to thank him for all he'd done for you tonight.
But you didn't need to see an entire face when you felt your lips against yours, and you didn't need to see who the lips belonged to kiss back. One kiss on the lips became one on the neck, and you could feel hands all over your body, getting greedier, wanting to feel all of you against him. You didn't even realize he was already naked until you felt his head probing against your clit.
The sensation of hot skin grazing between your legs, preparing to align with your core, made you flinch, unable to suppress your own whining. Feeling so needy and overwhelmed was agony. Fortunately, Spy was completely sober and ready to give you precisely what you needed. As if you even deserved it after leaving him high and dry earlier- but for you alone, Spy was willing to show some mercy.
His own raging hard-on, throbbing as his head connected with your sex made Spy sigh, watching you with half-lid eyes as he prepared himself to thrust forward. You were feeling far less coordinated, haphazardly trying to roll your hips against him, all while he remained still as a statue above, waiting for you to tire yourself out enough to let him take control.
It's incredible how Spy didn't need to see your face or speak with you to communicate; he knew exactly what you needed. When you finally settled down enough to let him move again, Spy lowered his head to the crook of your neck, nipping at the thin skin as he fully entered your body.
The ropes creaked lightly as your body strained to accommodate his anatomy while inundated by so many other sensations.
You were just coherent enough to say, "Feels… Feels so fucking good."
After those words left your mouth, you were uncommunicative for the rest of the night. Present, aware, and even responsive to Spy, but unable to speak. One round of sex stretched into two, or maybe more? One of your last memories of the night was the feeling of something running down your thigh and a needy kiss against your neck, which morphed into a harsh bite- but even that wasn't enough to fully awaken you. It wasn't long until your body couldn't take anymore and passed out, still fully restrained in the bed of another.
By the time Spy fully unwound the restraints from around your wrists and ankles, you were too sleepy to realize Spy was directly in front of you. Spy could feel himself swelling with pride, staring down at your helpless body curled up comfortably in his own bed, naked and spent. The effects of the MDMA and alcohol were beginning to subside; you were past your climax, and now it was time to rest.
It was dangerous to mix drugs and alcohol. Initially, Spy told himself he was alright with doing this because, if you accidentally had a bad trip or unforeseen adverse reaction, you brought it on yourself for rejecting him. Watching you suffer was an outcome he prepared for, but seeing you unravel and completely give in to pleasure was far more rewarding.
Spy watched your breathing become heavy and slow, curling into the fetal position on your side, to drift off into a deep rest. He was pretty drained from all the excitement as well, but forced himself from the bed, switching on a lamplight as he made his way down the hall to fix himself some black tea.
Perhaps he'd regret staying awake all night in the morning, but for now he was more than happy to ride out the sweet triumph of conquest a little longer. The situation wasn't new to him. Spy was blessed with great fortune with the opposite sex, and even those who initially tried to brush him off, it was only a matter of time before he got what he wanted. Usually, not even the satisfaction of victory lasted long after the lay, but as Spy sipped his tea, watching you naked and deep asleep, he knew it'd be a shame to move on so soon. Whether it was affection or sadism that made him want to keep you to himself, Spy wasn't sure, but he knew it had been ages since he'd felt such a fondness.
It was so cute how you thought you could run away fast enough for him not to suspect you would try to brush him off earlier. Trying so hard to plan a way out from behind his back, entirely ignorant of the way his eyes followed you, reading you from a distance. You had no idea who you were dealing with, and the idea of keeping you here, showing you the extent of his depravity and an entirely new meaning of the word held Spy with wrapt interest. And he realized what a shame it would be to end all the fun tonight because you weren't awake to feel it yourself.
genuinely insane the way the fic became a lived experience a few nights ago. i've dropped lived experiences into fics before, but it's kinda surreal to see it go the other way like !!!! life sure comes at you fast sometimes!
oktoberfest was a lot of fun, is what im trying to say
finally getting around to getting caught up on stranger things (id seen the first season like, 4 times- but for some reason never watched beyond that)
and if i may be so bold, no scene in this entire series- of any netflix series, felt as sexually powerful than when bloody and beaten down hooper emotionally sucking peanut butter off his fingers while surrounded by catholic imagery.
Select a powerful entity to pledge yourself to who'll cherish you and transform you into something inhuman
Lord of the winter fae whose blood flows with the snow of winter
Angel warlord from a heaven whose creator has long since abandoned
An insectoid scavenger that feeds on dead gods below the sea
An androgynous vampire girl trying to restore the kingdom her brother usurped
A djinn possessing a supercomputer posing as a sentient AI
The lord of all rats who wears a paper crown and weilds a cardboard sword
Lich who controls the largest library in the world
Demon with countless eyes who owns more souls than any other being on earth
Mushroom lord whose power lays deep below the earth
Eyeless witch whose power reaches deep below the sea and into the night sky
Living clothing made of liquid metal that whisper strange secrets into your ears
The abyss at the edge of time and space.
Voting ended onOct 12, 2024
Look under the cut to see what meeting your entity is like. Reblog to give a gift to your patron.
The fae: a creature stands before you. Though this street was warm and crowded a few moments ago it is suddenly cold and the people around you look like shadows. The creature begins an antlered shadow with glowing white eyes, but soon its body can be seem, with white blue flesh, and sapphire eyes, and icicles for teeth. What looks like a cloak unfolds from its naked body and you can see massive white wings of a moth. As if it's an act of sacrifice you tell it your true name, a name you didn't even see before, and suddenly you belong to it, for better or worse.
The angel: a radiant entity appears before you. They're bright, like something so hot it would burn you up. But as the light fades, you can see a person in silver armor, perfect yet inhuman like am ancient green statue, their back srouting six wings with blue eyes along them, as the eyes on their head are covered by a mask of two smaller wings. The creature offers their hands and you shake it, as they fly you through the city streets and above the skyscrapers, to the stars above and dimensions beyond, to gods living and dead, across the streets of alien cities and the clouds of dead worlds. And when you return to the earth you can feel something diffrent about you, like there's light in your blood.
The scavenger: below the lights of skyscrapers beyond you, on the dark sands of the beach, you see it crawling twords you. This serpentine creature with countless legs, and a dark black shell, yet a strangely human like face. You think it'll attack or run away, but it just looks at you, egar, and for a momment you stare at eachother. It's legs pass something to eachother and then to you, it's meat but it's shining with all the colors known to the human eye, and a few more. You hold it and it happily looks at you. You take a bite and suddenly you know... you know so very much...
The vampire: she flies down to you on green wings with orange eyespots, but folds them into her back. She looks like a human for a momment, tall and strong, with a black suit over her body, but eyes the color of ruby. For a momment her mouth opens, and it's massive and monstrous, with countless moving parts and fangs. But then it folds back onto something humanoid and she gives you a playful smirk. She cuts her hand and offers you her blood, and when you drink it it tastes so sweet, and makes you feel so good. She hands you the knife and you know to do the same, and when she drinks from your palm it's life the sweetest of kisses.
The djinn: the room wirs around you. If it were not for the fans it would feel like hellfire. For a momment there it darkness, but then the screen before you glows white like smokeless flame. You can sense something inside, something beyond the code. You reach your hand within it, and there's no glass, your hand passess right through until you're in a white void of your own making. You call out, thinking there is nothing at all around you. Yet somehow something calls back, something that knows your name.
The rat king: You see him in an empty subway station. Something dark and distorted, you're not sure if he's man or animal, covered in rags, and singing in the language of the goblins and the orcs. Yet he comes close to you excited. And you can feel his song. He calls for you to come to the train tracks, and let yourself run with the rats and the roaches, where the train will pass over you when it comes, and you'll live forever. When you touch the third rail you don't die, but you'll never be human again.
The lich: the library is strangely bright. Run by skeletons in suits, decorated with gold. There are more books here then you thought were in all the world. There's knowledge here most mortals will never have the change below, all kept safe below the city. You see her, her body doesn't look human, everything has been replaced making her look more like a joining white doll then a being of flesh. Yet she is dead, you can tell that under the porcelain skin she must be dead, she is dead, and there is the tragedy of death in her eyes. You come closer to her, and she places a black rose within your hair...
The demon: You stand in his office and he stands before you, a humanoid being covered in black scales, with red eyes covering his skin. Yet none are on his head, that remains featureless save for two massive horns. Wings on his back nearly surround you. Countless souls line the walls of his office, looking at you, waiting. After you sign your name you give him yours, you can feel it come away for you forever and your eyes grey and your skin pales. But he puts the jar in a special place for you, you're spacial, he can tell there's something about you that he likes.
The mushroom lord: you walk through the darkness of the forest, the furthest from civilization you have ever been. You come upon a part where the trees all seem dead, that even the cryptids won't go near. Mushrooms fill the ground, and white vein like lines are all over the trees. You feel the need to lay down, and you let the moss and the mushrooms and the worms surround you, and let yourself sink into the soil,, and it feels good. It feels so good...
The witch: You can see them in the Cafe next to you, skinny and small, with a sweatshirt over most of their body, and dark glasses over their eyes. They seem powerful though, and though their body looks young they seem ancient, they seem beyond humanity. You talk to them and they tell you things, and secrets, lost gods, things you never knew you didn't know, both beautiful and disturbing. When it's time for them to go they pet your head, and give you their number. You don't know if you should text them, but you have to, you have to see them again, there's something about them that makes you need to know.
The living clothing: you step into it at first, it looked like a puddle yet shining like silver or chrome. But soon it surrounds you, first just your torso, but soon your head, your entire body. But it doesn't feel scary, it feels like you're being held, held by something beyond your understanding. It whispers to you, and you don't know if you should feel like your being eaten alive, or like you're being protected. You can't help but keep walking.
The abyss: the void is before you, blackness beyond blackness, like the color beyond the field of your vision, stands before your eyes. You stare at it, it's nothing yet you're entranced. It stares back...
