spit your love on me (nsfw)
the urban fantasy/only fans au in order to celebrate writing the first draft of #ProjectRyessida
Author’s Note: This is edited only by me, so if there are any mistakes —my bad. Mostly made this for fun & I hope you enjoy.
Content Warnings: Drug use (marijuana consumption), mutual masturbation
“I'm smoking hash,” Her smoky voice says through the headset he bought specifically for this, thank you very much, and he can't help but roll his eyes as he finishes stuffing the last of his clean laundry into its properly assigned cabinet. “If you weren't halfway across the country I would pass it to you— you obviously need it.”
“I don't think anyone says hash anymore, Cress.”
“I'm bringing it back,” She answers offhandedly, and even though he can't look at his own screen right now, too busy taking care of the enormous pile of laundry that had accumulated in his room during finals. But he can clearly picture her smiling coyly, playing with a red curl around her pretty manicured nail. “I like the way it sounds.”
“Why do I obviously need it, anyway?”
“Your shoulders are still tense,” She says between taking a drag and blowing the smoke out, all of it softly recorded in her high-quality microphone. “Stop playing with your clothes and come talk to me.”
“I am talking to you,” He replies, knowing it'll spite her. “You're just annoyed I'm not looking at you.”
“You're my favorite, Rye. I actually look forward to our meetings.”
Ryesand huffs out a laugh, trying his best to ignore the way his heart pounds against his ribs. Don't read too much into it, He reminds himself. You just support her, she's probably just grateful. “Let me finish this first.”
“Fiiiiiine,” She replies, groaning, stretching the one little vowel however much she can. “But it's Saturday night, and I'm spending it with you so the least you could do is look at my outfit.” His ears twitch and by the hitched little laugh she lets loose between her lips he knows that she saw them do so. “I did wear it for you.”
Running a hand down his face he stomps down the blush that threatens to take over his body. “Cress—”
“Shut it— oh, hey did you get the package from my buddy?” Putting the last of the clothes on his hangar, he takes a step forward and swipes the small box from his desk. “Wait— don't turn around yet. Open it first.”
There's a slight moment of hesitation before he flips the cap of the cigarette case open and his eyes widen in surprise as he sees a line of expertly rolled blunts neatly placed one against the other. “You got me hash for my birthday?”
“Ha! So people do still say hash, see?!”
A smirk comes over his face as he turns around and finds himself with his breath caught in his throat for a fraction of a second. She's sitting in the same place she always does, but she's wearing dark purple lingerie that pushes the force of her breasts to his view, and jesusfuckingchrist-- happy birthday to him.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” He tries to sound nonchalant as he sits down in his own chair and rolls toward his PC. Her eyes are hooded and glossy and she's wearing that rose-colored lipstick he thinks about way too often. “No, wait, don't answer that.”
“Just relax, baby,” She answers, voice sultry and dreamy. “Smoke some hash with me on your birthday.”
With a quick flick of his wrist, the lights through the room dim into a nice, dark hue. Motioning towards the cabinet beside his books, he summons the lighter he kept in there and grasped the cool metal in his hand.
“I love when you do magic,” She comments offhandedly, holding her own blunt between her fingers. “It's sexy.”
“Stop flirting with me,” He says, blunt between his teeth as he switches the lighter on, taking a puff and keeping it inside before it steams from his nostrils. “You're high as shit, Cress.”
It's hard to look at her like this, when the slow burn goes down his throat and it feels nicer than he'd like to admit. When those big brown eyes had a sheen to them that made them sparkle in the right light, when her breaths are slow and calculated, making her chest rise and fall in such a precise manner that it drove him nearly mad.
He still remembers the day he stumbled across her profile, mindlessly scrolling Twitter until a friend of a friend liked a post she had published promoting her latest photoshoot—one where she exclusively wore a simple white gown with a high slit that made her golden skin contrast and her red hair glow.
But it had been her eyes that had hypnotized him.
Big, round, and a color so rich, chocolate and liquid honey rivaled one another to become the dominant hue.
“Who cares? The important thing is we're having fun,” She answers, with that same damn twinkle he had seen before. “We could have more fun if you let me.”
“Cressida, it's okay—”
“Rye — I don't think you understand, you're one of the most interesting people I've ever met. I would absolutely love to know how you would fuck me.”
His hand grips the lighter and he has to resist the urge to bite his lower lip. Gods, He berates himself. I never should have told her that.
Cressida can always tell when he’s tense.
For being someone so careful and concise with his words, Ryesand was very easy to read.
She knows as much about him as one can know someone who decided to spontaneously support her OnlyFans profession at an extremely high tier and never demanded anything from her.
Even when she had offered, especially after she actually saw him.
He was a demon, gray-skinned and golden-eyed. He had a presence to him that had been unlike anyone else she had ever met— and he was so smart; a graduate student at a highly prestigious university dedicated to the study of magic and mysticism.
“So, you're new,” She had said the first time she offered him a video call. Honestly, she didn't think he would take it; he had been so quiet for so long that when he finally answered and clicked on the Yes option, she vowed to never let her impulsiveness bite her in the ass again. “I'm Cressida.”
“I'm Rye,” He had answered, pushing his reading glass up his slightly crooked nose and if he was nervous, she was too distracted to tell. “I—uh — usually don't do this so I don't really know what to say.”
She later would familiarize herself with his blunt and often direct answers, never one to mince words, but at the moment it struck her as intriguing. “I was just curious,” She declares, leaning over and leaning her chin on her hand. “I've seen the bi-weekly donations, just wanted to personally thank you for the tip,” And because she can't resist. “But I've noticed you never request any of the things you technically paid for. You do know how an OnlyFans works, right?”
That's the day she discovered that when demons blushed their skin tinted purple. Sometimes she sees his tail wiggle involuntarily.
Gods, she wanted to eat him up, immediately.
“I just wanted to support you,” He cleared his throat, running a hand through his shoulder-length black hair. “That's all.”
“Well, I gotta give you something,” She lied, unsure if that was actually true or not. “It's in the rules.”
She didn't know shit— she's never read the terms and agreement. (Who does, anyway?!)
“Well, I don't really want anything,” He replied, leaning forward and she noticed him looking thoroughly look at her. “So, it's fine, really.”
“We can just talk,” She said, surprising even herself. “You look like an interesting guy. How did you find my account?”
And after that monthly chat sessions became weekly. They had built up a rapport with one another. She learned he was a Mystical graduate student and that he had been extremely stressed out and drunk when he subscribed to her. That he didn't mind the money being sent out if it meant helping her out, and just seemed genuinely interested in her. He never approached personal topics and generally kept his questions friendly and respectful.
Gods and he could keep up with her in banter— she always found that sexy in anyone. Talking to him was never boring.
“So,” He says, releasing the lighter from that tight grip. “You do remember that.”
“Of course I do,” She purrs, leaning towards the camera. “You were the drunk one. I thought it was really sexy.”
“I didn't want—”
“Ryesand,” She says his full name because even though he had told her once to call him Rye she wanted his full attention. “I think about you a lot.”
Perhaps it's the high, softly setting into his body in that nice, bone-melting way, releasing the tension in his muscles and relaxing his posture.
Maybe it's because he's been infuriatingly attracted to her since he started to get to know her, and that it's been quite hard to keep his feelings strictly friendly. He learned she had a vicious sweet tooth and that she was trying her best to pay for her journalism degree, hence the account. It had all been fun and games until they actually established a pace between them, friendly banter that bordered on flirting from time to time.
One night after some drinks with Vel and their colleagues, Ryesand remembered he had a scheduled chat with her and nearly tumbled through campus to get back to his apartment. When he logged in and her camera popped into view, she was wearing the same white dress she had been wearing the day he subscribed to her.
“God you're so fucking sexy,” He had groaned, heat running down his back. “I want to fuck you so bad, it makes me look stupid.”
He vividly remembered her laughing, and in the next morning, her laughter still rang in his ears along with the feeling of being completely fucking embarrassed beyond belief.
“And I really want to know,” Her voice purrs and he watches her bite her lip. “Because I really wanna fuck you.”
He doesn't know how to stop her, he doesn't know if he wants to. She's glowing right now, her golden skin shining and her red hair so looking so fucking soft and pretty —he's willing to bet she smells like roses.
“You never told me how so, I'm curious.” A Cheshire-cat smile graces her features before a brassiere strap falls from her shoulder. “Because I have some ideas, but I want to hear you first.”
There's a slight pause between them— and it's not an uncomfortable silence. She's giving him an out, a moment to think about it, to decide whether he wants to do this or not.
But he also does see the challenge in her eyes and Gods damn him he can't fucking resist pushing back. “I think about grabbing you by the waist,” He answers. “And ruining your lipstick when I kiss you.”
“I think about riding you,” She chuckles as her eyes hood. “Just grabbing you by your horns and sinking myself on your cock.”
Fuck, He almost chokes on another inhale of the blunt, already halfway gone through his teeth as he watches one of her hands disappear under the desk. “You'd be so fucking soft,” He says nearly out of breath.
“Touch yourself, Ryesand,” She calls him to him and his blood sings in response. Gods, her voice was so raspy and sexy, he knew he would be ruined if he ever heard her say his full name. “Because I'm about to start doing it and I don't want to be alone.”
She takes one last drag of her blunt before setting it down and unhooking the front of her lingerie and releasing her breasts and Gods, he wants to bury his face in them.
He wants to suck on a sweet little brown nipple and then bite the skin near it. He desperately wants to hear his name hitched in her voice, he wants to run his tongue down her neck, he wants to do things to her that he’s too embarrassed to say out loud but he’s willing to try. “I would taste your skin and leave you marked.” He manages. “I wanna grab you by your hair and fuck you onto the mattress.”
“Fuck,” She breathes deeply, cheeks brightening as she arches her back in the seat causing her to roll away just a bit, just enough for him to see her hand deep inside her violet panties, fingers lightly flicking the top. “I bet you’d fucking slap me too.” She says, grinning as she looks at him with her head thrown back.
“If you wanted me to,” He answers, reaching for his belt. “Gods, I’d do anything you’d want me to.”
He has to chalk it up to the drug in his system giving him the confidence to actually fucking do this because he can't stop looking at her. The way her breath hitches in her throat and her golden cheeks heat red— her pink lips parting as her fingers dig deeper into her and a broken little moan escapes and go straight through him like a stroke of lighting.
At first, she thinks the sounds of him undoing his belt and hearing the zipper go down were the sexiest thing she'd ever heard but then he actually fists his cock in his big, strong hand she had to bite her lower lip to resist wantonly moaning when she hears him groan in her ears.
“Cressida,” He grunts out between gritted teeth as he finally relaxes in his seat, throwing his head back slightly, never keeping his ridiculous golden eyes off her.
She doesn't think she's ever felt this hungry before.
The air feels cool against her breasts and she roughly grabs one desperately wishing it was Ryesand's calloused hand gripping her nipple and rolling it between his fingers. "Ryesand," She replies smiling coyly in a singsong voice as she throws a foot over the desk, positioning in an angle where she knows he can see everything.
The little growl that he lets out when he does almost sends her over the edge. “You're so annoying,” He says and she can see the slight tension in his neck, the way his buttoned-down shirt displays the dark hair littering his chest. She grinds onto her hand, imagining she's holding him by the shoulders and ranking her nails downdowndown.
“You love it,” She replies, laughter spiked in arousal and amusement letting her fingertips find, and stroke over her labia, resisting the urge to sink in deep. She circles the now-hard nub of her clit, letting herself enjoy the show she was giving. “Keeps me under your skin.”
His hips buck under him and she hears his struggle to keep a grip on himself. Ryesand had always been so quiet and restrained that watching himself loosen up and actually give into whatever this was was just as intoxicating as the rest of him.
His hand grips the base of his cock before running it up and down in a tight grip, head swollen and disappearing, in and out, of his fist. “Wish you were actually here.” He says between heavy pants, words half-formed through his mouth as he runs his free hand through the tendrils of black hair that had obscured his vision and leaves it on the back of his head, showcasing his broad shoulders and wide chest and its almost enough to make her cry out of frustration.
“If I was there I would suck you off until you couldn't think straight,” She answers with a low moan as she sinks two fingers deep into her aching pussy, the obscene wet sound making it to the microphone frequencies by the way Ryesand's eyes nearly roll to the back of his skull. “We wouldn’t leave your room for a while.”
"Fuck." His thrusts are brutal and his breathing is ragged, Ryesand's purple blush spreads across his face and paints a slight tint down his neck and upper torso and she desperately wants to lick the small beads of sweat she can pick up from the screen. It makes her quicken her pace, and deepen her fingers in. “I want to see you come, Cressida.”
It's all about wanting, isn't it? Wanting, yearning, pinning— it's all tangled and broken and mangled and restructured right in the middle of her too-tight chest, letting itself be released through physicality and sensuality. She's not good with words (neither is he), but there's something incredibly intimate about what they're doing, about the fact that she's never really held a mutual masturbation scene with anyone else and hadn’t had the desire to do so until him.
She'll give that more thought later— right now her one goal is to give him exactly what he wants. She angles her hips precisely the way she likes it, his groan reverberating in her ears as her hand rapidly accelerates and she grinds furiously against her fingers feeling like it's not enough and too much at the same time.
“Ah,” Her body feels like it's on fire, and her breath hitches within her chest. “Fuck, Ryesand.”
A heat coils inside of her, it starts in the back of her spine and builds continuously as Ryesand's breathing grows more ragged by the second.
She fantasizes about him a lot whenever she touches herself — riding him, him relentlessly pounding into her, so furiously and savagely that she would have to grip bedsheets.
It's not that different having him in front of her now, feverishly rutting against his fist the way she imagines he must when he's having sex and she desperately wishes she was on the receiving end of it.
“Come for me, baby,” He says and that's it that's the ticket— it completely fucking unravels and destroys her when it manages to collide with the final thrust and grind against her hand and stars explode behind her eyelids, throwing her head back and moaning in ecstasy, body shaking and feeling the floating sensations through her veins drive her to her breaking point. Her chest heaves up and down and she feels the bead of sweat drop between her breasts.
Ryesand growls something, she doesn't catch what it was, before he groans harshly and comes in his fist, hips bucking wildly and out of rhythm as he rides his high.
God, he's breathtaking.
When the world realigns and his lungs manage to breathe in fresh air at a normal pace once again, Ryesand lowers his head and is amused by the fact that she also seemed in no hurry to rearrange herself, lazily draped over her desk chair like a model, carefully crossing her legs over the desk, giving him an impressive view of her thighs. “You live alone, right?” She sighs contently.
“Yeah,” He answers, unable to care whether or not to fix himself either. “Why?”
“I'm flying to your side of the country in a couple of days for a research assignment,” She says, a smile on her features as she stretches her arms over her head, causing her breasts to bounce slightly. “I'd love some company.”
Chuckling, he sits up and tucks himself back into his jeans. “Oh, It'd be my pleasure.” The smile that immediately beams on her face warms his chest. “I even know a great donut shop to take you to.”
“Before or after fucking my brains out?”
The laugh that huffs out of him is genuine and he finds himself fighting off the desperate need to kiss her. If he’s lucky he might be able to do that soon. "Let's see what happens."
Leaning over, she rests her elbows on the desk and her eyes are still glossy, her smile is soft and she’s so goddamns beautiful. “Looking forward to it.”
Author’s Note: If you want to scream at me, feel free to drop by my discord!