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jackjolene · 1 year

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Vampyr Headcanons

I figured that today of all days would be a good one to share my Vampyr headcanons. Be warned; I’m tying this to over to another favorite game of mine.

Having only Embraced those whose life was about to end (Dr. Edgar Swansea) or whose continued existence would harm others (Clay Cox, Edwina Cox, Father Tobias Whitaker, Seymour Fishburn, Venus Crossley, and Carolyn Price), Jonathan is able to convince Elizabeth to not take her own life. He immediately begins research on finding a way to completely purify her of the Blood of Hate.

Old Bridget takes care of their needs, bringing them supplies at scheduled intervals. At times, she will act as Elizabeth’s companion while Jonathan goes to visit his aging mother. After her death and funeral, which he is present at, he stays at the castle full-time, looking for the cure. His family’s butler, Avery Cork, comes with to serve and aid the last living Reid.

After over twenty years of hard work, he finds it at long last. After administering the cure, Jonathan, Elizabeth, and Avery wait with bated breath as he tests her blood for the Blood of Hate. To their eternal joy, the test comes back negative.

They return to London to find it much changed: The city has recovered from the Great War, from the Spanish Flu, and from the Skal Epidemic, and is flourishing. They make contact with their old friends and acquaintances from during the Epidemic.

For example, Charlotte Ashbury is overjoyed to reunite with her mother. Things have gone well for her cause; the fight for women’s rights and the equality between men and women has made great strides throughout the 1920s and ‘30s in the United Kingdom.

At the Pembroke Hospital, Dr. Waverly Ackroyd has become its administrator. He isn’t too happy to see Dr. Reid after he disappeared into the blue. He has done well, both for himself and as the administrator of Pembroke, though, and Reid is happy for him on that account.

Others have turned darker. Albert Palmer has risen through the ranks of the Wet Boot Boys, becoming their leader, and he is arguably worse than Clay or Edwina ever were.

Sadly, others have died in their absence. Darius Petrescu and Enid Gillingham have both died of old age. Both Rodney Grader and Archer Woodbead were brutally murdered, and Albert Palmer is the prime suspect.

Much to Jonathan’s annoyance and displeasure, he learns that a second Great War has begun. Only a couple of months earlier, the “Allied” troops were driven out of Europe and forced to evacuate in the “Miracle at Dunkirk”.

Jonathan and Elizabeth’s return couldn’t have been worse timed, as a few days after their arrival, the German Luftwaffe begins bombing London in what would become known as the “Blitz”. Jonathan Reid returns to the medical field as he begins working at Pembroke again with the influx of bombing victims.

A few months later, Geoffrey McCullum walks into Pembroke. During Dr. Reid’s absence, McCullum has softened his stance upon vampires, seeing as he has become one. When his status as a “Leech” was discovered, it created a new schism within the Guard of Priwen. Those loyal to McCullum joined him in creating a new faction, which rejoined with the Brotherhood of St. Paul’s Stole. Those who wished to kill him and continue indiscriminately killing vampires continued on as the Guard of Priwen.

McCullum is here to recruit Dr. Reid into the Brotherhood. As it turns out, the Nazis have their own counterpart to the Brotherhood, the “Thule Society”. Their goal is to uncover and weaponize various occult artifacts against the Allies, and their most effective tools are Ekons. A good number of Nazi officers, especially within the SS, are Ekons themselves.

There is a good chance that the Thule Society will try to cause another Disaster, such as the one that Dr. Reid stopped. As a powerful Ekon who has experience fighting other Ekons and stopping Disasters, Jonathan is a prime candidate to be inducted into the Brotherhood, which is currently working with the Allies.

Elizabeth is against it, but she ultimately concedes. She and Jonathan part ways as he goes to once again fight for King and Country.

Between fighting German soldiers and vampires, and Embracing targets, Dr. Reid begins realizing the potential he denied him during the Epidemic. He soon finds himself catching up with McCullum, and then surpassing him, which is only right as his Vampiric parent.

Without a doubt, Jonathan hates the Nazi doctors in the concentration camps more than even the members of the Thule Society. They are a mockery of everything he has ever valued; they don’t deserved to be called “Doctor”. They are nothing more than sadistic butchers with scalpels instead of cleavers, and he Embraces them without hesitation.

After the end of the Second World War, and after having stopped the Disaster that the Thule Society attempted to trigger, Jonathan returns to London and reunites with Elizabeth. They begin to travel, having long been confined by necessity and by duty.

Later in the ‘40s, an American tycoon tracks them down with an offer. He asks Jonathan to come and join a new society he is building, one “where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality”. This is the wrong message, as Jonathan cares greatly about the “petty morality” that this man so greatly despises. When Jonathan tells him about the cures he gave away for free during the Epidemic, the man leaves quickly, leaving behind a few choice words about altruism.

In early 1967, Geoffrey McCullum comes across a helmeted, suited figure attempting to make off with a child from the Docks. The fight with it is intense, as it is strong, fast, and can throw fireballs from its hand. After losing several good men, and nearly being set on fire, McCullum succeeds in bringing it down.

Taking off the helmet gives him one hell of a shock: It’s a teenage girl by the looks of it. She’s extremely tall for her apparent age, and very frail despite her perceived strength. Something’s not right about her, and McCullum knows just the man to find out what.

Thankfully, Dr. Jonathan Reid happens to be in London, and McCullum wastes no time sending for him. What Reid finds is... disturbing.

For a start, the girl has been mutated. Her blood is much like a Skal’s, the cells unstable, yet the mutations are very different. The powers that McCullum and his men reported about are very different from anything that an Ekon or any other kind of vampire is capable of, and in fact they’re very lethal to vampires (Fireball + Ekon = Dead Ekon).

Besides the unusual height or the mono-color eyes (which reportedly glowed while she was alive), the oddest thing about her is a tumor of sorts on her stomach. It’s not like stomach cancer, like her own cells turning cancerous; this looks like it was something else originally, and then was grafted onto her stomach. Its cells are the most unstable and mutated in her entire body. Reid is at a loss as to where she came from or what she is.

Later, Jonathan and Elizabeth notice more and more reports of little girls being kidnapped in coastal towns and cities on both sides of the Atlantic. Remembering that the “Diver” was trying to take a child, they begin looking further into these incidents. They learn of an American named Mark Meltzer who has been drawing the same conclusions as they are in his own investigations. They decide that it’s high time they pay the States a visit again.

After arriving in the US, they just miss Meltzer before he leaves the country. After figuring out where he’s headed, they follow after him, coming to a spot off the coast of Iceland. They arrive just in time to see Meltzer’s boat attacked by monstrous creatures that emerge from surfacing spherical submersibles, that begin attacking their boat too.

To escape the creatures, Jonathan and Mary jump into the water and make it to one of the submersibles, hijacking it and setting it to take them back underwater. They are amazed when they see the sphere’s destination: A city resting on the sea floor. Jonathan is amazed further when he sees a statue bearing the visage of one Andrew Ryan, the very same man who came to him with his offer over twenty years earlier.

Andrew Ryan’s city of “Rapture” is real indeed.

Thoughts?

#vampyr #bioshock #dr. jonathan reid #elizabeth ashbury #jonathan x elizabeth #geoffrey mccullum #andrew ryan #world war 1 #spanish flu #world war 2 #thule society #bioshock 2 #video games #crossover #headcanons #this ties into my bioshock sinking city crossover as well

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h0unds-of-h3ll · 1 year

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Epilogue

“Everything good must come to an end.”

- Geoffrey Chaucer.

Jonathan levy x reader smut.

Word count: 6k

Viewers beware you’re in for a scare with: Depression level angst, heavy sexual themes, smut, breeding kink, power exchange, age gap, daddy kink, a little hint of dd/lg, abuse of power, explicit language and themes, rough smut, sex in public, nudes, very graphic detail of sex, talk of punishment, dirty talk, jealousy, over protectiveness, spanking, overstim, choking, biting, bruising, fingering, rough blow jobs.

A/n: y’all dirty animals wanted a part two, so eat up. Might I say I didn’t hold anything back, plz beware of the warnings. Sorry for taking forever to write this I just wanted it to be a masterpiece. The second part to this: lovers exchange.

Jonathan’s hair stood on his skin, as the sun's glow of the early morning shone through his curtains. Bars of gold hit his bare chest. His long body contorted on his sofa. The chatter of hollow television continued to chime. He moves his forearm away from his eyes. Groggily blinking his dull eyes open. The beige ceiling and instant brightness blind him. He winced to himself before sitting up, putting his elbows on his knees, and running his hands over his face. He groans, smoothing out his hair. He sighs, slipping his glasses back on. His eyes adjust in a quick second. He only had approximately three hours of sleep before he passed out ultimately. His brain never fully rested running with rampant images of you. Before he can register it he’s running up his stairs, two at a time. To his bedroom and bathing. A short brisk shower and basic hygiene are kept in pristine condition. He stills. The wet splat of droplets crusading down his body made dark circles on the tile. He pauses giving his reflection a minute. Dismal rings are around his eyes, almost looking black from sleep deprivation.

He thanks the world that he’s going to get coffee with you. Almost having a mental breakdown about what clothes he should wear, he has a breakthrough. Remembering what you’ve said about his cardigans and khakis. He blushes. It really feels like a fever dream, he’s an imposter of himself. Pausing by the floor-length mirror Mira had purchased. Pivoting to see himself from all angles. White shirt, mousey wool coat, with dark brown pants. He stylishly rolled up the ends twice, he should change his emerald green socks. He thinks it compliments his beige tones and his gray shoes. Scratching his neck he sighs. Looking at his watch to find the hour to be nine. He swears. Even if he’s going to be early, he wants to be comfortable before you arrive. He’s rehearsed everything he was going to say to you. Reciting over in his mind in a tandem. His aged body doesn’t move as fast as it used to as he hobbled down his stairs. Grabbing his keys out of the dish along with his satchel off the rack. Locking the door on his way out, he jogs out of the house that he hated and starts his car. Knuckles white at the right grip around the steering wheel, he ponders a story he once read that’s eerily reminiscent of his life. Lolita, is slightly less illegal.

_______

He parks by the side of the building, not in the lot. People billow out of stores into another on the busy street of the city. Completely engrossed by the people, it’s strange. How strangers are programmed to detach themselves from others, to not intrude on bystanders out of their circle. Enlightened to know that you stumbled onto his messy circle. Poking holes into the plastic bag around his head so he can breathe. Walking down the street by the greyhound bus, he wonders if you’re on it. His heart flutters thinking of you being so close. He wraps his chilly hands around the strap of his bag, keeping him anchored.

Keeping his head buried to his chest as he pushes open the glass doors of the cafe. There’s a few other people all from different backgrounds scattered around. Sat drinking and conversing. A couple is fondling one another in a corner. It makes him burn up with embarrassment for walking in on it. He dashes into the industrial loft, to a booth seated by the enormous window. Shrugging off his satchel, he takes off his coat too. He puts the thick fabric over his bag. He folds his hands neatly on his lap. A soft folk song pours from the speakers, he pushes his glasses up. People watching is his new favorite hobby. They’re younger than him, hipsters who laugh at obnoxious jokes. Who overindulge in pda. For some reason Jonathan feels like he doesn’t belong. The stereotypical mundane things people do are normal. He doesn’t feel normal, not in any way. This was such a stupid idea. It was just a story. Fiction.

Contemplating for a while, he plays with his fingers absolutely lost in his thoughts. He pulls his jacket off his bag, reaching in to retrieve his current read. It’s worn and faded, one of his favorites. Knowing he can recite it front to back without question. The Scarlet Letter. He just can’t get over the taboo, the utter mourning of tragedy. Opening the abraded book to the number he mesmerized. Reading through a third of the book, he realizes its ten past the original meeting time. Having to wave off the poor server twice since he first came. What if he was a fool? What if you didn’t want to meet with an old creep who has an agenda? He bounces his leg, knee brushing the underside of the table with each jump. Closing the book over his finger to hold his spot, he does the thing he does best and overcompensates. Now Jonathan is a grown man, and he’s not upset, but his ego is bruised. He breathes heavily as he gets worked up. He considers leaving.

Before he does, he hears the bell chime as the door opens. Head popping up to find the visitor to be a disgruntled you. Messy absolutely wild hair. Your backpack strewn carelessly on your shoulders. One hand you hold a strap to keep it on, the other you hold your phone with white earbuds connected. He’s shocked to find your shoes on the right feet. His heart stops and time freezes, as it does he wonders how fast he can sprint to the bathroom. Your head whips around finding him pale face and wide eyed. A bright, stunning smile spreads across your face. Tangled hair bobbing as you walk, you wave at him; he returns the greeting with a meek smile. As you settle down into your seat across from him. He smiles at your perfume and he’s whipped by the scent. It’s youthful like spring, nothing like Mira’s dry smelling daffodils. Shrugging off your bag, you pluck the buds from your ears. Pausing your music. You’re sweating and breathing like you ran a marathon.

“Hi.”

He smiles wider, eyes crinkling.

“Hello.”

You sit straighter, smoothing out your lilac damp shirt. Wondering if that’s your perfume he’s smelling or if your body’s essence smells just that good.

“Missed the bus. Had to run. Sorry I was late.”

So you weren’t on the bus. Each pause that you took you huffed. Gasping to breathe. He shoves his book back into his bag, his physical spot lost. Mentally he’s at page 100. His attention is fully onto you.

“It’s alright, are you okay?”

Your eyes bulge out of your head, jumping at his question. For you to have run so far, you’re full of energy, youth.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m just not used to extracurriculars such as track.”

He chuckles, smart too. Extracurriculars. He’ll be thinking about that one for a while. Curtly nodding at your response.

“Well, I’m happy you made it.”

You beam up at him, eyes gleaming and big. You reach over across the table to squeeze his forearm. His mouth is almost dropping at your affection.

“Thanks for inviting me!”

He pushes a hand to his hair when you remove your delicate touch. He scratches lightly at his scalp, then brushes his curls away from his face. Your eyes catch onto the cover of his book. Quirking your head to the side you read the title aloud.

“The Scarlet Letter?”

You furrow your brows in confusion along with curiosity. He jumps at your question, feeling like a kid red-handed. He hides it, when you look at him.

“What’s it about?”

His mouth falls agape, trying to find a string of comprehensive thoughts. He desperately searches for an answer that doesn’t make him sound like a freak.

“Forbidden love.”

_______

Jonathan is full of hapless serotonin. He’s found a new subject for his people watching. Adoring watching you, to examine the things you do subconsciously. Be a simple witness to admire your beauty. How you cover your mouth when you eat, place a napkin onto your lap. Such diner etiquette learned at such a young age has his blood rushing. He sips on his black coffee, hating the brew. It’s much different from his own. Much more acidic than the one he makes. He wonders if you’ll like the organic kind he drinks. He’s slightly frightened by your order, at least half a container of sugar is dumped into the cup. More of a carbonated energy drink he enjoys the mixture of elegance and chaos you exude. You chew your muffin with stuffed cheeks.

“What music do you listen to?”

He most likely didn’t know the artist, but was still interested. Anything you listened to would easily be his most listened to after the conversation ended. You ball your hand into a fist, to hide your mouth as you chew.

“Lana.”

You grumble, almost scared to admit it. His pants get tight with the flow of blood to his cock. His stomach churns painfully. He’s heard of her, the infamous philosophy she’s developed for young women. It’s a phenomenon to him, but it suits you. The femme fatale.

“Del Rey?”

He mumbles, giving him a brief nod. You smile as much as you can with a full mouth.

“Surprised you know her.”

He knows of her; he doesn’t know a single thing about her. He doesn’t listen to a lot of music; he doesn’t have social media. He just never really got it. There’s seven- no, he read an article where there’s eight billion people in the world right now. Already gets nervous about the people he walks by on the street and around the ones in his close circle. He’s happy to be unknown and be a hermit. So knowing Lana was a win. Smiling softly in agreement to your claim.

“One of my students did a thesis for impressionable young women for them to stay wary of what media they digest. They wrote about Mrs. Rey. Albeit grotesque, I like the Cola song.”

You gulp down much of your muffin. You snort, laughing to yourself how strange it was to hear.

“What? I like the song, what’s so wrong about that?”

He laughs with you, a charming big smile on his face.

“You can like it however much you want. But that will forever be comical.”

You point an accusatory his way, waggling it. Dropping it when the laughter dies down to a small smile. It’s quiet for a few minutes, peaceful even, warm. Not the awkward quiet, the one where the silence is mutually understood and welcomed. He licks his lips, tasting the harsh grain on the sensitive skin.

“I was amused by reading your commission.”

He nearly chokes on his tongue, seeing your eyes widen.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

It is less bubbly than your normal chime, more serious. It’s an interesting contrast. He runs his forefinger over the ring of his cup, collecting the substance then bringing it to his mouth.

“Like I said in the email I sent. I’d like to discuss your afflatus. I’m more than interested in knowing where it sourced from.”

He’s intrigued how your eyes glow when you’re acknowledged.

“Have you ever had a dream that felt real?”

He nods slowly, almost hesitantly curious where this was going.

“It was kinda like that for me. Except each time I would walk through this door into this room.”

You pause, eyes taking over his top half. He’s wearing a silver chain that dips under the collar. You weren’t sure how but it made his already alluring neck more appealing.

“I was just completely captivated by this person and well, I wrote about my dreams.”

You shrug nonchalantly, his stomach flips. You tiptoed about just saying outright it was about him. A dirty brief fantasy you had about your mentor. He wondered if every time he taught and glanced at you. Your Bambi eyes gawking at him, you were thinking of such things. He drinks from the cold cup, the liquid almost gone.

“It’s admirable how much you retain from these

dreams.”

He waves a hand in the air like he does when he’s teaching.

“How vivid you made these,”

He clears his throat, noticing your prying eyes at the muscles in his arms contracting. His eyes close halfway, staring you down from the bridge of his nose.

“Encounters.”

You beam brightly at his praise.

“I-, thank you. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

You sheepishly say with your head tucked downwards. Oh, so now you’re shy? He tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth.

“I wanted to introduce you to this program that the college is starting. It’s an apprenticeship to become an insightful tutor to other students.”

He bites down harshly on his bottom lip, tugging at the flesh.

“It’s an extracurricular, I think you’d do well in it since you said you didn’t partake in any others.”

You can’t refuse his offer, he put your own words against you.

“I completely understand if that’s something you do not wish to do. However, I think you’re the most suitable candidate.”

Your stomach bursts from excitement. Unlimited hours with someone you’re completely infatuated with? It’s so mind-boggling that you’re becoming dizzy.

“Is there an application form I have to sign?”

He smiles wide, happy to know that you’re more than willing to be his apprentice.

“Not really, no. But, there is a sheet that I need to give you.”

He turns to run a hand through his bag trying to find the papers. He comes up dry. Shit. He left them at home; he cursed himself for leaving in such a haste. Face falling before an idea pops into his head. He grabs a napkin and a pen from his bag scribbling down his number and giving it to you.

“Unfortunately, I’ve forgotten the papers. Please, if you have any questions or concerns, contact me.”

He smiles warmly, as you nod, staring at the numbers briefly before pocketing them.

“Will do.”

_______

He almost lost his mind when you offered to pay. After a great conversation with you and a farewell. He’s practically in the clouds. It’s the Evening now, mostly spending the day chatting with you. It didn’t feel like hours to him, just a casual meeting with an old friend. A very attractive friend. As he drives home, he listens to Lana. Thinking of all the pretty smiles and suggestive glances you gave him. God what fuel for his eager brain. He hums to the tune as he pulls into his street; he notices a familiar car parked in the middle of where he parks Mira.

He almost has a heart attack as he pulls in. She wasn’t supposed to be here for another week. He sighs, grabbing his bag and keys. Trudging up the steps and opening the door. He’s met with literally the scariest thing ever, Mira making dinner with his kid perched up on a stool. Mira will go through later, but he wraps his jacket and satchel on the hook. He kisses the small child on her head.

“Hey sweetie.”

She mutters a small squeak of ‘hi dad’ and gives him a small hug. Mira turns, hair put up messily as she pours boiling water into the sink. He’s told her over and over that using a strainer is very useful but she continues to do it her way. He crouches, pinching Ava’s small cheeks. Tilting his head, sorrow fills him. She’s grown so much since the last time he’s seen her. It’s just the cost of separation, it’s okay though, it’s supposed to be his weekend.

“Glad to see you’ve joined us.”

Mira sneers, not looking up from the mess she’s making.

“Was busy.”

She whips her head to him, eyes fiery and body rigid. He doesn’t even know why she’s pissed at him but he’s used to it. He just plops into the chair next to the kid who’s grabbing at his fingers.

“Oh yeah, where were you?”

He wants to lie; it wasn’t her business, anyway. Maybe therefore he couldn’t do it anymore. This fighting every night, the difference and insecurity. He breathes in, fixing to do the ten things you hear and feel, before he freaks the fuck out.

“I don’t know Mira I was..just out?”

She laughs a bitter laugh like the gross coffee that’s making his stomach hurt.

“You just avoided the question. Where were you Jon?”

He hated the demeaning way she used his name. Biting on his tongue, pressing his head to the stool.

“I went out to the coffee shop for a meeting.”

She pauses for a second before she goes back to cleaning up the pasta and ravioli she just made, knowing that he doesn’t like the processed shit. She turns, hands on hips.

“Oh. And with who?”

He chokes, he wants to smash his head on the table. Think of a name. Any name that’s on the board.

“L/n.”

Christ’s sake.

“Huh, that’s funny I don’t remember a L/n being on council.”

She sneers.

“She’s new.”

Mira makes a mental note of her, she shakes her head walking to the table. Handing the kid her bowl and setting one out for Jonathan and herself. She chews slowly.

“I didn't sign them.”

Jonathan makes an airplane to land in the kid’s mouth. Cupping under to catch whatever falls. His eyebrows pinch together.

“What?”

Mira stares at the food she eats.

“I didn’t sign the papers you served me.”

Jonathan’s jaw ticks. The bones locking up. Fury rages beneath his skin.

“What?”

He asks again in disbelief. She’s the one who wanted to get separated. She’s the one who cheated on him with Poli. He laughs brutally.

“Are you joking? Please tell me you are?”

She scoffs, offended.

“Why would you think I’d be joking about this?”

She rolls her eyes.

“Of course you want to push this on me. Make me a single mom with no support.”

She says it as a fact as if it wasn’t the farthest from it. She’d have a more than sustainable life with Poli and he wasn’t making her do anything. He sighs, getting riled up.

“Whatever, I just-“

He stops shrugging and shaking his head.

“I don’t know anymore.”

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He clinks the small spoon into the dish and he reaches into his pocket. Confused who might summon him. His eyes bulge out of his head. He wonders if it’s a spam message, one of those things where if you respond they take your identity. A nude lady with an absolute jaw dropping figure dressed in lavender lingerie. Posing in a scandalous contortion. His cock instantly hardens on his thigh. Your face relaxed with eyes looking up and tongue rolled out. Hand tucked into those skimpy panties. His heart pounds against his chest. He quickly pushes the rectangle to his chest. Eyes wild to find his daughter playing in the pasta. Why- who- what- he can’t even think right. In the bottom text is just filth:

“Touching myself to you, daddy.”

“Who is that?”

Mira asks and Jonathan’s up and out.

“Excuse me.”

He rushes up the stairs and into his bathroom Quickly pacing around hands in his hair. He texts back:

“Wrong number.”

Three little dots appear and disappear as anticipation builds. He sighs falling back on his bed with a heave. He thinks that the worst part is that he’ll jerk off to that picture later.

_______

The first day of your new hobby has come. You wear a button up blouse that’s yellow, along with some loose pants and sneakers. Brushing your hair and teeth, spraying something that smelled like flowers. You grab your phone, plugging in your earphones. Reading a text from an unknown number:

“Wrong number.”

Your eyebrows pinch as you unlock your phone. The picture you sent to who you thought was the friendly boy from class ended up being..not who you thought it was. Yet it was your former professor you forgot to put a contact for. You blush profusely, sitting down on your bed. Trying to ground yourself, you have a headache. How could you make such a mistake? Now it made sense why your sneaky link didn’t text back. You groan, rubbing your temples. Horrible turned to worse. As the alarm rang telling you need to leave to make it on time. You wonder if you should stay or not. To just wallow in the suffering of embarrassment of perpetual grief. That your one shot with your handsome more antiquated counterpart was ruined. To think of it all was because you sent him proof you masturbated to him.

_______

Jonathan trudges through the enormous doors, with his home brewed coffee sipping from the mug. He strides into the vacant auditorium, shocked to actually find you sitting on a stool next to his chair. Nose shoved into a book and listening to music. He smiles to himself walking to the desk and taking his things off. He likes the yellow; it suits you well. The lilac was too mature for you. You look up at him, taking a bud out.

“Morning.”

He whispers. You nod your head, putting the bud back in and returning to the book. Cold as ice, it has him frostbit. He sits in his swivel chair with a plop. Rubbing his temples trying to not encourage the head splitting headache that’s growing. He can already tell today is going to be interesting. It’s noon when his first class comes in. You mostly had done nothing, just proofread over assignments and emails, redoing poor grammar and punctuation errors. He stands pointing to something on the board which had an image projected on it. He’s babbling about something, rolling up the sleeves of his gray sweater that hugs him a little tighter than usual. Strong arms being shown has your pussy clenching. Soft tingles bursting in your stomach. You’re supposed to keep your distance; he probably thinks you’re a freak. You bow your head smiling to yourself. He reaches up to grab the screen that’s rolled up at the top of the chalkboard. As he reaches his sweater pulls up showing the curve of his pelvis. The hair flowing from his abdomen down below his pants open to the public. Your breath catches and your eyes dart away. He walks over to his desk, sitting back down next to you. You can feel his heat radiating off him buzzing over to you.

“Turn the lights off.”

He whispers in your ear, and you jolt up.

“What?”

“The lights. Turn them off.”

You nod, pivoting and switching them off. Darkness spreads throughout the large room. The gigantic mass of students almost filled every seat. That’s usually how it is when a new semester begins. Young excited individuals, soon to find the crushing weight to toll. The light chatter dies as the film plays. He obviously made them read the book beforehand, had an excruciating test over it in order to watch and behold in all its glory. Some old French romance that’s a revolutionary development in art and culture. You watch the movie on his computer.

It’s almost a private screening, reserved for two. There’s great unspoken tension between the two of you. He knows and you know the tragic consequences of what happened. However, if the both of you wanted to forget then why not just stop thinking about it? Both of you are corrupted entirely by the other. Jonathan crosses his arms, bouncing his leg. He tilts his head to the side.

“Glad you came.”

He licks his lips.

“The movie is pretty tedious, actually.”

You smirk.

“Oh, really?”

He nods as you continue a hushed conversation.

“Yeah, the only striking thing is that she murders him in the end.”

You let out a shocked gasp, softly hitting him in the arm.

“Spoilers!”

He looks at you like you’re crazy. Making you smile. It was too hard to resist the intoxicating feeling you get off him. The taboo is exciting, but the banter is better.

“How could it be spoilers? I specifically assigned this to be read by last week?!”

He scolds. He leans back, fake shock written on his face.

“I’m floored that you didn’t read it.”

You scrunch your nose, pointing a finger at him.

“It’s not that I didn’t read it.”

You pause, shrugging.

“I just didn’t read all of it.”

He clicks his tongue on the back of his teeth shaking his head, gray curls following.

“Poor excuse.”

You smile leaning back into your chair, watching the movie with him. You notice how he spreads his legs wider, scooting a tad bit closer to you. Mira isn’t here, he reminds himself. It’s better to ask for forgiveness than for permission. He watches the black and white woman dance along the train tracks resembling lost in hope. He bites his lip leaning down again.

“You look ravishing in lavender.”

You bury your face in your chest.

“Thank you.”

He nods.

“I like the little gems on the panties.”

Your mouth closes tight. He uncrosses his arms. One shoves into his pocket, the other lightly tracing the wrinkles in your pants. Your eyes dart from the screen to the students. It’s impossible to make them out in the dark.

“They can’t see, I’ll be shocked if any of them are awake.”

You think for a second before the uneasiness fades.

“Okay.”

You whisper, and he takes it. His hand is slotting on the inside of your thigh. Gradually rubbing up and down, stroking you. Each stroke has him growing. His pinky rubs your clothed slit. The friction makes you grind your hips into his palm.

“Patience little girl. We still have an hour and a half left.”

You groan, biting your lips almost until it draws blood. He runs his forefinger, pushing in he can feel you soaking through the fabric. He does it slowly, like he does when thinking and runs it around the mouth of coffee. Clit to hole, up and down. Your head hurts as you get lost in his hand.

“Touch me.”

He smirks, casting a look over the crowd. He puts his fingers over the tops of your pants and the bottom of your blouse. His nose digs into the side of your cheek from how close he is. His lips brushed the bone.

“What makes you think that you're good enough to think about me when you're touching yourself?

He tugs your pants open. He runs his tongue over his lips, teeth glinting. Your breath catches in your throat, heart pumping fast from the reference of the photo. He was right you weren’t getting off a fellow peer but to the man who smells like heaven.

“Hm?”

He questions softly. He tilts his head to the side, examining you. He pushes the top of his index in.

“Going to teach you some morals, won't I?”

He smirks as he takes his hand back out.

“Sending suggestive pictures to older men is wrong,”

His breath fans over your neck. It’s quiet before he speaks again.

“Isn’t it?”

His thumb soothes below your belly button.

“Yes.”

You whisper almost as soft as the snore of an unconscious student. His hand sinks down from your stomach to your pubic bone. He scratches the hair, making your skin crawl. His fingers dip and he’s instantly damp with your slick.

“Should tell me what’s going on in that filthy mind of yours.”

He growls in your ear, his voice magnified by his proximity. He moves his finger back and forth on the ball of nerves. Your hips jutting up to his arm. Your hand scratches his thigh, squeezing tight. He pushes down, hand fully in your pants and Uber your panties. Constricting him to be close. He pushes his finger into you, feeling you coat him more.

“Go on.”

He thrusts his finger deeper.

“Tell me.”

You can’t think when his fingers are in you, his thumb rolling your clit.

“Want you to fuck me.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Where?”

He pushes another one beside the other.

Your grip tightening.

“Anywhere, on the desk. Front of everyone I don’t care.”

He smiles, swallowing.

“Dirty girl. Wanting me to give everyone a show.”

He tears through your core, making you mewl.

“Is your little boyfriend here?”

You freeze, eyes popping open. You look at him like you’ve seen a ghost. It’s one thing that he’s seen it, another that he knows who it’s actually for. He licks his lips, tongue pulling in his bottom lip. His eyes were unwavering. You nod briefly and he sneers.

“It's funny that you thought he could have you. Have you want him as much as you want me.”

Jonathan’s not entirely sure why he’s spewing this shit maybe it's jealousy. But he’s making you keen.

“Have to fuck an old man in order to get off. How sad.”

His fingers fasten, and he’s curling them. Your toes curl in your shoes, eyes rolling back as your thighs shake. A hot wave crashes over, and suddenly your thighs are sticky and wet. You lay your head on his shoulder, sleepily. He pulls his hand out of your pants. Zipping them backup for you. Letting you sit in the puddle you made yourself. He sucks his fingers clean before wiping them off on his thigh. As he watches the film, he crosses his arms. He presses a gentle kiss to your hairline.

“Stay after lunch and I’ll fuck you.”

He laughs quietly

“If you can keep up, sweetheart.”

_______

Twenty something walk out of the class. Some stretching with a yawn, others asking Jonathan questions. As you sit there flustered and uncomfortable. Hoping they won’t figure something out. The last student walks out. Jonathan types something into his computer. It’s quiet and filled with tension. You wonder if he’s actually going to fulfill his promise. He looks at you.

“Get on your knees.”

You take out your ear buds and put them along with your phone into the bag. You push yourself off the chair and onto your knees crawling between his spread legs. Your hands come to steady yourself. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb rubbing against your jaw.

“Gotta do a few more things.”

His hand leaves to unbuckle his pants.

“In the meantime, keep your mouth warm for me.”

He unzips and takes himself out of his pants. The ruddy head is a pretty dark red. Thick veins running up his shaft. He works himself over a few times. He taps the crown on your lips and you lift on your knees to lick him into your mouth. He groans but quickly returns to his work typing away something. You make it your goal for him to not concentrate. You flatten your tongue. Shoving your face down to the coarse hairs at the base. One hand grabs your hair to hold your face down. He thrusts shallowly. You gag and sputter and he lets you breathe. You lick the tip as you huff. Beads of ivory roll down his shaft. You lick them up and the veins pulse in response. You take him fully into your mouth once more. Dipping them comes back up with a wet slurp. He’s thrusting up. His lips part, he takes his glasses off. Throwing his head back he just lets you swallow him then come up. He’s close as his legs shut and pulls you off him.

“So good at everything. Especially that fucking mouth of yours.”

He pulls you up making you walk to the board, hands flat on the wall. Ass perched as he kicks your feet out. Thirty minutes he reminds himself, before the next class comes. He holds his pants up with one hand. He gropes your body with his other. Squeezing your hips, your stomach and chest. His hand stays at your lower stomach. You know what he’s thinking; he wants to make his. Make you have his kid. He wonders if Mira would be pissed. He doesn’t care.

“Try not to scream.”

He grabs your jaw, tilting your head to kiss you. His tongue instantly pushes through your mouth. Scooping out each inch. You whine, jerking your hips back. His hand drops from your jaw. To pull your pants down around your ankles. He squeezes your hip. Grinding his cock into the crevice of your ass. His girth spreads open your cheeks. Weighing heavy on your dry hole, but he dampens the slit with his own set cum. He bites your shoulder. Pawing at your hips. A hand falls to hold himself to run over your folds. The head, easily slickened. He slides in. Not waiting for you to adjust to surge his hips forward. A loud moan hit through you. His hand wraps around your throat, constricting your breath. Not allowing you to breathe. Head going fuzzy and vision blackening. Your mouth hangs open. He pulls you to his chest once your arms give out. His elbow hits your shoulder as he thrusts. His balls brushing your thighs. His little huffs heat the shell of your ear. It makes your core clench to know he’s there. Fucking you, touching you, needing you as much as you do.

“I should be mad about you teasing me.”

He bites your ear and the rumble of a moan as your walls flutter.

“But how can I be mad when you give me what I want?”

His hips undulate, the roughest smacking is heard through the bare walls similar to the applause of an encore. He likes the yellow reminding him of the rising sun he watches before driving here. The strange ecstatic feeling he got when he thought of you. He’s wrinkling your shirt as he fucks you. You can even hear him, too unfocused to even. The burn of his beard on your shoulder is the only thing that kept you anchored. Once your lungs burn with fire and your body shakes. You claw at his forearm begging for him to release. Each pound of his hips into your ass is another red streak down his arm. His hips are still deep inside you. You feel the warmth implore your womb. He releases and instantly you're leaking down your thighs. Exploding with your own orgasm. Your eyes roll back in your head. He holds your hips to his. Kissing your hairline as you come crashing down. He pulls his pants up and buckles them. Helping you dress yourself on unsteady legs. In all honesty you couldn’t even walk. As you limp to sit uncomfortably back on your seat, he crouched down. Slotting on his glasses, his eyes dark embers. There’s something strangely exotic, addicting to fucking someone who’s a teacher, someone older who can teach you what you want. His hand rests on your knee as he rubs his thumb back and forth there. He smiles after studying you. Kissing your hand softly. That fatherly instinct kicking in, the caring adoring one that takes over his whole being to care.

It’s attractive the tone of the greedy man replaced by a teddy bear. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before kissing your forehead.

“It’s better than fiction.”

#jonathan levy x reader #jonathan levy #scenes from a marriage #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac hernandez estrada #jonathan levy x reader smut #oscar isaac x reader smut #fanfiction #smut #oscar isaac smut

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charox5 · 3 months

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Fan Art from the Fanfic “Unlikely Case of Shared Custody” by the lovely IvyCorp! Check it out! Jon and Geoff get invited over to Clarence’s home and Geoff gets sooo drunk, ends up taking Jon’s coat and is unable to understand why it’s not his lol Jon is smug about him making a fool of himself. I’ve kinda always wanted to draw Geoff in Jon’s coat…. For scientific purposes of course… 👀

#geoffrey mccullum #vampyr art #mcreid #geoffrey x jonathan #jonathan reid #vampyr fanfiction #my art

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storiesundercandlelight · 1 year

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I am in love with your Vampyr work, I just love my lovely Dr. Reid and surly Geoffrey fics like a desert enjoys the rainfall~ If you're still taking requests, can I have one where Jon takes his lady back home (and Geoff is following/spying) and knowing he's being stalked, proceeds to ravish her near the windows. Bonus: next night, Geoff can't look him in the eye, lol!

This has got to be the best request I've had in a minute! I cried with laughter when I first read it! I loved it so much I almost did a Geoffrey version too!!

Jonathan x F!Reader

Warnings: NSFW +18 (slightly anyway...more suggestive than going into detail)

The sound of Jonathan and your footsteps were light on the dark streets of London, usually Jonathan would have walked you home earlier than this given the situation at present in the city. But your evening had gone on longer than expected, Jonathan's research was finally proving useful enough to take up a considerable amount of both of your time.

Not that he was complaining, getting to spend more time with you was worth the slightly brisk walk back to your home.

It wasn't until you'd both made it halfway from the hospital that he sense him. Geoffrey was a good hunter there was no mistaking it, but Jonathan recognised his scent easily, the way his heat beat far too steadily in his chest as he followed the pair. The fact that Geoffrey McCullum felt the need to stalk Jonathans movements annoyed the Ekon far more than he'd let on. After everything he'd done so far as well as avoiding any guards of Priwen he came across, leaving them unharmed, should have been enough to prove to Geoffrey they were on the same side. But no, clearly the hunter wasn't giving up on his prey so easily.

Jonathan wasn't sure McCullum would know about his private life with you, or you at all for that matter. Jonathan was certain he'd never followed the two of you before so he found it unlikely he would be in the know about your relationship. Probably just assuming I have mesmerised her, taking her somewhere quiet to finish her off.

Jonathan almost stopped walking as the idea formed in his mind. God what a scandalous idea it was too. A small smirk pulled at his lips as his grip on your hand increased and he pulled you slightly quicker down the street. You looked at him in question but Jonathan simply put his finger to his lips, shh you'll find out, his expression said.

He sense McCullum keeping pace, staying in the shadows, ironic really. By the time you'd both made it back to your house you were still confused and non the wiser as to Jonathans plan. Where would he do it? Sneak around back into the garden perhaps? When Jonathan lead you down the side alley of your home you almost stopped him to ask what on earth he was doing, but he hardly gave you the chance. Opening the gate and leading up to the back door of your home, leading to a generous kitchen....with windows. Perfect.

Jonathan couldn't believe the plan he'd conjured up in his mind, could hardly believe he was actually going through with it. Perhaps he simply wanted McCullum to realise Jonathan had other intentions besides drinking blood and giving into the best Geoffrey so often called him. Perhaps he wanted to show him he was different and still clinging to human life. Perhaps he wanted to simply embarrass him.

Either way, Jonathan excitedly pulled you though the back door once you'd unlocked it, kicking it closed behind him as he walked you to the furthest counter. Knowing full well McCullum would need to enter the garden to see them from that angle. Jonathan lit a single candle - Geoffrey's human eyes would need the help after all- before making quick work of lifting you onto the empty counter top.

"If I had known this was the reason for your eagerness to get me home we could have left sooner" You giggled as Jonathan pushed your now open blouse down your shoulder, placing kisses as the fabric fell down exposing your skin to his lips. He wouldn't remove everything, just incase, he didn't want to give McCullum too much of a show. His hands slipped down pushing the skirts covering your legs up until we could happily slot between your thighs, his covered length evident already.

McCullum sighed as he carefully pried open the lock of the gate, he'd caught a glimpse of Reid leaving the hospital, the girl on his arm had caught his attention. He'd never seen Reid with her before. Call it whatever you like but he couldn't let the girl go home with a leech, likely unknowingly walking to her death.

He wouldn't give Reid the satisfaction of feeding tonight, or any night ahead if he had any say in it. The lock gave way and Geoffrey quietly pushed the gate open, slipping inside. The garden was dark, the path up to the back of the house just visible in the moonlight, his eyes snapped to the kitchen windows were a faint light flickered.

He moved fast, making his was up to the windows, keeping low to avoid being seen. A gasp, just audible through the closed windows from his position. His hand reached for his gun, pulling it from the holster he moved along the house, leaning up just enough to look inside the window. The kitchen was dull, the candlelight not aiding much to light the whole room but he saw shadows. Two shadows, Reid was leant over the girl. Geoffrey moved quickly to the further window, he'd be able to see Reid from there, perhaps take a shot at him through the glass.

Another noise came from behind the window, Geoffrey leant up, still out of shoot of the window, a well placed bush hiding him from view as he positioned himself. He leaned forward just enough to-

"Jesus fucking christ" Geoffrey's angered whisper would have almost carried through to Jonathan had he been just a fraction louder. The hunters face flared with heat as his eyes found the vampire and his so called prey. Jonathans' body was indeed hunched over her, but not in the way Geoffrey had hoped, or could ever have expected.

Jonathan's movements never faltered, even when he heard the hunters heartbeat increase momentarily, a quick secretive glance towards the window told his Geoffrey had fallen for the bait. Your moans simply adding to his grand plan. He also didn't stop himself from pushing you back further just a little to change the angle and hit a spot he knew would make you moan all that little bit louder.

Not the crime scene you expected is it hunter? Jonathan felt your hand come behind his neck pulling him to you, he followed placing a kiss to your lips before you pulled back just enough to speak.

"As happy as I am for you being able to make your point my love would you kindly bring your attention back into the room now?"

"You knew?"

"Yes it was rather transparent I'm afraid" You smirked and pushed your hips into Jonathans quickening the pace slightly. "I hope he appreciated the show"

McCullum made a quick dash down the garden and back out the gate, no longer able to allow himself to watch. When he reached the Main Street again he cursed. "Fucking leech"

The only thing more satisfying than Jonathan's plan last night and being intimate with you was the idea of Geoffrey having to be in the same room as him tonight. Edgar had arranged a meeting with McCullum and wanted Jonathan to be present, he wasn't sure why but the reason hardly mattered to him as he quickly made his way up the main stairs in the hospital to Edgar's office.

He stopped when he saw McCullum waiting outside. "Geoffrey"

"Leech" McCullum spat, not unusual for him however.

"Edgar isn't here yet I take it?"

"Oh no I just thought I'd stand out here like a fucking idiot, what do you think?"

"About you being an idiot or Edgar being late?" Now usually a snide remark from Jonathan would have Geoffrey up in his face ready for a fight but the hunter barely glanced sideways at him. In fact to Jonathans delight he realised Geoffrey was looking everywhere but at him. "Geoffrey? Something wrong?" He could hardly keep the smirk off his face.

"No"

"Are you sure? You won't look at me"

"I don't make it a habit to acknowledge your kind unless you're on the end of my blade"

"Hmm quite" Jonathan paced a little edging closer to the hunter, he knew Geoffrey noticed, of course he would, but still his eyes remained on the door to Edgar's office. "Would you like to know what I think? About your aversion to looking at me I mean?"

"I don't care what you think about anything but I get the feeling you'll tell me anyway"

"I think...you went on a hunt last night and saw something you weren't expecting...or am I wrong?" This made Geoffrey look, his eyes flicked to Jonathan, a look on his face so pouty and pissed off Jonathan almost laughed.

"Why are you smiling like that you fucking-" Geoffrey turned to Jonathan now. "You fucking knew"

"Knew what?"

"Don't play fucking stupid with me you perverse fucker, you knew what you were doing"

"Only a little perhaps" Jonathans smile continued to grow at McCullum's discomfort and his own attempt not to laugh.

"I swear to fucking God leech-"

"Gentlemen please refrain from shouting insults in my hospital, I apologise for being late let's go in. McCullum why are you so red?" Jonathan did laugh then, walking into the office ahead of a very confused Edgar and a raging Geoffrey McCullum.

#dr jonathan reid #jonathan vampyr #jonathan reid x reader #jonathan reid #geoffrey mccullum #geoffrey vampyr #vampyr 2018 #vampyr game #vampyr

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