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funficwriter · 2 days

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A Wolf and a Snake (Wriothesley x Reader) Chapter 5: The Tides Are Changing

A/N: Enjoy!

Taglist: @yue-caelum, @reyy-chanx, @mis-disaster, @ladyarchiviste, @keigo-hawks-takami-simp

Warnings: Fighting lol, physical violence, pain, almost-heart failure (?), violent thoughts, yandere shit, yapping, vaginal fingering, a liiil bit of edging

"You've got to be careful.".

Even when scolding you, Agatha always laced her voice with sweetness. You could count the number of times she was genuinely mad at you on one hand. If she was this evening, you couldn't blame her given the circumstances.

"About?".

She sighed.

"You know damn well about what, Y/N. I'm fully on your side, and I think Lord Wriothesley will be great to you. But I worry... It's normal that you are happy beyond reason with him. I fear that you lose yourself in your happiness and forget that you're not supposed to be there, at that time, with him of all people.".

Deep down, you knew she was right. The circumstance that she worried about was your approaching wedding day, which catalyzed more and more restrictions for you. Your parents let you leave the house less and were more strict regarding your behavior, way of expression, speech... Everything.

With that, sneaking out to see Wriothesley was becoming a more challenging endeavor. Once a matter of meeting at night and being back before dawn, you now had to coordinate by the hours, pray to Focalors that no secret last-minute changes required your presence, be careful of the place and who was around (Fontainians, particularly of the higher classes, were Teyvat-renown gossipers), not laughing too loudly, and on top of it all, staying vigilant, which you were becoming notoriously bad at.

You were once a little paranoid, as you should have always been. Now, both you and Wriothesley forgot your meetings' lack of approval and the danger that may ensue. More than once, you risked being late in returning home; Had Agatha not sent a hurried message reminding you that more than one servant asked about you, you would have certainly been late enough for your Father to look for you.

Though the air of your conversation was tense, you knew you had to thank her for saving your skin.

"Y/N...".

She stopped herself from speaking once she said your name. She wouldn't have called out to you if not to say something. Something was troubling her.

"Yes? What is it, Agatha?".

After an awkward minute, she looked up to you. Her eye to yours, and her brow furrowed in disapproval. The same look your mother gave you when you played the piano badly.

"Y/N, I've always cherished you, but I have to say it: This is getting out of hand. Your adventures are becoming more ridiculous by the day. I had to pull out my rosaries to pray that you would come home before Master! I haven't done so in 20 years! I never had to keep this insane vigil over you when you started seeing Lord Wriothesley, because you knew. You always kept track of yourself, and I was fine with it. But developing eye bags? Losing track of time? Corrupting novice police forces? Making me shiver and cry for your safety?!".

All your life, Agatha took your side even if it meant putting her career as a governess at risk. There was no punishment she didn't try to protect you from, even though your parents worried that she would be lenient and ruin you. She even gave Wriothesley her approval, the only adult approval you cared about. Why was her tune changing like this?

"Agatha, I said I'm sorry and you accepted it! You know how horrible my life grows by the day, all for this blond swine I'm supposed to marry! I understand your concerns, but as of now, I haven't seen him in a month, and-".

"Y/N!!!".

She got up brusquely, an uncharacteristic gesture along with yelling your name. A pit of malaise started to grow in your stomach, and you were worried that it would spread to your esophagus and make you vomit. You didn't like where this was going.

"I would be patient if your little plan would yield its output sooner. But this is taking way too long! I've known girls who ran away with their lovers faster than you have! How much more is this going to take!? How many more near heart attacks will you give me?".

"Agatha, you told me to not jump to the drastic measure! We're still trying to do things the legitimate way-".

"Legitimate way? You're already spending your allowance the same way your Father did whenever he wanted something done faster than what the commoner got! Where's the legitimacy in that? Why do you still act for it?".

She went there. The pain was spreading to the pit of your belly, and its top.

"You want to talk about legitimate matters? How about that dumbass you call your half-brother who got kicked out of this manor like a dog? How about how he lost an entirely pleasurable and easy life because he doesn't know that an illegitimate sibling should STAY hidden?".

She gasped, burst into tears and you hugged her while apologizing for getting even lower, and you both cooled off... That's what would have happened in an ideal world where the both of you weren't so stressed. Only the first action took place.

She looked down at the floor, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered whether you had gone too far, digging into such sensitive history. But that ended when she looked up, even angrier and with teary eyes.

Agatha, the sweet-voiced. Agatha, the quiet and low of tone, a constant in your life. You did not think she could yell at you like this.

"My brother? MY BROTHER?!? You can drop the nice, exceptional noble act now! You screw commoners over with rules and break them with no regard for how the rest of us will be affected! At least my brother is still a man of integrity, and he'd sooner shoot himself than take your stupid bribes! Integrity! Can your money buy you that? Can your man-dog fling buy you that, or is he too busy with shiny bracelets and fake promises?!?".

"I never tried to bribe him, Agatha! I'm courteous enough to stay away from him! What do you mean, commoners getting fucked by rules?! Don't you think that I'm getting screwed out of a life I want? And that's why I need to do this behind everyone's backs?! And unlike him, Wriothesley does not make fake promises!".

She got up and close to your face, her tears even more visible. You never feared an adult's wrathful gaze upon you as much as hers'.

"You don't get it, do you, Y/N?".

"What?".

She stopped moving, and perhaps even breathing. Then she giggled and laughed raucously as if she were an evil witch from your childhood books. Or that one tutor who laughed at you when you gave a wrong answer.

She turned to the opposite side, before turning her face so you could see it sideways. She never gave this shit-eating grin.

"At least my brother is happily bound in holy matrimony. If Wriothesley was that intent on marrying you, he would have snatched you between his teeth by now. The length of this little plan makes it clear: He's just having a bit of fun with you.".

A bit of fun.

A day where he'll grow bored, ditch you to your grey life again, and forget about you. A day where he'll marry another woman. Not you.

In the red you saw, you slapped a vase to the ground, perhaps hallucinating Agatha's face.

"AGATHA!".

In hindsight, she was making sense. Wriothesley talked day and night, paper and in person, about how much he wanted to marry you. It was clear that legitimate methods, such as lawfully convicting your fiancé, were failing. Or taking way too long. In your world, these two were one and the same. Your marriage date was not getting postponed, even if you scarred your face the day of.

Agatha was being cruel, but she wasn't wrong. He knew and kept operating like this. You wished Wriothesley was here so you could claw his eyes out. So you could grab your sword and impale the heart he swore was yours. So you could stitch his mouth closed and he'd never tell lies again. So you could embarrass him the same way she just did.

You lunged at her, but she moved out of the way. You landed on the floor, messing up your (favorite color) dress. You never thought your fate could grow crueler. Even the color to your gray was turning out to be a lie.

All you could turn to your back and sob your heart out. Maybe if you avoided Agatha's pitiful gaze... Maybe if Celestia saw your blotched face and heard your cries, she would regret what she wrote as your fate.

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

You tried to distract yourself for the rest of the night. You occupied the piano only to play sad pieces and be praised for your "empathy with the composer". You snuck a piece of cake and took a bite before feeling sick again. You walked around the manor and only got a bunch of servants asking if you were alright, and your brother saying: "Don't worry. Whatever moroseness you feel will disappear when you walk down the aisle.". It took everything in you not to burst into tears on the spot.

You couldn't leave this prison you called a manor. The only place you didn't try was the low garden, even if it held the fateful moments of his appearance. Your chase. Your star-gazing. Your first kiss.

At least it wasn't enclosed in walls. It was worth a shot.

It was a night with few stars. You never liked those, because the night you met him was full of them. It was one of the loveliest sights you saw.

It seemed to you like starless nights were a time when most tragedies happened, like tonight and the night Agatha's half-brother- No, brother was exiled. Seriously, you had to correct that "half", even if it was technically true and it hurt her at the moment. You remembered when she started the story with: "My contract has an exclusive clause that I must not tell you this, so please, keep it between us.". And you did. You returned the favor and told her of damning actions that may as well be written in an exclusive clause citing harsh punishment, many of those actions being recent.

You wanted to cry again. Perhaps you still needed to calm down, you thought. Being here didn't help, so it was time to try something new. You left to the kitchen to make lavender and chamomile tea, a brew you often drank before exams or social events. You let the tea leaves steep for a little longer than you should have, hoping that the transitory act of making tea would take up a few more minutes of your miserable day. Once it was ready, you carried the mug to your room, steps as light as they have seen since you learned how to walk.

You set the mug on your desk before crashing down on your bed and taking a deep sigh. By the Archons, what a tiring mess your life was. You had a theory that every noble girl and woman could sleep for the rest of her life. It was tiring: From the acting to the constant monitoring of your actions, you felt like human beings weren't made for this. You were glad your bedroom was away and thus had less sound emerging from it. You were taught to never crash down on your bed as you did, but it was one of those little pleasures. Just like illegitimate snacks and staying up and baltering and twirling around for the pure enjoyment of seeing your skirt float up in circles ('Y/N! Be graceful, your legs are showing!!'), they were the only thing you could be grateful for now. Your governess just joined your family and society's side on how to live, and the man you loved was potentially toying with you all along.

You didn't know which mental picture bothered you more: Wriothesley laughing at your naivete, or Wriothesley courting another woman after he was done with you. It may be the second- no it was definitely the second. The first was horrible, but the second was a far bigger betrayal to you. Agatha would be right: His heart was never yours, his promises were always empty and you may have been blind at parties while he was ogling other women. If it would be because of their faces, should you slash them with a knife or curved dagger? If it were their bodies, should you cut off the parts he was ogling or the ones they liked the most about themselves? Which other women should you go after Wriothesley, if all of this is true? Did he actually prefer common women? Or perhaps... Older, more refined or mature women like your mother?

How could he possibly look at other women when he gave you your first bout of joy, the same way you expected him to give you your first orgasm? If he never wanted you, why would he start all of this?!

But was he looking at other women? During events, you could have sworn that that wasn't true. But what was true anymore? Why wasn't he telling you what was going on? What was going on, why were you the one left in the dark by both him and everyone else about your own future?

Your pained groan ended in its middle when you heard a bark. There was no dog in this room. You looked up to see Frosty on your desk. Unlike the usual, his tail wasn't wagging and he pined once you noticed him. A sad, pitiful pine that expressed you in your current entirety.

"What the- What are you here for? I didn't send Wriothesley anything, do you have something? Wait-".

The window was wide open. Frosty had something in his 'backpack' (did it have the same name for messenger dogs?), but the paper in question was much smaller than the usual letters he sent. The ink looked stronger, too. You opened it. The format of the contents was also starling:

'Y/N

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FOLLOW THE PUP. I CAN'T STAND THIS.

I LOVE YOU, SO PLEASE COMPLY,

WRIOTHESLEY'

"Where to, then?".

Frosty jumped out of the window onto the ledge. Did he want you to climb? Would this be worth it??

You crawled out of the window frame, thankful that your manor's roofs were easy to climb. Most of them had stairs, and there were odd bricks you could stand on for a bit. You hoped they wouldn't renovate it anytime soon.

Frosty led you up to the highest roof, also a good spot for stargazing. You had to give it to him, being so familiar with the house. You sat down but did not wait for longer than a minute. A black gloved hand grasped the ledge, and up came Wriothesley, panting and sweating as if he had a nightmare. His expression only relaxed when it landed on you.

"My Y/N...".

You stood up and waited for him to be next to you, so he wouldn't fall off. Before he could hug you, your hand finally gathered enough force to do what you thought of for hours.

SLAP!

He fell on the bricks, holding his cheek. He looked up to you in the same pitiful, sad way Frosty looked at you. The pup pined at the sight, akin to a child seeing its parents fight.

"Y/N, please...".

You wanted to scream at him. Ask for the bitch's name, whether he liked her tits or face more, what did she have that you didn't, and how dare he prove your family's stance correct. You wanted to ask him whether he even wanted to marry you. If he didn't want to anymore, to just back off and let you go on your rampage and soil your dress with blood. Take his vision and freeze him with his own powers. Whether he saw you as a young, naive maiden and whether that made you a more fun conquest.

Instead, you turned your back to him. You sobbed as quietly as you could. And that was more scalding to Wriothesley than any of the aforementioned violent actions.

"Y/N, I need...".

He stopped and let out a guttural cry you'd only hear in emergency wards. He was hunched over again. You looked back. Was he acting, just like Archandelle?

"I need you to talk to me, my love..."

"Why are you acting as if you were in pain? I'm the one who's being fucked over.".

"Y/N, what's happening? Who hurt... hurt you? Who d-do you need me to kill?".

He had this pained look all along your interaction. He couldn't have known that you were angry at him; You didn't write to him about it, nor have you seen each other.

"What do you mean?".

"Someone hurt you. Badly. Tell me who it is. Talk to me. Give me a name to end.".

You crouched down and noticed that he was clutching the right side of his chest. His fingers were red and something was lodged in the glove. You snatched his hand to take it out. It was a pill you knew too well. You had more than a few acquaintances - all older men - who took it as the last pillar to stay alive.

Heart medicine.

"Did you get addicted to medicine while I wasn't looking?! Why are your fingers red? WHY AREN'T YOU TELLING ME ANYTHING?!? What's happening to you??".

"You... still don't know? About the bracelet?".

You looked at the wolf crest bracelet he gave you. His marking, right in front of your parents. You reached the point where you always wore it on your person, even if not on your wrist.

"What about that?".

"Flip the wolf over...".

You flipped the emblem to find the upside-down wolf, its eye glaring carmine red. Wriothesley turned the emblem on his heart, the usual blue glow replaced by that same hue.

"What the- What is that?"

"Did you forget? Maybe that's why you're in this state. Among...".

He stopped to take deep breaths as if trying to alleviate his pain. His hair was dishevelled and he was soaked in sweat. His eyes were quivered down on his matted head Even his clothes looked rumpled, and his tie done in haste. Wriothesley was always the one who sent other people to the state he was currently in. Now, something was horribly wrong.

Despite your wishes, your own heart hurt looking at him. As he breathed, you wiped the sweat off his forehead. He stopped you at the third swipe, taking your hand and kissing it.

"Among my first vows to you, I said that your pain would be mine, and my heart was yours.".

Among your false and true memories, the ones he mentioned sprung out. Your emblems' glow reduced by a little, although this sickly shade of red was on his face, both within his flesh and the glow.

"I don't understand, Wriothesley.".

"The bracelet. It transmits your pain to my heart. Sometimes I feel it a bit, but I assume that it's because of... Of your current life. And I say: 'It's okay. I'll bust her out of there soon.'. But tonight... It's like you exploded. Something way more horrible than usual has happened. Someone, maybe. I want you to talk to me. I told you before, as husband and wife, we need to communicate habitually.".

"Wriothesley, why your heart? What if you got a heart attack? What if you died? What about me and you?!".

You couldn't help the fresh wave of tears. Gosh, you hated how sentimental you were. You wanted to hate him, but how could you when he bowed to you, his own heart failing because of your state and still making it a priority to hold and kiss your hand? He linked his heart to you, for Focalors' sake! By official guidelines, this is harmful magic, 'not to be used under any circumstance' for a good reason.

"I told you, my heart is yours. Ever since my eyes landed on you, it always has been, just as your pain is mine. And if someday, you're so upset to the point where I risk death, then I would have deserved it for being a bad spouse.".

You threw your arms around him, your eyes hurting from how much you've cried. He did not hesitate in holding you back. If you concentrated, you could feel his heartbeat, regularizing but still way too fast. You didn't want to imagine what a mess it was before he came here.

"Y/N, do you want to regulate my heartbeat? That is your choice.".

"You fucking idiot! Of c-course I do!".

"Talk to me.".

You let go of him, trying to settle down so you could talk. His ears perked up the slightest bit to listen to you, the first time in this interaction. This was good.

"...D-do you love me? Enough to want to marry me?".

Up to the sky the same ears shot, along with his eyebrows.

"What? I do, more than anything I've ever desired! Did someone make you doubt that? Who is it?".

"Wrio... Why is this taking so long? I'm getting married soon. This will be much harder once that happens. I don't want it to happen. Oh, Wriothesley, today sucked, I even got in a fight with Agatha...".

Once you mentioned her name, a barrage of your last month and beyond started. You didn't stop after recounting the fight; There were the times your parents scolded you for having a curl out of place when Archandelle was coming over. Your brother trying to console you with your 'marriage'. Staying at home for days at a time. Memorizing every nook and cranny of the manor. Having to live like a thief, from hiding your love to your late-night tea. How you feared returning to the same state you were in, years right until you met him.

One good thing happened with this. The more you talked, the dimmer the red glow became.

"... Wriothesley, I feel like any woman with some noble connection is cursed. My mother married a man she didn't love. Agatha's husband abused her and she had to pay a lot to get divorced. My grandmother even loathed her husband, but everyone married her off because he'd 'discipline' her. And I have to follow this tradition of unhappy women, but I don't want to. It feels like I have no one to talk to. I feel alone. I hate it...".

You stopped and took a breath, wondering where all this revelation was coming from. You never opened up to Agatha with this much detail and intensity. This must have been waiting for years to get out. Why did your mind pick him, of all people? Was it because you just so happened to be messy at that moment?

Wriothesley held your hand again. His eyes did not fully dry from a few tears that threatened to come out at some point in your talk.

"Wrio, are you okay? Do you want a cup of tea? Did I talk too much? I'm sorry...".

"No, don't apologize Y/N. For once, my heart feels better because you let it out. Archons, I'm so proud of you for talking...".

"No one else would have been.".

"Well, everyone else is a cruel idiot. Everyone else told you to bottle it up, but you still went against them and told me everything.".

"If I am honest with you, can you be honest with me about a few things?".

For the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled. A small, sincere smile that took even more weight off of you. To you, there was nothing more beautiful, because nothing invoked as many happy memories as that curl of the lips. It was like that darned chocolate cupcake that you both reached your coming-of-age social. Part of you teasingly reminded you of your favorite new pastry, which hasn't changed since your first meeting.

"Without a doubt.".

"Is there another woman you love?".

The smile broke and he looked offended.

"So long as a woman is not named 'Y/N Balthazar', and becomes 'Y/N, Duchess of Meropide', then I couldn't care less about her.".

You tried to repress the blush; It was still too early for this.

"Is there nothing in me that you don't like? Anything that would repel you away from me?".

"In the Fontainian foster system, your father, Archandelle, Teyvat and the world, yes. Lots. In you, no.".

Your legs felt sore, so you lied down. He followed suit, by your side.

"Speaking of Archandelle, is anything happening to him or am I doomed?".

"You will not be doomed under my watch. I'm going to answer this question but first...".

He got up, steadier on his legs than he was. He cocked his head to the side, ushering you to follow him. Once you guys reached the topmost ledge of the roof (your favorite, because it loomed over the City), he handed you an item so familiar and loved, yet unseen for a long time: A wind glider.

"I was thinking of something fun to do, and your manor has some great altitude...".

"I haven't used one in ages! I forgot!".

He chuckled: "You've used it before, that's enough to know. Just trust the skies, my dear.".

He grabbed his own and jumped off, but did not fall. The wings deployed immediately, and his limbs relaxed once they spread out. His first landing spot was easy to reach. It was a lower part of your roof.

"Here! This should be a good start. Now jump!".

Sounding more panicked than you liked to admit (and risking your time), you yelled: "You didn't explain anything!! How did you get the wings? How do you- Why are you laughing at me?!".

He didn't want to make you feel insecure, but he couldn't help his laughter. You were like an adorable, helpless child, relying on him to give you the answers.

"You just have to jump, Y/N! Why would I try to get you to break an arm, huh? Just trust me on this!".

You worked hard to recount the few times you got to use a wind glider. What a horrible time becoming a pre-teen was; You were barred of so many wonderful activities, all for the sake of spending your next years securing a husband. What joy did that bring you? No, the real happiness was when you kicked your feet off the high point, spread your arms out, and floated. You were above the manor's walls, the parlor, the court's and Fontaine. It was like being a part of Teyvat itself. It was freeing.

After these long, monochrome years, your body flew again. Your heart with Wriothesley and your form into the sky, softly landing in front of him, on your feet. He smiled widely, his full and societally hated canines on show. Here was a man at least twice your size, smiling like a school boy before he knew of misery.

"You're great at this! Once we marry, you should consider competing in gliding. You'd definitely win a few medals!".

"Hey, you're the one who encouraged me. Let's pick a lower spot.".

And there was another, and another until you were far from your house's roof. It's okay, you were coming back anyway. You always came back, but he was your only betting chip for the opposite. You either had to put your hope on him, or have none at all.

During your last flight, you deactivated your wings and let yourself fall. You knew you could, you knew you wouldn't die. He caught you in his arms, carrying you by the waist.

"Hey... What was that for, my love?".

"I just wanted to skip to this part.".

Tired, you both lay down, with him encircling his arms around you. He put his head on top of your chest. His heartbeat grew slow and regular - He was safe. You were safe. While it was true that safety was but a wisp in your world, you had to cling to it while it lasted. It was the only way you'd pave a life where you could scratch his fluffy ears as slowly as you pleased, grateful to your younger self who took this risk and leave everything she knew behind.

"I didn't tell you about tomorrow yet.".

The wind gliding made you forget! You looked down at his icy eyes and heard him out.

"They're squeezing a confession out of him. I know, because I made sure 'his' cops wouldn't be at the investigation. From there on, it's free ground for him to go to prison.".

"He still has to be tried, though, no?".

"Yes, but it will only be a question of a lifetime sentence with fellow prisoners or in isolation. I feel like I don't have to ask if you're ready for the Pandora's box it will open...".

He tightened his hold. You knew what box he meant: Noble crime is pretty interconnected. It's common for nobles to see out their own class when committing something that a commoner could not get away with. Archandelle's trial and arrest would also mean that many others; lives would be ruined... Including your own father. It was amazing how they knew each other for such little time, and yet they already had several illegal connections.

"You're right. You don't have to ask. I'm looking forward to that trial.".

"So am I, Y/N. I'll be sure to kiss you in front of them after they're convicted. Maybe slobber up and show them too.".

"Eeeeewwww!".

The idea of a (publicly) slobbering Wriothesley was so uncharacteristic, but so funny.

"It's so I can spit on them! Do you think I should add more tongue for the extra scandal?".

"Honestly, just holding hands would be enough for that!".

"But I'm going all the way!".

"You're such a-!!".

What he was, you couldn't think of. Even your laughter quieted at the sight right under your chin: A fondly smiling Wriothesley, with growingly beet-red cheeks and twitching ears. You often theorized that despite him physically being a grown man with an impressive size, there was a boy who just sought out his own happiness, including that with the ones he loves. Just like you.

He leaned his head to give your jaw a long kiss, before whispering in your ear: "You are worth losing everything I've ever desired.".

"Eh?".

"Though I've remained faithful to my goal, I feel like I haven't been taking the right approach.".

He cozied up against your chest again.

"What do you mean, Wrio?".

"Well... When I first declared that I wanted you, I tried asking your father. Do you remember that?".

"How could I forget?".

"And while it's true that I was digging up dirt on Archandelle, I still tried to go the tried-and-true way. Discover some horrible crime, snitch to the Court, sue and let them punish him...".

"Yes?".

You weren't sure where he was going. You looked down to see him gazing at the moon.

"Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I should have just showed up to this door and gutted his fetid body. Maybe I should have killed him during the parties.".

Deep down, you knew you wouldn't have an issue with that. In fact, you might even cheer. Why didn't he do it from the start, then? You felt like you had the partial answer in your hand, scratching it just the way he enjoyed.

He chuckled: "You really like my ears, huh?".

"Speaking of which... Is that partly why you didn't start with the violent approach? Because people are already shitty enough to lycanthropes?".

"Smart. I still remember my shock when you told me you liked lycanthrope authors. It was the first time anyone considered my kin to be something good. But there's another reason. A bigger one.".

You couldn't help but jolt up. Bigger than life-ailing discrimination? As a hybrid and noble man, Wriothesley was already a one-in-a-million case, so it would make sense that he'd want to avoid keeping stereotypes.

He broke his gaze from the moon into yours. Maybe that was part of the reason why he loved you so obsessively: Because there was no getting used to your beauty, your voice, your mannerisms, your smarts and your tenderness towards him. He never liked surprises; Routine was a good way to regulate himself and stay on the down low. Surprise was never a pleasant thing for him from his foster parents to the Beret society. But you? You always caught him off guard in some way, possibly without meaning it. You held gleeful surprise and pleasure and the joys he was constantly told about in the orphanage, but never found until he found you.

The shining look of your (eye color) orbs made him take the vow: He was never going to be passive when it came to you again.

"When I first met you, I had no way of knowing whether you would be okay with that drastic measure. Whether... You were just like me. Whether you, too, spent your life seeking out empty promises. Had you been like most people, jumping to violence would be a sure-fire way for you to hate me. Oh, how could I live being hated by you, Y/N? After everything I've been through, it would definitely break me.".

"Wriothesley...".

"The night we met, I played it passively in hopes of not scaring you away, and keeping my own status. Yes, I still get judged, but it's nowhere near as bad as what I've had before. I thought I would be better off not risking what I gained, and acting normal to you. But when I got to know you more, and when I'm risking losing you... I realized what a mistake that was. I don't like what Agatha did tonight, but she was right on one account. I should have snatched you to myself from our first roof exchange.".

He breathed, as if he's been itching to say this all along. When you first laid down, your head was above his. Now he loomed over you again, as well as his body, in a position that you could associate with a soft bed and your first night post-marriage.

Once he dipped down and kissed you, it was your turn to have an irregular heartbeat.

The world felt most beautiful when you two closed the distance between your bodies. They were like two pieces of a puzzle: Molded for each other. His hand slowly ran beyond your knee and on your thigh, the other behind your back. Your arms had to stretch to go around his wide shoulders, but it also you feel safe; He would protect you from anything, including the imposed fate you feared.

That same hand grew higher, and higher, but stopped right before your inner thigh. He broke apart to ask: "May I? I'll stop whenever you want to.".

You raised your leg, as if trying to get him closer: ".Yes..".

Was it just him, or was that more of a moan than a word? Could you even speak in this state? And why did you have to rile him up like this?

He kissed you again, his hand squeezing at the soft meat, then running over your hip. It's not that you were as sheltered as your parents would have liked, but this was your first time being touched like this. It was as if he was awakening nerves you didn't know existed. You didn't feel this sensitive when masturbating.

Getting tired of your thigh, he laced his fingers between your hip and your panties, before sliding them off. Even from there, he picked up on where most of the heat was coming from, and it wasn't your dress' fancy fabric.

He raised himself to lift your skirt up. There was your slit, coated in its own lubrication, and your legs shaking ever so slightly. He hadn't even started and you were already mewling and getting excited, your body already anticipating the orgasm. He couldn't help cooing.

"I can't wait until I make you cum."

You whined, tired of him making you wait, then wrapped an arm around him.

He ran his fingers up and down your vulva, coating them with your juices, before circling around your clit. The sensation made you squeal out. You heard it had thousands of nerves, but what was that?! It was not a cold night, but your entire body was shaking as if you were freezing.

"Ssshhh... We have to be discreet. Do you like this, sweetheart?".

"More... More, please!".

He was not expecting this vocality, but he wasn't complaining. He dipped down to leave little kisses on your collarbone and neck, while he played with your sensitive clitoris. He occasionally gave it a break, running his fingers in circles around your womanhood, flaring up whatever nerves he could find, before rubbing your nub again.

The lovely thing about neck kisses was that you could not avoid his husky-voiced whispers: "I bet he won't make you feel the way I do right now.".

His fingers slipped down to your hole, still circling around it before he would slip in.

"This lovely body and its tremors aren't his, are they?".

"N-no! I swear, they're not!".

He stopped touching you. Don't get him wrong, he loved you, but you were too cute writhing for him to not take advantage of it. He could not wait until he had you all to himself. He might even make you cry from all the pleasure he'd give you. Until then, he had to relish the limited moment he had.

"Sorry, my love, but you haven't convinced me.".

Once frigid and closed, your legs opened up even more: "Wriothesley, please!! You said it, he'll die before he even gets to see me naked, let alone touch me!".

"Oh? So you're trusting that I will take you?".

As he asked, he leaned in close, only a few inches away from kissing you. His hand was creeping back up where you wanted it.

"Yes... I'm yours, I've always been...".

His digits entered your hole. He didn't even have to look for the spot; a few rubs and you had to stop yourself from squealing. You could not stay quiet, not when you've never felt this, not when he was playing with every pleasurable nerve in your body. You were already clenching erratically around him. The more you did, the closer you were...

"Wait! Wait, I-!"

He kissed your neck again: "Let it out, baby.".

You couldn't help it. You screamed. At least you were far from your house, and it was a good type of scream. The type you felt he'd give you every night.

He helped you feel and ride out your entire orgasm, drawing out every bit of pleasure he could, while all you could do was moan out. Once you calmed down, he lowered his eyes to yours again.

"Are you alright?".

"That was amazing...".

"With the way you screamed, I sure hoped so.".

"Shut up.".

He laughed a bit, before kissing you again. This time, it was slower, softer. Tonight was eventful for both of you, after all. At some point, you two broke the kiss but remained in the same position. It was easy to hear his whisper when your foreheads were so close.

"If tomorrow doesn't work, I'll kill him before the ceremony.".

#a wolf and a snake #yandere wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x reader #yandere reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere fontaine x reader #genshin impact smut

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cellard0ors · 2 days

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80’s Hackearney Drabble idea, comin’ in hot!

Snack Time at Hackett’s Quarry

- popsicles or soft serve ice cream maybe?

- maybe something more wholesome, like juicy watermelon slices that inevitably dribble down someone’s chin?

- do the campers and counsellors ever have to do their own baking, and if so, poor young Travis having to put up with various “bun in oven” and “buttered muffin” jokes from the others

Hell yes, sweet treats!

It's the second Saturday in June at Hackett's Summer Camp and apparently it's known as Sweet Saturday. Laura's informed that this is the day all the campers work on making sweet treats to trade with one another.

The treats don't have to be particularly difficult - just fun to put together. Laura's never considered herself much of a cook - hell, before this she wasn't even a very good waitress, aka the person who delivers the food - but luckily she gets the youngest campers.

The idea of using fruit juice to make easy popsicles via ice trays pleases them immensely and even Laura finds herself having fun as she helps the little kids carefully pour their chosen juice into the tray's little cups - sticking toothpicks in their centers.

As the evening rolls in the treats start being swapped and Laura can't help but feel a glow of pride as she sees the tiny popsicles floating around among the cookies, muffins, and slices of cake.

The cake really intrigues her, as it doesn't look like an ordinary cake, which she discovers is the truth when she's presented with a slice by Chris, "Here! Take some icebox cake!"

It's always beyond bizarre when Laura is faced with a young Chris. After all, he was - in many ways - the kick off for her woes in 2021. But now, in 1986, he's young and innocent and eager to please as he forces the small paper plate on her, "C'mon - join T and me. We've got a great spot!"

Laura gamely follows along, seeing Travis resting against a tall, thick tree near the dock. Travis is picking at his food, as if unsatisfied with it when he catches sight of her with his sibling.

His back goes ramrod straight even as he pushes his glasses by the bridge up his nose. He gives her that awkward (annoying) endearing (goofy) smile as he greets her with a quiet, "Uh, hey."

"Hey." Laura returns just as noncommittally even as Chris takes a seat next to Travis and beams, "Brought Laura over to snack with us. Hope that's okay."

Travis shoots Chris a look that Laura recognizes as a secret, brother-based look. While she doesn't have siblings of her own, Laura's been friends with, and seen enough, brothers and sisters shoot one another that look - the inside kind that only they understand, to get that that's what she's seeing.

However, if the look shot his way bothers him, Chris doesn't show it as he digs into his large collection of treats, chocolate melting all over his fingers as he breaks apart a cookie

Laura sits across from the brothers and watches with quiet amusement until Chris asks, "You have a favorite yet, Laura? These cookies from Nancy's group is my favorite so far."

"I haven't tried them yet."

"Oh! You gotta! Here!" Chris offers her half of the cookie he just tore into and she takes it, feeling a slight pang of guilt as she does so.

Jesus, she led the charge to kill this guy in the future and here he's giving her a cookie. Still, she pushes the thought aside and tries to act normal, biting into the treat and trying to enjoy it.

Chris nudges Travis and chuckles, "Don't worry! She has some of your cake too!"

Travis looks at her and Laura feels like she's chewing in the most unattractive way possible so she swallows a big hunk of what's left in her mouth and then coughs, clearing her throat as she holds up the paper plate Chris gave her.

Travis's lips squirm like he's fighting off a smile. Chris has no resistance, smiling widely, "It's our Grandma's recipe! Ma taught us!"

"She did, huh." Laura tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Mrs. Hackett is the last thing she wants to hear about when she's trying to enjoy something sweet.

"Yup! It's got vanilla pudding and graham crackers and whipped cream and-!"

"She doesn't need the ingredient list, bud." Travis grumbles and Chris rolls his eyes, "Whatever. You're just upset they didn't have watermelons this year."

Laura's eyebrows rise, "You like watermelons?"

Every time she learns something new about Travis it's always so... surprising. She can't say why, other than the fact that - as her jailor - he'd seemed so remote and distant. So cold. As if he didn't like anything past being a bastard.

But in this time - when he's young and open - she's slowly uncovered more and more about him and each thing seems more startling than the last.

"You bet he does! Sometimes we have spitting contests with the seeds!"

Travis looks appropriately mortified at this and Laura can't help the genuine laugh that escapes her. Clearly hoping to continue his entertaining streak, Chris rattles on, "You should see him go! His face gets all wet and sloppy and the juice dribbles down his chin from chowing down and he makes all these noises and-!"

"Shut it, doofus!" Travis hisses and he pushes hard at his brother's shoulder. Normally Laura might object, but Chris's innocent descriptions and the way Travis's face started to turn pink hints to something that makes her feel... peculiar.

Like she'd like to see Travis's face wet with the clear juice of the watermelon. His lips shiny...

Laura fans at herself and excuses it as an unexpected spike in the temperature, nevermind that the sun is setting. She takes a bite of the icebox cake and hums in approval. It is pretty good and Chris, over his momentary annoyance with Travis, smiles again, "You like it?!"

"Yeah." She confesses, feeling like it's a dirty secret, "I do."

"Good! He made it!" Chris boasts, pointing to Travis and Laura gets the sudden impression that the younger Hackett is attempting to play as a wingman.

Good lord.

Travis, for his part, just avoids her eyes and shakes his head, "It's nothing. Besides, I had help."

"That's me!" Chris crows, "I was in his group!"

"Yeah, yeah - you did okay, squirt." Travis ruffles his brother's hair and Laura can't help but grin. Much like the desserts they've been consuming, the Hackett brothers are a sweet pair.

So much so that it's a shame for her to know how things end. And how they end bittersweet.

#hackearney #travis x laura #surprise Chris Hackett appearance!

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isbergillustration · 6 months

Text

DOWN

#sketchbook #acrylic painting #painting #colour pencil #eldritch angel #i forget to give them their wings a lot #because there's twelve wings with #when i chose #a decent amount of lineart #couldn't be bothered here as you see #it is late. i just woke up. and i am going to spend an hour or two watching a pretty man do sexy gun violence. good night #illustration #artists on tumblr #my art #this one looks particularly awkward in a way i enjoy #they are mysterious seemingly all powerful transdimentional beings but because they are written by me they also have social anxiety

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daydreamerdrew · 1 year

Text

The Avengers (1963) #16

#ahh ok I love seeing Tony as himself acting on behalf of the Avengers #it’s very cool that Happy in his job as Tony’s chauffeur also drove Avengers at least this one time #it also looks to me like he’s the one serving drinks and not Jarvis?#and I like seeing Tony talking like ‘I have a feeling the Avengers will be very eager to meet you!’#and then he goes into another room to change #but I particularly enjoy seeing Tony talking about how it would be nice if they could also get the Hulk to rejoin the team #but clarifying that they can’t offer him membership because they don’t know where he is #earlier in this issue the team offers Namor membership which I found amusing #because the last time he appeared in this book was when the team was fighting him and the Hulk #so I had been wondering why the Hulk wasn’t also being offered membership #though to be fair that actually might have created an awkward situation for Rick Jones if the Hulk rejoined the team #so it is better this way #marvel #tony stark #happy hogan #pietro maximoff #wanda maximoff #my posts #comic panels

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archonsabyss · 3 months

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╰─..✶. [ Artist, and their Muse ]

❒ pairing: Rafayel x Fem!Reader

❒ genre: smut [nsfw 18+]! fluff! romance

❒ warnings: shy virgin reader! first time sex! softdom rafayel! fingering! vaginal sex! unprotected sex! nudity! teasing! orgasm denial! vague mention of blood!

❒ word count: 4.5k

─❒ authors note: when the words keep flowing you end with a 4k+ fic. anyways, enjoy soft dom rafayel. smut took 10yrs of my life to write. It was so hard and frustrating. Hurt my wrists trying to finish this with the way I'm keeping my phone hah. Enjoy 💜

Amidst the quiet solitude of his art studio, you found yourself unexpectedly forced backwards as Rafayel approached with an unreadable glint in his eyes. You couldn't help but feel flustered and surrender under the look he gave you as he gradually closed the distance, compelling you to place a hand on his chest in an attempt to maintain a level of distance that was not merely enough to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

"You're so close" Your gaze avoids meeting his, and the flames of desire surge as soon as he steps near. The moment felt strangely intimate with your fingers delicately pressing against the cotton material of his shirt and his round beady eyes seeking yours. Rafayel didn't beckon you solely to fetch his favourite dinner, especially when he had a personal chef at his disposal and a perfectly functioning phone to order it himself. The evidence of his little white lie became apparent as he nudged you backward while striding ahead.

"Close?" He queries, seemingly not understanding what you meant and his brows furrowed in contemplation, his gaze dancing over your countenance absorbing every nuance as if seeking inspiration to craft a portrait of your essence. There was a common misconception about Rafayel's passionate character– it wasn't easy to navigate, leading most people to misread his character or feel inundated by his eccentric personality. Meeting up with him as often as you did, led you to such a conclusion. Time with Rafayel was a constant experience in itself, particularly for someone like you who normally shied away and often felt nervous around such bright personalities. You were a stark contrast to his entire existence and at times you left torn between the desire to strangle him and the impulse to pinch his cheeks, yet despite the unfamiliarity of it; his spirited flirting and teasing with seemingly effortless wit, he remained easy-going which rendered any time spent together devoid of awkward tension, and as time passed you came to accept that it was the undeniable allure about him.

"Do you hate me?" His sudden question takes you by surprise, but the genuineness in it absolutely baffles you. There were only a few rare instances when Rafayel's witty persona faded away completely, unveiling a calmer and more serious demeanour beneath. His lips didn't form their usual smile rather they grew more serious, and his shoulders deflated rather than puffed up, contrasting with the usual clingy sassiness of his character. This was one of those nights where he laid himself utterly bare without restraints and it was evident in the way his eyes were solely fixated on you as he anticipated a response.

"Where did that come from?" You wrinkled your nose. "What makes you ask such a ridiculous question, Rafayel?"

"It's not ridiculous!" He exclaims, his boisterous personality momentarily slipping away before he clears his throat. "You hate me"

"Says who?!"

"Says your body language" He refutes, pouting.

"I don't hate you" You vigorously shake your head. What made him think you hated him?

"I'd beg to differ"

For a fleeting moment, your attention shifts from the minimal distance between you as you narrow your eyes scrutinizingly at him. While he always had a flair for the dramatic, this time it felt genuinely serious.

"What are you on about, Rafa"

Sensing the impending embarrassment of his rationale, his ears turn red and he wordlessly grabs your hand from his chest and brings it to his cheek, letting you feel the heat emanating from his skin.

"I don't understand what you mean"

"Rafayel" You swallow, growing flustered under such an intimate act. He attempts to dismiss the way you pronounce his name but he fails as it echoes in his ears with an undeniable submission.

He turns his head, and his lips meet the skin of your palm, planting a gentle kiss. You repeat his name a few times but he refuses to meet your eyes, focusing solely on the way your palm cradles his cheek.

It's when you try to pull away, does he finally meets your gaze with narrowed eyes, remarking, "See, you do hate me." as his grip on your hand remains unyielding.

"You do"

"But I don't" You insist, and Rafayel rolls his eyes in annoyance, "Tell me why you think I hate you?"

He huffs and confesses with a pointed tone, "Every time I try to touch you, you pull back. Clearly, my existence is truly despised if you retreat at every opportunity,"

His sarcastic remark catches you off guard with a problem you never expected. Your heart gets entangled, growing intensely flustered with such a confession.

What if Rafayel knew his advances were rebuffed solely because you were cautious not to misinterpret his intentions or inadvertently lead yourself on?

Lost in your thoughts, you feel your cheeks burning with heat. It takes Rafayel snapping his fingers in front of you to bring you back down to earth.

"What?" He scoffs as you stare at him. "Admitting you hate me? That's your loss, I couldn't care less. There are a thousand other fish in the sea! A million other girls out there in the world who would die to be kissed by me! Who cares if the one girl I want doesn't want me, right? My existence is just a nuisance to you."

Throughout his incessant rambling, the pout on his lips becomes increasingly noticeable and the words he utters do not match the emotions he's experiencing. In reality, his heart is gradually shattering into pieces at your silence, feeling as though he's facing rejection.

Never before in your life have you taken the initiative on your own accord but now it feels necessary. You extend your hand to cup the right side of his face and gently turn it towards you. Your thumb strokes his cheek in circular motions as you strive to maintain eye contact despite the shyness tempting you to look away.

"I don't hate you, Rafayel" You confess earnestly.

"Could have fooled me"

"I'm not lying, you jerk"

"Your wounds hurt me. Then tell me why you avoided me like the plague"

"Why didn't you accept my hand when I opened the car door for you?"

"Why didn't you allow me to rest my chin on your shoulder at the art gallery?"

"Why did you resist when I wanted to show you how to stroke the paintbrush to create a gradient?"

"Why did you avert your head when I attempted to give you a goodbye kiss on the cheek?"

'Why didn't you let me feed you? And recently, why did you try to pull your hand away from my face"

He was giving you a headache. Honest to God his rambling was excessive and you weren't sure if you even got all that but you nodded along.

"I'm not like you Rafayel. Those things... I didn't─"

"Didn't what?" He persists.

"If you rested your chin on my shoulder, the distance would become unbearable. If you taught me to paint, there'd be no reason to linger in your art studio, pretending I'm there to learn. And if you kissed my cheek, who's to say I wouldn't want more? And if you fed me... I might just have to adopt you and fit you in my little fish tank."

"I didn't want to misinterpret things. I'm not as straightforward and upfront with gestures like you are. If I took your hand, I feared I wouldn't want to let go!"

"The fish jokes are getting old. And besides, Cucumber is perfectly content in his tiny bowl, a little overfed but fine nonetheless; I can't believe you'd consider evicting him." He points out, and out of everything you said, that's the only thing he focuses on. You nudge his shoulder harshly in response.

"Maybe you have a point. Maybe I should just get a cat"

Rafayel freezes, head snapping at you. "You wouldn't dare"

You nod, challenging him, and your sudden boldness catches him off guard. "I certainly would."

"See, it's a blatant display of animosity. I'll reclaim ownership of Cucumber."

"You can't do that, Raf." You find yourself suppressing a smile.

"I will."

"No," You frowned, "I love that fish."

"More than me, it seems."

"Can't I love you and Cucumber both?"

"So you love me?" He blinks, his knack for selectively responding to specific remarks astounds you.

"Maybe I should just leave. Your sudden personality shifts are giving me a headache."

"No," He seizes your wrist and presses you against the desk behind you. A tin of paint topples off the edge and spews its contents. While you gaze at the mess Rafayel fixates on you.

"You love me"

You retreat into your shell. "No"

"You just said you love me! If you deny it, I'll think you actually hate me"

"I'm not sure if it's love just yet, but it's something," You admit hastily, not wanting to restart the conversation and contend with his overwhelming persistence.

"Guess I can work with that"

Rafayel is oddly compliant all of a sudden and it makes you suspicious. The entire situation is confusing and feels dubious. It's unclear what's happening between you two, and it almost feels normal like every other conversation you've had, if not for the underlying tension building between your chests and lower halves.

"Rafayel, what are you doing?" You frantically inquire, your heart betraying you as it beats rapidly with every centimetre he closes between you.

Rafayel inclines his face towards you and you turn your head to the side with closed eyes as he hovers beyond the boundaries of personal space. His nose delicately traced the contour of your jaw, forming a constellation from your chin to your earlobe, and you can feel every measured inhale and exhale he makes while your breath is momentarily suspended.

"Rafayel" You mutter his name in protest yet again, not refuting your enjoyment of his actions but sensing the irregular thumping of your heart you fear you might lose consciousness.

"What are you doing"

"Evading your personal space"

"Yeah l─" You inhale sharply, "I can tell, but why?"

Rafayel stops for a second. "Since you don't hate me for the moment, I plan to take advantage of being this close to you"

"H-How many times must I tell you, I didn't hate you"

"Yeah, yeah whatever. I'm not moving" He prattles, rolling his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours. "Do I make you flustered?"

The way you're holding your breath makes it evident, but he wants to hear it directly from your lips so your muster a weak, "Yes"

He nods and smiles with approval. "Now tell me, do you actually want me to move away?"

"No"

Your obedience kindles a thrilling excitement within him, like a flame fueled by your compliance. Each nod and acquiescence adds to the anticipation and it makes his heart beat in rhythm with your submission.

"Can I kiss you?"

A lingering hush punctuated by the rush of blood surging in your ears envelops the space after he requests consent, and you nod your head instinctively, agreeing before your thoughts or words can be articulated. The anticipation hangs thick in the air as you await the slow descent of his lips and your gaze flitted, searching for something in his eyes that bore unwaveringly into yours with a depth that is slowly becoming your undoing.

Pulled in by an imperceptible force, Rafayel bridges the gap and meets your lips in a fervent kiss with a passion you've never encountered before.

When his mouth slots against yours, an intricate play of uncertainty, desire, and experimentation ensues. Time seemed to stand still, suspended in the dance of your entwined souls.

Rafayel's hands tenderly cradle your cheeks, tilting your head back while pressing his body against yours as he angles his head to kiss you with a deeper sense of passion that renders you flustered and breathless when he eventually pulls away.

The birds' melodious chirps seem to celebrate this unexpected blossoming of romance as if their song is a serenade to the newfound connection that has finally come together.

You meet Rafayel's gaze with a timidity he yearns to unravel. He wants to pull you right back into another kiss and lavish you with myriad praises. He wants to take you by the hand and lead you to his room where he can tenderly place you on his bed and express the depth of his desire to love you.

His infatuation lies in the unspoken words that crash upon him like a sudden wave against the shoreline, threatening to erode the restraints he struggled to maintain. The weight of unsaid wishes presses on him and the carefully constructed barriers seem on the verge of slipping away in the face of overwhelming longing.

"Rafayel." Has any human voice ever sounded sweeter? It lures him into a sense of desperation, enchanting him to the point where he feels compelled to kiss you again.

In a matter of seconds, any other words you had to offer to fade into the collision of his lips against yours. Your mouth opens willingly, his warm hands cradling your face once more as the kiss intensifies with his sweet tongue swiftly intertwining with yours.

He has you exactly where he wants. The fact that you can’t help but lean into him is like a triumph for him. The way you willingly succumb to him is something he can't get enough of, and all he craves is to lead you to ecstasy. He wants more, and the moans escaping him make it abundantly clear.

"I want you, Rafayel... So bad" You confess, overcoming shyness.

Rafayel's eyes widen with curiosity, and his lower lip protrudes with a gentle breath as he lets out a whining sigh.

"Finally! And just so you know, there's no going back" He cautions, a warning lingering in his words as he shifts his hands to your hips, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

You're inclined to nod your head, grappling mentally with the weight of your confession. Yet, it doesn't change the undeniable truth that you want this, you want him, and that was all he needed to hear to lead you to the expansive couch positioned near the extensive glass window at the far end of the studio, the closest comfortable spot for what lay ahead.

"Well?" He mused and you reply, "What?"

You were inexperienced and jittery, nerves causing a slight tension in your posture, but Rafayel as always, was there to alleviate any tension just as he's done in the past.

He seats himself on the couch, spreads his legs and rolls his hips for comfort, the bulge in his pants evident and a testament to your plea. There are a few buttons of his shirt undone revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin. He raises but a singular brow wondering why you're still standing idly when his legs have parted specifically for you.

"Come here"

Your feet carry you forward before your mind comprehends, and the next thing you know, Rafayel has you seated atop him. He flinches at the contact of you on his bulge but quickly wipes away any sign of discomfort when he notices your worried expression, thinking you might have hurt him.

"Wait" He suddenly blurts, "Stand up"

"One of these days I'm going to eat you out" He grins, and you struggle to resist the urge to moan.

You do with hesitancy and his fingers loop into your pants and tug you forward. "I'm going to take these off," He says, and you blush hard, feeling a surge of arousal course through your veins.

You observe as he unbuttons the top of your pants with intricate fingers, sliding them down your legs leaving you half-bare. His eyes glint mischievously as he peers up at you through his eyelashes, his face in line with your lower half as he remains seated on the couch.

Rafayel instructs you to turn around, guiding you to perch on his lap and you comply. He encourages you to relax and lean against his chest. His hands then place on your knees and part them enough for the cool air to breeze between your legs. Your panties cling uncomfortably and a wave of heat courses through your body.

"Breathe," He chuckles, sensing the tension in your body as he pulls down your panties, and you gasp as a rush of cold air greets you.

"I've never done this before, Rafayel"

His hands inch closer to your core, "Just breathe, baby" He whispers as his index finger delicately traces the contours of your pussy. "I'll go slow. It'll feel good, promise"

You inhale deeply, finding your inner courage and trusting him entirely. At first, Rafayel entered with just a single finger. You gasp, your body yielding to his touch. His finger explores delicately between your folds ensuring no harm as he starts tracing circles around your sensitive bud.

Your brows pinch in response to his movements, your back arching as your fists look for something to grab.

Rafayel grins, redirecting your hand to the nape of his neck while his fingers tease your clit, and as you grasp onto him for support he presses on your stomach to prevent your back from arching away.

There is no doubt in your fuzzy mind that Rafayel exhibits the same level of concentrated energy and finesse in propelling you to new heights as he does in his artworks. Every movement he makes is precise, mirroring the precision of his painting technique, akin to the deliberate strokes of a paintbrush caressing a canvas.

The interplay of his unpredictable movements and irrational spur of inspiration, coupled with the graceful gestures of his hand, harmonizes and forges an experience transcending the boundaries of conventional perception, leaving you with a sensation unlike any you've encountered before.

"Enjoying yourself?" He feels the need to comment when your nails dig into his neck but you're too fucked to comprehend anything he's saying which makes him chuckle into your ear and picked up his movements. You squirm in his grasp, tension building in your stomach, thighs aching, yet the impending pressure refuses to ease as he pulls back every time you think you might explode.

He will be your undoing, and all it takes is a single finger toying with your heat. You can't take the suspension any longer and shamelessly beg for more, his name leaving your lips desperately. He can't deny you like you've denied him and listens, inserting another finger but this time with less gentleness, employing his thumb to stroke small circles on your clit.

A breathy sigh escaped your lips as his fingertips tentatively yet deliberately traced your slick folds from bottom to top. He kissed your neck, feeling a surge of arousal run to his cock leaking precum beneath you.

He withdraws his fingers, admiring with pride the glistening evidence of your cum coating them while a moan is forcefully drawn from your throat at the sudden emptiness and build-up within your stomach just beginning for release. You exclaim his name as he cleans his fingers with a pop by sucking on them.

In a blurry flip of the moment, Rafayel swiftly scoops you into his arms and pivots you around, settling you onto your back as he gradually lowers himself on top of you. He kisses you hard and takes your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he settles between you. After months of resisting and denying your feelings, this is what it led to.

Rafayel hovers over you, staring down at your face and running his hands over your body. He groaned, the warmth seeping into his groin as he pulsed and ached with the need to be inside of your tight body. He positioned himself at your entrance and observed as your face twisted in pleasure. Then, he murmured soothingly as he drew closer and penetrated you, causing every muscle in your body to tense as you cried out and gripped onto his shoulders, the soles of your feet digging into his back.

"You drive me fucking insane"

He exhales sharply as your thighs tighten around him and your hands slip under his thin shirt. He's unable to bear the barriers between you any longer and kisses you one final time before breaking away to discard his pants and remove his shirt. He does the same with the remainder of your clothes, unbuttoning your shirt haphazardly and tossing it across the room where it sadly lands amidst a dissaray of paint he hasn't cleaned up.

"Rafayel! It hurts" You mutter with a headshake, stifling a sob and he nods, pausing his movements and stroking your cheek. He bends down, planting a tender kiss on your lips, muffling the gentle whimpers you emit. He remains in that position for a while before inquiring, "Does it still hurt?"With shameless selfishness, Rafayel exercised restraint throughout, feeling the tight grip of your pussy squeezing his throbbing cock and it drove him insane.

Fuck─ he wanted to ravish you.

“No─ N-Not really anymore.” You eventually responded with a gulp permitting him to continue. His earlier edging was a prelude to this, as your arousal coated your intimacy forming a natural lubricant. Rafayel proceeded to push deeper into you and your reaction remained most responsive.

Inch by inch, you took him in.

"That feels good" You moaned shamelessly and Rafayel attached his lips to your throat, bringing an otherworldly kind of ecstasy to you. Slowly, he sunk deeper into you. The initial discomfort of being stretched and filled gives way to overwhelming realms of pleasure coursing through your senses.

“It feels so good” You whine as he rolls his hips, biting his lip to contain a semblance of his sanity.

"I've had dreams of this" He admits, loving the way you're so willing to take him in even with the initial discomfort. "Dreams of you. My muse. You were right, after getting a taste I doubt I can ever be without you."

You nod your head weakly and Rafayel slides his hands into yours intertwining your fingers just as he bottoms out in you. "Shh," He quieted you with a gentle whisper, slowly commencing a gentle rhythmic thrust of his hips providing you with a moment to adjust. Yet, impatience took over and you rolled your hips, emitting a moan at the euphoric sensation that left your eyes rolling. Before long, Rafayel has undeniably picked him his pace and his actions are now characterized by a precise execution of snapping his hips against yours, his cock reaching the deepest recesses within you, and as he gains speed his thrusts delve even deeper, and your responses become increasingly animated. Your hands explored every inch of his shoulders, torso, through his hair and down his back. Your lips parted with each heaving breath he drew from your chest, while his lips fervently sucked on your neck.

The delightful singing of your moans, the way your face twisted in pain and pleasure, and when you constantly arched your back and found a rhythm in rolling your hips to meet his, Rafayel could hold himself back no longer and pumped his cock into your walls, infiltrating and memorizing every crevice. Upon seeing your breasts shake with the movement and your mouth agape, he pulled out and thrust right back in with a force that eroded any lingering shreds of dignity.

Still, you had the nerve to bite your lip and smile so seductively at him, saying, “It feels so good.”

Then and there, Rafayel knew that you weren't the demure innocent little fish ensnared in his trap from the start; you were the prey, teasing the hunter with the knowledge that escape was within your grasp, unmarred.

"Taking me all" He chuckles without mirth, a hint of the devil reflecting in the crimson hue within his amethyst eyes. "Such a good girl, aren't you little one"

The faint glint of his fangs becomes apparent when he smiles, tempting you to passionately kiss him at the mere sight.

God, you were so wet, so soaked for him.Rafayel cradled your face in the palm of his right hand, attuned to the clenching of your muscles around him and the loud explicit squelching of his cock driving into you. He sensed the imminent arrival of your climax.

"Cum for me" He demands softly and you can't refuse him, can't refuse the way he holds you as his cock pumps into you. And you cum hard and fast, your body convulsing in response.

Your head droops back listlessly as do your hands, and Rafayel's grin widens as if he's stumbled upon the perfect canvas for his artistry. Words seemingly elude your mind to articulate such an experience. It was transformative, stripping away every vestige of shyness and leaving only exhaustion in its wake. Your release trickles out, enveloping his shaft, propelling him towards his climax. Rafayel thrusts his member deeply into you, and with a groan intertwined with a whine, he climaxes inside you, filling you without mercy to the absolute brim.

"Fuck" He whines, his forehead pressing against yours as his body collapses onto you, ensconced within the comfort of your embrace. Together, you climax and ride out your high as your essence intertwines and spills out between you onto the luxurious upholstery of his couch, a touch of crimson blending with the mix.

Rafayel embraces you tightly, repositioning himself onto his back with you resting on his chest. He gently guides your head to rest above his heartbeat and keeps you securely in that position.“You okay?” He asked, placing a kiss on the side of your head.

"This wasn't how I expected my night to go" You confess sleepily, and Rafayel concurs, but neither of you is complaining.

"You need to pee" He suddenly says, though his motionless form indicates he's as reluctant to move as you are. "And we need to clean up"

"Just─ Just a minute longer, I love being like this" With your words, your head nestles into his chest, leaving Rafayel with no option but to comply. He holds you tightly, savouring the moment, believing it might be the beginning and the end of his resolve.

This night has sealed the deal for him completely. He is no longer an individual entity, and it's been that way for quite some time. Now, he unequivocally belongs to you.

☣ copyright @archonsabyss all rights reserved // do not copy; steal; plagiarize; reword or repost my works to any other platform! No translations!! All credits to original owners of characters/anime/pictures that are not my own!

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace fanfiction #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace smut #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace x fem!reader #love and deepspace x reader #l&ds smut #l&ds x reader #l&ds #love and deep space #rafayel smut #rafayel #rafayel fluff #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you

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bomber-grl · 6 months

Text

Mike Schmidt relationship headcannons !

Pairing(s): Mike Schmidt x Gn!Reader

Note! Has some plot | This is my relationship headcannons for movie Mike, stating this because I just might make video game Michael Afton headcannons aswell in the near future

Very closed off and not looking for a relationship

He had hired you to take care of Abby when he was away and that’s how you two began getting closer.

Not the best conversation starter, however when you gave him the opportunity to speak about the dream theory he starts going on about it.

Then he apologizes and begins feeling a bit unsure and awkward.

It never really advanced from there and he’d almost constantly apologize and reassure that he’d pay you soon, but you never really cared for it.

Really peaked his interest when he realized that Abby had really grown to like you and began inviting you to do things with the both of them.

You, of course accepted and eventually Mike had started developing feelings for you.

Just as you did for him.

He didnt act on them at first.

Primarily Because he doesn’t see himself in a relationship, especially not with someone like you with him.

You were amazing, and he was a sad grown man who had to care for his little sister, and not even in a way he saw proper.

So of course he shuts it down, telling himself it’d be better off that way.

However, some way, somehow you got involved with Freddy’s pizzeria and you not only managed to save him but also Abby.

Then from there it just went uphill.

He got a better job, better pay, and is able to connect with Abby easier.

Not only that but the custody battle has been leaning in his favor.

He had no one to thank but you.

You’d take Abby to school, occasionally cook for them, and you were always reliable.

One fateful evening you and Mike were just hanging out in the living room.

Talking and just watching whatever was on TV.

Then he brought up your relationship, and stated that he’d really like to start one with you, a romantic one, that is.

You of course, said yes, and he was relieved and happy at your reaction.

But then Abby came to mind, what would she think?

You asked him this almost immediately.

But he reassured and said that the final push was actually when Abby hinted/teased her older brother about your potential relationship, then ran off.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and an awkward atmosphere hung in the air but then Mike went to hold you hand and it made it semi better.

The next morning you almost immediately told Abby and she was so happy.

Which really relieved the both of you.

Things had changed, albeit subtly.

And although Mike wasn’t the most physically affectionate, probably due to him being pretty much touched starved and traumatized.

He tried his best to convey his affection towards you with teasing and joking around.

You’d often just enjoy the others company and bond mostly with Abby around.

If you were to ever do something even a little bit flirty around her she’d immediately be grossed out.

Which was funny, and was mentally noted to ever do again in her presence, even if it was just a kid friendly comment.

Your guy’s first kiss was pretty intimate

I mean Mike had never seemed much interested in kissing or doing anything further down the road.

However, after a particularly draining day, and horrible weather outside, Mike had offered you to stay for the night.

Abby was so excited and the three of you played with her just a little bit over her curfew then sent her off to bed.

When you were finally able to be alone, Mike, very awkwardly and a bit bashful, offered for you to sleep in his bed.

You, like the amazing person you were, rejected and said that it was fine and that he should just sleep there.

Not completely understanding that Mike didn’t mean separate, but together.

Once he bashfully explains that all you can do is mutter out an “oh” and go along with it.

Pretty awkward as you both just lay down as stiff as rods in silence.

Then you guys begin talking.

And it’s just you two talking about whatever at like 2 a.m, trying your best to keep it down.

If you decide to be bold and make a move by asking if you could cuddle with him, then he’d hesitantly agree.

Again, not because he hates you, but because he’s an awkward guy.

So once you’re settled in each others arms you start talking about each others traumas and mostly hidden things.

It’s the sleep deprivation getting to you guys.

Well once you’re both finished venting and just being vulnerable you decide to make a move and lean forward, giving him plenty of time to move if it’s not wanted.

But he didn’t, and the clash of your lips followed soon after and how drawed out it was won’t be mentioned by either of you either.

Things not only start changing and he’s side hugging you more (publicly)

Although not really into pda

And be more affectionate (as he can)

I’m sure at one point you get so comfortable with one another that although awkward moments occur, most of them spent together is just you saying cringe stuff and making him regret ever making it out alive of Freddy’s.

From then on, not only do you tease and get a worthwhile reaction but he’s always hugging and giving you cheek kisses in private.

He’s also grown fond of cuddling, just because of how close he gets to be to you.

If you were to ever tell him he’s hot.

He’d get really taken back but then laughs it off and says whatever.

(Saying this because I know those fans of him exist 😭)

Honestly it’s kind of hard for you to tell when he’s being sarcastic or not😔

He’s always making snarky and joking remarks and hard to tell when he’s just being his sassy self.

Honestly home dude is just trying his best and his relationship with you really lightened up his life even more.

Note! Should I make a pt 2 with Mike as your husband?

#gn reader #female reader #male reader #fanfic #fluff #fanfic fluff #fnaf micheal #fnaf mike #fnaf movie #fnaf fanfic #fnaf fandom #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #five nights at freddy's #relationship headcanons #fnaf #sassy man apocalypse

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nymphomatique · 4 months

Note

your nerd miguel fics are so good i didnt even know id like dom!reader this much

imagine slutty!reader getting ready for another party and she's barely wearing anything, pretty tits n ass spilling out of her clothes. she's leaning forward over the vanity to do her make up, and miguel cand help but get distracted from (her) homework, and just looks at her plump ass peeking from under her flimsy skirt. he begs her to let him rub himself on her and with hesitant hands he grips her hips and dryhumps her like a dog in heat

well, yes!

cw: slight dom!fem reader, sub!miguel yall know the vibes, me indulging in fashion for a moment, dry humping, miguel cums in his undies, this one’s a lil sweet i fear, awkward ending soz, edited AND proofread y’all 🙏🏾 (can’t guarantee no mistakes however)

wc: 1.6k

❤︎ a/n: i’m a dirty liar and forgot to upload this yesterday but!! she’s here and she was a labour of love! everyone who survived the great barbie drought of winter 2023-2024 gets a pin and goodie bag at the door. nevertheless, enjoy!! 💋

“hey, four eyes, this dress or should i wear a skirt instead?”

brown eyes you’ve come to know so well, more than you’d like to admit, flit up to meet yours momentarily until they look at the two articles of clothing hanging on hangers between your manicured fingers. in one hand, a mesh cut out dress with a deep plunging neckline, and a khaki mini skirt in the other.

“um, skirt. y-you looked pretty in it when you bought it, so um- you should wear it,” miguel mumbles, a pink tint sweeping its way lightly across his face. you’re feeling particularly sweet on him today. it’s been hard to keep your eyes off him as of recent, his chiseled jaw, thick lips, and who could ever forget the resplendent pools of brown that takes form of his eyes. eyes that make your face heat up, setting your body ablaze and feeling feverish under the slightest of glances.

he’s classically handsome, that much you won’t deny, as much as it kills you.

you silently take his suggestion in heed, quietly stripping in front of him to change into the skirt he suggested, and pulling on a black long sleeved crop to to match. you silently lament on the memory of the day you bought the skirt, how you had dragged miguel by his shirt alongside you that day to the mall to sit and watch you buy clothes at any and every store, designer or department, and shuck your bags into his strapping arms. you had wandered into miu miu, miguel trailing not too far behind you with your bags from blumarine, versace, cavalli and more comfortable in his hands. he sat patiently in the waiting chairs as you picked up an array of shirts and skirts and accessories, until you were ready to try them on. miguel sat and watched as you said no and turned your nose up at nearly everything until you tried on a khaki skirt, sitting so low on your hips the straps of your red thing peeking above the waistband.

you turned and twirled in the mirror, admiring the skirt on yourself until you turned to miguel himself, walking up to him as he’s sat to ask him, “you like it?” and like it he does, a hefty hand trailing up from your thigh to your hip, tapping your your hip softly. “you know i do, baby,” and you giggle at his answer, twirling for him before walking back the dressing room to change, not before biting your lip and beckoning miguel to follow at your heels with a pink painted acrylic nail. and follow he does, because he’s such a good boy.

you feel roused at the memory of your dressing room quickie in the same skirt you’re wearing now. and you’re sure miguel feels the same, and you don’t miss the opportunity to provoke him at any moment.

you bend over, slow but curt, fixing up your makeup in your large vanity while your ass sits out in direct display, the short fabric of the skirt lifting as you bend. your black thong is made visible as you bend and wiggle you hips. you steal small glances in the mirror to where miguel is on your bed, sitting in a sea of linear calculus books, and sure enough the methods of linear are long forgotten to focus on your exposed backside. you giggle and turn your head to look at him, and his lips purse when he realizes he’s been caught. before he can sputter anything out, you stand and turn to him and ask him, “see something you like, dontcha?”

a silent swallow and a nod is miguel’s response, his growing erection answer enough for you.

“beg me for what you want.”

and there’s a brief fleeting moment after the words leave your lips. an unspoken fervour in the air, perhaps a mix of what hasn’t been said and all that’s left to say about the two of you. you feel hot, your gaze burning through miguel’s clothes, burning his skin all the way across the room. you want him, you want him, you want him. and he’s looking back at you, a subdued but still present lust in his eyes. you see the submission, his compliance. yes, mistress.

his knees hit the floor, and then his rough palms follow suit and he’s crawling towards you until he’s not, and his sat like a good little boy in front of you painted feet, and he does what you ask, he begs for your touch, your taste, your mercy.

“please let me touch you, i need it, please please please. can i have it? can i touch you, mommy? i don’t even have to be inside you, j-just your touch and i can- i can cum. please? oh god please-“ miguel babbles, his hulking form looking up at you from the floor. you feel like the wind has been knocked out of your chest. he just needs your touch. you card a hand through his thick wavy locks, gripping at the nape and pulling his head up to look at you.

“just need my touch, hmm?” you look at him and he nods. whimpers. so fucking pathetic. “i’ll let you hump me like you want. my subservient little puppy needs it, huh?” you coo mockingly. a string of yes’s and thank you’s leave miguel’s lips and you get up and turn around, bending over to brace yourself on your vanity.

you’re fully presented for miguel, and there’s an empty beat of stillness between you both, you make eye contact with him in the mirror and quip, “gonna keep me waiting?” and he knows better than that. he’s up on his feet, unbuckling his belt and shucking his jeans down and off him, standing in his boxers, swollen and full with his erection. he moves behind you, placing his hands on either sides of your hips.

“no ma’am.”

you can’t help but pulse in anticipation. you look at him in the mirror and find that he’s looking at you already and you feel yourself heat up. please don’t make me wait anymore, you think. like he’s read your mind, miguel’s covered erection is pressed up against the gusset of your panties, perfectly slot between your ass cheeks.

and experimental hump sends you bouncing forward a little, your breasts jiggling a bit, a soft sigh of satisfaction leaving you. finally. another hump, miguel’s strong hands pulling your hips back towards his crotch and you gasp a bit and the pleasure. another thrust of hips, and again, and again until it becomes a steady rhythm of soft sighs and low groans. and it goes on from a thrust to a trust and grind, and oh! the meat of miguel’s dick rubs up against your clit and you can’t help but moan.

your moans are joined by miguel’s whimpers, his hips rocking so intensely it has you burning up inside so much that you think you might cum from the stimulation. “s-so good baby, fuck,” miguel let’s out and you keen at his praise. you’re so good, you’re his baby. you push and grind your hips up in time with his, feeling yourself begin to soak through your panties and maybe onto miguel’s dark boxers. you can’t hold yourself together anymore, feeling yourself come apart so you drop your head onto your vanity’s surface, hoping to salvage some semblance of your pride.

the thick hands on your hips move to find purchase within your skirt, grabbing fistfuls of the short fabric before pulling your hips back with a staggering strength. you feel your knees buckle a bit, and your head shoots back up with an accompanying moan.

miguel pulls you down while pushing himself up into you and it feels so fucking good. your palms feel clammy and you feels as if you’re still sanding by the grace of god. every nudge of your clit feels as if it’s short circuiting your motor functions temporarily and you feel so overwhelmed to the pleasure, you can do nothing but succumb to it, and the man granting you it.

“m’gonna cum miguel. so good, so fucking good. wish you were inside me so i can feel you. wish you could feel me cum around you. f-feels so good please don’t stop! i’m gonna- oh!” you’re mumbling and babbling incessantly, canting hips and soft whimpers that turn into heavy groans only further pushing you past your limit through this titillating pleasure.

“fuck, gonna come with you baby. come with me, please mommy i need it,” miguel moans. his hands release your skirt and dig into your hips once more and you’re sure you’ll find salacious marks there in the morning but you don’t care, not when you’re so close.

a particular hard thrust sends you reeling forward, head almost hitting your mirror and you can’t help but give out within your legs. you feel them shake and almost go numb at the pleasure. you’re left helpless, cumming violently and soaking the fabric separating both you and miguel as miguel continues his assault against your poor pussy. he fucks it- humps it?- raw, overstimulating you to the point of pain when finally he finishes with a final thrust, his nails digging into the meat of your curvature. you feel his cum seep through the material of both of your arguments and you moan as it hits the gusset of your thong.

miguel lets go of your hip and you wobble a bit, using your upper body upon your desk to stabilize you. you’re both panting and heaving, taking in the intense and carnal display of lust between the two of you. you’re quiet before you hear miguel pipe up, breathlessly, pulling you from your daze.

“thank you, mistress.”

smug bastard.

#sub miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel atsv #miguel o’hara smut #miguel atsv smut #atsv miguel smut #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #you’ve got mail💌#<nerd!miguel3

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kinq-sleazee · 1 year

Text

this is more of a prolonged thought than a cohesive fic but I hope you enjoy

baby daddy deku?

18+ MDNI

god … imagine it being some random hook up ? a friend of mina’s that showed up at one of her pool parties.

and you looked so pretty in that sundress— all soft and smooth. thin fabric nestled perfectly against your curves. and fuck when he watched you pull it off, revealing the tiniest little bikini… he knew it was a wrap.

deku fucked you hard that afternoon. mina’s bathroom— butt naked with the lights on.

he had you bent over the counter with one hand covering your mouth and the other gripping your wrists behind your back. thick cock pounded your poor cunny that was already swollen and puffy from his extremely thorough prep.

deku was so whiny in your pussy. begging you to ‘take that dick, please’ and praising you for “squeezin’ (him) so perfect”.

each thrust was like having the wind knocked out of your lungs. it felt like he was nestled in your rib cage. all you could do is scream and cream on his cock while he wrecked you.

and that was that.

he filled your little pussy then licked you clean . a particularly nasty kiss was exchange fill with cum , spit and your own arousal.

the two of you exchanged numbers but of course he didn’t call. you didn’t expect him too. he’s a busy guy. a rising pro hero with a growing agency. you had no intention of making this situation more than what it was, that is until you realized your period was late.

now you had no intention of telling him. you didn’t want to tell anyone. you locked yourself in your apartment to embarrassed to venture. you probably would’ve gave birth in there had it not been for mina beating your door down to make sure that you were still alive.

she scolded you for trying to do this alone. reassuring that she would be there for you regardless. encouraging you to be brave in your new journey. and getting really excited to be an aunt.

she even helped tell deku when you were ready— which was about the beginning of the second trimester. she marched the two of you right past his secretary and into his office.

he was a bit startled at the sudden intrusion.

“ashido— oh”

seeing you was a surprise. he wanted to contact you after the … fling but time got away from him. if he wasn’t doing hero work , he was making appearances. if he wasn’t making appearances, he was sleeping. surely, you wouldn’t hold it against him ?

but then he noticed you cradling your stomach that looked slightly rounder than the last time he saw you.

his brain short circuited but only for a second. after a few deep breaths and a sip of water then he’s at your feet profusely apologizing and promising to be there every step of the way in some way shape or form.

deku makes good on that promise. he will never let you go to an appointment alone. if he can’t be there personally he’ll enlist the help of mina, and kacchan on occasion. the appointments with bakugo are always pretty fun because he tried to censor his speech for the baby.

“i don’t need that daaarn nerd on my case if his brat comes out cursing !”

deku gets so excited and invested in this baby that it’s bleeding in every aspect of his life. literally lost it when he found out that he’d be having a baby girl. he has to catch himself during interviews to keep himself from spilling too much tea about the “brand new girl” in his life.

things are great with you too ! it was easy for him to develop a friendship with you. heck you’re the mother of his child and you’ve already touched privates so is awkward small talk really necessary?

he’s rock solid. a shoulder you can cry on when things get to tough. deku will always be there to help you carry the burden. he spend the majority of the final trimester in your apartment helping out wherever he could.

and when the baby finally came— ahh! cue the water works. between him and his mother, they nearly had to evacuate the maternity ward for fear of flooding. he couldn’t help it. every time he looked at that little bundle he couldn’t help but be in awe and then he’d look at you and feel even more love because you’re the one that gave it to him.

six month in your baby girl is sitting up and babbling. rolling in her crib wearing an all might onesie and dynamight booties. she’s your twin— save for the curly green space buns and sparkling emerald eyes. easily the cutest baby in the world.

deku just wants to hold her all day. all of his spare time is spent with her. he’s barely even using his apartment at this point only going once a week to get more clothes. most of the time he’ll crash out on the floor next to the baby’s crib or on the couch with her on his tummy.

he’s just so comfortable here. a little too comfortable some might suggest.

he can’t help but bristle at the inquiries about your relationship. eye twitching when kaminari jokes about you being back on the market.

he has no reason to be upset. you’re a beautiful woman and of course there’s the potential for interested suitors but it just doesn’t sit right with him. it nags on him all day. well past the end of his shift. well past when his daughter has fallen asleep. well past when you’ve handed him his blanket and said goodnight.

he just can’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach whenever he thinks of you in another man’s arms.

so he goes to your door and allmight help him when he hears soft whimpers of his name.

“izuku~”

“right there, izu”

“s’good. so good”

and if that’s not a sign then he doesn’t know what is.

you’re embarrassed when he opens the door. cheeks hot and ears burning at his lewd gaze. he gives you no time to explain it away— kissing you passionately while tearing off the remainder of his clothes.

he doesn’t fuck you hard like he did the first time. he fucks you slow. painfully slow. he wants to learn your body. he needs to feel you. and there’s no need to rush. the two of you have all the time in the world.

#♛♚|the king speaks #deku smut #deku x reader #deku x black!reader #Deku x black reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya x reader #midoriya x black reader #mha midoriya #mha deku #mha izuku #mha smut #Deku x reader smut #mha fluff #deku fluff

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strawbeerossi · 6 months

Text

Sweet Treat

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Penelope gives you aphrodisiac chocolates as a gag gift. Whenever you and Spencer have a movie night, you both don’t realize what sweets you are delving into.

Content/Warnings: Awkward little banter between friends, mutual pining is mentioned, food/eating, aphrodisiacs, unprotected sex

Word Count: 2.4K

Kinktober Day Twenty Three: Aphrodisiacs

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

“Penelope, what the hell is this?” You asked, a laugh leaving your lips as you looked over the container of what looked to be normal chocolate. “Well! I found it online and apparently it’s some of that chocolate that you eat and you just wanna go crazy on the first person you see.” She giggled.

A girls night meant all sorts of things but whenever Penelope pulled out presents, you knew exactly where this was going. You and the girls had met up at her place about an hour ago. After ordering Chinese takeout and having way too much wine, the night had taken a bit of a turn when it came to discussions. Women talk. Sex was a main topic between you and your small friend group.

“So you are giving them to me?! P, I don’t even have a boyfriend.” You laughed. “Who needs a boyfriend whenever you can have fun with anyone in the world. Just keep them.”

And so you did. It was days after the fact whenever you were inviting Spencer over for a marathon of your favorite show. It was going to be fun, you and your best friend from the office watching your favorite show together. He’d offered to pick up food on the way, which he’d stuck with a good Thai place that you both had eaten at numerous times before whenever you got back from a particularly late case.

Spencer was your best friend on the team, the both of you being closer in age compared to the rest of the crew you worked with. Plus you had similar interests when it came to books, movies, among other things. You’d greeted him with a wide smile the minute the door opened. “Hey!” You grinned while moving to hug him. Despite his disdain for hugs or being touched, he’d slowly began to let you in more. He was happy to hug you or have you hold his hand whenever you needed to pull him somewhere else in a crowded room without losing him.

He enjoyed being by your side. Honestly, he was sure he was in love with you because of how caring you were. You listened to his rambles and even asked him further questions. You even laughed at the jokes that were complicated to understand. You were truly a light shining bright on the team. “I hope you have snacks because I didn’t even stop.” Spencer groaned after returning the hug with one arm as his foot kicked the front door shut. “I do. I have a lot in the kitchen.” You assured.

You'd started the new season of your show together and gotten through dinner within a few episodes before Spencer disappeared into the kitchen as you paused the program on tv. “Don’t take too long! I gotta see how this plays out!” You called while leaning back against the couch, pulling the blanket over your body while letting out a soft hum. Spencer had ended up grabbing some chocolate. Which he didn’t read over the label as he grabbed a tab from the container and looked it over. “That’s cute. It’s got little shapes.” He chuckled to himself, breaking one in half as he was moving to take a bite from the rich milk chocolate. It was to die for, so he had to take the other half to you so you could try before you both tore into the bag together.

“Try this. It’s so rich. I actually love it.” He’d commented. You weren’t paying attention to what the chocolate looked like, bringing it up to your nose and smelling it before you were pulling the piece in your mouth. Which it was delicious, your eyebrows raising. “Wow, that really is good.” You laughed, watching as Spencer was sitting down and passing over snacks to you. “We can eat the chocolate later. You know sweet stuff can either send me flying on the walls or I end up feeling bad to do anything.” Fair enough.

It was an hour later when you were on another episode, your body was feeling hot as you shifted uncomfortably on the couch. You wouldn’t like to think that you were attracted to the program, it was a horror series and you were in the middle of a chase scene. So why else were you squirming?

Just as you were going to excuse yourself to take care of the heat in your belly, you noticed Spencer shifting uncomfortably, a pillow resting over his lap. Then you thought about the chocolate, your eyes widening as you were shooting up from the couch and rushing to the kitchen. Spencer watched you, turning slightly on the couch to watch you curiously through the doorway. That’s when you see the box, a soft groan leaving your lips as you lifted up the sex candy while bringing a hand up to rest against your face. ‘

Just great. You knew you should’ve just put it in your room.

“Spencer.” The sound of your voice had him nearly jumping out of his skin as he quickly faced the tv again. “Yeah?” He asked as his hand clutched the pillow harder. Maybe you’d caught him. Even someone who wasn’t a profiler could tell there was something going on, not to mention the growing tension between the both of you.

Mutual pining was normal and you both weren’t exempt from that. Spencer was an awkward rambler but you found it endearing. Just as he found you as equally as endearing even if you were quiet a good majority of the time and relished in his ramblings about whatever was brought up. You both enjoyed each other's presence, the two of you spending time together more often than not.

Those unsaid mutual feelings made this whole situation worse.

You approached the couch again as you slowly sat down beside Spencer again, body leaning back against the couch as you could feel yourself hot, face flushed as you couldn’t sit still to save your life. Spencer had now taken notice, clearing his throat. “I-I uh.. I may need to leave soon. M-mom’s facility called.” A lie but it would be a smooth getaway.

“Oh, yeah. Uh, it might be for the best! I forgot that I have to..” Your eyes glanced around the room. “Reorganize my bookshelf!” Less subtle. “R-right. Uh, This seems weird but can you close your eyes for a minute? I just..” His eyes were glued on the pillow, making you bring your eyes down as well. “O-oh.”

“It’s not because of the show!” He squeaked, face bright red as he was looking back at the screen. “I don’t- I don’t know why but I was looking at you and it just.. I don’t know!” He whined. His awkwardness made it hard for him to admit why there was a pillow on his lap outright, however you had clocked the reasons why.

“You know the chocolate..? Uh, Penelope gave me them the other day as a joke and they are.. They are essentially just sex chocolate.” Your face was hot, chest rising and falling as you were feeling the gush of slick in your panties from the heightened arousal. “Wait. Aphrodisiacs?!” Spencer was looking at you with wide eyes, mouth agape in shock. Well, at least he didn’t feel as bad from getting hard after giving you a few glances. There was a reason behind it.

The both of you stared at one another, faces hot and eyes blown out with lust. “So uh.. How long does this last?” Spencer finally asked, his brain being too clouded over with lust as he stared in your direction. “I-I wouldn’t know.. I never used them.” Your nose crinkled as the both of you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from one another. “I, uh, I lied about my reason to leave.” He stated the obvious while you couldn’t help but let a little laugh escape your lips. “I know..” You admitted, slowly pushing yourself to stand. “I um.. I don’t actually have to reorganize my bookshelf either..” You laughed awkwardly while heading over to stand in front of your best friend, hand moving to gently rest over the pillow. “I don’t want you to go.. Not yet. Can you, um, help me out a little bit? I trust you and you are here.” You rambled on as you put your hands together slowly. Spencer was looking at you with wide eyes as he nodded slowly.

“I’ll help.” You were both a bit awkward at first, the male letting you move the pillow before you were straddling his waist, the show in the background continuing to run as your best friend was blushing nervously. “I gotta admit that I’ve only done this one time before..” He spoke while you offered a smile. “It’s alright.” You whispered as you let your head dip down to connect your lips with his. Your bodies were buzzing with electricity as you were deepening the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair while his hands were gripping your hips.

You never thought you’d be in this position, tongue in your closest friend’s mouth while your hips were grinding down against his. You felt a fire inside of you, your body desperate to be bare and touched. As you pulled out of the kiss much to Spencer’s dismay, you were tugging your shirt over your head before tossing it somewhere else in the room. The sight of your breasts in a white bra had Spencer’s Adams apple bobbing as his eyes were trained on the lace that accentuated your skin. “It’s pretty right? One of my favorites.” You comment while watching his eyes stare at your tits with a new sense of hunger in his eyes.

You took it as a great sign as your hand was reaching behind you, unclasping the top before letting it fall somewhere with your shirt. His hands were quickly coming up to cup your breasts before he was just diving right in, wet kisses being pressed against your skin before his lips were wrapping around your nipple, tongue flicking over the nub as your fingers tangled in his hair. “Fuck.” You cursed while his attention was focused on your chest.

Your body was perfect.

As he had gotten enough though, he was pulling back to examine your chest that was covered in a few hickies and your hardened nipples. “You look so pretty.” It wasn’t akin to being called a whore or a slut but you honestly liked it. The way he complimented your body had your cheeks heating up as you were lifting your hips when he had gained enough confidence to work on your pants. He’d tugged down your pants and panties before working on his own pants.

“Eager?” You commented, a little giggle leaving your lips as Spencer looked at you as if you’d grown another head. “Have you seen yourself?! Of course I’m eager!” He defended himself, causing the both of you to share a laugh. “I hate to rush this but-” He was cut off by a groan as your hand reached between you both to give his leaking cock a few tugs. “I know, me too. You can make up for the lack of foreplay later.” You wiggled your eyebrows as you pressed your lips against his once more, your leaking hole sinking down onto his cock.

The both of you had let out moans muffled in one another’s mouths as your hips rocked slowly, getting adjusted to the man’s thick cock. It was always the awkward nerds who had the best surprises.

Your head was falling on his shoulder as he held your hips with a bruising grip. He wasn’t one to have sex often, not being lucky like Derek in the department of women effortlessly throwing themselves at him. He knew that this scenario was one he never imagined happening, your velvety walls clenching tightly around this bare cock while you essentially used him as a human dildo to get yourself off.

He wasn’t complaining in the slightest, watching your face contort in ecstasy as his hips were thrusting upwards to slam into your leaking cunt, a groan falling from his lips as his head tilted back against the sofa. You were whining and moaning with each thrust that he matched with your movements, eventually pushing the one place you needed most. The impact had your hands clutching tightly to his shoulders as you let your mouth fall open with a soft cry.

“Oh my god, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Your words were slurred, the effects of the aphrodisiacs heightening all of your arousal so you felt like you were going to burst at the seams. Your body was hot, hips surely bruised by Spencer’s rough grip as he slammed into you as well as your legs shaking from their position.

When you did hit your peak, you were tightly grabbing Spencer’s shoulders as your hips slammed down into his lap, ass hitting his thighs at an unsteady rhythm. Spencer however, was quickly flipping you both over, your body sprawled out against your living room couch as he was rolling on top of you.

Taking the opportunity, he wasn’t skipping a beat as his hips slammed into yours, your sensitive cunt contracting around his cock as he was bringing himself to climax. As your moans and whines from overstimulation echoed in the apartment, his own whines of desperation were falling from his lips.

His cock twitched inside of your used pussy, quickly making the effort to pull out of you as he jerked at his leaking cock, a low huff leaving his lips as ropes of cum were now pooling in your stomach, glazing your bare skin as he let out a weak whine. As you lay there covered in his spent, your chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace as you made the effort to catch your breath.

“I think that chocolate needs to be thrown away to avoid incidents like this again,” his voice pulled you out of your post sex haze as you laughed a little. “Are you kidding? I think we need to do this every time we watch our show together.” You teased, making Spencer shake his head with a smile.

“At least hide it for when you have anyone else over. I don’t think I’ll survive if this mix up happens with someone else.”

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srvbryn · 3 months

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Luke Castellan. hands

Luke Castellan X Ares!daughter!reader

Summary: you've always like Luke Castellan, but his hands - gods. You love his hands the most

Warning: hands fetish, some suggestive jokes

A/n: I got inspo by this one Sebastian Sallow fic but made it PG-13 😰😰

By some miracle, Luke hadn’t noticed your unwavering eye contact with his hands yet.

The two of you had been kept preoccupied with taking care of the cabin and as a result, your only opportunities to spend time with him had been during sparring time.

Clarisse, one of your half siblings, was having none of it—clearly smarter than you gave her credit for. "You're always checking out Castellan, but it's gotten worse since we returned. Did he grow a second cock or something?"

"Clarisse! You can't just say that about him', you hissed, your face flushed beetroot red, another indication that you're staring at him, specifically his hands.

"well what got your knickers twisted since the past few days sister?" She snickered. You sighed. "Have you ever found other body parts attractive? Like-"

Clarisse gasps, "Are you attracted to his feet? You are telling me you were horny because of his feet?"

You abruptly denied her, flustered. "w-what? No, I'm talking about his veiny hands."

You nervously explained to Clarisse, "It's not his feet, it's his veiny hands. There's just something about them."

She raised an eyebrow, "Veiny hands? That's your thing?"

You nodded, feeling awkward but determined. "Yeah, they're... attractive."

Clarisse smirked, "Well, good luck with your hand fetish. Just make sure you don't drool in public."

As you continued your routine at the Ares cabin, you found yourself stealing glances at Luke's hands whenever you could. One evening, while sparring, he noticed your prolonged stares.

Luke chuckled, "What's got you so interested in my hands, (Name)?"

You blushed, stumbling over your words, "I, uh, just... noticed they're, um, nice. I mean, good for sparring."

He raised an eyebrow, smirking, "Oh, you like a guy with skilled hands, huh?"

And since that day, it became a running joke among your half siblings. Luke even started teasing you about his "magic hands." Despite the embarrassment, you found yourself enjoying the exchanges.

One day, as you and Luke were alone in the cabin, he looked at you curiously. "Seriously, what's the deal with my hands?"

You took a deep breath, confessing, "I just find them... attractive. It's weird, I know."

Unexpectedly, Luke grinned, "Well, (Name), I never thought I'd have someone crushing on my hands, but I'm flattered."

Your cheeks burned, but you both laughed it off. Your crush on Luke's hands had become a well-known joke.

During a particularly heated sparring session, Luke couldn't help but notice your lingering gazes at his hands.

With a sly grin, he remarked, "Enjoying the view, (Name)? My hands are pretty skilled, aren't they?"

You bit your lip, feeling a rush of embarrassment. "I...uh, they're just, you know, interesting to watch during training."

Luke chuckled, "Interesting, huh? Well, if you're into skilled hands, maybe you'd like a closer look."

Your heart raced as he extended his hand, teasingly offering it to you. Clarisse, shouted from the sidelines, "Go on, (Name), give those magical hands a touch!"

Blushing furiously, you hesitated for a moment before tentatively taking his hand. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, and Luke's playful expression turned into a more knowing smirk.

Luke would purposely use his hands more during training, making sure you had a front-row seat to the display. The other campers caught on, and your crush became the subject of good-natured teasing.

You and Luke sat by the lake, he leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know, (Name), there are other ways to appreciate skilled hands."

You shot him a questioning look. Luke's fingers traced patterns on your palm, sending a delightful shiver through you. "Just a thought," he whispered, his voice low and suggestive.

From that point on, your interactions with Luke took on a subtly flirtatious undertone. Whether it was a lingering touch during training or a shared secret glance.

The chemistry between you two intensified. Clarisse, sensing the change, simply rolled her eyes, muttering, "Finally catching on, huh?"

The flirtatious tension between you and Luke continued to escalate, turning each training session into a delicate dance of suggestive glances and teasing touches.

Clarisse and Annabeth (for some reason the both of them work together to tease you and Luke everyday), who had initially been the instigator of the whole affair, now simply smirked knowingly as the two of you exchanged moments.

Luke were sparring under the shade of the trees, he shot you a wicked grin. "You know, (Name), my hands aren't just good for holding weapons. They have other talents too."

You raised an eyebrow, playing along, "Oh really? And what talents might those be?"

He leaned in, the playful glint in his eyes never fading. "Oh, they're full of surprises. Want me to show you?"

Clarisse, observing from a distance, couldn't resist shouting, "Careful, (Name), you might not be able to handle the Castellan hand magic!"

That night, as you found yourselves alone in the Ares cabin, Luke leaned against the wall, his eyes locking onto yours. "So, (Name), any specific requests for my hands tonight?"

You pretended to think for a moment, then with a mischievous glint, replied, "Maybe a demonstration of their massage skills?"

He stepped closer, his proximity sending a thrill through you. "Well, if you insist."

#luke pjo #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy spoilers #charlie bushnell #pjo spoilers #pjo tv show #pjo series #percy jackson and the olympians #percy series #pjo #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue #annabeth chase #annabeth pjo

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mydemimonde · 4 months

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'Cherry Bomb' | Michael Gavey x Reader (Part 1)

a/n: this will have two parts, most likely! english is not my first language and i have no idea how oxford university works lol i just googled some things, also i suck at maths so any explanation here is just me googling shit. no beta reader. hope you enjoy!

Summary: You wake up with a pounding headache, the worst hangover you ever had. You don't even remember how you managed to get to your dorm, until you see a small note on your bedside table, signed by... Michael Gavey.

Words: 4490

Warnings: +18 (minors do not interact!), female reader, no use of y/n, not specific physical description, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, fingering, loss of virginity, masturbation (and more to come in the second part)

You wake up on a Saturday morning with a pounding headache, your mascara all smudged under your eyes. The sunlight coming from the blinds makes you squint your eyes. You bring a hand to your forehead, sighing. This was the worst hangover you had in a while.

The sound of the door opening and a sudden gasp make you groan and close your eyes shut.

“Oh, here you are!” a particularly high-pitched voice says, making your headache even worse.

“Fuck, Leigh” your voice comes out as croaky and hoarse. “Lower your voice” you ask as she mutters a ‘sorry’ and closes the door carefully. You manage to sit, your back resting against the headboard as Leigh approaches you.

“Next time, be sure to drink water as well. Too many tequilas and shots do this to you” it’s like she’s scolding you, which is fair because she’s two years older than you, she’s like your sister sometimes.

You rub your eyes, smearing more mascara and making you look like a raccoon. On the corner of your eye you notice a glass full of water and some aspirins. You frown.

“How did you get that so fast?” It’s Leigh’s turn to look at you completely puzzled. You point to the glass next to you.

“Uhm, it wasn’t me” she chuckles as you take some aspirins in your hand and drown them with water. Your brows lift in surprise and confusion, your eyes glancing towards a small note next to your lamp. You grab it and read the message in a rushed handwriting.

“What the fuck was Michael Gavey doing in my dorm?” you nearly scream with wide eyes as Leigh takes the note from your hands to read it. She throws her head back and cackles.

“Michael Gavey brought you here last night. You don’t remember?” she looks at your dumbfounded expression trying not to laugh again. “Jeez, you were so drunk you don’t even remember what happened…” she mutters and sits cross-legged in front of you. “Last night at the pub, we were chatting with Felix and his group and you wanted to go to the loo, so you left but on your way you bumped into Bradley and Sam” she wiggles her brows and you scoff.

You dated Bradley during half the second term, then you dated his friend Sam for a brief period of two weeks. You found them too boring, so you rejected any other advance on their part ever since.

“Anyways, I couldn’t see much but I think something nasty happened, because on the other side of the pub was Michael fucking Gavey looking at you. Babe, he was fuming” her lips curve into a devilish smile. “He strode towards you and grabbed your arm, telling them to fuck off. Which they surprisingly did, which is odd because, well… you know… he’s a scrawny awkward nerd and Bradley and Sam are pretty much tall like beasts” she shakes her head while you’re still confused, trying so hard to remember what happened.

“Why the hell would he even approach me? He hates me” your brows lift and she places a manicured hand on your knee.

“Hmm, maybe they were annoying you. It seems Michael’s your knight in shining armour. I think it was hot, wet my panties a little bit not gonna lie” she sighs and fans her face with her hand, pretending to melt.

Now it is your turn to cackle. “You’ve always said you pictured him like one of those guys who compulsively jerks off to hentai every night in the dark of his room.” You look at her with a knowing look, pouting your lips.

Leigh shrugs. “Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I like nerds like Michael Gavey now. He looked really good with that shirt” she narrows her eyes and twirls her hair, making you laugh again. She grins and looks at you. “You should talk to him. Ask him what happened, and then you might want to thank him…” she wiggles her eyebrows and you roll your eyes, she slaps your shoulder in response. “You know you want to! I mean, I’ve seen the way you look at him sometimes, and a guy like him will never resist a bomb like you. Who knows, maybe he’s jerking off to the thought of you…”

“Leigh!” you slap her leg and she jumps. You shake your head. “Babe, she hates me. I know it. I’m pretty sure he’s part of that group of guys that slut-shames me in the hallways” Leigh presses her lips, knowing you might be right. Might.

Still, you want to know what really happened last night, so you sigh and get out of bed, Leigh following your movements in the dimly lit dorm. “I’ll take a shower and think about how to talk to him, ask him what happened” your friend gets on her stomach on your bed, her feet up and her chin resting on her palm as you grab your towel, feeling the headache go away, but your empty stomach grumbled.

“Mind if I take a nap here? Kev fucked my brains out last night and I don’t feel like going to my dorm” she sounded quite tired, and you hum in response. She groans as she gets into the covers and you enter the small bathroom, closing the door slowly and undressing to get into the warm shower, letting the water fall all over your body. You close your eyes enjoying the feeling, and you start wondering how to talk to Michael.

You never saw him anywhere else rather than in the great hall of college, as he spent most of the time in the library. Besides, you know deep in your gut he hates you. Every time you walk into the library, he leaves, avoiding looking at you.

One time, you tried to talk to him. It was the beginning of the academic year, you were dating a history student named David, and you saw Michael all alone during lunch, too focused on his books and his crunchies. Feeling bad for him, you grabbed your purse and walked towards him, a smile across your face.

“Hi there” you introduce yourself, extending your hand. He looks up from his book, looking at you with a frown, sneering. He looks at your hand and then back at you. Awkwardly, you move that hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing your lips. “What’s your name?”

“Michael Gavey” he says sharply, clearly annoyed. You stand there, feeling heat creeping on your cheeks as he turns his attention to his book. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out so you leave, returning to your friends.

That was the first and last time you tried to talk to him, but he refused. You didn’t know why, but you assumed it was because of your reputation there. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying your sexuality, and it’s definitely not your fault that most of the guys are horny douchebags who aren’t capable of being in a serious relationship. Plus, they’re too shallow for you, and you get bored easily. You don’t want them to get too attached.

But Michael’s different. He avoids interacting with people when he can, he doesn’t do parties -maybe you saw him once or twice at Felix’s-, he’s very vocal about what he thinks about popular people: he hates them. Vapid cunts, you heard him mutter once. And that’s why you feel attracted to him.

He’s nothing like Bradley, Sam or David. Or Luke. Or Peter. Or even Felix.

You finish showering and drying off your hair, Leigh sleeping soundly on your bed. You are careful not to make any loud noise as you try to dress. You put on a lace tank top and a pair of jeans, your favourite flats and the note he left on your bedside table and head out to the library, hoping to find him.

Bingo. You see Michael sitting on the other side of the library, fully immersed in his studies. Your flats make the slightest of noises against the floor, you feel your heartbeat get faster as you approach him. You pull the chair in front of him and take a seat, leaning over as you smile and say hi. Michael looks up and nearly chokes at the sight of your tits nearly spilling from your top.

“H-hi” he simply responds in a low voice. He clears his throat and frowns. “Why are you here?”

Ouch. Rude. “I was looking for you.”

“You were?” Silly old me?

“Yes, dummy. I woke up with the worst hangover of my life, and I found this on my bedside table.” You hand him the small note he left. Drink these with water. Hope you feel better. Michael Gavey. He presses his lips and nods, acknowledging the note he wrote.

“You were pretty hammered” he chuckles and you smile, showing your perfect teeth.

“I was. I can’t remember a thing, Michael. Would you help me to fill in the blanks?” you ask sweetly and bat your lashes at him, making him squirm. Michael Gavey squirms.

“Sure, uhm…” he puts the book aside, scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat once again. “You were heading towards the toilet at the pub and I heard you laugh when you bumped into those assholes” he sneers, remembering the events from last night. “The blonde one landed a hand on your ass and you tried to pull him away. You were clearly uncomfortable so just told them to fuck off” he shrugs.

Your heart flutters, he sounds so honest and worried about you. You extend your hand to place it on top of his, and he meets your eyes. “Thank you.”

He nods, looking at your hands. He slithers them away, making you frown. “No worries. Next time though, try not to throw up on my sneakers” your eyes widen in surprise and embarrassment.

“Oh fuck, did I do that?” He nods trying to hide a smirk. You cover your face with your hands, mortified. “Shit, I’m so sorry!” You move your hands away from your flushed face when you hear him chuckle.

“You had too many drinks, you could barely stand on your feet” he reassures you, his sudden kindness taking you by surprise. “I left you in your dorm and just when I was about to leave, you said you felt like throwing up, but you didn’t make it to the toilet and threw up on my sneakers. I washed the stain off the floor and helped you get off your shoes to lie down. I see you took the aspirins I left there.”

“I did, thank you again.” You don’t know how to thank him properly, so you start thinking. You take a moment to study his features. The glasses he wears frame his face and hide his blue eyes. His aquiline nose —oh God, his aquiline nose—, the pronounced cupid bow of his lips, his sharp jaw. You feel the need to run your fingers through his tousled blonde hair. You press your legs together. “How can I thank you?”

“No, it’s ok. No worries” he makes a gesture with his hands and sighs. “Uhm, I really need to study, so…” he trails off, subtly telling you to leave. You blink and nod, standing up.

“Sure, ok, I’ll leave you to it…” you accommodate the chair back and wave at him. “See you around?” He just nods and opens his book again. As you leave, a great idea crosses your mind, but before you open your mouth a pack of students enter the library. You curse internally and leave.

9:15 AM.

You fix your hair in the mirror, brushing it before going to the calculus lecture. You’re not studying anything related to maths actually, you’re a psychology student and according to the university program you can take a course to complement your studies, so you chose that one.

As you walk down the corridors, you see Michael carrying his notebook and entering the classroom. Your lips curve into a smile and speed up the pace to catch up.

“Michael!” You call him as you finally reach him. You swear you hear him mutter something under his breath, and you follow him as more students fill the room. He smiles at you with pressed lips, greeting you back.

“I didn’t know you were taking calculus” he sounds genuinely surprised. You decide to take a seat next to him, placing your bag on the floor as he opens his notebook and clicks his pen, everything ready to take notes.

“Yeah, I have to take an optional course to complement my studies” you lean down, giving him a clear view of your cleavage as you reach for your notebook and pencil case. You hear him gulp.

“How… dedicated” he replies, to which you smile, taking the end of your pencil in between your teeth.

Michael looks away, his eyes focusing on the board as the professor greets everyone and starts writing.

Half an hour later the lecture comes to an end. You sigh in relief, your brain has melted from all the numbers and formulas the professor explained. Honestly, you paid more attention to Michael’s large hands and long fingers gripping his pen as he took notes, thinking about how they would feel on your body.

You watch as he stands up quickly, nodding at you as a way to say goodbye. “See ya”

“Michael, wait!” You quickly put your notebook into your bag and rush after him. “Shall we study together? We can do the assignment due by next week together” you offer him your signature smile, tilting your head and thinking he wouldn’t say no. Most guys melted when you smiled at them like that.

However, your confidence vanishes when he grimaces and scratches his neck. “Actually, I… I don’t study in groups. Doesn’t work for me”.

Why are you surprised, it is obvious. You always see him alone in the libraries. You curse yourself internally. “Oh, well…”

“I’m sure you will do great though, you seem like a clever girl” the praise coming from his lips make you silently gasp.

“Yeah, you’re right…” Just as he’s about to leave, an idea pops in your head. “Actually, Michael… I’m struggling with this subject.”

Lies. You aren’t a genius like he is, but you can manage. You don’t like maths but you don’t suck at it either, you do good. Enough to pass the subject.

“I was wondering if you could help me” you do your best to sound helpless, knitting your brows and all. “Everyone says you’re a fucking genius, please, Mike?” He swallows hard at the way you practically beg him for help, placing a hand on his elbow.

He doubts only for a few seconds before agreeing. “Ok. I will help you” he yelps as you wrap your arms around him, your tits flash against his chest making him dizzy.

“Oh, thank you Michael!” you pull back, teeth biting down on your lower lip as you smile. “Can we start today? I would tell you to come to my dorm, but my friend Leigh is currently staying there because they found a rat clogging her toilet.” Another big lie.

Michael just nods, he doesn’t really have too many options. “Fine. Uhm, my dorm is on the second floor, 219. I’ll be there at 4pm, bring your notes and a calculator.”

You playfully salute him, like a good soldier. “Yes, Sir” he chuckles softly and shakes his head, turning on his heels to leave.

You can barely contain your joy as you walk towards your dorm, almost singing.

3:40 PM.

You try on different outfits, grunting when you look at yourself in the mirror for the fifth time. You don’t like any fit, and you continue rummaging through the pile of clothes on your bed. You lift your brow as a red fabric catches your attention. It’s the mini skirt Leigh gave you a few weeks ago. You quickly put it on and look at yourself in the mirror once again, happy with the result. Your white baby tee with ‘cherry bomb’ in red letters written on it makes the perfect match.

You grab your notebook and head towards his dorm.

“Coming” you hear Michael’s voice behind the door. He will surely be coming today. He opens the door, breath hitching at the sight of you in that top, your nipples peeking through the fabric. Suddenly he feels his pants are too tight. “Please, come in” he gives you enough space to enter his dorm, which you do. As you walk past him the smell of your perfume fills his nostrils. Fuck.

You smile at him and as he closes the door behind you, you look around the room. It was just what you expected. Everything was perfectly neat, books organised in two bookshelves, more textbooks and notes scattered over the white desk.

“Take a seat over there” he points at the bed, and you gladly do it. “Do you want something to drink? Eat? I have some crunchies.”

“No, thanks, I’m fine.” You flash him a sweet smile as you open your bag, looking for your notes and your pen.

Michael sits next to you, keeping a safe distance of course, but close enough you can hear his hard breathing. “Ok, we can start with the basics, and then I’ll help you with the exercises, sounds good?” When you nod, he continues. “Cool. So, think of limits as a way to understand what happens to a function as it gets closer and closer to a certain point without actually reaching it.”

“That sounds paradoxical” you cut him off, and he suppresses a smile.

“It does seem counterintuitive, but it's about observing the behaviour of a function as it gets infinitely close to a specific value.” He continues explaining, and you pay attention to every word that comes out from those beautiful lips.

Michael’s brows lift in surprise as you finish another task quickly, and he’s even more surprised when he checks it and there are no mistakes. He didn’t find any mistakes in the previous 5 exercises he provided for you either. You just look up at him, waiting for his correction.

He looks back at you. “You did perfectly well. Again.” You squeak and he takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t get it. Most students get the first ten exercises horribly wrong, but you solved all of them perfectly. H-how?”

You lean back on your arms, legs crossed. You tilt your head. “Maybe I’m just a quick study, learning from the best” you start moving your feet up his leg, slowly and carefully. He shakes his head as he puts on his glasses again, sighing.

“No. You’re just wasting my time.”

“What?” It’s actually the truth. You are wasting his time, you weren’t having any issues with the subject, you just wanted an excuse. “Ok, yes, I admit it” you lift your hands in defeat, and he curses.

“Why the fuck would you ask for my help if you don’t need it? Fuck, I have many important things to do and you’re here bothering me, leave please.”

You get on your feet quickly as he’s about to turn the doorknob, and you stop him. “No, Michael, please hear me out.” He glares at you, nostrils flaring as you take his wrist and guide him towards his bed, making him sit on the edge. He looks confused, you sit next to him, your knees touching.

“Look, I just wanted to thank you for what you did the other day. For being my knight in shining armour.” He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off by placing your index finger there. “No, listen. I know it’s not a big deal for you, but it is for me. Michael, I want you.”

Michael’s eyes widen at your confession. “W-what?”

There’s no way you wanted him. You, out of all the people on the campus. Slowly, you lean in, wetting your lips with your tongue to press them against his mouth. You give him a soft peck before truly kissing him, your hands finding their way towards his tense shoulders. He doesn’t respond yet, but when you bite gently on his lower lip he whimpers, he fucking whimpers, and moves his lips against yours, trying to follow your rhythm. Your lips taste like cherries, and he loves it.

Kissing him feels good. You tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss, feeling how he squirmed under your touch and kisses. You wonder how he would react when you have his cock in your mouth.

You slither your tongue inside his mouth, exploring it as he gets more excited, his hands finally touching you, placed on either side of your waist.

You pull back to catch your breath and he chases your lips. You giggle. “Easy there, lover boy. We have plenty of time.”

“Fuck, I- I… I’ve never done this” you frown, and he sighs. “I’ve never kissed anyone. Ever. That felt really good” he chuckles, and you smile.

“You liked it?” He just nods, and you start placing open mouthed kisses across his jaw, down his neck until you reach his ear and whisper. “Wait until I put my mouth on your cock.”

Michael gulps. “W-what?”

“You think I came here just because I wanted to kiss you? No, Michael” his eyes follow your movements, how you rise from his bed to kneel in front of him, hands undoing his jeans, looking for any sign of discomfort. When you find none, you continue, pulling down his jeans and boxers down to his knees, freeing his cock. “I came here because I really, really want this” you purr and lower your gaze to his weeping length, your cunt clenching around nothing already.

Michael’s big. At least, bigger than the ones you had. Curved upward with a protruding vein on the side. You bite your lip as you start stroking him, Michael closes his eyes shut and whimpers. You never heard someone whimper so beautifully. You study every reaction, every microexpression as you continue stroking him at a tantalising pace, as if you are torturing him.

“P-please…” he begs through bated breath, moving his hips as he tries to get some friction, anything.

“You look so beautiful begging, Michael. You’re making me so wet, baby” he cries out your name again, and you smirk. “Michael, open your eyes” you demand, and he does so, breath catching in his throat as he finds you there on your knees, looking at him like you were his predator. It was so fucking sexy.

“I want you to watch as I suck your cock. And you better last more than five minutes. I want you to enjoy it” he nods and swallows hard as you lick your lips before taking him into your mouth.

“Oh fuck” he curses, gripping the sheets beneath him until his knuckles are white. You lick the vein, going from the base upwards, and you hear him sigh. You lick him like you lick a lollipop, and then you take him into your mouth again, hollowing your cheeks as your right hand works its way around the base. He’s so big he doesn’t fit completely into your mouth.

You hum around his cock, your eyes closing as you bob your head up and down his shaft, making Michael squirm. He doesn’t know what to do, he just keeps looking at you, unable to tear his gaze from you.

The soft moans that escape his lips, the way he whimpers your name and bucks his hips ever so slightly, careful not to hurt you but eager to get more are enough to make you wet. Hell, you are sure your panties are soaked by now, leaking through the fabric.

His eyes widen as he catches the movement of your left hand that was on his inner thigh going in between your legs, under the skirt. Were you touching yourself?

You bob your head faster and moan around his cock as you tease your wet folds with your fingers. You push two fingers inside your pussy, the room filling with the most obscene sounds you ever heard.

“Are you… are you touching y-yourself?” asks Michael in a strangled moan, watching you intently. You release his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, your saliva coating it.

“Of course I am, Michael. I’m fucking wet. Here” you take off your fingers from your pussy to grab his hand, and guide it towards your entrance.

Michael almost passes out. You are, in fact, dripping wet on his fingers. You let him touch you for a moment, grinding your hips against his hand, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit so deliciously. “S-shit, Michael” you bite your lip and he grins, happy to earn that reaction from you. You feel him twitch in your hand, the tell tale sign that he was very close to cumming. You remove your hands from your cunt and he frowns.

“Did-did I hurt you?”

“No, baby. But tonight’s about you, ok? I can teach you how to eat my pussy later, yeah? Right now, I want you to cum in my mouth. Whenever you’re ready” you wink at him and he chokes on a sob as you take him into your mouth again, slowly until you feel him in the back of your throat. Some tears well up in your eyes, you moan around his cock and that pushes him.

He bucks his hips and shoots his load deep down your throat, you look at him through your lashes and see how hard he grips the sheets, his chest heaving as he moans your name. He stays still for a while, panting as you swallow his salty cum, wiping the corner of your mouth with your hand.

“Holy fuck” he mutters, still trying to catch his breath. You get on your feet and plant a kiss on his lips, letting him taste himself on your tongue. “Now… shall I… well, uhm” he’s unsure about what to ask.

“Eat my pussy?” you finish for him and he nods eagerly, you giggle. “Another day, baby.”

“But you… you were touching yourself and didn’t get to cum, right? I have to return the favour—”

“No, Michael. Don’t worry” you reassure him with a kind smile, stroking his cheek. You lean in to kiss him again, and then, you whisper in his ear: “I’ll just finger myself until I cum in my bedroom to the thought of you.”

You smirk as he looks at you with his jaw dropped. You blow him a kiss, open the door and leave.

let me know what you think! and if you'd like to be tagged as well 🫶🏻

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x you #michael gavey fic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn #saltburn movie #ewanverse #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell smut #ewan mitchell fic #mydemimondewrites

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targaryen-dynasty · 9 months

Text

COMFORT.

Daemon Targaryen x valyrian!Reader

You understand the Rogue Prince like no other, and so it's your task to put his mind at ease again when he stumbles into the brothel.

WORDS: 1.5 K

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; DUB-CON, ass eating, handjob, balls worship, size kink, squint and you'll miss the breeding kink, valyrian!Reader (has pale skin, silver hair), bastard Valyrian/High Valyrian

NOTES: I KNOW I said I’d leave for some while, and I’m not really active on here besides setting up a queue but I just couldn‘t let go of the thoughts of some good ol‘ ass eating with our uncle-daddy. This work is not meant for educational purposes, but please wash yourself before doing sth like this.

It was a lacklustre affair.

Daemon had been thrusting and thrusting for quite some time with little effort or enthusiasm, arousing nothing but awkwardness and deep desire for it to be over.

Perhaps it was your faked moans of pleasure or perhaps the disheveled state he was in when he stormed into Chataya’s, nevertheless, he was disgruntled as he pulled out of you, clearly frustrated by his poor performance.

As he sat down on the sill, quilt wrapped around his hanging shoulders, you were quickly reminded that the usually confident, self-assured and strong Rogue Prince that didn’t much care what anybody thought of him actually very much cared, and was nothing more than a tender man who was wracked with doubt.

Getting on your feet, you prowled toward him, standing between his parted legs. You cupped his face with one hand, forcing him to look up at you.

“It is possible the Queen will give birth to yet another girl,” you tried to cheer him up, grabbing both his large hands and caressing them with your thumbs. Alas, the attempt did not bear fruit, the dragon in front of you merely scoffing. It seemed there were a few more layers you had to peel off tonight to figure out what truly plagued him, though you suspected something–or someone–particularly to bother his mind.

You squeezed his hands before pulling him onto his feet, despite him seeming rather reluctant. “Allow me to put your mind at ease, my Prince,” you hummed, and guided him back toward the bed.

When he lay down on his back, you tsked, “va ao iemny.” On your stomach. It was your Lysene origin that granted you the ability to speak a version of bastard Valyrian, and was one of the main reasons the Prince had chosen you a few moons ago. That, and your pale skin and silver hair.

His lilac eyes widened ever so slightly at your bold command, but he complied. The bed barely dipped beneath your knees as crawled between his parted legs. You sat back on your haunches and trailed your ring clad fingers over his sides, starting at the top. A few of the scars were traced by your fingertips, and you relished in the way he shivered under the gentle and teasing touch.

Keeping a close eye on him allowed you to spot the way his upper body moved in sync with his heavy breathing. What surprised you the most was that he held his eyes closed, visibly enjoying your ministrations despite them being barely there.

“Bisa iksis daor mirre,” you said, the smirk on your lips reflecting in your tone, “iksan daor gaomagon.” This isn’t all. I am not done.

Reaching for one of the more firmer pillows, you grabbed his hip to raise it a bit before shoving it underneath his lower stomach, angling his hips and giving you the best possible access to his rear and cock. Daemon was open-minded and had ample experience up his sleeve, and it wasn't the first time you paid attention to anything other than his cock.

You bowed forward, your lips finding the sensitive spot in the nape of his neck that always had him purring like a cat and bending to your every wish. Lingering there for a few moments with your teeth nibbling on his skin, you eventually licked over the faint mark that followed in your teeth’s wake, before departing down.

While open-mouthed kisses were pressed to his spine, both of your hands began to tease his buttocks. At first, it was only gentle caressing, but as your mouth traveled lower, the bolder your hands got. You squeezed his flesh, and gently parted his buttocks to expose his arsehole to the warm breath you exhaled.

Your eyes flickered up to gauge Daemon’s reaction for a split second before you gathered some saliva and spat it onto his unprepared hole. His muscles tensed slightly with the sudden wetness, but when your index finger circled around the rim, he relaxed just as quick.

A faint hum was audible, coming from the Prince in front of you, and when you pushed the first digit in, it was replaced by a groan.

“Fuck–”

“How does that feel, my Prince?” you purred.

“Good,” he rasped.

That was encouragement enough for you to spit into your other hand, coating his cock in it and using the slickness to tug on it with ease. Being penetrated on both ends had him releasing wanton moans in no time, only increasing in volume as you bowed forward and replaced your finger at his arsehole by your lips and tongue.

If it wasn’t for your mouth and tongue being occupied by sucking and lapping at his hole, you would’ve chuckled as he desperately pushed his hips back against your face. You dragged your tongue over the rim, and kept your blue-lilacish eyes on the Prince beneath, watching carefully what worked best and what not.

One of your hands spread his buttocks, allowing you to keep your lips against his ass as your tongue pushed in. You stilled briefly, but were spurred on when you heared the strained groan he released.

“Sīr sȳz, gaomagon jāre,” he panted, “... kostilus.” Hearing him beg was new, but you couldn’t deny that you found a certain liking in it. So good, keep going. Please.

As you felt his cock twitch in your hand, indicating that he was on the verge of peaking, you released it and instead processed to fondle the sac of his stones, squeezing it.

The whine that escaped his throat as you pulled back to spit into your hand was the epitome of pathetic, and he obviously had your teasing coming. “Skoros massitas naejot se nēdenka dārilaros, mh?” What happened to the fierce Prince, mh?

“Jorrāelagon nyke naejot–” The threat died on his tongue as yours dove back into his arsehole, returning to its task with vigor. Need me to–

Just like his cock, his stones were coated in your saliva, making it easier to fondle and squeeze them. Daemon started to rut his hips, and it was clear what he was doing or rather chasing. With his hard cock rutting against the pillow, your hand fondling his stones and your tongue fucking in and out of his hole, he felt his peak slowly building at the base of his shaft.

If it would’ve been any other patron, you would’ve stopped your ministrations and thought about a punishment to put him back in his place, but it was no normal patron lying in front of you. It was a Prince, and a dragon in flesh at that.

Your tongue and hand were tireless in their motions, determined to push the rogue over the edge, and judging by the way he was writhing and rutting as if his life depended on it, he was close to toppling over.

The strained groan he wanted to release, the one that always came whenever he spent himself, was replaced by a gasp, caught off guard by the way your tongue curled up on its way out, tugging at the rim in a way that drove him insane.

“Seven hells,” he grunted, and was quick to wrap one hand around his twitching member, tugging on it to embrace the approaching release that threatened to undo him.

“I–I’m–” the words cut off as his peak crashed over him. His other hand fisted the covers tight enough for his knuckles to blanch, while his hips and hand worked in tandem with your own and your tongue to coax him through the pleasure.

His orgasm tingled at the spot where his sac met his cock, and it was almost ridiculous how much of his spent squirted out and coated the sheets and the pillow below. It was such a shame it went to waste, because you knew at least one spot of your body where you would’ve preferred it.

You had withdrawn your mouth from his hole not long after the peak subsided, and crawled up and hovered over his tall frame. Collapsing on top of him, he merely scoffed at the added weight, but was quick to hum as your lips pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. A tired smile was adorning his features, and his lilac eyes were closed again, relishing in the bliss he felt.

“How do you feel?” you asked, and though your blueish eyes twinkled with mischief, the genuine concern seeped through your words regardless. Daemon kept on smiling, reaching up to gently cradle your face before he grabbed your body, keeping you steady on top as he turned to lie on his back. His head was propped up on a pillow and yours was resting on his chest, his heartbeat lulling you into calmness.

“Iksi henujagon syt Zaldrīzesdōron isse se ñāqatubis,” he mused. We are leaving for Dragonstone in the morning.

And when you looked at him with utter confusion written all over your face, he elaborated further. “You are foolish if you think I would go into exile without you.”

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another-lost-mc · 7 months

Note

Got any thots/ideas in wing kink for Luci, Simeon, or anyone with wings?

a/n: there's a few different types of wings among the cast, but I think they're all unique and worth talking about!

wing headcanons

featuring: lucifer, mammon, asmodeus, beelzebub, diavolo, simeon, raphael (+ michael and karasu)

0.7k words | nsfw | suggestive

cw: wing kink implied. sexual situations and predator/prey kink mentioned. the predator/prey kink section is after the divider if you prefer not to read that part.

One of the first signs of trust is the casual affection he shows you when his wings are revealed. He might not always reach for your hand in public, especially if he's a bit more reserved by nature. However, what you do feel is the soft sensation of his wing brushing against your side when you walk beside him. He doesn't even mean to do it at first. It's like his wing naturally extends itself to curl around your back or glide against your arm. It's an unconscious gesture motivated by his feelings for you.

He might ask you to help with his wing care next. If he has wings made of feathers, he sits patiently while you preen them. You're especially careful when you straighten the feathers that look stuck out of place. Your hands are coated with a special oil that keeps his wings soft and protected from harsh wind and cool rain. It's a ritual for both of you now, one that often leads to grateful kisses and quickly descends into passionate lovemaking. Preening his wings was something he didn't enjoy doing by himself, or he reluctantly asked others to help him. Now that he has you, he craves the intimacy of it.

Leathery wings don't require the same level of care, but your lover is still grateful when you try to make him feel pampered and cared for. Sometimes stroking the edge of his wings feels ticklish. Sometimes it sends little bolts of desire shooting through his body straight to his cock. You never know whether he's going to laugh and squirm away from your hands, or if he's going to spin around and pin you underneath him.

Beelzebub's wings are thin and extremely sensitive, and he doesn't like it when they're touched. You are a rare exception. He trusts that you won't hurt the delicate wings that sit against his back. It feels nice when you gently run your fingers along the very edges. He rewards your gentleness and understanding with hungry kisses and greedy hands that rid you of all your annoying clothes.

As the crown prince, Diavolo's wings are particularly impressive and adorned with precious gold ornaments. He secretly likes it when you tease him about keeping the gilded gold pieces clean while you polish them to a glimmering shine. For special occasions, he'll even change them to a different metal that suits your preferences better—he wants to look his best for you. Don't be surprised when he offers you gifts of jewelry made with the same precious metals and jewels that match his own. He would love to see you wear them—and only them—the next time he invites you to spend the night.

Most of the time, fucking someone in his true form can be clumsy or awkward. He doesn't just let anyone touch their wings so intimately either. When you're intimate, he might purposefully reveal his wings. His wings wrap around your body and draw you close while he shields you from the world, protecting you when you're naked and vulnerable. (It also hides you from unworthy eyes that don't deserve to see you that way.) Sometimes his wings randomly appear in the height of passion, unfurling at his back when pleasure drives away all thought and reason except the singular desire to touch you. When his mind isn't clouded with lust, he looks a bit bashful that he lost control like that to begin with—it only happens when he's with you.

Another possibility is a little bit of predator/prey roleplay. Have you ever wondered what it would feel like to be hunted? Your winged lover is more than happy to indulge in this kink should you ask. The forests of the Devildom (or the human world) are perfect for this. He leads you there and urges you towards the tree line in front of you. He'll even give you a head start.

(You're going to need it.)

It begins when you finally run into the darkened woods with only glimpses of moonlight to illuminate your path. The smallest sounds are impossibly loud, echoing off the trees around you: a snapping twig, the crunch of fallen leaves under your feet, your own ragged, panted breaths. Sometimes you see movement from the corner of your eye and when you turn around, there's nothing there. What you do notice is the tree branch high above you shaking slightly, as if someone was just there and then launched himself back into the sky.

(He's toying with you.)

Adrenaline gives you one last burst of energy that propels your feet forward, and you keep running despite the burning in your lungs. The blood in your veins is laced with lust and fear in equal measure. It's not long before you finally hear it: the sound of wings slicing through the air and growing louder as he draws near. Do you hear the soft swish of feathers? The taut snap of leathery wings billowing against the wind? Or perhaps it's the bzzzt of wings fluttering rapidly at his back that quickens your pulse? Suddenly, his familiar silhouette looms above you and blocks the moon from view. You're pinned against his chest before you realize what's happening, and his arms (and sometimes wings) curl around your body. Greedy hands start to pull at your clothes as he crushes his lips against yours. The game is over, and you're finally his to claim.