When You Partner Is Like Rhys~

When you partner is like Rhys~

Rhysand’s Kinks Headcannon

Warnings(s): smut obviously, choking, bondage, squirting, edging, exhibitionism, marking, daddy kink

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

-It was no secret that Rhysand was a sex god.

-He loved nothing more than edging you all night long, his fingers drumming against your clit feverishly, then stopping right when you were close. Right when he felt you clench around his fingers, signaling that you were about to let go. He could literally do this all night, but he’s too kind to ever torture you for that long. Give him your signature puppy eyes and he’ll let you cum.

-Even better than the latter, he loves to make you squirt. It’s physical proof that stays on the sheets all night that he truly pressed all the right buttons inside of you. Squirt in his face too, he’ll say “good girl” and let you choke on his dick.

-Exhibitionism. But, only in other courts. He adores having you sit on top of him, legs spread as he toys with your clit through your panties. (think that one scene in acomaf 👀) the shocked gasps and embarrassed looks from the other fae around fills his ego up even more, if that were even possible.

-Daddy kink. I will not accept anything less. This. Man. Is. Daddy. He’ll refer to himself that way, too. Saying things like “Does someone want daddy’s cock tonight?” “Want daddy to make your pretty pussy cum? Hmmm? Be a good girl.” If you call him that in public, good luck…he will take you in an alleyway pressed up against the brick.

-Bondage. Simple. He enjoys tying you up so that you can’t close your legs when he hits that sensitive part of your g-spot, or when he keeps licking your clit languidly even after you came.

-Choking. Nothing too intense, but he does think his large hand looks rather pretty like a necklace around your sensitive neck. He might just have a thing for necks in general, though. He loves kissing and sucking on your neck just as much as when you do it to him. And fuck…do those growls and moans he makes when you do it encourage you.

-Impact play. Again, nothing too intense. In fact, you’re the one who brought it up. You were being a tease, he called you naughty. You replied with “maybe you should punish me then. spank the brat out of me?” You could of swore you saw the feral horny look in his eyes illuminate. He was still hesitant to lay a hand on you like that, but when you moaned in pleasure and soaked your panties after his first little smack, he knew how much of a pain slut you were. Your safe word is wingspan.

-Marking. You belong to him, and he wants everyone to know that. Expect to have dark purple bruises all over your neck, tits, and in between your thighs. You swore that Rhys could make you cum just from sucking on your jugular…

It's too cute!!!

legit listening to "beautiful boy - John Lennon" rn hear me out ghost and his Mreader hubby cuddling with their new baby just wholesome fluffy stuff yknow🤯

When I tell you I cried writing this-- UGH! Thank you so much for this request! It was so sweet.

Adoption was no easy feat, anyone with a right mind would know that. There is a lot of paperwork, a couple of interviews, as well as money that goes into it. It was more difficult with your growing family, you decided bitterly. Most agencies looked at the jobs you and your husband held, you as a freelance writer at home and him as active duty military- well, the active duty military was more of a raised red flag to them. Especially because the two of you were looking for a baby, not a child- an infant.

When the struggle with adoption started, your focus turned less away from your work- which did ultimately have a deadline, to what could be done. In your heart, you felt this emptiness that needed to be filled, and Simon expressed himself the same at home. You sometimes wished that like him, you could separate it while working… but you had too much heart in you. (Those were Simon’s words- and he said that he was glad you were like that)

Tonight was one of those nights that you couldn’t focus on your work. All those creative writing and English classes in college, gone throughout the window. So, you settled on looking through other adoption agencies- maybe even some women who were pregnant that didn’t want the child, but wouldn’t do an abortion. What was the name? Ah, you didn’t care much to remember. The aged whiskey in your hand helped with that too.

As per usual, you spent about three hours looking for something new. A couple emails sent out to some agencies, the last two that would maybe consider interviewing you and Simon. The analog clock next to the TV expresses how late it was, so did the yawn that left your mouth. You decided the whiskey glass could be cleaned in the morning as you set it down on the coffee table, your closed laptop next to it. The front door and its eighteen locks (that’s an exaggeration, it only had four) needed to be turned before you could sleep. Right after you locked the first one though, you heard something through the door- something like… crying?

Now, you and Simon live in a nice neighborhood- with little to no crime activity, but that doesn’t mean something could happen. You retreat from the area for just a moment to grab one of the tactical knives hiding in the coffee table, then walked back to the front door. Very quietly, you undid the lock you’d just turned and very slowly opened the door. Nothing was directly in front of you, so you looked down and your heart shattered.

It’s always in the movies, so the scene in front of you is unexpected in real life. There is a large woven basket with an infant tucked comfortably with a blue blanket. Before you investigate further, you look around your yard and towards the sidewalk but see no one walking about- or running away. So, you bend down and pick up the basket, taking out the little note that’s sticking out as you walk back into the house. Just for a moment, the basket is set on the couch as you read it.

‘To who little Gregory comes to,

I’m sorry I couldn’t take care of him myself. When he was born in the hospital, everyone in the room was happy to see him but me. Gregory is the result of a… you know what case. I looked at him, and I couldn’t see myself at all- only him. I hope that you can find yourself to take care of him. Love him. 

Thank you.’

Oh… “Fuck.” You look down at the baby- who has been crying this whole time, and quickly pick him up from the basket. It’s probably really uncomfortable in there- and oh, how long has it been since Gregory has been fed? Christ on a Cross, when you talked about jumping into parenting, this isn’t what you meant! “Hey, Siri!” You’re trying your best to calm the infant in your arms, who is still crying, but it’s thankfully gone to hiccups now. “Call Simon’s work on speaker.”

“Calling Simon *work* on speaker…” You take a seat on the couch, careful not to disturb the now sleeping infant as you pick up your phone and bring it closer to your person. Gregory seems… smaller than the other infants you’ve seen with the adoption agencies, you wonder if it’s a birth cause or he wasn’t taken care of before being handed off. “Hey, I’m about to go on a mission. Are you okay?”

You breathe in and exhale slowly. “Simon. You need to come home, tell Price it’s an emergency.” Your husband makes a noise on the other line, and you can hear him beginning to protest it all- “Someone dropped a baby on our doorstep- I… I cannot do this alone right now.”

There is a lot of noise coming from the other line now, you hear shouting- it’s Simon doing it. And… Gregory has woken up, he’s crying again. “Och. Simon, on your way home, which you better be doing- or I’m going to find your captain and kick him into next month- get some supplies, like we’ve talked about. I’m gonna hang up because he’s woken up due to the noise, but if I don’t see your arse in thirty minutes, there will be words, Simon Riley.” Before he can reply, you press the ‘end call’ button and turn your attention back to Gregory.

What did some babies fall asleep to? What would calm the storm that the call to your husband created? You remembered seeing your sister sing softly to her child- but you can’t give bars for shit. So, you decide to hum, very quietly ‘Hey Jude’. And just like with your niece all those years ago, it seems to do the trick. Gregory stops crying, moves to hiccuping then starts cooing at you- reaching at your face with his little chubby baby fists. He’s just so cute… You wish you could fall asleep with him, but the other thing your brain processed is that this would be the beginning to several nights of restless sleep.

It’s another thirty minutes of you humming different soft songs, mostly rock- because you can’t think of an actual lullaby for your life right now. Africa, Every Breath You Take, Tears in Heaven, Hard to Say I’m Sorry, Can’t Help Falling in love, Beautiful Boy… so many others. It works like a charm with little Gregory, he only wakes up for a moment to gurgle and reach for you, before falling back asleep.

Ten minutes later, your front door opens- almost slamming, but Simon catches it. He’s carrying several bags from the local grocery store- all in full gear. He shuts the door as quietly as he can, but it’s a little noisy with all of the plastic bags in his arms as well as his gear. Everything in his hands is set on the ground in front of the coffee table, then Simon’s walking over to you, eyes widening as he looks at the infant in your arms. “You weren’t…” His words die down when you point with a random finger to the note that had been left. Simon scans over it while taking off his mask. “Oh… just the baby then? Was there anything in his basket?”

You shake your head, stopping the humming so you can speak- hopefully Gregory won’t start crying again. “Just him, his blanket and that note.” You gesture with your head to the bags. “Do you have baby formula? Bottles? I don’t know the last time he’s had anything… there was no information on it.”

Simon brushes Gregory’s head, moving some of the hair, then walks over to the bags. He takes out a lot of formula and a couple bottles. “Woman at the register looked at me like I was mad. Told her I had a newborn and she calmed her tits.” You snort and shake your head. “I’m gonna make some warmed milk for him, then set up his crib- that’s still in the car.”

All those agencies that said the two of you were incapable of raising an infant were incorrect. You were careful in waking Gregory and giving him the bottle, once your husband had come back with it. Before leaving the room to go get the crib he needed to build, he looked at you and… well, the kid was his son now, he’d say. There is a rare instance that tears are building in his eyes, and he allows them to fall. “Simon,” you call softly from the couch. He snaps out of it and walks over to you. “Why don’t you hold him? I’ll go get the crib.”

For a moment, his brain goes to the fact that his hands aren’t meant to hold something so small and precious- his hands are those of a killer’s… but the way you look at him, a hopeful look in your eyes and the softest smile. He slowly takes Gregory from you, one arm curling around his tiny body and the other keeping leg support and holding up the bottle. “Hi, Gregory,” he whispers. The baby coos back and makes the same grabbing motion towards him, the chubby fist brushing against his paint.

“Simon,” you’re now next to him. The crib that needs to be built is in the corner of the room. “Why don’t we just sleep on the couch tonight? The three of us? It’s in a way that we won’t crush him… and it’s late.” He nods silently and gets on the couch first, handing you Gregory so he can get properly comfortable. You follow suit, lying your head against the side cushion and setting up a little pillow wall with one of your hands. “Love you, Simon.”

He breathes in deeply, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His arms go around your waist, hands cupping around the side of Gregory’s body. “Love you too.” Simon waits until both of you are asleep first before closing his eyes. His mind drifted into how lucky the two of you were to have Gregory now as sleep took over.

My poly heart!!! *Slurps up the meal*

Poly Legion dating HCs

Genre- fluff

Pairing- Frank x gn reader x Joey

Pronouns- They/them

Warnings- none

Note- Nobody asked for this, but I was very bored so I wrote this so, yeah. I am a little rusty, seeing how I haven’t wrote any good lately, so please forgive me if it’s bad. Anywho, please enjoy :-)

Your relationship started when you caught Joey’s eye in a trial, seeing how you were very tricky to catch.

You were working hard on one of the last generator with Jane. You had jumped off of the nearly complete generator and ran off, successfully distracting The masked killer from Jane and the generator.

Having that said, the wild goose chase had commenced. You led Joey through the depths of the Raccoon City Police Station; all while you were serving him some of the best jukes anyone had ever seen.

After the trial, he sat around the campfire with the other killers and complained to this boyfriend, Frank about how much you were a pain in the ass. Hearing the story of how you managed to out smart Joey, caused Frank to be interested in you too.

The next couple of weeks consisted of the two men watching you from the side lines. They learned that you were a very witty, smart, and kind person.

Once you got into a trial with the Legion(Frank) again, he avoided (or at least tried to avoid) hooking you.

This, of course did not go unnoticed by you. This keep happening to you during trials. The two would even sometimes talk to you.

This went on for a couple more weeks until Frank decided to invite you into the relationship. Seeing how this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, you accepted to offer.

You decided to keep the relationship hidden for now, seeing how the other survivors would start some type of drama about the relationship.

This of course, leads to secret dates that consist of you three taking walks in the woods, sneaking off to star gaze and cuddle, and even take trips to the resort.

At the resort, you guys would listen to various bands, tell crazy stories about life before the entity’s realm, playing card games (mostly poker), watch old movies from a projector, and you guys would commonly sleep there after your little dates.

Speaking of sleeping, you would be the little spoon, Frank would not allow you to be a big spoon. Joey on the other hand, would not mind taking turns with being little spoon and big spoon with you.

After particularly difficult trials, Joey will patch you up while Frank watches from a distance, with a sour face.

How dare anyone hurt his precious baby and get away with it?!?

Frank will try and beat who ever hurt you up. He doesn’t care if it was the Nemesis or Michael. He will one way or another, inflict some type of pain into them.

I'm gay for him okay!!

DBD Ghostface and survivor reader (gn or male) that whenever they get picked up or Ghostface is smothering them, the survivor bites him. As in the survivors go to fighting mechanism is biting lol.

And like CHOMP and never lets go. Can be soft stuff like Y/N bites softly to get attention or Cough cough Nsfw or even in the middle of a trial Y/N just bites bc its a last resort

Ouughh this is a good idea yes yes :] Hope you enjoy, sorry for the wait, I've been busy with real life stuff.

Danny Johnson w/ a Future Male S/O who bites as a fighting mechanism (SFW)

Most survivors know theres no point in fighting back, the killers will always win. But you were newer and hadn't figured that out yet.

Biting had always been a love language for you in some shape or form. You bit people for attention, to show affection to your friends, and when you were annoyed with people you were close to

Point was, you only bit people you liked.

In the middle of a trial with the Ghostface, you'd spent a good time running and hiding, only popping out to do gens when you knew he was busy

But slowly, your team had whittled down and you were the last one remaining with one generator left to complete. It would be close

Ghostface was on your ass though and barely gave you a minute to breath. It wasn't long before he grabbed you

You still swear what happened in that trial was instinctive...

Kicking and screaming, you were not making it easy for Ghostface whatsoever. He'd finally grabbed you and was carrying you to a hook. Had you had more team members, perhaps you wouldn't have fought so hard. But with your entire team down, getting hook was a death sentence and you only had one generator left!

Ghostface was going to have to try harder if he wanted to kill you.

As you both got closer to the hook, Ghostface visibly annoyed with you, you decided the only way out was to make the killer drop you.

So you bit him.

"What the fuck!?" Ghostface screamed as your teeth sunk into the fabric of his costume and piercing his skin. With your angle thrown over his shoulder, you had to turn and bite at his side. Your teeth cut through his costume's fabric and your mouth flooded with blood as you bit him harshly. Abruptly, you hit the floor as the man let you go out of surprise.

You took off running, uncaring if Ghostface was chasing you or not. With him, it was always better to assume he was. Although your bite had surprised him, he wasn't about to let you hurry off to heal yourself. Unfortunately you didn't get far before Ghostface was upon you, knocking you to the ground and pinning you face down into the damp dirt of the surrounding forest. The only sounds around were the trees and your struggling. "God, you're a little brat aren't ya?" Ghostface sounded smug as he adjusted himself to sit on your lower back.

"Get off-" You grunted, trying to push him off to no avail.

He shook his head in a taunting way. "You bit me you little shit!"

"And I'll do it again if you don't let me go!" You snarled now, visibly biting at his hands if they got too close to your face.

"Alright, spitfire," Ghostface pulled out his camera and knife as he spoke slowly, "we doing this the hard way then?"

You paused, furrowing your brow. "What's the easy way then?"

Ghostface paused, tilting his head down at you even though you couldn't see it. "Easy way? Darling, there's only the hard way."

You couldn't help but snort at his choice of phrasing. "Oh yeah, you're all about doing things hard?" A giggle escaped you just as the killer held a knife to your throat and hesitated.

Ghostface stared off into space, contemplating. Of all the killers, the Ghostface was known for his brutality and lack of hesitation. You felt yourself take a slow inhale as he set his camera down and adjusted himself to be leaning over you more.

You winced at the cold metal pressing hard into your neck and the soft kiss the man lay on your cheek. "Sorry for this darling," he hummed as he picked up his camera and snapped a photo with you.

Your eyes shut on instinct from the bright light and you glared at the ground. "What do I have to do for you to let me go?"

The man above you seemed to contemplate for a moment. "How about a kiss for your favorite ghost?" His tone was cruel and taunting, like he didn't expect you to say yes.

You'll show him.

"Okay." You shrugged plainly. "You'll have to let me at least roll over first, but alright." Anything to get to that final generator at least.

Ghostface was silent for a moment before you felt yourself flip over, nearly knocking the wind out of you. The sight of the killer straddling you, knife in hand, did something to you. "Hey beautiful," you teased, mostly out of panic. But he was pretty, you assumed. No one had seen him without his mask before but some of the girls often talked about men with masks being hotter.

Maybe they were onto something. You'd have to compare notes with them later.

Ghostface tilted his head slightly. "Beautiful, huh?" He seemed contemplative. You sat up slowly, only able to prop yourself up on your forearms with him sitting on you. Carefully, you reached up with one hand to move his mask up just enough to reveal his mouth.

Ghostface sat back slightly, just to allow you to sit up and kiss him. His lips were soft as you kissed him, warmer than you expected them to be. The kiss heated up quickly when you gripped his waist and felt his arms encircle your neck. You knocked his mask off the rest of the way to entangle one of your hands in his dark hair. Pinning him to the ground, you felt him grind up against you just as you bit his lower lip hard, drawing blood.

Pulling away, he stared up at you with wide eyes and a smile on his face. He was pretty, you'll give him that. Bright green eyes, cute freckles, brown hair... You almost thought it was a shame he was a killer. He could have had a harem of men and women lined up for him if it weren't for the mask.

Briefly, the thought that he was prettier with a bloody lip while on top of you flickered through your mind but you shut that down quickly.

"Really a shame," he sighed sadly, wiping blood from his mouth. His tone pulled you from your thoughts as he gazed down at you with a forlorn expression. "You're quite the catch. But I'm afraid we're almost out of time before the Entity cuts us off."

"Hope you catch the plague from me," you hissed at him, realizing what he was saying. His responding laughter ringing out in the quiet space. A pretty sound, if it weren't for the knife he pressed to your throat again.

"See you soon, sweetheart. I'll be watching," was the last thing you heard before feeling sharp, stinging pain shoot down your spine as the cold metal of the knife sliced your neck open. Your blood sprayed out and covered Ghostface beneath you. He was grinning up at you with wild eyes vision blacked out...

Opening your eyes, you sat up slowly to rub the phantom pains from your neck as you took in your surroundings. The smell of smoke and soft voices let you know you were back in the survivor's camp, the bright campfire only a few paces away judging by the orange-yellow glow grazing the trees. The damp fog of the forest seeped into your bones and sent a chill up your back. But the abrupt feeling of eyes on you had your head jerking to look around in the darkness of the forest.

The familiar figure of the Ghostface was nearby, crouched down in the tall grass, head tilted curiously as he observed you. When you locked eyes with him he gave you a little wave. Coming from anyone else it would have been cute or sweet, but coming from him just gave you a strange feeling in your stomach.

Your next trial together would certainly be interesting.

*quietly sips on tea*

Imagine Dead by Daylight’s Shape/Myers getting jealous and having to reinforce that the survivor is his. Maybe Ghostface got a little too flirty with them or another killer let them go during a trial and it drove Michael mad, reading into things too much, every little detail leading him to doubt himself. So, he seeks them out during a trial of their own. He doesn’t care if any of the other survivors hear or if they escape, he just needs to leave his mark on his survivor and hear them call his name. Rough stuff, ego boosting, marking etc.

Aw man, y'all know I love me a good possessive slasher. I've been stroking this prompt lovingly and waiting for the day I knew I could nail it, so let's fucking gooo!

!!!This post contains adult content for an adult audience, minors and ageless blogs dni with this post!!!

Reblogs > Likes! Make sure ya Reblog it if ya hit the heart to support future content for the pleasure of your peepers!

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader is gn and ambiguous (Though v brief mention of reader in a skirt one time), Possessive behavior, Primal play, Knife play + Marking with said knife

_____

Simply put: You were his favorite obsession. Michael had taken quite the shining to you since your first run in, where you had a...unique style of distraction. Where you would wolf whistle his way and holler at him from across the street of his very own domain. Or where you'd lift up your shirt and flash him and tauntingly yell that he could have a piece of you-- IF he could catch you.

Curiosity had hit him. Such a strange being you were. And from what he heard through the grapevine that was the Entity's spidery-like arms- you didn't do it with other killers. In fact, you liked to trip them up, but not in such a loud way.

He'd caught you only a handful of times before then since your first encounter. The first time he'd caught you, you'd laughed, clutching at the slash across the front of your chest where you were bleeding. You had your back to the wall, panting as you crooned out, "So what piece will it be, big guy? Arm? Leg?"

When he'd roughly tugged at your shirt, you'd only laughed even as he exposed you. Testing you even as your hands came up and you'd smiled so gleefully. "Oh! And here I was starting to wonder I wasn't your type!" Even with your wound still bleeding.

Yes, you were indeed his favorite obsession.

~Rest under the cut~

When this relationship began and where it ended was up to anyone. During the full moons when the Entity let you all mingle, you'd always end up in his domain. Under him or above him, panting with your head thrown back and moaning his name.

Michael had gotten quite the taste for it now. Hearing you whine his name like that, tossing and turning and squirming beneath his very touch. Didn't matter how rough he handled you, you ate it up with gleeful sounds.

You were his. And only he could get this rise out of you. Only you would treat him the way you do.

So imagine his surprise when word through the grapevine is that Ghostface is getting to toy with you. Where he flaunts pictures of you and laughs about how he'd like to tap that. How enraged you'd been when you found those pictures of you and he'd gotten to see up your skirt you'd had on that day. And how turned on Ghostface had been when you'd gotten up in his face.

Michael feels that itch in his fingertips to stab him, so he follows that itch. Stabbing straight through Ghostface's hand and nailing it to the table full of your pictures.

The hunt begins upon next trial.

You know it's him right away, but you feel something's off. You believe it to be a game near immediately, cautiously making your way through his domain. The flashing lights of the police car blinding you briefly as you take in your surroundings after finishing a generator.

When your eyes meet a white mask, you fight a smile as you take off quickly. Playing the game of 'prey' as you run from him with Michael in hot pursuit.

When he catches you, you're slammed onto the nearest surface. In your case, it ends up being an old bed, your body bouncing on it before you gasp as he gets on top of you. You play victim, kicking and squirming and trying to get out of his grasp before his rough hand grabs your chin and forces your eyes on him. Your wrists pinned by his other hand above your head.

"O-oh come on, I don't wanna get hooked today-" You whine out, arching your back into him and grumbling. Your heart races, your eyes meeting the holes of his mask and briefly seeing his own through them. One baby blue, one blinded. His breathing is heavy, off somehow.

And he's not moving from between your legs either.

"Michael-" You huff, rolling your hips up to try and press him up and off you. It doesn't work, of course, but it does work in making him press down further on top of you. "Come on- during a trial? Really? Won't the Entity be pissed?"

His response is silence, as it always is. But you swear- you swear you hear a growl.

Fuck-

--

It winds up with your clothes half off and his fingers buried inside of you as you lay on your side. You keep your mouth covered, or at least try to before he's ripping your hand from your mouth. Desperate to hear the way you whine his name, the way you look at him through your wet lashes as your body quivers with another orgasm.

Taken apart by his hand.

You cry out when his fingers keep pounding into you, knowing now to keep your eyes on his. You whimper when you see his other hand come up, holding his knife and pressing to your hip. But you mumble, "Yes, yes, yes, fuck yes, Michael, mark me, come on, baby. Yes, yes, yes-" Your mouth running so quickly, eagerly.

--

By the end of the trial, you gain a new scar. A sharp 'M' carved into your right hip. Not to mention how sore you feel after.

At least Michael will know you're not thinking of anyone else anytime soon.

____________

REBLOGS > LIKES! Make sure ya Reblog it if ya hit the heart to support future content for the pleasure of your peepers!

I am multi fandom- my friend made a mistake dragging me into this mess

rhysand x reader with wing play and rhys being a sub?

sub!rhys is an inexperienced baby.

You coo softly in the high lord’s ear, whispering gentle praises for taking you so well. His body covers yours, skin pressed against skin, joining in the way only lovers do.

Rhys hasn’t felt this level of intimacy for another in a long while. He began trembling the moment he entered you, hiding his face into your neck and breathing hard, getting used to the feeling of your warm, silky walls wrapped around him. “Just like that, baby,” You had sighed contently when Rhys found the strength to move his hips, rutting against your own in slow, gentle thrusts. “Take what you need.” His cock slides nicely over your inner walls, occasionally finding spots which make you tighten around him. It wouldn’t be enough to send you over the edge. That didn’t matter. Being honest, you took more pleasure in turning Rhys into a whimpering, cunt drunk mess.

Your arms are wrapped around him, holding him as close to you as possible. You explore his body, fingers burying in silky locks, palms sliding and squeezing muscled shoulders, nails gently scraping over warm skin. Rhys purrs, sloppily grinding his hips against yours. You let your fingers wander, trailing down his back, between those large, dark wings draping over you both. Intrigued, your fingertips skim dangerously close. Rhys shudders, muffling a moan into your skin.

“Can I touch you?” Your ask, your voice a soft whisper as you kiss Rhys’s neck. The male curses beneath his breath, bracing himself, allowing him to force more strength into his thrusts. You release a pleasured laugh as his cock hits deeper than before. “Yes,” Rhys groans, “Please. Touch me.”

You do. Your touch explores Rhys’s wings. Learning what spots cause his breath to hitch and hips to stutter. The poor male practically sobbed when you lightly dragged your nails along the membrane. You want to know him better than he does, you want to know how to please him like he deserves.

Rhys reached his climax mere minutes after you began caressing his beautiful wings. His teeth dug into your skin, suppressing the sounds of his high. “There you go, that’s it,” You praised him throughout his climax, contrasting with the way your fingers still skated across his sensitive wings, driving Rhys into overstimulation.

You’re addicted. In need of seeing him lose control a few more times.