WhhhhahAAAHAAAAAAAAA

WhhhhahAAAHAAAAAAAAA

“I’m just gettin’ started bub. ⭐️”

Haven’t posted in a while! BUT I SAW DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE YIPPE!! ⭐️

imagine riding boothill, he’s constantly groaning “darlin’, darlin’ so fudgin’ gorgeous” or “that’s it, ride my clock so good” until he suddenly doesn’t, a sharp grunt comes from his mouth, hands clasping on your hips and pounding up into you, “love how you feel around my fuckin’ cock!”

and you stop, immediately, both yours and his eyes wide, “darlin’, what the fuck just happened?” you somehow fixed his synesthesia beacon with how hard your ass smacked on his metal body.

Inside Out (Logan Howlett x f!reader)

A/N: Oh my god I'm back again. This is another soft!Logan fic. I couldn't hold myself back from writing this one. The next fic I have planned is going to be devious and diabolical, I promise, but for now, here's another angsty, soft and smutty Logan one shot. Couldn't stop listening to "Inside Out" by Duster while writing this one. I think it fits. Hope you guys enjoy :)

Summary: After a tense battle, you and Logan have it out (in more ways than one).

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ Minors DNI! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, PIV (unprotected...wrap it up, this is fiction!), Allusions to PTSD/mental health, Frenemies to Lovers, Fem!reader, AFAB!reader, Mutant!reader, Telepathic!reader (with heightened senses/visions), cannon typical violence/allusions to death, non-sexual intimacy becomes sexual intimacy (not sure if that warrants a warning), angry!Logan, reader has hair (length/texture/color not described!) major angst, probably grammatical errors, I think that's everything.

Word Count: 4477 wow

You and Logan are surrounded. You can hear the other members of the team nearby in the forest, screaming, grunting, fighting. Guns going off, ricocheting against trees. And now, there is a circle of government-sanctioned mutant hunters pointing their machine guns and rifles directly at the two of you. 

Your heart beats out of your chest. How the fuck are you going to get out of this? It seems impossible. Sure, you and Logan can regenerate, but not nearly fast enough. You’re outnumbered 2 to at least 40, and more to come. Maybe this is the end. Maybe there’s no going home this time. 

But then, an idea crosses your mind. Briefly. A flash. A shot in the dark. But it’s there. And if you’re strong enough, it might just work.

You wince as another presence weaves itself through the fabric of your thoughts. No, Charles shouts in your mind. It’s too dangerous. 

You shake him off, forcing up your mental shields. Logan recognizes that look on your face. He can tell you’re up to something. He has always been able to read you like a book. 

“Don’t you dare put yourself in danger,” he mutters under his breath so only you can hear him. “We are all walking out of here, and you’re no exception.”

You close your eyes. “When I tell you to get down, you get down.”

“Absolutely not!” His nostrils flare. The government agents cock their guns. 

“Lo, get down.”

“Fuck no!”

You can feel it coming—feel their fingers bracing their triggers. Pulling. Pulling. Pulling. Everything is silent for a moment. You can hear everything. Nothing. There’s a squirrel running up a tree just a few feet away. A cold breeze sweeps through your legs. Peace. 

It never lasts long, does it?

“NOW!”

BANG! The shots ring out, echoing against the branches, the sound shaking the trees. 

With half your focus, you shove Logan to the ground, and with the other, you stop each and every bullet pointed in your direction. You stop the agents too, freezing them in their places. Dense, heavy sweat builds upon your brow. You’re trembling, your hands stretched out towards Logan and the agents, but you’re still in control. You can hold on a bit longer.  

You swallow harshly, forcing the bullets to rain down to the ground. With the twist of your hand, you remove the magazines from each of the guns and unload them, the ammunition falling to the ground, too. With the agents still under your control, you bend their wrists just enough so that they sprain; just enough so that they can’t fight back. 

And then comes that sudden, familiar shift in your body and in your mind. You’re weakening, losing control, struggling to breathe. You growl in agony, your head ready burst from the pressure of hanging on too long—but you have to finish this. You have to save your friends. 

You have to save Logan. 

With one final push of your hand, you send the government agents flying deep into the forest, screaming in pain at the sheer force it takes. You fall to your knees, down on the ground next to Logan. You try to catch your breath, your chest heaving rapidly. You cough, choking on your own breath and saliva as the taste of metal burns at the back of your throat. You swallow it all down. One more second of that, or a few more agents to fend off, and you might not have made it. You might have died trying. 

You regain some of your energy after a few moments on the ground. It’s not until you try to stand that you notice Logan’s hand on your back. He tries to help you up, but you shake him off. 

“I’m fine,” you protest, dusting off your uniform. 

“Fine?” Fuck. He’s angry. “You call that fine? You almost died!”

You turn to face him. He wants anger? Oh, you can show him what anger fucking looks like. “We would be dead if I didn’t do that! I did what I had to do!”

He prowls toward you. His claws are still out. “Are you fucking crazy?” He’s backing you into a tree now. “Tell me, what the fuck was that? What did you think you were doing?” He retracts his claws as he pins his hands into the tree, right next to your head. The bark scratches into the rips in your uniform. 

You condescendingly poke his chest with your pointer figure. If he’s going to treat you like a child, you’re going to do the same to him. “Saving your ass, that’s what!” You shout back. 

“This is not the time or place for you two to have it out.” Scott’s grating voice fills your ears. He is the last person’s opinion you’d like to hear right now.

You and Logan snap your heads to face him. “Shut the fuck up, Scott!” You spit in unison. He throws his hands up and backs away. 

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Logan practically growls. 

You shake your head, your nostrils flaring. “I was protecting you!” You shout. “And I did! It worked!”

The rest of the team starts to board the jet, but Logan shows no sign of budging. Storm crosses her arms as she stands in front of the ramp. “Logan, let’s go.” 

He doesn’t move an inch, still caging you in. “I’ve got the bike. I’ll take her with me.”

“My bike!” Scott calls from just inside the ship. Logan shoots him a death stare. Even you roll your eyes at the comment. 

“Logan,” Charles chides from next to Storm, his voice a warning. 

You tilt your head past Logan to see Charles. “It’s fine. I’ll go with him. We’ll meet you guys at the mansion.” 

Charles nods. You swear you can see a faint smirk spread across his face, but he’s turning around and wheeling himself up the ramp before you can truly make out his expression. 

The ramp shuts behind him, and the jet powers up to leave. “So how are we settling this, hm?” You ask, cockily. Logan works his jaw, staring down at you with a fury you’re not quite sure you’ve seen before. “What would you like to do, bub?” You smirk. “What, you gonna tell me we’re supposed to be a team or something? Thought that wasn’t your style.” You know you’re being harsh, using his own words against him, ripping into him, but you don’t care. The jet takes off, but neither you nor Logan pay it any mind. 

His tongue swipes his bottom lip, and you can’t help but watch. You try to ignore how much you like the sight of it. Of him. 

“Never,” he seethes, not wavering an inch. “Never do anything like that again.”

“Why?” Is all you ask, knowing full well you’re poking the bear. “It’s nothing you wouldn’t have done.”

He ignores you and presses on. “I swear to God, if anything ever happens to you, I will punch a fucking hole in the goddamn universe so big that…” He trails off, his eyes searching your face. There’s a shift in his expression. “So fucking big that…” But he still doesn’t finish the sentence. His eyes are glossed over, like he’s holding back tears. 

You’re suddenly embarrassed. You can’t keep his stare, his eyes locked on you. You look down at the leaf-covered ground, and you realize just how dirty you are. Blood on your hands, under your nails, caked into your skin. You’re finally understanding the gravity of the moment—of what could have been if your plan didn’t work. 

“It was the only way,” you pause, feeling tears sting behind your sinuses, burning as they reach your eyes. “Only way I saw it ending without you d-dying.” You have to choke the words out. “C-couldn’t lose you,” you mutter, hoping he can’t hear you. 

“And what?” He says, not backing down. “You think you’re the only one with something to lose?”

“N-no,” you stutter softly. “That’s not what I meant at all. I just—”

“I’d rather die than live in a world without you.” He says finally. He pushes himself off the tree and away from you. He turns, walking towards wherever he parked the bike. 

You look at his back in disbelief. “W-what?” “You fucking heard me,” he shouts, not bothering to stop and wait for you or to elaborate further. You push your back off the tree and follow him through the forest. 

“Slow down!” You call out, still not quite fully recovered from using your powers. But he keeps pressing forward. “Logan!” You call again. “Please, I—” You stumble a bit, almost falling over, but you catch yourself just in time. You reach out to a tree for support, gripping a low branch tightly in your hand. You suck in deep, shaky breaths as you let your eyes fall closed. 

Logan shouts your name in the near distance, his voice filled with panic. His footsteps crunch the leaves of the forest floor. You can tell he’s sprinting with every twig that cracks beneath his boots. “Fuck, are you okay?” He’s next to you now, his arms enveloping you, reaching around your waist to offer you support. 

You can feel your tears bubbling to the surface, threatening to burst. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, opening your eyes to look up at him. “I just didn’t see any other way.”

“I know.” His voice is gentler now, calmer. He helps you straighten up, taking a tentative step and watching as you take one too. He walks slowly, making sure not to rush you, keeping an eye on your every move. “I’m sorry too,” he says. “What you do…you just scare me sometimes.”

You hope he doesn’t see the tear that slips out the corner of your eye and down your cheek. “I scare myself. I still can’t control my powers. I know I’m a monster.” You can see the bike in the distance, so you take another step, but Logan stops. “I just feel so inside out sometimes, like I can’t be comfortable in my own head never mind my own skin.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” His voice is steady now, firm. His grip around your waist tightens, keeping you in place. “You’re not a monster. You’re beautiful—” He cuts himself off. “What you can do, is beautiful.”

“Then what is it that scares you?” You need to know. 

“You’re just so selfless. What you did back there…” He pauses. “You knew you could die. I saw it in the way you were standing. The way you looked at me. It was reckless.”

He searches your face, your eyes, your lips for an answer. “You’re no better,” you huff out. Logan smirks, guiding you towards the bike yet again. “It’s just what you do when you care about someone.”

“I know.” His lips are pressed against the shell of your ear. “I know,” he repeats. 

He helps you onto the back of the bike, holding your hips as you straddle the seat. His hands linger longer than they should. He squeezes softly before letting go and walking to the front. He straddles the bike himself, grabbing the key from his jacket pocket and turning it into the ignition. The bike springs to life. 

“Hang on, alright?” He calls out over the roar of the engine. You nod against his back, slipping your arms under his jacket and around his waist. He kicks the stand up, and the bike rumbles underneath you as he presses on the gas. You tighten your hold on him as the bike jolts forward. 

You rest your head on his back, letting yourself fold over him completely. He’s warm and solid underneath you. You shut your eyes, too tired to watch the tires speed across the black pavement. Aside from the engine, the tires against the street below, and the wind, there’s no sound. No one around. It’s just you and Logan. Alone. 

You feel him breathe in deeply. “Don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t make it.”  You can feel the words reverberate in his back. “I mean it.”

“But I did,” you say, lifting your head so that you can speak against his ear. “I’m right here.” He hums in affirmation, and you rest your head on his back again. You hesitantly reach your hands under his shirt this time, arms wrapping around him as tight as possible. You know this is pushing the boundaries of your “friendship,” but he doesn’t stop you—doesn’t push you away. He just hums again. “I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, and shut your eyes. 

“Good.”

The ride back to the mansion isn’t terribly long, and you wish it could’ve been longer. Logan drives the bike into the garage, taking the keys out of the ignition and kicking out the stand. You lift your head, and before you can even think of getting up on your own, Logan is wrapping his arms around your body and lifting you off the seat. 

You let him hold you there for a moment. You try to tell yourself that this is just a hug between friends, that this whole situation is what happens when you care about someone too much. But it’s hard to lie to yourself when you feel so impossibly strongly about someone. 

He drops his arms from your body and silently takes your hand in his. He guides you to the door that leads to the mansion, keeping you close. 

It’s dark once you step inside. Everyone must have gone to bed. It likely took you and Logan five times as long as the jet to get back to the mansion. Quiet fills the halls. There’s not a stir, not a creak, not a step. You can sense that everyone is asleep, or at least in their rooms. 

“Lo?” You whisper. He squeezes your hand. A surge of confidence racks through you. “Can you stay with me?” You’re not quite sure what you mean by that—what you expect him to do if he stays. All you’re certain of is that you don’t want him to leave. 

He nods, leading you up the stairs. “Won’t go anywhere, sweetheart.” He guides you down the hall towards his room. “Let’s get cleaned up, okay?” 

He opens the door and guides you in, shutting it carefully behind him. He lets go of your hand, the sudden emptiness making your palm feel cold. How do people become so important, so quickly? How can someone letting go of your hand hurt so bad when they’re still just a few feet away? You’re not sure, but you know this feeling is dangerous. 

He’s rummaging through his drawers for a few seconds before he pulls out a t-shirt and places it on the dresser in front of him. He grabs another set of clothes, closes the drawer, and carries them over to you. He extends the shirt out to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. That’s what he is right now: soft. You’re not used to this side of him. 

You take the shirt from him, smiling back. “You should shower. You can use mine.” His head tilts towards the bathroom on the other side of his room. You nod and pad over, opening the door, turning on the lights, and closing the door behind you. 

You keep moving, undressing and turning the water on. It doesn’t take long for the water to heat up, the steam fogging every inch and surface of the room. You step inside the shower, letting the water run down your body. Your eyes fall closed while your mind searches for some kind of peace. You try to recall what Charles often told you: Calm your mind. But it isn’t working this time. Your mind is racing. 

You envision Logan’s angry, fearful face; his concern and panic. Charles’s call that it would be too dangerous echoes and reverberates. You see yourself dead on the ground, Logan holding your lifeless body in his arms. Even worse, you find yourself imagining that it didn’t work at all—that you couldn’t save the team, never mind yourself. This time it’s Logan’s body you see, on the ground, dead. Just like that, your whole world can slip out of your hands and turn to nothing. 

Choked sobs escape your throat as you let yourself fall to your knees. There’s a piercing, splitting pain somewhere deep inside your head. These visions, these feelings, this pain—it’s physical and mental. And it’s too much. It’s not the first time you’ve had visions like these after a fight or a mission, but it is the worst episode yet. 

There’s a knock on the door, followed by Logan calling your name. You try to answer, but your voice is caught in your throat. Logan knocks harder, but you still can’t speak. “I’m coming in!” The door swings open and his eyes widen as he sees your crumpled form on the shower floor, face stained red with tears. 

He shoves the shower door open, practically cracking the glass in the process. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of how naked you are, but it’s clear Logan isn’t. His gaze is trained on your face. “I-it happens, sometimes,” you stutter, reassuring him that this is normal. “A-after missions.”

Logan’s shoulders relax, his eyes softening with understanding. “I know what you mean.” His hands come up to your arms, rubbing gently. “Let me help you.” He gestures with his head toward the shower. You nod and watch as Logan takes his shirt off. He stands to take off his jeans, and you look away, taking the moment to force yourself to stand. You hear him step into the shower and slide the door shut behind him. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, swallowing harshly. 

Logan stands behind you, less than a foot away. The shower is just big enough for the two of you. “Nothing to be sorry for. Just let me take care of you.” 

“Okay,” you whisper. You hear him shuffle a bit, squeeze a bottle, and shuffle a bit more. 

“Can I touch you?” He asks. 

“Y-yeah,” you answer. You wonder if he can hear how fast your heart is beating. But before you can think about it too much, his hands come up to your wet hair. He massages shampoo into your scalp, his fingertips scrubbing ever so gently. You feel your shoulders settle—your body relax. No one has ever done anything like this for you before. 

You watch as the dirt trickles down your body to the drain. After a few moments of massaging, Logan nudges you forward a bit, and you take the hint to step under the water fully. You close your eyes as he scrubs the shampoo from your hair. 

When he’s done, he removes his hands from your hair and slides them down to your neck, and then to your shoulders. You step away from the water, almost bumping into his chest in the process. 

“’M’sorry,” you mumble. 

“No more apologizing, darlin’.” His hands come off your shoulders. You feel lost without the contact. You listen as the bottle pops open again, and Logan quickly scrubs the shampoo into his own hair. You instinctively step forward to let him rinse, and he does.

You take a deep breath, trying to concentrate and calm down now that his hands aren’t on you. But it doesn’t last long. He opens another bottle, pouring more liquid into his hands. 

He rests his hands on your shoulders again. You can feel the body wash run down your arms. “Can I…” Logan trails off, his hands firm, unmoving until you give the word. 

“Mhm,” you hum. His hands start to work the soap into your arms, up to your neck, your collarbone, stopping just above your chest. “Logan,” you murmur, letting yourself lean into him. You feel his heart beating against your back. His breath fans over your shoulder.

You can tell he’s losing his composure, the way he slouches around you, inviting you in. This isn’t something friends do. You two aren’t friends. This is something more. 

And he knows. 

“There’s no coming back from this,” he whispers, his lips at your temple. “If we do this.”

You push back further into him. “Who says I’d want to go back?”

Your back is suddenly met with the cold shower wall, your chest flush with Logan’s. His lips press into yours, swallowing your moans as his hands come up to your breasts, pinching your nipples lightly. He moves down your body quickly, leaving a trail of kisses down your jawline, your neck, the center of your chest, your stomach, stopping just above your clit. 

“Relax,” he soothes, his thumbs brushing your hips. He spreads your legs with the palms of his hands before pressing a kiss to your clit. You shudder at the feeling, whispering his name and throwing your head back. 

He licks a long stripe up your cunt, landing on your clit, taking it into his mouth and sucking roughly. He laps at you hungrily, like a man starved. One of his hands resting on your hip comes down in between your thighs, experimentally sliding through your folds, teasing your entrance. 

It feels so good, but you want him—need him—closer. He inserts two fingers, gently pumping in and out, flicking your clit with his tongue at the same time. 

“Logan,” you whine. You look down at him, his head buried in your cunt. He looks up at you, his eyes wide and filled with lust. You’re already close. But it’s not enough “Need you, now. Want you here.”

“I’m here,” he mumbles against your core. You’re shaking, melting underneath him. 

“N-need you,” you beg again. “Please.” 

He sucks on your clit one last time before removing his fingers from your cunt and standing up to meet you.

His hands rest on either side of your head. Your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of him. “Are you sure you want this?” His voice wavers just a bit, a slight tremble shaking the usual steadiness of his words. He looks down to your lips and back up to your eyes—his jaw working, as if he’s searching for a sign that you’ve changed your mind—that you don’t want him anymore. 

But you’ll always want him. You always have. 

“Y-yes,” You stutter. He wraps one hand around the back of your neck and uses the other to hoist one of your legs around his waist. His hard cock rubs against your stomach as he moves to line up with your entrance. 

“Wanted you this whole time, pretty girl.” He thrusts into you, sinking down to the hilt. He stays there for a moment, pulling you into him, his free hand grabbing your ass and picking you up so that both legs wrap around his waist. 

He uses the wall as leverage, fucking you into the tiles at your back. Once he’s sure you’re stable against him, his hand leaves your ass and comes in between your bodies, searching for your clit. He begins to stroke, drawing perfect circles there, while his cock hits that sweet spot inside you. 

It’s perfect, everything about this moment is perfect. It all feels so good. You moan his name, his hips rutting into you over and over again.

“Doing so good for me,” he husks, biting the skin just under your jaw, licking the spot where your pulse point is, peppering kisses there. You wonder if he does it because it’s a reminder that you’re still here, still alive, still breathing. “Taking me so well, sweetheart.” 

His words work to coax you off the edge, each swipe of his fingers and thrust of his cock bringing you closer to your orgasm. “L-Logan,” you stutter, his name—him—the only thing in your normally noisy mind. This is what peace is. This is the calm you’ve been searching for your whole life: it’s him. 

You can feel his pace growing faster, his cock pushing deeper, stretching you out as he plunges into you. “You feel so fucking good,” he groans, kissing your pulse point again. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Your walls flutter around him, your clit becoming overstimulated and sensitive as he flicks roughly. You’re so close. “Lo—” but you can’t find the words. 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he mumbles, his forehead pressing to yours. “Want you to look at me when you come. Can you do that for me?” 

You moan a yes as he buries his cock deep inside you, before pulling out and pumping back in again. 

You can feel your eyes growing heavy, but you keep them open, watching Logan as he pulls your orgasm from you. “That’s it. I’ve got you.” His words, the bass of his voice, him, it all sends you over the edge. He works you through it, still circling your clit, his pace growing sloppier as he chases his own orgasm. 

You wrap your legs tighter around his waist. He knows what you want. “Inside,” you whisper. 

“Oh f-fuck,” he moans, coming inside you, filling you up. 

His thrusts begin to slow, his hand leaving that space between your bodies. You feel like air, weightless, drunk off the way he makes you feel. He carefully slips out of you, but he doesn’t put you back down on the ground. He simply readjusts, picking you up in his arms and carrying you out of the shower. 

He sets you down on the bathmat and crosses the tiled floor to the towel rack, where two towels conveniently hang. He wraps one towel around his waist as he strides over to you. He starts to dry you off, rubbing you gently, kissing each spot he dries as he goes. He’s worshipping you, taking care of you. No one has ever taken care of you like this. 

Once he’s finished, he wraps you up in the towel, and picks you up again. He carries you back into his room, resting you gently on the already turned-down bed. He crawls in after you, discarding his towel in the process. You toss your towel to the side, too. You nestle in under the covers, and Logan does the same. 

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. You can feel that peace again, that calm from before, when he was buried inside of you. It was him. It was always him. Your mind is quiet, no longer all loud and inside out. 

“I’ve got you,” Logan whispers, his legs tangling with yours. 

You bury your face into his chest. “Don’t let go.” But you know you don’t need to ask. 

His mind is already made up. 

“Never will.” 

Heh

good GAWD

Blindfolded Malleus

💚 summary: You edge Malleus while he's blindfolded ༶༶༶ 💚 warnings: gender neutral reader, you go to TOWN on those horns of his, brief mention of Malleus wanting to breed you, blowjob, penis in [gender neutral hole] sex, creampie ༶༶༶ 💚 word count: 6.6k words ༶༶༶ 💚 inspired by: @creepysun-cpsunnhild's ask thank you! ♡✧*:･ﾟ

Malleus sits patiently on his bed, hands clasped on his lap, buzzing with nervous excitement as he waits for you to join him. He is already stripped down to only his boxers, eager to begin the night's festivities.

"Are you nervous?" you ask him as you rummage around in your backpack before finally pulling out a silky black blindfold purchased from the secret backroom of Sam's shop.

Malleus blinks, mouth parting slightly in the way he does when surprised, "A little? This is rather... novel for me." His lips fall into a pout. "Being unable to see your face is strange. I won't get to enjoy your expression as you pleasure me..."

You zip up your backpack and saunter over to his bed where Malleus waits, boxers tented around the evidence that he is looking forward to this, despite his apprehensions. You flash him a mischievous smile as you crawl over to him on the bed, settling in a straddle across his thighs. "That will just force you to be more sensitive to my touch," you coo as you cup his soft, milky cheek in your hand, admiring the complete beauty of his face for a final moment before you blindfold him. As he returns your loving gaze, his slitted pupils start to widen from desire and you watch in awe as his verdant irises are completely swallowed by inky pools of hunger. “I promise you won't even miss my face in the heat of the moment,” you try to reassure him.

He scoffs before murmuring in a low, smoky voice, "You know me far better than that, child of man." And yet, despite his objections, he obediently tilts his chin down, lowering his lashes as he allows you to place the black silk over his face. Malleus inhales sharply as the light suddenly dims to complete darkness. He stills like a startled creature of the forest as his sight leaves him, his muscles tense and his eyelids twitch under the silk as he comes to terms with his new vulnerability. You stop straddling him, denying him the comforting warmth of your thighs against his as you crouch on your knees beside him. He growls as you refuse to indulge his lust, remaining perfectly still as he struggles to find his bearings. You want him to simmer with arousal before you ease his longing—a little frustration will make his eventual orgasm that much more satisfying.

His innate magical ability attempts to compensate for the obscuration of his eyes by granting him heightened senses that would guide him in a perilous situation. He finds himself hyper aware of the beating of your heart and the slow rhythmic cadence of your breathing. The tension between your still bodies grows palpable. Your heartbeats thrum synchronically with the silent yearning of two lovers desperate to press skin against skin. Malleus is so ethereally beautiful, your heart can’t help but leap every time you look at him. The black silk shrouding his vision only serves to emphasize the handsome cut of his jaw and his sharp, seductive lips, parted in breathless anticipation. The glossy fabric paints a dark tapestry against the snowy hues of his skin. A lock of his viridian hair slips along his forehead in a way that accentuates the graceful curve of his brow. Every fiber of his being drips with all the charms of an otherworldly prince, an untouchable enigma that transcends mortal understanding. Yet he sits there, completely bared to you, stripped of his power, a masterpiece defaced by a veil of cloth; a prize awaiting the taking.

Despite his lack of sight, he can feel your gaze on him like a physical caress, causing goosebumps to sprout across his alabaster skin and his ears and cheeks to bloom a flustered rose-red. He knows you are simply teasing him, but the sensation of being denied his favorite view of his beloved is utterly infuriating. Yet, something about being without your gaze stirs the desire within him. When your lovemaking has reached its peak in the past, the sight of your flushed cheeks and blissed out expression has made his blood run hot and has left him in the throes of the most pleasurable high. Not being able to gaze upon you will allow him to focus his whole being upon the ecstasy he feels every time he is brought to climax. This denial will amplify the sensations he will feel in the midst of passion and he finds himself anxiously anticipating how overwhelming those emotions might be. His cock grows harder and twitches excitedly at the thought and he bites his lip to contain the groans of arousal rising up in the back of his throat. Your proximity, despite him being unable to see your form, is positively maddening. Now that sight is taken away, the darkness is acting like an aphrodisiac. He wants nothing more than to lose himself to desire, touch, scent, and sound—to bring both of your hearts racing and be subsumed in an orgasmic trance. And so, the anticipation of the evening ahead courses through Malleus' body in electric tremors, setting his soul on fire. For someone with the lifespan of a fae, a moment is but a speck of sand on a shore, yet every minute you make him wait seems to drag into torturous eternity. He wants—no, he craves to take you and bask in the throes of passionate euphoria... Yet, he sits there, at the mercy of you and the unfolding events.

His growing sexual frustration sends a surge of wicked mischief through your blood as you crouch on the plush duvet alongside him. Malleus feels the bed shift and your body moving ever closer, then the caress of your hot breath tickling against his neck, near his sensitive ears, just a whisper away. He shudders deliciously as the phantom sensation of your moist, parted lips nears his bare shoulder, sending a chill through his entire body that culminates in a tingling tightness that pulses through his dick, which has reached full mast and throbs painfully in his boxers. Just as he is beginning to move his mouth to admonish you for such cruel teasing, his body suddenly jerks in surprise as he is overcome by the wet and gentle pressure of your mouth suckling ever so gently against his sensitive nape, right in that one spot, the one you know makes his knees turn to jelly. Malleus can't help the startled gasp that falls from his mouth as his body surrenders entirely, arching slightly at the pleasurable sensation, head lulling back just a little. He shivers as your palms ghost across his bare chest in a featherlight graze, sighing as his muscles are soothed by the balmy smoothness of your hands. You seem intent on teasing his neck—tugging, suckling, kissing, licking—and the teasing wet heat and gentle suction against his throat drives him to near delirium. The muscles of his neck tense as he gulps down heavy breaths, and you revel in the sound of him fighting desperately to contain his lust, your mouth quirking up into a smirk against his throat. His head leans back further to grant you more access to his soft flesh, and he resists the urge to stroke himself, biting his lower lip as your kisses start to descend along his pectorals, your tongue teasing at a hardened nipple before continuing to worship him down his abdominal muscles to the dip of his hips and eventually stopping just short of where he really wants it. Malleus is panting, almost as if in time with his throbbing member as it demands attention, yet your fingers remain above the waistband, tempting him.

"Keep going," he commands quietly, craving more than your hesitant brushes, his heart quickening at the sound of your own racing pulse. You have found a delicious torment in delaying him, and his inability to see your next move has caused his whole body to come alive. Malleus bites his lower lip harder, nearly breaking skin to maintain his self control as your fingertips barely push at the elastic band of his underwear, your nails only teasing the thin trail of hair below his navel. The tiniest contact is overwhelming on his skin, leaving a blazing trail in the wake of the featherlight touch, and a trembling warmth deep within him as his desire crescendos. Every part of him is suddenly alert, drinking up the ambiance, the muffled silence only adding an ethereal atmosphere of mystique to his hazy world of arousal and delight. "My love, please give me more," he begs. The strained edge in his voice stirs the rising excitement within you and your core aches at his ardent need. A little hitch in your breath catches his attention. Without the ability to watch your expressions, his sharp ears have begun to strain to hear every indication of arousal from you.

A bratty whine escapes Malleus' pouting lips as you completely withdraw your hands, body heat disappearing as you leave him exposed. The void of your warmth leaves him cold, an abyss to match his own darkness, yet he is lost for words as your mouth finds his erect cock through the fabric of his boxers, swallowing his bulge, the friction of your dampened tongue against him shooting straight to his balls. Your saliva bleeds through the cloth in a thick stain as you use your mouth to slowly torture him, knowing this is driving him insane. A jumble of pants and unintelligible phrases fall from the normally reserved Malleus' mouth and his hands fist themselves in the bedsheets, threatening to rip them in his pent-up ecstasy, knuckles stark white in strain as he groans. Your relentless hot and wet pressure on his erection is turning him into a salacious mess, but it's not nearly enough—he's desperate to feel your skin and a feral growl rattles around in his throat. His instinctive need to seize control of the situation becomes clouded in the heady fog of the erotic pleasure that your touches instill within him, a thrall he's unfamiliar with but too far gone to resist. When he thinks he can't stand the sweetly agonizing tease any longer, your lips pull away, leaving him wanting for your moist, breathy heat to return to him. Malleus whines piteously, squirming in place in silent desperation, fists tightly balled.

Your heart soars when you hear him making these vulnerable little noises of absolute submission to his craving for your body—as much as you know his primal urges are telling him to toss you onto his lap and take you, his dedication to your sadistic game prevents his true lusts from prevailing. He wants to ravage you, to gorge himself on your flesh as you scream his name into his pillows, to bite down on the crook of your neck when he's plunging deep within your hot, aching depth. Instead, he endures his cock's ceaseless torment.

As you contemplate your next course of action, your eyes settle on the enigmatic vestigial holdover from his ancestors—his horns. Growing directly from his skull and twisting in two thick curves adorned with glowing flecks of opulent teal, they frame his beautiful visage with an unmistakable air of eerie mystique. Intrigued by the sharp, slender peaks, you straddle Malleus' lap once again, his aching need nudging up against your clothed sex and making him groan from the limited pleasure he finally receives. He never eluded to any sensuality about the pointed projections adoring his head, but your curious lust can't help but wonder if they're erogenous. It certainly wouldn't surprise you if the fearsome protrusions were a weakness for your beautiful and powerful lover. If they could invoke in him a tantalizing rush of decadent sensation, they would surely aid you in his titillation. His previous words of caution ring in your mind—"You're welcome to touch them… though I can't guarantee what would happen to you if you did."—yet your perversion yearns to test out your theory.

You slowly lean your bodyweight towards his head until he feels you looming over him, your body's warmth fanning over his face and giving a comforting presence to his empty, disoriented world. The hint of a smirk curls at the corner of his lips as he begins to tilt his face, wrongfully expecting a kiss. Malleus had suspected your lusts would soon get the better of you and would ultimately yield him the rapture he seeks. You don't even notice the way his mouth opens slightly, wet, plush lips eagerly awaiting yours. The air between you two is electric with a smoldering, simmering need, threatening to spark into something raging. However, you swerve his inviting kiss, instead placing both your hands firmly against each horn, beginning a gentle massage on the cool bone. You can’t help but grin in prideful victory when a yelp falls from Malleus' lips and he bucks upwards, his hips suddenly snapping with wild impulse in a carnal attempt to sheathe his engorged cock within the beckoning warmth of your tight hole. Malleus' shocked gasp shifts into a guttural, feral sound. His blood is filled with electricity and lust, the lewd sounds emanating from deep within him like a forbidden spell of obscene delight.

The rumble of his inhuman grumble rolls through his entire chest, and the vibration of the low, loud noise goes straight to your throbbing sex. His reaction to you is deliciously intense, and you begin to twist and rub your thumb and index finger around the ridges of the horns, tracing the shapes and sending tiny shivers down Malleus' spine. You watch him, holding your breath in captivated awe as his upper lip lifts into a snarl and his bottom lip falls, allowing another dirty, draconic growl to spill out. The blackness of his vision leaves his mind no choice but to sink deeper into carnal euphoria, his mouth hanging agape and eyes rolling behind his blindfold, the pale skin of his cheeks becoming flushed as he drowns in the overwhelming sensations that consume him entirely. You run your fingernail up and down the sides of his horns simultaneously with a tantalizing tickle, and Malleus' head jerks in your grasp, neck muscles tense with shock from how amazingly sensitive this area of him is. With a naughty grin you plant a messy, wet kiss on one horn, then drag your teeth along the slick surface while your fingers begin a slow, erotic massage where the base of his horn meets the tender skin of his scalp. A downright depraved string of nonsensical, fragmented curses of ecstasy tumble from Malleus' throat. As his primal urge to breed overrides any common sense, the harsh sting of claws dig into the delicate skin of your forearms.

Your caress on his horns is like having the tips of every nerve of his being stimulated at once. His hips start thrusting almost automatically, as though his brain no longer commands him with any sort of reason. His desires take full control, acting on instinct to rut against anything and everything, and a hot ache ripples through his nether regions. The undergarment that traps him from absolute nirvana becomes uncomfortably tight, as his manhood pushes the limits of what the cotton material can bear. A damp and translucent stain of precum has bled through onto the fabric. His mind is swirling with a heady cocktail of lust, love, and urgency—the absence of sight heightening every aspect, every molecule of physical joy, creating a searing, constant arousal deep within him. At last, you have coaxed your regal Prince to reach a whole new state of passion.

You can feel yourself becoming more aroused with each erotic sound you draw from Malleus' throat, as your love for him is mixed with your innate masochism to torture and tease, causing a molten heat to blossom within you. Unable to deny him any longer, you let your lips fall to his mouth and Malleus eagerly reciprocates without hesitation, the heat between the two of you almost unbearable. Teeth clash as he hungrily devours your lips and his arms fly to pull you close so he may sink himself into your flesh and keep you for an eternity, one arm slipping to your lower back and pressing you towards him, his other hand weaving itself through your soft locks. This is what Malleus longed for: the warmth, the wetness, and the sinful slide of your tongue against his. His heart is set ablaze as you grip onto his face, cradling the beloved contours in an almost desperate plea to be as near him as possible, wanting to hold your lover to your body until he melts within you. His deep, sonorous moans of lecherous longing resonate throughout your whole body, echoing in the cavern of your very soul until it makes your heart weep with an overwhelming love and passion. You realize now, more than ever, how dear this fae Prince is to you, how absolutely crucial he has become for your every living moment. As Malleus hungrily chases every ounce of physical sensation he can achieve through the one person that matters the most to him, he feels the exact same love and desperation well in him and pour into his kiss, transmitting his emotions back to you. The blindfold begins to dampen from his overflowing tears as the magnitude of your passion for him stirs a surge of affection and desire that nearly rips his beating heart out of his chest. He clutches you ever closer as a small sob rises up, overcome by his love for the beguiling little mortal whose unconditional acceptance and magical charms have entranced him since day one. You drink up his ardent devotion like a life-sustaining elixir.

Eventually, you break the kiss with a moan and slide off his body, and he mourns your warmth against him, a lonely tear absorbing into the silk. Malleus cannot contain a whimper, as his blood pulses so fiercely, a carnal and primal drive floods his being. It is beyond lust, beyond physical desire—you have reignited the very core of who he is as an eternal, draconic prince and have reminded him of the fire that beats within his breast. His body aches and throbs in equal amounts sexual and emotional passion, his need to release so intense that his breaths come in short, quick pants. His muscles spasm uncontrollably from the sensations running rampant in every extremity, and he sobs with pent-up desire, clawing at the duvet as though it would relieve the ceaseless, tortuous pressure that plagues him. His heart yearns, yet his libido aches, the girth of his dick straining against his waistband like a caged animal desperate to break free from its bindings and let the true beast emerge.

A relieved sigh escapes him when, a moment later, your cool, soft hands dip below the elastic of his boxers and gently slide them down and off. His erect cock slaps against his stomach, weeping pearls of precum and glistening from the prolonged sexual torture of the evening, standing at full attention. Its girthy length twitches with impatience. One teasing fingertip just barely grazes its tip, gathering the beads of lust and dragging them along his length. A strained yelp forces its way out of Malleus' parched and trembling lips, and his whole body tenses, toes curling. The sheets are being pulled in the violent vice grip of his fists, the sheer force of his magical grip threatening to rip them in half. You begin to languidly trace along his shaft at a tantalizingly slow and soft pace, driving him out of his mind. It's barely enough contact to get any satisfaction, yet far more than enough to make him jolt at the blissful sparks that you ignite within him. You ghost your breath across the length, blowing air on his heated flesh as a paltry reward to Malleus' plight. He cries your name in a pitchy, agonized tone as your hands pull away and he tries not to sob with frustration at the lack of touch. Before he can complain, a new, torturous sensation wracks his frame: the phantasmagoric feeling of soft, pillowy lips dragging against the tip of his shaft, eliciting a filthy whine and a throaty gasp. He feels more wet heat around his sensitive glans as your tongue bathes the area with hot saliva, savoring the briny taste of his essence, then leaving him abruptly. You're far too much of a tease, giving him just a sample before pulling away. His balls feel painfully swollen as he reaches his limit and his member seizes with another sharp throb of arousal.

And then, with a wet squelch, the heat of your mouth descends onto the entirety of his rock-hard erection, taking him all in to the hilt. Your cheeks hallow to create suction as your tongue swirls around his engorged tip and your throat relaxes as his length is buried down your throat, holding your breath and stifling your gag reflex for a brief moment before bobbing your head up and down, fucking his hard dick with your mouth and salivating profusely over his thick length. The sweetly sinful sensation of his throbbing erection buried deep down your esophagus causes his mind to shut off, his brain short-circuiting from the intensity of pleasure. Your talented tongue swirls and twirls around the mushroom tip while your hands massage up and down along his shaft, working his flesh in synchronous harmony, threatening to break him down into a quivering mess under the expertise of your skilled mouth. It's absolutely obscene, how willingly your jaw hangs wide for him, how you guzzle up every inch of his thick cock as though he's the best meal of your life.

Now that you have him back where you want him, you take your time torturing him by switching your rhythm every time his groans begin to sound too desperate, denying him the relief his poor aching cock so desperately craves. You gently guide his shaft upright with a tug of your hand, angling his thick cock directly into your mouth and ensuring you completely envelop his tip in your throat. Every time you hollow your cheeks and move his throbbing erection in and out of your mouth at a vigorous pace, Malleus is unable to hold his voice back. He tosses his head back, letting your tongue lavish the underside of his cock. The velvety heat of your tongue sweeps from the base all the way to his glans, lapping across his slit before wrapping your lips around his thick girth again. Your tongue meticulously teases and suckles on his sweet spots, knowing that because of his loss of vision he is acutely aware of every change in pressure, every shift in the path of your tongue, and every powerful stroke of your hand. You have successfully reduced the unshakeable Prince of Thorns into a mess of low moans and ragged, staccato breaths. Your name comes out in pleading pants, like he's calling to you to take his seed and give him the relief he desires so desperately. Your sucking and swirling heat pulls Malleus' balls up closer, tight and ready, his member starting to spasm as his end rushes ever nearer.

"Dearest..." Malleus murmurs as softly as possible, shuddering as pleasure lances through him like lightning, barely audible above the squelches and wet smacks, his hips bucking frantically now, "I beg of you... Please, do not be cruel. I cannot—please." You know how sensitive he is to touch, his every nerve is so over stimulated, and his blindness is making everything hit a whole new level.

"That's enough—hnnnng. This is far too much for me to handle... You're truly evil for using my body like this—oh, do not stop—" A litany of indecencies flow forth in an increasingly erratic rhythm to accompany the melodious cadence of his dulcet moans. Every time you push his length down your throat, he thinks you've given up playing around and finally decided to let him spill his hot load, only for you to relent at the last second and reduce your fervency. He curses your name, promising retaliation later in the form of the most passionate fucking of your entire life. The cruel torture begins anew with a playful kiss on his tip or a lewd slurp at the base of his cock as your hands fondle and caress him. It is almost inhuman the level of control his child of man has to be able to push him close to the edge and retreat with surgical precision, again and again, leaving him in complete anguish.

The hard tip of his cock slams the back of your throat, threatening to suffocate your breath and sending a deluge of saliva trickling down his swollen balls and slickening your lips. He cannot suppress the rough and rapid snapping of his hips against you, plunging his penis to the very end, every lunge making you gag. When you swallow and clench your throat around his length, Malleus' breaths dissolve into frantic wheezes, his chest heaving, unable to even finish his sentence before his lungs are sucked empty in ecstasy. Your hands cup the heavy, weighted balls beneath, fingers and nails digging in slightly before gripping onto his ass as you swallow around his entire girth, pumping his dick in rhythm with his thrusts as if to milk him and show no mercy. Your muffled squeals of encouragement spur Malleus on, the sounds you're making giving him permission to use your mouth like his own personal fuck-toy, his own filthy fantasy. His eyes squeeze shut behind the blindfold as the red, pulsing void suddenly fills with the vivid memory of the look on your face the last time he pounded your face so mercilessly, that wonderful face all covered in his seed, cheeks dripping with his creamy splatter. He moans brokenly as his fantasies meld with reality in the blinding darkness. The sheer act of being able to fully appreciate and wallow in the sense of absolute decadent delight his beloved grants him, as well as your own enthusiasm for him—all these sensations surge forth in a mighty torrent. Malleus knows you're preparing to build him up to a devastating peak of passion.

With a firm yet gentle grip, you dig the tips of your fingers into the ample flesh of your lover's thighs, feeling their toned rippling as you keep him in place. Your fingernails sink a little, creating faint, red trails in your wake, marking Malleus' flawless skin as evidence of your claim over his body. Without warning, his hard length slips out of your wet lips with an obscene pop, and the fae Prince whimpers once more from the cold drafts of the dorm room settling over his sopping, saliva-coated member. 

Before he has any time to register the shock of the loss, the bedsheets shift again under your movements as you swiftly remove your underwear before returning to position on your knees outside of his open legs. He holds his breath, eagerly anticipating the impending penetration of his lover's deepest parts and the messy release of the tight knot of sexual desire within the pit of his stomach. A baritone, satisfied groan bursts from the depths of Malleus' lungs as your warmth encases his erection, sheathing his dick in an endless flow of slippery heat and the most luxurious pressure. It is one of his favorite pleasures to hold you close after having penetrated your deepest core and simply stay there to savor the ecstatic sensations. Nothing can replicate the pure feeling of euphoric fulfillment and unadulterated bliss when your lower half is connected as closely as it possibly can with his—both of your intimate zones smoldering in the ecstasy of total conjoining, bodies becoming one and unified, your souls entwined in a kiss. His toes curl and his muscles shudder, but before he can adjust, you start moving, using your hips to ride his lap.

Your thighs settle snugly around Malleus' hips, your weight rocking forward to penetrate your loins deeper on his member and envelop every inch of him until his hard cock reaches the deepest regions of your core. Malleus can barely comprehend what's going on, his mind drowning in an ocean of the purest pleasure, his hands searching desperately for yours as you place his palms on either side of your waist for a good grip. His lover's palms, made small by the bulk of his own, have only moments ago been manipulating his sensitive erection and granting him such euphoria. To touch the very appendages that have stimulated him, to hold you steady, to feel the love that flows through the both of you—the thrill of the experience sets Malleus' mind into overdrive, the preciousness of his time together with you compounding with his heightened physical sensations in a stunning synthesis. A symphony of sexy, wet noises of colliding bodies, creaking mattress, and throaty gasps and moans echo throughout his lonely, shadowy abyss, and Malleus feels as though his senses are being pleasurably overwhelmed. Malleus shoves his cock ever deeper within, nudging against the slick flesh with feverish abandon. He becomes desperate for an even tighter hold, urging your body to submit to him and drown in bliss. As his dick pumps into your sweet, greedy, and dripping hole with zealous thrusts, your combined rhythm becomes lost to the utter delirium of rapture as the fae's raw instincts to rut you senseless take over. The Prince of Darkness doesn't hold anything back— he thrusts up into your body with full and furious strokes, growls turning animalistic, cock pounding with merciless thrusts, and balls slapping against the juncture of your thighs.

You can barely handle the sheer thickness of Malleus' dick inside of you, its girth is massive. It stretches your walls and massages every part of you, the large ridge along his cock's underside scraping against your insides with every relentless slam. The slightest movement sends fireworks shooting through you and drives you insane, the heated passion causing a powerful buildup of pleasure already. Your gasps rise in volume, turning into shrieks as you give him your body entirely. One of his hands trails up from your waist, the rough and calloused fingertips ghost across your collarbone and up the curve of your neck. His head is tossed back from the carnal fucking but those elegant, sharp fingernails linger over your pulse, feeling the way blood beats under your skin and listening for the hitch of breath every time the angle of his cock rubs up against something magical inside of you.

Malleus is constantly shifting his position, driving his huge dick into the different angles with practiced efficiency as he listens intently for where to thrust harder, to where your breathing is quickest, and where he gets the loudest moans. The noise echoes back to him like the raunchiest opera. It leaves you shaking on him as he explores you with his cock, the sheer intensity of his frenzied ministrations threatening to make your eyes roll into the back of your head. Every single slam of his dick draws you to the edge of the pleasure-bound chasm, as waves of satisfaction ripple throughout every fiber of your being.

His large, sturdy hands have never left your form and cling possessively. When he lets go, it's to scrape his claws down the tops of your shoulders before seizing you tightly once more. With his thighs tense, his strong muscles drive up into you at a merciless speed, over and over. A throttled roar is building in the pit of Malleus' chest. At the top of your lungs, you scream out his name. There is no room for your thoughts, only the constant stream of the lust-drenched fog and the instinctive urge to reach your peak. Malleus' talons scratch down your back before grabbing onto the tops of your asscheeks and forcing your lower bodies impossibly closer together. Malleus bites your neck while simultaneously drilling his cock as deep as he can possibly go before pausing there, grinding into you and groaning. Your bodies move together in tandem, a wet dance that staves off your looming orgasms for a few more thrusts and moans.

Through the blinding white ecstasy, you can vaguely hear the haughty prince remarking how perfectly he fits and feels inside you. Between your moans and the slapping sound, his breathy laugh cuts through the room and brushes hot against the crook of your neck, teasing, "Your insides... tighten when I praise you..." Your walls immediately squeeze him on reflex at those words. This discovery of another weakness brings him closer, more ravenous, a little bit more wild with the need to take and claim. His face buries into your skin and his tongue flicks out against your neck, drinking up the salt of your sweat as he nips, bites, and sucks his mark there. Malleus wants to fill your greedy hole with his seed, mark his territory, make it absolutely clear that you are his forever by stuffing you full until his cum trickles from the very corners of you and soaks into the silken sheets of his bed. He pants and growls lewdly, plundering into you like a heathen and abandoning any sense of shame as he fully lets go of all composure. The guttural moans and bestial noises escaping his throat reverberate like music in your ears. They signal that the gorgeous prince is drawing dangerously near his edge. The primal urges you have summoned from him command his every thought and his body reacts instantaneously to all the stimulation you've given him thus far. Your mouth falls open, wanton moans now turning into shameless screaming. You match the intensity with which Malleus throws his entire body into the movements of fucking your hole. Malleus doesn't allow your body a single moment's rest as he thoroughly ruins you—each carnal rut and frenetic pound of his manhood into your core sets fire to your whole being, reducing your soul to ash in the passion's wake. His engorged, reddened tip abuses your g-spot to the point that your walls can't even tighten around him anymore due to being so utterly overwhelmed by his dick.

Malleus' heart jackhammers against his ribs and a sound that can only be described as a primal, draconic cry roars out. Thick, creamy spurts of his warm seed paint your inner walls white as his balls pulse and churn, filling you up so generously. The depth of your love and adoration has finally ripped the fae's last threads of restraint to shreds, unleashing his true self—wild, uncontrollable, feral—and the transcendent bliss leaves him howling your name in a voice more akin to a monster than a beautiful Prince. You throw your head back, feeling every muscle of your inner body clench in delicious contractions as you, too, reach the precipice, gushing all over him. All you can manage is to sink onto his thick, throbbing cock and just quake with the intense force of your orgasmic bliss, your legs spasming around him as you milk his twitching shaft.

Every wave of your orgasm sends him into his next. Your loud wails of pure pleasure are music to his ears. He growls and thrusts against you, eager to ensure you have been completely and utterly defiled with his load. The exhilaration and anticipation that was building all night finally peaks, and the intensity is just right to leave the both of you in an tangled afterglow of sweaty, quivering limbs. All he can see are swirling spots of magical color swimming in front of the blinding black of his blindfold. Every sense becomes a blurry haze. When he finds enough control over his quivering frame, Malleus holds you up and close to him, refusing to slip out from your body, letting you come to rest against his strong, tender embrace and gently stroking your hair as you nestle your forehead in the crook of his neck, nestled so comfortably between his head and shoulder. Malleus begins peppering your face and the exposed parts of your shoulder with butterfly kisses, his ragged breaths tickling your skin.

"My love..." the Prince purrs as you languidly snuggle into him, "You will never know what you've just done to me. I have felt so utterly and undeniably wanted, needed, desired." His strong arms embrace you, so gentle and loving and soft, it makes your heart beat a little bit faster and fills you up with an immense, powerful feeling. "You have made my existence feel absolutely perfect and wonderful, more so than I deserve." His voice grows thick and warm, full of tender affection as he adds, "Please, cherish me forever. I will pledge myself to you for as long as I live." 

He pulls the blindfold over his head, his eyelids fluttering open to meet your soft gaze and reveal his magnificent, emerald hues and smoldering, lust-drunk slitted pupils. You fall in love with him all over again, smiling brightly as you are greeted by your beloved Prince's elation at seeing your beautiful face once more. Malleus lifts his palm and tucks a lock of your hair behind the lobe of your ear, leaving his knuckles there for a few extra moments as he enjoys the flush and shimmer on your features, admiring the love of his life with all the admiration in the world.

Malleus' eyes spark with renewed mischief and he chuckles mischievously, the deep, smooth sound rolling with velvet menace. "No mortal has ever had this sort of control over me before. The experience was rather... illicit, and strangely beguiling. A little unexpected, however, when you nearly choked me with my own horns." A single sharp claw tips your chin upwards. "How lucky, indeed, am I to be fortunate enough to have you, the first person I ever held my heart out to, be so wicked to me. You were quite merciless tonight." His lascivious grin twists devilishly, and you find yourself enthralled with a certain mix of terror and rapture, unable to keep a devilish smirk of your own from twitching your own lips.

You had known that taking him away from the world for a brief moment of darkness would make his whole body light up like a star and let him truly lose himself to you, but you never would have predicted how viscerally it would affect him. Even so, it pleases you to have fulfilled your fae Prince's perverse needs. You kiss the tip of his nose and he smiles his sharp smile. "Now that you've revealed such a sinful aspect of yourself to me, you'll be the one beneath my power next time we indulge."

The playful menace in his smile doesn't quite mask the serious note in his voice. Malleus is absolutely determined to reciprocate the things he enjoyed receiving in equal measure. It was almost like his own hidden, dangerous desires had awoken when you dragged him down the path of depravity, and a new wave of perversion courses through him at the thought of transforming you into his own plaything. Your throat goes dry, knowing his strength and his kinky side may finally have been unshackled from its cage, and the fae might devour you without the restraint and kindness of his moralities to hold him back. His handsome features betray nothing of his sadistic plans—all you can see are his glorious, flashing eyes glimmering with mischief, and the dangerous upturn of his mouth. There's no telling how much Malleus Draconia has planned for you, and for a brief moment, you wonder if perhaps you'd created a bit of a monster with tonight's exploration.

Let me know if you all enjoyed this! Some Fun Erica Lore™ is that I have total aphantasia—I can't visualize (images or sounds) at all. So, I think because of that, I tend to be very descriptive with my words, since I can't visualize the scene in my head. Also, because I don't have visual memory, I do not remember memories or daydreams in a visual way, instead, I remember them by the feeling I felt in that moment (or the feeling I would feel if a situation was happening to me). Because I feel things so deeply, I like to convey the power of emotions in my writing. I hope I was able to elicit a strong emotional response from you. As always, thank you for reading. Every day, I continue to be awestruck by the outpouring of love and support I've received from you all. Thank you for welcoming my writing into this lovely community. Until next time, 💚 Erica Malleleothreesome

me when the READER in the X READER has a name:

like babe the fic ate but i do NOT look like an Aurora🙁