I Don't Know If Your Requests Are Open But I Adore Your Kiss Fics! I'm Wondering If You Could Maybe Do

I don't know if your requests are open but I adore your kiss fics! I'm wondering if you could maybe do a kiss fic for Sariel Noir?

A/N: Here you go anon!

Sidenote: Kiss requests are always open. If you aren't sure which ones I have already done, there is a masterlist which you can check out right here

Sariel x Reader

Word Count: 545

You wouldn’t expect such tenderness from a man known as a devil. You might expect a kiss that bruises, that presses a whimper from your throat the way a flower-press crushes petals. You might expect the grip of his hands to be punishing, fingers digging into your softness like a trowel into soft earth. You might expect his goal to be pushing you to your limit, to dance you to the very precipice of what you can take, dip you backwards over the edge as dizziness swims through your body. The devil, after all, is heartless, relentless, and flirts with cruelty.

But you know better.

You know the side of him that, if it is a devil, it is of the fallen angel kind. He looks up from the papers piled on his desk as soon as he hears the door open, violet eyes suddenly luminous, their amethyst color shining like sunshine through a butterfly’s wing behind the lenses of his glasses. You approach him and he rises, the tide in its eternal, loving servitude to the moon. No words are needed between you as he opens his arms and you step into them, closing your eyes as the world tilts and he settles back into his office chair, you pulled along and held close to him. His embrace is as much strength, the bulwark of protection from the world’s dangers as it is the gentle, protective curve of a hawk’s wing over its young. He reaches up to free your flushed cheeks of a few wandering strands of hair, his hands cool against your skin. You smile and his breath is visibly caught in his chest, his expression that of a man who wants to resist the allure of looking at the sun directly….and not being able to help himself. You shift within the circle of his arms and stretch upwards until your lips touch his.

His mouth is immediately responsive, the softness of your kiss mirrored in the answering press of his lips. You do not move, sinking into the feeling of his lips on yours, the gentle hum of electricity passing between you, words of devotion and affection unspoken yet palatable. He shifts, tilting his head and catches your lip between his, holding you there a moment. Both of you are still, locked in a sweet embrace, two people in a timeless echo of all the lovers that have ever come before you. You are endless and undying, the moment between breaths, the space between heartbeats, a single drop of eternity shared between you and him. And then your lips move, the moment breaks, and stillness becomes propulsion. 

Your kisses grow less gentle as lips part, teeth and tongues uncaged. Where there was tenderness and peace, there is now hunger and want. Satisfaction and discontent are two sides of the same blade: each kiss both quenches and amplifies the fire burning low in your bodies. He tastes so good, he feels so good, what more could you want.

The answer is easy: You want more and more and more.

You have one last, coherent thought as his teeth drag red lines down the soft skin of your neck, as your fingers slide under his tunic, searching for skin: There is nothing as satisfying as giving the Devil his due.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

✨Taglist Clean Up! ✨

Hi to everyone who reads this blog 💜

Before things really get moving with all the end of the year activities, I wanted to do a taglist check.

🌟If you want to remain on my taglist, just respond to this post. It can be a heart or a comment. If there is no response of any kind within a few days, I will remove you, no questions asked.🌟

If you are NOT on my taglist and would like to be added, please leave a comment on this post or DM me 💜

Here's is an unamused Chev Christmas kitten as a thank you for reading:

Something's on the way.....right @thewitchofbooks ? 😉 ❄️🎁

✦ excerpt from an n s f w wip ✦

I M P O R T A N T ! please don't interact with this post if you are a minor or have no indication in your bio that you are 18+ (or you will be blocked)

A Gilbert WIP as countdown to his birthday!

hii i saw you’re opening requests for tis the season for love! may i request leon with prompt two? thank you so much :3

A/N: Here you are @leonscape !

A fic for the Tis the Season for Love CCC hosted by @voltage-vixen and @xxsycamore

Leon x Reader

Word Count: 651

The salon is bathed in the warm, flickering orange and golds of firelight, highlighting the dark wood and deep reds of the velvet furniture. You are curled up on the end of the couch, one hand holding a small volume of recently translated Tanzanite poetry. The other is running a continuous path through the lustrous jungle of Leon’s rich, chocolate brown hair. He’s laying, long limbs stretched out on the sofa, golden eyes on the fire, listening to you read out loud. He’s not really paying much attention to the words. He just enjoys the sound of your voice, the rise and fall of it, your inflection and intonation, as you earnestly read poems describing feelings of love and loss and loneliness. You’ve reached the final poem and read the last line:

“The indifferent have only one soul, but when you love, you have two.” 

If sighs could have colors, yours would be the softest, most romantic shades of pink and lavender. What a beautiful collection, you think dreamily as you lay the now finished volume down on the end table, lost for a moment in that ephemeral place that a writer leads you to with their words, a place that dissipates like stardust as reality slowly seeps back in.

“The emotions the author manages to convey, the allusions and imagery, the way they describe the depths of grief and the heights of love….” you trail off, your mind still filled with words and phrases and images as you reach for the cup of hot chocolate next to the closed book. “What did you think?”, you ask, glancing down at the head in your lap. No response. The fingers that are still combing his hair stop and then playfully tweak one of the locks that’s sticking straight up. 

“Oi!” he exclaims as he rolls onto his back, head still pillowed on your thigh, his gaze traveling from the firelight to your face. 

“Were you listening at all?” 

His lips curl into a sheepish grin. “Something about love….and two souls?”

The roll of your eyes has him laughing softly, a sound as warm and fulfilling as the cup of hot chocolate you lift to your lips. Yves never disappoints you think as you take a sip of the velvety sweet drink. 

Suddenly the head that was on your lap lifts as Leon pushes himself up, eyes shining now with interest.

“You still have some left?” His own empty mug sits in solitude next to the volume of poetry, empathizing with all the heartbreak within its pages

“Had.” You tip your cup to show him you’ve drained it to the very last drop. 

He tilts his head, at first dismayed by this turn off events, but instead of succumbing to the sadness of there being no more, he is struck by some divine inspiration. 

“I know a way I can still have some.” And then he is leaning towards you, his large hands cupping your face. And his mouth is on yours, parting your lips, a deep, soul-scorching kiss that would normally be kiss number five or six in line and not number one. But he wants a taste of that hot chocolate and will do whatever it takes to get it.

He kisses you breathless. He chases every single bit of chocolatey essence that clings to your lips, your tongue. By the time he is done, you’re left dizzy, your heart spinning wildly in your chest and your mind as melted as the chocolate in your drink.

“We must tell Yves,” he murmurs, “how much we enjoyed the hot chocolate.” You’re both sliding down the couch, his body covering yours in a way that sends a promising heat cartwheeling through you.

“Oh we will,” you answer, wrapping your arms around his neck, admiring the gold of his eyes, the flame in them miniatures of the roaring fireplace. “In the morning.”

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart