Canon V Fanon, Dunmeshi Edition

Smooth Moves

🌹Wally and Barnaby teach you how to dance🌹

(Takes place in Alive AU from my A Silly Thought and More post)

Posted later than intended rip

Some mood music for this writing. POV playlist

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It was late at night, most of your guests were inside fast asleep while you, Wally, and Barnaby finished up making space on the large porch. Barnaby was insistent that he and Wally teach you how to slow dance when you mentioned you've never danced before. Plus you two needed to figure out who was doing what tomorrow. Winner gets to choose after seeing who dips better.

"Alright, so if I win I get to pick what we do tomorrow. And if you win you get to pick what we do tomorrow. Deal?"

You held your hand out to shake on it, but Wally gently grabbed a hold of it and turned it over to plant a small kiss on the back of your palm. Heat rushed to your cheeks as the two of you parted ways to opposite sides of the porch. You wished you could just hide away in a corner right now until your cheeks looked normal or at least pretend that you were fine.

You slowly looked over to where Wally was, he was staring at you still, eyes half-lidded and a droopy smile on his face. That cheeky little bugger.

Barnaby walked up to the center of the porch and held out his paw towards Wally. "Hey buddy, I think we should show em' how it's done first, it's their first time right?" His voice was a cheery as usual, but something felt a bit off about it tonight, it had a deeper tone to it. "That it is, maybe we'll each get a turn with our host?" He peered over at you as he took a hold of the beagle's paw. "I sure hope so, I love dancing with new partners!"

Barnaby leaned to the side where a table was and quickly pressed the play button on the stereo you had given him the day before. He loved that thing to bits.

The music started out slow and steady as the two began to step and sway along with the beat. "Make sure to match up with your partners movements...like this." They both swayed to the far right, then the left, both of their feet being in sync perfectly with every single step. Clearly these two practiced frequently. The music went on for a while as the two circled, swayed, and danced around in patterns. It was so smooth that you almost felt hypnotized into a daze, only snapping out of it when Barnaby and Wally slowed down into a large dip. Wally, ever the dramatic suave, put one leg up as he was dipped down. "There, it's as simple as that!" Barnaby looked over at you and gestured for you to come over. You shook your head though, now too nervous to really put yourself in a spotlight like that.

"Ohh? Is someone nervous now?" Wally teased, hanging off of his friend's arm lazily. "It'll be fine, we can both teach you at the same time if you want!" Barnaby butted in, seeing how nervous you looked. Maybe his new friend needed some more encouragement.

"Alright...I'm not good at dancing though so I might step on someone's foot." You did not feel confident in yourself quite frankly.

"That's okay." The two pals separated as Barnaby went to go behind you and Wally right in front of you, boxing you in. "Besides, now you can have two partners!"

You felt the soft blue paws grab onto both of your hands and guiding them, placing one on Wally's shoulder and one on his hip, Wally mimicked the position on you in the opposite direction. Barnaby spoke up "Now remember, try to match your partners movements and just let us guide you until you get used to it." You nodded and looked down at your feet making sure they were in the correct position, missing the knowing looks the two had with each other.

"I think our dear host will catch on quick, won't you?" Wally smiled sweetly, giving your hip a small squeeze as you looked back up, earning a small squeak. How adorable of you. They wondered what other noises you could make.

It started out just like before, Barnaby having restarted the song and returning to being behind you. You stumbled a bit for the first few steps but you caught on quickly, seeing the pattern more clearly. It also helped to have two giant soft paws behind your back in case you tripped or fell.

"Wow, see! You're catching on already!" The blue friend continued to encourage you. "Now this part might be a bit harder, you'll need to swing your hips with the movement of your feet. Let me show you." Barnaby gently cupped your side and helped move your hips along to the rhythm of the music as Wally kept your shoulders in place. You stumbled though, having a hard time trying to match your footwork with theirs.

"Here, like this..." Wally spoke up and his friend backed up a little bit for some space. He took hold of your hip once more, this time more gently. "Just copy what I do."

He put one foot to the side and you did the same, allowing Wally to control the movements of your hips with his, one step at a time, one sway here and there, a few twirls, and it was like you were an expert at this. You didn't even notice that Barnaby had gone to sit down, locking eyes with Wally to give him a big thumbs up. Or the small crowd of friends standing by the back door watching the two of you.

The music kept going. The longer the two of you danced, the more you started to feel yourself getting used to this. Suddenly, Wally guided you into a deep dip, exaggerating his position into what that of a lover would be as the music came to a slow stop. He leaned in closer squeezing your hand in his. "I believe I won, yes?"

Hi! Can I request Kyojuro with a s.o./crush who'll get really excited about something and start rambling, but then suddenly stop talking because they've been told they talk too much? And the s.o./crush is worried he'll think they're annoying? Thank you! I love your writing!

(hey there hun!! thank you so much, i'm glad you enjoy it!! ❤️ and honestly just reading this ask put a little smile on my face because as someone who rambles far too much, i definitely relate far too hard with this, lol ^^; thank you for your request!! i hope you like it! my apologies if it feels a mite short, and that it's so late :') ❤️)

kyojuro x reader (in which reader rambles and kyojuro loves it)

kyojuro may not be sure what you're talking about a lot of the time, but he does know that he could listen to you talk for hours, regardless of whether he understands or not. it's not always about what you're saying. it's about how you say it.

every time he asks you a question and your eyes light up, he feels his heart skip. watching you go through a range of emotions as you talk, making sure to express absolutely everything you feel with your hands and your face and your body language so he knows exactly how much it affects you, it makes him smile like a smitten fool. and your voice itself is the prettiest music to his ears, one he could listen to forever. even if you don't feel the same about him, he's proud to at least call himself your friend.

so when you suddenly go quiet in the middle of a story you'd been telling about your last mission and press your lips together, your hands freezing in midair before slowly lowering down, he snaps to attention. he'd been leaning his cheek against his hand, watching you with a soft smile, but now he sits up straight.

"...and then what happened?" he asks, noticing how you jump almost guiltily, avoiding his eyes. "surely that isn't the end of it!"

"i, uh..." you wring your hands together, avoiding his gaze. normally it’s him that won’t look at you properly. "i don't want to... bore you or something. it's really not that interesting, i don't even know why i'm telling you. you probably don't even care. sorry." it takes him a moment to truly process what you’re saying, and when he does, his slight smile drops.

he’s been told countless times by countless people that he never seems like he’s listening. airheaded, they called him. he thought you would have known by now that even if it seems like he isn’t, he always pays rapt attention to your conversations, even if he doesn’t quite meet your gaze or speak very much. he can’t look you in the eyes too long without getting flustered, after all, and he enjoys hearing your voice more than his own.

“i apologize,” he says, “i’m being a terrible audience, aren’t i?” if he hadn’t bowed his head, he would have seen your bewildered look. “i can assure you that i was listening very closely! even if it didn’t seem like it! i treasure every word you speak, and i apologize that i made you feel any less than appreciated!” the quiet that falls is awkward, but he doesn’t look up until you clear your throat.

“you-you don’t need to apologize,” you say. when he lifts his head, he sees that you’re blushing, staring at the ground. “i just didn’t want to bother you, is all. i know i talk a lot more than i should, and that it can get really annoying when i don't stop.”

“who told you that?” he demands, cutting you off before you can continue. odd. he never interrupts. you blink.

“oh, um. people?” you gesture vaguely. “a lot of people. i just... i’m sorry. you’re one of my best friends, and you’re too nice to tell me if i’m annoying you-”

“do i annoy you?” he interrupts, smiling, and your words stutter for a moment.

“of course not!” you manage to get out, shaking your head.

“you don’t believe that i’m too loud? i’m not too cold or indifferent or distracted? i don’t act too superior?” he smiles wider when you shake your head again, waving your hands to deny further and varying versions of “no” spilling from your mouth. “tell me, then. how is it that you think i find you to be a bother? to tell the truth, i find your ramblings very endearing!” he leans his cheek on his hand once more, watching your lips open and close as a light flush spreads over your cheeks. clearly, that hadn't been what you were expecting him to say.

"do you really?" you eventually say, tentative but hopeful. he gives a single firm nod.

"very much so! i would even go so far as to call it the best part of my day!" he lifts his other hand, turning it in a gentle circle, gesturing for you to continue. "you were saying? the demon leaped at you, and then...?" you fidget in place, visibly chewing on your words. he waits patiently, his smile never faltering.

eventually, he's rewarded once again with the soothing sound of your voice, rapid and excitable and sometimes indecipherable, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

So Close (L x Reader)

A/N: Requested by @god-like-eyebrows (and technically @lilredbird101 who asked me a while back to do more L pieces)! Hope it’s to your liking!

Keep reading

NSFW Alphabet ft. Yandere! Rengoku

& Afab! Darling

18+

Wanted to make more yandere Rengoku content so I did that smut alphabet thats been going around

Warnings: Smut, Suggested Non-con/Dub-con, Sex, Oral, Implied Anal, Toys, Breeding kink, ect. ect.

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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Man is spent. He’s never half-assed anything, so by the end of the rut, he’s already panting hard and dripping with sweat. Honestly, the quality of the aftercare varies from day to day (and depending on his mood.) If he’s up for it, he may take the time to clean you off with a wet cloth, wipe away all the cum from your cunt and rub some ointment on any bruises or bites. But most nights are spent dripping with nut and warming his cock, clutched to his chest like a vice. He can always clean you up in the morning anyway.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your tits.  He likes looking at them. He likes holding them. He likes feeling them. He loves sucking on them. It just makes him feel so… safe. Now if you were producing milk at the time, there would be no separating the two. But he loves the rest of your body as well, he just has a fascination with your rack specifically.

As for himself, he enjoys his own chest as well. He enjoys keeping you close to sleep on it, feeling your breath near his heart, praying that the organ can somehow coerce you to be as obsessed with him as he is you. But besides the metaphorical reasoning, he knows his pecs are soft and wants you to lay on them like a pillow.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

If he were to play that word association game and his word were to be “cum”, his immediate answer would be “cunt”. His brain is set to maximum primal instinct. If he sees your pussy, he’s gonna cum inside it, and he comes a lot. If you were under some previous assumption that he’d cum just anywhere, that’s on you, darling. If he’s gonna cum, it's gonna be in your sweet, tight, warm pussy, right where it belongs. Sure, he’ll shoot the occasional load in your mouth or ass, but he’s always scooping some up and shoving it up your snatch, pressing it into your walls and fantasizing about your egg accepting his sperm. It should be pretty obvious why.

He wants every drop locked inside of you, keeping all his little babies warm while he panders you with attention and love. If the purpose of semen is to impregnate a womb, why would he want it anywhere else? Look at the bigger picture here.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It turns him on to see you cry. He doesn’t mean to! The last thing he would ever want is for you to be upset or hurt, but something about seeing you so pathetic and vulnerable does something to him. He finds himself “accidentally” being too rough with you, “accidentally” hurting your feelings, “accidentally” neglecting you. Oh, you look so pretty when you sob, fat tears pooling down your red cheeks like drops of rain on a window. And it just winds him up all over again. He can always cheer you up afterward, right?

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s not too experienced, but he’s sampled here or there. Truth be told, he wasn’t all too big on the idea of sex before you. The act itself was just to pass the time, maybe relieve some stress. He’d never met someone he’d imagined settling down with before, and that made sex a bit… disappointing. Until he met you of course. Kyojuro made sure to do some more research before he swept you away. Studies, videos, books, you name it. He didn’t really care if he was doing things right before. But, like I said before, he doesn’t half-ass anything, especially when it comes to his little darling. And considering how he can turn you into such a hot mess in a matter of minutes, it's safe to say his efforts have paid off.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl.

Kyojuro usually does the majority of the work during the deed, including remaining on top, but once every blue moon, he throws you on top and gives you a hard slap on the ass. Giddy-up bitch. Having you on top, bouncing on his cock so deeply, so slowly, it's such an intricate pleasure. Intricate as in it feels like he’s being milked like fucking cow. He feels the way your cunt squeezes him on the way up and glides so carefully back down, glazing his shaft and sucking the milk straight from his balls, begging him to unload his potent seed right where you need it. He likes to imagine your life depends on it. Doesn’t it?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s tried from time to time, but has found you don’t react very well to it. His goal was to make you more comfortable, but it was fairly obvious that the only thing that would make you “comfortable” was to avoid sex entirely, which wasn’t on the table. He wasn’t about to let you spend your days celibate and bored when he could be pleasing you as you deserved. He’ll still giggle from time to time, but he tries to be fairly serious, so he can focus on giving you attention. But he still does wish you would lighten up to make things more fun.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s fairly groomed, but his happy trail is pretty messy. Thick and coarse, you can feel the unruly hair scratch against your clit when he plows you into the bed at night, rolling his hips lazily to feel every inch of your velvety cunt and doping himself out. You have to bite your lip to keep yourself from whining, your delicate bead overwhelmed by the sensation of pain and pleasure. Blowjobs are even worse as you’re always finding yourself plucking stray pubes from your mouth, gagging at the sharp hairs. You wish he would just shave.

Does the carpet match the drapes? Absolutely.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s very… intense, is one word for it. There’s no resting periods, no breaks, just ongoing, continuous, lovemaking (fucking.) Kyojuro may need to pause every once in a while for a refractory period, he only has so much cum after all, but even then he still touches you. Sucking on your clit, maybe fingering his seed back into you. He likes to keep himself busy. As much as he tries to be romantic initially, telling you he loves you, complimenting your beauty, comforting you, he always falls back to his primal self, dirty talking, moving too rough, biting you. So swept up in the moment, his instincts do all the talking as he holds your hips down to the bed and just starts humping. There’s not much you can do during those times besides hold on for dear life and blink your tears away. But you can’t deny the effort is there. Sometimes you go to the bed for the night only to find the room littered with rose petals and candles, a naked Kyo sitting up against the headboard with his thighs spread and cock bobbing between them. You already know it’s going to be a long night.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t. The pleasure is miniscule compared to having the real thing (you), and even when you’re not with him, he still doesn’t indulge. He’s adamant that it’s wasteful, if not selfish. Why waste a good load into his hand when he can give it to you? 

But before he’d met you, he’d touched himself quite often, mostly from pent up frustrations and the constant overproduction of semen in his balls. He’d do it everywhere - in bed, in his car, in the bathroom at work - there was constant ache in his belly that grew with each hour his hand wasn’t fisting his cock. He’d never really understand back then why he was so insatiable until he’d grown to love you. After that it was quite obvious that his primal body was heavily focused on the need to breed and fuck his babies into his destined love. Even if the feeling was… less than consensual.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding, Daddy, Breeding, Praise, Marking, Breeding, Pet play, Overstimulation, Breeding… Did I say breeding yet? Kyojuro is into pretty much anything when it comes to you but these are the main ones you have to deal with. His fascinations usually fluctuate every couple of weeks, one week he may be especially gentle and kind with you as he uses only his tongue to tease and edge you until you can beg daddy to let you come, and another he may tie you up with your face buried deep into the pillows and your ass high in the air as fills you up with what feels like gallons of cum. If you’re smart enough, you may realize your own actions have an influence on what he’ll be into for the week - if you’re well-behaved and clingy, he’ll be soft and patient, wanting nothing more than to spoil his little girl, but if your… difficult, all he’s going to be in the mood for is a more torturous pleasure for you, treating you like his little cumdump that he can use all he’d like. It’s really up to you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers the bedroom. Kyojuro has no problem doing it elsewhere, but his preference will always be in the comfort of your shared king-sized bed. Something about being so intimate in such a safe place feels so nice to him, and he wants you to feel safe too. He doesn’t need you getting anxious in the kitchen or on the couch that he’ll pressure you into intimacy. There will be the occasional kiss and grind, but he likes to keep it PG around the home. But the moment you even step foot into the bedroom, be it to change your clothes or grab a belonging, it's fair game. Maybe he’ll follow you in there for some alone time, maybe he won’t. It’s anyone’s guess.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Any hint of consent on your part has his body on you before you can give any objection. Smile at him? Consent. Touch him unprovoked? Consent. Make any noise of satisfaction when he’s with you? Consent. Just the thought of you needing sex and having that need fulfilled by him makes him go absolutely crazy. Psychologically, thats the only reason he feels comfortable doing anything to you - he convinces himself you always want him, vocal or not. You say no? You’re just shy. You insult him? You’re insecure. You start crying? You’re overwhelmed with happiness. He truly thinks you want him, you want his kisses, you want his touch, you want his cock. And it doesn’t help that you can’t stop yourself from coming in his grasp no matter what you do. He thinks your rebellion is just a phase. Maybe it is.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sharing. While jealousy of another does often rile him up and lead to some hard fucks as punishment, the actual vision of you being with anyone other than him is an immediate no. Why do you think he has you locked away? He loves you of course, and the past is in the past, but as of current you belong to him, and that means your body is only for him as well. He doesn't even take pictures of you in fear that someone may wander on his phone and see them. Your body should only crave his, after all his body only craves yours! Isn't that only fair? But he does try not to be hypocritical. He lets you know of every woman in his life with no secrets, immediately cuts off the ones who try to engage with him, he even offers to let you check his phone if he thinks you are getting jealous. However, don’t go about pointing fingers either. He takes accusations of cheating very seriously. Get mad at him and say a girl at work is flirting with him? Expect to hear of her arrest on the news for tax fraud, theft, bribery, ect. - anything that has her in cuffs and tears being escorted into the back of a police car to be locked away for decades while you suffer the punishment of being forced into orgasm after orgasm until you can name 100 reasons why Kyojuro loves you and would never betray you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He enjoys both equally, but he prefers to give, for practicality’s sake. He knows blowjobs are hard for you. Even when your plush lips do manage to stretch around his thick girth, you can hardly take much in before you start gagging and choking. He still likes to watch since it’s so cute when you have to give up sucking to kiss and lick the tip while your hands do all the talking, but even then it's only an occasional pleasure. While blowjobs are every week or two, cunnilingus is everyday. He doesn’t even penetrate you until you’ve come at least once or twice on his tongue, and he even takes breaks during sex just to eat you out again. For him, it's a meal and therapeutic. Just having your ripe little nub in his mouth has all his problems melting away so he can focus on how delicious and sweet your slick is coating his tongue. And don’t even get him started on how warm and comfortable it is between your legs, some nights he even falls asleep with his head on your thigh, mid-lick up your slit with your clit pulsing under his tongue. But then again, he wouldn’t mind falling asleep with your mouth warming him either. It’s up to you really.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He usually starts off slow, tries to warm you up first and get you stretched out and needy. But it usually dissolved into him frantically rutting into you, desperate to get you fucked out enough to cling to him and beg. But he does prefer your reactions to when he goes slow. He likes how your eyebrows scrunch together and you purse your lips, how you have to take deep breaths to keep yourself composed, how your cunt gently contracts around him and gushes every time he fills you to the brim. The experience is just so much more authentic when he takes his time molding you around him and leisurely building up your orgasms. But that's not to say he doesn’t enjoy a bit of rough housing. It's usually after your umpteenth orgasm, when you’re babbling and drooling, eyes tired and lidding, that he begins increasing his pace and thrusts harder, your eyes shooting open from shock. You're already so smooth and slick from all the creampies, so it's easy to go a little harder and give less than forgiving strokes into your heat. He doesn’t get too rough, doesn’t make you bleed or bruise to an inappropriate extent, but he does prefer to leave a mark. His mark.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Meh, he’s not privy to them. Kyojuro prides himself on long ruts, and quickies don’t really fit his criteria for the correct way to make love. He thinks every session should be intimate and lengthy, prolonged enough that you’re too tired to make a fuss when he wants to cockwarm or cuddle you afterwards. Quickies aren’t bad… they just aren’t good either. He’ll always want more, and doesn't want you to feel used afterward when he hasn’t made you lose your mind with ecstasy. He does give a quick grope or caress your breasts, ass, or pussy every now and again, but that’s as far as it goes. HOWEVER - if you were to ask him for it (yes, I know, crazy) he would give you a quickie and hesitantly leave you be afterward. Of course, this scenario has never happened before… because you don’t ask.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Of course! He’ll bring home random toys, outfits, or bonds from time to time to experiment different kinks and fetishes. He’s even offered to let you do things to him! (Although you’ve never taken him up on that offer) He wants to try everything with you, just to see if he or you are into something you’ve never tried before. Given, it's not very often that he tries anything unpredictable, but he does every month or so. However, he doesn’t take any risks that would give you the opportunity to escape, per say. Tying him up is a no-no, drugging him is a no-no, giving you weapons is a no-no-no-no-no. But he will let you do anything else to him, and he certainly does whatever he wants to you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It depends on how long it's been since your last session, how much energy he has, and what condition he’s in. But if he’s in perfect health, he can usually last around 10 rounds (cumming 10 times). Of course this number can be lower or higher depending on outside factors, but that’s the average. One day he may come once and be done for the night, another he may be so pent as to last 15+, it all depends on circumstance. Each round usually lasts for 30-45 minutes, again this may be shorter depending on depravity. As for you, you always lose count of your own orgasms no matter what.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He owns several - dildos, vibrators, plugs, you name it. He even has a couple of strap ons for you to use on him if you’d like but you’ve never indulged. He uses them on you from time to time, usually in his more adventurous phases where he wants to experiment more with your body, but he also leaves the drawer full of them available for you to use at your leisure. There are times where he’s gone longer than he would like to be and would prefer if you have toys to please yourself in his absence. He even has a replica dildo with his exact shape and size just for you to use when he’s gone. He unfortunately isn’t quite sure you even use it during those days as you’re always insistent that you don’t and would never (but much to your own horror and guilt, you do.)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases fairly often, as that’s his sense of humor and it gets him riled up. From his experience, that’s the best way to get you to be more active during the deed as you squirm and eventually beg for him to give you release. Luckily for you, he very easily gives in to your pleas and always gives you whatever you want right away. Whether with his words or his actions, he loves how you react to his teasings, how your face burns and your mouth falls open with frustration and embarrassment, it's so cute. Especially when he teases you physically, drawing weak circles with his tongue on your clit with a feather-like pressure that has breaking so quickly, wrapping your legs around his head and shoving him deep into your pussy to get the attention you so desperately need, but he always just smiles and tucks his tongue back behind his lips just to kiss against the crease of your lips before unwrapping himself from you and starting all over again. The only way he ever stops is if you use your words and tell him exactly what you want. He wants to hear you say it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He can get pretty damn loud. Who is he silencing himself for? You're the only person with him that will ever be with him for the rest of your lives, so why would he keep quiet when he can tell you exactly how good you make him feel? He wants to let you know just what you're doing to him, how crazy you make him feel, how obsessed he is with you. During the slow beginnings of your rounds he will keep himself down to an appropriate level, moaning and groaning softly into your ear, whispering sweet, sweet nothings and praising you, but when the storm of it all hits, he makes sure to howl in euphoria, shouting loud for the world to know that he is the one who obtained you. He whines and whimpers just as much and he grunts and growls, and, if you listen very closely, you can almost hear him purr after he nuts. And don’t worry too much about neighbors or passerbys hearing, he soundproofed the whole place long before you arrived.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Similar to the original Beauty and the Beast, he asks you to marry him constantly. While he knows it would be impossible legally since you’ve been missing for quite some time with authorities on the lookout, he more so asks for romantic purposes. He even has been planning for the event since day 1! But he’d make changes to it if that's what you wanted. Truly he just wants the role of being your husband rather than your lover, as it all comes into play for his ultimate goal of getting you pregnant. While he doesn’t enjoy you being on birth control at present, he allows it for the sake of normalcy as he finds it would be improper to have children before marriage. But if you would just say yes to his proposal that would change everything! You have yet to accept, but he’ll give you time to love him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s about 6.5 inches long soft, 8.5 inches when hard, with about a 7 inch girth (6 when soft). He’s a big boy.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very. Very. High. There’s pretty much no limit on when he can have sex or be hard, all he needs is some… motivation. Just seeing you relaxed on the couch in your sweats when he gets home from work is enough to get his pants feeling unbearably tight, ideas flooding in about what he’s going to do to you after you both eat dinner. And dear god can he last for hours. There hasn’t ever been a single time when a session has been less than an hour, and by the end of the rut, you’re already so tired that cleaning up simply isn’t an option. For him, there is always an eternal ache in his belly from all the cum he produces, so having a good outlet (you) has done wonders for his health. It doesn’t help that his high drive has affected yours as well, making you far more horny on a daily basis than you used to be. How you aren’t dead by now is a mystery.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty much right after. He uses up every ounce of energy he has during sex so by the time you're both done and covered in liquids, all he wants to do is cuddle and go to sleep. He’s out in maybe 10 minutes? You’re not really sure since you’re passed out as well.

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Chaos’s Queen

My Navigation and Masterlist

Pairing(s): Chaos!Arthur Pendragon x Fem!Reader Summary: Arthur shows you what you've been missing out on as Queen. Warnings: Smut, consensual sex (CONSENT IS SEXY KIDS), oral (r! receiving), cunnilingus, throne sex, major overstimulation, fingering, Arthur using his chaos power for sexual uses, body worship (maybe?), praise kink, slightly degrading terms (but no name calling such as slut, whore, etc - I will cry), pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart, darling, my queen, your highness), slight choking kink, throne kink, crown kink, lots of eye contact, no use of (y/n). Word Count: 3,630 Extra Notes: Arthur is in his 30s in this fic, just like he was when he had the chaos power and is the King

HISS HISS PEOPLE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION.

Your eyes looked back and forth between your lover's and the doors of the throne room you stood outside of. Arthur had a sweet smile on his face as he led you through the doors and into the room. It was empty inside, safe for a few servants cleaning and polishing the throne, the gold shining and sparkling with the final rays of the setting sun shining through the room’s windows.

“You’re all dismissed.” He said in a cold tone even though his eyes and smile remained locked on you. “Except you.” His sweet smile transitioned into a smirk and a shiver ran down your spine.

You knew that look.

As the last servant left the room, the throne doors slammed shut by an invisible source and the room’s windows were covered by curtains that were not there a moment before.

Oh god.

You were really in for it.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you come here.” He gently took your hand in his large hands, calloused from years of sword-holding and battle training but soft in their touch for you. Leading you to his throne, he motioned for your to sit. You hesitated, confused, and opened your mouth to speak when his hand reached out and his thumb ran over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly and trapping your words in your throat. “Just sit,” His thumb left your lips only to be replaced by a slow kiss from his own. “Tonight,” He started speaking, mumbling against your lips. “Tonight you’re the one getting worshipped.” He gently moved you as he kissed you again until your knees backed up against the edge of the throne and pushed you back, making you lose your balance and fall onto it. He smirked, looking down at your slightly disheveled state, flushed cheeks, and the edge of your thinly strapped dress falling off your shoulder, revealing your neck and collarbones to the king’s eyes. Both his hands fell to the armrests to support himself as he leaned down and trailed his nose up from the slight bit of cleavage your dress showed and over your collarbone, stopping momentarily every second to leave teasing kisses along his path that left you breathy and panting, up to right below your ear.

“I’ve had an idea for a while now that I’ve been just dying to try,” He whispered hotly into the skin where your jaw met your neck. “I’ve just been waiting,” he nipped at your skin, “and waiting,” and again, “and waiting,” he growled out before lightly biting down into the crease of your shoulder and neck. You released a low moan at the unexpected act. You felt his lips move into a smirk before his tongue dipped out and he smoothed it over the bitten skin as he released a low moan of his own.

He backed up suddenly and you almost let out a yelp at how you fell forward to chase after his touch. His eyes lit up to see how desperate you were slowly becoming for him.

Taking a moment to take in your appearance once more, he let out a hum of satisfaction before smirking and staring directly into your eyes as he knelt to one knee, and then to the other until he was kneeling before you. His arms rested on the small space beside your thighs the throne gave him, his thumbs just barely grazing along the silk and mesh fabric of your golden and white dress as he leaned in and pressed his face into your stomach. Grazing his nose up and down, going further down each time, reaching closer to where you needed him most. His hands moved from the throne to down where your dress ended at your calves and started lifting it slightly which made your breath hitch.

“You always look so damn good in these dresses, dressed like a queen and looking like one too,” He practically moaned out as his nose hovered right above your arousal and he took a deep breath in. You whimpered at the praise. “It’s about damn time you got treated like one too.”

“Arthur,” you breathed out so softly you were even sure if he heard you but when he tilted his head up to look you in the eyes with a teasing smirk you knew he had. “Arthur, please don’t tease me,” you begged, your voice only a fraction louder than your first call of his name.

“But you sound so sweet when I tease you, your little breathy moans like sweet music to my ears every single time,” He suddenly stuck his nose right up against your clit through your thin dress fabric and a surprised gasp left your parted lips.

As you continued to whimper and plead while he continued to tease you, he finally had some mercy on you and brought the lining of your dress up to your thighs. Looking up at you in a moment of softness, he looked into your eyes with a concerned and questioning look, silently asking for your consent. You gave him a small smile and nodded before leaning down slightly to give him a slow, light kiss. Just as you were about to lift your hips to help him take your dress off, there was a gust of wind, forcing you to close your eyes. When you opened them your dress was nowhere to be seen. Your body was left bare except for your matching set of bra and panties.

You shivered as your bare skin touched the cool surface of the golden throne, but the light touches from calloused fingers warmed your body instantly. He slowly trailed his fingers up your legs, touch so light it felt feathery. Starting at your calves, his fingers danced higher and higher, drawing light circles every once in a while. Reaching your thighs, the touch started to get heavier. Rougher.

He started kneading your outer thighs, still refusing to touch anywhere that would give you the stimulation you needed. His kisses traveled down from the crevice of your neck to the valley between your breasts, leaving bite marks and kiss stains littered across your skin.

Finally. Finally. His kisses stopped and his breath hovered over the, now damp with your arousal, fabric of your panties.

With no warning, he shoved his face into your dripping cunt and started licking at you through the fabric ever so slowly, still wanting to tease you until you got so desperate you started begging with everything you had.

"Arthur, please!" You whined as he pulled his mouth away and blew cold air on your drenched undergarment.

He smirked.

Pulling your panties down past your ankles and across the room with your dress, he shoved his mouth into you again. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked roughly sending an intense wave of euphoria throughout your entire body. Your back arched and you moaned loudly. Your hands reached out to grab onto his hair before they were grabbed by cold gold hands and restrained against the armrests of the throne chair.

He tsked and smirked as his chaos power activated, "No, no, sweetheart, just relax. Today is all about you," He spoke directly against your clit, the vibrations of his words sending jolts through your bones and tingles to the back of your head. "You've been working so hard recently," He licked at your clit between his words, continuing to give you pleasure while praising you. "Training with the new guards," another lick, "Helping me calm down whenever I get too stressed or angry," and another, "Sitting with me through those boring meetings that make me want to rip my hair out," His lingering frustration over his duties as a king slipped out through his actions. His tongue got rougher, his lips wrapped around your clit sucked harder, and his fingers that were holding your thighs apart for his assault on your sex gripped stronger.

He brought you to your first orgasm like that.

Your moans echoed throughout the room as he continued his movements to ride you through your high. As your body slowly relaxed into the golden frame of the throne once more, his tongue continued to lap up the remnants of your orgasm. Being overly sensitive from the said orgasm that happened barely moments ago, you squirmed against his strong grip.

"Arthur, ah, Arthur please, agh, it-it's too much," you moaned out as your lover's tongue continued to bring you to heaven and back.

“Gods, you taste just as good as I remember, so sweet. It's alright pretty girl just sit back and let me do all the work. You deserve every ounce of pleasure I give you," He ignored your pleas and activated his chaos power again to grab hold of your thighs for him and hold them apart to keep your struggling against his tongue to a minimum. Your legs shook as his fingers slowly glided up their way to your inner thighs and caressed the treasure in between. His tongue came off of your clit with a wet popping sound and you moaned - whether in relief or desperation, the answer was unknown - only to be replaced by his thumb a moment later.

You cried out and your head fell back against the gold as you looked down at the man between your thighs only to see him staring straight into your own with an intense look. You blushed and attempted to look away only for another hand to appear from behind your head and force you to look into Arthur's eyes. His purple ones twinkled with mischief and lust while yours shined with embarrassment and overwhelming pleasure.

His middle finger glided back and forth over your folds, reveling in how wet you were before slipping it in without any resistance. You gasped and your mouth was left open in a silent moan as the pads of his finger pressed right against the spot inside you that sent you into the clouds. Without taking his finger out, he allowed it to just sit inside you and rub against the spot over and over again. His eyes never left your face as your mouth released sounds of pleasure, your eyes closed, your head rested against the back of the throne once more as the hand holding your head up released you. He admired every feature of your face as it contorted in pleasure and felt a warm sense of pride flow through him straight to the tent beneath his golden armor pants.

"Does that feel good, your highness? Does my finger feel good as it brings you to bliss? Do you feel powerful? Having the former King of Camelot, the King of Chaos kneeling before you, dedicating his every moment to you and your pleasure? You lucky girl. Anyone, man and woman, would kill to be in your place. And yet here you are. Sitting on my throne while I devour you. Over, and over, and over again." He kissed your stomach as he spoke, his lips whispering over the skin and causing your muscles to contract in anticipation. Your breaths were heavy as you looked down at the King below you, ready to serve your every need and give you everything you want and more.

Your legs shook as his finger started entering and exiting you slowly. In and out, in and out. Again and again. He continued that while his thumb drew tight figure eights on your clit.

His face lowered and he roughly and suddenly drew a harsh bite at your thigh. You gasped, a loud, surprised, aroused sound, as you felt both pain and pleasure from the act. He brought his lips down onto your clit again, licking a painfully slow lick from the small part of your entrance not occupied by his finger to the skin above your clit. 

“You’re so pretty, such a hard worker. Ruling over my kingdom with so much grace and elegance. You’re starting to make me look bad with how good you’re doing. And looking so delicious while you do.” You keeled against the seat as you heard him continue with the praise, whimpering when he said you were doing well. 

“My perfect queen. I think I’m the lucky one. Getting to have your precious, sweet, delicious cunt all for myself. Oh, and look how wet you are all because of me. You are absolutely divine.”

You clenched around his finger as he continued to shower you with compliments and praise. He smirked into your clit. He knew exactly what he was doing by the words he spoke. The way your face flushed, your walls clenched, your eyes closed, and your hands gripping into your palms gripped harder was a dead giveaway. 

“My pretty queen, you’re just too perfect. Pretty cunt tastes so sweet, I simply can’t get enough of you.” He groaned as your thighs tried to squeeze against the iron-tight grip of the stone hands and around his head. 

“Flawless.”

White, hot, searing pleasure overcame your body. The orgasm that had been approaching went completely ignored as all you could focus on was the praise coming out of your lover’s mouth as he hand-delivered more ecstasy than you could take on a silver platter. You shivered as the bliss ran through your blood and settled in your bones with a distant buzz. 

He watched you shiver as he slowed the pace of his fingers so they barely felt like they were moving. Pressing a light kiss to your clit, he let out a low chuckled against the bud when you jolted. 

“Arthur! Ah, please Arthur, ah, please. I can’t take anymore, it’s too much, ah, please.” He laughed as you begged and pleaded with all your being. Wrapping his entire mouth around your mound, he gave a large, wet, suck, and watched in amusement as you cried out that it was too much, as you pleaded for a break.

“But you deserve it, all your hard work doesn’t go unnoticed. Not by me nor by anyone around us. I’m just trying to give you a proper thank you. You do so much for me, the least I can do is please you. You’ll be good for me, won’t you? I only want to please you, darling. Just be good for me, I’ll make you feel so good. Won’t you be my good girl?” His mouth lifted off of you to look up at you, his expression like that of a kicked puppy. His look made you give in, and in your hazy state, you failed to see the twinkle of sadistic lust in his eyes, reveling in the way you shook and cried out at each stroke, each pump, each action he did. So little movement was needed at this point for you to feel unbelievably high on the tight pleasure that circled around in your gut, the feeling intensing with each touch. 

Your eyes had closed and your head fell back against the gold, your breathing uneven and heavy as you tried to focus on what he said. A sharp bit to the crevice of your thigh and hip made you yelp and look back at the king between your thighs. Purple eyes narrowed in command despite the sugary sweet, soft smile he sent you, a slight display of dominance that most wouldn’t see. “My darling,” he spoke with a tinge of demand hidden deep within the softness of his tone. “When I ask a question of you, I expect an answer. You want to be good for me right? You want to be my good girl?” A second finger slid past your folds into your entrance unexpectedly. He gave a quick hard thrust before stilling completely, waiting for your answer. 

“Yes! Yes I’ll be your good girl, I’ll be so good just… just please, oh gods, please.” You begged as he started moving his fingers inside of you, faster with each second that passed until all you could feel was euphoria, the utter state of elation as the coil in your core built up for the third time of the night. 

Arthur could tell you were getting close again by how much your walls were squeezing his fingers, making it more difficult to move. “Squeezing my fingers so tight, are you close my love?” 

“Ah, yes, yes so close,” Your moans came in higher pitches and more frequent as your release drew nearer. 

“Then cum. Cum for me your highness. Make a mess on my fingers and tongue. Spill your arousal on my throne. Every time I sit on this chair I’ll remember how I brought you to your release until you screamed my name,” His lips wrapped around your clitoris again as he locked eyes with you. “And that is exactly what I intend to do.” 

Your eyes widened before shutting tightly and your mouth fell open in a loud moan as both his tongue and fingers sped up, finding your g-spot on each thrust and making your body burst with euphoria once more. 

He rode you through your third orgasm before abruptly pulling away and your eyes snapped open at the shocking movement. Your breathing slowly started to calm down as you looked at him. He stood in front of you. Staring down at you with an almost anomalistically hungry look. He raised his eyes from where they racked over your body to stare into your eyes. Slowly bringing the hand he used to finger you to his lips, he sucked on his fingers and licked the evidence of your lust off, his eyes never leaving yours. The throbbing around your entrance had just stopped until he smirked and said, “You look ravishing, my dear.” 

A heartbeat after he spoke, his chaos power was activated again and the hands restricting your hands let go slowly, only for your bra to come flying off and your hands being locked above your head. A loud gasp escaped your lips before another one interrupted it as your thighs were quickly moved back and your feet landed on the edge of the throne, your pussy being put on full display for the King of Chaos as he continued to smirk. He slowly, agonizingly slowly, walked towards you and leaned towards you, his hands gripping the top of the throne to keep his balance. He brushed his lips against yours before a weight was placed on your head. He placed a light kiss on your lips before leaning back and taking another moment to admire you. 

“You look radiant with my crown resting on your head, your highness.” He sunk to his knees again and your cunt clenched around nothing. 

This, he noticed.

His tongue licked a long stripe across your folds before swirling around your clit for a moment. As soon as you started to think he was going to bring you to another orgasm through clitoral stimulation only, he stuck his tongue right into your hole. You let out a mix between a yelp and a moan and felt him reach parts deeper than even his fingers had. Your head was too muddled with the feelings he was giving you to realize he was using his chaos magic on his tongue. Even if you had realized, you would have just been more aroused by the fact. With the constant feeling of his tongue against the spongey spot inside of you and his nose brushing against your clit with every thrust, your release didn’t take long to arrive. The crown shaking around on your head almost fell off with how much your body was shaking. Just as your high came down, your legs were brought over Arthur’s shoulders, the cold stone hands no longer restricting them. Your thighs squeezed around his head as he buried his face into your cunt with vigorous sucks and licks, anything to bring you to another exhilarating release. 

“Come on, darling. You can give me one more, can’t you? Just one more. Give it to me. Give me just. One. More.” His voice was rough as he spoke into you, vibrations sending you to cloud nine as you reached your final orgasm of the night. 

Giving a few slow laps at your entrance, feeling you twitch and hearing you whine and whimper at each one, he lifted his head from you. Your legs fell limply from his shoulders and the hands restricting your wrists released you. 

Looking down at him, his eyes held nothing but admiration and care as he looked back at you. You gently, with a bit of struggle while still being in a post-orgasm haze, lifted your palm to wrap it around his cheek. You rubbed your thumb along his chin, whipping what had collected there onto your thumb before tapping Arthur’s bottom lip. His eyes widened in surprise and a tinge of returning lust as he opened his mouth for your thumb to slip past. He licked and sucked at the finger as you admired him. 

When you slipped your thumb from his lips, they turned up into a soft smile as he reached forward and wrapped you up in his arms. Wrapping a cape around you, he lifted you and walked through the castle up to your shared bedroom and into the bathroom. Wetting a towel, he dragged the cloth across your body, wiping off the sweat that had accumulated throughout the night before leading the cloth to your, still-sensitive, entrance and cleaning it. He shushed you as you whimpered. Once he finished, he wrapped you in your softest nightgown and laid you down in bed, pulling you close as you lay with your back pressed against his chest. He nuzzled his face into your neck. 

And they all lived happily ever fucking after.

The end mfer

A little late to the trend, but who does my MC look best with? I have a fav but we shall see who she is destined for.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

fuck me like i’m famous

popstar! rafayel x female reader

in theory, attending your favorite popstar’s after party seems a dream come true. for you, it certainly is. in reality, though? it doesn’t live up to it- at least not innocently.

content popstar! rafayel, nsfw, smut, dubcon, fingering, disillusion, mc learns why idolizing celebrities isn’t wise (by being banged by one during his afterparty), yandere & obsessive undertones, 18+ characters

sidenote hrm… was supposed to be a lil drabble but it snowballed into almost 5k words. hopefully the fishie girlies will like this lil meal tho since he’s kinda a rare sight on the blog 💔 rafayel is freaked the fuck out in this deadass... also i literally had nothing better to name this but i believe chase atlantic kinda fits raf’s vibes here so :,] OH & THANK U FOR 600 FOLLOWERS I LOVE YALL ♡♡♡

Lights glitter on his face in the after party.

You don’t know what you did to earn God’s favor in this life, but whatever the reason, you’re thankful for scoring yourself that ticket. He’s all you listen to; a staple to each of your playlists. And so for what Thomas did- gifting you a special pass he had as an extra to your favorite popstar’s show- you’re ever in his debt.

He might be his publicist; that spare ticket may mean nothing to him. Alright, but-

It might as well mean the whole world to you.

Girls crowd his spot on the couch. It’s decadent: the room bathed in dim, yellow lights as the drinks, generously taken from, sparkle on the table before it. He kicks his long legs out on it and stretches an arm behind the woman at his side. She’s beautiful, scantily clad, all of them are- some curled up to his shoulder, others drunkenly twirling around the room- and because of it, you feel a little out of place.

In jeans and a band tee, you weren’t prepared.

Not for this.

One part of you is positively gushing at the scene that unfolds around you, deciding you could die in peace now that you’d finally experienced one of his concerts, especially in such an exclusive way. Still, another part of you, dwelling low in your belly, twisting like a bad gut feeling, quietly thinks, Has Thomas mistaken me for a whore? Perhaps it’s wrong to think that of those girls... But you also don’t believe they’d take any real offense to that if they were to hear your internal back-and-forth, because they seem delighted to put on their shows for him.

They can’t be blamed, right? I mean… It’s him. Rafayel. Everybody and their mom would trip over their own two feet trying to get an audience with him.

Still.

You ball your fists in your lap.

A-Are you even meant to be here?

Rafayel was always bold on camera, yes; flirtatious to a fault. Sure, he was a playboy and you were aware of that, the whole community was. Really, it was integral to his charm.

But this—

One of the girls giggles when she stumbles over her high heels and into Rafayel’s lap. It’s convenient. Too convenient: even if she’s only half aware of her surroundings, in for a bad hangover tomorrow morning, she still manages to go flying right towards him. You know the purple-haired man must be aware of it too, her frolicking stunts.

Nonetheless, he catches her in his arms before she topples, and he laughs, too.

It’s a pretty sound. Then again, everything about him is. With his dyed, lavender curls and the softness to his otherwise coy face, the little moles dusting it and his glossy, pink lips— he’s beautiful. All the more in that outfit. Cheeky but not enough as to be scandalous. His stylist and his designer have your applause. Clearly, they know what they’re doing.

On stage, he’d seemed playful, but was able to keep his gallivanting at bay. With a wink, though, all that sex appeal just oozes out, and—

It’s weird. How you can spend so much weeks and months and years idolizing somebody, and then suddenly have all that worshipful intent collapsing in a breath. Within the span of not even an hour, you’ve become so disillusioned with this celebrity- your all time favorite- that you can hardly bear to look at him and his wanton display.

Sat on the armchair opposite of it all as it takes place, deathly quiet, you begin to feel sick.

Is this really him?

You knew he was a flirt, yes, but- but what the hell is even this? Is this what he demeans himself to after each show? Just some cheap manwhore with his hand-selected throng of groupies, sipping away at an expensive wine just moments after he set the mic aside after a love song you’d thought to be heartfelt—

Your glass, the one a suited man offered on a tray and you took only to mimic the others, remains untouched before you.

This is startling. And far from your preferred scene.

M-Maybe you ought to go home. And soon. Is what you’ve been thinking for closer to thirty minutes now, and yet you’re too nervous to speak on it. I mean, maybe if you just stood up and left, nobody would notice your slipping out— the room is far from bright and everybody’s buzzed on something, anyway—

Marbled, coral-blue eyes stare at you over the rim of his glass, and they glint with something you think is mirth.

Curiosity, alongside it.

It makes you second guess yourself. Taking your leave.

He’s been watching you for a while now. Even when the stunning women gather in a flurry around him, tugging on his hair and teasing with whispering breaths in his ear, his attention doesn’t remain on them for long. It drags back to you and, for all the distractions occuring around you (the stereo playing an all too familiar song, the drunken chatter, the unease in your chest), he’s impressively focused.

It’s unnerving. It’s divine. He’s all you listen to in the car and in the shower and in your bedroom when you’re dancing to his newest album in an oversized sleep shirt and panties. You’ve cried to him and laughed to him and now he’s here, in shocking clarity, and you were so so excited, rambling about it to your girlfriends for months, but now you’re not so sure of what you’re seeing. If you like it.

He seems less god to you, now; oh, still heavenly, still angelic, for sure, but he toes more along the line of something wicked— like a cherub fallen.

And you can’t find it in you to get up and scurry out even when that’s all you can picture yourself doing in your head, escaping.

When you catch his eye again, you dip your chin (not out of reverence, no longer, but rather unease) and bite on your lip until you taste blood.

So when he lifts his hand with a snap then, the girls pouting as they crawl off him, dissipating no different than fog- you’re ever thankful for the opportunity to finally get up and leave, too—

A voice chimes over itself, layering over the familiar song playing in the background.

“Hey- wait up, cutie.”

You pause when you belatedly realize it’s calling for you.

As if your legs are stilts, you turn around hesitantly (strange: because really, shouldn’t you be happy he’s noticed you?) and try to lessen the shock on your face- even though his amused little smile tells you it’s as clear as day.

He laughs pleasantly, playful to a fault.

“What’s that silly face for? Oh, IIIIIII see, you’re feeling a lil left out, is my guess. Here,” he pats the cushion beside him and you actually blanche. For a moment you think your heart has stopped beating and those thumps you hear are the drum beats in his song as it drifts through the now empty room.

Save for you and Rafayel, it’s completely barren; the better part of its energy has left with the dancing girls but whatever remains of it, he holds.

You eye the spot beside him, unmoving.

An excuse, you realize right then— you can still spit out an excuse.

“I-I’m not one of the girls,” you stammer with a wince before clearing your throat, “I- I don’t even think I’m really supposed to be here.”

Another laugh, and a dismissive wave of his hand. You try to make yourself laugh too if only to appease him, your idol- endlessly nervous.

“Oh, well that’s just untrue,” he teases. “C’mon, don’t be shy~! I was just playing around with the others. It’s just you and me now, so no need to feel all nervous,” he assures, the image of harmless as he crosses his leg over the other and waits.

You blink rapidly. “I—“

You’re about to spew out a feeble rejection and that’s when his face drops.

You’re not sure, for all the records and posters and billboards you’ve seen of his face, if he’s ever made that expression. Not on camera, at least.

He lowly murmurs, “Aren’t you a fan?”

“I-…. Well-….”

A fan? For years now! His number one! A stupid girlish voice in the corner of your mind shrieks, and you almost dredge some joy out of this whole thing.

Letting out a shaky sigh, defeated, you creep over to him on equally shaky legs and take the spot beside him— all with great hesitance, though.

His pretty face alights again. Some of the pressure loosens up, even if only by a little, and your shoulders relax by a smidge.

Maybe it’s fine. Maybe you’re crazy and this is how he interacts with all his listeners no, no it’s not. Or maybe this is just a normal, celebrity thing and you’re blowing this way out of proportion here.

Just like he did with that other woman- that other likeminded fan or plaything or- or you don’t know- he loops an arm around the back of the couch behind you.

…What’s different, though, is that, unlike with her, he rests his hand on your shoulder and hugs you closer to his side. Clinging.

Rafayel smiles. Charming. Frivolous. With a glint in his eye, intense and engrossed, that’s weirdly sober when taking the half empty drink he sets down on the table into consideration.

“There. Good girl. So tell me, pretty,” he starts thoughtfully, fingertips twirling your hair as he leans into you. For the popstar that takes very little seriously, you think he appears awfully interested in some no-name girl who happened to score herself a limited-time lanyard to see him sing.

You swallow thickly. In the back of your mind, thoughts race. So does your heart. You might explode.

H-He didn’t act like this with the others— did you somehow present yourself in a way that made him think he could take more than what the others let him? More than what the others practically begged him to, but for some fucking reason he wouldn’t—

“Did you like the show?”

“Y-Yeah.” You don’t mean to whisper, but a certain, resigned silence is what you’ve been reduced to. His other hand stretches across his body to rest on your thigh.

Rafayel hums. But before he can speak, you- rudely, might he add- cut in. “I- I have to go home soon, so-“

Amused, he snorts. “Relax, alright? Tonight, you’re a very important person, aren’t you? Home can wait,” he muses, so close he’s near nuzzling your cheek.

A very important person? Funny. You’re just another fool bouncing around amongst the nosebleeds- a face he’ll be hard-pressed to catch and certain to forget. Honestly? This whole facade of his is as cruel as it is unbelievable.

Gradually, he’s letting you down.

Your throat bobs. Almost a bit bitterly, you remind, “I- I know you’re a popstar, but we’re still strangers. You don’t have to feel like you need to entertain me or be nice to me.”

“Huh. You’re one smart cookie,” he wryly comments before giving his head a tiny shake, almost more to himself than to you. “Um, look, cutie, you’re definitely no stranger to me,” his words leave you dazed because they sound genuine. You snap your head up to look at him, needing to gauge his expression and fish for deceit. You… find none.

He smoothly continues. “But I guess I’m no stranger to you either, huh? And tonight, you’ll be like, extra acquainted with me.”

✦

It’s difficult.

-When he’s hovering over you and gently pushing you onto the plush cushions into a half-lying position, to not only push him off but find the strength to.

Physically, Rafayel’s no hulking display of power, but he’s intimidating all the same. Mentally, he’s more or less your idol and although he may not hold too much weight in stature (still, he’s stronger than you), he still holds enough golden trophies to decorate a shelf— and too much influence for you to really comprehend.

Or try to toy with.

…You should want this. Should want to lie down and offer yourself up to him with eagerness— it should be like a blessing and yet you’re hesitating.

…Why are you hesitating? A voice in the back of your head, the one that had raved endlessly to her friends about the upcoming concert, asks perplexedly. You’ve no answer. But the man atop you seems to wonder much of the same, too; his brow twitching just slightly with what you think to be dejection before he tilts your chin with long, slim fingers to kiss you and it’s gone.

He moans into that first kiss. Prettily and soft.

Heat flutters in the core of you, your body involuntarily responding to him even as your eyes snap open and shift to where the door is- or where you think it is (have the lights gotten dimmer? or is he just all you see?)- his palm tugging at your hair softly to lie you down.

His lips are plump, pink, just as gentle as they look as they meld against yours— definitely aroused, there’s no doubt there, his warm breaths tinged with needy whines- but there’s an odd affection in them, too. Something personal and doting.

When he tries to slip in tongue, you reel away but there’s nowhere to go. Not really. Not when your head finally touches the cushion and he lets out a small, disapproving sound before giving up on that goal- for now- and attacking your neck instead.

It’s good. Delicious; that perfect mouth knows its way around a mic and a lover, you suppose- suckling and kissing and nipping with the barest amount of teeth as if he’s intent on leaving a mark.

You can’t hold back on it anymore— you drop your hands that had been hovering awkwardly on his broad shoulders, mewling in response, and he shivers.

“Yeah, cutie, make some noise,” he chuckles mildly. You think back to the auditorium. The roaring cheers and shrieks, the phone lights waving in the air and the mist rolling beneath his feet as he sang.

His hand descends down your belly, and you’re brought back to now.

It’s more instinct than anything that has you clamping your legs shut as soon as his fingers reach the denim. He tuts at you, and yet the glimmer in his eye is… endeared, almost.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t shut me away now,” Rafayel scolds, thought it lacks any real bite. Still, your lashes flutter and you stare agog at him.

Like this, he’s positively gorgeous as he props himself up mere inches away- albeit his little grin can almost be considered vulpine. “Didn’t I put on a great show for you out there? Don’t tell me I get nothing in return,” he pouts, tone light but what lies under it is a layer of desire. Opaque and thick.

Hesitantly, you mull over his words. I mean, you just really want this to be over- so to hell to with it, maybe you should just submit yourself. The sooner you appease the playboy with what he wants— that is, some nameless girl he perceives as cheap enough to get on her back for him— the sooner you can leave and pretend Thomas never gave you his special ticket.

The popstar’s words turn comforting as he watches you carefully. “If you’re shy, don’t worry. I’ve seen it plenty’a times before, you know.”

Bigheaded, you think then. Bigheaded but he has every right to be.

Maybe if it was any other guy bragging about the chicks he fucked and scrutinized, you’d throw up in your mouth— and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t cringe a little on the inside— but it’s embarrassment for yourself above all that stirs in your stomach. It joins the butterflies as your cheeks warm over.

“Now,” he continues, his familiar lilt flattening into heavy, breathy lust, “All I want is to see yours. I’m sure your pussy is pretty, cutie- really,” he convinces.

A tremble. “So pretty.”

Oh, you’re erupting on the inside— heart snapping like a snare drum in your chest, overpowering the faint music and drowning it out- your hand shaking where it weakly closes over the back of his own, now only half trying to drag it away.

He hammers the last nail into your coffin. With a ragged, but gentle breath and- as he leans in- a surprisingly chaste peck to your lips, appreciative of what he has before him.

“Won’t you show me it?”

But jaw slack, you hesitate. And- Of course you hesitate. The reasons for your deliberation, that weird gut feeling, become clearer and clearer as seconds progress:

Firstly, he’s the image of fame- and if you were to deny him, if he said the smallest word over it, your whole entire social life as you knew it would backfire on you. The possibility of his saying mean things on the internet hangs in your mind. Rumors circulating, as untrue as they are vivid, coming to bite you in the ass. For as many hours as you’ve spent watching and listening to Rafayel, you don’t know his true colors (as evidenced by right now); that includes what a wounded ego would look like if you rejected him.

Secondly, you hesitate because—

Because he’s perfect. Much like an idol on a pedestal, carefully set there with a singular light overhead to define him and him alone.

In a dark room, all look to him.

Once- an hour ago- you did, too.

Maybe you still do. You don’t know. There’s a whole bunch of feelings (confusion, awe, a betrayal that makes you question just how parasocial your relationship with him was) swirling inside you, none able to be grazed or grasped, and it shakes a part within.

“Please?” He breathes, ever headstrong.

…Your rationale is headlong, falling into the abyss with a word.

“O-Okay,” you all but squeak out. It’s the best you can manage. Rafayel’s breath hitches at that, though, your given assent, no matter how feeble, planting satisfaction deep in his chest.

And so with that he’s swiftly undoing your jeans and rucking them down your thighs.

It’s less out of good will that you help him shimmy them off you, to a bunch above your shoes, and more so eagerness to be done with this whole thing.

When he tucks his knuckles beneath the waistband of your panties- cutesy cotton put on full display for him, perched above pretty thighs- he curses under his breath.

His hands are as big as a man’s but as soft as a woman’s. His fingertips are dutiful as they brush along your folds, as singleminded, hungry, as the former.

…But when they nudge between your pussy lips and at your tight hole, his thumb prodding expertly at your clit, it’s like he has all the awareness of the latter.

“Ah, you’re so wet…” he muses aloud. Very pleased with his discovery.

His eyelids, dazzling with some glittery shade his makeup artist applied prior to his show, droop and don’t meet your flustered stare as he focuses on the space between your legs. And he takes it upon himself to rid you of your panties, too: for as adorable as they are, Rafayel knows it’ll be ten times better for you both if he can just-

Finally fucking see for himself what you’ve got goin’ on down there—

Undies midway down your leg, he comments, “you’re really hyped up after the show, huh?” His exhale is a shaky sound. His gaze is utterly fascinated (and perhaps a touch unnerving, what with its intensity) when it bounces back to that soft dip below your belly.

You’ll give him this much credit— for as wild as that glint in his unblinking stare becomes, he’s fortunately gentle with you.

He wets his lip absently. “Yeah… it gets me going, too. All the lights and cheering faces... Feeling the bass vibrate up from the floor. Can I be honest, though, cutie? When Thomas- oh, shit-“ he shivers when he inserts a digit in- his pointer one- and your hole instinctively clamps down around it, juices glistening to the base of his knuckle as you try not to squirm.

Y-You can’t believe this is happening. Your clothes are all in a disarray- the only piece intact, actually, is your tee that just so happens to be merchandise of the popstar that hovers over you now with his hand between your legs—

You blink back to real life when he sharply inhales.

“…When Thomas told me you were comin’, I made absolute sure to know your standing. That way, I could find you easily in the crowd. I was gettin’ so worked up just looking at you. Could you hear it-? My voice began to shake.” he chuckles, voice euphony to your ears. Familiar in its lilt but not in its timber.

His words stun you. They don’t make sense- is this is all some cruel, sick game after all-? Or- Or maybe he’s mistaking you for someone else? or he’s just choosing a really weird, admittedly screwed up way to let off some steam. God knows, what with his recent album built on the back of unrequited love, he needs the stress relief—

But no. He continues on like nothing is amiss, like your heart doesn’t plummet to the tips of your toes at his offhanded admission, and you forget how to breathe.

“When our eyes met- you looked like you were doubting yourself, but I really was staring at you, you silly girl.” Again, he’s fucking laughing, albeit this time, it takes on a more self-deprecating tone. You witness, almost unseeing, as his facade crumbles in increments. More and more he undoes it by the seams- much like he is with you.

“I was… Hm. I was even singing about you. All those stupid pining love songs— who do you think they’re for, princess?”

A gasp punches out from your lungs. You don’t know what it’s for- his nonsensical confessions, or his handling as he stuffs in another finger (you could’ve used some more working up to it, sure, he knows, but he’s a little impatient tonight) and scissors you open.

Wet shlicks ring in between guitar riffs. Your essence flows all over his knuckles and the numerous- horrifically expensive, you realize- jewels lining them. Rafayel doesn’t seem nearly as appalled as you do, though... If anything, aroused.

It feels so good. He’s hitting that spongey spot inside you just right. It’s a surreal experience, so much so you almost feel like you’ll coalesce into a dream at any moment. The melody playing in the background, the opulent couch as it groans beneath you with every piston of his arm, the twinkling, but dim lights and his face. That picturesque, idol face.

“Here, I’ll tell you the answer…” he leans over you to whisper in your ear, subjecting you to all the charm of a siren. You’re helpless to it ‘cause you’re just a girl.

“You. Always you.”

You’re dizzy. Your head is light but your lower half is heavy, the inner portion of your thighs numbed and sticky. Your limbs tingle but all you can feel is his lips tenderly suckling at your neck and your gushing walls as they constrict around their intruder.

Though they, too, ease up on him. He’s good at disarming you. That’s how you were walking in here, anyway, disarmed and beyond yourself with excitement.

Rafayel moans over you, finding a great amount of pleasure in the whole ordeal.

“You gonna cum? yeah?” He’s sweet, purring in your ear, making sounds as pretty as a girl- maybe even more so. His voice has won awards for a reason. You recall binging musical ceremonies on the internet and shrieking as soon as his name was called to stage, his seeming nonchalance as he accepted an accolade…

Yet you saw his ears, too, the tips of them red under the resounding applause, and wondered just what or who it was that had him bowing his head to the camera—

“A-Ah, mmph- Rafayel, please—!” You choke, fingers curling into his shoulder. In response, he lets out a pleasured, breathy sound, all encouragement and delight in his eyes.

“Mhm. Go ahead. Cum. Cum, pretty girl, all over my fingers. Oh- I really wanna taste you- will y’let me taste you afterwards?” He’s moaning unabashed as you come undone at warp speed. It’s shameful and your cheeks toast over but you clamp your eyes shut and choose to bask in the feeling of it all as it overwhelms you.

He’s good. So good. Masterful with it, really. Not like any of the bungling guys who courted you for all of one date (the more patient: two) before ripping your pants off and sticking their fingers inside without prompting or even half the skill to back their confidence.

No- he’s every bit qualified and then some.

Your nails dig into his clavicle. Rafayel doesn’t care- if that pinch of pleasure between his brow is the least bit credible, maybe he even likes the sting.

“Good girl. There, good girl.”

It’s building inside you. He works you up progressively, rapidly, and it shows in the little gasps you make that fall back to back, the L shape you make with either of your legs as they hitch up around his hips and quake, the ball in your gut that suddenly hardens before—

“Ngh— Rafayel-!”

You scream. Louder than the music. Louder than his words of encouragement, sugar-sweet, hungry, susurrating as they spill in your ear. He sensually nibbles on it and wraps his free hand around your head- with a misplaced affection, you think- to anchor you throughout your climax. He manages to keep you grounded there on the couch but only barely.

Your mind does slip off to another place, though, floating in white oblivion for a number of seconds as your limbs offer small trembles.

Rafayal takes close to nothing serious. So the light, but bubbly laugh that draws you back to consciousness with a sigh is fairly appropriate.

What isn’t is his touchiness as he drags you to sit on his lap— boneless; your skin damp with heat, your damned pants still cuffed awkwardly around your ankles— and croons into your neck. Holding you close like a lover would in the after glow. But this isn’t the after glow, this is the after show. But then again, if his earlier words were true- the ones that barrel back into you with clarity, the haze dissipating- then…

But no. No, how could that be? Those songs aren’t about you— and when you met his eye during the opening, and all the times afterward, you were sure it was just your imagination, especially after the fan beside you threw up her arms and cheered as if his stare was for her instead—

You might know Thomas (very vaguely- more of a friend of a friend you’ve seen at a few get-togethers; you follow him on insta), but that doesn’t mean Rafayel, the man he works for, should know you... I mean, you doubt they hang out often, anyway. Especially not since Thomas would more or less be viewed as the king of no-fun in the popstar’s eyes.

His whole job is to assure that Rafayel keeps his lips sealed tight: you can’t imagine that he’d be loose with his own by chatting with him about you, a girl he’s not all too familiar with but knows just enough to throw a spare ticket at.

So there’s just no way any of this is true.

Half of you expects Rafayel to shove you off his lap at any second, snap back to the reality that you’re not the woman he mistook you for, and flusteredly point you to the door. The other half of you is like it’s waiting for him to pull out his cock (it stirs underneath your ass, hard and by the feel of it, very excited) and take all that’s left to.

He moves your hair aside your shoulder and rubs along your back, instead.

And he whispers in your ear (or into your neck, really), his warm breath fanning there as he says like it’s a vow:

“Wanna see you at my next show. Better be there.”

Your throat bobs. As he speaks, you try not to focus too much on the fluid that oozes from your pussy lips and onto his expensive, designer slacks- but that’s no easy task when he seems to want for that, slightly lifting his hips up.

“No. Before that, even—“ he pauses for a moment, seemingly deep in thought before smiling, resolved. “Oh, I know- I’ll have Thomas help get you settled in with the tour bus. That way, you can just be on the road with me.”

You gawk. Whatever he’s saying doesn’t reach you; you’re only receiving that garbled bits of it, like a radio interpolated by static between voices. Your palms lift to his chest and push there softly.

Smoothly, he takes them in his own and kisses the knuckles, peering up at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky, giggling.

“Doesn’t that sound just great, cutie?”

“I- wait, you-?”

“I’ll name my next song after you- my next album, even!- and then we can go public immediately.” You can recognize it for what it is, even coming from someone as frivolous as him.

A promise.

“The fans will love you,” he says excitedly before leaning in and smushing a kiss to your damp hairline, murmuring there with a fiery tinge of what you think is devotion. “But not as much as I already do.”

He fishes into his pocket, then, one hand still securing your waist.

“Lemme give Thomas a call… I guess he kinda deserves my ‘thank you’, too, huh?”

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 ♡

𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧(𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬)

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘮𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘵.

ℕ𝕊𝔽𝕎 𝔹𝔼𝕃𝕆𝕎 𝕋ℍ𝔼 ℂ𝕌𝕋

𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀: 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗸(𝗦𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆), 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘔𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘉𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘬(𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥), 𝘉𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘙𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘚𝘦𝘹 (𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥), 𝘚𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘚𝘦𝘹, 𝘊𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘔𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴 𝘗𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘚𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘜𝘴𝘦, 𝘚𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘈𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘳(𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵)

𝕀𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕕𝕠 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕥!

》Chaos Daddy, yes Chaos Daddy, is King of Camelot which means he can have whatever he wants whenever he wants. He chooses to spend his time using sex as a stress reliever. And Arthur has a lot of pent up stress so...buckle up people it's time to hit the road.

》Let's get this out of the way first.

》No matter what you do, Arthur is always going to ask consent. Whether it is to cum inside of you or if its to kiss you. He's always asking and it's sexy as fuck. He's the King of Camelot, King of Chaos, and the King of Consent. Chaos Daddy will not fuck you without a definite yes. No matter how possessive he is, how jealous he is, how fucking desperate he is, he's going to ask.

》King of fucking Consent-

》Arthur is constantly stressed, little things sending him off the rails due to his new powers. With Chaos now as his new power, he has heightened senses. The tiniest things that his lover does can set him off. It could be the way they walk or the tiniest tease of a lick to their upper lip. He will whisk them away and have them up against a stone cold wall in no time.

》If he has his arm regenerated, it most likely resembles something of his old arm. It's just maybe black and clawed like a demon's regenerated limb. I'd say sort of like Derieri's.

》When he's finally gotten his lover in a private corner, Arthur is sure to use his body language and hands to show them what he wants. Hands wandering along their body, groping and squeezing the squishy parts of their flesh.

》A sign that he wants sex could be him gripping his partner's thighs. Honestly, Arthur is a thigh man. Drilling into his partner from above, he grips both hands into their thighs and splits them apart to the point where their muscles are getting that delicious stretching feeling.

》There's always a hand on his partner's thigh because Arthur does not quit. He will have his hand on their thigh when eating them out, using his tongue to lick along their entrance and eat them out with such skill.

》Chaos daddy likes to fuck his lover from behind in a mirror so he can see their expressions. Eye contact is a big thing for Arthur because he loves to see the expressions that his partner makes. Their faces and noises get him off, causing him to just fuck them harder than before.

》Arthur has a major breeding kink due to him being a king in all. He has to eventually have an heir and the idea of his lover being swelled with his seed makes him go crazy.

》He will often go for 3 rounds of sex when he's up for it. These aren't just sexual rounds, its a 'session' for him. He wants to ensure that his lover knows that they are his. He will be fucking them, cum inside of them, keep himself inside for a few moments, and then go for another round with his release still inside from the previous sessions.

》 The dirty talk is real-

》"You're so lucky to be filled up with your King's seed...Be a grateful bitch and take it~!"

》"You're my loyal slut..."

》"Tell me you want my seed. Tell me you want me to cum inside of you...~ Beg me for it~..."

》"If you want to come on my dick then beg for it..~" 》"Want me to come inside you? That's so sexy baby."

》Makes a BIG DEAL about you having his 'royal seed' inside of you. Even if he asks to come inside of you, he still makes you beg for it. He thinks that you're his slut and that you need to be grateful that such a powerful king is taking the time to fuck you.

》Of course, this is all just talk because he is actually the sweetest little aftercare sunshine ball even if he's been taken over by Chaos.

》Speaking of Chaos, he uses Chaos to get himself off. Once his lover found him masturbating using Chaos. His hand was bracing himself on the bed post whilst using makeshift stone hands to force his thighs apart whilst another rubbed up and down his shaft. He looked at his lover, one eye open, and moaned their name to come help him relieve his stress.

》 "C-Come over here and h-help your King~!"

》Let's just say that his lover ended up being shoved down onto his dick, riding him whilst the hand played with his balls. Chaotic hands roamed all over both their bodies, and the only sounds the poor people in the castle could hear were Arthur and his lover loudly moaning each other's names despite Arthur using Chaos to fuck them both.

》He has their wrists tied above their head, summoning Chaos tentacles to feel along their body whilst he thrusts his hips forward in a deep and rough motion. He can feel everything that they do, able to imagine its his own hands feeling along his partner's body. Whenever Arthur feels his partner tighten on him, he throws his head back and gives out a loud moan or a broken whine.

》Very expressive when it comes to being in bed. He knows what he wants- He will tell you what he wants in the moment and then ask you if you're okay with it.

》Luckily, his lover is usually a very open person~ 》He makes sure he slowly slides into them, hips touching each other, and fills them up all the way before slowly rolling his hips into them. The best way Arthur does this is in doggy position.

》They will have their body pressed into the bed, ass up, whilst Arthur's back and whole body is pressed up against them. He gives a few short shallow thrusts before pulling out and then fucking right back into them.

》If his partner doesn't hold back, Arthur doesn't hold back. And he will comply when you want more- fucking harder, deepening his cock inside of them, causing them to be louder and louder than usual.

》There's a lot of 'yeahs' and praising from his side, constantly telling them how tight they are and how good that they feel. When he cums inside of them, its to the point where there's a bulge in their stomach.

》Arthur will purposefully go multiple rounds to see this bulge, even if its the smallest thing. Its indication that his dick is big enough to keep all of that seed inside of his lover. And sometimes he will sit back whilst using Chaos to fuck his partner after, and jack off to the sight.

》Poor poor poor (Name)....

》Any kinks his lover have will be incorporated into his sex routine-

》He enjoys cumming right at the same time as his partner because the feeling of them clench around him must cause his whole body to feel like its being milked.

》Throne sex is a must for Arthur as well. Either getting off by choking on his dick in the throne room, or by riding him on the throne whilst no one else is there. Its a power move for Arthur, finding himself wanting someone to walk in. Even if its a poor servant, he's going to feel amazing.

》"Yeah, you like that? Bouncing on my royal cock? Hm? Say it~" 》He will start training his partner to please him the right way. It starts by him slowly sticking his fingers in his lover's mouth to train their gag reflex. Arthur does not care what kind of gag reflex his partner has, he is going to be fucking his hips into his lover's mouth if he feels like he wants to release. He chases after the feeling, finally accomplishing what he wants at the end.

》He will first fuck your throat with his fingers before you are allowed to suck his royal dick. It's a privilege...Earn it.

》ANYWAY YEAH DADDY CHAOS DOES DO A LOT OF GOOD <3

》I HAVE A LOT MORE TO SAY BUT THATS IT

𝕌𝕡 ℕ𝕖𝕩𝕥: ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕤 ℕ𝕊𝔽𝕎 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄

headcanons about kento nanami being insanely protective over you, his sweet wife . . . ♡

Typically, Nanami is a calm, cool, and collected individual. However, that changes drastically if someone’s bothering you.

Be it an annoying cashier or a first grade curse, no one messes with Mrs. Nanami.

For ordinary, aggravating people, all it takes is them seeing that muscular, pissed-off man approaching, and they run off as fast as they can.

Nanami trained for hours upon hours to become stronger in order to protect you, which is how he managed to become so buff.

If you’re a sorcerer as well, Nanami insists upon the two of you doing as many missions together as possible.

He’s not a whiny kid, so he won’t throw a fit if he can’t be right by your side, but he’ll definitely try to negotiate with the higher-ups at every given opportunity about it.

He knows you’re strong and that you can handle yourself, he knows that you don’t need his protection, but he still wants to be there for you.

He’d die for you without a second thought. Jump in harm’s way as a human shield without any care in regards to his own life.

Nanami is naturally insanely strong, of course, but if an enemy hurts you, even if it’s just a small scratch, he becomes an entirely different person.

He once slammed someone through several walls for kicking you in the stomach. They died instantly. And Nanami gently and carefully inspected your bruises after.

He does worry that he’ll somehow hurt you on accident, both directly and indirectly. He’s afraid that he’ll accidentally hurt you whenever he touches you, or that something bad will happen to you if he accidentally makes a mistake while on a mission.

Not only does your dear husband protect you from other people, but he’ll protect you from weather, dangerous objects, etc.

If it’s raining, he won’t hesitate to snatch off his jacket and put it over your head if you both forgot to bring an umbrella. He’ll also carry you across unavoidable puddles without you even asking.

If he notices a loose nail sticking out somewhere or a wobbly chair, he fixes it immediately just to make sure that you won’t get hurt.

When fighting, he might remove his tie. He might remove his jacket. But he will never remove his ring.