nsfw sub! muriel with a female mc pls i’m begging you
Word Count: 850Rating: ExplicitWarnings: smut, sex, light dom/sub
I misread this and wrote it with a gender neutral mc without mentioning genitalia at all, but it’s really easy to imagine pussy or dick if that’s what you’re into lol.
Muriel shakes as he lays beneath them, putting his hands on their chest, their hips, anywhere he could find purchase, and the shaky moan that shakes his chest is enough to have them break their stony facade, but they manage to hold true, hands barely ghosting over his chest.
He ruts his hips forward, trying to find any purchase, gain any friction, and only manages to gain a disappointed ‘tsk’, and he’s suddenly filled with the urge to please them, to apologize, to claim that he didn’t mean it.
“Who said you could do that, my love?” They tease, voice hollow and cracking, but it sends shivers down his spine all the same, and he’s so goddamn hard for them.
Fuck, he just wants to touch them, and they hold his wrists down on the bed, kissing his neck, and he knows he can move, that if he really needed to touch them - and he does - he could, but he needs to listen to them more, because he knows the reward will be so, so much better.
“Can you do that for me, Muriel?” They ask, parting their lips and letting their tongue dart out to wet it, “Can you keep your hands to yourself?”
He’s nodding before they’ve said his name, a wild frenzy of need, and he just wants to come, to feel good, to make them feel good -
“Okay, then.” They smile, tracing the expanse of his jawline, and he moves into their touch like a man starved, “Open.” The pad of their thumb presses against his pout, and immediately, he opens it to let it pass, swirling his tongue around and sucking, hard, making him imagine all the things they could be doing with their tongue right now, and it takes everything in his being not to reach up and cup their ass.
They pull their thumb free far too soon, and slowly, teasingly, they bring it to their mouth and suck. Once it’s resting on their chin, glistening with spittle, they take their bottom lip between their teeth and smile.
“You’re such a pretty picture like this. And you’re doing so well for me, my bear.”
He has to grip hold of the pillow to keep from touching them.
Their smile doesn’t falter as they trace kisses down his chest, and as soon as they nip the sensitive flesh of his thigh, he’s bucking against their mouth.
“No.” They say, firm and harsh, looking up at him and holding his hips down, “You keep that to yourself, or we stop, alright?” He nods, biting his lip so hard they feared it might bleed, and they ask, “What’s your word for when the game isn’t fun anymore?” They trace circles on his thigh.
“Plague.” He stutters out, pulling at the pillow, especially when their hand comes to rest on his dick.
“And are you thinking of saying it now?”
“No!” He cries out, eyes screwed shut - from pleasure or pain, he didn’t know - and gasps, “Please, please, love, please.”
He sounded so pitiful, so desperate, and they just had to show him a sliver of mercy.
He sees white when their lips wrap around the tip of his dick.
They hollow their cheeks and suck, moving tantalizingly slowly, and he hazily remembers to keep his hands to himself and hips on the bed, but it was so tempting, and he was so close already.
Their left hand valiantly tries to close around his dick, pulling upward and stroking him so fucking slowly. They finally close their lips around more of him, and as soon as they feel him twitch, they’ve completely pulled away, pulling off and sitting back on their knees.
“Uh uh.” They say, running a hand over their scalp, “You don’t get to come until I say you can.”
“Fuck.” He swears, pulling and tugging at the pillow, “Please, please, please -.”
“What’s your word, Muriel?”
He tries to remember, to pick his brain apart and remember the fucking word, but it’s so hard with them straddling his thigh, and the promise of more -
“Plague!” He cries out, “Keep going, please, please -.” The pillow finally gives, ripping in two and sending feathers flying everywhere, but he hardly notices, still fisting the casing and still so desperate for them to just fucking touch him.
“Shhh, hush now, love.” They push his hair off his forehead, smiling at him kindly, in spite of the fact that he’s pretty sure he just destroyed their pillow, and he’s convinced they were wicked, that they were sent to torture him, “I’m going to take care of you, I swear it.”
They stand, and he’s left on the bed, cold and alone, and he sits up, but remembers not to reach for them. They cast a glance over their shoulder, and a smile is thrown with it, and he knows that he’s in for a long night.
They sit in a chair, naked as the day they were born, their knees spread apart, and with one heavy, lust-ridden look, they tell him, “Touch yourself.”
He shakes, but does as they say.