PAIRING(S): Asra Alnazar x Gn!Reader, Julian Devorak x Gn!Reader, Nadia Satrinava x Gn!Reader, Muriel x Gn!Reader, Portia x Gn!Reader, Lucio x Gn!Reader
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Cuddling positions are practically never ending with Asra. They love to just be close to you and doesn’t have much of a preference.
However, there are some cuddle positions that are preferred after a long day of existing.
One of them is him laying on your chest. Usually this is your way of helping them unwind, especially when you massage his scalp and play with his hair.
Other than that, just hearing your heartbeat and feeling the rise and fall of your chest comforts them, even after all that’s happened.
Then there’s the time when he just wants to show you that he loves you.
This usually prompts them to start kissing you all over your face and you end up falling into his arms, all bundled up by the warm blankets.
Honestly overall, they just love to cuddle in bed with you and whatever position you two end up laying in
Even if it isn’t always the same position you wake up in
Also bonus points if you end up letting Faust cuddle up with you two, she does get cold sometimes yknow
Which she most likely always does end up doing
In Nadia’s route, it’s noted that there is only once bed in the shop so it’s likely Asra and you share it even when you’re not cuddling
So most times he’d fall asleep from exhaustion near you, with faust slithering on him
Probably hugs you around your waist too
And if you try to strike a “sexy” pose he’ll laugh and play along
The worst
Ofc he’s not actually the worst Lucio still exists but the way he cuddles at times is a hit or miss
Especially since most times he ends up sprawling his limbs out wherever they can, usually ending up on top of you unless you spoon him.
When it’s actually enjoyable to cuddle with him, most times he enjoys being spooned or mutual holding.
We all know how self deprecating he is so might as well show him how well he can be loved, even if you’re shorter or smaller, that’s no excuse
Just don’t mind his long limbs
Regardless of how you choose to hold him, he’ll always hold onto you back. Now on the other end of the spectrum where it’s damn near torture-
He has no regard for you- in his sleep at least
Like bro is genuinely squishing you with his limbs, and you can’t even move them because you’re trapped 💔
He probably unknowingly hogs the blanket too since he’s slipped off the bed more times than he’d like to admit and has taken the blanket with him.
He has all his weight on it, making damn near impossible to get the blanket from under him, leaving you shivering and timbering in the cold
If you’d prefer to be the one held then he’d be more than happy to 😭 just be prepared for him to be pretty flustered by being the one “in charge”
He does apologize to you when he wakes up if he’s been squishing you, etc etc though
Mother
She definitely one of the LI that are on the podium of best cuddlers. she holds you so warm and tight it’s honestly the best.
She is not the type to be all that physically affectionate, which is honestly a bummer because her hugs and cuddles are the best ever.
Often times at the end of an exhausting day as countess, she loves to spoil you and hold you in her arms.
She’s more than happy to massage your scalp or shoulders, even feeding you some fruit would be sufficient
Sleep wise, she’s as elegant as she is when she’s awake. Her hair is somehow perfect (must be the rose colored lenses talking-) and she’s not a blanket hogger of any kind
She’s really considerate even in her sleep and she’ll randomly wake up in the middle of the night and look for you
If you’re not covered by the blanket, she’ll tuck you in and go back to bed.
Either that or she’ll also hold you in her arms depending on if she believes that you want your space.
Now, if you’re more a sprawler, always falling off the bed, or just not that pretty of a sleeper she find it super endearing
She’ll literally get up from her cozy place on the bed to help you back up. Even going as far as carrying you if that’s what would be more comfortable.
Now, we all know Nadia prefers to be the one “in charge” she prefers to pamper and that’s alright.
But, if you prefer to also show her your affection that same way she’ll be more than happy to oblige- although it’ll be done with a blush.
When cuddling Muriel is super gentle and is hyper aware because of his larger stature, making him scared at the possibility of hurting you.
Which, you have to reassure him would never happen because you’d be happy to be crushed by him
With your constant reassurance and how often you tend to flop yourself on top of him, he eventually just gets used to it.
Cuddle wise, he’s usually big spoon for obvious reasons, he’ll hold you against his chest too along with Inanna being sandwiched by you both.
Again, you tend to be the one laying on him and when he chooses to sleep on his back, you’re laying on his chest and just absorbing his warmth.
I think it’d be obvious, but Muriel would also enjoy being held aswell. When you confront him with the idea he’s flustered because not only has he never considered it but he’s so touch starved.
If you have him lay his head on your chest, being held in your arms or even go as far as have him be little spoon, well his blush is out of this world.
If anything, he’s just happy that you’d want him to feel loved, as if you being around him isn’t enough
It isn’t
He’s basically beet red and he just accepts the affection ,laying there with you because again, he loves it.
Whenever/ if he tries to argue and say that he’s too big or whatever just say that you want him 🔛🔝 of you and just watch him squirm and get so flustered that he forgets
He ends up inevitably bringing it up again, so just cuddle the man
Sleep wise, Muriel is also really considerate. He tries not to take as much space and if you end up subconsciously tugging a blanket that he’s on, he’ll immediately move to give it to you.
Treat him well.
Yes, yes, yes, just yes
She’s the absolute best person to cuddle with, she’s such a cuddle bug and honestly neither of you guys have a preference most times and so it ends in just cuddling however.
Most times it’s either of you on the others chest. Mostly it’s Portia that enjoys having you rest on her and she enjoys playing with your hair or just massaging your scalp.
She’s more than happy to be the big spoon if that’s what you prefer, maybe she’d even tease you for being so “bold” as to ask.
Ironic considering that the instant that you insist on coddling her she’s flushed from head to toe.
Literally almost literally every time you two cuddle she’ll always put a leg over you.
Just a quirk of hers that you’ve noticed and a definite plus is how warm she is which causes you to cling to her.
Which definitely warrants some teasing for clinging onto her like some koala. She finds it endearing though and is definitely worth is since she ends up peppering kisses all over your face
W
Is it really cuddling with Portia if you exclude Pepi? No, no it’s not
Pepi is so cute!! It’s a well known fact and she’ll always end up crawling and making her way through the bundle of blankets to rest her little self in between you and Portia.
Sleep wise, Portia is also a hit or miss 😭
She’ll either cling to you in her sleep while also being considerate so it’s not bothersome
Or she’ll sleep lazily and drool a bit, causing her to be a bit embarrassed once she finally wakes up.
The worst motherfucker to cuddle with, EVER (up to interpretation whether it’s said with love)
Not likely)
Like he sleeps in either of two ways and neither of them are necessarily the best.
The first way is him being all lovey dovey and cuddly with you while the second one makes you wish death (again) upon him.
The first one is admittedly really nice. He’s in your arms and just being the needy, clingy bastard we all know Lucio to be.
It’s not so nice because of how this doesn’t change even during the summer time. You’ll definitely end up getting a heatstroke because of him clinging onto you one day.
That’s just the first way though.
The second way is him being sprawled out all over you without a care in the world.
His limbs are so freaking heavy too, it’s not like you could escape even if you desperately wanted to.
Worst part? He steals the fucking blanket all the time
Literally refuses to let go of his weirdly tight grip on the blanket in his sleep, leaving you shivering and timbering all night.
And then he has the audacity of getting mad at you for pushing him off the bed.
—The moment it happens, Asra’s entire world stops breathing. One second you’re laughing, the next you’re between them and a blade, and then you’re on the ground with blood on your shirt and your smile flickering.
—They drop beside you instantly, trembling hands already glowing with healing light, voice breaking on your name: “No, no, no— stay with me, love, stay with me.”
—The rational part of their mind dissolves. They pour every ounce of magic they have into your wound, ignoring the burns crawling up their own arms, whispering frantic promises: “I can fix this. You’ll be okay. You always make it okay.”
—The guilt is suffocating. You protected them, them, the one who was supposed to protect you. They can’t comprehend it. Their whole being is wired for self-sacrifice; they never imagined you’d do the same.
—When you finally stabilize, Asra refuses to leave your side. They sleep sitting up, head against your shoulder, pulse pressed to yours just to make sure you’re still there.
—Later, when you joke about it (“Hey, at least I made a good shield”), Asra just stares at you with tear-bright eyes and whispers, “Don’t ever do that again. I’d rather be gone than see you fall for me.”
JULIAN
—For a heartbeat, he doesn’t even realize what’s happened. He was supposed to take that blow, it was his duel, his mistake… and then suddenly, it’s you lying there.
—The way he screams your name could wake the dead.
—He falls to his knees, blood smearing across his gloves as he tries to hold you together with shaking hands. His voice breaks on apologies, curses, prayers, all tangled into a frantic litany: “No no no no, please, gods, take me instead.”
—Every trauma, every failure floods back. You were his light, his one proof that he could do something right, and now you’re fading because of him.
—He doesn’t stop talking while the healers work. He tells you stories, half-mad, to keep you anchored. Recounts the first time he saw you smile, the first time you scolded him, the first time he realized he was in love.
—When you finally wake up, he laughs and cries at once, clutching your face like you might vanish. “Don’t you ever do that again,” he says, voice hoarse. “If anyone’s going to make reckless, life-threatening decisions around here, it’s me.”
NADIA
—It happens too fast. You push her out of the way, take the hit meant for her, and in that instant, the Duchess disappears. Nadia the woman takes over.
—Her scream echoes through the marble halls like thunder. She drops to her knees, ripping a strip of her gown to staunch the bleeding with trembling hands that have never trembled before.
“Stay awake,” she orders, voice cracking. “That’s an order, do you hear me?” But there’s nothing commanding about it, only pleading.
—She calls for healers, for guards, for anyone. But she refuses to let go of you. Blood stains her sleeves, her rings, her hair. She doesn’t care.
—When you finally stir hours later, she’s still there with the eyes rimmed red and crown discarded somewhere on the floor. She takes your hand and presses her forehead to it.
“You fool,” she whispers, half-sobbing, half-laughing. “You absolute, magnificent fool. I should imprison you for terrifying me like that.”
MURIEL
—The world narrows to sound: the impact, your gasp and his own heart pounding. He doesn’t even think. He’s beside you in seconds, lifting you with the gentleness of someone holding the last fragile piece of his soul.
—His hands are huge and clumsy, slick with blood. He keeps whispering your name, over and over, like it’s a spell that might wake you.
—Muriel has faced beasts, curses and exile. But this kind of fear is new. He can’t fight it with strength. He can only hold you and hope you keep breathing.
—When Asra or Nadia arrives to heal you, he doesn’t move away. He just keeps your hand in his, jaw clenched so tight it aches.
—For days after, he barely speaks. The guilt eats at him, the idea that you were hurt because of him, because you thought his life was worth protecting. He can’t accept that.
—When you finally sit up, pale but smiling, he almost crumples. You reach for him, and he hesitates, afraid to touch you, afraid he’ll break you again, until you insist. Then he buries his face against your neck, silent tears soaking your skin.
PORTIA
—The moment you push her out of harm’s way, she doesn’t even process it. One blink, and suddenly you’re bleeding.
“No no no no, hey— hey— look at me!” She’s on the ground beside you, hands pressing against the wound even though she’s shaking. “You’re okay, you’re okay, I’m right here, we’re fine—” She’s not fine.
—When the healers come, they have to physically pull her back because she won’t stop talking to you, begging you to stay awake. She’ll pace the hallway for hours, blood still on her hands, refusing to rest.
—When you finally regain consciousness, she collapses beside your bed, head in her arms, sobbing with relief.
“You idiot,” she mumbles between hiccups. “You could’ve died, and then who would I annoy all day?”
—But later, when it’s just you and her in the candlelight, she gets quieter. Her hands tremble as she cups your face, voice small: “Don’t ever think I’m not worth saving, okay? But don’t you ever trade yourself for me again.”
LUCIO
—Lucio has always believed himself invincible…until you throw yourself in front of him. The sight of you taking the hit meant for him breaks something fundamental.
“No— no no no, don’t you dare—” He’s yelling before he even reaches you, his hands frantically trying to stop the bleeding, his voice raw.
—For once, he’s not thinking about image or pride, just you. “You weren’t supposed to do that! I can handle it, I always handle it—” His words crumble into panic.
—He carries you himself, shouting for healers, refusing to let anyone else touch you. His armor is streaked with your blood by the time you’re stable.
—When you wake, his eyes are red and his hair a mess. The proud Count reduced to a man who’s been sitting in the corner all night, head in his hands.
—The second you speak, he’s at your side, half laughing, half crying: “You absolute maniac. I was supposed to protect you! That’s my whole thing!”
—It shakes him. Not just the fear, but the realization that someone loves him enough to risk themselves. It makes him rethink everything he’s ever believed about strength.
You wake to a strange, foreign body that doesnt feel quite your own, in a warm and magical land you you hardly understand... and it hurts to try to remember.
Asra Alnazar, Julian Devorak, Portia Devorak, Nadia Satrinava, Muriel x Reader
NSFW Choose Your Own Adventure
🔗 READ/PLAY HERE
🎮 interactive fanfic "Arcane Awakening" by FuneralWithCake
📖 Episode 1 of ?
The Arcana boys and what body part they love to kiss/worship the most?
OH MY YES- and I think I will add where they love to be worshipped the most mueheheh
ɪꜰ ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜᴘ ɪɴ ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪꜱᴇ
Julian
ꫂ ၴႅၴ Your arms. Julian takes his time to cover in kisses your neck and chest or rub the nose against your inner thighs, but the main recipients of his devotion are your arms. The way they gently wrap around his body when you welcome him back home, keeping him safe and sheltered from every sorrow and trouble; their softness and warmth against his skin, and more than anything, how you open them whenever you see him: he is your biggest treasure, they shout it a million times, so he doesn't have any chance to resist and not melt under the sun of your love. If you give him free rein, he will spend uncountable hours caressing and peppering in kisses every inch of them, to thank you for being in his life.
ꕤ His back. Julian has a really sensitive body and every touch, whenever it lands, awakes a full storm of sensations; but not as much as when you focus your attention on his back. He gasps and jolts every time your fingers traces delicate paths on his skin, burying the face against the pillow or into his own hands, and how loud he moans as soon as your nails sink into the flesh or scratch it enough to leave red marks...
The thing he loves the most is when you approach him while he's sit working at his desk, and you press yourself against his back and rub the cheeks against it, or lift his shirt to leave a soft trail of kisses down his spine; your affection and desire for him rolls against the doctor like a gentle wave, and he stops whatever he's doing to live the moment at its fullest, grabbing your hands and holding them against his heart, the sweetest smile on his face. "Keep going, darling, you make me feel so alive..."
Muriel
ꫂ ၴႅၴ Your cheeks. Muriel has a real weakness for them, from the first moment he meets you: are they as soft, smooth and rosy as they seem? No trick added? ... For real?
He is tempted to poke them and see what happens, and this strange pull doesn't leave his chest; the opposite, since the more time he spends by your side and see how you puff your cheeks out when you pretend to be angry, or how deeply they can become red when you are flustered or laughing, the more he wants to stroke them with the back of his hands, slowly and tenderly. At some point, he would do anything to feel them under his fingers; so, when you two become close enough to allow yourselves some intimacy, he takes his time savoring the sensation of finally being able to touch your face, marveling at the warmth of your skin and blushing madly for how much you are smiling - and only for him. "...... Your cheeks are so hot now..."
"So they are burning... or do you find them irresistible?"
His shocked expression speaks by itself, and you cannot hold back a loud laugh. What a cutie... "You are so sweet... stroke them forever, please."
The moment you say it, Muriel loses what little control left in him, and his lips meets your cheeks again and again, pouring on them all the sweet, deep feelings he has for you; and it is only the beginning. Just wait to see what happens from now on.
ꕤ His hands. Every second you spend kissing them, your soft lips worshipping or teasing his fingers and palms; every moment you bring them to your face or on your body or simply hold them in yours, his heart skips a bit and a soft warmth spreads into his chest, and Muriel has to avert the gaze to not start moaning.
Those hands did horrible, terrible things, were tools for carnage, pain and death; he even arrived to the point of hating them, despising himself even more...
But then you came. You entered his life and choose to stay, and everything changed: you were not scared by them, and instead you took every opportunity to hold them; you were always kind to him and to them, caressing every callus and line with your characteristic gentle touch, softly blowing on his palms to make him laugh; and whenever you looked for them, asking for their caresses, for their protection...
How... and why... why something that brought the darkest desperation, still holds the power to bring such happiness as the one reflected in your eyes?
Sometimes, the boy still doesn't have the complete answer to this mystery; so he listens to you and what you have to say on the matter, leaving behind another ghost as soon as your fingers intertwine or do the hand-kissing, asking for a sweet dance.
Content: Established relationship, Morning Sex, Top Muriel (positioning, not necessarily control dynamics) gender neutral reader, gender neutral genitalia descriptors, Muriel penetrates Reader, Confident Muriel (kinda lol)
Summary: Waking up after a night of pleasure, Muriel meditates on what it means for you and him to belong to each other. At the very least it means he can hold you just a little bit longer in the mornings, right?
[A/N]:I have quite the arsenal of smutfics I'm slowly writing in the background but for now, I found this one that was pretty much finished at this point! Surprising that i hadn't even posted it yet!
The word echoed in his mind, making him sigh into the warmth of your body pressed against him. You had said it, you had pleaded it. That you were his, that you belonged to him. The thought of it clung to his mind like a leech, draining him of all other coherent thoughts.
His. You were his.
You had cried it out when you came on his tongue, around his fingers. You sobbed it out when he pushed in, and you drooled the word all over the bed sheets when he filled you. It drove him mad each time. His, you were his, you gave yourself up to him. Sure, he was yours, that was a given, but you? His? You were the loveliest gift he's ever received. He wanted—he had—to give you something as thanks.
There's a little bit of shuffling around the bed, a gaping coldness crawling up his once warm arms and chest. He reaches out, thinking that maybe you simply rolled over in your sleep, but only the echo of your warmth against the bed sheets greets him. Discomfort laced up his arms and into his chest, slicing through his previous calm. Plenty enough to make him open his eyes. Make him brush aside the warm welcoming darkness and face the glaring sunlight.
That bitter twinge of cold left as quickly as it came. Evaporated in the warmth of you, gracing him with such a sight so lovely that he had never really considered before. Still naked, you presented to him your back bare and soft in all it's glory. Golden beams of light streak against your skin like a spotlight of sorts, letting him trail his eyes down the various marks that litter your skin all the way down to your ass against the bed, barely hidden by the blankets. Soft marks mar your softer skin, reminding him of how tightly he had held you, and how he had bit you oh-so sweetly the night before. "Evidence of your love" you called it once, when he was less sure, when he was far less selfish.
But you were his. Wasn't he allowed to admire you? Allowed to mark you?
Wasn't he allowed to have you?
You stood from the bed. Stood, left. Oh the audacity of it all. How could you leave when he hadn't given you his gift yet? As quickly as he could, he reached out, careful not to accidentally shove you away, and slipped his arm around your waist pressing his hand against your stomach. He gave you a moment, let you gasp in shock at being grabbed, let you realize it was him, let you realize he was holding you and not intent on letting you go.
And then, when you began to giggle, about to comment on something coy, he pulled you—yanked you—right back into bed. Back to his awaiting embrace and his very, very hard cock.
Gods, the temptation to just take you right then and there makes his stomach flip. He doesn't of course. There are other things to do first. It didn’t matter how much he wanted you—how much he longed for you. Muriel still had some decency.
“Morning,” he hummed, a little rough around his tired voice.
Held so tight to him, Muriel felt it. The shiver that raked you from head to toe, made your rear quiver ever so slightly against his too hard cock. You reply in a strained gasping voice. So soft, so sweet, so hungry.
"Good Morning."
And a good morning indeed. You, warm in his arms, squirming against him, the soft sunlight pouring through the window, your soft rear pressed right against him. His fingers begin their trek up and down your hips torn between the many places he could dig his fingers in to hold you. Did he want to go for your chest? Oh so gently rub at your nipples like you so teasingly did to him last night? Did he want to refresh the marks at your hips or squeeze the flesh of your thighs? Did he want to spread you open and just— no. Not yet. This was your gift, wasn't it? Perhaps you should decide these things...
"Do you need something?" He asks, as if everything's just fine and he isn't currently seconds away from combusting. "Are you hungry? Do you want some water?" If you really did need something... He didn't want to be stealing you away from your own health.
Softly, still a little strained, you chuckle. Giggle actually. The sound alone makes him smile. Grin from ear to ear, burry his face against the warmth of your back and neck.
"Just you, I suppose."
Him? You need him? You have him. He was yours as much as you were his.
And fuck, how did that rile him up more than you being his? He was yours and you were his? That felt so... right. So safe. As if, between the both of you, these two truths held an entire universe. And he supposed there was. He was yours, you were his. Six words felt so feeble in the expanse of your love.
"But you have me," he taunts, just a little. "I'm right here. What do you want?"
And if only to drive you more insane, he kisses your shoulders and your back, biting fresh marks against your spine. Though his arms are wrapped securely around you, his hands find purchase on your hips and he squeezes in that possessive way that could almost leave bruises behind, in the way that makes you instantly melt against his skin.
The sounds you make, soft whines and whimpers as he squeezes you only ever spur him to keep going. To give you more and make you even more pleased with the predicament he's trapped you in. His fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks a little as he does. It taunts him just as cruelly as he does to you, letting him push his cock between your lovely cheeks, but he holds back form all but shoving himself inside of you. After all, he has yet to hear a reply. One hand pulls back a little to settle on your hip where he pinches you, just a little. Just enough to pull your focus back in.
You yelp, and for a moment he isn’t really sure if you even remember his comment at this point. “Please, please Muri. Want your cock. Please. Wanna be spread wide…please? Wanna make you feel good.” And he moans at that, burying his face in your neck once more.
Didn’t you know? You always made him feel good. Even while rutting into your rear you made him feel so good. Everywhere you touched would suddenly turn into a place of pleasure for him. Dragging your fingers along the inside of his wrist, raking your nails against the back of his thighs, tracing patterns on his muscles, spattering kisses along his spine… anywhere—everywhere—you touched, was surrendered to you. He surrendered to you. He bowed at your feet as you laid claim in kisses, soft trailing patterns, and little dents raked in by your teeth or your nails.
And so rather than reply, Muriel abides by your wishes. Flipping you over, so he can see all your pretty expressions, he leans back enough to grab his cock, he stroking himself as he lines up to your drippy core. He hasn't even pushed in yet when a fat white glob of cum drips from your fluttering hole and Muriel all but trembles at the sight. Cum from last night, still dripping down your legs… oh you were far too kind to him.
Selfishly—hungrily—he wants to keep you stuffed like that. Filled to the brim and then some. Have you leaking out hours later— days later. He wants you to feel how much he loves you. How obsessed he is with being with you. Because, you surely can't know can you? Not to it's fullest extent.
His words hardly scratch the surface of his love, all those hours he always wants to spend with you, all of the sweet domestic activities like bathing and cooking, the smiles and hugs and kisses, none of that could truly tell you how much he loved you.
Then again, he supposed fucking you to an inch of your life couldn't exactly explain it in all it's grandness either.
It was just one aspect of love, just like all the others. But it was a part that he reveled in. A physical way for him to profess how much he loved you, all without needing to talk too much, or if he did, he wouldn't need to worry too much about what he was going to say.
All he needed to do was push, and be honest.
A sputtered gasp tore past his lips as he slipped back into your warm wet heat. Amazing. You felt amazing. He felt like he was flying, like nothing in the universe could ever be better, he felt on the verge of collapsing, like he was a single step away from falling off a cliff.
You felt so good….
you felt so good.
How else could he say it? You clenched around him nice and tight, moaning and whimpering his name…
It was safety. It was connection.
It was peace.
It was torture.
He's just pushed in and already, he felt as if he were on the verge of cumming. Gods, could he be any more selfish? This was why he had learned to pleasure you first and foremost. Get you to cum on his fingers, cum in his mouth, on his tongue. He could hardly ever survive a minute inside of you.
And yet, longing and starved, faced with the look of pure unbridled love on your face, a dollop of drool dripping from your lips only adding to your beauty—the sight of you, already fucked stupid, had him thrusting away, chasing his release like you were little else than a toy to help him cum. As if he weren't hyper-focused on your expression—on your eyes. Tracking when they'd swivel up into your head, when your lashes would flutter helplessly shut as you braced yourself for that pleasure.
He wanted to give you so much pleasure… give back everything you were giving him.
So focused on your eyes, on your face, on your moans—so focused on your expression, he ignored your hands up until it was too late, until they were tangled in his hair yanking him down to your lips for a life-ending kiss.
It was as if the world had flickered suddenly from day to night, like everything good and soft, and warm and kind poured down from your lips and into his lungs, leaving him to both burst and bloom under the gentle caress of your lips.
He would never get used to kissing you, especially during this. It always felt like his whole world was being flipped, pleasure being granted a new indescribable depth. His dick inside of you and his lips against yours. It was the purest form of pleasure imaginable. Only made so much stronger by the emotions attached to it. The emotions you elicited in him.
He loved you.
He loved you so, so much. You were everything soft and kind and beautiful and tender, and when he was tender too—sensitive, hurt and raw—you'd simply trace your fingers over his seams, and kiss him. You'd kiss him stupid, kiss him until all the world fell away, and Muriel knew nothing else but tender softness, found between your lips. You’d kiss him until he was healed through, or until he was okay with the soft spots.
His hips slowed, and he leaned further into your kiss, chasing a completely different high.
He'd kiss you forever if he could. Kiss you so hard and thoroughly that you'd become addicted to him, just as much as he was to you. He’d kiss you until you could feel just how much he loved you, how much he wanted you here, with him. He’d kiss you forever
Your hips shift a little under him twin moans bursting past the edges of your kiss as you’re both drawn back to that other hunger that consumes you.
And yet Muriel can’t bear to leave your lips.
He whines like a child when you pull away to try and calm your breathing and whines again, even louder as your hips grind back onto him.
“Please…please… wanna… gonna….” You're panting out the words, chest heaving as you stare up at him with those lovely lust-blown eyes.
Gods you look divine. Swollen, kiss bitten lips glossed over with drool, your face pleasantly warm from all the exertion. And that unchangeable look of pure love.
Whatever you wanted. If he could give it to you he would.
And this? This? This he could give to you.
It’s your gift after all.
And yet, because he’s selfish, he cups your cheek with his hand and leads you back to take another kiss.
Slowly, he resumes thrusting into you.
It’s so much better and yet so much worse than before, getting the taste of your lips and hearing those deep and guttural moans pressed against his tongue like a treat, feeling you squeeze down on him tighter somehow, fluttering wildly when he hits that sweet spot deep within you. One of your hands falls from its hold on his hair, dropping instead to clutch his back, dig your nails into his skin. Hold him closer, closer, closer. Close enough for him to melt into you and never let go.
He has to lean back. As much as it pains him to tear himself from you he has to lean back. It's only a moment and yet the cold air seems so stark against his warmed skin. In any other case he could have called it relief. Now? It’s heartbreaking. But he needs to see you. Needs to watch as you fall apart. He doesn't pull back far enough that you'd need to release your claws from his skin—he wouldn't dare—but you still whine as if he had pulled out entirely, as if he had left you, abandoned you.
A deep thrust back into your welcoming hole. Oh he hoped you didn't believe that. Your nails dug deeper into his skin, a silent demand for him to return to his place pressed flush against you.
He cradles a hand to your cheek, hoping it'd satiate you, hoping it would draw your attention back to him—keep your attention on him, so that he could see you, so that he could meet your eyes as you fell. And you did, you met his eyes, struggling to keep focus as his hips still rocked into you, but pressing him into the same predicament, as you wrapped a hand over his own, and guided it to your lips, kissing and licking at the palm of his hand.
Ahh, how cruel you were. He was supposed to be thanking you. Show off how he was yours just as much as you were his... But how was he supposed to do that when you were so.... So kind? So generous? So giving? So, so, so....Wonderful.
Then again, maybe this showed that he was yours too, how you could push him right off the edge with a mere kiss to his hand.
The sound that escapes him then is a strangled mess of whimpers and whining, like some sort of kicked puppy sobbing out in the rain. Only he wasn't exactly sad; suffering maybe, but he loved every second of it. Squeezing him for every drop he was worth, the tightness began to grow overwhelming as rope after rope of his sticky release filled you, and dribbled onto the bed, but even then he wouldn't stop thrusting. A part of him swelled in delighted pride at his determination to keep filling you with his cock—with his cum—but another part knew full well that he was just stuck on the pleasure at this point, unable to do anything but press himself into you because you felt so, so, so good around him, and he just couldn't get enough. He could never get enough...
His arms collapse from the crash of his release, and though he does his best not to crush you as he retakes his place against your skin, you welcome him eagerly, with your open arms, your face already pressing itself against his skin as soon as he was close enough.
Your breath comes in deep heaves, gasping gulps that Muriel finds himself copying as he tries to regain his sanity, his mind, his anything, from the mess of fluids on the bed. Maybe if he looked close enough he could find the patch of bed that absorbed the sanity he had been drooling out mere moments ago.
But to do that, he'd have to get up. To do that, his legs would have to work.
To do that, he'd have to pull away from you.
Even if he wasn't weak with pleasure, he doubted he'd be able to muster the strength for that.
From the little window of the hut, golden sunlight begins to pour into the room. The day already long since begun uncaring of any bodies that linger in bed. Eventually, hunger will follow the daylight, and he'll be spurred from bed, to prepare breakfast. And after that, there's work on the garden that needs to be done, and chopping some firewood won't hurt to ensure a healthy supply through the next cold night. There was a whole day waiting just outside the confines of your bed.
But the day could wait just a little longer.
And maybe you'd join him in the call for your chores, in the need to get things done, you could stand up beside him cuddle right up to his side, as you worked on your own chores by his side.
Or maybe, just maybe, with a longing hunger still lingering on your tongue, you'd pull him right back in.
⚠️: I haven't been in the Arcana fandom in YEARS so there might be inaccuracies, praise kink, sex mentioned (obviously), reader's gender isn't specified,
absolutely melts when touched and gets wayy overwhelmed way fast. He can't be into overstimulation because he's always overstimulated. he definitely just needs to take everything slow and steady, he can't handle much in the way of affection.
he's especially sensitive when it comes to your tongue and the feeling of your tongue on his skin. He can hardly handle the thought that you would care enough to want to give him pleasure in that way
ofc he has a thing for praise-- but it's less that hes into praise (thats Julian's thing) and more that he doesn't know how to handle compliments and can't believe that anyone would really direct anything so sweet towards him.
He physically cannot come before you do. At first it was only mental, both him and his instincts telling himself to prioritize you over his own needs but at some point he became physically impossible for him to feel satisfied until he knew that you were.
He would much rather have sex with you as a way to feel as close to you as possible rather than to relieve himself. Typically, he doesn't even realize that he wants you in that way, if he even does. (Asexual muriel anyone?)
on that note, he would struggle processing his own desires and might feel insecure about even being aroused. If you offered to help him out in that realm he would just be very confused more than anything.
He would enjoy missionary but at the same time it makes him feel so shy and exposed. even if he trusts you, he would be hesitant because of how exposed he would feel looking right into your eyes during something so intimate.
he would definitely love giving head more than anything else. He needs nothing more than to taste you and know that you're satisfied to feel good. Would also adore getting to taste you when he's stressed, telling you that you're the best thing he's ever tasted. He wouldn't be greedy and would take his time, going as slow as a man as desperate as he is could in an attempt to savor you slowly.
He's so so so gentle when he's inside of you. The first time he might not even move for a while out of fear that he might accidentally hurt you if he tried to please you or himself.
hear me out on this but I think he has a breeding kink-- but in a more soft, one hand on your stomach while he pushes himself further and further into you while he whispers to you that he's so grateful that you trust him enough to do this with you sort of way.
He wouldn't moan much, and would mainly let out gasps and grunts. He would definitely whimper when very overwhelmed though.
Because of his past, he doesn't feel like he has the right to touch you and hesitates a lot. You would have to convince him that he wont hurt you and even then he would be a little tense.
Would instinctively bury his face into your neck or shoulders, no matter the position or your shape or size. It almost feels like he's and animal, snuggling into you for warmth or comfort while you're so close.
He's very shy, but not about his body necisarily. Rather, he always worries that hes doing something wrong, be it too little, too much or not enough. Muri just needs some love and patience <3
