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arcanastan101 · 6 months

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Self Love❤️

Femdom!Reader/Sub!Muriel(the arcana)

spice level: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

plot: a sexy little anniversary gift turns into a heated therapy session you can’t take your eyes off of.

Notes: pegging, sex in front of a mirror, lingerie, self confidence issues, embarrassment, forced self love, modern au, feminization

The box was small, plain, and tightly wrapped in a black silk bow. Its contents had been ordered weeks ago in anticipation of your upcoming anniversary, and it had arrived just in time. You'd considered just springing the idea on him; shoving the package into his hands, shoving him into the bathroom, and telling him to meet you in the bedroom once he was done, but that was far too mean. Instead, you’d gradually let him in on the plan, sprinkling small hints here and there, before unraveling the whole truth.

“Muriel, it’s here!” you hollered, excitedly picking the box up off your front step.

Fantasies of the fun to come swirled as you closed the door and walked into the cabin. One idea in particular stood out, something you had been planning for much longer than the rest. Muriel sat in the sun room, carving away at what you could only assume was part of your gift. As you emerged in the doorway he quickly hid his work, dark green irises meeting yours as you presented the box to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, gently taking the container from your hands.

“Remember what we talked about trying?” you asked, a small grin adorning your smile.

“This is that?” he questioned, tugging at the silk of the bow.

“Don’t open it yet, this is just your part,” you giggled, placing your hands on his to stop his motion.

“Are we doing this right now?” he whispered, taking your hands in his, the warmth of his calloused palms spreading into your fingertips.

“Sure, if you’re up for it,” you agreed.

He stood up from his place, the box held to his waist as he leaned forward to kiss you. He smelled strongly of cedarwood, and the warmth he radiated was so inviting you almost wanted to forget about the plan. The kiss lasted a little longer than usual, and a pink tint dusted his cheeks as he pulled away.

“Meet me in the bedroom once you're done,” you ordered, gently stroking your thumb across the stubble along his jawline. He gave you a small smile before parting ways. As you tiptoed to the bedroom your mind ran with thoughts of the tight lace against his honeyed skin; it was nearly impossible to wait for your fantasies to stand before you. You were quick to undress and get into your harness, despite nearly falling in the process. Worried he would return any minute, you fell back onto the bed, reveling in the comfort of the blankets and furs. His earthy scent danced around your head from the blanket beneath you; the familiar smell sent shocks downwards, and you began to wonder what was taking so long.

“Muriel,” you called gently, hoping for a response at the very least.

Yet he was silent, and you waited impatiently atop the mattress. After several more minutes you rose, and walking to the bathroom you were silent.

“Muriel,” you called again, “is everything alright in there?”

Again he remained quiet and a small tinge of anxiety sparked in your mind.

“Y-Yea, I guess,” he mumbled, the tone of his voice so much smaller and weaker than it had been only moments prior.

“Do you need help?” you asked, placing your ear to the door, “can I come in?”

After his quiet approval, you pushed through the door, expecting to see him bent in some strange angle in an attempt to put on your present. Instead he sat on the edge of the tub, the forest green lace and small gold accents sitting beautifully, oh so tightly against his skin. He did not look at you, but rather kept his eyes turned to the floor.

“Is everything ok?” you asked, hesitantly walking towards him

“Why did you buy this for me?” he asked, still refusing to meet your eyes.

“Why? Because I wanted to see you in it, it looks really good on you,” you complimented, gently squeezing his thigh as you took a seat beside him.

“It l-looks so bad, I look so bad,” he whispered, turning his head away from you to face the wall.

“What was that?” you asked, this time moving to grab him by the chin and force him to meet your eyes.

“I-I don’t look good, I’m sorry,” he whispered, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to face you, and tightening his arms around himself.

“Muriel, you look so good,” you started, dragging your hand down his throat to the lacy green choker seated delicately above his collar bones.

“The color matches your skin the way I knew it would, and it hugs you in all the right places like it should, you look good enough to eat,” you whispered, placing a soft kiss to his temple. Your hand continued to wander, first giving a tender tug to the golden bell around his throat, then tracing over the emerald elastic sat over his pectoral muscle before yanking it upwards to hear the snap it made against his skin. He lightly shuddered at this, and despite his embarrassed demeanor, leaned into your touch, positively reacting to your physical reassurance. Further down, you looped a finger beneath the corset style belt, watching as the gold pattern against the green moved with the expansion of your finger.

“So tight,” you whispered, gently pulling back on the belt, admiring the way it made his waist look so much smaller.

“Where did you learn to tie one of these?” you asked, running your hand against the small sliver of his bare skin between the belt and bra.

“I don’t know, I just d-did what it said,” he answered, turning away from you yet again.

He brought his hands up to the edge of the tub to lean back, further exposing himself to you. Finally, moving on from the belt you traced along the elastic against his hip. It was evident the panties were a size too small from the way the band dug into his skin, and the way his cock bulged out despite the fact that he wasn’t yet hard. Instead of giving him the pleasure of your touch, you ran your hand down his thigh, gently squeezing as you went along, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of his muscles tense.

“ So, Muriel, how do you look?” you asked, withdrawing your hand to trace his figure with your pupils instead. He was hesitant to answer, looking from the tile on the floor, to the wall and back again.

“R-really bad,” he mumbled, leaning forward again to appear smaller.

Without giving him time to think you took hold of his manhood, and his deep green irises finally meant yours.

“Wrong,” you growled, giving him an experimental squeeze, to which he groaned. “Get up,” you ordered, and he quickly obliged.

Pulling him by his cock, you brought him before the mirror, but still his eyes remained downcast.

“How do you look, Muriel?” you asked again.

Rather than answer, he simply bowed his head and grumbled as a means of repeating his earlier response. With a hand against the small of his back, you pushed him forward so that his upper half leaned against the counter and he had no choice but to face the mirror. Taking up your place behind him, you gently pressed the silicon attachment against him, while leaving a trail of soft kisses along his spine. Each time your lips touched his hot skin he would shudder, arching against you.

You reached forward to grab a handful of his dark luscious hair, before yanking his head back.

“How do you look, Muriel?” you asked, though his eyes remained shut and he did not respond. You brought a flat palm to his ass, and watched him jump at the impact.

“You’re not listening very well, you know,” you regarded him, rubbing his hips while pushing against him.

“I-I’m sorry,” he groaned, pushing back against you, but putting his head back in his arms.

“It’s no problem, I know how to make you listen,” you whispered, hooking a finger under the tight green elastic bands at his hips and gently tugging them down. You took note of the sharp breath he sucked in, and let out a quiet chuckle.

It’s not long before the lube under the sink had been retrieved and two fingers prepped.

“Ready?” you taunt, rubbing the slick on your fingers over his hole; at which he shuttered and gave a faint nod. Little time is wasted pressing your fingers into him, watching his back arch at the penetration and catching the nearly silent, guttural sound he lets out. You laugh again, taking your time stroking your two fingers over his insides. Though he tries to stay silent, little noises erupt from his chest time and time again, and you watch his legs get weak when you find that special spot. Eventually he begins rocking back against your fingers at his own pace, and you slowly add a third. His occasional noises turn into deep moans, and he refuses to lift his head from the counter; however judging from the deep red his shoulders and upper back have flushed, you would bet his face is the same color.

“Are you ready, Muriel?” you ask, stopping his movements and slowly pulling your fingers out of him.

“U-Uh-huh,” he groans, his legs shaking as he struggles to keep any sense of composure he has left.

You're quick to rub lubricant over the strap, wanting nothing more than to elicit the sounds you know he’ll make; and to move on to the next part of the plan. Slapping the silicon against him, you align the tip with his entrance, and in his desire he pushes back against you. The moan that falls from his lips sounds almost relieved if it weren’t so muffled.

Yet again, you reach forward to grab a handful of his hair, and pull his head back while you thrust forward, pushing the remaining length of silicon into him. The look on his face is one of pure pleasure, but it is unrivaled to the sound he makes.

“Good boy,” you praise, slowly rocking your hips to give him pleasure.

“Th-thank you, thank you,” he groans, trying to pull his head back down to rest in his arms.

“Muriel,” you call, yanking his head back more firmly and pulling out until only the tip remains inside him, “how do you look?”

The expression on his face changes from one of lust to confusion, and then his eyebrows furrow in worry, he does not open his eyes, and if the red on his cheeks could flare any darker it would.

“I-I,” he begins to mumble.

“If you want this dick,” you offer, “you’ll have to tell me you’re handsome.”

All is silent for a moment, his labored breath is loud, and it's easy to tell how eager he is as he tries to push his hips back against you.

“Pl-please,” he groans, ignoring your request.

“Please what?” you ask, “you know what you have to do.”

Again he pauses, only the sound of his breath penetrating the silence as he contemplates your offer. If it would really be worth it to lose all shame, and give in to your orders. He can feel tears welling at the thought of such an embarrassment, or maybe just at his neediness.

“I-I am…h-handsome,” he whispers, scrunching up his nose and barring his teeth while admitting it, voice so quiet it's nearly silent.

“What was that?” you ask, tugging on his hair once more.

“I-I a-am..”

“Open your eyes, handsome,” you order.

After a moment you catch a glimpse of his blown out pupils in the mirror; the forest green almost lost in a sea of black, and you smile. “Now, say it,” you order, thrusting the full length into him to remind him of hisreward.

“I a-am hands-some,” he says, loud enough to hear.

You give him a few more good thrusts, enjoying his oh-so deep mantra of groans that just seem to keep growing in pitch.

“You are sexy,” you affirm, stopping the movement of your hips to leave a quick kiss on his back.

“I am-m, s-sexy,” he whimpers, blown out pupils staring into themselves as you return to your pace.

As your thrusts get deeper his voice gets louder, and eventually your hand holding his hair moves forward to hold his throat. The vibrations of his gravelly voice are prominent against your palm, and it takes everything in you not to press down and see how good that voice sounds choked.

“You deserve this,” you moan, feeling your own coil tighten.

“I-I, oh~, I d-deser-erve this,” he nearly yells, the pleasure from your movements consuming his every thought that dare form

It isn’t long before his legs are giving out, and he shivers at each thrust you give him, though those are quite random and uneven considering your legs aren’t in much better shape. You grab hold of his hips to hopefully stabilize yourself, as you take in, for the last time, just how good he looks in lace. With a few more thrusts his voice is high and breaking, and he tenses as much as his body will allow, cumming untouched solely at this feeling of your strap. Your release follows shortly after and you collapse against him. The sweat on his skin sticking to yours, as some final post-orgasimal shivers flow through the both of you.

“Thank y-you,” he mumbles, reaching out behind him to languidly stroke your arm.

“O-of course, thank you, you were a very good boy,” you huff, lazily pushing yourself off of him, and slowly easing the strap out.

After a few moments he pushes himself up too, still unsure of his legs, and wraps you in a hug. Though it's sweaty, and neither of you are entirely confident in your ability to stand, the beat of his heart is the most comforting sound you have ever heard; and you can only think about what it means to you.

“We should probably shower,” he whispers, gently stroking your hair.

“Probably so,” you agree, pulling away from his warm skin to turn the shower on.

“That was honestly one of the best anniversary gifts ever,” he whispers sheepishly.

“Just so long as you know how much you mean to me,” you smile, carefully removing your harness so as not to fall.

He only manages a smile, following you into the shower with the thought of just how he would finish your ring.

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