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queerfanfiction · 2 months

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Kinktober — Public

Oops, this has been in my drafts for months... Probably should save it for Kinktober 2024 but....here. ❤️

Larissa Weems x Reader words: 2.5k

AO3 Link

Summary: Reader and Larissa sit together at the Poe Cup.

As October ended, the Vermont air clung to the last bits of autumn’s warmth. The trees were beautiful colors—leaves dappling the ground with warm tones. Sunlight danced across the water that stretched before you all the way to Raven Island. Nevermore’s Poe Cup was about to begin, and electricity filled the air. You could hear the sounds of hundreds of people moving around you with shouts, laughter, and singing. It seemed as if the entire academy was crowded around the grassy bank next to the lake, ready to witness the competition.

There were tents set up for each team, a refreshments table staffed with student volunteers, and various metal stands constructed to watch the festivities from. Banners were visible in the crowd of students; some supported the Gold Bugs, some the Black Cats, and so on. Carts of sweets and snacks were pushed about jovially. Larissa had made sure hot chocolate was available for the event, and you considered grabbing one for her.

The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning. When you caught sight of Larissa near the front of the crowd in her impeccably fitted dress, a mischievous smirk settled upon your face. The principal stood on a small red-carpeted wooden platform at the front of the crowd just before the water.

Wild, half-formed thoughts began whizzing through your lustful mind as you watched Larissa’s perfectly curated crimson lips move as she spoke to another faculty member enthusiastically. She always loved the Poe Cup. Arrangements for it began before the school year even started, since Larissa always had such fond memories of the competition. You could think of a few ways to ensure she enjoyed the event. One included your head under her dress in the team changing tents.

It had been a couple weeks since Larissa confided in you that she was interested in having sex in public. At first you were shocked by the confession; you didn’t expect proper, respectable, and responsible Larissa Weems to yearn for that kind of sexual gratification. When she had brought it up, you two were coming back from seeing a movie in Jericho. Your hand had found its way to her inner thigh, stroking circles against her soft skin. As innocent and comforting as the action was intended to be, Larissa confessed how arousing it was to be so intimate in a room with others there, completely unaware.

“I want to welcome you all to the Edgar Allan Poe Cup!” erupted Larissa’s voice, over the tumultuous buzz and applause of the crowd. Your cheeks flash pink as you realize you were lost in the thought of your concealed hands hard at work. You’d have to compose yourself a bit better if you were to put your plan into motion. Spectators screamed and clapped, some even waving their banners at Larissa excitedly as her voice echoed over the crowd. If they kept that level of commotion up, you were sure that any of Larissa’s later noises could be obscured…

The next thing you heard was “Let the Poe Cup begin!”

Larissa, looking ever so pleased with herself, pulls the trigger of the starting pistol to signal the beginning of the event. Even louder cheers fill the chilly air. Howls and whoops bellow as shrill as possible as everyone sets their eyes on the teams pushing off from the shore.

Beaming at you and not privy to your devious plan, Larissa comes to your side to join you in the metal bleachers. You let your eyes roam over the curves of her body—her deliciously long torso and toned legs. You would have probably imploded if your principal had looked like that growing up.

As she sits, you bring your hand to her back and rub it gently, as if you’re just offering encouragement and support. You briefly glance around to ensure you two are as uninteresting as anticipated. Satisfied, your hand begins to wander, providing faux-chaste touches. Your fingertips graze her neck, trail her arms, brush over her breast. You surmise that Larissa is clueless and intending to soliloquize about her years as co-captain for Ophelia Hall.

Sensing the need to take control of the moment, you utter huskily, just loud enough for her to hear, “You look so fucking good right now.” At that, your fingers make their way to fiddle with the edge of Larissa’s dress hem.

Larissa stiffens, suddenly acutely aware of the placement of your hands. “What are you doing?” A whisper—her tone demure and surprised. You could swear you heard a hint of panic bubbling up in her chest.

True, students were close, but who was really invested in their principal during the long-awaited Poe Cup? Your thoughts went to the extensive conversation you and Larissa had in the car weeks prior about each other’s green, yellow, and red sexual flags. Armed with knowledge of how badly she fantasized about the risk of almost being caught, you tentatively continued touching her thighs. Heat flashed through Larissa, stealing her breath and eliciting a gasp.

“Shh, Principal Weems.” You direct into her ear, knowing her slight change in breathing was most likely imperceptible alongside the trees swaying in the wind, the water lapping, and the simultaneous cheering and clapping. “Take off your scarf, and fold it in your lap.”

Her body followed the command almost automatically, and you slipped your hand under it. The sudden thrill gripped her. She couldn’t. They couldn’t. Not here. ...could they? The idea made her ache. Larissa chewed on her bottom lip, querying whether or not to let you proceed. They were in broad daylight among her students, not a dim movie theater with strangers. She couldn't believe this situation was actually turning her on.

“In fact, you’ll probably want to stay very, very quiet.”

Larissa tried to focus on keeping her breathing steady and her red lips firmly clamped shut. She couldn’t help but feel her heart begin to race. Excitement, desperation, panic, surprise, and overwhelming need all contributed to the rise of her pulse. Her eyes darted over to other faculty, paranoid that at any moment you two would be found out. Larissa’s brain was screaming at herself, but she couldn't stop. It was like the desire was controlling her body, and her mind just wasn't on the right receiver channel. Her immediate arousal and submission was a little embarrassing. Shouldn’t she be able to keep her professional life and private life separate? That didn't seem to matter, though; it was like her body was on autopilot for anything you wanted once you whispered in her ear.

Her cheeks got hot, and Larissa found herself inadvertently opening her legs a bit, like an invitation. With any luck, the average passer-by wouldn’t figure out what was going on.

“We can't do this here!" Larissa quietly hissed, sounding more flustered and docile than she meant to. She felt like that’s what she should say. Surely she could have more conviction, bat your hand away, cross her legs, ….anything. Larissa frantically glanced around one more time to make sure that no one looked towards you two; she desperately did not want to get caught. What a scandal for the school it would be.

Nearly surrendering, Larissa closed her eyes and considered the throbbing ache between her legs. She slid a hand onto your thigh, needing to brace herself. Your breathy voice whispering in her ear only made Larissa impossibly wetter. Who knew being called by her title would turn her on like this? Who knew sneaking around in front of students and faculty could make Larissa putty in your hands?

At this moment, Larissa overheard two students discussing the potential winnings of the betting pool they had orchestrated for the Poe Cup. She wanted to intervene, but she knew intervening would cost her. Instead, she pushed the reprimand that she owed the students down—below the knots of desire in her stomach.

With a fingertip hovering over Larissa’s silk underwear where you know her clit is, you begin to lightly graze the fabric up and down. Regardless of your warning for her to be silent, you can hear the groan and pant Larissa tries to obscure, indecent and deliciously sexy.

After leisurely making circles over the damp silk, Larissa began to subtly shift her weight in hopes of adding more friction.

“You like this, ‘Rissa?” Your voice was low and intoxicating as you teased her.

Before she could finish nodding, your fingers found their way under the silk fabric to her flesh. You could feel heat radiating off her, and it made you want to disregard everyone here and to taste her arousal. Your fingers moved through the soft tuft of hair on her mons pubis, hoping to tease Larissa further, until finally feeling her slick folds.

Larissa was thankful to be sitting down, because her knees would have buckled at that moment of contact. A whine of pleasure threatened to leave her throat, and it took all her willpower to stay quiet. The slight twitching of Larissa’s hips could be played off as excitement from the event. Plenty of movement surrounded you two. People knocked against each other getting to their seats or jumping up and down. ‘Excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s were exchanged loudly. No one much cared for what else was going on besides the race.

"Then fuck my fingers. Make yourself come.”

With that, you enter two fingers into her opening. Your palm arched against her clit, adding delectable pressure. Your two fingers were crooked inside of Larissa, searching for the exact right spot to titillate relentlessly.

The sounds of the Poe Cup faded away to a faint ringing. Larissa groaned and started to move her hips more exaggeratedly, as if she were properly shifting in her seat. Any hope of actually being able to pay attention to the race and narrate for the crowd was long gone.

In the meantime, you kept a steady rhythm, flicking your fingers inside of Larissa. The sound of her stifled pants and the way you could feel her twitching and tensing was driving you to the edge of despair. For one wild moment, you wondered if she’d be able to clamber onto your lap without anyone noticing. As if she was considering the same, Larissa desperately clutched onto the edge of the bench, making sure not to fumble with or accidentally tug at her scarf that way keeping your hand obscured.

A deep shudder of pleasure and relief ran through Larissa, catching her off guard. She let out a moan without thinking and then bit her lip to try and stop herself from making any more. Something that was getting increasingly difficult with the way your skilled fingers were working.

“Mmm, more." There was both an urgent pleading and spacey quality to Larissa’s tone.

“I’ve dreamed about touching you like this, and I can only keep going if you stay quiet,” you purr matter-of-factly to her.

As attractive as her begging was, you wanted to ride out the tension a bit longer before giving into her hunger and yearning. It was too fun to be in control of the woman who prided herself on her poise and authority. And doing so in public at her own school’s event.

Sensing that Larissa was getting more noisy and about to go over the edge at your words, you pull back. You remove your fingers from inside her and instead begin lightly tapping your fingers against her swollen clit.

Murmurs run through the crowd as the teams begun to row against one another back across the lake.

“Principal Weems?” An unfamiliar, youthful voice approached.

You whip your head towards the student interrupting you and Larissa. Your hand stills from under Larissa’s scarf that is concealing the true nature of your shared enjoyment. Your guard is immediately up, attempting to not give into alarm. Thankfully, the student’s gaze was focused out on the lake and only just meets yours and Larissa’s.

“Y-yes?” Larissa is able to respond, trying to put on her usual façade.

“Would it be okay if I used your binoculars? Yoko won’t share hers because they’re supposedly specially made to withstand the sunlight.” An indignant Enid, or so you assumed from hearing various stories, stood beside Larissa.

Even though much of the race was held in the distance, Larissa was likely the only faculty there with binoculars. Well, maybe one or two others had the sense to bring a pair.

“Of course, Ms. Sinclair. Please keep them for the rest of the event.”

“Oh, thank you, Principal Weems! You’re the best!” Enid grabs the binoculars and skips away without a clue to what she had interrupted. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Enid hold up the binoculars in a righteous manner and stick her tongue out at who you assume is Yoko.

You turn your attention back to the ghostly-pale woman beside you. You briefly check-in with her. “Still green?”

A breath and then affirmation. “Green.”

Your hand hadn’t left Larissa’s underwear, so you take back control of the situation.

“So naughty, Principal Weems…” you murmured. “About to be coming all over the bleachers. All over my hand… better keep quiet, otherwise, we’re bound to be interrupted again. Wouldn't that be terrible? If I had to stop touching you now, stop fucking you with my fingers?”

Larissa should be mortified. She should be careful. Neither are things she is interested in. Instead, her body twitches and aches at the use of her title again—the thought of being naughty and of getting away with it.

Your hand slips back down to Larissa’s opening. Larissa all but directs your fingers back inside her, eager to find a more lasting release. However, you knew that she was so tightly wound and that it would only take the faintest touch, a few slick circles on her clit before she shattered. Breathing in Larissa’s ear and telling her how wet you are while touching her brought her over the edge. She trembled beside you. In an effort to mask the spasm, you reached over with your free hand and rubbed her upper arm as if her shiver was due to the chilly autumn day.

Instead of stopping completely, your fingers moved in slow spirals, drawing out the aftershocks for as long as she could handle before leaning bonelessly against your side. The world narrowed to the warmth of your hand on her back, the lazy pulse between her legs. You place a kiss to Larissa’s forehead, murmuring that she had done so well for you.

A few calm moments passed where you two breathed together before the rumbling from the various Black Cat supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight. The whole crowd was on their feet, eager to decipher the team in the lead, and it looked like you two had gotten away with it.

“Well, that was exciting,” Larissa let out hoarsely.

A grin erupted onto your face as you stated, “And just with my left hand…”

Larissa shoved your arm in response before standing and adjusting her clothing, making her way over to the podium again announce the winners. Now this was a Poe Cup to remember.

#larissa weems #larissa x reader #larissa weems x reader #gwendoline christie #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #public #smut #poe cup #wednesday netflix

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queerfanfiction · 2 months

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#must read!!!!!#please go check it out #fic recs #to be read #i need to watch willow to adequately appreciate this magic...#tanthamore #willow 2022 #willow disney+

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queerfanfiction · 7 months

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She's waiting outside your house because you and her have a date. ✨

#best caption bc so fucking trueeeeeee

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queerfanfiction · 7 months

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Idk 🤷🏽‍♀️. Trying new things.

My IG

#ya tried and ya succeeded #very fucking cool

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queerfanfiction · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 1 — Breathplay

This is for my very first Kinktober! I probably won't post for every day, but I'm excited to share more Kinktober prompts!

Farah Dowling x Rosalind

AO3 Link

Summary: Rosalind had Farah in her clutches, metaphorically and quite literally too. She loved having power—power over Farah’s life especially. Her favorite kind of power was her hand over Farah’s throat and the sounds Farah made.

**I loosely follow the events of Season 1 while adding smutty flashbacks in italics.**

Farah’s eyes wandered over her outfit in the mirror, meticulously examining how the dark navy blue fabric hugged her neck. It had extra fabric ties in the front that she had unconsciously wrapped and tightened earlier that day.

Her thoughts shifted back to Rosalind.

Ben had found char residue on the dead shepherd outside the Barrier. It took nothing—barely a moment—for Farah to mention Rosalind. Her memory never slipped when it came to that woman. She knew it had been sixteen years, almost to the day since the last sightings of the Burned Ones. She had no idea why she felt a pang of protectiveness and defensiveness for Rosalind when Saul and Ben were discussing the Burned Ones returning.

Farah scrambled for control, too afraid of unraveling if they continued to discuss the woman Farah tried so hard to forget.

“Ben, what we think is irrelevant. The Barrier's doing its job.” Farah pauses, noticing her tone was harsh and final. Her friend deserved more; he was a pawn to Rosalind too. Farah’s next statement needed to project security and control.

“Until we know something for sure, let's clean this up before gossip starts.” Thankfully, Farah could mask her feelings about Rosalind by bringing up the safety of the students at Alfea. Farah turns nonchalantly, eager to find a safe space to go. What she felt was anything but indifference; she had to escape. She considered her office…well…it was once Rosalind’s office. Even if it had the dressings of being hers now, it was still was sat atop of Rosalind’s very prison. There was no escape from this woman’s clutches.

In an attempt to curb Rosalind’s haunting, all photos and mentions of Rosalind had been relegated to the abandoned east wing of campus. Farah hated how quickly she desired to discuss the previous headmistress. In fact, she had jumped at the chance to mention her name. It felt impossible to escape thoughts about Rosalind, especially with the current events occurring at Alfea.

Defiance. Disgust. Desire. Farah felt them all concurrently.

Could Rosalind still be seeping into Farah’s routine? Her hands reach for the fabric around her neck. Deciding whether or not to loosen it had beckoned a memory.

—

“My hands look divine around your neck. They’re the prettiest necklace you have, Farah.” The words oozed from Rosalind’s lips, so precise and taunting, as her hands squeezed the soft flesh of Farah’s throat. Rosalind’s humiliation made Farah even wetter between her legs.

Farah struggled to wrench Rosalind’s hands from her throat. Her eyes were beginning to swell with tears—her face beginning to change color. Farah is pinned against the sharp stone of the wall, and Rosalind drives her nimble fingers deeper into Farah’s wetness. Farah’s arousal was treacherous and betrayed her struggling hands clawing at her neck.

Rosalind ignored Farah’s pleas. They had negotiated terms, ones that included sparing Farah’s delicate windpipe and only applying pressure to the sides of the neck. Rosalind didn’t care. She wanted control. In fact, when Farah was breathless and gasping, it ensured she couldn’t talk back to Rosalind. She couldn’t defy Rosalind, and Rosalind liked it that way.

Of course, Rosalind consoled Farah further, musing, “Your lips are so kissable when parted and gasping my name.” Rosalind knew just how to manipulate to get what she wanted. She preyed on Farah. In response, this made Farah lean into Rosalind’s hold. There was an aspect of this dance between the two women that was mutually beneficial, even if the cons outweighed the pros for Farah. Farah craved the anchoring feeling Rosalind’s hand around her throat created. She didn’t yet understand how cruel the older woman was, rather she was under Rosalind’s spell. Farah was always rewarded for falling in line.

When Rosalind finally released her grasp of Farah’s neck, she kissed the younger woman hungrily, covering her mouth again. Farah could barely respond or even think, still taking in the rush of oxygen she was deprived of. Rosalind swallowed Farah’s every gasp and whine with the kiss.

—

Over the next coming weeks, Farah was confronted with Rosalind’s name so often that she had lost count. It was painful to mince the relationship she had with the previous headmistress. She simultaneously wanted to shout to make everyone understand how close she was to the woman while also never mentioning their connection again.

All Farah could utter when Bloom questioned her was, “I was her student…then her protégé.” …As if it really were that simple. Then again, Farah considered how she had always cared more than Rosalind did about their connection.

“Rosalind…She’s still manipulating people after all these years.”

This realization was tough for Farah and came swiftly after the events of Aster Dell. Bloom’s fixation on Rosalind scared Farah, because it reminded her of the hold Rosalind had over her for far too long. She remembered how she never doubted the older woman, never questioned her. It’s only years later that Farah can see Rosalind for what she was—unveil her tactics and all the secrets she never shared.

When Bloom let slip she knew Rosalind was being kept under the school and was still alive, Farah warned, “Whatever she has to give you is not worth unleashing her back into the world for, Bloom.” The ferocity with which Farah grabbed Bloom made both women pause and look into each other’s eyes.

Farah wasn’t sure she was ready to confront the prisoner below the school. She knew it was partially for selfish reasons, but Farah also knew it was best for Alfea if Rosalind stayed locked away.

The world shifted when Farah learned that Rosalind had been released, had escaped. Before seeing it herself in the tunnels below her office, she knew. Before Aisha frantically found Farah speaking with Ben and Saul, she knew.

A gentle gasp escaped from Farah as she stood at the top of the steps above where she had locked Rosalind away in stasis years ago. Farah stopped in her tracks, frozen to the spot momentarily. All she could do about what the emptiness before her symbolized was breathe. Farah stared in front of her as she took in a shaky breath.

Rosalind is free, wandering the grounds, putting Farah on edge again. At any moment, Rosalind’s hands might find her.

—

Farah felt the rough tugging of her hair, and her airway sealed shut as she struggled in Rosalind’s arms. In response, Rosalind sternly commanded, “Stop moving.”

Farah’s vision blurred, and she had an instinct that her hearing was also about to go. Just as she was about to pass out, Rosalind’s voice rang out and echoed as if it were far away. “Breathe.” And when Farah does breathe, Rosalind’s hard eyes bore into hers with desire.

Rosalind loved to see how long Farah could hold out—how long she’d let Rosalind suffocate her. How far could Rosalind execute her hold over Farah? Until death, apparently. This pleased her.

As Farah choked out strangled moans, her head continued to be fuzzy, her cheeks warm and pulsing with every beat of her heart. Farah’s inhales were raspy—strained and loud in the room as Rosalind traced the bruising under Farah’s jaw.

The markings from the strangulation were always reminders of her victories. It was almost as if Rosalind brought Farah back to life time and time again, making sure Farah’s life revolved around her only. She had the power to end Farah whenever she liked. Rosalind got off on tasting the almost fading life beneath her body.

And, oh, how Farah liked it too. That was a surprise to Rosalind at first. Farah seemed uptight, even when she was younger and had considerably less responsibility. Rosalind began to notice the signs of arousal on Farah when the older woman entered the room—how Farah wanted Rosalind’s approval and attention. Rosalind found it annoying until she realized she could make use of it. She could enjoy it, even. Rosalind reveled in testing if Farah would sneak around the school with her, if Farah would bend her ethics for Rosalind’s affection and praise.

The bucking of Farah’s hips drew a guttural moan from Rosalind’s own pink mouth. Farah’s desperation for release rivaled her desperation for air. Rosalind move her own pelvis against Farah’s, studying how the younger woman beneath her reacted. Farah trembles and shakes at the contact, gesturing for more.

Rosalind backs away for only a moment to marvel at the band of bruises wrapped around Farah’s neck and collarbones. Farah didn’t seem to be wheezing and gasping any longer, but Rosalind had an idea to remedy that.

With her long, leather-detailed coat still intact, Rosalind removed her undergarments and reached down to feel how slick her folds were after choking Farah.

An edge present in her voice, Rosalind offers for Farah to taste what she’s done. Rosalind climbs atop Farah and sits on her pale, flushed face. Farah’s arms were too weak to grip Rosalind’s legs and spread the woman’s folds herself. That didn’t matter to Rosalind. Instead, she lowered herself onto Farah, resting her full weight against Farah’s mouth.

“Get to work, Farah. I’m waiting.”

Farah laps up Rosalind’s wetness before locating and sucking on Rosalind’s clit with what little breath and strength she had left. Farah would prefer this over cool air on her tongue.

—

Bloom tried to tell Farah that Rosalind wasn’t a monster, that she had a reason to lie. Farah felt warm rage spill under her skin. Even as Farah yearned to shut down the conversation in any way possible to focus on the tasks at hand, she found herself responding in a heated but measured tone.

“Rosalind gave you just enough information to string you along. She's manipulating you. It's what she does.” Finally, it all clicked. Rosalind pulled down the school’s defenses from the Stone Circle, allowing the Burned Ones in. Farah couldn’t tell if she was pleased she was right about Rosalind or crushed that once again Rosalind proves that she will be relentless in getting what she wants even if it hurts others. Even if it hurts Farah.

Later when Farah catches Bloom, she has to reconcile the fact that Rosalind was right. She was correct about Bloom’s ancient power being able to defeat the Burned Ones. Her methods though… Farah reassured herself that her stance was unwavering. Even if Rosalind’s information was correct, her motives were not. Surely that was enough evidence to suggest Farah was vindicated in her actions since the start of term.

Still, it pained Farah to recount how Bloom had spent one night with Rosalind and unlocked ancient fairy magic, magic everyone thought was lost. Farah had to push through the instinct to be envious that Rosalind considered Bloom special. With a shake of her head, Farah thought about how Bloom was special and that she wouldn’t let Rosalind taint her relationship with Bloom.

Unsurprised by their eventual reuniting, Farah’s eyes were distant when she heard Rosalind’s judgmental voice. “You buried them. How noble.” Her tone was degrading. Rosalind always perceived Farah’s humanity as a weakness. Not wanting her back to Rosalind, Farah turned to face the woman she had so much history with. Farah was thankful to be wearing a turtleneck at this meeting, not wanting her bare skin to catch Rosalind’s eyes.

Throughout their exchange, Rosalind tried various manipulation tactics on Farah. Mysteriously withholding knowledge, acting exhausted by Farah’s behavior, centering her version of events…

Finally, after no luck in her efforts to control Farah, Rosalind gets to the point, “I fear you lack the composure to lead the next generation into it.” If she couldn’t persuade Farah to get close to her again, she had no use for Alfea’s current headmistress.

Farah finally takes the bait, sits beside Rosalind, and retorts, “And there it is. Once I stepped out from under your shadow, I saw a world full of light. Turns out this place isn't miserable. It was just you.” The two women were mere inches away from each other. Eyes found lips found eyes found lips. Their conversation turned breathy as Rosalind pulled another tactic into the conversation—Queen Luna and Andreas.

“So…” Rosalind shifts her body closer to Farah, “now all we have to talk about is you. I think you should take a sabbatical. Head to the mountains. Take a break.” Rosalind made her voice husky and entrancing now, knowing it used to be one of Farah’s weaknesses. The final nail in the coffin was uttered, “You've worked so hard, Farah.”

Praise. Gods, Farah used to melt and become moldable when Rosalind praised her. However, this time, when Rosalind tried it, Farah decided it was her turn to grab at Rosalind.

In all the confidence and defiance she could muster, she looked into Rosalind’s eyes and emphasized, “I am the headmistress of Alfea. And there's no way I'm leaving the school in your hands.”

With their faces so close that their noses were about to touch, Farah pulled away, determined not to fall back into old ways with Rosalind.

As if things were still going according to plan, Rosalind let slip, “I know that…” At this, Farah stopped in her tracks. She had heard this tone before, usually right before pain mixed with pleasure.

Rosalind stands and the crunching of leaves indicate that she walks closer to Farah. A familiar sensation creeps around Farah’s neck.

—

Rosalind came up behind Farah, pressing her body against the younger woman’s back. Rosalind’s voice whispered in Farah’s ear as she reached around to grab her throat. Rosalind’s other hand hiked up Farah’s pencil skirt and slid her fingers under the waistline of Farah’s panties.

“You were quite loud last time. Naughty, aren’t you?” Slow, husky words wrapped around Farah’s head and into her ears.

Already feeling like a live electrical wire in the rain from Rosalind’s touch, Farah would try, truly try to keep her choked gasps silent, but she knew it would be impossible. Her next inhale whistles through her constricted airway, and her lips already start to gape. Farah’s eyes flutter, and she cannot help but move her hips—hard and already desperate—against Rosalind’s hand lingering over Farah’s vulva.

Whimpering the best she can with Rosalind’s hand at her throat, Farah bucks forward towards the woman’s other hand, eager to feel the contact against her throbbing wetness. Feeling merciful, Rosalind relents. She thrusts two fingers into the writhing form in front of her. It wasn’t long before Rosalind decided to add another finger, stretching out Farah. Feeling the clear physical evidence of Rosalind’s influence over Farah was quite exciting. Again, Rosalind wanted to push it, test it.

“Could you stay quiet while taking my fist, do you think?”

Farah’s walls tighten around Rosalind’s fingers as she starts to twitch more frequently and her throat spasms under Rosalind’s iron-tight grip. Used to their almost daily sessions, Farah was starting to crave the moments she would begin to slip away. She welcomes the familiar dark spots teasing at the edge of her vision and the way her lungs begged for relief.

Farah’s ears ring; her face throbs. Rosalind’s thrusts get harder and harder, her grip gets tighter and tighter. A pool of hot white pleasure begins to form at the base of Farah’s spine as her eyes roll back in her head.

All Farah wanted was to be filled by Rosalind, wanted to be Rosalind’s. She wanted Rosalind to admit to mutual feelings and claim Farah. With each pump in and out of Rosalind’s fingers, Farah almost inaudibly wheezed, “I’m yours, yours, yours, yours.”

Tongue hanging out, drooling, mindless, and mine, Rosalind thought satisfactorily. Farah sags back against Rosalind, her muscles losing their strength with the continued restriction of oxygen.

Edging Farah on the precipice of unconsciousness, Rosalind finally releases her white-knuckled grip on Farah’s throat. She calculates the perfect amount of pressure to keep Farah submissive and constricted but awake. Rosalind continues to pound her fingers into Farah, making contact with the tender spot internally that she knew Farah liked. Farah’s eyes flicker until Rosalind takes her thumbnail and flicks it sharply against Farah’s sensitive, swollen clit.

What would have been a cry of pleasure and pain, is stifled by Rosalind’s hand that had moved from Farah’s red, marked neck to cover her mouth. Rosalind feels the other woman’s rasps against her palm, begging to be let out as Farah comes.

Rosalind bites down on the earlobe of the woman coming undone before her. She then breathes in Farah’s ear, “You’re mine? What makes you think I want you?”

—

“The rest of the world might believe it…” Farah is hoisted up by Rosalind’s magic, feeling the echoes of Rosalind’s hands at her throat.

“And if they don’t,” Rosalind continues, “what the fuck are they gonna do about it?”

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #breathplay #farah dowling #rosalind #fate series #fate the winx saga #farah dowling x rosalind #farah x rosalind #bruises #minors dni #minors do not interact #Spotify

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queerfanfiction · 7 months

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for the work in progress thing, whats "a touch like a sharp and glorious thorn"? love your work btw =]

Ooooh, thank you!!

I almost called it "Corruption", and it is my first Chilling Adventures of Sabrina fic. It's not fully fleshed out yet, but basically a new teacher with a crush on Mary Wardwell suddenly notices the change in her demeanor in S1. They pine over "Mary" who is really Lilith. And Lilith has too much fun with it... Will they eventually find out Mary is now Lilith?

#wip ask game #wip game #ask #anon #caos #mary wardwell #lilith #madam satan #chilling adventures of sabrina #lilith x reader #mary wardwell x reader #madam satan x reader

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queerfanfiction · 7 months

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Obsessing over her voice.

@bri-sonat, this one's for you

Masterlist

#yes yes yes yes yes #pump it into my veins #is it hot in here???

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queerfanfiction · 7 months

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My IG (don’t remove link)

#this is actually unreal #how are you this good at procreate???#and how does this not have 17000 notes?????#art

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queerfanfiction · 7 months

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10, 14, 16

-🐉

Ooo okay

10~ love letters and my other story I want to start once I finish happy hours and love letters. So I can’t announce the plot but the name will be the Scarlett woman

14~ hmm i don’t mind the pervert adult x character of legal age, but I definitely draw the line at incest and hard kinks which are in my what I write

16~ from those around me, daily life, music, lots of wonderful accounts here like @just-your-casual-nerd @cissyenthusiast010155 @i-write-sometimes-maybe @hxzxrdous @storiesofsvu @daydream-cement @queerfanfiction @weemssapphic @pebbleswritessometimes @littlexscarletxwitch @littledollll @romanoffsbish and many more. Plus all my readers anyone who really interacts with me. It fuels me to write

#you're actually so sweet!!!!#there are so many amazing people tagged here that i feel privileged to be considered alongside them #thank you!!!!#<3

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queerfanfiction · 7 months

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pairing: ceo!wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: wanda exploits your weakness for her, and fucks you in her office

content warnings: smut obvi, possessiveness, fingering, thigh grinding, a little bit of choking, slight exhibitionism

word count: 3.3k+

masterlist

Fingers Are My Weakness

‘I miss you, come to my office.’

You smile at your phone, sitting back in your seat as you come up with a response. You quickly turn the brightness down on your screen, fingers typing quickly as you bite your lip slightly.

“Hey, are you ready to go over some of the procedures?” The voice is slightly grating on your ears, and you quickly delete your response as you lock your screen. Looking up, you see the woman who’s been showing you around all day looking at you with an expectant look on her face.

Shit, what was her name?

“Oh! Uh…” You check the time on your phone, noting that the workday had ended for almost everyone else. “Right now? I thought that procedures could wait until tomorrow?”

A condescending smile appears on her face, and you blink in surprise when she starts speaking. “Yeah, right now. It’s typical for newbies to stay late their first few days, just to get you up to speed. That’s ok with you right?”

Your phone dings, the woman’s eyes snap to it. Your fingers tighten around your phone, almost protectively. You huff slightly in annoyance, noticing the way the woman’s eyes linger on your legs, right where your skirt ends mid thigh.

“Fine, just let me respond to this.”

Looking down, your heart jolts at the message you’d just received. It’s a single word, and sends shivers of nervousness down your spine.

‘Now.’

Wanda Maximoff was not a woman you wanted to displease. Ever. You'd been on the receiving end of her ire more times than you could count, and although it was always enjoyable, the thought of punishment for disobeying a direct order sent your heart racing.

The woman - Hailey, you remembered now - moved towards you, her heels clacking on the floor as she pulled a chair next to your desk. You had your phone angled away from her, fingers flying across the keyboard as you tried your best to minimize the punishment you'd surely receive for disobeying.

‘I’m sorry, I can’t right now. Hailey is going over procedures with me. I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.’

You flip your phone over again, sure that your face is heating up. Your fingers tremble in your lap as you lace them together tightly. Fortunately, Hailey is too focused on not-so-subtly peeking down the front of your low cut shirt to notice your flustered state. You clear your throat, annoyance building as you raise your eyebrows at her.

Coughing slightly, Hailey pulls out a packet of information and places it in front of you. You flip through the first few pages, groaning internally at the sheer amount of information crammed onto each section. Hailey’s speaking again, her voice high and scratchy. It is nothing like the voice you actually want to hear.

Just as that thought crosses your mind, your phone dings again, but you force yourself to ignore it. Avoiding eye contact with Hailey, you force yourself to flip to the second page as she drones on. You can practically feel the boredom take over you, your eyes drooping as you relax into your seat.

Sneaking a glance at your phone, you see that Wanda has sent another message. Suddenly awake, you open your texts and read, your eyes wide.

‘I thought you wanted to be a good girl?’

Your eyes flick over to Hailey, noticing that she’s now fixating on her laptop, seemingly searching for a specific page in a pdf. You hide your phone between the pages of your packet, typing with one hand while the other nonchalantly rests on the paper.

‘I am a good girl, just busy rn. I’ll see you later.’

Locking your phone, you try to focus. Hailey’s voice is making your ears bleed, and you constantly find your thoughts wandering to a certain person. More specifically, your girlfriend, who just so happened to be the boss of the current company you worked at.

A loud noise startled you out of your thoughts, the images of long hair and green eyes fading as you turned to look at Hailey. She snapped her fingers again, right under your nose as your eyes went slightly crossed in an effort to track her movements.

“Listen, newbie,” She started, her eyes glancing down at your chest. “Just because you’re a personality hire doesn’t mean that you get to slack off, alright?”

You felt anger rise, your thoughts churning as you glared at her with thinly veiled disgust. You’d actually worked very hard for this job, submitting an application and going through the same interview process as everyone else. Your girlfriend hadn’t actually known that you applied until your resume made its way to her desk along with the other final candidates for the position.

She’d fucked you in many different positions that night, her praises never ending as you came over and over again. You’d begged her to be fair in the selection process, not wanting to only be hired because she ordered it. Wanda had agreed, saying that she’d refrain from the hiring process altogether for your special case.

Breathing deeply, trying to calm yourself, you were about to respond to Hailey when your phone buzzed again.

“Okay, who the fuck is texting you so much.” Hands reach for your phone, but you quickly pull it away. There’s an unimpressed look on Hailey’s face, her palm out as she expectantly glances at your phone.

You sigh, unlocking your phone to see that Wanda has sent an image along with a message. No way in hell were you letting Hailey see the potential contents of that message.

“It’s actually our boss.” Your tone is short, your words clipped as you raise a single eyebrow. You pride yourself on mastering your girlfriend’s infamous ‘I’m pissed’ face as Hailey takes in your expression and pales at your words.

“Wait…” Hailey fumbled her words, trying to remedy the situation. “You have Wanda Maximoff’s phone number?”

You smirk, mindful of how long it's taken you to respond. Any second, Wanda would probably come storming down the hall, wondering what on earth was more important than her. “I do, and I should probably respond soon, don’t you think?”

Hailey waves her hands in a flustered ‘go ahead’ gesture as she ducks her head. You give her one last glance, before angling your phone away and opening the message.

First you see the photo, an image of Wanda’s fingers splayed out on her desk, contrasting beautifully against the dark wood, her veiny hands catching your attention. You feel yourself flush, nervous butterflies erupting as you glaze at the long fingers and delicate gold rings adorning them. Then, your eyes flit down to the attached message,

‘Mommy’s fingers miss your pussy, darling. Don’t be a brat.’

You suck in a deep breath, your heart thudding as Hailey looks over at you, craning her neck to try and see your phone. Shooting her a glare, you jolt when another text pings through.

‘If you want to be a good girl, then you can come to my office and suck my fingers. Is she more important than I am?’

You feel lightheaded, and any thoughts of going over procedure with the nosy brunette next to you vanish. You mutter some excuse about how Wanda needed you in her office, and to not wait up for you. Hailey says something, but you wave her off, already packing your bag and walking towards the large doors that lead into Wanda’s office.

Cursing your girlfriend out in your head, you can’t help the way your thoughts keep returning to that picture of her fingers. You should have known she’d use that against you, and you regretted ever sending her that drunk text. The one where you confessed your obsession with her hands, calling them ‘perfect to suck on’ and telling her you ‘wished she would wrap them around your throat like a necklace’.

Pushing open the heavy door, you make your way inside the dimly lit office. For some odd reason, Wanda didn’t like to use the overhead light, claiming it wasn’t good for her eyes or complexion. You personally didn’t care, as you thought your girlfriend looked good in any lighting. The room smells like vanilla, and the air around you tightens when you finally catch a glimpse of your girlfriend.

The look on Wanda’s face can only be described as stony. You can tell that she’s upset, only seconds away from unleashing her frustrations upon you, and you waste no time. Setting your bag down near the door and closing it, you quickly walk towards your girlfriend as she slowly moves her chair away from her desk, gesturing for you to sit in her lap.

You start speaking, your words rapid as you attempt an explanation. “I’m sorry Wanda, I couldn’t get away any sooner. Hailey…” You see a flash of anger in those cold green eyes, and resolve to never mention the girl’s name again. “Um, she was really insistent on going over procedures, and…”

The rambling explanation you’re fumbling through is interrupted by Wanda, her voice holding a dark edge to it as she asks you, “What did you just call me?”

“I’m sorry, mommy.”

A satisfied look makes its way onto your girlfriend’s face, and you sit on her lap hesitantly. In this position, your face is just inches away from hers, and you can’t help the way your eyes flit down to her lips.

“Tell me, baby,” Wanda begins, a dangerous look in her eyes as she slowly rolls her chair back towards her desk, trapping you between her and the dark wood. “Does she want what’s mine?”

You bite your lip, knowing that your answer could potentially get Hailey fired. Then, you remember how rude she was and the way her eyes wandered where they shouldn’t have, and the words came rushing out.

“I mean, yeah. She kept looking down my shirt, and I kept having to tug my skirt down cause her eyes were constantly on my thighs.” The words are quiet, and you watch Wanda carefully for a reaction. Her eyes glint coldly, one of her hands wrapping around your throat as the other digs into your waist.

“Did she touch you?”

You can’t help the whimper that escapes you, her sharp words sending a flash of heat through your body. Your clit throbs, and you rush to respond. “No mommy, only you’re allowed to touch me.”

Wanda hums, a small smile appearing on those beautiful lips for a moment. “Good girl.”

“She, um.” You hesitate, Wanda’s hand squeezing your throat tightly at your continued silence. “She also called me a personality hire.”

Green eyes darken, and you know that Hailey will not show up to work the next morning. Or ever again. You try to calm your girlfriend, your hands coming up to cup her cheeks as she looks over your shoulder towards her door, her eyes blazing as different images of Hailey’s wandering eyes worm their way into her possessive brain.

A whimper sounds out, ringing around the otherwise quiet room as the pressure against your neck becomes too much to handle. Wanda relaxes her grip, pulling her hand away as she leans in. Her lips attach themselves to your throat, her teeth sharp as she sucks dark bruises into your sensitive skin.

Your moans flow freely, your hands sliding into Wanda’s hair and massaging her scalp as she marks you. When you attempt to roll your hips, needing some friction against your aching core, you find that your waist is thoroughly pinned between Wanda’s body and the desk.

Long fingers find your lips, and you close your eyes as you wrap your lips around the very thing that you’d been fantasizing about. She presses the digits against your tongue, sliding them in and out of your mouth as you gag slightly, your tongue swirling around them.

“Are you needy, baby?” Wanda asks after a few minutes, her voice raspy as she finally pulls back from your neck. She can sense your hips attempting to move, and raises an eyebrow at you as you fight to speak around her fingers. After a few moments, she smirks at your pleading look and pulls her fingers out, wiping them on the front of your shirt.

“Yes, mommy.” You’re breathless, your muscles straining as you fight to keep still against her.

Wanda smiles wider, rolling back her chair as she nods at you. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Get yourself off on mommy’s thigh.”

You hesitate, wondering if this was a trick. The hand at your waist pushes, and at the feeling of your soaked pussy sliding against her leg, you start moving. Your breaths are shaky, your hands trembling in her hair as you move your hips quickly.

It doesn’t take long until you’re a moaning mess, your forehead resting on her shoulder as you grind your core against her thigh. You can barely think straight, all your thoughts locked on your impending orgasm as you mindlessly move your hips faster. You feel Wanda’s hand tangle with your hair, and she wrenches your head back.

Green eyes watch your lips part, a strangled gasp leaving you at the abrupt action. Your hips are still moving, your hands limp around her shoulders as you chase your high. Wanda smiles at the sight of your glossy eyes, soft moans falling from your lips as your wetness spreads on the silky fabric of her pants.

“Having fun darling?” Wanda’s voice is teasing and you whine. Her tone hardens, her hand squeezing painfully in your hair as she reminds you, “Remember to ask permission to come.”

You know it's a trap, you couldn’t say why, but you knew she wouldn’t give in that easily. Not after you’d ignored her for so long, your attention not solely focused on her. She hated it when someone else caught your attention, and you loved her possessive nature, no matter how much the punishments hurt.

“I want… please, mommy.” You can’t even get out a full sentence, your words broken up by breathy moans. It makes Wanda throb, and she forces your jaw up from where your head had been drooping, wanting those glossy eyes focused on her.

“Touch me,” You begged, your thumb rubbing circles against the back of her neck. “Please touch me mommy, I can’t come without your help.”

This time, it's Wanda who lets out a moan. The sound is low, resonating in her chest as she brings a hand to your pussy. At the first touch of your glistening folds, she’s hooked. She never has been able to resist you, not when you're dripping around her fingers and staring at her with adorably blown pupils.

“Don’t worry, darling.” Wanda murmurs, letting your head fall against her forehead as she enters you with two fingers, burying them knuckle deep as you whine. “Mommy’s brainless little slut can come however much she wants.”

The words shoot straight to your core, and you know your orgasm is mere seconds away. You frantically press your lips to Wanda’s, sucking and biting as she slips her tongue inside your mouth, deepening the kiss. You attempt to convey your desperation to her, and you think she understands when she nudges your clit with her thumb.

A few more purposeful touches, and you’re falling apart in her lap. Wanda breaks the kiss, your lips unresponsive as you gasp against her cheek. You shudder, your walls clamping down around her fingers as she continues to thrust into you at a brutal pace. Her fingers curl, and you sense a second orgasm approach while you’re still trembling from the aftershocks of the first one.

“Wait, mommy. It’s too much, please.” You’re whimpers go unheard, Wanda’s fingers still fucking you deeply as her lips return to your neck. You feel her teeth scrape your collarbone, and another orgasm rips through you when she bites down.

Your body aches, the sensations overwhelming you in seconds. You’re highly aware of Wanda’s teeth sinking into your collarbone, her lips sucking harshly as you writhe against her. You can feel your juices leaking around her fingers, the once pleasurable heat in your core now agonizingly painful as she slows her thrusts.

“Mommy…” Your voice is just above a whisper, your breaths shaky as you try and form more words.

Wanda slips her fingers from you, bringing them up to your parted lips and forcing them into the wet heat of your mouth. She strokes your hair with her other hand, bringing you down as she murmurs, “I know baby, Mommy’s got you.”

Sucking softly, you smile around her fingers dazedly, your eyes slightly unfocused as they bore into Wanda’s. She smiles back, pressing her lips to your forehead, and leaving soft kisses over your damp cheeks as you giggle.

“Good girl, I’m so proud of you sweetheart. Since you were so good for me, would you like to feel mommy’s strap when we get home?” You nod quickly, your mouth still occupied with her fingers, sucking off your arousal as she watches with darkened eyes.

Wanda opens her mouth to continue, when a sharp knock on her door stops her. You’re much too hazy to care, all your attention focused solely on your girlfriend. She pulls her fingers from you, kissing you quickly before calling out for the person to enter.

You jolt, remembering the compromising position you’re in, but strong hands hold your hips still as a warning look appears in Wanda’s eyes. You stare back with wide eyes, and Wanda swivels her chair until she can see the very same employee you’d been complaining about walk in.

Hailey looks up from the papers in her hand, her eyes widening comically at the sight in front of her. Wanda watches her eyes take in the dark hickeys covering your neck and collarbone, your smudged lipstick and messy hair, before she stammers slightly as she attempts to speak.

Nothing comes out, her words a strained sort of whimper as her eyes bounce back and forth between Wanda’s satisfied and smug expression, and your submissive, relaxed pose. You look down, an embarrassed flush creeping up the back of your neck as Wanda’s hand rubs soothing circles against your thigh.

“I’ve heard some interesting things about you.” Wanda says, her words drawn out as she regards the shocked employee standing in her doorway. Hailey’s eyes widen even more than they already are, and she opens and closes her mouth as she tries to find an explanation.

Wanda tilts her head, and the color drains from Hailey’s face. You shiver, having been on the receiving end of that look before, and you can’t help but pity the poor girl trembling in your girlfriend's doorway.

“I hope you’ve learned a valuable lesson today,” Wanda begins, her voice low as she grabs your jaw, tilting your head up so Hailey can see the full extent of your hickeys. “That you shouldn’t lust over something that isn’t yours.”

Hailey nods her head so quickly that it looks seconds away from falling off. Wanda waves her hand impatiently, a silent order for the girl to get out of her office. She takes a final look at you as she turns to leave, her eyes apologetic and wide as she grips the papers tightly in her fist, the edges wrinkling under her fingers.

“By the way,” Wanda begins, stopping Hailey in her tracks. “You’re fired.”

You barely hear the door close, your eyes wide as you turn towards your girlfriend. You can’t help the small smile that appears on your face, your pussy clenching around nothing at the power she’d just shown.

It’s almost as if Wanda has a sixth sense for you, her senses attuned to your body as if you shared a soul. She drops her eyes to your thighs, smirking as you gently grind down against the dark fabric of her pant leg. A single finger places itself under your chin, and you let your head raise as her green eyes bore into your own.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you plenty of orgasms once we get home.”

You can’t fucking wait.

#this is one of the fics that just pushed me over the edge to watch wandavision #jesus y'all are talented out here

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queerfanfiction · 7 months

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#starting wandavision for the first time #bc it's been on my list forever #and bc i'm TIRED of the hot Wanda or Agatha fics that i have no context for but are so good #can i get a hell yeah?

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queerfanfiction · 7 months

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yes, yes i have so many WIPs but....isn't anyone going to submit a request instead?????

#requests are open #and welcome #just saying

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queerfanfiction · 7 months

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Gwendoline Christie at Brussels Heroes Comic Con, 23.09.2023

#she feeds us and gives and gives #i love you bitch i ain't ever gonna stop lovin' you bitch

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queerfanfiction · 7 months

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hi!! could i request a Lucifer fic where the reader repeatedly tries to persuade them into taking her flying? and when they do go flying, it’s really cute and fluffy!!

thank youu, i hope you have a great day <33

Flying

Prompt is shown above. :)

word count: 1.5k includes: fluff; no content warnings i don't think?

“Oh, come onnnnn.” Your singsong voice badgered at Lucifer. “Pleeeeeeease??” They hated when you got stuck on an idea and wouldn’t let go of it. So far, you have bugged them about eating dinner together as a date (even though they don’t technically need to eat), making a music streaming account, and why they don’t have 300+ degrees being immortal and all. Humans were so stubborn—you especially. The past few weeks you were relentless about Lucifer taking you flying.

“I want to feel untethered! From the ground. From everyone. From reality.”

“Being untethered is not what you imagine it to be,” a pensive voice recounts softly, almost as if they were reliving a memory and providing a cautionary tale. At this, you reign in your excitable energy and peer at the once-angel before you. They normally reacted in an annoyed manner when you brought up flying. Now their eyes were distant and unfocused, giving you a rare chance to examine them without their awareness. You knew they often masked their interior thoughts and feelings, probably as a deflection or defense. You didn’t know why they did it, since no one dares to mess with one of the most powerful beings in the universe.

An overwhelming need to wrap Lucifer into your arms arises within your chest, aching to be fulfilled. You’re not sure how that would be received, though… Lucifer usually initiated contact between you two, and being new to a relationship together, you were unsure about the unspoken boundaries between you.

You settle for slowly approaching. Your steady hand extends to graze the pale, fixed jaw of the god before you. In a whisper, you plead, “Come back to me.”

Another moment passes. The change in them is almost imperceptible—a hardening or tucking away of memories and emotions occurs. Their eyes focus and lose the glossy, distant shine to them. With a mischievous smirk extending over their features, Lucifer retorts, “You’re sure you don’t want to be untethered?”

“Tether yourself to me.”

With that, you shift onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to Lucifer comfortingly. You knew the time for playful nudging was over. After a few moments of gentle and precise kisses, a hunger replaces the careful, sweet energy. You think about how flying can wait.

Finally, one day Lucifer relents to your requests to take you flying. The requests were now a routine between you two—a dance of sorts. You would endear yourself to Lucifer and sit in their lap with rather large puppy dog eyes. With each stern and polite decline, soaring through the air while clutching onto the lean, capable torso before you became seemingly improbable. That’s why you were surprised when they relented to your begging. It felt out of place almost. You would have thought Lucifer’s newfound agreeance was a joke or prank, but their eyes were deliberate and decided.

Their body language turned more serious and direct, and they ordered you to sit down in front of them. Lucifer took your hands in theirs, not caring that their abrupt and direct actions had caused yours to turn clammy. What came next was a long discussion of consent, boundaries, and what to expect when flying.

“At any time, you may signal for us to slow or stop.” Then, Lucifer reasoned, “You may feel uneasy. It is not for mortals…” You could swear you heard affection and concern in their voice.

You didn’t know what to expect, and questions filled your mind. Would Lucifer run off the balcony in Hell? Do they need momentum to fly? Is there a secret way to exit Hell when flying? How do mortals not see them in the sky? Had Lucifer ever taken another human flying before?

Unsure of how to proceed, you only nodded obediently. Lucifer reached for you, sensing your hesitation now that you are presented with the very thing you desired. Your heart reacted—thrumming faster in your chest at the contact and anticipation. “Come now,” Lucifer cooed.

You climbed into their lean arms, feeling safe and secure against them. Funny how the ruler of Hell, the eternally damned, was the one you trusted with your life. The irony was not lost on you. Still, though, it wasn’t something you were ashamed of. The Lucifer you knew was charming and mystifying…and really cared for you. You knew they did, because it was apparent in their actions and demeanor. They made sure you were comfortable and unbothered by others in Hell when you visited. They dropped in on you throughout the day when you were on Earth living your life. Lucifer didn’t even break your phone or make you turn off the music when a One Direction song came on shuffle.

Lucifer’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. “Ready?”

In only a blink of your eye, you and Lucifer were somewhere outside on Earth. If you had to guess, you’d say some U.S. national park in the northwest—some of the trees were as wide as cars and the air felt crisp and cool against your skin.

“Hold on tightly to me.” This whisper from Lucifer fills the air between you two, giving you goosebumps across your arms. With that, they stretched out their wings and pushed away from the ground with only one substantial thrust.

Being airborne…it was almost like…..gliding through the sky, rather than powered flight. Lucifer’s wings were definitely moving, but unlike anything you could have imagined. They weren’t flapping or producing thrust. Instead, the wings reminded you of how things move and distort underwater. The flight stroke was so unusual, defying physics. It was as if there was no effort or strain for them.

Meanwhile, you felt pressure all over your body. You expected to feel like Rose at the front bow of the Titanic or a happy dog with its head out the window. You expected the cool air to whip against your face and burn your cheeks. However, this…produced tingles all over your body. A wooziness in your head, almost as if you were in a slowed-down dream. You didn’t feel sick; you felt intoxicated. Is it from a lack of oxygen? You could breathe perfectly fine, though. You think back to Lucifer’s words of caution, and you’re still not frightened. Flying with Lucifer felt almost like being both in yourself and outside yourself simultaneously. It was magical.

The evening sun glistened against your lover’s blonde curls. You found yourself wanting to admire the view below and around you, but the determined face of the once-angel before you was too mesmerizing. You hope this won’t be the only time they take you flying, because you haven’t been able to focus on any of the beauty from the aerial view you found yourself in.

You could feel Lucifer’s steady breathing, which boggled your mind considering the activity you two found yourself in. Then again, you expected your own breathing to be choked or unwieldy. You felt so calm and trance-like. Lucifer was holding you with such care, occasionally glancing down to ensure you were okay.

Unknowingly, tears began to wet your cheeks. They started slowly but fell quicker and quicker. It took only moments for Lucifer to see that you were crying. Worry immediately plastered itself over their face. Their concern led them to land (in a vast field of rolling hills) as soon as they could. You questioned in your head how far you two had traveled to go from cedars and firs to grassy meadows.

“Are you okay? Was it too much? I never should have taken you. Foolish.”

Confusion hung over you, because you felt amazing. Well, a bit sad to be torn away from the experience so abruptly. You had so many emotions swirling through you, and you couldn’t translate how severely you felt for the being in front of you.

In response, all you could utter was, “W-what? I’m happy.” So very happy.

Lucifer swipes at the wetness on your cheeks and brings a finger in front of you as a way to question why you were crying.

“They’re good tears. I’m…leaking joy.” You couldn’t quite explain how you felt, and you knew your spacey rambling probably wasn’t satisfactory in reassuring Lucifer. In fact, a puzzled look appears on their face. You knew Lucifer didn’t like to be befuddled or to misunderstand a situation, so you quickly clarify, “You bring me so much joy.”

Lucifer’s concern subsides a bit. It’s been so long since Lucifer was the cause of pure joy. They almost forgot what it was like, how addicting it could be. It made them want to never let you down, give into your every silly, human request. The glassy, pleased look in your eyes made Lucifer want to crawl out of their prison of pompousness and self-hatred. Here you were appreciating them and getting closer to them with no ill intent or expectations of anything in return.

Lucifer stroked your hair and kissed your forehead—thankful you were okay. It was in this moment that they decided taking you flying would be a regular occurrence.

#hi muffintopxs i'm sorry this took so long #thank you for being so amazing and patient!!#i hope you like!#ficlet #request #flying #lucifer the sandman #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer sandman #lucifer x reader

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