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micropoe10 · 2 months ago

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This was absolutely delicious!!!

sleeping beauty

synopsis: dr. zayne coming home later than expected and finding his sweet girl asleep while wearing a new set.

cw; smut (18+ mdni), somnophilia, male masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v, prone bone, praise kink, pet names (sweetheart, darling), mentions of phone sex, soft(?) sex, creampie, missionary

wc; 2.9k

he entered the house late one night, dragging his feet on the wooden floors as he walked in. god, he doesn’t even know what time it is. 4, 5am? zayne feels absolutely horrible—he said he’d be home by midnight, yet an emergency surgery held him back. he doesn’t expect you to be awake, that would be absurd, but he does get curious as he sees a note on the kitchen counter.

‘surprise in the bedroom for you, love’ the note read, in your handwriting. it was written in red ink with hearts all over it.

huh? he raised an eyebrow, rereading the note again. and again. there’s no way you’d still be awake.

zayne keeps holding onto the note as he walks into your shared bedroom, confusion written clearly on his feautures as he slowly opens the door. you’re asleep, he knows you are. he cringes when the door hinges squeaks, stopping his movements. he pushes the door open again, just enough for him to slip into the room before he closes it behind him. he made sure to turn the handle before the door closed, staying as quiet as possible.

his eyes flickered over to the bed, seeing your sleeping form. you cuddled his pillow, arms wrapped around it as if it were him. it was something he often caught you doing when he was away, and it made his heart melt more every time he saw it.

he chuckled under his breath. cute, he thought.

the lamp on your nightstand was on the lowest setting, casting a warm yellow glow over your slumbering body. zayne took a step closer to the bed before his breath hitched—you were wearing a new lingerie set.

it was his favourite colour on you, too. a rich pink, the colour of perfectly ripe raspberries. the lace of the lingerie had intricate designs, flowers and vines with lighter pink accents. the colour made the tone of your skin pop as it accented your curves, making you seem that much more beautiful and feminine in his mind.

the set didn’t leave much to the imagination—not that he needed it, anyway. but he couldn’t deny how absolutely breathtaking you looked, all dolled up and pretty as you snuggled against his pillow.

his pants grew tight at the display.

your handwriting in red ink caught his eye again. there’s a note on your bedside table, accompanied with a bottle of lube and your fuzzy pink handcuffs. ‘go crazy. please.’

his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiled, leaning down to place a kiss on your temple.

a shower and then he’ll do as you asked, he decided.

☃︎⋆꙳•❅*ִ

zayne doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. the door’s cracked open just enough so he can see you, and he just can’t seem to take his eyes off you. even through the fogged up glass of the shower he can see the silhouette of your body, blurs of pretty pink lace adorning your skin.

before he knows it, his hand is on his cock. thick and veiny, it’s hard just from the thought of you. he teases himself as he yearns for you, wishing it was your hand instead. he tugs on himself, eyes fluttering as his jaw grows slack, a breath escaping his throat. he turns around in the shower so the water hits his back before tugging again, eyes flitting closed as he rasps your name. he could physically feel his knees weaken; what was happening to him?

zayne reaches a hand towards the shower wall, steadying himself as hot water continues to downpour on him. he’s burning. it’s too hot, it’s too much. he turns the temperature down, turning around so the colder water hit hit face, his chest. his eyes are still closed as he unhurriedly strokes himself, another hiss of his lover’s name tumbling past his lips.

now that he thinks about it, when was the last time the two of you had been intimate? with both of you leading busy lives, zayne being a doctor and you being a hunter, spending time with one another was rare. but you knew it would be like this even before you became official, both of you did. nonetheless, you made it work—navigating through the thick and thin.

zayne’s horny mind quickly found itself thinking about the phone sex from a week ago; it had become a norm in your relationship. he loved hearing your sighs and whimpers over the call as you tried to keep yourself quiet in your cold, empty hotel room you often found yourself in during missions. but still, whenever it happened, your fingers could never replicate the feeling of his dexterous ones, and his fist didn’t feel as good as your dainty one. it was in no way as good as the real thing, but it was good enough to satisfy both of you when you’re apart.

but now you’re here, and so is he, and he’s so excited. it’s painfully obvious with the way he is shamelessly touching himself, eyes half lidded as they roam down your silhouette. his sweet, loving girlfriend is finally home, wearing new lingerie, has given him her consent and he is definitely going to be taking advantage of it.

he comes out of the shower a few minutes later, not even bothering with getting dressed. zayne just had his towel hanging low on his hips, hair still damp. he didn’t let himself finish, wanting to do it when he fucks you instead. plus, why would waste cum when he can dump it in you? his mind gets full of ideas, but when he’s standing beside the bed his heart goes soft. he picks up the note again, rereading it.

he flips the paper over. ‘i have the day off tomorrow!’

could this get any more perfect?

zayne puts the note down back on the nightstand before turning his attention to you. he sat down, the mattress creaking under him as he brushed the hair away from your face. he’s so soft, gentle and domestic, as he leans down to kiss your cheek, catching a whiff of your shampoo.

you started to shift, mumbling incoherently before you stilled again, still asleep. zayne pulled back, letting one of his hands wander. he traced to smooth curve of your neck, drawing mindless shapes as his hands travelled further down. it finally settled on your waist, thumb rubbing back and forth on your silky, pliable skin.

it didn’t stay there for long, though—he couldn’t stop himself from exploring further. his hand goes further south, tracing the intricate details of the lacy panties you wore. eventually zayne’s hand is between your thighs, forefinger swiping across your slit-

but then he realizes that they’re crotchless.

you, his innocent devoted girlfriend, bought crotchless lingerie.

dirty girl!

he couldn’t help but to smirk, his face heating up at the discovery.

he quickly bring his hand to his mouth, spitting on his middle and ring fingers. his hand returned to you cunt, teasing and spreading you open. you may be asleep, but he could feel the way your body reacted to his touch.

“zayne,” he caught his name amidst your slumberous mumbling. it caused his smile to grow.

slowly, carefully, he could feel you getting wetter and wetter. his fingers traveled upwards towards your clit, not quite touching. he circled his finger around it, mindful of not applying direct pressure but still aware of how the muscles of your thighs twitched when he brushed against it.

even in your sleep, you’re so reactive to him.

zayne’s skilled fingers made their way back to you slit, prodding at your entrance before pushing in. of course he caught the way your walls happily welcomed him in, fluttering and throbbing like it’s been ages since they’ve had any attention. his fingers scissored and thrusted inside you, stretching you out to take his painfully hard cock. he fisted himself with his free hand, eyes blissfully closed and head thrown back as his thumb rubbed circles on your clit. the towel he wore was long forgotten on the floor, but he couldn’t care less right now—not when he had you all to himself after god knows how long.

your mindless whimpers were music to his ears, a sound he’d never tire from hearing. he felt your velvet walls fluttering and throbbing around his fingers, and combined with the way your thighs quivered and spasmed, he knew you were close. you arms tightened around his pillow and you buried your face further into it, shoulder rising and falling faster as your breathing picked up.

“mm-mmh,” your hums and whimpers filled the room, along with the squelches of your wetness against his fingers. with a hitched breath and a soft pant, you came undone around his fingers, cunt wildly throbbing around zayne’s digits.

he eased you through your orgasm, slowing down his fingers with a subtle smile on his lips. he withdrew them, leaving your puckering hole trying to clench around nothing as he brought his fingers to his mouth. zayne hummed at the taste of your sweetness, licking his fingers clean of your juices. he knew it was lewd. he just made you come while you’re asleep! but he just couldn’t resist; why would he waste a delicacy like this?

he stopped pumping himself—hard, fat cock resting against his stomach as he let himself go. with prominent veins and an angry tip, he was aching to finally be inside you. zayne grabbed a pillow, settling it so it was under your hips before he moved so he was on top of you, seamlessly slipping inside your heat and bottoming out into a prone bone.

you shifted under him, a looong whine leaving your throat when he pushed himself in. he waited until you settled to move again, slowly pulling himself out before gently pushing back in. he continued his slow, unhurried pace as he noticed you waking up from your slumber.

“zay- hah,” your voice was meek, quiet, riddled with sleep. “zayne,” you almost whined, tired tone taking over as mewls continued to leave you.

“good morning, sleeping beauty.” he whispered into your ear, leaning down to place a kiss on your trapezius. “sleep well?”

“mmhmmm,” you hummed dreamily, hiding the growing smile on your face by hiding your face in the pillow. “oh!”

“i apologize for being late,” zayne continued to sweetly talk to you, keeping his tempo slow and controlled. “there was an emergency surgery—you know how that goes.”

you hummed once more, only half paying attention to what your boyfriend was saying. your mind was more pre occupied with how he was making love to you. “‘s okay,” your words slurred, still quiet as you arms stayed wrapped about his pillow. “big fancy surgeon stuff.”

“mm, exactly.” he nosed where your neck and shoulder met, inhaling the sweet scent of your body wash. he let his eyes close, pace speeding up just a crumb. he let his lips linger on your skin, pressing his words into you. “i love you.”

“i- mmh, love you too.”

he smiled, one hand gliding down to you waist. “i like these,” he pulled at the waistband and let go of it, causing it to hit your skin with a smack! “did you get them while you were away?”

you hummed again, nodding. still too sleepy to form full, coherent sentences.

“words, sweetheart,” he grunted, a particularly hard thrust eliciting a moan from the both of you. “i need words. use them.”

“y-yes,” you replied quietly, eyes closed as your fingers curled against the pillow. “knew you liked the colour, so i- mm, got a pair.”

“they’re crotchless,” he smirked against your skin, eyes opening slightly to watch your expression. “dirty girl.”

zayne could see the way your cheeks grew rosier, matching the lingerie that garnished your body. “aw, are you shy, darling?”’

your whine of his name left him reeling. his pace sped up, the pap! pap! pap! of your skin drowning out your noises of pleasure.

“zayne!” you mewled with a gasp of his name, back arching deliciously against him. “hah- harder!”

“what’s the magic word, my love?”

“nnmh- please,” your face went deeper into the pillow, fingers gripping at the pillowcase helplessly.

he listened, humming contently as you did as he asked. “very good,”

your body rocked back and forth with the power of his thrusts, sweet mewls trailing past your lips. zayne’s head was up in the stratosphere with how well you were taking him, velvety walls gripping onto him like a vice. he sped up his pace, one hand resting on your waist—pulling you down onto him—while the other stayed by your head, supporting himself.

you turned your head just slightly, looking over your shoulder at the doctor. you took in his drip-drip-dripping hair and the way the smell of his body wash was stronger, even if it was masked by the scent of sex. you concluded he must’ve just taken a shower. you were snapped out of your thoughts when the bulbous head of his cock bumped against your g-spot, eliciting a breathy moan from your lips. “hngh, zayne, there!”

“right—“ he grunted, biting his bottom lip in concentration. he thrusted again, hard, hitting the spot you wanted. “here?”

“yes!”

he chuckled at your earnest response, pushing his cock against that spot repeatedly. he looked down, watching the way he kept disappearing into you, mesmerized.

“atta girl, taking me so well.”

“theeere you go, just like that.”

you could feel that familiar coil in your stomach, the one that left your body tingling and buzzing with electricity. your noises became sharper, more needier, and he picked up on that almost immediately.

“wait, wait-“ zayne panted quickly pulling out. you clenched around nothing, whining at the feeling of being empty. “wanna see your face with you come, love.”

he flipped you around effortlessly, pillow still under your hips as he spread your legs. his cock easily found its way back into you, like coming home from a long day. your back arched at the new angle, lips parted and eyes closed as zayne cradled you head in his hands.

“so pretty f’me, darling,” he praised, hips moving again as he found his pace once more. he leaned down, capturing you lips a with his own, devouring your little noises.

your hands came up to touch him, raking through his hair, clawing at his shoulders, just trying to hold onto anything. “z-zayne, mmh, so- so close! keep going!”

one of his hands snaked down your body, past the valley between your breasts and down your stomach, index finger just ghosting past your clit. it was teasing, mischievous, and he knew it. smirking against your lips, he nibbled at them as you let out a needy and annoyed whine.

“hah-harder!”

he didn’t have to be told twice.

zayne pinched your swollen, puffy clit before he drew stars on it, observing with a watchful gaze as your body shook and spasmed. he couldn’t help the smirk that crawled onto his lips—he was the one making you feel this way. he’s the one that’s making you tremble beneath him, right on the brink of your orgasm. it was his name that sweetly fell from your lips like a mantra.

that gave him a bigger ego boost than it probably should’ve.

your cunt fluttered and squeezed around him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “so- so close-!”

“i know, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he cooed, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear. your thighs shuddered, chest heaving with your quick intakes of air.

you came with a cry of your lover’s name, back arching off the mattress as your legs grew numb. your walls pulsated are him, desperately trying to keep him in you. a few more thrusts and zayne came as well, head hanging above yours as he whispered sweet nothings. he stilled, making no movement to take himself out of you—just staying together in the most intimate way possible, coming down from your highs and breathing syncing up.

your eyelids flitted open, your hands coming up to cup zayne’s face. you pulled, bringing his head down to yours as you placed a sweet kiss onto his lips. “thank you,”

“mm,” he hummed, smiling against you as he placed another kiss onto you. “of course.”

he reluctantly pulled out, eyes flickering down to your poor, picking hole, oozing with the combined aftermath of your orgasms. zayne moved off the bed, quickly making his way to the bathroom to grab a washcloth and running it under some warm water before he returned to you.

your eyes were closed, blissfully fucked out, legs still spread for him. a sigh escaped you as he ran the towel on your thighs before making his way between them, careful and delicate, like the gentleman he is.

after discarding the towel, he came back to you. the mattress dipped under his weight as he pulled you onto his chest, kissing the top of your head as his hands raked through your hair. you were already close to falling asleep, he could tell, and a small smile graced his lips. “i love you.”

“mmh, love you too.” you mumbled, pushing yourself further onto his body.

his eyes flickered to the bedside table again, where your pink fuzzy still rested. maybe he’ll use those next time, he thinks before joining you and falling asleep.

tags: @envy-of-greed @sethell @doncbaguette @hirostrvw @naammiii

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated:)

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micropoe10 · 3 months ago

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Tiny Scales ~ Rafayel x Reader

He’s never been more in love with, or more grateful to you, who is his soulmate. You, who has brought the future of Lemuria into the world.

Content: softness, pregnancy, childbirth in the ocean, non-canon mermaid depictions and biology

WC: 1.6k

Rafayel knows the due date is near. Knows that soon the oceans will be bustling and the waves will spread in welcome to the new heir of the seas.

He can see it. Sense it. He can practically taste it. In the same way he can sense turbulence amongst the choppy waters of the deep sea and taste the salt in the air.

And of course, it is also made obvious in your actions. You don’t notice all the changes happening within you and your subconscious, but he does, and he’s never felt more tender, more protective.

He sees how you want to be alone more often, just like a Lemurian female, often finding you nestled in the corner of your plush, shared bed, fast asleep and cradling your belly for long hours of the day.

Or sitting just at the edge of the private beach outside your home, right where the water meets the sand, knees tucked to your chest as you let the waves kiss your feet and wet your hem, something within you viscerally needing the ocean close in the same way he does.

He sees your enamoured exasperation when you rub your round belly that’s grown heavy and uncomfortable to carry. Notices how in some moments you crave him in ways you can’t help or explain, wrapping your arms tightly around him from behind, nuzzling your face into his back, wanting to crawl beneath his skin so much you’ll huff a sound of helpless frustration, quickly unbuttoning his shirt so you can press your face to his bare skin. His chest, his shoulder blades, his neck.

Throughout your entire pregnancy, you and Rafayel rarely leave the house. Before the small life had begun to grow inside you, you had thought you and Rafayel couldn’t possibly be any closer. You knew everything about each other, did everything together, your lives entwined so completely you could understand each other without words, could feel each other even when apart.

But during your pregnancy, when the two of you literally spent every minute of each day with each other within the safe bubble of your home, your relationship had once again transformed, morphing into something so deep, so infinite and everlasting you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began, where or even if there was any separation of your lives anymore. You felt the air he breathed passing through your lungs, could feel the surrounding world through him and the little one nurtured within you.

As for Rafayel, you had never seen him more relaxed. He had forgone cutting his hair, instead letting it grow, the soft purple ends sweeping down his delicate, pale neck and grazing his shoulders. More often than not he forewent shoes and shirts, and almost always denied invitations or interviews from the world outside your bubble.

He devoted all his time to you and the child safely tucked in your womb, painting countless images of your pregnancy. You sleeping on the couch, one hand on your belly, your hair a mess around you. You standing in the soft morning light of the kitchen. You on the beach, wearing a thin nightgown and facing the silvery moon which casted mesmerising reflections along the inky water. The two of you lazed in bed during those months, rising when your bodies willed, lulling back into a deep slumber in the same way the tides ebbed and flowed.

Ten months. A little longer than a regular human pregnancy. Different from a regular Lemurian pregnancy, too. You weren’t laying eggs. The baby was alive within you, little movements tickling Rafayel’s nose when he spoke to your belly in the dim light of the midnight moon, the soothing sound of waves crashing outside.

“I can’t wait to meet you, my little love,” he would speak quietly in his ancient native language, pink lips softly forming beautiful words. He pressed his lips to your bare stomach and you stroked through his velvety hair in response, your thumb rubbing lightly just below his ear where small pearlescent half-circles could be seen. As your hormones changed and strengthened throughout the pregnancy, his instincts had responded keenly, and oftentimes his scales would erupt on subtle parts of his body before he could help it. You loved kissing those smooth patches, licking them, nuzzling them. You wondered if your child would have them, too. If they would take after their father’s kind or yours. Not that it mattered, the love you both felt for the child could surely sink through your skin and reach them, wrapping them safely.

And when Rafayel wakes after a little more than ten months to find the space beside him in bed empty and cold, he somehow knows.

He doesn’t bother checking for you in the house, walking straight to the beach outside where the sky is a light purple still glittered with stars. He stops at the top of the sand, the breeze whispering through his hair as he stares at the back of the figure swaying waist-high in the currents. Your body, your instincts, perhaps heightened by the Lemurian DNA inside you, have told you that this is the place and this is the time.

Rafayel is shirtless, the light material of his loose white pants sticking to his ankles as he walks into the water, to his calves, his thighs, his hips, right behind you. The waves welcome him in their embrace, acknowledging their god, and soon, the heir to them.

His arms wrap around you from behind and his eyes glow a bright blue-purple, everything within him vibrating as his mate lets out a small moan and leans back against him.

“Beloved, are you in pain?” he speaks right by your ear. His thumb strokes your swollen belly over your thin white dress. The gentle ocean swells pass by the two of you.

You make a small sound that says you are and hold the large hand resting on your stomach tighter, trying to concentrate on the first sliver of the sun’s light casting a tiny glow of yellow on the horizon ahead.

Your neck turns to nuzzle the size of your face against his bare chest, moaning lightly. He ducks his head down. You’re panting a little. “Raf… Rafayel… If this baby takes after you, I will be so happy.”

He kisses your temple, smells your hair and the ocean. “My love, you and this baby are my entire world.” There is nothing more important. Nothing more precious.

And as the first rays of sunlight warm the sand and cause the sea to glimmer like a thousand jewels, a little princess is born. Rafayel holds you throughout, letting you squeeze his hand as tightly as you need, cupping water in his palm to cool your sweating hairline. He rubs your dry lips and silently commands the waves to embrace you carefully, comfortably.

One last whimper and push from you and he feels your taut body sag back against his chest. Throughout the process, silvery-blue scales have emerged on his skin, below his eyes, at the column of his throat, along his forearms and ribs. Whenever he sees you in pain, and also, from his own excitement. And now, he sees a flicker of the same colour quickly splash the surface of the water before sinking a little beneath.

Still holding you securely with one strong arm, the other darts beneath the water, scooping something small and soft and smooth up in the other arm.

You’re both breathless as you stare at the amazing, beautiful creature. So small, with scales a shade lighter than Rafayel’s. So small that its head can fit on Rafayel’s palm. It looks half asleep and droopy, with little saliva bubbles gurgling from its mouth.

And the tiniest, cutest little mermaid tail you have ever seen, the end wrapped lightly around Rafayel’s forearms, the fluke of the tail wriggling slightly.

As if by pure instinct, Rafayel’s own tail stretches out, scales fluttering up his sides, gills emerging by his ears. He brings the baby to your chest for you to hold and you cradle her warmly as Rafayel carries you both deeper so his tail can comfortably stretch out without touching the sand below. He keeps you both afloat like that for a long while, the both of you just staring in awe at your daughter. Every perfect inch of her. You feel no pain, only completely and wholly connected to the sky and the sea and your little family.

The tiny thing blinks dazedly, eyes opening a little and you inhale sharply. A happy sob chokes from your throat.

“Darling,” you coo, reaching to stroke one soft cheek with the back of a finger, infinite gentleness and adoration swelling within you. Her eyes are purple like your beloved’s. A brilliant mixture of the rising sun pink and blues you only find in the depths of the ocean where ancient Lemurian statues still stand.

“Will she be able to change when she’s so little?” you breathe the question to Rafayel, dipping to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Mmm,” he cradles you and nuzzles the back of your neck. “If she spends long enough outside the water it will happen automatically. She will learn to control it as she grows.”

You imagine Rafayel as a child, learning the same thing, a stark contrast to the strong Lemurian holding you now, the large tail swaying in the water beneath you.

Rafayel’s chest feels so open and so full. He’s never been more in love with, or more grateful to you, who is his soulmate. You, who has brought the future of Lemuria into the world.

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