jason todd is no coward. especially not in bed. he'd literally do anything and everything you ask, especially during sex.
he doesn't let anything get in the way of his personal time with you, so when you begrudgingly tell him you're on your period when he's already hovering over you, his boner pressing insistently against your thigh, he can't help the confused look that takes over his face.
"wha-" he also can't help but smirk at the sheer ridiculousness of you thinking a little blood is going to stop him from making you feel good. "baby..." he shakes his head, running his big fingers through your hair, "you think some blood's g'na scare me off?" he asks, "think i don't see that shit everyday, hm?" he speaks, pressing kisses to your the sensitive skin of your neck.
"s'gross, jay!" you whine, but you don't dare to stop him from nipping at your skin.
"angel, i really, really don't care" he says genuinely, somewhat fed up, and also somewhat offended that you think he could ever find you gross. "jus lemme make you feel good, honey," he already starts to work your shorts off, not caring to listen to anymore of your half-assed protests.
who are you to say no? especially when he's speaking oh so gently to you, and treating you with the most care when you're in such a fragile state.
before you know it, he's buried deep inside you and has you squirming underneath him, mewling in pleasure. "fuck!-" you squeak, every touch and every movement intensified to a degree that's overwhelming. he's moving in and out of you, his arm in between the two of you as he works at your clit restlessly.
"that feel good, baby?" he'll say, "fuuuck– you like that?" he purrs. he has no idea why you think this is gross, the blood only makes you warmer and wetter, in fact he prefers it.
his dick twitches violently inside of you whenever he looks down to see where the both of you are connected, his breath hitches at the sight of his shaft covered in blood and slick.
"s'not so gross now, huh?" he teases, a smirk that says he knows how good you feel right now, playing at his face. he's making you eat your words. "n-no jay!" you shake your head, your jaw slack as your orgasm approaches quickly. "yeah, that's right pretty" he coos, leaning down further to kiss you deeply, swallowing your moans and whimpers.
he feels himself grow closer as well, his balls tightening. it's only been about 10 minutes. he usually lasts much longer, but you're just so much wetter, yknow, given the circumstance.
you cum around his cock with a cry, and he reaches that peak right with you. after he spills deep inside of you with a low grunt, he just has to pull out to see his cum dripping out of you, the blood mixing with his release a plus. he swears he could cum again just from that sight.
he looks up at you, your eyes closed and your chest heaving as you lay there in a fucked-out state. but you can't deny your cramps have lifted. jason speaks,
how it feels entering an 'x reader' tag and seeing other maladaptive bitches sharing the same exact slimy, gooped out, gooey thoughts about ur fav fictional character
ꮼ premature ejaculation with inexperienced!jason todd (18+)
He's hovered over you, his deep green eyes fluttering closed as the head of his cock tentatively brushes along your slick folds. The slow drag is torturous, this drawn-out tension that's got you on edge, but he freezes up, too wrapped in his own doubts. Panic twists in his gut. This already feels too fucking good, way too intense for someone like him who's barely dipped a toe into this.
"Come on... ‘s okay baby. You can put it in," you gently urge, your voice a raw whisper of desperation, but his thoughts are a whirlwind, second-guessing every move. He jerks his head side to side, refusing.
“Can’t yet…” his face buries into the curve of your neck, a soft whimper escaping as he nudges the tip against your opening. It teases right at the edge, slipping in just a fraction and your walls instantly squeeze and gush around it, but he pulls back every time.
A frustrated whimper escapes you. "Jay, why are you holding back so hard?" Your fingers slide up the smooth expanse of his bare back, nails slightly scratching the scarred skin. He quakes at the touch, leaning into it like a lifeline.
"I can't... fuck, ohmygod..." he stammers as your hands soothe him, making his throbbing cock twitch against you. Hot tears start splashing onto your skin, right at the collarbone. "Don't wanna screw this up and hurt you. I'm not... I don't even know if I can do it right."
"What'd really hurt is you stopping yourself from feeling good ‘cause you’re scared," you soothe, tugging him down until his weight settles against you, arms looping around his neck in a firm hold. "You know I love you, Jay."
Your soft encouragement shatters his fragile control, sending him tumbling over the brink. His cock twitches wildly, barely notched at your opening, as thick, erratic spurts of cum erupt from him—coating your cunt in sticky warmth, some dribbling inside just a fraction. He gasps, body jerking in clumsy spasms, face burning with shame as the pathetic reality hits: he's spilled everywhere without even getting started, like some fumbling kid who couldn't hold it together. Humiliation floods him, cheeks flaming red, a choked sob bubbling up because he feels so small, so utterly inadequate in this vulnerable strip-down of himself.
"Oh shit—sorry, fuck—"
You silence him with a gentle press of lips to his, palms framing his flushed face, thumbs sweeping away the tear tracks streaking his cheeks. "No, don’t be sorry. ‘Can always try again, hm?”
Hello can I request: Prasing mark Grayson and having him hump his girlfriend tight to give him more confidence in himself and his intimacy ability?
“Who’s a good boy?”
Mark moaned softly against his girlfriend’s chest. His face somewhere between the curve of her neck and start of her breasts. Breathing in her scent as he coiled tight around her. His hips rutting softly against her thigh while her fingers combed through his hair. Basking in the praise.
Lately it felt like he couldn’t do anything right. Everything that had happened. Everything that had gone on. It felt like everyone was looking at him to blame or give answers, even if it wasn’t true. Mark felt like a failure. He felt worthless. And that had taken a toll on him not just mentally but also….‘mentally’. They hadn’t had sex in months because every time they tried Mark seemed to fail at that too. So [Y/N] recommended some other things they could do, hopefully to respark some intimacy.
“That’s it…. you’re doing so good.” Mark let out another breathy moan and placed a sort of wide mouth kiss against [Y/N]’s skin. “Does that feel good?” He nodded furiously. Grinding his hips harder this time into her thigh. “I bet. Your dick feels so hard against me Mark. So hard and strong, just like you.” He whimpered and moved to cup one of her breasts. Not really fondle it. Just hold it. As if using it as leverage to grind deeper. “You’re doing so good Mark. Such a good boy. I bet it would feel really good if you came right now. Can you do that? Can you be a good boy and cum for me?”
Mark inhaled in a stuttered sort of pattern as his hips pistoned just a little faster then stopped. A wet spot forming at the front of his boxers. His face heating up at the initial embarrassment of cumming in his pants, before [Y/N] leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. “That’s my good boy.”
She then reached under his chin to tilt Mark’s face up and look at her. Those big doe eyes looking at her with adoration & love before she asked, “who’s a good boy?”
“I’m a good boy.”
“That’s right.” Mark felt his chest swell at the praise. At being right. At doing right. He then leaned up to kiss [Y/N] on the mouth.
“Let me take care of you.” He practically begged when he pulled away. But [Y/N] just smiled and brushed his hair again.
“Not tonight. This is about you.” She gave him another sweet kiss and then promised, “don’t worry. Good boys get good rewards soon.”
"Where is my niece?" Iroh asks Zuko as he enters his study. He nods slightly at the attendants who bow in greeting. "There’s a new tea shop that opened in the city and I was hoping she'd accompany me."
"She may be feeding the turtle ducks," Zuko replies, reading through some documents. "And she won't be able to go with you today, she promised her afternoon and evening to me."
Iroh raises a brow, noting how Zuko's voice turned slightly childish. It reminds him of back when Zuko was young and a little possessive over the turtle ducks. He'd not allow anyone else near them, only his mother and very rarely, himself.
It's funny to see it now on an adult Zuko, who's a little—very—possessive over his wife and her time.
Iroh contemplates teasing his nephew about it.
"Oh?" He says. "But it'll only be for an hour or so and I know she's been excited to visit this place."
Zuko huffs. "I know. She's been talking about it since you told her." He sighs, lowering the paper in his hands so he can give his uncle his full attention. "You know I love that you and her are close. But let's be realistic, uncle. Your outings last longer than an hour and I probably won't see her until it's time for bed."
"I wouldn't keep her out that long."
Zuko stares at him.
"I promise!" Iroh laughs, amused by his nephew's disgruntled expression. "And you know there's a solution for this."
"And what's that?" Zuko asks, eyeing him warily.
"You can come with us."
"You know I can't," Zuko says, gesturing to all the work before him. "I have a meeting in the early afternoon followed by my counsel and—"
The doors to his study open, revealing a smiling you. Iroh smiles back, casting a glance at Zuko who immediately melts at the sight of you. Oh, he remembers what that was like—being that deeply in love.
"Hey," you greet happily, moving towards Iroh first who accepts the hug you give him. Then you're onto Zuko who stands and reaches for you, his arms locking around your waist as you lean into him, pressing a soft kiss against his scar. "How are my two favourite people doing?"
"Well," Zuko starts. "We were just—"
"—about to head out to the new tea shop that just opened," Iroh interrupts smoothly, ignoring the bewildered look on his nephew's face. "We were coming to look for you right now, actually."
"Oh really?" You ask, brightening up beautifully and turning your sunshine smile to Zuko. "You're coming with us? That's so exciting! We can spend the afternoon together."
"I—" Zuko looks towards Iroh, helpless, as his uncle grins. "I...yes, I'm coming with you."
"Wonderful!" You kiss his scar again and Zuko's melting again. "Let me just go and freshen up a little then we can go."
"We'll be here," Iroh replies, waving as you practically skip out of the room. Then he turns to Zuko. "Well, that was easy, wasn't it?"
"You've got to stop doing that," Zuko bemoans but there's an obvious upward curve to his lips.
SYNOPSIS — (req) mark comes back after his mission but something is off about him…
CONTENT — 18+ minors dni | sex pollen, shower sex, established relationship, technically dub con because of sex pollen but you want each other either way, pet names (baby, sweetheart), hand job, oral (f! receiving), light choking, cum eating? nipple play, biting, marking, light dirty talk? mating press, doggy position, cowgirl position, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie. let me know if i’ve missed anything!
WC — 5.4k
NOTE — i mean… my username is lovee-potions
MASTERLIST | REQUEST
The room was quiet in that restless, too-late kind of way, where every little sound seemed louder than it should have been. The street outside had long since gone still, the light from the window spilling thin stripes across the blankets, but you still couldn’t sleep.
Your sheets were twisted around your legs, warm but uncomfortable, as you stared at the ceiling—trying to force your mind to focus on anything but Mark. Count the cracks in the paint. Listen to the hum of the heater. Focus on the soft rustle of the sheets when you shifted your legs. None of it helped. Every time your eyes closed, your thoughts went right back to him.
You turned onto your side, then your other side, then back again. Rolling onto your stomach, you buried your face in the pillow with a frustrated sigh. The clock on your bedside table glowed with an unforgiving brightness: 2:43AM. You reached for your phone for the third time in ten minutes, half-hoping for a message and half-afraid of what it might say. Nothing. Still nothing.
You hugged the phone to your chest for a second before setting it back on the nightstand, then sat up and rubbed at your face. Your eyes felt heavy, but your body was all nerves, like it had forgotten how to relax. You pulled your knees up under the blankets and stared at the dark window.
Mark would probably hate seeing you like this. He always got this soft, guilty look when he realised you’d been worrying about him. He never liked making you wait. He never liked the fear in your voice when you asked if he was okay.
A sudden sound outside the window made you freeze. Your whole body went tense, heart jumping into your throat, and you were halfway out of bed before you realised it was only the wind brushing the tree branches against the glass. You let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding and sank back onto the mattress, embarrassed even though no one was there.
After a moment, you reached over and switched on the small lamp beside the bed. The warm light filled the room just enough to make the shadows less sharp. You looked around at the little pieces of Mark that had somehow ended up in your room over time: the hoodie he’d left behind, folded over the chair; the spare comic he’d shoved into your bookshelf because he swore you ‘had to read it’; the stupid souvenir he’d bought on a date and forgotten to take back.
You exhaled slowly, standing once again and heading to the bathroom. The light was harsh at first, making you squint as you flicked it on. You reached for the shower, turning the water on and letting it run as steam slowly began to fill the room.
You caught your reflection in the mirror as you began to undress—the bags under your eyes making you grimace. You stepped under the warm water and let it hit your shoulders, your back, your face—letting the heat sink into the tight places in your body.
For a little while, you focused only on the feeling of it, on the rhythm of the water, on the simple act of breathing until your lungs stopped catching. You pressed your palms against the tile and closed your eyes, trying to wash away the fear that kept circling back.
You tried not to think. Tried not to imagine where he was, what he was doing, whether he was hurt. You were still deep in thought, still caught up in the same loop of dread, running through every possibility your mind could invent. You didn’t hear the bathroom door open, nor the soft rustling of clothes hitting the floor.
You didn’t register the shower door opening and closing until strong arms slipped around your waist that your whole body jolted in surprise, and before you could even turn your head, Mark was there, pressing himself close against your back.
His hold tightened just slightly, like he was making sure you were real. Like he needed to feel you there as much as you needed to feel him. One of his hands rested over your stomach, his thumb moving in a small, absent circle, and when he finally lifted his head, you could hear the tiredness in his voice.
“Missed you,” he murmured, placing a soft kiss against your pulse point.
“Mark?” you gasped, your hands immediately coming up as you turned in his arms.
Your eyes moved over him quickly, taking in everything at once. His skin was flushed, a deep heat radiating off him that you could feel even without touching. There was a faint sheen of sweat along his forehead, trailing down the side of his neck, catching along his collarbone. His chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath just a little too fast, a little too sharp.
“Mark…” you said again, softer now, your hands shifting from his shoulders to cup his face, then sliding down to his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall beneath your palm. “Hey—slow down. Breathe.”
He let out a shaky breath at that, almost like he hadn’t realised how hard he was breathing until you said it. His forehead dropped forward, resting briefly against yours, his eyes closing as he tried to steady himself.
“I—” he started, voice catching slightly before he swallowed it down.
Your brows pulled together, worry tightening in your chest again. “What’s going on?” you asked, searching his face. “Are you injured?”
“No, I—fuck—” Mark tried again, the word slipping out under his breath as his grip on your waist tightened. He swallowed hard, jaw clenching slightly. “It hurts.”
Your stomach dropped. “What hurts? I thought you said you weren’t injured—”
“I’m not injured,” he cut in quickly, his voice rougher now—strained in a way you weren’t used to hearing from him. Like he was trying to explain something he didn’t have the words for. Like even he didn’t fully understand it.
You blinked at him, frustration flickering through the concern. “What? Mark? I dont… You’re really confusing me right now,” you sighed, your hands still resting against him, grounding but unsure.
Mark shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck and dropping his gaze. He let out a weak exhale before glancing back up at you and gesturing downwards. “It hurts.”
Your eyes followed his motion, and cursed yourself for not noticing sooner. He was hard. Painfully so. Mark kept his gaze on yours as you gave him an up down and had the audacity to look sheepish. He ran a weak hand through his wet hair before letting it fall back down to his side where it tapped nervously against his leg.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life,” he said exasperatedly.
“Okay, ouch,” you teased, tracing your fingers down his chest, past his stomach and down to the tuft of hair trailing to his base until you wrapped a hand around his cock, savouring how he throbbed under your palm. “What have I been doing wrong?”
Mark groaned at that, seemingly torn between frustration and amusement. He threw his head back against the tiles, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, “No—not like—you know what I mean—its that stupid alien thing—”
“What ‘stupid alien thing’?” you wondered, moving your hand down and teasingly trailing your fingernails over the skin of his balls.
The sensation made him cry out, his cock jerking hard against his stomach. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief second as he tried to keep his composure—his chest rising and falling a little faster with each second that passed.
“There was an object… some kind of relic, I think,” he tried to explain, gulping back a groan. “It gave me this… I dunno, headache, and I thought everything was fine but now—”
“You’re aroused?” you questioned, wrapping your hand back around his base.
“Yeah,” he rasped out after a second. “F-fuck—I—”
“So you inhaled some aphrodisiac?” you laughed softly, slowly moving your hand.
He dragged both hands down his face with a groan that sounded like it had been ripped from his soul. Mark's thighs trembled, his hips thrusting up helplessly into your touch. He was trying, and failing, to keep himself under control, his hands clenching into trembling fists at his sides.
You gave your hand one particular tug and he whined loudly. His tip was flushed an angry-red, glistening and soaked with his precum. The vein along the underside of his length pulsed dangerously each time your thumb slit along the slit in his tip.
“You—you don’t have to do this,” he said, teeth clamped down hard on his lip. “I can wait—oh fuck—I can wait it out…”
“No you can’t, Mark,” you swallowed, your thighs pressing together on their own accord. “You’re in pain. I want to help. I want to make you feel better.”
With one hand firm at his base, your other hand picked up the speed around the head of him. His hips jolted as he fucked himself into your fist. He moaned your name, causing your heart to stutter in your chest at the low, needy sound.
“I’m sorry. I—I’m so sorry… this… please,” Mark groaned out your name. “I’ll—just like that.”
He panted, drawing in gasps of air, and babbled mindlessly. His hips continued to jerk into your hand, unable to help himself, lost to the pleasure. One of his hands came up to the junction of your jaw, pulling your lips onto his.
He took your breath away with how deeply he kissed you. it was incessant, all tongue and teeth. But you let him have his way with you—whatever he needed to feel better—while he broke free to mouth at your pulse.
His tongue flattened against your skin and dragged all the way up your neck, to take your earlobe in his mouth and suck. You moaned at the action, your hand tightening around him. That was all Mark needed before he came with a stuttered cry.
His cock pulsed in your grip, your name tearing from his throat. It felt endless, never seeing him come so much. Mark saw stars, his hips twitching with the force of his orgasm. It was almost painful in its intensity, the pleasure so sharp it made his legs shake.
Thick ropes of cum hit your stomach and trickled down your wrist before being washed away by the spray of water. But still, it wasn't enough. He needed you impossibly closer, he needed to consume every inch of space between you, and despite how much Mark just came, he was still hard. Desperately so.
The relief he expected, the clarity that should have come, was nowhere to be found. If anything, Mark found himself even more aroused than before. Another wave of confused arousal crashed through him, making him groan weakly. He dropped his head onto your shoulder, moving his hips into your hand once again as he hopelessly tried to find some form of relief.
You reached a hand to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him back to look at you. You barely got a look at how hazy Mark’s eyes were before he lunged forward and captured your mouth in another kiss.
Mark tried to be gentle but the second your lips parted for him, he was taken over by a need so consuming that he let the last thread of control fray to nothing. One hand fisted your hair, gripping it tight to angle your head exactly where he needed it, while the other gripped your waist.
He pulled you flush to his body, his chest pressed against yours. Gasping at his touch, Mark immediately took advantage, sweeping his tongue past yours. The hand that was on your waist slid down to the curve of your ass, squeezing gently before he lifted you up and pressed you back against the cool surface of the tiles.
Your legs wrapped naturally around his waist and you felt his cock brush against your folds. Water sluiced between you as he pressed closer, the tile cool against your bare back compared to the heat of him.
Mark sucked your bottom lip between his teeth and released it slowly before pulling back. You made a small wounded sound that went straight to his cock and you felt it twitch against your stomach.
Glancing down at his lips, you took in how they were spit-covered, plump and parted as he gulped back his pleasure. Just the sight of him so wrecked made your head spin and thighs clench. His chest heaved against yours, breath coming hard and fast as he pressed his forehead against yours.
“Baby, I can’t,” he panted raggedly, his voice barely recognisable. “You don’t understand… I’m not… I don’t know if I can be gentle.”
“That’s okay, Mark,” you whispered against his lips, sliding a hand up his shoulder to curl around the base of his neck. “Take what you need. Take me.”
“I—are you sure?” he breathed, glancing between your eyes as he tried to find any sort of hesitation. “I don't know if I can stop once I start…”
“Then don’t stop,” you purred, tightening your hand around the base of his neck.
He was all over you in seconds, his teeth scraping against your neck, hot and demanding against your skin—kissing, nipping, licking until he had a trail of marks blooming across it. He didn’t bother hiding how badly he wanted this—how badly he needed to be touching you.
His mouth crashed back onto yours with bruising intensity and your lips parted for him instantly, allowing him to take full control of the kiss. The hand that was in your hair moved down and wrapped around his cock, pumping himself a few times before lining up against your entrance.
You rolled your hips against him, the thick head of his cock dragging through your folds and gathering your slick. The action made your breath stutter, your thighs tightening helplessly around him, trying to draw him even closer, to get more of that intoxicating pleasure.
With one shaky thrust of his hips, Mark buried himself deep inside you, and the sensation punched a desperate sound from the both of you. A long, drawn-out moan left your lips as he stretched you open and filled you completely.
“Oh God, sweetheart,” he murmured, dipping his head and latching his lips onto your neck and sucking hard.
Mark held himself deep inside you for a brief moment that felt like an eternity. He drew back his hips until the tip of his cock slid right to the very edges of your entrance, and then drove it back in, burying himself to the hilt.
You reached a hand up, threading your fingers through the wet strands and tugging at them. He lifted his head from your shoulder and glanced down at where your bodies met, watching his cock slide in and out of you at a frantic pace.
“Feels so good,” he breathed, brushing a calloused thumb over your bottom lip.
As your lips part to let out a moan, Mark slid his thumb into your mouth—pressing the pad of his thumb down against your tongue to make you swallow around it instead. Mark cursed under his breath, his hips stuttering as you sucked on his thumb—his gaze darkened as he watched the way your lips slid over it.
His thumb pulled free from your mouth with a soft, wet pop—a string of saliva connecting him to your bottom lip. His fingers gripped your chin, tilting your head back. He closed the last bit of space between you, lips hovering millimeters above your own, his breath mingling with yours.
Mark’s grip on your chin shifted, his fingers curling to cradle your jaw as his hips slowly began to lose their rhythm as he got closer to his impending orgasm. His thumb moved to the underside of your jaw, tracing the line of your pulse with feather-light pressure.
His thumb moved again, shifting to the delicate column of your throat. He gently squeezed, enough to feel your pulse stutter beneath his touch as he leaned closer. His gaze drifted down to your neck, studying the way you shivered when he exerted that bit of pressure.
“Fuck, I’m close,” he panted, his thumb rubbing small, teasing circles on your fluttering pulse.
Mark’s body tensed at the feeling of your nails raking down his back, a sharp groan tearing from his throat. His hips stuttered again, losing their rhythm as pleasure spiked through him. He pressed you harder against the wall with one hand braced beside your head while the other gripped your thigh to hike it higher around his waist.
Water cascaded over both of you as he leaned in close enough that all you could see was him—dark lashes dripping wet and eyes burning into yours. Mark’s grip on your thigh tightened, his pace turning rougher—needy.
His free hand slid between you, his fingers finding your clit with cruel precision as he drove into you deeper. His fingers pressed harder, his hips pistoning with brutal efficiency. His forehead dropped against your shoulder as the tension in him coiled tighter.
“I’m gonna—I’m—oh shit—” he groaned, coming undone above you.
Your name ripped from his throat like a prayer as he came inside you. He buried himself as deep as he could go as his cock throbbed inside you, pulsing violently as he emptied himself inside your cunt.
There was too much—pulse after pulse filling you beyond capacity. You clenched around him, your body milking every last drop until his cum started to leak around the base of him, dripping down your thighs.
You were coming a few seconds after before your brain could even register it was happening. His arms locked around you in a vice grip, keeping you flush against him as he rode out both your highs with slow, grinding rolls of his hips.
“Fuck—fuck,” he muttered into the curve of your neck.
“Mark,” your voice cracked, still feeling how hard he was.
Blindly reaching to his left, Mark turned off the water before stumbling out of the shower with you still in his arms. He moved with urgency, carrying you a few steps to your bed and laying you down.
He followed you down, planting his forearm beside your head and covering your body with his. You were briefly wary of making everything wet, but then Mark kissed you and every thought evaporated from your mind.
His mouth left a trail of kisses down the column of your neck, pausing to nip lightly at the mark he’d made earlier. He continued his path down your body, his mouth leaving a scalding trail of wet kisses on your skin until he sucked your nipple between his lips.
Mark’s tongue circled the sensitive peak before his teeth grazed against it teasingly. His hand came up to the other, his thumb flicking over the nipple once, twice—watching how it stiffened under his touch before pinching it hard enough to make you gasp.
“Fuck, Mark,” you moaned, arching your back into his touch.
Threading your fingers into his hair, you tugged at the strands as he sucked your nipple into his mouth. His hand palmed and kneaded the other, clinging onto every whining plea that fell from your lips.
Mark groaned against your skin, his hips grinding down against the mattress. He switched to the other side, alternating between your breasts, his tongue laving over the other sensitive mound. He licked, sucked and nipped until both your nipples were peaked and glistened with his spit.
His mouth trailed down your stomach, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake until his hand smoothed up the inside of your thighs before pushing them apart. He manoeuvred you into the perfect position before propping himself on his elbows between your legs.
Only when his hand trailed down to your thigh, his knuckles lightly brushing over your skin, did you finally stop him.
“Mark,” you sighed, holding him back with the hand still tangled in his hair. “It’s not about me, Mark… this is about you.”
“No, I need this,” Mark shook his head, pulling your thighs over his shoulders. “I need to make you feel good too.”
Before you could protest any further, he bruised his face between your legs and devoured you like a man starved. Mark flattened his tongue, licking a long stripe up your slick folds from your aching hole to your clit.
“Oh, fuck,” you panted, tightening your thighs around his head and practically suffocating him.
Mark moaned against your core, reveling in the taste of you and him on his tongue, before his lips latched onto your clit. Your fingers twisted tightly in his hair as your hips bucked up helplessly in response to the maddening sensation.
He tilted his head down, shifting one of his hands to spread you wider with his thumb, opening you up as he licked and prodded at your entrance as the bridge of his nose brushed against your clit. Mark didn’t know if he could be able to keep it slow for long, not with you—not when he took such sick pride in taking you apart like this.
“So fucking delicious,” Mark murmured, pulling back for a second to spit onto your throbbing cunt. As if you needed any more lubrication.
He dove back in, his tongue spearing inside—the obscene wet sound mixing with your gasping moan. Your toes curled as he slid his tongue in and out over and over, curling and massaging your insides.
The sight of Mark was nearly enough to send you over the edge. All flushed skin and flexing muscle, he seeked his own friction by grinding down against the mattress, aching for a bit of relief from the pressure. Mark savoured the taste of you, closing his eyes and humming into your cunt.
Your head lolled even further back into the pillows as the vibrations shot through your body, your eyes fixed at the ceiling and almost teary from how good you felt. Then, without warning, Mark’s two fingers sunk into you as his mouth re-attached to your clit.
“Mark—fuck—Mark,” you moaned incoherently.
As his fingers curled and uncurled against your g-spot, you tilted your hips up to meet the thrusts of his hand. You were shaking now, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as the coil in your stomach wound up tighter and tighter.
Mark’s tongue and fingers continued to work in tandem, coaxing you closer and closer to your orgasm.
“Need you to come,” Mark rasped against you, feeling you clench around his fingers.
The raw pleading tone of his voice is what does it. Your back arched off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Mark watched you with rapt attention, keeping his mouth sealed around you—devouring every aftershock.
Mark smiled against your cunt, lapping up your release—even as it dripped down his wrist and chin. He slowed his fingers, gentling their movements, and delivering a final lick before pulling away to press open-mouthed kisses against your inner thighs.
He worked his way back up your body until he reached your face, lips glistening and hair dishevelled from your grip. Mark planted a hand beside your head, fisting the pillow as he leaned down to connect your lips.
You moaned into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. He kissed you with a desperate kind of fervour, moving a hand to your jaw and tilting your head back so he could claim as much of your mouth as possible.
Your nails raked down his back, leaving a light trail of red in their wake. Mark hissed at the feeling, bucking his hips forward and dragging the swollen head of his cock through your folds, brushing against your clit.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he whimpered, his hands trembling. “Please… I need more… I need you.”
“Fuck, Mark, I—” you gasped, still trying to catch your breath from the previous orgasm. “Yeah, okay… take me.”
You reached a hand between your bodies, guiding his cock and aligning him with your entrance. Not needing to be told twice, Mark slid his hands under your thighs, hitching your legs up until your calves were over his shoulders.
He pressed his chest down against yours, his body caging you in completely. Your hands clutched desperately at his biceps that encased you as he pushed in at an antagonising pace.
You felt every inch, every bump, every ridge, every vein, every perfect, blissful drag of his cock as he split you open once again. Your legs were practically folded to your shoulders, ankles hooked around the back of his neck.
You were so full you could barely breathe, stretched impossibly wide around him—the sensation so unbelievably overwhelming you could come from that alone. He wasn’t giving you any time to adjust, his body operating on pure unfiltered need.
“So good,” he murmured, barely holding his head aloft. “Feels so good. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just need—fuck—need you so bad. Can't stop…."
His cock was buried so far inside you it felt like he was in your stomach. Each one of his thrusts were deeper than the last—his chest smothering your gasps and moans as you took him over and over.
Mark’s arms began to tremble from the tension of keeping you folded under him. He sucked in a sharp breath like he couldn’t stand how good you felt, his hips rolling deeper while locking your eyes together.
At that point, it felt like Mark was practically a part of you. Each time he rocked forward, you chased the friction instinctively. One of Mark’s hands snaked between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.
A sharp cry slipped past your lips, your body jolting with overstimulation from your previous orgasms. Every muscle in your body twitched, wanting to flee from the sensation but, with being pinned beneath him, there was nowhere to go.
You were utterly trapped, unable to do anything but take it. You couldn’t hold back anymore—the combination of his thumb against your clit, his cock pounding into you was all too much.
“Oh god, oh God—” you moaned, grasping his wrist. “I’m close…”
“Please, baby,” he panted, his thrusts becoming needier.
You came with a keening cry as your third orgasm washed over you—your thighs shaking where they were pressed to your chest. Mark continued his thrusts, coaxing you through your orgasm but instead of slowing down, he became more frantic.
Then, without warning, he pulled out of you completely, ignoring your confused whimper, and his hands were on you—gripping your hips and flipping you around. He slid back inside you and bottomed out—his balls slapping against your clit.
Your jaw went slack against the pillows, cheek pressed to the soft fabric by Mark’s hand. He held you there for a moment, his chest hard against your back. His hips began to move, the tip of his cock nudging against your g-spot.
“Mark,” you whimpered, clutching the sheets below you.
“Yeah, baby?” he murmured into your neck. “You like that?”
His forehead dropped between your shoulder blades as his entire body shuddered with the effort to keep himself from coming apart. His hands shook where they gripped your hips; every drag of him inside you slow but punishingly deep.
“Doing so good f’me,” he breathed, kissing your shoulder.
His thrusts started to falter, growing erratic and sloppy—there was a desperate kind of ache in his movements now. The bed creaked beneath his thrusts, the force of his movements causing the headboard to smack against the wall.
Mark dragged a hand around to your stomach then, splaying it over your navel and pressing your back against him. He groaned at the sensation, his teeth biting down into your shoulder and remaining there as he spilled into you in hot pulses.
Thick ropes spurt into your cunt—being stuffed deeper and deeper with every half-thrust that followed. Your mouth fell open on a silent gasp, your eyes wide as he shifted slightly and angled his hips deeper.
You expected him to soften, to give you a moment to recover—even if it was for a second. But, for some unholy reason, Mark still didn’t slow down. A broken whimper fell from your lips as he pulled out of you once again—his and your release dripping from your abused cunt.
In a blur, before you could even catch your breath—before you could even think—he was moving, flipping you over in one smooth motion, pulling you on top of him and sliding you down onto his cock.
You were so full, so overwhelmed, you could barely process that he was still hard, still going, still in desperate need of you. Mark groaned, head tipping back against the headboard as you took him to the hilt.
His eyes locked onto where you rolled your hips—letting his cock slowly drag out of you before sinking right back in. Your thighs flexed as you rode him and the heat between you built. He thrusted up into you, meeting your movements with an unexpected roughness.
“Fuck, baby—” he panted, voice breathless, his finger flexing on your ass. "I can't—fuck, just need one more from you—Can you do that for me? Please, baby, just one more."
You lifted a hand from his chest and cupped his mouth as you rode him harder, faster. The pleasure was building quickly, both your thighs shaking from overstimulation. Your breasts bounced with each movement and Mark’s hands slid up your back, over your ribs, before grabbing your tits.
He squeezed your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making your hips stutter into a slow grind that made his cock rub just right inside you. Mark was so incredibly close to losing it all—his hands roaming at any piece of skin he could reach.
His thumb slid back down to your clit, lazily rubbing circles over the swollen bud. Your back arched, pace stuttering for a second before chasing your fast approaching orgasm. You were coming before your brain could even register it was happening.
“Mark,” you moaned, tilting your head back.
Your thighs shook violently, muscles screaming, as you slowed your movements. You could hear him mumble into your palm and you pressed your hand tighter to his mouth. He was so close, and he knew you felt it too.
With a few more weak thrusts, Mark’s cock twitched inside you, and he groaned into your palm. He shuddered beneath you, the intensity of his orgasm clearly overwhelming as he filled you up one last time.
His hips slowed gradually and you let your hand fall from his mouth—the last of your strength giving out entirely. Your head lolled onto his shoulder, too heavy to hold up anymore.
Mark breathed raggedly against your hair, his chest heaving and he could finally feel the burning under his skin start to fade. His taut muscles finally loosened and the desperate need in his chest began to settle.
You were both spent, and there was nothing left for you both but to melt into one another. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck as he placed a delicate kiss on your temple. Slowly, he rubbed lazy circles into your skin—his hands soothing and gentle as you regained your bearings.
He looked down at you with a sigh of contentment, and you lifted your head just enough to kiss the underside of his jaw softly. You felt your chest flutter as he leaned in to kiss your forehead—his gaze warm and loving.
Unwillingly, Mark slowly pulled out, watching his cum spill out of you. His throat bobbed, lips parting slightly as he watched it drip down your thighs and cling to your folds.
“Looks like we’re going to need another shower,” he teased softly.
“I guess so,” you hummed sleepily, closing his mouth with a finger under his chin.
saw quite a lot of tiktoks say this, this is canon
"Zuko... Zuko. Z-zuzu—!"
Thrust.
"I told you not to call me that either," your husband rasped, both eyes scrunched as he drove his hips forward into you in an attempt to distract him from the sudden bout of disgust he felt at the nickname. Your body rocked in tandem with his, a similar expression — one of utmost pleasure — on your face.
But there was something else swirling with the blissed-out look in your eyes — confusion, maybe even concern.
Zuko's thrusts halted almost immediately, eyes slowly but surely opening. But even the warmth of your cunt couldn't stop him from rutting his increasingly hot length inside of you.
Even if they were micro-thrusts that you could barely feel.
"What... what is it? Why are you looking at me?"
But you weren't looking at Zuko — not directly, at least. Your eyes were drifting upwards, up at the white tendrils of smoke that were wafting off of your husbands body and hair.
"...are you close?"
Zuko's face soured immediately.
It was comical how fast his singular brow dropped, the warm hue on his cheeks spreading up to his ears and tinging them with a charming shade of red. The nerve. Had you not been his wife, he would've—
"No," he spat, adamant he wasn't close to blowing a load inside you barely three thrusts in. "We've just started. C-can't be close already."
Which was bullshit. Total, utter, bullshit.
Zuko knew it, too, with the way his balls were beginning to seize up on him. The ache in his groin was growing all too familiar, and you could both feel the temperature in the bedroom increasing drastically.
Sue him, his wife's pussy felt obscenely good.
"You're close, Zu. Can feel you— fuck, growing hotter inside of me." you murmured weakly, fanning your hand in the air to get rid of some of the steam. The minute ruttings from the firelord had ceased completely the moment you said that.
Seriously?
"Can't be. You're lying again."
"Am not," you retorted, voice choked. "It-it's so hot, Zuko. You're burning."
At that point, you were panting, hands flat against Zuko's sweaty stomach that tensed further under your wandering touch. He wouldn't budge at your measly attempts of pushing him off, but the second you flinched at the searing heat blooming across your palm, he lifted his bulky self off of you.
A war was fighting within you — putting any of the former battles Zuko had ever fought before to absolute shame.
Should you let your husband stave off the sex just so he could take a second to cool down, or should you have clenched your aching pussy, milk him for all he was worth and risk a hypothetical third degree burn?
Stupidly, you chose the latter option. A breathy whimper slipped out from between your kiss-bitten lips as you clenched your walls to keep him snug inside, eliciting a hiss from the man above.
"No, don't do that. You'll... it'll hurt you." Your husband mirrored your actions but more carefully, fingertips dancing against your bare stomach in an attempt to keep you settled. "I'll come back, always do."
"So empty, Zuko," you complained somewhat half-heartedly. "I don't like how empty I feel. You know I don't, but you keep working yourself up, 'n we keep stopping. All I want to do is feel good with you."
You could only shuffle into a seated position, fanning your hand again towards the direction of his face. Unable to touch you, Zuko simply watched through brooding eyes — looking like a kicked dog at the prospect of not filling you up tonight the way you deserved. When you huffed out a laugh, ignoring the emptiness down below, so did he. Kind of, as much as warrior like he could muster.
"I'm... sorry. Maybe we should keep a washcloth on standby," Zuko suggested somwhat softly as he tried catching his breath with you. Steam continued to radiate off of his hunched form funnily enough, drawing out a soft grin from you as you pushed his long hair back over his sturdy shoulders.
"That'd look funny," you teased, running a nail down his middle, all the way down to the base of his cock. Zuko's jaw clenched, leaking erection still standing strong and straight. "Watching the water evaporate right. Back. Off. Of. You."
Each word was punctuated with a flick of your wrist after you had experimentally wrapped your fingers around your husbands length — albeit somewhat loosely in case he was still hot to the touch.
Zuko had calmed down somewhat, distracted by the conversation. But the second your fingers met his skin, the steam came back, drifting off into nowhere. It wasn't hard to approach dangerously close to climax when his beloveds nude body was before him, marked with the physical evidence of love itself.
Withdrawing again, you stifled a grin and shook your head. "If only I could find a waterbender... Katara maybe—"
“Zuko—fuck—” you gasp, grabbing the headboard for balance as his tongue immediately drags a thick, wet stripe through your folds. He’s so fucking pussy drunk, eyes fluttering shut as his nose presses right against your clit while his tongue pushes inside you, fucking in and out in messy strokes.
You look down between your legs and the sight nearly ruins you—Zuko’s face shiny with your slick, cheeks flushed dark, hair a complete wreck from how hard you’re gripping it. His golden eyes crack open just enough to lock onto yours and he moans louder when he catches you staring.
“Ride my face,” he rasps, pulling back just enough to speak before diving right back in, tongue flattening to lap broad strokes through your folds. “C’mon, princess—use me. Ride me.”
Your hips start rolling on their own, grinding down against his tongue as he sucks and licks. “Zuko—right there—fuck—” You whine as you start riding him harder, smothering him with your soaked pussy.
His hands slide up to grip your ass, squeezing hard as he pulls you down even tighter against his mouth. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he mumbles right against your clit, the words vibrating through you. He sucks the swollen bud between his lips, flicking his tongue fast and sloppy while you rock against his face. “Taste so fucking good… keep going, just like that.”
You’re practically bouncing on his tongue now, hips rolling in sloppy circles while he laps at you. You’re riding his face with zero shame now, “Zuko—I’m—fuck, I’m close—” you whimper, one hand fisting tighter in his hair while the other braces against the headboard.
Your juices are everywhere, coating his cheeks, his tongue, while his hands spread your ass wider, one thick finger teasing your tight little hole. Your thighs clamp around his head as you grind down one last time, gushing all over his tongue and chin.
“Fuck, princess,” he rasps when you finally slump forward, giving your slit one last soft kiss. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand but it doesn’t do much. “C’mere I wanna watch you ride my cock.”
You stare down at him, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. Your fingers are still tangled in his messy hair before lowering yourself onto his hard thick girth and begin to bounce.
There was one thing you did want to know though…and that was, “So Zuko, where’d you learn how to eat pussy like that?”
Yeah, there was no way he was gonna be able to talk himself outta this one.
he's told you this many times now, but you often brush off the firelord's ask as fleeting desire. perhaps a new fetish - the thought of seeing you knocked up and so evidently claimed by him that any time you'd leave his chambers, people would see you as his, pregnant and swollen with his child.
you didn't take him seriously at all, until he dragged you away from his council room where you'd been seated next to him the whole time, giving him such sweet, pure little looks and rubbing his thigh dangerously close to his cock, all while murmuring praises whenever he proposed a strong idea. such words could've also been used in bed, as you'd been saying things like;
"so good, zuko."
"well done, my prince."
among other words in that sultry voice of yours.
now he has you folded up in his huge bed, pushing your legs wide open as far as they'll go as he pounds his achingly swollen cock into your chubby pussy with the sole goal of pumping you full of his babies.
you cry out and dig your nails into his strong shoulders, wondering what's come into your loving husband. how he's gone from lovemaking to fucking you raw into the mattress, aiming the thick head of his cock straight for your womb and kissing your cervix each time he bottoms out.
"didn't fuck- take me seriously at all." he grunts, watching juices spill out of you as he keeps aiming his long, curved cock straight for your womb, dragging his engorged shaft along your softened sweet spots each time. it makes your toes curl and your nails cut into his flesh as pleasure overwhelms you. "i told you i wanted to get you fuckin' pregnant, and you thought i was joking. what makes you think i'd ever joke about something like that?"
"zuko!" you call his name between garbled moans, your head tipping back into the pillow when he pushes his cock flat into your cervix yet again, slowing his thrusts just enough to hit it gently, not to hurt, but to deliver a fucking message. he tuts at your whining and lets out a soft hiss as you rake your nails down his skin. the pain does not deter him at all, only encouraging to pound your puffy cunt harder.
he grabs handfuls of your tits, squeezing and rubbing his skilled fingers along your budding nipples until they're hard and stout, his tongue licking over his lips hungrily as he imagines how they'll dribble with milk once you're thoroughly bred. he leans down and pushes your breasts together so he can suck both nipples into his mouth at once, tasting the sweetness of your skin and sweat for now and fixating on how much sweeter you'll taste with milk pouring into his mouth.
he plans to fuck your cunt as long as he can while you're pregnant, too.
the new angle has his cock spearing into you impossibly deeper, and as a reaction, your pussy flutters around him, milking his cock greedily and trying to wring the cum straight out of him. one more squeeze of your velvety walls around his dick has his cock swelling up, and with a loud groan into your tits, he spills a hot, thick, heavy load right into your womb, fucking you through it in hopes that this round of cum will surely get you pregnant.
thinking of karlach who's obsessed with the new domesticity she has with you. sfw + nsfw.
after years alone in the depths of the hells, never getting a chance to go more than a few minutes at a time to truly feel safe, its safe to say that as soon as she has the opportunity to just be at peace in your new home she takes it with a deep sign and a serene smile.
thanks to helping out weary travelers and friends on your journey to saving the realm (and some very much deserved generosity from the people of baldur's gate), the both of you are able to settle in a quaint little cottage not too far from the city. it took some fixing up, a leaky roof here and a broken gate there, but at the end of the day it was home.
sometimes its hard for karlach to grasp, that after all this time she has a place to call home again. instead of a cramped and hot barracks she rests her head on the plush of your carefully picked out pillows and sheets, the perfect blend of sturdy bet soft that can have her falling asleep in seconds after a long day on the farm or cuddling and talking with you for hours.
and maybe what makes it better, as she so often loves to tell people and friends when they visit, is that she gets to share it with you. every so often during the day you'll catch her admiring you while you do your chores, the red beauty looking at you from inside while you feed your chickens an early breakfast. unable to go without touch for long she'll routinely come out to help you even when you don't need it, hell she's helped you shovel cow shit just to spend a few more minutes by your side.
but maybe she loves every little mundane thing in your routine because every thing is a reminded that she's here, she made it, literally went through hell and back and now gets to live the simple, sweet, and romantic life she's dreamed of.
so she kisses you every time you cook dinner together, wraps you in her arms before you go off to sell some leftover goods at the market, and plucks you a custom bouquet of wildflowers on her weekly walks through the forest with scratch.
and by the gods, did she love to show you her love for you in the most intimate ways possible.
when karlach's engine was first fixed (and even before that, thanks to your shared creativity), the only fitting way to describe your sex life together was phenomenal. like two puzzle pieces you both just fit, giving and receiving in a perfect balance that led to your shared satisfaction nearly every night. it was expected that after a while the excitement and giddiness would cool and you'd settle into a slower pace, but if anything your beloved was only more attached to your body.
it was safe to expect to wake in your early mornings with a shuttered gasp and a hand thrust down into karlach's hair, her hot tongue tracing shapes and her name into your cunt until you came with a loud cry into her mouth. she wouldn't stop until the shake of your legs knocked her head from your center, tracing tender kisses and playful bites up your thighs and stomach before landing on yours, a sweet peck and toothy smile along with an overly cheery 'good morning, baby' bringing you into your day.
as much as you chastised her for it, you couldn't resist when she'd come onto you during your work. good luck trying to pick up one of the hay bales, because as soon as your fingers graze the spiky yellow texture a large red hand is settling on your hand and another is on your waist, joined together by a strong red body pressed right up against your ass. she tries to pass it of as being helpful, that ‘you should leave all the hard work to me, darling!’ but you can hear the truth in her voice, a thinly veiled arousal waiting to burst any moment.
maybe she really catches a glimpse of the sweat trailing down your neck, the flush of your skin from constant movement, or maybe it’s because she just really likes when you’re bent over for her, but suddenly the hay bale is off of both of your minds when she’s impatiently pushing your body over to a hidden corner in the back of your barn, your hands steadying your body on the wood as your lover grinds herself into your behind, the coarseness of her hair and the brief blink and you'll miss it brushes of her clit between your thighs metaphorically (and damn near literally) driving you up the walls.
and sometimes you don't have to look blissful in your garden or hard at work on your farm, something as simple as you walking around the house can get her going. you still blush when you remember the day you accidentally put on one of her oversized shirts in the morning, figuring she wouldn't mind if you wore it just while you read on your couch. when the bleary-eyed barbarian stepped out of the bedroom and was met with the sight of your bare legs thrown over the couch arm and her shirt stopping at the middle of your thighs, she truly showed you the meaning of her class name as she quickly settled on the floor between your legs and ate your cunt like she was starving, only stopping so she could switch to stuffing you with her fingers so she could watch the way your body writhed covered in the fabric.
she wasn't just fueled by lust, however. one moonlit night you asked her what constantly drew her to you like a magnet and she bit the inside of her cheek before quietly responding that you just needed to look happy. you laughed the first time she said it, wondering if there was a time since you met her if you were anything but, but the look in her golden eyes and the tremor in her normally sturdy eyes told you what she really meant. she wanted, needed to know that you felt the same way she did every day, like any of these mornings she would wake up and this would all be a sick but sweet dream before she woke up back in the hell that was her life.
and what can you do but assure her that it's all real? you're glad she gets this way after you've both settled into bed, because you revel in taking hours twisted between the sheets and each others bodies as you bring her apart using your mouth, then your fingers, then both, before finishing with her body underneath yours as you slowly move your cunt above and on to hers, breathily giggling at the sight of her nails digging in to her palms at her barely contained desire to grip your hips and move you how she wants. any other time you'd encourage it, but on nights like these you want to make a point.
its hot and aching and pleasurable to the point of agony, but it's all worth it when she falls apart with a shout and quick falling tears while crushing your body to lay on hers, her moans drifting off into gasps of your name and declarations of love before she settles into silence with you.
"sorry if i get too...i don't know, paranoid," the deep timbre of her voice pulls you from the beginning throes of sleep, combined with her nails gently ghosting along the skin of your back. "all of this, and having it with you, just feels too good to be true."
you smile, pressing a kiss to her chest. "i know. but we earned this, we deserve it. besides, it'd take another army to take you away from me, i can only imagine it's the same for you."
"you've got no idea, soldier."
i wanted to buy a shirt of my #1 baby mama vi at hot topic but all of arcane's merch is ✨dogshit ugly✨ so i bought a karlach shirt instead. then i thought of her railing me in it soooo here we are.
A/N: Although I'm choosing Astarion as my first romance in my first playthrough due to his lore, I had to MENTALLY pry myself away from Karlach,, I LOVE HER SOOOO MUCH I still contemplate my decisions too, but I'm sticking with Astarion for now :,(
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, female reader, overstimulation, fingering, squirting, strap usage, mdom/sub/switch, scissoring/tribbing, rough sex, cunnilingus, minor bdsm, p in v, spanking, riding, face riding. (if I miss any let me know!!)
Karlach overstimulation your poor cunt to get you to squirt.
Karlach spreading your legs further, begging for more.
Groping Karlach's tits while grinding on her cunt.
Karlach promised you that she would ride you till you saw stars if you were to help her with her infernal engine.
A gift for Karlach after helping you on your journey.
You beneath Karlach, taking her strap. She loves watching you melt.
Karlach fucking you into the cot with her strap.
Karlach spanking you silly.
Karlach making you take her real good.
You wanted to take charge this time, thrusting into Karlach hard.
You couldn't touch her, but Karlach wanted you to watch her express her feelings to you.
Eating Karlach out, thanking her for such hard work.
Enjoying some time with Karlach while everyone is out of camp.
cw: pwp, smut, pure filth, dubcon, inappropriate use of mage hand
MINORS DNI
Karlach:
The armor clattered to the riverbed with a muffled thud, the cold water doing little to quell the infernal heat radiating from Karlach's skin – and your own, now. You fumbled with the straps of your own soaked clothes, fingers clumsy with a need that was both terrifying and exhilarating. The curse sang in your blood, a primal symphony of desire, urging you closer, faster.
Karlach's golden eyes burned with an intensity that mirrored your own. She reached for you, her large hands, roughened from battle, yet surprisingly gentle, skimmed over your shivering form, pulling you flush against her. The contrast was shocking – the icy river water swirling around your hips, your core pressed against her fiery heat. Her touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine that had nothing to do with the water's chill. You could feel the heat radiating from her, even through the soaked fabric of your clothes, igniting a fire within you.
"How I can't wait to devour you" she murmured, her voice a low rumble that vibrated through you, sending a delicious tremor through your core.
Your own hands found purchase on her broad shoulders, fingers digging into the smooth, hot skin. You tilted your head back, offering yourself to her, and her answering kiss was immediate and devouring. Her lips were firm and demanding, tasting of fire and something uniquely Karlach.
There was no teasing, no restraint, only a raw, desperate hunger that mirrored the curse's demands. Her tongue danced with yours, a fierce, wet exploration that left you breathless and wanting more.
The river swirled around you, the gentle current a stark contrast to the tempest raging between you. Karlach lifted you, her strength effortless, and you wrapped your legs around her waist, clinging to her as if she were the only solid thing in a world gone mad. The feel of her body against yours was intoxicating, the heat of her skin searing through your soaked clothes. Her breasts, full and firm, pressed against your own, the friction sending a jolt of pure desire through you.
Deeper into the river she strode, the water level rising with each step until it lapped at your chest. You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your breath mingling with the steam rising from Karlach's skin. Her eyes locked onto yours, pupils dilated with lust, and you knew, with a certainty that settled deep within your bones, that you were completely and utterly hers in this moment.
"Here," she growled, her voice thick with lust. She positioned you against a moss-covered rock, the rough surface surprisingly welcome against your back. Her eyes raked over you, possessive and hungry, and you arched into her touch, every nerve ending screaming for release. The way she looked at you made you feel desired, cherished, completely consumed. Her gaze lingered on the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, making you feel utterly, exquisitely feminine.
With a swift, practiced movement, she settled between your legs. The joining of your bodies was explosive, a collision of fire and ice, pleasure and pain, need and fulfillment. You cried out, the sound swallowed by the rush of the river, your nails digging into her back as you held on for dear life. Every part of you was filled with her, stretched and pleasured in a way you had never experienced before. The slick heat of her was overwhelming, consuming.
Karlach moved with a power that was both terrifying and exhilarating. Each thrust of her hips was deep, demanding, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The curse amplified every sensation, turning the world into a kaleidoscope of heat and pressure. You were drowning in her, lost in the rhythm of your bodies, the world outside the river fading into a distant hum.
"Yes," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. "Faster, Karlach."
And she did. Her movements became more insistent, more demanding, driving you both higher and higher. You could feel the heat building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you thought you might shatter.
Finally, release crashed over you in a wave of pure, white-hot sensation. Your body convulsed around Karlach, your cries echoing in the night. Karlach followed soon after, her own guttural roar shaking the very foundations of the riverbank.
You clung to each other, breathless and slick with sweat and river water, the curse sated for now. The world slowly swam back into focus, the sounds of the night – crickets chirping, the gentle lapping of the water – gradually filling the silence.
Minthara:
A predatory smile stretched across your face, the curse fueling a desire to dominate that even surprised you. Usually, Minthara held the reins, but the tables had turned, and you intended to relish this.
"Oh, I will," you purred, your voice low and dangerous. "But we're doing this my way now."
Her breath hitched. The fight in her eyes hadn't completely vanished, but there was a tremor of anticipation, a flicker of something akin to fear mixed with desperate longing. You released one of her wrists, letting your hand trail down her throat, feeling the frantic pulse beneath your fingertips. She tilted her head back, her sharp features vulnerable in the fading light.
"Beg," you commanded, the word rough and laced with the sudden, potent pull of the curse. Minthara’s eyes widened further, a flash of her usual imperiousness warring with the overwhelming need. For a moment, she almost refused. But then, a soft, almost broken sound escaped her lips. "
...Please." The single word was all the permission you needed. Your mouth crashed down on hers again, harder, more demanding this time. You kissed her deeply, possessively, your tongue invading her mouth, demanding and taking. Her hands, now free, clutched at your shoulders, her body arching against yours, desperate. You broke the kiss, leaving her gasping, her lips bruised and wet. Your gaze locked with hers, letting her see the raw hunger in your eyes. You lifted her slightly, positioning her against the tree so her full weight rested against you.
Your other hand didn't waste time. You roughly tore away the remaining pieces of her armor, your touch urgent. Each rip of fabric, each exposed inch of her heated skin, elicited a gasp or a whimper from her. The usual composed mask had shattered, leaving behind a raw, needy vulnerability that was intensely arousing.
Once she was stripped bare, you wasted no time. You reached out, and with a flick of your wrist and a muttered incantation, your Mage Hand appeared, hovering between you. You positioned Minthara firmly against the tree, your body heat radiating against hers. You then moved between her legs, your hips pressing against hers
Minthara's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and exhilaration on her face. You reached up, your fingers forcefully grabbing her jaw and you bit at her lips before deepening the kiss as you began to move against her. The kiss was rough, demanding, a primal assertion of control.
As you rutted against her, you directed the spectral hand to trace her body, the incorporeal touch feather-light yet incredibly stimulating. Her breath hitched, her back arching as the maage hand trailed over her cunt, teasing and tormenting her hole before slipping a single digit in. The curse had her so wet and wound up that it wasn't long before another finger was added and then another.
You watched her, your own desire spiking as she writhed under your control. The dual sensations - your forceful movements and the Mage Hand's touch - pushed her closer and closer to the edge. You felt her nails digging into your shoulders, her moans growing more desperate. You could only smirk through your own pleasure and continue
With a final, powerful movement of your hips and thrust from the mage hand, you took her, relentless and driven by the curse. Minthara cried out, her body clenching around you, her head falling back against the tree as she surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. You continued, your pace animalistic and unforgiving, leaving Minthara writhing in blessed overstimulation until you too found release, the world exploding in a riot of sensation.
The two of you stood there against the tree, foreheads connecting as you shakily cupped her cheek and brought her face to your lips again, this time softer, soothing. Minthara smiled and kissed back, relishing in how you melted into it before delivering a quick nip to your lower lip and flipping your positions.
"Your turn now."
Shadowheart:
The heat between you was a tangible thing, a raging inferno consuming all sense and reason. Shadowheart shifted, her body grinding against yours, the friction igniting a wildfire in your core. You could feel her desire, the desperate need for release, mirroring your own, amplified and intensified.
With a groan, you sank to your knees with her, the rough forest floor a sudden, grounding reality against the wild swirl of the curse. You were both breathing heavily, chests heaving, eyes locked in a silent battle of wills that neither of you was winning.
"This... this is madness," you gasped, but even as you spoke, your hips tilted involuntarily, seeking closer contact. A moan escaped your lips, a sound you couldn't suppress. Shadowheart's lips curved into a subtle smile.
"Exquisite madness," she corrected, her voice husky and low. Her hands found the hem of your tunic, pulling it up with impatient urgency. You reciprocated, your fingers fumbling with the fastenings of her armor, desperate to feel her skin against yours. You couldn't stop the soft gasps that punctuated your movements.
Clothes were discarded haphazardly, scattered across the forest floor like offerings to the lustful curse that bound you. The cool air against your heated skin did little to quell the inferno within.
You positioned yourselves instinctively, facing each other, legs tangling, bodies pressed so close there was no space left between you. The ancient trees seemed to lean in, silent witnesses to the raw, primal energy that pulsed in the clearing.
Shadowheart’s hands framed your face, her thumbs tracing the lines of your jaw, her gaze intense and possessive. Her touch was rougher now, more demanding.
"Mine," she breathed, the word a claiming brand on your soul.
You met her gaze, the heat in your own eyes reflecting the same fierce desire. Moans bubbled up from your throat, beyond your control.
"Yours," you agreed, the word a surrender and a promise.
And then, you were moving.
The rhythm was instinctive, desperate, fueled by the relentless demands of the curse. Shadowheart’s movements were forceful, grinding you against her with a raw intensity that bordered on pain and pleasure. You couldn't stop the sounds of your own arousal - whimpers, gasps, and soft cries that echoed through the silent woods.
Her hands moved over you, exploring, caressing, demanding. She traced the curves of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the swell of your hips, her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You arched into her, your moans growing louder, more insistent.
Your own hands found her waist, her hips, pulling her impossibly closer, seeking a deeper connection. You were lost in the sensation, the feel of her skin against yours, the taste of her on your lips, the scent of her filling your senses. Every nerve ending was on fire, and you surrendered to the pleasure, the sounds of your ecstasy echoing around you.
The world narrowed to the two of you, entwined and desperate, seeking solace and release in the depths of the forest. The curse had taken hold, pushing you beyond the limits of reason, but in each other's arms, there was a strange, twisted comfort.
Release finally shattered over you, a wave of pure, white-hot sensation that left you both gasping and trembling. You clung to each other, bodies slick with sweat, the forest floor a soft cushion beneath you. The curse still thrummed between you, but for a moment, you were both suspended in a state of exhausted bliss, the world outside fading into a distant hum.
Lae'zel:
The world dissolved into a haze of heat and sensation. Lae'zel, usually so controlled and precise, was a whirlwind of raw need. Her hands, which typically wielded a blade with deadly efficiency, now roamed over you with a desperate tenderness that was both unfamiliar and utterly captivating. You usually saw her as fierce and боевой, all sharp edges and focused intensity. This softer, more vulnerable Lae'zel, driven by a force she couldn't control, was a revelation.
She shifted, her weight pressing you deeper into the soft earth, her body molding against yours with an urgency that stole your breath. Her kisses deepened, no longer tentative but demanding, her tongue exploring your mouth with a thoroughness that left you breathless and aching. But even as the kiss deepened, she seemed desperate for more, her lips never leaving yours for long, as if she couldn't bear the separation, even for a single breath.
Your hands, which had been pushing ineffectually against her, now clutched at her, fingers digging into her back, holding her as close as possible. You were lost in the feel of her - the solid strength of her, the unexpected softness beneath the rigid planes of her body. Every moan and gasp that escaped your lips seemed to fuel her further, driving her to a fever pitch.
She broke the kiss, her golden eyes blazing down at you, her face a study in concentration, but only for a fleeting moment. She moved slightly, positioning herself between your legs, her hips grinding against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm that sent shockwaves of pleasure through you.
You arched into her, your own hips meeting hers, the friction building with each press. Her lips followed yours, her mouth hungry and demanding, stealing every breath you had.
"Yes," she growled, the word a rough demand, her voice thick with lust. "Like that. Again. Kiss me."
Her hands found your breasts, her touch surprisingly gentle as she kneaded and stroked, her thumbs circling your nipples, drawing sharp cries from you.
You were beyond coherent thought, lost in the sensations. You had never felt so completely possessed, so utterly consumed. Her lips never left yours as she did this, her body moving with a growing urgency.
You moved against her, your own rhythm matching hers, desperate for release. You were dimly aware of the forest around you, the soft earth beneath you, the ancient trees standing as silent witnesses to your passion.
But it was just the two of you, bound together by the curse, surrendering to a desire that was both terrifying and exhilarating. Lae'zel's need for constant lip contact was a driving force, her mouth never leaving yours for more than a second, her breaths mingling with yours in a hot, desperate exchange.
The release, when it came, was explosive. A wave of pure, white-hot pleasure crashed over you, shuddering through your body, leaving you weak and trembling. Lae'zel followed soon after, her own cries mingling with yours, her body clenching around you in a tight embrace. And even in the aftermath, her lips sought yours, her need for that connection insatiable.
You lay beneath her, chests heaving, hearts pounding in unison. The curse still thrummed between you, but for a blissful moment, you were simply two beings, connected in the most primal and intimate way possible, the unfamiliar tenderness of Lae'zel's touch and her desperate need for your lips lingering on your skin like a brand.
Jaheira:
The moment the curse took hold, the last vestiges of your resistance crumbled. A matching fire ignited within you, mirroring the desperate need in Jaheira’s eyes. Her grip on your hips tightened, pulling you flush against her, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around her neck, clinging to her as if she were the only solid thing in a suddenly chaotic world of pure sensation.
Her kisses grew more frantic, more demanding, her tongue plunging into your mouth, tasting and claiming. You met her urgency with your own, your body arching against hers, every nerve ending screaming for contact. The years of unspoken longing, the carefully maintained distance, shattered in the face of this shared, overwhelming desire.
With a low growl, Jaheira shifted, her hands leaving your hips to tear at the fastenings of your clothes. You reciprocated, your fingers fumbling with the buckles and straps of her armor, driven by a primal need to feel her skin against yours. The campfire cast dancing shadows on your intertwined bodies as garments were discarded in a flurry of desperate movement.
Once bare skin met bare skin, the intensity escalated. Jaheira’s hands roamed over you, possessive and sure, her touch igniting sparks wherever she made contact. She cupped your breasts, her thumbs teasing your nipples until sharp cries escaped your lips. You tangled your fingers in her thick, blonde hair, pulling her closer, desperate for the feel of her mouth on your skin.
She obliged, her lips leaving yours to trail down your neck, across your collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her teeth grazed your skin, sending shivers of pleasure mixed with a wild urgency through you. You moaned, your body trembling uncontrollably as she paid homage to every inch of you.
You, in turn, explored her powerful, battle-hardened body, your hands tracing the lines of her muscles, the curve of her spine, the tautness of her stomach. The years had etched a map of strength and resilience onto her skin, and you reveled in every contour.
Jaheira shifted again, her leg sliding between yours, the intimate contact sending a jolt of pure sensation through you. You gasped, your hips lifting instinctively, seeking a deeper connection. She met your movement, her own desire a palpable force.
"Tell me what you want," she commanded, her voice rough with need, her eyes burning into yours.
The curse had stripped away all pretense, all hesitation.
"You," you breathed, the word a raw admission of the longing you had held in check for so long.
And Jaheira obliged. She took, and you gave freely, the shared curse a catalyst for a passion that had always simmered beneath the surface. Her movements were both fierce and tender, her experienced touch knowing exactly how to drive you to the brink of ecstasy. Each caress, each kiss, was imbued with a desperate need that mirrored your own.
The sounds of your passion echoed in the quiet clearing – your ragged breaths, her low growls, the soft slapping of skin against skin. You were lost in the sensation, the world outside the circle of firelight ceasing to exist.
The release, when it finally claimed you, was shattering. You cried out, your body convulsing around her, clinging to her as the waves of pleasure washed over you. Jaheira followed, her own release a primal roar that shook the very air around you.
You lay entangled, breathless and slick with sweat, the embers of the campfire mirroring the lingering heat between you. The curse had taken hold, but in its wake, it had unleashed a fierce, unbridled passion that had been waiting for its moment. And in that moment, with Jaheira’s arms wrapped tightly around you, you knew that you were both utterly, gloriously lost in each other.
Gale:
The gentleness you were accustomed to from him was gone, replaced by a raw, demanding hunger that thrilled and terrified you in equal measure. He moved against you, his body a hard, insistent presence, his hands roaming with a possessive urgency.
He tore at your clothes, the fabric ripping easily under his suddenly forceful grip. You helped him, your own movements clumsy with need, desperate to feel his skin against yours. The dim light of the tent flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls as you shed the last of your inhibitions.
When you were both naked, he loomed over you, his eyes burning with a dark intensity. He braced his hands on either side of your head, gazing down at you as if you were the most precious thing he had ever seen.
"Gods, you're beautiful," he rasped, his voice rough and unfamiliar. "So beautiful. Mine."
Then, he moved lower. His mouth trailed down your throat, his teeth grazing your skin, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. He lingered at your breasts, his tongue circling your nipples with a hot, wet insistence that made you arch beneath him, your back bowing off the bedroll.
"Perfect," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "You feel so perfect."
His hands found your waist, lifting you slightly, positioning you for his entry. You were open to him, vulnerable and aching, every part of you thrumming with anticipation. He paused, his gaze locking with yours, a silent question passing between you. You nodded, your eyes half-closed, your lips parted in a soundless plea.
He entered you slowly, stretching you, filling you completely. You cried out, the sound a mixture of pain and pleasure, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He stilled for a moment, letting you adjust, his face contorted with a mixture of lust and something that looked almost like reverence.
"You're so tight," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "I can't believe you're mine."
Then, he began to move.
It was rough, it was deep, it was everything you had never experienced with him before. Each thrust was powerful and demanding, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You met him thrust for thrust, your hips bucking against his, your moans echoing in the confined space of the tent.
"Yes," he panted, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "That's it. Take it. Take all of it."
He couldn't seem to stop praising you. With every thrust, he whispered your name, telling you how incredible you felt, how perfect you were, how much he needed you. The words were like fuel to the fire, driving you both higher and higher.
"You're driving me insane," he growled, his hands gripping your hips, his pace quickening. "I'm going to—"
His release was a raw, guttural sound, a primal cry of possession and ecstasy. You followed soon after, your own climax a shattering wave that ripped through you, leaving you weak and trembling.
He collapsed on top of you, his weight heavy but welcome. You clung to him, your bodies slick with sweat, your hearts pounding in unison.
The curse had transformed him, unleashing a side of him you never knew existed, a side that was both terrifying and exhilarating. And as you lay there, breathless and sated, you knew you would never be the same. Or at least your sex life would never be the same.
Astarion:
You deepened the kiss, your hands moving to cup his face, ensuring he felt cherished, even in this heightened state. His response was immediate, a needy groan that vibrated against your lips. You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze.
"I want to make this good for you," you said, your voice firm, ensuring he understood your intention. "Only what you want."
He searched your eyes, a flicker of his usual guardedness before it melted into raw need. "All of you" he rasped.
You smiled, a genuine, tender smile. "Then let's start there."
You shifted, positioning yourself to kneel before him. His breath hitched as he realized your intent. You took him into your mouth, your movements slow, reverent, focused entirely on his pleasure.
While you did, Astarion conjured a Mage Hand. The spectral hand hovered near you, its touch incredibly stimulating. It traced patterns on your clit, teasing and tantalizing, mirroring the sensations you were creating for Astarion.
The combination of the physical and the ethereal was almost overwhelming, pushing you both closer to the edge. His hands clenched in your hair, his body trembling, but he made no move to direct you, trusting your touch. You varied the pressure, the rhythm, your gaze never leaving his, ensuring he was enjoying every sensation.
As you continued, his breaths grew more ragged, his sounds more desperate. He was close.
He pulled you away gently, his hands framing your face, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart pound.
"I want to be inside you," he said, his voice thick with need and a surprising vulnerability.
You nodded, your own desire a mirror of his. You shifted, positioning yourself to receive him, your body aching for that connection.
He moved over you, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you time to adjust. He entered you, filling you completely. You cried out, the sound a mixture of pleasure and relief.
He stilled for a moment, letting you adjust, his gaze locked with yours. Then, he began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful, driving you both towards the edge. You met him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm, the shared pleasure eclipsing everything else.
"You're incredible," he breathed, his voice a husky litany of praise. "So beautiful. So perfect."
You arched into him, your own release building, the world narrowing to the feel of his skin against yours, the sound of his ragged breaths, the sight of his face contorted in pleasure.
"Astarion," you gasped, your body clenching around him.
He tensed, his own release imminent. He gave a raw, guttural cry, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. You met him with equal fervor, your bodies moving in perfect harmony.
The release shattered over you both, a wave of pure, white-hot ecstasy that left you trembling and breathless. You clung to each other, the forest fading into a distant hum, the curse momentarily forgotten in the aftermath of pleasure.
Wyll:
The kiss deepened, becoming less about persuasion and more about possession. Wyll shifted, his weight pressing you further into the soft bedroll, his body heat searing through your clothes. He moved with an unhurried confidence, a stark contrast to his earlier desperation. His hands, which had been framing your face, now roamed lower, tracing the curve of your waist, the flare of your hips. The contact was electric, sending shivers of anticipation through you.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with lust and a possessive undertone that sent a shiver down your spine. He broke the kiss, his gaze intense and unwavering, pupils dilated with desire. "Mine."
Then, he began to move, his hips grinding against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm that left no room for doubt about his intentions. He was taking you, here and now, curse be damned. And you, caught in the intoxicating heat of the moment, found yourself unable to resist the raw, primal hunger in his eyes. His movements were a blatant claim, a sensual assertion of ownership that both thrilled and terrified you.
His charming banter didn't disappear entirely, though it took on a decidedly more carnal edge.
"Gods, you feel incredible," he'd rasp as he thrust deeper, his words punctuated by sharp inhales and the sounds of skin on skin. "Like coming home. Like… the only place I want to be."
He punctuated his words with bruising kisses, his lips leaving a trail of dark marks down your neck, each one a searing reminder of his touch. These weren't gentle pecks; they were hungry, demanding bites that claimed your flesh as his own. The marks were a deliberate display, a possessive branding that left no question of your intimacy.
The possessiveness was a new, thrilling facet of Wyll. It was as if the curse had stripped away his usual layers of decorum, revealing a primal hunger that had always been there, lurking beneath the surface. His hetechromic eyes burned with an intensity that spoke of a deep-seated need to possess, to dominate, to make you his in every sense of the word.
"Wyll," you gasped, your own desire escalating with each thrust, each possessive mark. Your breath hitched, your body arching to meet his.
He chuckled, a low, guttural sound that vibrated against your skin, sending tremors of pleasure through you. "Yes, my heart?"
"Harder," you managed to choke out, the word barely audible, a plea and a command all in one.
His answering smirk was pure male dominance. "As you wish."
And he did. He drove into you with increasing force, his movements powerful and demanding, bordering on rough. The earlier desperation had been replaced by a focused, unwavering intent.
He was staking his claim, branding you with his touch, his taste, his very essence. He'd grip your hips, lifting you slightly to control the depth and angle of each thrust, his power absolute.
The world narrowed to the feel of his body against yours, the sound of his ragged breaths mingling with your own whimpers, the possessive marks he was leaving on your skin.
You were his, and he was making damn sure you knew it, imprinting himself on you with every forceful thrust, every carnal word, every possessive touch.
Halsin:
His mouth left yours to blaze a trail down your throat, his teeth nipping gently at your skin, eliciting a gasp that quickly turned into a moan. He supported your weight effortlessly, his powerful thighs a cradle against the rough bark of the tree. With a primal groan, he shifted, his knee nudging your legs apart, positioning you with a certainty that spoke of instinct rather than reason.
You were open to him, vulnerable and aching, the sudden urgency of his touch igniting a fire in your own loins. He paused, his golden eyes, still glazed with that potent hunger, locking onto yours. "Are you sure, my heart?" he rumbled, the question a low vibration against your skin.
You nodded fiercely, your fingers tangling in his thick hair, pulling his head down for another searing kiss.
"Now, Halsin," you breathed, the word a desperate plea.
He needed no further prompting. With a guttural roar that echoed through the quiet woods, he thrust into you, filling you completely. The force of his entry slammed you against the tree, the rough bark digging into your back, but the discomfort was instantly overshadowed by the intense pleasure of being filled by him, truly filled by him, in a way that transcended your usual tender intimacy.
He began to move, his hips grinding against yours with a hard, relentless rhythm. Each thrust was deep and powerful, stretching you, taking you further and further into the intoxicating sensation. You cried out, your legs wrapping around his waist, clinging to him as if he were the only anchor in a storm.
"Gods, you feel good," he groaned, his voice thick with lust and exertion. He braced his hands on either side of your head, his gaze possessive, devouring you. "So tight. So hot."
You bucked against him, meeting his thrusts with a desperate urgency of your own. The primal nature of the act, the hard wood against your back, the raw, untamed hunger in his eyes, all combined to create a sensation that was both exhilarating and slightly terrifying.
A flicker of worry crossed your mind – the bear. What if the curse twisted him further?
As if sensing your unease, he paused, his forehead pressed against yours, his breathing ragged.
"No shifting, my heart," he rumbled, his voice surprisingly lucid amidst the haze of lust. "I want all my human senses to experience you. Every touch, every sigh, every shudder."
His words, raw and possessive, banished your fear, replacing it with a surge of pure desire. You tightened your grip on his hair, urging him to continue.
He obliged, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming deeper, more insistent. He braced one hand against the tree beside your head, the other sliding down your abdomen, pressing firmly just below your navel. You gasped as you felt his fingers dig slightly into your flesh, a possessive mark that sent a shiver of pure sensation through you.
He watched your face intently as he thrust, a dark, almost predatory smile spreading across his lips as he saw the subtle bulge his movements created in your lower belly. It was a primal display of dominance, a visual confirmation of his possession, and it sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through you.
"Mine," he growled, the word a possessive claim that echoed in the stillness of the woods. He continued his relentless assault, his gaze fixed on the evidence of his penetration, the slight distension of your abdomen a visible testament to your joined state.
The intensity built, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing around him, your nails digging into his shoulders.
Halsin roared his own release, a primal sound that shook the very trees around you, his body shuddering as he emptied himself into you, hard and deep against the rough bark.
Even as the waves of pleasure subsided, he held you tightly against the tree, his breath hot against your neck, his hand still possessively pressed against your lower belly. The curse might have ignited this raw, untamed hunger, but the possessive gleam in his golden eyes felt undeniably, thrillingly real.
damn is it hot in here or what? I hope you guys liked this, I get much more writer's block with smut which is why I don't write it as much so I hope you guys enjoy this!! - Seluney xox
If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x
your boyfriend, jason todd, is the one who insists on movie night.
He’s already in full cozy mode: hoodie up, socks mismatched, dragging every blanket within reach to the couch like he’s fortifying a position. You spend a solid twenty minutes debating movies. Him vetoing anything “too artsy,” you vetoing his fifth consecutive suggestion of Die Hard, both of you pretending the real argument isn’t just an excuse to keep bumping shoulders and stealing popcorn kernels from each other’s fingers.
Eventually you compromise on something with explosions and questionable plot logic, his pick, naturally.
He hits play, hits the lights, then promptly hits you.
Full body drop. One hundred ninety pounds of ex-Robin muscle and residual Pit stubbornness lands square on top of you, pinning you cheerfully into the cushions. His arms snake around your ribs, legs tangle with yours, face immediately burrows into the soft space just below your collarbone. You feel the huff of his exhale against your chest, warm and already slowing.
Three minutes. Maybe four.
The opening credits are still rolling when his breathing evens out into the deep, unmistakable rhythm of sleep. He's already out cold, lips parted slightly against your shirt, one hand still loosely curled in your hoodie like he’s afraid you’ll evaporate if he lets go.
And you?
You’re trapped.
Every time you so much as twitch, he instinctively tightens. Arms flex, thighs bracket yours more securely, a low sleepy grumble vibrating against your sternum.
So you give up.
You settle.
You card your fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, feel the way he melts further into you even in sleep. The movie keeps playing while the real show is the slow rise and fall of his back under your palm, the faint scar on his cheek, the way he’s somehow managed to wrap all six-foot-something of himself around you like you’re the only anchor he trusts.
An hour and a half of this, at least.
a/n: wrote this in like 15 minutes and i just KNOW that bc it's jason it's gonna get at least 1k notes. and i love that
characters: jason todd x reader (except Jason is a transmasc lesbian in this teehee)
tags: masturbation, no plot just straight up porn, transmasculine!jason todd, lesbian!jason todd, she/they pronouns used for Jason, sex toy, jason as a top, reader is submissive and impossibly horny for jason in this.
synopsis: you're a humble librarian that works at one of gotham's public libraries and there's a person named Jacin who happens to frequent your workplace. late at night, you muse certain fantasies about Jacin and how their fingers and mouth would explore the secrets of your body.
a/n: shout out to my best friend @spid3rw0mxn who has a big brain and said she pictures jason a big, buff, butch lesbian. yeah, yeah.
A light buzz sounds throughout the room, the vibration of a sex toy sending waves of pleasure through your body. You feel yourself panting, your legs sprawled across your bed as your mouth hangs agape. Your mind won’t stop thinking about her. The way she towers over you, their icy, green stare, and toned arm muscles with their wide thighs.
Jacin looks like a person straight out of your darkest fantasies. A pouty, tantilizing mouth with a scar over her top lip, and green eyes that look almost glossed over. Their strong, angular jaw, and her deep set eyes that darken whenever someone is bothering them, the white streak sticking out from her otherwise raven hair.
If you try your hardest, you can picture her now, her head propped between your thighs, licking a line over your slit, then dipping into your wet cunt. Her rough hands would grip your hips as you’d try to break free from them and their merciless tongue. She’d expertly take your clit into her warm mouth, suckling lightly on it, gently pinching it between her teeth, coaxing a sweet moan from your mouth.
You whimper, feeling yourself close to the edge from the mental image alone.
You throw your vibrator to the side, taking deep breaths, and forcing your eyes shut.
There is a creeping sense of shame in what you’re doing right now. Burying a vibrator in your cunt to the thought of someone you’ve never even properly introduced yourself to. A stranger that asks you to check their books in and out of a public library, and maybe you’ve seen them at a gym you go to, ran into them twice at random diners.
You don’t know Jacin, they don’t know you, and yet there’s an insatiable want to have them give you a mind numbing orgasm.
You want those tortured eyes on you, their rugged hands playing with your nipples, and you desperately want them fingering you until you wet the bed under you.
You let out a frustrated sigh and whimper, reaching for your vibrator again. You close your eyes.
Jacin’s hands grip your hair now, and she’s bringing your mouth down on her engorged clitoris.
At least, you imagine it that way. One time you saw them at the gym shirtless, with only binding tape covering their chest, and a line of pumped abs, with a dark happy trail leading down to their v-line. The ‘Y’ shaped scar ranging from her chest, down toward her torso had surprised you at first, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you want to fuck her even more.
In your mind, you’d suck on their sensitive, and engorged clit, crystalline tears forming in your eyes as you stare up at them. You want nothing more than to pleasure her, to make her feel good, have her rut herself wildly against your mouth.
Their wide hips would grind slowly against you at first, back and forth, with her abs flexing and relaxing with each move. She’d wince at the sensitivity of it all, at the slight sting of their bottom growth. Jacin would grunt and groan, keeping your face steady as their cunt rubbed itself up and down your mouth and chin, and you’d be thankful. You’d feel oh, so grateful that a jaded goddess such as she could use you in this way.
You whimper, feeling yourself close, but instead you shove your vibrator into you cunt, strategically keeping the little nub that touches your clit away from you. You groan at the feeling of the toy deep inside of you, easily dragging it in and out of your dripping cunt.
Jacin would be using their strap on you now, burying themselves deep in your cunt, keeping you locked on all fours. She’d cage you in, her thrusts deep and somewhat painful within you. You’d yelp and try formulating small string of words that she’d barely understand. You’d cry about how thankful you are, how happy you are that she’s ruining your cunt, and how much you’d longed for her to be inside you. She’d grip your ass in her rough hands and plant a firm slap on one of your cheeks, and her raspy voice would murmur something along the lines of ‘You look so sweet but you like it so nasty.’ And a breathy laugh would leave her lips, and your toes would curl as you whimper and draw out a pleading yes.
You can feel the pressure building up in your abdomen, the knot tightening in on itself before its inevitable release. You fully press your toy inside yourself, your wrist nearly cramping as you let out desperate sounds, and then you feel it. The familiar dripping, the sound of your own body relieving itself before your mind even has the time to process it.
Your mouth hangs open as you repeat their name over, and over again.
“Jacin, Jacin, fuck-- Ah!”
You can see Jacin in your head, hear their voice coaxing you into your orgasm, until you let out a loud yelp, feeling your abdomen contract and relax, as you finally reach your climax. Your hand keeps going and you try covering your mouth with your free hand, knowing the walls of your apartment are thin, and you can feel the bed under you begin to soak, the sound of water flowing from you filling the room. You shudder and take deep breaths, feeling yourself keel over, and something in your throat opens to release a small sob.
You wonder how Jacin would react to your crying. Would they be kind and reassuring? Would they laugh and call you a little babe?
You sulk silently as your trembling hand presses the button of your toy, shutting it off. You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, your chest falling and rising hastily. You hope you’ll meet them again, and you pray that maybe next time you’ll have the confidence to ask them out.
For now, your creative mind and your expert hands will have to do.
Unbeknownst to you, in the rooftops of Gotham, there’s a masked vigilante with a red helmet that goes on nightly patrols for the safety of the city. Jacin was making her usual rounds, and as they come upon the rooftop of a building, she suddenly hears the stifled cries of someone nearby. Jacin looks to the side, noticing the window of an apartment wide open with no curtains.
And then comes the shuddering cries and pleas of a sweet voice repeating their name.
“Jacin, Jacin, fuck,-- Ah!” ‘
Jacin feels their stomach do a cartwheel, moving closer to the ledge, and when she sees your figure, pressed against your mattress and a toy buried deep inside of your cunt, they can’t help but let out a small laugh.
Jacin knows who you are, you’re one of the librarians at the public library she often visits. They’ve thought about you from time to time, but nothing more than how kind you are, and certainly not nearly as graphically as you’re thinking about them right now.
But maybe that should change.
Jacin feels their own body respond to the scene playing out before them, the way your tits move as you shudder, how you let out a few tears from how overwhelmed the orgasm made you feel. It makes their cunt feel warm, beginning to get slick with wetness.
She takes a step back from the ledge, taking a deep breath and focusing on the task at hand. But she’ll turn this scenario over and over in their mind, and there's a small spark lighting in the back of their mind, waiting for the next time you meet.
She has you spread on her lap, each of your legs in her sides. With her own thighs she has you perfectly open, gripping you with one hand on your hips as three of her fingers stuff your swollen pussy.
Diana keeps curling them as you move your hips in circles, her free hand keeping your movements controlled. You are completely bare, your tits marked and bouncing, your cunt dripping her wrist. And she's completely dressed, some wet marks adorning her pants after you greedily rode her thigh.
“Easy, dove,” she purrs. “Look at you, dripping down my wrist like a needy kitten. Can’t even sit still, can you, sweetheart?”
Her thumb brushes your clit, a teasing flick that has you jolting. You are a gasping mess, arms braced around her shoulders, fingers curling in her shirt, craving more of her. The feeling of her fingers inside of you grows more and more overwhelming each time.
"Di—Diana, please," you blurt out, forehead pressed to her shoulder now as you try to grind harder.
But her grip on your hip doesn't allow you to move faster.
"Yes, angel?" she asks, with that velvet and sweet-mocking voice like she isn't knuckles deep inside of you.
"P-please, just—let me—nghhh!" you gasp, head lifting all of a sudden and back arching when her thumb flicks your clit a little faster.
“Such a pretty mess,” she coos, flexing her fingers deeper, stretching you open. “My beautiful girl, you are clenching so tight. You want more, baby? Want me to ruin this sweet cunt till you’re sobbing my name?”
You nod effortlessly, face red from the stimulation.
She hums, low and satisfied, like a cat that’s caught its favorite toy. “That’s it, angel. Let me see how desperate my sweet girl is.”
Her fingers crook harder, scissoring just enough to make your thighs tremble against her unmovable ones. Your arms tighten around her neck, nails digging into the fabric at her shoulders. You feel the flex of muscle beneath, Diana barely shifting, like you weigh nothing at all.
“Di—Diana, I—fuck, I’m—” The words spill out in broken gasps, your hips jerking helplessly in the cage of her grip. “Please, please, I can’t—”
“Can’t what, baby?” she murmurs. Her thumb circles your clit in tight, cruel strokes, matching the rhythm of her fingers curling inside you. “Can’t be my good girl and wait?”
You shake your head frantically, forehead slick against her collarbone. “N-no, I—gonna—”
“Go ahead, princess,” she whispers. “Soak my hand like the messy little thing you are.”
Your back bows so hard your tits press to her chest, nipples dragging over the fabric. A strangled cry rips from your throat, as you come undone, clenching around her fingers in pulsing waves. Your cunt gushes, slick running down her wrist, dripping onto the wet patch already darkening her thigh.
“Thaaat’s it,” she croons, riding you through it. “So pretty when you shatter.”
Alex was recording, which was well within his right, and was shielding other people from pepper spray. He was trying to help. You'll hear people blame him for having a gun, which he had a permit to carry and the only time it was out of the holster was when ICE took it before shooting him. You'll see people claim he shot at officers, but that is a blatant lie.
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