In which I write a little bit of filth each day for October about BG3 characters because why not? I’ll add links to this list every day as I post. These will be shorter than my average oneshots just so I can stay persistent. Every post will have its own warnings/tags so be sure to read those. These are all reader inserts. Also this is my first time writing for Kinktober so I can't guarantee that I'll finish all of this on time BUT I will finish it, even if it bleeds into November lol.
Also some of these ideas came from @mrfancyfoot ‘s BG3 Kinktober 2025 prompts. I wanted to do some of their prompts because they gave me such good ideas.
I hope you all enjoy! Happy reading, first post is on Oct. 1st (unless I cave and post the first one early)! Links will appear below the cut along with summaries of each day.
Oct 1st. mutual masturbation + tadpole link (Gale/Reader)
You and Gale masturbate at the same time in your respective tents. You accidentally connect your minds via the tadpole.
Oct 2. double penetration (Gale/Reader/Astarion)
You and your partner Astarion catch up with an old friend.
Oct 3. pegging (Rolan/Reader)
Taming a bratty wizard turns out to be more fun than you expected.
Oct 4. breeding (Halsin/Reader)
The Druid wants to claim you as his. You happily oblige.
Oct 5. praise (Wyll/Reader)
Wyll is feeling down about his new hellish appearance. You want to uplift his spirits.
Oct 6. hate sex (Wulbren Bongle/Reader)
You have nothing nice to say about Wulbren and he definitely has nothing nice to say about you. Alas, despite your shared hatred, the two of you fuck because if you don’t you might just kill each other.
Oct 7. monsterfucking (Yurgir/Reader)
With Raphael dead, his contract null and void, and his blood running as hot as ever, the orthon wants to celebrate with the one who brought him freedom.
Oct 8. bath sex (Haarlep/Reader)
The incubus likes to take care of you. They like to have fun. The location never really matters.
Oct 9. voyeurism (Sorn Orlith/Enver Gortash/The Dark Urge/Reader)
You and Sorn are hired for a night of your services by none other than Lord Enver Gortash and his Dragonborn companion. While his companion wants to join in, Gortash happily sits back and enjoys the show.
Oct 10. edging (Karlach/Reader)
Now that you can touch Karlach you give her something she has wanted for a while: prolonged pleasure.
Oct 11. Improper use of scrolls + genital swap (Astarion/Reader)
Gale gifts Astarion an entire box of scrolls. One day while going through them he finds a rather interesting one at the bottom of the pile. And now he’s proposing that you two use it.
Oct 12. thigh riding (Raphael/Reader)
Raphael doesn’t think you deserve to have him fully. He wants his little mouse to prove him wrong and maybe, just maybe, you’ll get something more.
Oct 13. first time (Dammon/Reader)
You run into a rather handsome tiefling refugee in the grove, a blacksmith named Dammon. At the party celebrating the victory against the goblins, you ask to celebrate with him.
Oct 14. sex pollen (Halsin/Reader)
There were thousands of species of mushrooms in the Underdark, lots of which you were unfamiliar with. The spores from one has seemingly gotten into your system and Halsin’s. The two of you ache for relief.
Oct 15. lingerie (Lorroakkan/Reader)
The Wizard of Sorcerous Sundries has a secret he’s keeping from you. One of the pink, lacy variety.
Oct 16. one night stand (Barcus Wroot/Reader)
“I’d kiss you, but neither of us deserve that.” But little did you know that deep down Barcus thinks you deserve more than that.
Oct 17. tentacles (Omeluum/Reader)
Omeluum comes to you with a peculiar request. You decide to humor it.
Oct 18. quiet sex (Astarion/Reader)
Astarion hasn’t felt this drawn to someone in centuries. When he comes to your tent to feed the two of you indulge in your desires, as quietly as possible.
Oct 19. dry humping (Minsc/Reader)
You find yourself seducing the Stone Lord who is surprisingly shyer than you imagined when it comes to this type of thing.
Oct 20. mating cycles (Zevlor/Reader/Halsin)
You and Halsin give Zevlor some release during his mating cycle.
Oct 21. Improper use of potions + size difference (Gale/Reader)
Gale drinks a mislabeled potion that turns out to be elixir of the colossus. You have a devious idea while he waits for the effects to wear off.
Oct 22. blood kink/menstration (Astarion/Reader)
Astarion can’t stand to see you in pain. What he can stand is the sight of blood…and the taste of it. Why not kill two birds with one stone?
Oct 23. aftercare (Abdirak/Reader)
After a brutal penance, Abdirak takes care of you in more than one way.
Oct 24. sleepy sex (Shadowheart/Reader)
Shadowheart crawls into your tent early in the morning. The two of you enjoy each other as the sun rises.
Oct 25. only one bed (Kith’rak Voss/Reader)
You and the githyanki knight share a bed at Sharess’ Caress. The two of you are beyond stressed and tired. Maybe sharing a bed won’t be too bad.
Oct 26. gags + restraints (Rolan/Reader)
Rolan has a knack for running his mouth. You plan to stop him.
Oct 27. facesitting (Minsc/Reader)
When blood runs hot you find your body being guided to the face of one enthusiastic Stone Lord.
Oct 28. caught in the act (Zevlor/Reader/Halsin)
Zevlor accidentally interrupts you and Halsin. He isn’t prepared for your suggestion that he joins in.
Oct 29. touch starved (Haarlep/Reader/Raphael)
Haarlep and Raphael have purposely not touched you in weeks. Now they toy with you.
Oct 30. Begging (Wyll/Reader)
You never imagined the Blade of Frontiers as the type to beg, but now he’s begging for you to touch him.
Oct 31. Orgy (Astarion/Gale/Halsin/Rolan/Zevlor/Reader)
Soft dom!reader x Barcus Wroot. Size difference, size kink. Very soft. Reader has a pussy but no gendered pronouns used. Mentions of alcohol (mead because all the drinks in BG3 sounded nasty or expensive when I read their descriptions) NSFW. MDNI.
It never occurred to Barcus that he would fall for someone who wasn’t a deep gnome, but that was before he met you. It wasn’t exactly love at first sight, no, more like vague distrust and a general sense of unease, that the only reason you were being kind to him was to make your sudden and inevitable betrayal sting just that little extra.
But you didn’t betray him. Quite the opposite.
You became a good acquaintance, then a friend, then something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.
You were his sanctuary, when the ironhands were demanding answers he couldn’t give, when he felt like an inadequate leader, and when he had half a mind to track down Wulbren and admit he wasn’t cut out for the job. You were there. A confidant, and so, so dear to him.
You weren’t ashamed to be seen with him, sitting beside him on the balcony of your townhouse amongst the rubble of Baldur’s Gate. The little get-togethers he so looked forward to were always arranged after sundown, when the light didn’t hurt his eyes. And how cozy you made him feel, a warm blanket beside him should he need it, delicious food and drink, a footrest placed before the bench so his legs didn’t dangle mid-air and cause his lower back to ache.
You spoke to him as an equal, which shouldn’t have been extraordinary, but it was.
You were extraordinary.
“You’re so very good to me,” he told you on a night sweetened by blackberry mead and lit by distant starlight.
“Well, you mean a lot to me,” you replied, so matter-of-factly it brought tears to his eyes. You couldn’t know how remarkable that was. “I cherish our time together.”
“Oh…” His lip trembled, voice wavering, the sheer weight of being liked apparently more than his small self could handle.
He tried to focus on the familiar, the sight of your face, the sound of your voice. And it struck him suddenly just how beautiful you were. Not just beautiful for a human; beautiful like the stars, like the sweetness of the mead on his tongue, like the scent of the honeysuckle overtaking the balcony. You were beautiful and you meant everything to him.
He loved you.
Without realizing, he had fallen completely and hopelessly in love, and the thought of someone else realizing how beautiful you were and finding the courage to make you theirs before he did… Well, he simply couldn’t let that happen.
Nor did he have the courage to outright speak his mind.
“Thank you for another pleasant evening,” he said, watching the fragments of quartz in the stone of your balcony glitter beneath the faint celestial glow. “Spending time with you always puts things in perspective. You’re a good friend.”
When he looked up you were a smidgen closer than before, and visibly flustered.
If he didn’t know better he’d think you’d leaned in to kiss him and lost your nerve. But no, it couldn’t be that; surely it was just a trick of the light.
“Ah- are you well, friend?” he asked, the words barely pulling themself free from the tangle in his throat.
His question hung in the air between you, sounding a little foolish now that he had spoken it aloud. He hadn’t meant to call you out, but why else would he ask it?
“I don’t think I am,” you said, setting down your empty cup and turning to face him. “Barcus… I…”
In the darkness his eyes must have appeared black to you, but he could see every shade glittering in yours. And within them there was an unmistakable want that made his stomach flop.
“Oh, me neither,” he said. “I fear I want to do something rather foolish.”
You smiled, a gentle laugh of agreement alleviating some of the weight of the night. You were never, ever unkind to him. The thought that you were laughing at him was never once brought into question in his mind. You weren’t like that. You were rarer than diamonds and far far more precious.
“I’m thinking about kissing you,” he admitted, fidgeting with the ornamental handle of his cup. “I’m thinking about asking you to marry me and be mine forever. Or… not marry me and still be mine forever. The marrying part is neither here nor there honestly. It’s the ‘mine’ part that matters, because I want to be yours.”
He didn’t dare look up at you but he felt the shift in the air right before your lips grazed, soft and warm against his cheek, close— agonizingly so— to the corner of his lips.
And he felt that kiss in every cell of his body. Heat flooded like a tidal wave down his throat, through his chest and his belly, and down, down. Pooling and tingling between his thighs in such an agonizing, delicious way he couldn’t stifle the frankly pitiful sound that escaped his lips. A moan perhaps, or more like a whimper.
But you didn’t seem to mind at all. No, in fact, it seemed to encourage you. He turned into your next kiss, cradling your face between his hands and muffling the sounds he quickly learned he was incapable of stopping.
Your kisses were everything; overwhelming and lovely, sweet and sticky from the mead. And gods, you were so big.
He’d known that all along, of course, you were his human friend whom he had to crane his neck to speak to, but with you pressed so close the difference between you was breathtaking. And he couldn’t get enough of it.
He was helpless, should you choose to make him so, and that thought was titillating beyond belief. The thought of being pinned down by you, being crushed, breathless and completely powerless shouldn’t have been as exciting as it was, but within seconds he was so hard he was lightheaded. That had never happened before.
Before he knew it he was on his knees, pursuing your kisses with passion he hardly knew he was capable of. And you had your arms around him, completely surrounding him.
“Am I crushing you?” you asked, your words carried on breaths that tickled his lips.
“Mm… I wish you would,” he said before he could stop himself.
And praise every god there was that his comment, fueled by a potent concoction of lust and mead, didn’t deter you in the slightest. Quite the opposite in fact.
“Oh?” you whispered, the flirtation and giddiness in your voice enough to make his toes curl inside his shoes. “You’d like that?”
“Very- very much…”
It wasn’t uncommon for the city streets to become a maze of hedonism once the sun went down, but for once Barcus found himself caught up in it, pressed back against the stone edge of your balcony bench, smothered by the warmth and weight of your body. The overgrown honeysuckle provided coverage from the main street, yet it felt so utterly salacious as you kissed him with such passion that his legs trembled beneath you.
“Do you want to go inside?” you asked, and he found himself nodding rapidly. Inside, into the warmth and softness of your bed, to be held and kissed and adored. Oh, how he wanted you.
You were the first to make him feel like he mattered like that. With you he felt small, yes, but never lesser.
Your lips adoringly caressed every curve of his body as you undressed him, ushering away his perceived inadequacies. It hadn’t occurred to him that you’d find him just as lovely as he found you, but you did, evidently. You kissed every tingling inch of him like he was the most beautiful, delectable thing you’d ever encountered. And then you sat astride him and undressed.
If he thought you were beautiful before it was nothing compared to how he felt when he saw you bare. Divine, perhaps, though that pretty word hardly did justice to the sheer awe and reverence overcoming him.
“Please be mine,” he begged. “Make me yours.”
A sentiment he repeated over and over as you claimed him. The sensation of you enveloping his cock– soft and wet and hot, and certainly more blissfully snug than he'd imagined– felt so good he couldn't stop his legs from trembling.
Barcus screwed his eyes tight, afraid that even a single glance would spell the end of it. Oh, you were so beautiful.
“Barcus?” you asked, a gentle hand against his cheek.
“I'm fi-hine,” he said, trying his best to maintain his composure.
“Am I hurting you?”
“Don't be silly.”
“Ah,” you said. You understood. He was on the precipice of pleasure after a few seconds. And then your wicked streak came out as you said, “Open your eyes, I want you to watch. And I know you’re not going to come just yet. I know you can hold off for me.”
And of course he did as you told him.
Brow furrowed in determination, he watched his cock disappear again and again into your perfect cunt, feeling smaller and more willingly helpless than he ever had in his life. Every thrust drew the air from his lungs, and every pause allowed him to refill them. You had him so wet, so hard and swollen he barely recognized his own body.
“Oh gods, you feel perfect,” he gasped, hands gripping the edge of the bed. Sweat trickled from his temples as he fought off the urge to release. “Thank you. Thank you… thank you so much.”
He felt you come undone, throbbing, pulsing on top of him, a flood of heat enveloping him as you collapsed from the intensity, pressing him down into the mattress. Your body snuffed out all light in the room, your scent and your touch was the only thing he knew, your lips glancing against his, breathing his breath, swallowing his desperate cries.
“Please…” he heard himself cry, though he was so far gone he had no idea what he’d do if you said no. Fail, he supposed. Come unbidden and take whatever penalty you deemed acceptable.
“Please what, Barcus?”
“Let me… let me come… please…” It was already too late. He felt that first throb of release, and no amount of thigh clenching or toe spreading could stop it now.
You chuckled drawing back to watch him fall apart. “Yes, sweet thing, you can come now,” you said, and the world tilted on its axis.
Of course he’d orgasmed before; alone more often than not, but with you it was different, far, far more intense. The sounds that tore from his throat sounded like they came from a much larger man, at least to his ears. He cried out as he came undone, his entire body ablaze with pleasure. And you kissed him, again and again; his lips, his throat, his racing pulse and juddering belly.
And afterwards, when the throbs of ecstasy and breathless words of praise had all but faded, you held him. You tucked him close to your body, lips resting against the crown of his head, and he felt you smile.
Whatever he had done to deserve such comfort and warmth, he wasn’t quite sure. But he knew better than to question it. You were his, and that really was all that mattered.
KINKTOBER DAY 16 - ONE NIGHT STAND (Barcus Wroot/Reader)
Summary: "I'd kiss you, but neither of us deserve that." But little did you know that deep down Barcus thinks you deserve more than that.
Author’s Note: Another short one because life is kicking my ass right now. Also that quote above isn’t actually in this, I honestly completely forgot to incorporate it. BUT the vibes are still there. I hope you all enjoy!
Warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, gender neutral reader, ambiguous genitalia, no gendered pronouns for reader, one night stand, missionary sex, Barcus is a sweetheart, not beta read
Barcus Wroot was more of a pleasure to be around than you previously expected. During your travels, you hadn’t expected to run into him and save him more than once. Although you didn’t like that he seemed to keep finding trouble, you felt yourself enjoying his company when he wasn’t being a damsel in distress or overly snippy.
He wandered into camp late one afternoon, finally stepping out of his own little corner of the Late Night Inn. The Shadow Curse was finally lifted, Ketheric Thorm was dead, and you and your companions would be heading for Baldur’s Gate in a couple of days.
You smile at him as he approaches your tent. You sit in front of it on the ground, sharpening a dagger.
“Hi, Barcus. To what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask.
“May I join you?” he asks.
“Of course.” You pat the empty spot on the ground next to you and he sits down. You tuck your dagger away, satisfied with how sharp it is.
“I’ve come to thank you,” he says.
“For what? You’ve thanked me plenty,” you say.
It was true. At this point, Barcus was constantly thanking you for something.
“I haven’t,” he says, “I…umm…I feel like I haven’t been as appreciative towards you as I probably should be. You have gone out of your way to save me twice and now you’ve saved Wulbren. You deserve more than a thank you and a smokepowder bomb for all you’ve done.”
“Barcus, it’s fine. I would never ask more of you. I saved you because it was the right thing to do. Not because I want a reward. If you’re about to shove coin in my face, please don’t. I appreciate the sentiment but I don’t need it,” you state.
He shakes his head, a small smile spreading across his lips as he does so.
“I’m not talking about coin,” he says.
“Then what are you talking about?” you ask.
He’s silent for a moment, a look of nervousness forming on his face.
“Well, umm…I thought maybe I could show you my gratitude in a more…physical way,” he says.
“Are you suggesting that we have sex?” you question.
“I understand if you think the idea is stupid or—“
He begins to ramble, but you cut him off, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.
“Barcus, I like the idea,” you say.
“Really?” He looks at you surprised.
“When everyone goes to sleep we’ll find somewhere to go,” you say.
“I have a room in the inn actually, if it’ll do?” he asks.
“Sounds perfect.”
He smiles in response and his hand moves towards your own, placing his palm over the back of your hand. The two of you sit together, quietly talking amongst yourselves until everyone retires to their collective tents. When the bustle of camp and the inn in the distance finally quiets down, you stand and take Barcus by the hand.
He leads you to the inn. It appears that everyone has gone to bed, besides a couple of straggling Harpers outside who were keeping watch. No one notices the two of you as you make your way upstairs to an empty bedroom.
“Here we are. A little privacy,” Barcus says as he shuts the door, locking it for good measure.
You waste no time kicking off your shoes and crawling into the bed in the center of the room. You beckon him with your finger and he joins you, kneeling in front of you on the bed. He’s nervous, you can sense it. You reach for his hand, holding it in your own.
“Are you sure about this?” you question.
“Oh, most definitely. It’s just been a while,” he says. He takes your hand and places a soft kiss on your knuckles before leaning in, kissing your lips.
The kiss is soft and slow. You kiss him back, pulling his body into yours. A small whimper comes from him as he kisses you deeper, occasionally letting his tongue slip between your lips.
Both of you pant as you pull away for air. The moment is brief because Barcus is quickly back on you, pushing you down on the bed as he crawls on you. He kisses your lips again before leaving little pecks all over your face. You giggle as he kisses your nose.
“How long have you had this idea, Barcus?” you ask, curious.
“It crossed my mind after you freed me from the Duergar. Immediately after, actually. Seeing you stick up for us gnomes, fighting for us…you were truly mesmerizing. You are mesmerizing,” he says as he unbuttons your shirt, revealing what’s underneath. His hands drift over your skin, feeling you, and then move to your pants. You help him, pulling them off and tossing them on the floor along with your underwear.
“My gods,” he breathes as he looks over you.
Any restraint Barcus had was quickly thrown out the window. He lowered his body onto the bed, quickly putting his head between your legs so he could taste you. He licked and sucked, letting his mouth explore you all while listening to you whine and moan. He pleasures you with such precision and care that you start to doubt his earlier statement about being out of practice.
Your body trembles when you cum, hips lifting off the bed as your orgasm washes over you. Barcus pulls his cock out of his trousers before you fully come down.
As he slowly pushes into you, you lift up his shirt and toss it. Your hands brush over the skin of his chest as you pull him in closer. He groans as he sinks into you and you hum with content when he’s fully inside. You kiss him as he thrusts into you, keeping him against your body.
His cock moves in and out of you at a steady pace. There’s not a moment where he’s remotely rough. He’s tender, holding onto you with such softness that it makes you melt a little.
“You’re so good. You feel so good,” he says.
You moan as he adjusts his angle, hitting just the right spot. It makes you roll your hips, pressing into his hips as his pace quickens.
“Gods, just like that, Barcus,” you say.
The sound of your voice spurs him on. He fucks you more vigorously, driving into the sweet spot inside you over and over again.
You cum without warning, whimpering as your second climax hits you. He fucks you through it, moaning your name as he reaches his own orgasm. He pulls out just in time, cumming against your abdomen.
He says a quick prestidigitation spell, whisking away any mess with a simple swirl of magic. He then lays down beside you, smiling as he does so.
“I must admit, that was a pretty good reward,” you chuckle, turning your head to look at him.
“I’m glad you enjoyed. I did as well. I don’t normally do this sort of thing so I apologize if I was…inadequate in any way. One-time encounters aren’t my specialty,” he rambles.
“Oh, stop that. You were perfect, Barcus,” you say, cuddling up next to him.
“I’ll take your word for it,” he says, almost laughing.
The two of you fall asleep next to each other, holding each other. It may have been for only one night but in that moment it was everything you wanted.
Barcus Wroot x dom!reader (Reader wears a strap-on but no anatomy or gendered pronouns are used.)
Content: NSFW. Anal fingering, pegging, slight delayed orgasm (his), size difference, and lots of fluff. Approx 1.6k words of sweet sweet Barcus lovin'. This is for me and @vampcubus and any other real ones (Barcus kissers) out there.
Strapped
“Surely that can’t be… what it looks like,” Barcus sighs, pointedly looking away before glancing back at the wooden dildo and its oxblood leather straps in your hands.
“It is.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it's too big. It'll never fit.”
The two of you are alone in your tent, as you so often are these days. It's an unconventional domesticity, but it looks good on him. Or rather, being adored and wanted and appreciated the way you do looks good on him. He's never had that before.
Curled up beneath the covers, Barcus has made himself very comfortable in your temporary abode, using an easel to prop up the thick, human-sized book he's reading.
He has no need for a light to allow him to see the words, but he keeps one lit for your benefit. And thank goodness for that flickering light, which allows you to see the curves of his bare chest and the sparse curls of hair adorning it. His shoulders are broad for a gnome of his stature, his belly recently a little softer than before he discovered the pleasures of being loved and content.
He lets the sheets pool around his hips, knowing you enjoy the sight of him.
And despite his frown, you could swear you see a twinkle of curiosity in his eyes as they focus once more on the toy in your hands. Perhaps even longing.
“I could have Halsin whittle it down?” you suggest, “Or maybe Gale knows a shrinking spell–”
“You will not!” he practically shrieks at the suggestion. “Your traveling companions don't need to know about it. At all. Where did you even get it?”
“They were selling them at Sharess’ Caress,” you say, lowering yourself onto the bedroll beside him and placing the strap-on on the sheets beside him. “It’s the smallest one they had. It comes with oil to make it easier.”
Barcus sniffs dismissively, the corner of his mouth lifting into an amused half-smile. “I can’t believe you just went in there and bought it. You’re so much braver than I am.”
“It’s Sharess’ Caress,” you say with a laugh, “They barely batted an eye.”
The gnome stares at it, and then at you, chewing his lip. “Promise me you'll be gentle.”
“Of course, Barcus, I'd never hurt you.”
At that his expression softens, those sweet, soulful eyes filled with nothing but the most ardent affection. “No, you wouldn't, would you. I may get struck down for this, but there are times I find myself wondering if you are in fact some kind of divine being.” He ponders it for a moment before chuckling to himself. “Well, it's silly, but it's the only explanation I've been able to come up with for how you make me feel.”
You would ride to war for this sweet man. Hells, you have; against goblins, duergar, drow… it's only thanks to Barcus’ kind heart that Wulbren fucking Bongle isn't currently floating down the Chionthar with your boot print permanently branded into his backside.
“Let me make you feel good,” you say, your lips just a fraction from his.
“You always do. You know you can always do whatever you want to me. I'm yours.”
The space between you melts away with the brush of your lips against his. Barcus moans softly when you kiss him. It doesn't matter how many times you do, how many nights you've spent together, he reacts to every kiss like it's the first.
He feels so small in your arms, so precious, though he'd fuss at you for saying so. But he loves it too, the differences between you, the fact that there's just so much of you, that he can lose himself in you. He never knew– or perhaps never allowed himself to admit– how much he needed to be held before he met you. And now he finds himself surrounded and safe, and loved. So very loved.
You make fast work of his breeches, tugging them down over his firm thighs and unravelling the knots in the linen cloth secured at his hips, freeing his pretty little cock. Gone are the days he was shy about his body; he knows how much you want him, and little by little he’s coming to terms with the fact that he’s more than enough for you. He’s everything.
He’s barely even shy as he climbs onto your lap, turns around and bends over, presenting his ass to you. His hole flutters beneath your touch as you circle your oiled fingertip over the puckered skin, easing him into the sensation and relishing the hitches of his breath and the way he whimpers your name into your thighs.
“Is that good, my love?” you ask, despite already knowing the answer. His cock is already drooling onto your stomach.
“I- I’m… I’m lightheaded,” he stammers. “How can it feel so good?”
“Because it’s us.”
Breathless, he chuckles at that before melting completely into your touch.
It only takes the tip of your pinky finger to make him moan— a stuttered cry from the depths of his throat, a mixture of shock, pleasure, and perhaps just a little discomfort. So you take it slow, easing into his tight ring of muscle, massaging the oil into his flesh until he’s backing onto your touch. He takes your pinky all the way to the knuckle, then the next, crying in ecstasy as you stroke his prostate and trying to muffle the sound against the seam of your thighs.
“More,” he begs, “I’m ready for it.”
He’s more than ready. He’s desperate.
His quick and dexterous hands assist you in buckling the leather straps to your hips, trembling in his eagerness to explore this new thing with you. His earlier reservations are completely forgotten, as they always are, as he climbs on top of you, groaning with the strain of stretching his thighs wide enough to straddle your hips.
Working together, you bundle the blankets beneath his feet, allowing him to support himself a little better. And Gods, with him sat up there you can see just how huge the dildo looks when compared to him, jutting out from his thighs and reaching way past his navel.
“Are you sure?” you ask, your hands rubbing his thighs, palms fully covering them, massaging away some of the ache.
“I can do it,” he says, with steely determination. “I want to be good for you. I love you.”
And with that he takes the vial of oil and drizzles it over the head of the dildo, before using both hands to spread the slick. Even just the sight of him like that is enough to make you wet for him. Breathless, excited, sweat beading down his temples. He looks to you for approval as he finally takes your strap, his mouth falling slack into a silent cry of pleasure.
“That’s it,” you tell him, propping yourself up to watch the tip of dildo disappear into his ass. He can’t take the whole thing, not yet, but you encourage him nevertheless. “Look at you, taking it so well.”
He can hardly breathe, let alone speak, the broken syllables of your name tripping from the end of his tongue.
He braces his hands on your lower belly as he rides you, his little cock bouncing and dripping along with his thrusts. And he yelps so sweetly when you wrap your hand around it, letting him fuck the tunnel of your fist, doubling his pleasure.
“I- I’m not going to last long if you do that,” he says, screwing his eyes tight. “Feels too guh-hood.”
“Just a little longer,” you tell him. He looks far too lovely like this to let it end too soon.
Nodding rapidly, you can practically see him gathering his resolve, his lips pressing to a thin line to hold back his moans, as if that will be any help at all.
But his cock throbs against your palm, slick and hot and desperate for release. He pulls in a long, shivering breath, the sinews in his neck tight as he tries not to cum. And beneath the plush of his belly his abdominal muscles clench. He’s close. Painfully close. “Please?”
“Soon. You’re doing so well.”
“Mh… alright… ah- anything for you…”
And he means it too. If you asked him to delay his release for hours you’d get no argument from him. He’d absolutely fail, of course, but he’d give it his all.
He whines so pitifully when you sit up to kiss him, shivering as you caress the pointed tips of his ears and tell him, “I love you so much.”
No sooner have the words left your lips than he’s cumming, his spend splashing across your belly while he shudders through his orgasm.
He admitted to you once that before you, he’d only experienced a handful or climaxes throughout his life, and all of them when he was much younger. Oh, they felt good, he said, but they left him feeling hollow and alone afterward. But with you, it’s a different story. He clings to you as the pleasure subsides, nuzzling your stomach, his hands curling at your hips while he catches his breath.
“May I pleasure you next?” he asks, tilting his face just enough that you can see the candlelight glint in the dark of his eyes. He doesn’t need to say what he’d like to do; you know all too well how much he adores pleasing you with his tongue.
“In a little while. Rest first. You’ve earned it.”
And he smiles as you gently scratch his scalp with your fingernails, goosebumps rising on his skin.
“You treat me far too well, you know,” he says.
“I only treat you as well as you deserve.”
It’s still a little hard for him to fathom. But he’s getting there.
