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A place for every smutty thing I'm less eager to share with my professional portfolio.
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MASTERLIST
KINKTOBER DAY 3 | ADRIAN CHASE (PEACEMAKER) | 2 FOR 1 SPECIAL
Day 3: Threesome | Nipple Clamps | Alien Abduction
Warnings: Threesome. P in V Sex. Oral.
Summary: Here's the thing. You really couldn't give me two Adrians in one scene and tell me I wasn't gonna do this.
Disclaimer: I actually haven't seen Season 2. I'm working purely off that one scene, so as a result it will likely be trash. Happy Kinktober.
"Oh my gosh, my house looks almost exactly the same! Soooo coool!"
"Dude," you say lowly, standing outside Adrian's not-house. "We shouldn't be here."
You watch warily as he chuckles, elated, your words flying right over his head.
"What?" he gasps excitedly, pointing at lawn decor. "Who are you guys?"
"Adrian," You snap, to no avail.
"You're a chipmunk in my world," he cracks up at another piece of decor, and struts right into the house.
You sigh, following him into the house reluctantly. "This is fine," you mutter. "Alternate reality. We could totally do no harm here whatsoever."
"Oh my god, what the fuck is this," he cracks up harder. "Dude. Look. Look! Cheeri-ohs!!! They spell it just a little differently! I'm keepin' this shit."
"Put it down," you hiss, but he doesn't listen.
"My dad's not gay here!" Laughing even harder, Adrian keeps moving forward, and you're resigned to follow, equal parts annoyed and amused.
You watch as he attempts to unlock the door the his doppelgangers workshop, and to both of your surprise, each of the 3 keys he tries fits perfectly in the lock.
"No fuckin' way," you mutter.
"Dude," he looks at you, and you know he's thrilled behind that red visor. "Unbelievable!"
Slowly, we enter, and you freeze noticing…his doppelganger. Working at a table.
"Uh," your Adrian starts. "Hello?"
"What the fuck" the other Adrian spins around, immediately pulling a gun on you both.
You stare at him, stunned. He's a perfect doppelganger, right down to the same sexy stupid glasses.
Your Adrian just laughs and jumps, excited, still holding the damned cereal box.
"Who are you, and why are you here?" The doppelganger asks coldly, looking at him. He turns to you, confused. "Why did you bring someone here, baby?"
"He has a you too!" Your Adrian almost shrieks, ecstatic. "Oh my god! Dude, hold on. Hold on, hold on. Dude. Dude." He rips off his mask, and you almost smile at how giddy he is. "It's me! I'm you from another dimension! My keys worked to get in here!!"
The other Adrian freezes a moment, before grinning widely. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" He puts his gun away.
You let out a sigh in relief, collapsing on the couch, as the pair gush over the uncanniness of the situation.
Time passes as the two gush, cackling in elation over all of the similarities. Memes. Pokemon. Textures. You find yourself smiling fondly between them, endeared by your boyfriend bonding so well with…himself. Self love at it's finest, maybe?
"So," the other Adrian turns to you excitedly. "You two are together in your dimension too? That's like, so amazing" he grins widely. "It's like we'll always find each other."
"That's…sickeningly sweet," You smile gently, tapping your Adrian's foot with your own. "So, where am I in this world?"
"Oh, you're not talking to me right now," doppel-Adrian answers, still smiling that stupid smile. "I got hurt bad on a job and you're mad now."
Your Adrian bursts out laughing. "Sounds about right! She worries so much, dude."
"So cute," other Adrian teases you, and his eyes light up excitedly. "Oh my god, dude, is yours a fucking freak too?"
"Oh my god," you say loudly, getting off the couch and stepping a few paces away, turning to look at them, embarrassed.
Your Adrian doesn't pick up on your discomfort though, lighting up as much as the other one. "Totally dude! Yo, when she first found out I was Vigilante, you want to know what she did?"
"Asked you to chase her through the woods like she's a target and fuck her against a tree?!" They both answer excitedly, cackling at the unison.
You blush wildly, mortified.
But there's a hint of something else.
Interest.
You look between the two Adrians. Complete carbon copies of each other, both in love with you - well, a version of you, anyway.
"Whatcha thinking, baby?" Your Adrian grins.
The other one looks at you. "Oh yeah! She has the same thinky face," he points a finger at you, laughing.
You just tilt your head, pondering logistics, pondering consequences, pondering ethics.
Both Adrians say your name questioningly.
"I mean," you say, not really knowing when to start. "I'm just wondering what the ethics are behind a threesome with your boyfriend and his doppelganger from another dimension."
Both sit back a second, stunned, before looking at each other.
"Adrian?" You ask softly.
A wide grin splits their faces in unison, and they…
High five?
"Dude!" Your Adrian laughs.
"Uh, yeah," Doppelganger Adrian laughs with him.
They both turn to you.
"So, yes?" You ask, confused by their responses.
"Uh, is our favorite color teal?" Your Adrian responds excitedly, bouncing up and pulling you into a deep kiss, passionate despite his earlier levity. "Why would I pass up a chance to bond with myself like that? And you?"
"It's not really cheating on you if it's with you, right?" The doppelganger asks, standing up too, and coming up behind you to kiss your neck. "There's gotta be a pass for that."
"Dudes, I have an idea," your Adrian breaks your kiss suddenly, eyes wide with excitement. "We should strip and see if you can tell the difference between us!"
Other Adrian laughs loudly. "Uh, yeah we should!"
You chuckle despite yourself. He would always be Adrian, you suppose.
"Alright boys," you step back and turn away to face the workbench. "Strip and sit on the couch."
You remove your clothes slowly while you hear them fumble with the straps of the Vigilante suit. A small grin crosses you as your Adrian cusses - it's been a while since he's removed it without your help.
You stand there patiently, arms crossed under your breasts as the chill of the basement begins to seep into your skin, staved off only by the anticipation building in you at this…experience.
"Okay" They both say in unison. "We're good."
You turn slowly, and find yourself staring at…two identical Adrians. Both sitting naked, glasses off, with their legs spread on the couch, cocks standing half hard.
"Looks the same from here," you say, playing their game.
"Then come closer," the one on the left says, holding out his hand.
You walk slowly towards him, and sit on his lap. "Can I kiss you?"
"C'mere," he pulls you in deeply, kissing you in that all too familiar Adrian way - sweet, rough, passionate, somehow all in one.
"Hmm…" you hum against his lips. "More research is needed here." You stand up and perch on the second Adrian's lap.
He grins and pulls you into the kiss. Sweet. Rough. Passionate.
Fuck. This would be harder than you thought.
He tangles a hand in your hair and pulls you back. "What do you think, baby?" He murmurs against your lips. "Can you pick us apart?"
You look between them, almost ashamed you can't tell which is YOUR Adrian. You shake your head slowly.
They both chuckle in unison, both of their voices dropping in tone just a touch. "Guess you'll have to keep going then."
The Adrian you're sitting on pulls you into another kiss, this one deeper than the last. His breath is beginning to fan hotly over your face between kisses, and you find yourself getting lost in him as you have so many times before.
"Adrian," you whisper softly.
"Yes?" They both answer, mischief in their tones.
"What's the matter, baby," the one kissing you asks. "What can we give you?"
"You really can't tell, honey?" the other one taunts. "We'll just have to let you keep exploring. Come here."
You stand up, surprised at how easily the other one lets you go, surprised at how easily they share you.
Moving towards the Adrian on the left, you lean down to kiss him.
Instead, he grabs your head and holds you there. "You should suck our cocks, baby," he whispers, in that teasing tone that he knows drives you fucking insane. "See if you can tell them apart."
The other one laughs loudly. "Fantastic idea man."
You kneel between his legs and immediately get to work, taking him in your hand and examining it.
Glancing upward, holding eye contact with those perfect emerald eyes, you take him slowly in his mouth.
Normally when you take things slow, it's to torment Adrian. To tease him, to get him begging, to see tears in those emerald eyes.
But this time, it's to really taste. To feel every ridge, curve, and vein. To see if there is any physical difference between your Adrian and the doppelganger.
So far, you realize with dismay, you can't tell. He moans like your Adrian. He tosses his head back, with that one vein protruding, like your Adrian. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pushes you down just so, just like your Adrian.
You pull off him with a pop, and move over to the other one.
"I can't tell yet," you say, immediately taking the other Adrian down your throat.
Still, he moans the exact same way. Thrusts up into your throat the exact same way. Legs twitch and abs flex in the exact same way.
You go back and forth on them for a while, noting every detail. But despite this, despite their increased pants and the wetness growing between your thighs, you focus on your determination.
And you fail.
You cannot tell them apart.
You sit back on your knees with a huff. Irritated. Aroused.
"She can't do it," the Adrian on the right realizes, smiling that crazy smile that always foretells something insane approaching.
"She really can't." The other Adrian on the right mirrors the smile, grabbing your jaw in his hands.
"Only one thing to do."
"Dude. Hell yeah."
The Adrian on the right stands up, situating himself behind you, lining his cock up with your entrance.
"You lose," the one still sitting, holding your jaw, looks down on you. "Now, we get to play."
Perfectly in sync, one Adrian breaches your entrance, sinking in fully, while the other one shoves your head back down on him, tangling his fingers in your hair roughly.
You moan, head swimming in simultaneous annoyance and pleasure.
"Look at that," the one behind you chuckles. "Literally getting a two for one special."
"Double the Adrian, double the fun," the other one jokes.
"Dude, nice."
And then, the audacity, they fucking high five above you.
In any other situation you'd snap, tell him off. But on all fours, taking your boyfriend's cock in two holes at once, you just can't find it in yourself to care.
It's perfectly synced, in the way that it isn't at all. Adrian was never one to keep a tempo. He'd speed up, slow down, stop altogether to make jokes, in the perfect chaotic mixture that only he could have.
But together, these two are perfectly in sync. You're dragged back on one cock just to be pushed forward on another. They speed up together, tease you together, and by the time their groans start to escalate, your whines are drowning them both out.
"Look at you, baby," The one you're sucking off finally says. "Can't even tell that's not your boyfriend fucking you right now."
You look up at him instantly - your Adrian, your green eyes - and whimper, tears welling in your throat.
"Don't worry, baby," the one behind you leans forward to whisper in your ear. "I couldn't tell you apart from mine either."
"Yeah, I'm not mad, honey," your Adrian draws in your attention again. "You just need to cum for us now, okay?"
"C'mon," the other Adrian slaps your ass hard, in tandem with your Adrian pulling your hair just right -
You shatter, moaning around your boyfriend's dick loudly as you soak his doppelgangers. Your pleasure drags them both right down with you, as it so often does, with them filling your mouth and pussy in perfect sync.
The room still as the three of you pant, and your Adrian pulls you up on the couch, kissing your cheek. An easy silence falls over the room as you all recover.
The same in every way, you muse, utterly fascinated as you catch your breath.
"Dude," your Adrian asks, slipping his glasses back on his face. "Is your best friend Peacemaker?"
Going to come back and edit this one, but my eyes will no longer stay open.
Day 2: Coming Untouched | Age Play | Kidnapping
Warnings: Age Play, Significant Age Gap, P in V Sex. Dub Con/Power Play
Summary: A young lounge singer catches the eye of the most powerful man in Zaun.
It didn’t surprise you, the chaos that emerged from it. The Undercity’s top dog had changed, after all, and Silco was a very different man from Vander. Businesses shifted; power changed from hand-to-hand like candy between children. Those high up fell, and those underneath rose from the ashes.
You intended to be one of those that benefit from the madness.
And so, a short period of time after Vander had fallen, and Silco had taken over The Last Drop, you found yourself preparing for your first night of work there.
Jobs weren’t always difficult to come by in the Undercity – at least, not if you had loose morals. You had never worked at a brothel, a job with consistent vacancies in your neighborhood, but you had held on to numerous other occupations. Thievery, bartending, spying. Eventually, it all became enough for you to afford living in a small, run-down flat on your own, a luxury in this part of town.
Still, you wanted more.
You wanted to climb up the ladder in the Undercity, in hopes of one day making it all the way up to Piltover and beyond.
And in the upheaval, doors open and close at the turn of a dime.
That’s how you found yourself, downing a shot in the back of The Last Drop in an attempt to calm your nerves.
Singing.
You had never sung before, at least, not on a stage professionally. Yet the word had gone around that The Last Drop was looking for fresh talent, and in a moment of madness you had put yourself through the application. Now, a trial run in front of several of Silco’s lackeys later, you were here.
About to go on.
Maybe another shot was needed?
As the thought crossed your mind, a large woman with a metallic arm – Sevika, you thought was her name – appeared in the doorway.
“You’re up, little lady. Better be worth the money.”
A sharp exhale left your nose as you nodded, stomach churning. You stood slowly on shaky legs and approached where the woman stood in the doorway. Sevika led you out the door down a small hallway, before gesturing to another door.
“Tough crowd out there. Have fun with it, kid.”
All you can manage is another nod.
Pushing open the door, you’re hit with a wave of chatter, smoke, and the stench of stale alcohol. Walking onto the small, low stage, you’re unable to see many faces, the majority hidden by the thick fog of smoke, others blinded out by the lights.
Perhaps you’d be able to work easier, without seeing the judgment of the patrons enjoying their night.
You knew the crowd this early in the night wouldn’t be opposed to the slower, more soulful music you had to offer. It was the lead up to the main, light flashing, eardrum rupturing night that always took over come the late hours of the night.
Still, despite knowing your audience, the nerves ate at you.
You approached the microphone and took in a deep breath, preparing to relinquish yourself to the words that you had rehearsed again and again.
Finally, your turn in the spotlight. Finally, your chance to step away from spying, from theft, from serving to drunkards...
The notes left you strong, confidently, your voice easily carrying throughout the establishment.
As the melodies flowed, as did your thoughts, somehow miles away from where you were in the moment. Lost in the rhythms, entranced by the poetry, fogged by the layers of smoke that mindlessly choked every resident of Zaun with every passing moment…
You blinked out of your reverie at the sound of applause.
You were no longer singing.
That couldn’t have been your whole set, you thought with a panic, could it? No, you were miles away, you somehow missed the whole thing. Yet still, there was Sevika again, now motioning for you to step off the stage and allow the patrons to return to their nights.
In a daze you wandered over to her, mind trying to catch up to where it was.
“How’re you feeling?” the woman questioned, and you wondered if you looked as nauseous as you felt.
“Like I need a drink,” was your only response.
Sevika snorted, metal arm pointing ahead of her, a different way than the one you entered upon first arriving.
“Maybe in a minute. Boss wants to see you.”
Oh good. That helps the nerves.
“Silco wants to…see me?”
What did you do? Was the performance awful?
In silence, you follow Sevika up some stairs, your heart rate rising with each step.
Did someone complain? Were you dressed wrong? Were you being framed for something?
You’re led to a door that’s somehow more intricate than the others, taller, better maintained. But there’s something that catches you off guard.
Are those children’s drawings on the walls next to it?
The sound of metal knocking on wood rings loudly through the hall.
“Enter,” a calm, almost bored voice responds.
Sevika opens the door for you, unmoving.
Your feet propel you forward, although you aren’t positive you told them to.
There, sitting in what could almost be described as a throne, is the most powerful man in the Undercity.
Silco.
The monster so many are warned of, a nightmare that floats upon the breeze, the disease that flooded the Lanes and ruined so many lives.
How disappointing, your mind whispered, to find nothing but a man sitting in the place of said monster.
Monster, no, but maimed, yes. Scarring marred the side of his face, his left eye a demonic clashing of black and red, highlighted further by the matching vest and shirt that that fit his form well.
And somehow, more of the devil you were oft warned of was found in the ice gaze of the contrasting blue eye, gazing at you like he could unravel you in a heartbeat.
"What's your name, girl?"
His voice is rough, low, calculated. It leaves you more breathless than the smoke in the Lanes.
You breathe your name shakily, standing at the door, as he leans forward, grasping a cigar between long, lithe fingers.
He motions to the chair across from his regal couch. "Sit."
Without a word, you do.
He clips the tip of the cigar carefully, eyes focused on it, never once facing you. Disinterested. "You sang tonight for the first time here. Why?"
You stutter a moment. "Why what?"
He lights the cigar, taking a long drag and finally turning his eyes to you. "Why sing here?"
You search his eyes for something, anything, but when you only find cold calculation, you relent. "Because it's my best chance to leave Zaun."
He nods, once, taking another drag. "And that's all?"
You furrow your brow. "What else would it be?"
"Thievery, sabotage, spy work" he lists off easily. "You could be here for numerous reasons."
A silence settles between you, as he examines you closer. "How old are you, girl?"
"Old enough," you answer quietly.
The only response you receive is a quirk of his eyebrow. "Which means very young, then. So what are your ambitions, little bird?"
A small thrill courses through you at the pet name, and you answer honestly. "To leave here. To get above ground. To be respected."
He breathes in through his nose, looking down on you. "Power, then."
You tilt your, head, but agree. "Yes."
"And what would you do, for this power, little bird?" He whispers. "Would you truly do anything to achieve it? Or would you waste your years singing, trapped in a cage of your own design."
You pause, considering the weight of his words. "I'd do anything."
"Lovely little bird," he murmurs, his blue eye darkening.
This couldn’t be happening, you tried to rationalize. You must’ve passed out – yes that would make so much more sense. When you started singing, the nerves must’ve knocked you unconscious. That would explain why you couldn’t remember what you sang, that would explain the daze you’ve been in ever since, that would explain the fact that The Eye of Zaun is now staring at you like a piece of meat to be devoured.
"May I leave?" You whisper.
He considers you silently. "No. Come here, little bird." His foot carelessly points to where he wants you to stand.
You consider your position, your ambitions, your life, and without a word, you stand, making your way over to where he ordered you.
"Kneel." He says simply, placing his cigar in the ash tray.
You do, falling to your knees in an instant.
If he's surprised, he doesn't show it. Instead, he lightly crooks your chin up with a single finger to meet his eyes. You stare into both, unblinking, gazing between the ice blue and the blood red.
"Good little bird," he murmurs, a low tone that sends heat through you. "Leave." His hand releases your jaw, and he leans back.
"…What?" You question, stunned.
"You've proven yourself to me. Leave."
You sit, stunned. "You…what?"
He glances down at you, half amused, half annoyed. "Leave, girl, before I change my mind." He leans forward slightly. "Or do you so badly want to stay?"
Slowly, you stand, eyes searching his for answers in this strange game. "You're asking if I want to stay?"
"You haven't left yet," he points out, and you see the first hint of interest in that damned blue eye. "Does something intrigue you about an old man, little bird?"
You take a slow step forward, ending up between his spread legs.
This definitely can't be happening - your brain rationalizes as you perch on his lap, straddling him, of your own accord.
Silco breathes in sharply through his nose, looking at you with a hint of challenge in his eye. "What are you doing, little bird?"
"Staying," you answer, softly placing your hands on his chest.
"Staying," he purrs, his voice lowering. "Staying with a man twice your age, a man who could be your father." He leans forward. "You want me, little bird?"
Softly, without a word, you grind down on to his clothed cock, surprised to find it half hard. "Yes."
He hisses, grabbing your jaw roughly between his fingers. "Little tease. This will be of no benefit to you. You'll have no special privileges for this, you'll not be under my care."
You grind down again. "I don't ask for that."
He growls, a feral sound in the back of your throat, before reaching for his belt. "Then let me see that tight little cunt."
Without another word you lift up your dress, and allow him to drag his hand roughly up your thigh, feeling the crux between your leg.
"Little one," he groans. "You're dripping already." He crooks a long finger inside you slowly. "You want me that badly?"
"Yes sir," you whisper, grinding against his finger.
He pulls it out immediately, holding it up to you to suck. When you take it in his mouth, he doesn't react beyond a further darkening in his gaze. "Then take it. Ride my cock, little bird." He pulls your underwear to the side and lines himself up, pushing in in one smooth motion.
You gasp sharply, head falling forward in pleasure.
"Good," he hisses. "You sing so beautifully. Let me hear you sing for me again." He grips your hips tightly, maneuvering you on his lap as though you were nothing but a toy.
Soft whines escape you as you stare into those dangerous eyes, head spinning as you take in the lines on his face, the calluses of his fingers, the hints of grey in his hair.
"Sing for me little bird," he growls. "Sing for an old man when you cum."
You shudder a moan and begin to ride him, moving faster. He groans sharply, the first sign that he's even remotely phased by the events happening.
"That's it," he praises. "Good girl. Take what you need." he quickly rubs at your clit, urging your orgasm along as it comes faster than it ever has.
"I feel your walls fluttering, little bird," he whispers darkly. "Don't be shy. Sing for me."
With a loud moan, gripping the older man's shoulders tightly, you crumble, cumming around his cock.
He pushes you off immediately, giving you no chance to recover. "Kneel."
You do, immediately leaning forward to take his cock in his mouth.
"Good girl," Silco groans. "Good girl. Taking it so well."
You moan around him, and he grips your hair tightly, feeling himself tense. "Swallow my seed, little one. Be a good girl." He grips tighter, voice reduced to gravel as he released long, hot spurts down your throat.
You struggle, but swallow, coming off him with a pop.
"Very good." He waves a hand dismissively, as though nothing happened. "You may leave."
When you make no movement to leave, he glares. "Leave, little bird. You're flying perilously close to the sun."
You spin around and exit the room swiftly, adjusting your dress and hair to the best of your abilities. As the door closes behind you, you collapse against it.
"Everything okay, kid?" The woman, Sevika, asked.
"Yeah," you nod, head spinning. "Yeah."
She considers you a moment. "Alright. Go get that drink."
You hurry away, back to the bar, your release still dripping down your thigh, and curse yourself.
Summary: Living in the Avengers Tower circa 2012 was an interesting experience, especially when a certain god interrupts a private moment.
Disclaimer: I fear a lack of writing smut for 2 years has weakened my talents. Fear not, dearest readers, for I have only just begun…
A shuddering breath leaves you as your fingers flex within your inner walls, drawing out a slow, enduring pleasure as you play with yourself.
The day had been long, the week had been longer, and you finally had a moment to yourself, finally having the peace to release some tension from endless chaos and missions.
"Oh!' you gasp softly, hitting a spot within your walls softly, focusing on it.
Your mind wanders lightly for a topic to help you along, and without much guidance, it falls back to yesterday morning.
Stumbling into the library, seeing him, the trickster, dressed casually in black slacks and a knit green sweater, reading in an armchair.
Your pussy clenched around your fingers as you remember how domestic he looked, how strong he looked, how his eyelashes brushed his cheekbones and now his jaw could cut glass.
"Loki" you gasp out, easily able to imagine your fingers as his as you slow your pace, teasing your clit, imagining the wicket ways he'd have with you. "Loki…"
"You called, little mortal?" A cold, mocking voice rings through your room.
Your eyes shoot open and meet the cool, calculating blue eyes of Loki Laufeyson. He stands eerily quiet at the foot of your bed, dressed in his classic, gaudy Asgardian leather, arms clasped behind his back with an air of regality that made you want to kick him.
"Fucking hell!" You shout, grasping the nearest blanket and covering you. "Loki!"
"I thought I heard you say my name," he walks slowly towards your bed. "But before it was less angry, more...like a prayer."
"Get out!" You snap. "I'm not in the mood for your games right this second."
"Clearly," he grins, eyes on where your fingers are still buried in you under the blanket. "But what sort of god would I be if I didn't answer the desperate pleas of mortals." He sits on the edge of your bed, gazing at you.
Embarrassed, you grab the nearest pillow and chuck it at his head.
It phases through him as he grins, unperturbed. "Was that meant to hurt, little one?"
You gasp, eyes flashing with understanding. "You're not really here."
"No, he whispers, the illusion leaning towards you. "Were I physically present, I might not be able to hold back from ravishing you," he whispers sultrily. "So I send this image instead, to…draw more prayers from that pretty little mouth."
You shudder, taking in the situation, accidentally brushing against your inner wall with a finger.
He grins knowingly. "You want to keep touching yourself, don't you, pet?" He murmurs softly. "That's why you wanted me to leave? But what if…" he motions to the blanket hiding you from his gaze. "What if I want to watch?"
Your chest heaves at the intensity of his gaze. "Loki…."
"Better" he purrs, voice lowering. "But not quite. Reveal yourself to me, pet, and I'll bring you pleasure beyond compare, without even a touch."
You freeze a moment, holding his gaze. With a shaky hand, you remove the blanket from you, revealing your dripping cunt still stuffed with two fingers.
"Stunning" he breathes in slowly, eyes glued to the sight. "Dripping. Is that all for me, pet?"
You shudder, answering softly. "Yes."
The god chuckles darkly. "Good pet. Touch yourself. Bring yourself pleasure under my gaze."
Slowly, hesitantly, you roll your thumb over your clit, instinctively spreading your legs wider.
"Yes," he hisses. "Spread those legs, let me see you."
You shudder, resuming the slow pace of your fingers before you were interrupted, the act feeling significantly hotter under the watchful gaze of the illusion.
"Loki," you moan softly, gazing at the illusion. It's flawless, exactly like him. His hair slicked back, his eyes shining with mischief, lithe fingers twitching as though the illusion was seconds away from reaching for you.
"Yes, that's it" he whispers darkly. "Moan my name."
Another moan slips through your lips at his words, entranced, slipping a third finger through your tight entrance. Your eyes slip closed, basking in the sensations.
"Moan it," his voice drips with sin. "Pray at my alter and give your pleasure as my offering."
"Fuck" you curse, speeding up your fingers, feeling your walls flutter.
"Stop." The order comes harshly, and your eyes shoot open to meet a wicked grin.
"Loki" you whine, hand stilling as your hips buck lightly, chasing the sensations.
"Were you close, pet?" He coos mockingly, and at your not, he laughs. "Tough. I've not had enough of your prayers." His illusion leans back, waving a hand. "Go on then. Continue."
Your hands continue thrusting, almost against your will, hanging off the god's every word.
"Good girl," he mutters. "Give yourself more. Bring yourself closer to the edge."
Gently, your free hand clutches at your breast, fingers thrusting faster in your cunt.
"Good" his voice rumbles, lower. "Stop."
"Loki!" You cry, arching your back. "Fuck's sake."
"Shhh pet," he hushes. "You're doing so well for me."
You catch your breath, shuddering.
"Show me your fingers darling. Show me your offering to your god."
Shivering, you pull your fingers out, holding your shining fingers to the illusion. His eyes darken further, blue eyes almost fully blow out.
"A shame darling, that I am not truly here to devour that weeping cunt." He hisses in a breath. "Taste yourself for me."
You suck a finger into your mouth, and Loki groans. "Good…good." He shifts forward quickly, elbows propped on his knees. "Touch yourself again. One last time, darling. I won't tell you to stop, but you won't cum until I say."
"Yes," you whisper softly, fingers once again playing with your cunt, dragging in and out of your wetness and playing with your clit."
"Look at me, pet," he orders, and you snap your eyes to meet his gaze. "Don't look away. Look at me and take your pleasure, take your reward for pleasing your god."
A low whine escapes your throat.
"Bring yourself to the sweetest precipice," his voice is like honey. "Feel it build in every atom in your precious body and offer it to my name."
"Loki" you gasp out, choking on a moan. "Close."
"Hold it. Until I command. Don't disappoint me, little one."
"I won't" you gasp, hand relentless in it's pace. "I won't, I won't, I won't."
"I know, sweetling." He purrs. "I know, I know, it's so hard. Count from 10, darling. Count from 10 and give me your pleasure."
You shudder out a groan. "Ten."
"Good pet. Go on."
"Nine."
"Nice and slow for me." He gazes at you like you're precious.
"Eight."
"Darling."
"S-Seven." His groan makes you stutter. "Six!"
"You're so close for me, darling," he whispers, a wide grin on his face.
"Five…."
"I can see your cunt dripping for me…"
"F-Four."
"Gushing for me."
"Three," your voice catches in your throat.
"Clenching for me."
"Two…"
"Begging for me."
"One!" You gasp, throwing your head back violently. "Loki! Lok-" your voice breaks.
"Cum for me," he growls. "Come for your god."
"FUCK!" You shout, cumming hard and fast around your own fingers, feeling your head spin and your pussy clench.
"Very good, pet." Loki's voice whispers you through it. "What an offering…all for me."
You gasp for breath, shuddering, looking up at the illusion. "Loki…"
"Stunning, little mortal." He whispers, and his illusion begins to fade away. "I'll return for you in time. You need only moan my name."
Guys I need to read a fanfic where Adrian is a CREEP and a STALKER who’s atrciously down bad for reader. And reader matches his freak. Please send recs 😭
Only one I can think of off the top of my head which is Peeping Tom by @the-hidden-pages it's an older fic from 2022 but it's one of my personal favorites!
There is no rhyme or reason for the characters I choose - merely those I crave carnally.
An important note to my work this year is this: I don't support the usage of AI in creative endeavours such as this. Rest assured these words are my own, the bad and the good. I encourage all others to do the same.
This year I'm using a list found on Reddit - many thanks to the creator!
Disclaimer: All of my Kinktober pieces are unedited due to the nature of writing one piece a day. I may come back later to edit them.
half of the writers room for gotham (2014-2019) was fully convinced it was a gritty hypermasculine cable cop show and the other half believed they were writing a batman 1966 spiritual successor for the dark cabaret crowd and all of them had conflicting fetishes and every episode was called something like i brought you my bullets you brought me your love and jada pinkett smith had the ghosts of several silver screen divas within her wrestling for control of her performance at all times and they always set aside some time for the penguin serve segment, where robin lord taylor as oswald cobblepot would appear onscreen with his slicked down spiky bangs and cunt it up in ways that the world hadn’t seen since edmund said now gods stand up for bastards in the very first performance of king lear. and nobody involved had ever seen a tv show before so it can’t be judged within those terms.
I've been resource gathering for YEARS so now I am going to share my dragons hoard
Floorplanner. Design and furnish a house for you to use for having a consistent background in your comic or anything! Free, you need an account, easy to use, and you can save multiple houses.
Comparing Heights. Input the heights of characters to see what the different is between them. Great for keeping consistency. Free.
Magma. Draw online with friends in real time. Great for practice or hanging out. Free, paid plan available, account preferred.
Smithsonian Open Access. Loads of free images. Free.
SketchDaily. Lots of pose references, massive library, is set on a timer so you can practice quick figure drawing. Free.
SculptGL. A sculpting tool which I am yet to master, but you should be able to make whatever 3d object you like with it. free.
Pexels. Free stock images. And the search engine is actually pretty good at pulling up what you want.
Figurosity. Great pose references, diverse body types, lots of "how to draw" videos directly on the site, the models are 3d and you can rotate the angle, but you can't make custom poses or edit body proportions. Free, account option, paid plans available.
Line of Action. More drawing references, this one also has a focus on expressions, hands/feet, animals, landscapes. Free.
Animal Photo. You pose a 3d skull model and select an animal species, and they give you a bunch of photo references for that animal at that angle. Super handy. Free.
Height Weight Chart. You ever see an OC listed as having a certain weight but then they look Wildly different than the number suggests? Well here's a site to avoid that! It shows real people at different weights and heights to give you a better idea of what these abstract numbers all look like. Free to use.
MapCrunch. Environment artists rejoice. Random locations, filter by indoor or outdoor, rural or urban, specific country. Great for realistic/authentic building ref.
Kinktober Day 4 - Thigh Riding | Sex Pollen - Jaskier x Fem!Reader
Thigh riding | Sex pollen | Forced orgasm
Disclaimer: I did interpret “sex pollen” as loose as aphrodisiac - it’s not an actual pollen, it’s a liquid.
Also, it's late, I have work, I did rush a little to get this out but it's better than another day sans post I hope!
Summary: Geralt had warned you of the dangers of consorting with witches. But you had never anticipated the dangers being this.
Warnings: NSFW, Public Sex/Orgies, Aphrodisiac, Dub Con because of the aphrodisiac but they love each other I swear.
Geralt had warned you.
Geralt had warned you of the dangers of witches often enough. Even Yennefer, a witch herself, often advised against mingling with others that dabble in Chaos.
But that didn’t stop Jaskier from accepting the opportunity of performing on behalf of a town’s witch.
It didn’t stop you from attending the gathering in support of him.
Which is how the pair of you wound up in the mansion of the local town’s “healer”, surrounded by townsfolk that were in the know, and various other mages and witches.
Jaskier had sung wonderfully, as captivating as he ever did - and to hold the attention of those as vain as witches and mages was no small feat, you’ll give him that.
As the night went on, he was free to mingle, returning to your side and sip on the wine that was being freely poured, to feast on the foods presented.
“And to think Geralt was worried,” Jaskier scoffed, in his element, overconfident in the way he often became when things were going a little too smoothly.
It didn’t stop you from smiling though, an easy grin matching his on your face. “A worrywart, that one. A white haired worrywart of a Witcher.”
“Isn’t he just? He ought to have more trust in us.”
You chuckled, taking another sip before waving your glass in emphasis. “Did he warn you about the wine?”
“No, what of it?”
“Yennefer mentioned some witches put something in it, an aphrodisiac. Makes the night more fun as it goes on.”
Jaskier made a face, somewhere between a grimace and a grin. “Oh woe is me, a witch’s orgy. Save me, Butcher of Blaviken!”
A snort escapes you as the pair of you take another sip, continuing to pass the time discussing his various adventures with Geralt, his performance, and the various attendees of the soiree.
The conversation carried on easily, until the vibe of the room suddenly, inexplicably, intangibly…Shifted
Suddenly the air was heavier, thicker in a way that was hotter, heavier. It felt as though the voices of the other partygoers was quieting, slowing down. You became more aware of certain things - men sitting with their hands on other women’s thighs, just a little too high. A flush on women’s cheeks that ran a little brighter, went a little further down than the typical blush from too much wine.
And you were very aware of Jaskier sitting beside you.
His thigh lightly touching yours was suddenly scalding you, but in a way that you felt you simply couldn’t move away.
You hadn’t realized you had stopped listening to the conversation entirely until Jaskier called your name.
You met his eyes, ready to apologize, before immediately regretting it.
Were his eyes always so piercing? His hair always so soft? Did you always notice how deeply he unbuttoned his shirt, how noticeable the droplets of sweat were running down it.
Oh.
Oh.
“Jaskier,” you croaked out, suddenly noticing how dry your mouth was. You licked your lips and continued. “Jaskier, the wine. I don’t think Geralt was wrong.”
“Hmm?” the bard only hummed, and you met his eyes again. He was practically in a trance, staring at where your tongue had darted out to wet your lips.
Slowly, around you, you begin to hear soft sighs, and the lower, hushed tones of lovers speaking to one another.
You grow more aware of the unbearable, present, nearly painful heat between your legs, and when you shift, you realize that you’re already drenched.
“Jask…”
The bard reached forward, placing a large, warm, calloused hand on your thighs.
“They spiked the wine,” he breathes out, turning himself enough that his head is resting against yours, words breathing right in your ear and sending chills down your spine.
“Mhm,” your eyes are closed, trying to ignore the stimuli coming from all senses that your body seems hyper aware of. The gasps, the quiet moans, people growing closer.
Jaskier right beside you.
“Darling we can leave right now,” he breathes, hand on your thigh growing tighter, wandering ever so slightly higher. “We can rent a room in the nearest tavern - or two, if you want to wait this out. We don’t have to stay -”
You cut him off, pushing him back. You can see him start to form an apology, but before giving him the chance you stand and move to position yourself on his lap, straddling his legs and capturing him in a frantic kiss.
It’s not coordinated, or careful, or planned. The moment Jaskier’s brain catches up to what you’ve done, he’s immediately pried your lips open with his tongue, tasting you, claiming you, his hand coming around to cradle your head and pull you in deeper. His other hand wanders quickly, greedily, grasping at every inch of you that he can.
You already don’t want clothes in the way.
As quickly as you get on him, you stand again. The bard is dazed, bright eyes nothing but dark pupils gazing at you as you begin to make quick work of your clothes.
It’s the wine, some tiny, miniscule part in the back of your mind speaks. It’s the wine making you strip in front of a room of strangers, the wine making you mount your friend in a fit of desire.
The wine. Only the wine.
It has to be.
Your hands, in their flurry, begin to struggle with the laces, of which Jaskier is far too eager to help you with.
He leans forward, reaching up to help you loosen the corset. As it’s flung somewhere to your side, he makes quick work of your undershirt, your skirts.
Quickly, so quickly it all began, and just as quickly you’re completely nude, with the bard urging you back into his lap.
In your haste, you slip a little, falling to one side and straddling only one of his thighs.
Despite this you moan, jolting slightly as sliding on the thigh offers some friction to your throbbing clit.
“Fuck,” you gasp, grasping on to his shoulders tightly, your body moving without your full consent as you seek any form of relief to the growing burn within you.
It’s too much, the feeling of the cotton trousers beneath you, offering a burning friction to satiate your need, the growing groans echoing throughout the entire room.
It’s not enough, when Jaskier himself lets out a beautiful moan, feeling you begin to soak through his clothes as you claw at him desperately.
“Dove, please,” he begs, leaning forward to pepper your neck and collarbone with bites. Your hips rock faster, until he tugs harshly at your hair, exposing your neck fully as you shout. His teeth mark your neck and his grip remains firm, his other hand wandering down to aide your movements.
Your mind, in its wine and drug and lust addled haze, can only focus on two things: easing the burn between your legs, and hearing one of his beautiful sounds again.
And so your hand promptly finds his cock, working it through the flap in his trousers and stroking.
Gods is he hard.
It’s his turn to have his head thrown back, to let out a loud, melodic moan to the room to join the symphony of the others’. It’s rougher than you expected, lightly due to his night of signing and shouting boisterously to a room, but hells did it ever manage to turn you on.
You’re rushing it, you know it, he knows it, but somehow no one can bring themselves to mind as you raise yourself up further, straddling him properly once again.
You stare into the bard’s blue eyes, taking in every expression as you sink down fully, gasping as you feel every inch, every curve, every vein. It’s easy, with how wet you’ve become, and within seconds you’re riding him and hard as you can.
He’s eager to help you, hands grasping your hips so tightly they’re bound to leave bruises, controlling your pace and pulling you ever so slightly closer.
“This isn’t,” Jaskier gasped out, between groans and moans bites to your neck. “This isn’t what I wanted for our first night together.”
“You dreamed of this?” You tease half-heartedly, feeling a warmth in your heart bloom despite the absurdity of the situation.
Was this bard really about to give you a love confession whilst balls deep in you in the midst of a sex party?
“Of course,” he moaned, head thrown back and eyes clenched shut. “Gods, so many nights I wanted to have you, in the nearest room in a tavern, against the nearest wall, in the midst of camp. There was a plan, wine and dinner and singing and flowers, just us - fuck do that again.”
You reach for his hair, forcefully pulling his head back to meet your gaze.
“We’ll do this again,” you promise, thighs burning as you ride faster, chasing that growing feeling within you. “I’ve wanted it too, and we’ll talk about it when this damned wine isn’t in our heads but Jaskier, please just fuck me right now I’m so close -”
He stops you, hand travelling forward to meet your clit, rubbing in just the right way that has you seeing stars within seconds.
With your high comes his, and you can’t help but whine at the feeling of his cum shooting deep within you, warming you from the inside out as you clutch each other desperately, needly, as though you were the answer to some eternal unasked question.
As the pair of you come down, gasping, panting, your ears pick up the rest of the party beginning to quiet as well. It was almost as if the spell had a time limit, you thought aimlessly.
As you came to, and the sensations began to dull, your mind grew louder.
You had just fucked Jaskier.
You were still sitting on his cock.
As you go to move, his hand holds your hip tightly, and the other travels upwards to brush some hair out of your face, cupping your cheek. His gaze is gentle, kind, but hungry.
“We’ll do it again, you say?” he teases, that overconfident smirk back on his face. You can feel him hardening inside you once again, and you shift as a reflex, causing a burst of heat to ignite in you once again. “What say you to back at the inn?”
I am absolutely FEASTING on that Astarion fic. My god. If you ever feel so inclined to write more pleasure dom Astarion, let nothing stop you. (If only Tav could have let him keep going at the end there…)
Trust me my dear, you'll not escape the rest of kinktober without at least one more Astarion fic.
Sadly, tonight will not be him, but hopefully it'll keep you warm until your next encounter with the vampire
Kinktober Day 1 - 'Love' Bites | Overstimulation - Astarion x Fem!Reader
Love bites | Overstimulation | Impact play
Coming out the gates strong with 3500+ words for this man. It has not been edited, I have work in the morning, I'm going to bed.
Summary: With the promise of taking you to a quiet little piece of nowhere to forget all the madness of the adventure, Astarion pulls out all the stops to ensure you forget everything, except the pleasure he gives you.
To say you bonded quickly with your party would be an understatement - having the tadpole within your mind and surviving the same crash tends to form that immediate trauma bond. But you and the vampire had formed a deeper understanding of each other much sooner than the others.
That night, so early on in your adventure, when you awoke to the man perched over you, fangs bared and your throat exposed for the taking, things simply couldn’t go back to the status quo.
It fogged your mind the entirety of the next day, the proximity, the adrenaline, the pure, undiluted hunger.
You’ve allowed him to feed from you every night since.
You played it off as trust, at first. Trust in him, a want to have him fully strengthened for battle. Nothing but business.
But it didn’t take long for him to understand your underlying motivation, the reason you allowed yourself to feel drained, exhausted, and weak for each battle moving forward, perpetually distracted by the memory of his lips and teeth at your neck. The memory welcomed the fantasies with open arms, fantasies of his hands wandering as he drank, kissing your lips with your own blood on his own, his fangs sinking into your thighs, before wandering higher…
Still, you were never going to force it.
So, you allowed him to continue to drink, both aware of the growing tension, both refusing to move further.
Until that changed.
When Astarion came to you, offering for you both to find a “little piece of nowhere”, somewhere to “forget all this madness”, you sure as hell weren’t about to decline.
A chance to get him out of your head was exactly what you needed to think clearly.
Night had long since fallen, as you sat pretending to read one of many absurd tomes Gale had collected throughout the journey. A life of adventuring doesn’t make for the most consistent sleep schedule, and as such awaiting for the entire party to call it a night was practically torment as you tried to ignore the growing heat between your legs.
But no amount of pretending to study the Oral Histories of Faerun could distract you from wondering what pleasures tonight would bring.
When finally, finally, Karlach decided to call it a night, you waited a few moments more before creeping off to where Astarion had told you to meet him.
Any other night it may have been eerie, creeping through the woods unarmed as the moon rose high in the sky. But all you could feel was the anticipation growing, humming in every nerve of your body like someone had struck you with a Witch Bolt.
Your heart nearly stopped as movement caught your eye.
There, emerging from the trees, already shirtless, was the vampire.
You had seen him in various states of undress before - curing wounds of various weapons and spells will do that. But there was something different about it in this circumstance, seeing him perfectly unscathed, strong and confident from the weeks of draining your life from your veins, silver hair and pale skin hauntingly beautiful in the moonlight.
“There you are,” he spoke lowly, striding slowly towards you. “I’ve been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”
While the words themselves made you blush, you couldn’t help comment.
“The moment you set eyes on me you had a knife to my throat.”
“Ah,” he sighed, walking slowly around you, bringing his fingers to lightly trail up your arm. “But if you remember, I did notice then and there what a darling neck you had, I just knew it would be heavenly.”
He closed the distance between you, and you could promptly feel his strong form cold against your back, a prominent bulge pressing into you, and his breath on your neck making you lightheaded.
His hand trailed down your neck to trace the marks he had been leaving nightly. “And I was right.”
Despite how little he had done, you had grown so wound up from the endless fantasies from his nights of feeding that you were already weak in the knees.
His left hand lightly began to caress your thigh, as his right takes to untying the strings of your loose shirt, his mouth never stopping.
“You’ve been so helpful these last few weeks darling, allowing me for the first time to indulge in the blood of a human, giving me strength at your expense. You’ve been so good for me too, holding back all those little sounds you’ve been wanting to make, pretending like you don’t get wet just at the thought of me drinking from you, like you don’t get soaked from the moment my lips touch your neck. Hmm?”
Your breathing was already heavy, your thighs already squeezing together in some attempt for stimulation - it was already too much. All you could do was nod, a breathy “yes” escaping you as your shirt is undone, falling to the forest floor.
His hands begin to explore, lightly tracing up your arms, down your stomach, across your collarbone. “And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you my love? To keep us alive, to keep us all going. You’ve been so helpful to all of us, to me, I think it’s time I take some weight off of those pretty little shoulders.”
Suddenly, forcefully, he spins you around, steadying you by grabbing your hips. You look into the red eyes that gaze at you intently, with an emotion that is so close to something like love, devotion, but feeling just slightly too forced, slightly too uncanny.
That gaze is a problem for another day, you determine, as he sinks to his knees and gazes up at you, untying your trousers.
After all, the love may not be real, but the lust in his eyes sure as hell is.
He makes slow work of the fabric, speaking up at you the entire time.
“Dearest, I intend to do exactly as I promised. I want to repay you for the kindness you’ve given me, the trust you’ve placed in me. Allow me to please you, to make you forget about everything, if only for a night. Will you allow me this?”
You nodded, mutely, as you stepped out of your pants.
He gazed up at you again, eyes drinking you in, darkening as they travel up your body, stopping at between your legs, your chest, your neck.
When his eyes met yours again, he stood up quickly, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a deep kiss.
You had thought about this moment too often.
What he would taste like, how his fangs would feel against your tongue, how his lips would feel against yours. He pulled you into him desperately, and the sensation of your bare chest against his made your head spin, gasping into the kiss as he took full control, kissing you with such a passion that you might have thought there was more to it than a simple need for release, repayment.
He pulled away all too soon, thumb caressing your lower lip as he gazed at you in that absurdly sultry way of his.
“Before I take your breath away,” he breathed out, pausing to kiss your cheek. “I need to know what you want from me darling.” Another pause, a kiss to the jaw now. “Tell me how to please you.” A kiss behind the ear. “Tell me how to make you scream.”
You were barely keeping it together, eyes already fluttering closed.
A sharp bite to the neck, not enough to bleed, but enough to make you gasp, brought you out of it. His red eyes gazed at you intently, awaiting your response.
“I want you to take control,” you speak, feeling as though you’re giving a confession. “I don’t want to think. I want you to drain me of my blood, of my thoughts. Make me cum, make me scream, make me feel so good it hurts, until I’m begging you to stop, Astarion.”
“Oh, darling,” he nearly growled, his hand caressing your cheek. “I'll do just that.”
He spun you again, once again catching you off guard. Within moments, you feel him press up against you again, this time the hardness of his cock being released from his pants, discarded far into the forest you assumed.
“You mustn’t keep a sound from me, by the way,” he spoke lightly. “I’ll know if you do.”
You aren’t allowed much time to consider that as you feel his lips on your neck, pecking and lightly biting and sucking. His hands trail upwards to cup your breasts, slowly, softly, deeply massaging, as though he’s trying to feel every inch of your skin. His fingers lightly pinch and tug against your peaks, and he leaves soft bites on your neck, never enough to break the skin.
It had only been moments, but you’re whining, and you can feel your wetness dripping down your thigh.
“Astarion, please,” you breathe, hand coming up to lace in his hair in an attempt to force him deeper into your neck.
He just laughed. “Darling I’ve barely touched you and you’re begging. Allow me to take my time with you.”
His left hand stays at your breast as his right once again wanders downward, slowly reaching your inner thigh.
“I can smell it, you know,” he muttered lowly in your ear, and you almost squeak, flushed with embarrassment. “Every time you’re so wet you can barely think, stuck in your little fantasies as I drink from you. You do so well, hiding your wants from me, but I’ve always known, and I’ve always wanted to push it further, to let my hand wander between your pretty little legs and feel just how wet for me you are…”
As he takes a pause, his fingers reach your folds, lightly caressing up and down, circling your clit, and you both sigh.
“Astarion…”
“Hells, you want me so badly don’t you?”
“Please.”
“Oh, I’m not here to deny you, angel. I’ll give you everything you want…”
Without warning, two of his slender, delightfully long digits enter you, and you release a moan louder than you expected.
“Very good,” he praised, fingers thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace, as he resumed his work on your neck. He continued to suck and bite, no doubt leaving a myriad of bruises and marks that you would have to explain away tomorrow.
He growls again, biting a little harder, though still not hard enough to draw any blood, you notice. His fingers within you speed up, spreading in a way that has you choking out another moan.
“I can hear you thinking, darling. That’s not what we want now, is it?”
“No - fuck, there,” you moan deeper, head tilting back as his fingers reach a place in you that is forever out of your reach.
“Oh, good girl,” he purrs, focusing on that one spot. “Good girl, telling me what you want. Focus on your body, darling, not your thoughts. Feel me against you, feel me in you, feel how badly you need that release.”
“Astarion please.”
“Please what, darling?”
“Bite me harder.”
“Oh, not yet my sweet. We have all night for that, and I would quite like to sample the nectar between your thighs before tasting your heavenly blood. But I’ve left such a wonderful piece of work on your neck, now everyone at the camp will know now more than ever that you’re mine.”
“Fuck,” you gasp out, feeling the waves of heat overcome you and your thighs begin to collapse, your release hitting hard and fast at his use of possessive language.
“Very good, darling,” he praised, holding you up as your vision spun. His fingers didn’t cease as you came, immediately riling you back up, moans spilling out of you louder than before. You hadn’t noticed when he had added a third finger, but you felt the stretch as he pushed in, the emptiness when he pulled out.
You needed more, and he was clearly eager to give it to you.
“Lie down, my darling,” he whispered in your ear. “Allow me to worship you further.”
You did so without hesitation, resting back on a relatively flat portion of the forest floor, spreading your legs as Astarion knelt down, bringing your legs up on to his shoulders and staring down hungrily at you.
Despite the ferocity in his eyes, he took his time, kissing from your ankle to your thigh on your left leg, and then your right. The moment you felt your frustration grow to a peak, he bit down, once again leaving marks but never breaking the skin, marking the soft flesh of your thigh.
He teased you for a few moments before the impatience struck him as well, and leaned forward further, licking a long stripe up your folds.
“Oh darling, and I thought your blood was heavenly,” he breathed, and before you could respond, he went to work.
Immediately your hands were in his hair, pulling and pushing in some attempt to regain any sort of sanity in this moment. His tongue worked wonders, knowing exactly how to work inside you before retreating, teasing at your clit, before the vicious cycle repeated. His hands clenched your thighs as though they were a life line, and the moans that left him traveled into the depths of your core.
It didn’t take long, you were already falling over the edge again, now shouting as the pleasure grew blinding.
“I could stay here forever,” you could barely hear him lament, mind fogged. You blinked blearily as you focused on his face that was now above yours, glistening with your release as he grinned ferally, hand briefly coming up to clench at your throat. “But I have more planned for you.”
Despite your exhaustion, you feel the warmth in your core grow, another release of slick as his cock presses up against your folds.
“May I, pet?”
All you can do is moan pathetically, something between “yes” and “please” falling out of you as you weakly nod.
“Darling, you’re a vision,” once again, he strokes your cheek, uncharacteristically loving for the cold vampire. “Completely fucked out, and we haven’t even arrived at the main course.”
With that, you feel him enter you, no resistance give how worked up you are.
You take a moment, joined, as he breathes heavily into your neck and you let out quiet moans, words completely failing you.
“Divine,” he breathes, returning to kiss your neck, the sensitivity of it making you clench around him immediately. “Oh, so divine, darling I could have you for eternity, such a better use of our time than fighting all of these tiresome battles.”
He began to pump in and out of you slowly, your mind spinning from the weight of him on top of you, the sensation of being fucked so deeply, overwhelmed by the afterglow of all that had happened.
And still his words didn’t cease.
“I could keep you forever, a precious little pet, tied to the bed to fuck whenever I wanted. Or perhaps the other way around, I would wait an eternity just for another chance to taste you, to please you. Whatever fantasy you wish darling, we can fulfill it tonight, I swear to you - fuck.”
He picks up the pace as you clench around him yet again, your release not even having a build up, but instead crashing against you like a tsunami. You feel the wetness seep down your thighs, coating where the pair of you connect.
“Ast-ar…” you can barely breathe, and he laughs almost maniacally.
“Very good, darling, just like that. Give in to me. You don’t need a single thought in that head now, focus only on me and let go. You can cum again, you can, for me.”
“Can’t - I can’t…”
“Oh, you can and you will, if you want me to drink from you tonight,” he muttered darkly, and you feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes.
“Astarion.”
“You have to cum again, to get what you want. Just one more time, my darling. One more and you’ll please me so well. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”
You muster up the last of the strength you have, words falling from you without control.
“Yes, fuck, yes please, Astarion, please I want to come, I want you to bite me, I need to be yours, I need you ~”
It was almost as though your last orgasm hadn’t ended, with how quickly this one had began. An endless torrent that had the tears breaking, pouring down your face and into the dirt. You nearly choked out a scream, clenching around him so tightly that you feel Astarion tense, cursing wildly as you feel a warmth flood you.
You take a moment, trying with all your might to remember how to breathe, mouth gaping, expecting Astarion to move from you any moment.
Instead you shriek as he thrusts again, hand once again curled around your neck, stopping any chance you had at catching your breath.
“We aren’t done,” he growled, your own slick and his cum leaking out of you as he continued to fuck you, harder now, less restrained that before, nothing but pathetic whimpers leaving you. “We are so far from done, my love. You’re mine, you’re mine.”
Finally, what you had been begging for all night came to pass, and his fangs sunk deep into that claimed spot of your neck. You felt the familiar warmth and euphoria as your blood drained into his hungry mouth, his moans reaching a crescendo and hips moving at an inhumane pace.
And he was right.
You were his, blood and body and mind, it was all his. He had consumed every inch of you.
It was incredible, it was numbing, all you could think about was Astarion. Every molecule of you was on fire, and screamed to be connected to him, to never leave this moment, to stay in an eternity of this torment, but after four orgasms and on the verge of a fifth, with the ecstasy of his fangs in your neck, you simply couldn’t continue.
“Too much,” you manage to croak out, tears streaming down your cheeks and your entire body screaming. Your hands grip the vampire's arms tightly when he doesn’t immediately stop, nails biting into his skin. “Too much, stop!”
Immediately the fangs retract and he’s gently pulling out of you, red eyes wide with a hint of a rare expression on his face.
Fear.
“Darling I’m so sorry, did I take too much? I felt you going limp but, hells you’re so delicious I must have been lost in it-”
You shook your head quickly, placing a hand on his chest as you tried to collect your thoughts, tears still streaming.
“No, no, no,” you breathe out, still gasping. “Not the blood, you’re alright. It was too much, I really can’t cum again, it's too much. Too much good, I promise.”
The fear melted away to a more familiar expression, a smug smirk.
“Oh darling,” he purred, hand trailing up and down your inner thigh in a soothing but teasing manner. “I don’t know about that, you can still manage full sentences. Clearly too much brain power left…and I could go all night.”
“Astarion.”
A rare, genuine chuckle left the man as he began softly stroking your arm and playing with your hair, easing you down from your intense high.
When your breathing leveled out, he began to stand up, and you nearly whined.
Sensing your distress, he waved lightly. “I’ll be but a moment.”
He sauntered away, and you laid back, taking the moment to look up at the stars, basking in the glow of the orgasms and the moon.
He really had done his job, you had to admit to yourself. You were struggling to form a coherent thought.
When he returned, he had clothed himself, and had a small cloth in his hand. Striding over to you he gently knelt down yet again, running it over the blood stains on your neck, the mess between your thighs.
You stared at him, and he caught your look of surprise.
“What?” he asked, an affronted tone. “I know how to treat my lovers, darling.”
“Hmm,” you chuckle, closing your eyes. “Just a softie, I knew it.”
“Hardly,” he huffed, chucking the cloth off to who knows where and pulling you up against his chest.
He began to play with your fingers, lightly tracing the veins in your hands and up your arms. The pair of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, no words passing between you, but a silent understanding growing.
“We ought to go back to the camp,” Astarion eventually broke the peace, smirking at your disappointed expression. His arms encircled you once again, and you tried not to dwell on how good it felt. “Despite your rather loud vocals, I believe the others didn’t hear us, and unless you’d like to explain to them why you aren’t walking properly tomorrow…”
You snort, pushing him off of you. “Goodnight, Astarion.”
“Goodnight, my darling.”
One thing was certain, you noted as you returned to your bedroll, the sun beginning to peak over the horizon.
You’ll need extra healing from Shadowheart in the morning.
Thank you to @flightlessangelwings for their Kinktober list this year!
