husbandohoarder - Tumblr blog

husbandohoarder · 1 month

Text

— come on and show me

logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson

rated e - 5.5k

tags: Logan POV, MMF threesome, jealous!logan, reader is wade's girl, mutual pining/crushes all around, voyeurism, dirty talk, open relationship, oral sex, fingering, Logan doms both of them, 69ing, fucklicking, ball worship, come eating, PiV

a/n: I want them to kiss and I also want them to kiss reader to here this is! 💕

Right now, all he can hear is Wade running his goddamn mouth. Drowning out the sounds you make - so fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

There’s one thing that Logan knows for sure - and it’s that Wade’s not doing it right. Not like he would.

(or - Logan tries to shut Wade up, and it doesn’t quite go as expected)

Logan can hear Wade from here.

Running that goddamn mouth already, and the sun’s only barely up.

Can hear you, too. The little whimpers that you try bite back. He can imagine the way your teeth sink into your lip - the thought has him shifting in his chair, breakfast forgotten.

So fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

Knows he could make you even louder, too. It’s almost like he’s at the mansion again, looking at another toy he can’t touch.

What a waste.

The sounds crescendo, the chanting of a name layered with that endless babble that makes his teeth grind, before the sound breaks.

Trying not to look interested when the door opens a few minutes later. Snatching up the newspaper that’s been sitting on the cluttered tabletop for a month now, flicking it open.

Ignoring how Wade strolls out, adjusting the waistband on a pair of grey sweats that are hanging way too low on his hips for comfort.

Rummaging around for a bottle of water, the glow of the fridge illuminating the curve of his ass. The cut of the pants look familiar, Logan's eyes narrowing as he wonders if those are his missing pair-

The edge of the paper flicking up again into place again, just as Wade stretches - bending further, before the bottle is snatched from the back.

Logan huffs.

“Hey roomie,” Wade hums, flicking the cap at him. It sails through the air, disappearing into his forgotten cup of coffee with a little 'plunk', “Don’t let me interrupt that killer Ed Tom Bell impression you’ve got going on, just hydrating for round two.”

“Ooh,” A cock of his hip, as he turns - head tilting as he thinks, “Does that make me Josh Brolin? God, I love him.”

“That’s all?” Logan’s eyebrows lift as he sneers - ignoring another reference he doesn’t understand, “Been going at it for a while.”

As soon as he says it, he regrets it. Opening himself up for an attack. He can already hear the sing-song response at the admittance that he’s been listening.

Screwing the Pavlovian pooch, with the way that he's more than aware that his dick’s half-hard. The result of taking care of himself one too many times - an attempt at getting himself back to sleep, pretending that he isn’t jerking himself off to the beat of the frame that bangs against the walls.

Luckily, Wade zeros in on the exact wrong part. Sputtering, as water drips down his chin, “That’s all? What do you mean, that’s all?”

“You heard me,” The paper crinkles in his fist, “In fact, I’m surprised you even got round one off. Much less that she’s sticking around for another.”

“You wound me, and yet, flatter.” Wade’s hand flattens over his heart, “I never knew you thought about me like that.”

“I haven’t been thinking about you, you ass,” Logan snarls, teeth bared, “I just know that if you’re talking, then you’re not doing it right.”

Wade grins at that, teeth scraping over his lower lip as they stretch wide.

Eyes flicking over his form, assessing in a way that has Logan bristling - voice going syrupy-smooth, “Is that right? You think you can do better, mutton chops?”

The breath he inhales is ragged. That feeling back again - an urge to curl his hand around Wade’s throat, and squeeze.

“Yeah,” Logan growls out, “Yeah, I fucking do.”

The table shakes as Wade plops himself down on the edge, a leg crossing over the other. Interest gleaming in his eyes as his head tilts towards the bedroom door.

“Alright. Bring on the magic tricks, Angier.” His hands splay wide, wiggling, “Gonna show me how to make your fingers disappear?”

Logan glares, his eyes flicking down to where the fleece pulls across his hips.

“Right.” He spits, “Like you’ve got another in you?”

“Hey now, pookums. Marvel Jesus, remember?” Wade’s hand makes a sweeping gesture in front of his crotch, “Just give me three minutes and I’ll have risen.”

“That’s disgusting.” Logan barks, “And get off the table.”

If anything, it makes Wade sit harder. His legs pivoting until he can spread his thighs on either side of the paper, ankles dangling off the edge.

“Disgusting?” His tone pitches up, “Says the man that’s rocking a stiffy. Gonna jerk it at the breakfast table when I leave? You know Blind Al eats there.”

The paper twitches reflexivity in his hands, and Wade’s smile pulls wider as Logan shoots him a death glare, lips curling over teeth.

“Why the fuck would I do something like that?”

Wade hums, “Call it an educated wish.”

“Call it an educated get-the-fuck-out-of-here.” Logan scoffs. His eyes flicking towards the bedroom, the door still shut, “You’re talking like she wants this.”

Wade’s finger presses at the edge of the newspaper he’s hiding behind, and Logan bats his hand away.

He’s still not gotten used to all the skin, he doesn’t know where to look. The slightest shift back in his chair, but he’s already pressed up against the wall.

“Oh please, as if we don’t take turns roleplaying as you,” Wade sighs longingly, “This would be a wet dream come true.”

His eyes narrow then, as his tongue runs across his lip. Voice dropping again, coaxing.

“Look,” Wade says it like he’s leveling with him - talking man-to-man,“If you wanted to fuck her, peanut, all you had to do was ask.”

And for a moment, Logan truly considers it. Not just the fantasy that’s been playing through his head for weeks.

Weirder shit has happened, he supposed.

He’s already been claw-deep into Wade’s guts. A brawl in that shitty van that lasted until morning. Bound tip-to-tip in the void for god knows how long.

Getting walked in on in the bathroom at least twice in the last month. A gleeful “mind if I cut in?”, before Logan’s fist is sending him into the vanity.

The last time it took a full week to get the sink fixed.

Not to mention that Wade apparently seems so certain that his clothes were now their clothes.

So fucking keen on sharing.

So it wasn’t a stretch to think he might want to share you, too.

There’s something caught between his teeth, heavy on his tongue. About to loosen, when the door is opening.

Swallowing them down as you step through, thighs bare under a too-big t-shirt. Arms wrapping around Wade’s shoulders as your lips press against his cheek.

“Thought you were coming back, Red.” You coo. Drawn out by the sound of bickering as you had basked in your afterglow.

“Morning, Logan.” A smile sent his way after, turning sheepish, “You’re up early. Hope we didn’t wake you.”

He grunts in reply. Pretending there wasn’t a little jolt in his stomach at the sound of his name. That he hadn’t been thinking about spreading you across this table, lifting the hem of your shirt up-

If he’d been in your bed, no one would have had to wonder.

The whole damn floor would’ve been woken up.

“He thinks I fuck bad, so I’m gonna prove he’s wrong,” Wade adds in, cheerfully, “That okay with you, gorgeous?”

Logan glares over the top of his paper. A rough clearing in his throat as your eyebrows lift, glancing his way.

He hadn’t really meant to bring you into this, or at least, that’s what he’s telling himself.

That eye contact dropping, as you lean into Wade, your chin propped on his shoulder, “Is that right? How are you going to do that?”

Logan’s answer comes out flat, as he examines an ad in the bottom corner of the page,“I’m not doing anything.”

Wade sighs, his head knocking back against your shoulder.

“Come on, Wolvie. I would love for you to prove me wrong,” He needles, digging deep, “Put your money where my cock should be.”

Logan still doesn’t look up, “Not interested, I’m busy.”

The sigh that pulls from his lungs is long, a near-whine.

“What, with reading?” He exclaims, “Jesus you really are old. The retirement home called, they’re missing a resident.”

Logan’s eyes snap up now, narrowing, “Fuck. Off.”

With a sigh, Wade fucks off. Legs curling, until he’s rolling off the table. Your hand fitting in his, a water bottle tucked under your arm as you head back towards the room.

“The offer still stands!” He calls.

A beat, before you turn.

“Logan?” You call, as he’s helpless - his eyes pulling away. Drawn to you.

A little wink sent his way. Your finger gesturing towards his chest, as you smile.

“Your paper’s upside down.”

Logan’s still not quite sure how he got here. His feet moving on his own, fingers catching the bedroom door just as it starts to close.

Almost backing out when he sees the look of Wade’s face, pleased as fucking punch.

Standing by the edge of the bed now, as you kneel on it in front of him. Fingers slipping across his chest - curious, with the way your eyes flicker over his face. Eager, though you hide it well.

“So what exactly did you tell Wade to get him so worked up?” Your fingers twine around his neck, as his find your hips.

He hums at that - flicking towards his roommate before they find yours again.

“All I said was that if I can hear his mouth running from out there,” Logan’s fingers dent into soft skin, tugging you closer, “He can’t be doing a good job.”

There’s a shift off to the side. Wade sinking down into the beanbag chair he pulled up,“Can you believe that? As if I don’t have a good grade in my oral and my dickabilties.”

“A fucking gold star, babe.” You shoot him a tender smile, before they focus on Logan again. Shoulder lifting, as your grin grows, “I mean, Merc with a Mouth, right? Seems like part of the package.”

He huffs, eyes dropping to your lips.

“You think it’s good,” Logan’s tone is almost pitying, “But it’s only because you haven’t had better.”

That pulls a gasp from your throat, eyebrows lifting.

“Yeah, I think you’re trying to emasculate me, but honestly…” Wade’s hand splays wide over his crotch, “Sploosh.”

“Sploosh.” You echo softly, and he can feel you shift closer. Can smell the fresh curl of arousal that heats your skin, as his hands ghost higher. A small smile, as your head tilts, “So you just all talk then, or…”

“No.” Logan scoffs, “No, I’m not.”

He closes the gap, more certain now. Mouth pressing against yours, as you squeak - tense in his arms, until you go liquid.

Soft tits pressed to his chest as his tongue sweeps against your lips. Swallowing a pretty moan as they part for him, his own groan rumbling in his chest as his hands wander.

Slipping down, ghosting against skin. Feeling the goosebumps that rise, as he draws circles against your hip. His name whimpered, and it shoots straight to his cock.

Not even a heartbeat, before the chatter begins.

“Bet your pussy’s wet already, isn’t it baby?” He coos, “A kiss like that, it’s even got me a little worked up. And I’m just producing this show.”

Logan’s eyes crack open as he glares, “You’re not producing shit, asshole.”

“Ooh, I bet you SO wish you worded that in a different way-”

You huff against his mouth, your touch guiding him back. The thought lingers, curiosity burning. Letting his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, knuckles brushing your thigh.

Tracing around to the curve of your ass, his wide palm splaying out, then squeezing against bare flesh.

“Is he right?” He rasps, his lips brushing against yours. Half-hating that he’s letting Wade get in his head, but the thought-

You gasp again, and his teeth flash with his smirk, “Are you wet for me already, sweetheart?”

“She’s been since she first saw you. Goddamn Niagara Falls,” Wade’s voice has softened - teasing now, “Isn’t that right, gorgeous?”

An amused shake of your head, as something silent passes between them. Logan doesn’t pretend to know how your relationship works - other than the fact that Wade was willing to do anything to save this world for you.

And that there’s something inside him that tightens - a flicker in his belly - whenever he looks at you. Whenever Wade flirts with him. That sharp annoyance from their meeting slowly bleeding out with each day goes by.

Something else taking root, the more time he spends with both of you. He’s not good with his emotions. Doesn’t want to name that ache when he saw you together.

A silent wish, with his shifting daydreams. With the jerk of his fist in the morning. Imaging you in his bed, at first. And then, more - two sets of hands. Two mouths at his cock, and then he’s suddenly coming harder than he has before.

He’s become greedy, the more you both give him.

“Show me.” It’s a command, soft and low.

Logan can feel your thighs press together, that little squirm. Tucking this new discovery away as you lean back, eyes dark with desire.

The briefest hesitance, before your fingers loosen from him. Slipping down, under the hem of your shirt. The nails on your other hand bite into his shoulder as you sigh - two fingers gliding through the wet folds of your pussy.

Pulling them back for him to see. Glistening, your arousal stringing between them. His hand is already curling around your wrist. No resistance as he tugs - guiding your fingers past his lips as they part.

Sucking the sweet taste of you as he groans, deep in his chest. Eyes fixed on yours so he can see the way yours widen, feeling how your fingers flex against the swipe of his tongue.

“Logan.” You sigh his name, and it only makes his moan - eyes shutting as you press down against his tongue. The need slipping into your voice, pleading.

“I wanna feel your mouth. Show me, too,” You sigh, as you slip from him, “Show me what you meant.”

Christ, he’s been aching for this. Eager to drown himself in your pussy, if you’d let him.

There’s a sharp clap that forces his eyes open. Wade’s enthusiasm as he drags the bag closer, chin cradled in his hands.

“Yeah, Logan. You gonna show us your dickabilites, or what?”

He shoots him a withering look. Softening before he turns to you, his chin tipping up.

“Lay back on the bed for me, sweetheart.”

You listen so sweetly, and it makes his cock throb. A quick dart of your eyes over to your boyfriend, who only nods.

“Take that off, baby,” Wade coos, “Show him how pretty you are.”

He’s not sure when he started letting Wade make orders, but for once he’s not wanting to argue about his suggestions.

Because fuck, you are pretty. No arguing with that.

Letting his eyes sweep over every inch that is revealed, as you lift the hem of your shirt. The curve of your hips, your soft tits that he can’t wait to get his mouth on.

Baring yourself, as you lean back against the pillows. His eyes are fixed on your cunt, already fitting himself between your thighs. Fingers reaching - ready to part you open. Taste you himself, bury his tongue inside you.

Your hand reaches out, pushing against his shoulder.

“Wait, you too.” You pout, “Let’s play fair, okay?”

He huffs, lips quirking. Hands catching the hem as he tugs his own shirt off, Wade diving for it as he tossed it towards the floor.

Twin gasps rise, and if he was a much younger man, he may have blushed.

“Fuck.” Wade groans, a hand dropping down his crotch and squeezing.

You’re already leaning forward, a hand flattening against his skin. A soft "wow" slipping from your lips - feeling the way his muscles jump as you slide over his pecs, the thick hair covering them.

A hand hooking around his shoulder - a smirk hidden as you tug him down on top of you.

Soft, beneath him. Those needy whines he loves so much caught between your teeth as he noses at your neck. Teeth nipping at skin, an urge to leave a mark for later.

That cry finally loosened as he moves down. Teeth and tongue biting and soothing at the tight peaks of your nipples. Broad hands cupping and squeezing, liking the way they fit in his palms. The way you moan, arching into his touch.

“Give me more of that,” He murmurs against your skin, "I want to hear you."

Your body tensing beneath his when he settles between your thighs. They have to spread, to fit his shoulders. Opening you up, putting you on display.

Watching how you clench - a throaty chuckle as his thumb presses just shy of your folds. Tugging you open, seeing how your skin glistens with slick already.

“Pretty fucking sight, you know that?” His eyes flip up to yours.

You’re propped up on your elbows. Teeth sinking into your lip, breath held as your eyebrows slant in anticipation. Lips parting with his words, a minute shift of your hips.

“You should see it when it’s stuffed full. Boston cream's got nothing on her."

There’s an embarrassed groan of his name. Logan ignores him - letting his thumb rub against the tight nub of your clit, instead. Your word turning into a sharp, inhaled breath.

Teasing, each circle achingly slow. Aware of the two sets of eyes on him, burning his skin. A low ache in his belly, his glaze fixing on yours, watching as you inhale as his mouth lowers.

A soft lick, tongue lapping against your slit. Tasting you more thoroughly, dragging against soaked skin, as his fingers tease at your entrance.

Focusing on your clit, tight flicks with his tongue. Letting his lips suck on the tight bud, as he sinks down to one knuckle, then another. A second finger slipping in once you get used to him, making room for himself as he scissors you open.

He can hear the soft, wet sound of your cunt, with each plunge of his fingers. Flexing and curling them until he can feel you clamp down.

The quiet sounds you make - soft breaths and gasps - turning louder. Panting now, as you whine. Hips lifting to meet the curl of his tongue, until he pulls back.

“Should be hearing this,” Logan grits out. A quick glance towards Wade as his fingers pound into you, “Not you talking out of your ass.”

There’s silence for a long moment, the words coming out distracted.

“You talk about my ass an awful lot for a man who pretends he's not interested,” Wade manages, slowly, “You change your mind about that, too?”

His breath shallow, as Logan growls in annoyance. Attention returning back to you. Fingers working faster, head dropping again to tongue at your clit.

A leg hooks over his shoulder - a heel digging into his back, tugging him closer. Logan loses himself - growling into your pussy. His own hips pressing down into the bed, as he tugs at his belt and button, relieving the too-tight ache of denim.

Feeling how you leak against his palm, tighten around his fingers. Chase that winding pleasure as you arch into his mouth. A hand drifting off the bed, reaching. Grasping.

“Logan.” You’re begging again, pleading. For more, for anything. For him not to stop, and he leans into the way you tug at his hair, guiding him to the right spot.

You come with your fingers entwined with Wade’s. With your thighs clamped against Logan's ears as he rips a cry from you - long and loud - threatening to suffocate him.

Would be the way he’d choose to die, if he could.

The sounds come flooding back, as your thighs loosen. Boneless and languid, your smile wide as your fingers trace his scruff, the sharp curve of his jaw.

Perhaps he was wrong, to think he could silence Wade entirely. Your orgasm has only made him more vocal - complaints about how “fucking hard he is” mixing with rambling praise.

“Wilson.” He finds himself growling. Beckoning with two fingers, as Wade practically springs from the bag.

“Oh my GOD,” Wade is gushing, clambering onto the bed with him, “This is way better than joining the Avengers. Even if they do have Thor.”

“Huge praise.” You smile drunkenly, pushing yourself up to press your mouth against his.

And under his direct instructions, Logan finds that Wade almost listens.

“Get on your back,” He points, as you scooch to make room.

"Ooh, dirty." Wade grins, splaying out on his back, hands tucked under his head.

“No,” Logan makes a frustrated sound - ignoring another comment. A twirl of his finger, “The other way.”

His head is cradled near your hips now, legs stretched out toward the pillows.

Logan’s next words are a growl, “Now, clean her up.”

Wade groans, as he catches up.

“Fuck.” He whines, “Yeah. Come here, baby.”

Hands guiding you into place, your knees framing his head, as you face towards the headboard. Wade’s mouth already tipping up to meet you, a soft moan as his tongue swipes against your slit.

“I don’t want to hear you until she comes.” Logan rasps, and he can see the way Wade’s hips lift.

Just now catching the darkened fabric, where it tents.

Another thing to catalog.

Content for now to let his hands drift as he stands behind you at the edge of the bed, his chest pressing to your back. Sucking a mark in the hollow under your ear, feeling the buzz of your whine against his lips.

Hands cupping your breasts again, feeling their weight. Pinching at the tight peaks, before his thumb is smoothing over them.

Your eyes are blown wide, fingers curling against your thighs. Panting as the overstimulation tips towards pleasure, the feel of the sweet mouth below you soft and familiar.

Shifting as you sit, rocking back to where Logan’s cock presses against your lower back. His hands tugging at the zipper, shoving his jeans down as he works himself free. Kicking them off, after.

You gasp when you see him from over your shoulder, and he can’t help the way he twitches in his hand at the sound. Can’t pretend he isn’t leaking from tasting you, his cock heavy as he lets go to let it hang between his thighs.

“Fuck, that’s not fair.” It’s muffled, and you hum in agreement as Wade lifts you to get a better look, “God didn’t make you perfect enough as-is? Just had to make you proportional, you goddamn stallion.”

A derisive sound as his arm wiggles out from under you, fingers reaching.

“And Jesus H. Christ, look at the girth-”

Logan bats his hand away.

It should annoy him. That Wade isn’t listening. That he’s commenting on his cock - but it doesn’t.

Can’t help but think that in here, in this room, the chatter isn’t so bad. Would never admit that he’s wrong, just that when he’s admiring and not on a dumb-as-fuck tangent, it’s almost - flattering.

Maybe that’s too far. Tolerable, perhaps.

“You want my mouth?” You offer sweetly, breaking into his thoughts. Hungrily.

There’s a flash of white teeth as Logan smiles. A hand pressing gently against your back, until you’re stretched out over Wade.

“No. I’m still gonna fuck you, baby.” He rasps, “Just wanted a little peace and quiet while doing it.”

You moan, thighs inching wider. Head turned so you can watch the way he moves behind you. Adjusting your hips until your ass is in the air, his fingers gripping the base of his cock as he lines himself up.

“Keep going, Wilson.” He grits out, when the man goes still beneath them.

A rough chuckle rattles.

“Not a fucking chance, human tripod. I am SO watching this.”

Fuck it. He lets him.

Letting the tip of his cock press against your entrance. Wade’s arms curling around your thighs, holding you in place as you string tight above him.

“God, it’s even bigger from this angle. Feels like I’m in a goddamn eclipse right now.”

“Why do you sound surprised, babe?” Your voice is strained. Face buried against Wade’s stomach, fingers curled in the sheets, “I thought you guys fucked in the void.”

That fleeting curl of warmth leaves him.

“We what?” Logan growls, leaning back to glare at the peek of dark brown eyes, the top of a bald head he wants to slap.

Teeth bared, as he snarls, “We didn’t fuck. I beat the shit out of him in a goddamn van.”

“All night long.” Wade laughs - and then sighs fondly, “And isn’t that just the same thing?”

Fingers encircle his cock from below before he can retort, squeezing. A tug as he guides him into the tight clench of your pussy, and Logan thinks he really should just shove his claws into Wade’s dick.

But that desire bleeds away, as you stretch around him. The twin groans from beneath him, the sounds blending together.

“Oh,” You moan, clenching around him. Back arching, as he slips in another inch, “Makes sense. Was… was just wondering why it took you so long to join us.”

Logan goes still for a moment, with this new information. A realization that he could have had this the whole time, if he had asked.

That Wade hadn’t been joking before.

He groans, hips snapping forward. A grunt below as your knees squeeze against Wade’s throat, but from the way you squirm, Logan can tell that his mouth is at work again.

Teasing at your clit, as his own hips slowly start to move. Feet planting on the bedroom floor as his hands fit against his waist.

Using the leverage to drive himself deep. Hips flush as his balls slap against your skin, growing sticky with your release.

“This is hot, this is so fucking hot,” Wade groans, babbling as he sucks in a breath, “I’m so going to jerk my dick raw thinking about this later.”

And with the reminder, he supposes he can throw his roommate a bone.

“Come on, baby,” Logan rasps - reaching. A little nudge against your chin, angling your head, “Looks like he needs a little help.”

It’s benevolent. It’s selfish - his fingers biting into skin as you realize what he means. Watching as you tug at the waistband of Wade’s sweatpants, pushing them down.

The man moans, from between your thighs. Sweet nothings mumbled as your hand wraps around his cock, angling it into your waiting mouth.

Watching how the leaking tip presses into your cheek. The buck of his hips as you fist moves, while you suck - your spit slicking up his cock.

It looks like the rest of him. Mottled skin, the tip flushed a deeper shade of red. Long and thick in your hand - Logan’s cock throbbing at the way you swallow him down, how your lips part to make him fit.

His pace picking up. Pounding into your tight, wet cunt as Wade groans against your clit. Tongue lapping and licking, winding you higher as Logan drives you towards a second.

Slowly drifting, as the flicks of his tongue grow longer. The tip pressing against your folds, as you groan around his cock.

Further down. Tasting the tang of your release - the salt of skin where you’re split open, stretched wide.

And then further. Logan jerks, as something wet drags along his shaft.

“Wade.” It comes out as a rough growl. Pitching into a huffing whine when it happens again, flattening against the heavy weight of his balls.

Choking him, as his rhythm stutters. Hips flexing into you as he grinds himself flush, teeth gritting.

“Fuck.” It’s hushed, pulled from his lungs.

Having to find himself again - hold back the urge to come right that second - as you squirm beneath him. Wade’s tongue traveling from your clit to the tight seam of his sack, his hips rocking in your mouth.

Finding a rhythm together, Logan’s head tilting back. The room filled with lewd sounds of their joining, of wet mouths and the rhythmic pounding of the headboard against the wall.

Lucky that Al was out for the morning, or else they’d never hear the end of it.

Your cries pitch up, as his cock drags against the spot his fingers found. Something clenching deep in his guts, eyes dragging down to how you look wrapped around him. The pink peek of tongue beneath, how the combination makes his toes curl.

Imagining another morning. Sharing you in another way, his cock buried in your ass while your lover fills your cunt. Whimpering between them, unable to form words.

The sound you make now are not that different - the cadence of your panting is one he’s coming to recognize.

“You close, sweetheart?” He rasps, arcing over you, “Can feel your pussy clenching around me. So fucking tight, can’t wait to feel you come all over my cock.”

It pulls a moan from you, head lifting from Wade’s cock. Resting against his stomach, as your hand wraps around him. The jerk of your fist messy, off rhythm.

“Yeah, you are.” Logan hums, as his hips rut into you, “Come on, Wilson. Make our girl come.”

There’s a rough groan. Wade listens for once, head tilting to suck at your clit. Logan concentrating on the angle that makes you cry out, a hand fisting in the sheets.

Their names a mumbled mess on your lips, as you’re yanked higher and higher. Your moans pitching up, growing louder.

Just like his dreams. Even better, really.

“Please,” You whine, “I’m, I’m-”

A high-pitched gasp, then, as your face buries against Wade’s hips. As your pussy clamps down around his cock, fluttering with the steady saw of his hips.

“Good fucking girl.” The praise is soft, as his thumbs rub circles against your skin, “That’s it, let him taste how sweet you are.”

Working together, the tight licks against your clit going lazy again. Dipping to your entrance to taste your release against his shaft, Wade’s cock leaking and bobbing against his stomach.

Drawing out your pleasure, until the stars fade from your half-lidded eyes. Until the rushing in your veins ebb, and the pulse around his cock fades.

A low sigh, before Logan’s reaching - his chin tucking against your shoulder. His hand curling around yours, guiding it back to Wade's cock.

“Don’t forget about him.” Another command, but gentle this time. His hand moving with yours, palm mapping your knuckles as he sets a rhythm, “There you go.”

He could let go. You’ve found yourself again, eyes hazy. But he keeps his hand there. Keeps a pace that is so much firmer than your own, his own hips matching the rhythm as he chases his own end.

Wade’s groan replaces yours. A hand leaving your thigh to wrap around his, biting down hard into muscle. It only drives him deeper into you. Logan’s own moan bitten back as the tongue against his dick slips against his sack again.

Then against the thin layer of skin just behind, teasing.

“Fuck.” It’s a rough growl.

His hand works faster, teeth gritting. Feral sounds caught in his throat, as the pressure in his belly grows.

The last thing he sees before he comes is the drips of white against his knuckles. The warmth, a ragged groan against the inside of his thigh. Your mouth closing around to catch the rest, taking Wade’s cock into your throat with a soft sigh.

It robs him of his breath. A shuddering moan, as he grinds himself deep. Spilling into you again and again with each pulse of his cock, blood rushing in his ears.

Legs threatening to give as he empties himself, as his chest presses flush against your back. His face buried in your hair, as your tongue traces his knuckles. Cleaning them, as he did for you.

When he can, Logan eases from you with a grunt. Watching how you gape, then clench, now empty.

A bead of his release welling up, dripping against your skin. You go to move, but Wade’s hands curl around your calves - pulling you flush.

It’s hard to look away, as he licks away Logan’s come. A sharp ache of desire with the sound of a needy groan, as his tongue dipping inside.

Maybe Wade doesn’t have such a bad mouth, after all.

Logan’s arm is numb, but he can’t bring himself to move. Can’t remember a time when he’d let his brain turn off like this. A brief moment of silence, and it’s bliss. His world standing still.

“So that’s how you do it.” You muse quietly, dizzily. Head cradled against his chest - fingers dragging through the hair, gently scratching.

A stirring on his other side, where Wade is using his bicep like a pillow.

“Mm, I don’t think I got it,” Wade counters, but it’s soft - hazy at the edges. “Think I missed a couple steps. Was that round two or three?

"Three," You say - as Logan grunts, "Two."

The fingers on his chest drift down, dipping over his stomach.

“Well, either way...” You hum, snuggling a little closer, “Maybe you oughta show us, one more time.”

Wade flips over then, chin propped in his hand, “At least. Maybe even twice. We’re bad learners, peanut. Dumb as fucking rocks, really.”

“Mhmm,” You sigh, “Really dumb. Can't even count.”

And he can’t stop the twitch of his lips, even with his eyes closed. Had forgotten what it was like to be warm like this.

To be wanted.

And maybe, he even feels… content.

Something he never thought he’d be, again.

thank you so much for reading! it means so much and I am so happt to be dipping my toes into these pairings💖

#crème de la crème #spicy stuff

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husbandohoarder · 1 month

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LOGAN HOWLETT is the kind of guy that likes to fuck up into you during cowgirl. lend me your ears, so I can tell you how

[18+ fem!reader]

sorry I lied, I didn’t get him out my system. one more

The gentle, inconsistent rocks from your straddled position is far from what he needs – the slow motion of your hips winding over his cock, not nearly enough to satiate his current heaping want.

He’s held himself back for as long as he can, only spurring you along with his hands on your hips, his grip helping you with the irregular circles. He wanted to give you your time to shine, to let you give him something, but it was clear you were starting to reach your end. Though not in the way he wanted, your bent knees by his sides mere minutes away from giving in.

You looked quite spectacular from his laid position, a true sight. Your palms flat to his stomach, your tits caught between your upper arms – squeezing them together in that way he always likes. And those faces you make, boy does he love those. The ones filled with nothing but unadulterated bliss: knitted brows, soft eyes, bitten lips – all of it, all so perfect.

As much as he loves the lewd view and looking up at you while you attempt to ride him, he can’t help but notice that eager twitch in his cock, the one saying that he needed more. And when his gaze leaves your breasts and meets your face, he can see that same glimmer of desperation in your eyes, just like the one in his dick.

And so, when you nod, agreeing to the silent, optic communication – he takes the hint, moving his hands up to your mid back to bring you down to him. Your chest pressed to his, the patch of hair skimming at your skin.

You support your weight on your forearms beside his head, using all strength to keep yourself propped up, stability buckling as he begins to wind up into you. His knees bending at your sides as a way to further aid his fucking, keeping sturdy while he makes up for what you’ve both been missing.

He keeps his hands on you, large fingers pawing and digging into your hips – holding you there, just there to fuck into you from underneath. The sticky, incessant, slapping noise of him rutting in your cunt told you all you needed to know. He was desperate.

And with your face buried into the crook of his neck, you only push him further into the pits of that ever growing lust-filled desperation – the choked-out, strained moans and whines beside his ear that match his thrusts, only drive the eager force further and further.

But when you reach your end, worn out and can take no more, you’d both be sure to recuperate – sat by his side against the headboard, head resting on his shoulder, an unlit cigar waiting patiently between his lips. Your hatred of the smell, stalling his smoke break, while prolonging your post-coitial cuddle.

safe to say I might be out my writers block

#crème de la crème #spicy stuff

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husbandohoarder · 1 month

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someone pls write Logan and/or Wade x afab!nonbinary!reader with age gap and size difference where they call reader a pretty boy and stuff like that I’m begging 😭😭

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husbandohoarder · 2 months

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Reunited| HellboyxGn!Reader

Hellboy x Gn! Reader

They/them pronouns

You get back early from a mission and decide to suprise Hellboy. He is escatic to see you again

NOT PROOFREAD

You have been gone for a few months on a mission and anyone at the BPRD could tell how much it had upset Hellboy. He was unresponsive to most and started leaving more often.

They attempted to fix the situation by hiring another person to keep him under wraps. This man was John Myers. Hellboy didn't mind him but he wasn't you. He hated the idea of someone replacing you.

He didn't have much time to dwell on it before they were sent out to subdue some other threat.

During the ride there Hellboy remained silent." they will be coming back you know" Abe spoke up tilting his head to look at Hellboy who continue to look out the one way window. Hellboy slowly turned his head " Don't get physic with me Fella" Hellboy replied his voice getting snippy." Nothing Physic about it. You're easy"

____________

Your trip had ended early and you were on your way back to the BPRD a month before you were expected to be back. While in your cab you contact Professor Broom you were on your way back and to not tell anyone. You wanted to suprise Hellboy.

" Guess they're out" you mumble, walking into the BPRD and setting your bags down. You wander around seeing what had changed, not much did. While you were walking back to the main area you heard a small meow. You bent down and looked up a book case. That's where you saw a little kitten. Poor thing looked terrified. You reach under and pulled it out holding it gently in your arms.

" what are you doing out here honey?" You asked petting the kitten who still meowed loudly crawling near your face. " have you guys been fed yet?" You walk down the hall to where you remembered Hellboys room to be.

You open the door and are met with countless hungry felines. You feed them and shower them with love before you hear the main door open.

You hurry out to meet the group returning. You distinctly hear a familiar voice. You move out with open arms and a big smile

" Suprise!" You call out before your smile falters " Jesus H.B what happened" the man was bloodied and battered. Hellboy hardly seems to notice was condition he's in after he saw you.

He stumbles over nearly falling on his way there. It wasn't until you go to him and help hold in up when he's able to steady himself " Y/N! You're back!" Hellboy exclaims a big grin

John leaned over to Abe whispered " Who's that?" He asked.

" Hellboys other 'Nanny' " he responded as John nodded

" Let's go fix you up. You look like a wreck" you continue to hold him upright as you make your way to the infirmary.

" I thought you said you'd survive with me gone" you asked as he lets out a dry laugh " I'm alive ain't I?"

" Hardly, you look like a train wreck, I just got back and you're already stressing my out" you smiled despite your clear worry. He reached over a tilted your head up to face him. Oh those soft golden eyes made you weak. You let out a soft sigh.

" I missed you"

" missed you too"

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husbandohoarder · 2 months

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i rewatched hellboy (2004) recently and was reminded of how much i love the guy, so you guys get nearly 2k worth of smut. yay! based on the prompt aspectabund - letting emotion show easily through the face and eyes from this list. enjoy!

MINORS DNI

a bright match, a heat wave (hellboy x gender neutral!reader, hellboy)

He catches you as you’re leaving the library - quite literally, in fact, scooping you into his arms so quickly you barely have time to react.

“Red!” You try for a stern tone, but there’s no disguising the exasperated fondness creeping in on the fringes of your voice. You cradle your bounty from the library against your chest and wish you had a hand free to poke at the demon’s chest - not the most effective method of attack against someone like Red, but at least it would get your disapproval across. “Don’t you think this is a bit of an overreaction? I can carry a few books.”

“And I can carry you,” Hellboy returns, lips quirked. He’s careful about not jostling your arm or the bulky cast it’s currently housed in, and whatever annoyance you might have felt at his coddling fizzles away. Ah well. The books were a little heavy.

It had only been a few days since you’d been more or less suspended from active duty, left to ride a desk until your arm healed, and already the boredom was setting in, leaving you feeling listless and more than a little stir-crazy.

You wouldn’t mind a little company. Wouldn’t mind Red’s company, in fact. Not that you’ll give him the satisfaction of confirming that thought aloud - it would go straight to the brash demon’s head, you knew.

He already seemed far too smug for your liking, no doubt enjoying the looks the other agents were sending the two of you before quickly dispersing from your path.

As he takes a swift left, the corridors quickly growing more deserted, you shoot him a knowing glance that does little to break his stride. “This isn’t the way to my room, Hellboy.”

Hellboy hums thoughtfully. “Isn’t it?”

You huff a laugh. “Red - “

“Alright, alright.” He shoots you a glance, though there’s little guilt to be found there even after getting caught in a ruse. “Your place is too cramped for me and somebody needs to keep an eye on you. The way I see it, I’m killin’ two birds with one stone.”

Your face warms. From anyone else, you’d take the words as a jab against your competence, but from Hellboy, you knew them for what they really were. Concern.

“And that somebody has to be you, I take it?” you tease him, only to be met by the slanted smirk you publicly bristle at but secretly love so much.

“Damn straight, sweetheart,” he gruffs, hefting you further into his arms. You hide your smile against his chest, and hold on for the ride.

The clock ticks over from 11:59 to midnight. You idly turn a page in your book, trying to focus on the next passage, but it’s a lost cause with Hellboy tucked between your legs, hands wrapped loosely around your thighs and squeezing in time with your breaths.

You glance up, and that’s when you see it - Hellboy watching you, his eyes - usually blazing with bravado or cocky surety - dark with concern. Worry, for you.

He had hovered over you all night, making certain that you didn’t lift a finger unless absolutely necessary, and lingering over your shoulder even then. You found it sweet, if a little overbearing, how dearly he seemed to need the reassurance that you were alright. You knew you would be in the same position - had been in the same position - if the demon were injured.

“Red,” you murmur, drawing those yellow eyes to yours. Your lips curl into a gentle smile, book forgotten on your chest. “It’s just a broken arm.”

“I know,” Hellboy assures you, though his attempt at nonchalance is ruined by the firming of his grip around your thighs. “Coulda been worse,” he adds, almost as an afterthought, but the expression on his face betrays how often the thought must have crossed his mind.

“Coulda been,” you agree, because you both know the risks involved in the work you do. You reach up to touch his jaw with your uninjured hand, fingertips grazing his skin. “Come here.”

It’s all the coaxing Hellboy needs, and your sigh as his chest settles against yours is a deep one. He’s careful not to crush you or touch your injured arm, just as you knew he’d be, and you smile. “See?” you tease gently, palm warm against his chiseled jaw. “All good. All in one piece.”

“Says you,” Hellboy grunts, slumping into your hold, tail twining around your calf. The grip around your thighs never falters, both his human and stone hand wrapped securely around you, alternating between squeezing your flesh and sinking rough, red fingertips into your skin. It soothes him, to have his hands full of you, to feel for himself the truth of your existence, the warm give of your skin, the soft catch of your breath. Soothes you, too.

“Don’t believe me?” You push lightly against his hold, letting him feel the heat of you, the firmness and pressure of warm, living flesh. Watching his eyes go dark and hearing the sharp breath that hisses through his teeth kicks your own pulse up a notch.

“You tryin’ to start something?” There’s a deliberate nonchalance to his voice, but it’s ruined by the way his fingers twitch against your thighs and his tail winds just a little tighter around your calf.

“It has been a while,” you tease him. A necessary evil, back when you’d first gotten injured, and certainly not helped by Red’s stubborn refusal to engage in any activity that might threaten your recovery.

Hellboy huffs, gently knocking your forehead with his. “Don’t want to hurt ya,” he admits, his tail squeezing at your thigh. He can’t quite meet your eye when he says it, not until you wrap your hand around his jaw and guide his gaze to yours.

He’s always been better at doing rather than saying, his brash attitude a smokescreen that he tends to hide behind when any sort of deep emotion comes into play.

Easier to hide behind cocksure remarks and pithy jokes when your heart’s on the line, you think fondly.

But there’s no denying the depth of his feelings here, not with that tender, aching expression on his face, the desire darkening his eyes to a smoky amber.

“We’ll go slow,” you tell him, and the smoke in his eyes sparks into a flame. You wrap your fingers around the back of his neck, feeling the chords flex as you pull him closer, sharing breath. “Yeah?”

Hellboy shudders, his chest hitching against yours, and pushes a hard kiss to the corner of your mouth. His breath huffs through his teeth, eyes squeezing shut for a short, sharp moment before they open again in search of yours. In the dim glow of his television screens, his gaze seems to burn. “Yeah.”

It’s easy, then, easy to allow Hellboy to press you down into the mattress, mouth hot against yours and heavy palms slipping beneath your shirt, easing it over your chest and free of your shoulders. Your sleep pants and underwear follow, until you’re left nude, legs shuffling restlessly along the mattress.

“You too,” you mumble, and Hellboy smirks as he reaches for the zip of his leather pants. You help him with what little coordination remains to you with only one working arm, and then you’re both finally, blessedly bare.

Hellboy’s cock stands at stiff attention, a bead of precome already wetting the tip and as scorchingly red as the rest of him. You curl eager fingers around the base and nearly weep at the familiar, heavy weight of him, dragging the circle of your fist up the length and spreading slick on your way back down.

“Fuck,” Red rumbles, yellow eyes burning. He ruts shallowly into your palm once, twice, three times before he forces his hips to still and gently tugs your hand away from his length, reaching for a pillow to tuck beneath your hips.

Your breath catches, knowing what’s coming, and before his head disappears between your thighs, you catch the cocky curl of Hellboy’s lips, knowing he heard your reaction and is relishing in it.

You’re glad Hellboy’s room is so far removed from the rest of the Bureau, if only because it’s impossible to muffle your moans as Hellboy works you open, first with his tongue, dragging achingly slow along your entrance, and then with lube-slick fingers, easing between your legs and pressing inside until you’re fit to bursting, burning, aching, and so full.

And then he’s tugging you up and into his arms, wrapping a heavy stone hand around your hip to help guide you onto his length. You hiss as the tip bumps against your entrance, leaking precome and burning hot, and then beginning the arduous task of easing inside.

Your gasp of pleasure coincides with Hellboy’s rumbling groan as you sink onto his cock, inch after inch disappearing within soft, snug heat. You’ll never grow used to the fullness, you think dazedly, or the ache, and you keen softly when Hellboy finally bottoms out, the length of his cock fully encased within you, his hands squeezing at your hips in time with the pulse of his heart.

“Red.” His name is little more than a moan on your tongue. You hook your good arm around his neck, the other tucked protectively between your chests, and press a desperate kiss to his jaw, his chin, his mouth. “Oh god, Red - “

“I know, I know.” His human hand cups the back of your head, his tongue swiping at the swell of your lips, kissing you deep. “I’ve gotcha, sweetheart. I’ve gotcha.”

His stone hand guides your hips, easing you up along the length of his cock before gently tugging you back down. You cry out at the drag of it, the heat of it, the girth of it, and dig your fingers into the corded length of his neck for purchase.

He keeps his thrusts slow, falling into an aching rhythm that is all at once too much and not enough. Your lips meet in almost lazy kisses, unhurried but deep, and the brash demon curses softly whenever you take it upon yourself to drag your teeth along his bottom lip.

His stone hand spans the length of your back, rough but gloriously warm whenever it strokes along your spine or wraps around the curve of your hip. You feel the flex of his thighs as he thrusts up into you, the thick muscle bunching and extending with each slow drag of his cock inside you.

You want him to cum in you. The thought hits you like a gut punch, driving the air from your lungs and making each kiss after a desperate, clawing thing.

“Inside,” you gasp, driving your hips harder into every thrust, the slick slap of skin against skin beginning to fill the room. Already your core is throbbing, your body creeping closer to the edge. You press your lips to Hellboy’s jaw and beg him to, “Cum inside me, Red - “

“Fuck!” It’s nearly a shout, and then Hellboy’s eyes are blazing, both of his hands wrapping around your hips and his thrusts becoming harder, faster.

You keen, the air filling with the slick sounds of your joining and the smell of sex, and soon after, the garbled cry of release, ripping first from your throat and then from the demon driving into you so fervently.

You slump against Hellboy’s chest in the aftermath, limbs useless and limp, your cheek smushed against his collarbone.

“You arm?” His voice is barely more than a rumble, and you tilt your head against his shoulder, a sweet and sated smile curling your lips.

“Perfect,” you tell him, your good arm curling around his waist in a gentle embrace. Even with your injury and the bulky cast you’re forced to wear, you finally feel whole again. “Everything is perfect.”

#crème de la crème #spicy stuff

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husbandohoarder · 2 months

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Gale x Reader x Astarion anyone?

2600 words of pure unadulterated smut. NSFW below the cut

You step back and admire your work, pleased.

Gale is on the bed, very specifically he’s naked and blindfolded on the bed. He got one hand resting across his stomach fingers fidgeting anxiously, the other arm his curled up above his head - hidden beneath his hair. If you had to guess those fingers are also moving.

You breathe out a chuckle and gently squeeze his ankle in reassurance that you’re there, that you wouldn’t just leave him in such a vulnerable position. His legs aren’t bound but they’re spread as if they were, he’s large enough that both heels are resting at the bottom corners of the mattress.

His cock is in stark contrast to his anxious hands. It’s full and heavy, arched up towards his navel. It’s already dripping precum into the full thatch of hair that trails down to its base. Whatever is going on in his mind, his body is already fully on board with your plans.

You’re busy admiring the sight, making notes that you must do this over again but with much more silk next time, that when a hand comes to rest gently on your lower back - you jump.

You turn your head to look at the true source of Gale’s anxiety. Astarion leans towards you, his eyes focused on Gale.

“What a lovely sight,” he murmurs.

Gale must have heard him because his head turns in an attempt to look in the direction he had last known Asarion to be. He realizes belatedly that there is no seeing for him currently. He reaches up instead to the headboard with the hand that had been previously tangled in his hair. The two of you watch as he rubs his fingers against the wood. It’s his own bed, one that predates you and the ilithids.

He’s grounding himself but you realize you’ll need to start moving or he’ll lose his nerve and back out of this. Even though he’d been the one to initiate this whole thing.

“As much as I’d like to think I’m adventurous, I must admit it is a bit unnerving not quiet knowing precisely where you both are right now. Perhaps-”

“Perhaps,” Astarion interrupts Gale, “we should consider a gag next time as well.” Despite the bite in his words, the vampire similarly wraps his fingers around Gale’s ankle. Letting him know his exact location. Gale jumps at the sensation.

Your gaze goes unfocus as you imagine just that. It would certainly be a sight indeed.

“Naughty thing,” Astarion teases no doubt reading your thoughts.

You flash him an unashamed smile before kneeling on the bed between Gale’s legs. You place both hands on his thighs now, letting him know your exact intentions.

“Is this still okay?” You ask as you begin kneading softly into the muscle of his thighs.

He swallows before slowly nodding. “Just a bit… uncomfortable at the moment. But temporary, I’m sure,” he’s eager to assure you.

“Well, let us… remedy that.” Astarion purrs behind you.

You move first, blocking out the vampire behind you. The two of you had been intimate once a long time ago and while you’d rather not dwell on the circumstances of that time you aren’t as nervous around him as Gale is currently.

Gale gasps as you finally grab his cock, it trails off into a sigh. Gently you begin to stroke him, too soft for his liking but it immediately works as a distraction. You work him like that for a moment, free hand wandering up and down his thigh.

Once his gasps have returned, and his hips are pressing up towards your hand in an attempt to make you touch him more firmly, you lean down and take him into your mouth.

A deep groan reverberates through his chest and his hips still, but it won't last for long. You know this after months of these kinds of intimacies with Gale. The man is near incapable of being still during sex.

Astarion’s hand has returned to your back slowly slipping lower to grab at your ass. You arch your back, pressing into him. You try and keep your focus on Gale and taking as much of him into your mouth as you can. He’s touching the back of your throat already it seems.

The elf takes this moment to dip his hand lower, slipping two fingers between your folds. It’s a quick movement, his cold fingers brushing towards your clit and then almost instantly away.

You moan almost gagging on Gale, your hips pressing down chasing firmer contact. Gale’s hand smacks into the wood above his head in response to the vibrations around his shaft.

Your hand comes back up to grip him, you stroke Gale, this time the way he likes. You look over your shoulder to ineffectually glare at Astarion. He’s not at all intimidated and smirks at you boldly. His red eyes are blown wide, he’s not unaffected despite his cool demeanor.

Still pumping Gale, who’s hips are again thrusting up into your hand, you take a moment and scan Astarion’s face and eyes. You’re searching for any signs that he’s retreated, that he’s burying himself again.

He realizes what you’re doing and his smile softens. You only see the beginning of the nod as he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips. It’s a world of difference from the last one you two shared.

You break from the kiss and without warning take Gale back into your mouth. The sound that rips from him is near enough a shout that you feel Astarion’s chuckle at your back.

“So responsive,” he purrs loud enough for Gale to hear. You don’t have to look up to see that Gale is, without a doubt, blushing now.

You’re take Gale particularly deep again when you feel Astarion’s hand thread up into your hair at the back of your neck. You hesitate wondering if he’s going to push you down further, you find you’re not opposed to the idea. While Gale has no problem now grabbing at your hair he would never consider shoving you down on him.

And this time, neither does Astarion.

He does the opposite in fact. He tugs you gently upwards and you pull off of Gale with an obscene pop causing he wizard to moan loudly.

Astarion grabs the wrist and leads it back to Gale’s cock, his other hand still pulling you away from Gale. You shift, allowing him room to lean in beside you. He’s very carefully not to touch Gale anywhere right up to the moment when it’s his mouth replacing yours.

“A-a-astarion,” Gale stutters, the hand that was still on his stomach flutters in the air. For a second you think he might reach up for the blindfold with it but instead it drops with an audible smack onto his stomach again.

“All good?” You ask releasing Gale and shuffling back off the edge of the bed. Astarion wastes no time settling in.

“Better than,” Gale sighs out as Astarion begins to work him earnestly.

It’s damn near incomprehensible, the sight before you. In spite of the issues Astarion has with his past he has no issues using that knowledge to play Gale like an instrument. Gale, it appears, has forgotten how to breathe under Astarion’s skillful mouth.

Sure, he’s always been this reactive to you, but getting to just watch is a treat.

You’re behind Astarion now, he’s mimicked your previous position exactly. Down to his bracing his knees against Gale’s thighs to keep the man from pulling his legs shut. You continue to admire the view in front of you, suffocating the wave of rage when your eyes skate along the scars on Astarion’s back. So you focus on the curve of his spine instead, fingers delicately tracing the bones beneath the skin downward to the curve of his ass.

Astarion ignores you for the most part but he cannot control the ripple of muscles as your fingers push slightly between. You withdraw them. You might be crazy but you’re certainly not mean. Just a bit of magic and your digits are coated in oil.

You slip them back down, one finger presses against the tight ring as a warning. Astarion tilts his hips backwards in invitation and you slip the finger into him. You gently work your way to the goal and find the little bundle of nerves that elicits Astarion’s first unguarded moan of the night.

“My my my,” He can’t help but tease even as he rocking back onto your finger, “what surprising knowledge this is.” He breathes these word’s directly onto the tip of Gale’s cock which is weeping freely.

You’re amazed he’s not come already. New experiences always leave Gale feeling embarrassed about how quickly he finishes, though he’s ever the gentleman and ensures you find your own release.

You leave your hand still, letting Astarion control the movement. “You should talk to Gale about that,” you mean to be teasing but the words come out breathlessly.

Gale’s entire body flushes but his currently unattended cock leaps.

You simultaneously take two chances. The first being you carefully add a second finger to press inside Astarion. The second is a mock whisper into the elf’s ear.

“He’s so close,” you tell him. “In fact,” its an effort to keep your tone teasing, “he’s holding back right now. I’m impressed he didn’t come down your throat minutes ago.”

Gale’s mouth drops open, he’s clearly not sure how to respond. But every muscle in his body is drawn impossibly tight betraying whatever attempt at indignation he’s trying to screw up.

Astarion see’s this too and interestingly chooses to pull Gale back into his mouth. He swallows the wizard down to his base with an ease you almost envy. He’s still rocking back onto your fingers moaning each time your fingers brush into the sensitive spot but there is no urgency there. He’s not chasing his own release with the same fervor he’s trying to guide Gale to his.

You reach beside Astarion’s knees and drag your nails down Gale’s thighs, deeply enough the red lines raise to the surface of his skin immediately.

It’s enough.

Gale’s back bows up off the bed as he comes. Astarion hold his hips tightly enough to keep him from causing damage to his throat but he doesn’t pull off. Instead he drinks Gale down long after you know he’s spent. He also seems to have forgotten about your fingers inside of him, his body still except for his mouth.

Only once Gale has begun squirming away from Astarion does the vampire finally release him. He also pulls away from your fingers but the little moan as he does doesn’t escape you.

Gale’s hands go to the blindfold but he doesn’t yet pull it off. You take pity on him and walk around the side of the bed and rest your non-oiled fingertips lightly on the silk.

“Close your eyes,” you tell him softly. He doesn’t respond but you feel his eyelids flutter shut under your fingers and you lean over him and slide the ribbon off. He blinks lazily at you, eyes still clouded with bliss.

Without warning Astarion grabs either side of your hips, pinning your legs to the mattress with his own. “Stay, just like that,” he orders, his normally silk voice still rough from the abuse.

You freeze on instinct rather than any conscious desire to listen.

His cock presses against your entrance. “Astarion,” you whine. You’d meant it as a warning. You’re already soaked from the performance you’d witnessed but you’re still apprehensive of him pressing into you.

“Hmm,” he hums in amusement, “I do so like it when you say my name like that, both of you.”

He moves a hand and rests his wrist on your shoulder, fingers wiggling in the air asking for something.

It’s Gale voice that mutter’s the incantation that coat’s the elf’s fingers. You’re almost surprised that his grasp on magic has returned already. When you glance up at him again you see his eyes are sharp and watching the two of you with undivided attention.

Astarion doesn’t press his fingers into you instead he nosily slicks his own cock. He’s doing it that way on purpose, you’re sure of it. It’s working, you feel your knees tremble as you unconsciously push your hips backwards in a shameless attempt to seek him out.

The tip of his cock resting against your entrance for just a moment is all the warning you get before he presses into you.

“Ahh,” you cry out as he does.

He presses in firmly, unceasingly, until he’s bottomed out inside you. It’s uncomfortable, the stretch of him, but it’s so much more too. You find yourself pressing back again, chasing that almost butnotquiet painful feeling. He doesn’t let you, the hand that’s still on your hip is firm with a strength that only begins to betray his vampiric abilities.

With the same steady and undeterred pace he pulls back out until he’s almost slipped from inside of you.

And back in. And back out.

You’re head’s dropped down, forehead resting on Gale’s chest. Whimpers are punched out of you each time Astarion presses inside completely and again when he’s almost completely out. Each pass gets easier, you meet him with less resistance. You try sliding your legs apart slightly to gain ground where you can thrust back onto him, but he doesn’t let you. It’s only when he’s slipping easily in and out of you does he let you move. The noises your bodies are making cannot be just from the oil alone you realize with a moan. You’re so wet its obscene.

Astarion’s still slightly oiled fingers reach around to to where your still trapped against the edge of the bed. He expertly finds your clit and begins circling it with a similarly maddening pace as his thrusts.

There’s a hand in your hair, you dimly realize it must be Gale’s because you can feel both of Astarion’s. Gale’s stroking your hair, your neck, soothingly.

The slapping of skin on skin gets louder than the slick wet sounds of Astarion sliding in and out of you. His thrusts have gotten hard enough that your head is bouncing into Gale’s chest with each push.

You feel more than hear Gale say something, a deep rumble through his chest.

“She can take it,” Astarion assures him voice nearly as low as Gale’s, “can’t you?” He’s speaking to you now.

“Yes,” you whimper thrusting your hips back into Astarion’s.

He rewards you by switching his fingers now rubbing you with intention. Your single yes becomes a mantra, you repeat the word until it no longer sounds real.

You come with a high-pitched whine and without thought you bite Gale, sinking your teeth into the flesh of the muscle beneath your head. If he protests you don’t hear him, you don’t hear anything but the blood rushing around your body at breakneck speeds.

You feel Astarion’s release inside you more than anything else. His cock buried to the hilt as he spills, his fingertips will certainly bruise your hips now if they didn’t before.

Astarion is unexpectedly gentle as he slips from inside you. The touch of his hands now featherlight as he ensure you’re stable before he all but throws himself onto the bed at your side.

You’re all still for a while, long enough that your breathing evens out. When you finally open your eyes you find that Astarion had laid so that his head is on Gale’s other arm, his eyes are closed. And Gale, Gale is softly stroking the curls that have fallen out of place around Astarion’s face.

#spicy stuff

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husbandohoarder · 2 months

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Gale is a husband, Astarion a lover you unfortunately think about as you're about to get married, Shadowheart that gay situationship that destroys you, Karlach your best friend, Lae'zel the wife who can make you do anything and Wyll the resident golden boy everyone secretly wants

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husbandohoarder · 2 months

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BLOOD ORANGE (full)

Description: You get your period during your adventure and anxiously wonder… can Astarion tell? Why is he acting like that? Looking at you like that? Smut ensues. (Takes place before you’ve ever slept together.)

Rating: Explicit, +18, MDNI

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader

Warnings: anxiety, sexual tension, mild blood, period sex, vampire biting, blood drinking, teasing, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, porn without plot, fluff and smut

Wordcount: ~7k (~3k just smut)

Read on AO3 or below the cut ♥

Something discomforting interrupts your sleep.

Sensations filter into consciousness - stars, crickets’ songs, the hard earth beneath you, and the smell of your now ashen campfire. A dull ache and heaviness spreads down your back and through your pelvis. It's a familiar feeling; it's just your period, though that isn’t much consolation at the moment. It still might as well be a stab wound.

You shift your weight with irritation and curse to yourself. Of all the times for this to happen, now was particularly annoying. During the day, you could've found something to distract yourself. But now, you’re expected to sit still among all your peacefully sleeping companions with nothing to dampen the pain. It's already starting to feel like knives carving into your body from the inside.

When this happened weeks prior, you were able to pull Shadowheart aside and she was happy to cast a spell to alleviate the pain. Part of you would like to ask her for that again now, but you don't get the sense you’re close enough with her to wake her at this hour. It wouldn't be the end of the world... but your pride and anxiety insist that it's just not an option. She did, however, give you a blood-catching cloth that you could use for next time. That was nice of her.

You clutch at your sacrum when another painful sensation rakes through your insides. You ache to change clothes and be alone so you can groan and stretch in peace. There's bound to be a clearing in the forest not far from here where you could do that. Carefully pulling some supplies from your pack, you excuse yourself to go find such a place.

After hobbling through the woods for a few meters, the perfect spot comes into view. The trees are dispersed widely with large patches of soft grass creating space between them. Dew is already starting to blanket the ground. This will do. Undressing from the waist down, you notice a small stain of garnet blood has already marred your underwear. You change into clean clothes and put the blood catching cloth in place, wincing and groaning dramatically as you do so.

Finally, you lie down in the cool grass and release a deep breath, finding some comfort in at least being alone. But the cramps are still painful and debilitating. Stretching usually helps you ease the gnawing and clenching of your muscles, so you cycle through a few positions for several minutes. You end up on all fours, arching your spine and dipping your navel toward the earth. You sigh with relief and find yourself almost growing sleepy again . . .

"Having a midnight romp, are we?"

A silken voice hits your ears and sends your head spinning behind you.

Astarion stands at the edge of your forest sanctuary. He gently leans against a tree with his arms loosely crossed. He wears his usual camp clothes and a simpering expression.

"Ah, it's just you." Your bristles lower when you register the voice and see his familiar face. You rearrange yourself into a more dignified seated position. "Stalking me then, are we?"

"I wouldn't call it stalking so much as just following a loud, clumsy woman a few paces outside of our camp. Curiosity got the better of me," he says with some playfulness.

You smile a little. Quips like that used to annoy you, but you've grown quite fond of his sarcasm and banter these past few weeks.

"Well, you have found the loud, clumsy woman. Sorry if I disturbed your rest. I tried to be quiet," you say.

"Please, it's not like I need any more beauty sleep," he teases.

You smirk at him but say nothing. Your insides recoil a bit when you feel the temptation to agree. Truthfully, you've developed something of a 'crush’ on him, and it's reaching a certain point where you’re not always sure how to respond to his silly or suggestive comments. His roguish good looks and vicious aura don't help; he is indisputably attractive. Dangerously so.

But, a love affair is the last thing you want to further complicate your tadpole predicament with, especially with someone who can be so unpredictable. At least, this is what you tell yourself when the thought arises.

Besides, you don't want to stroke his ego too much. You've already been letting him feed from you nearly every night under the guise of 'I need you stronger for battles,' but truthfully… you enjoy it.

You enjoy the rush of adrenaline and the atmosphere of closeness that comes when his lips wrap around your neck. The sharp shock of pain that melts into a cold pleasurable tingle in your veins. You also like seeing the aftermath play out in his features. It always seems to have a very restorative and rousing effect on him. The way his mannerisms and expressions change after drinking from your body; It does something to you that you’re not quite willing to admit.

"You know," he says, forced to break the silence. "I was a bit surprised you didn't invite me for a bite tonight... Not that I’m here to beg!" His hands raise in mock defense and he smiles sheepishly. "I just... well, you may have spoiled me a bit."

A short laugh escapes you and you glance away shyly. "It's just been a busy day. I didn't mean to leave you hanging." This was the truth. "Besides, I’m not feeling very well so it's probably for the best. I likely wouldn't make a very good meal."

"Oh, I don't know..." he says trailing off. The corner of his lip twitches.

You notice something's a bit weird about him tonight... weirder than normal. He’s smiling but it seems off - an edge behind his cool exterior. Over these past few weeks, you've seen so many different expressions on his face but this one you don’t recognize. He’s also never sought you out to ask 'why not tonight?' when you didn't extend an invitation in the past. And it seems out of character for him to do anything that could be interpreted as desperation.

"What's got you feeling so poorly?" he asks almost sweetly.

"Just some stomach cramps," you say flatly and divert your gaze again. Annoyed he's making you elaborate on a potentially embarrassing situation. You regret mentioning feeling unwell in the first place.

In a tone that doesn't sound all that genuinely concerned, he sings, "Oh dear, I hope you're not the first of us to come down with some nasty food poisoning."

There's an ounce of breathiness to his voice - provocative as usual. But normally his torso and arms sway about expressively when the two of you chat. Those sweeping arms and gratuitous body language are now replaced with just the tiniest lift of his heels from the ground when he speaks. His arms folded over his waist, tightly, unmoving.

His stillness unnerves you. It also seems out of character for him to offer help... or pry…

You notice his eyelids are soft but his stare has so much potency behind it.

A sharp realization finally pierces your mind. You do recognize this look.

Gods above, so caught up in mulling over your infatuation and reading his cues that you didn’t even consider…

Does he… does he know you’re bleeding?

Can he smell you?

Of course he can.

He's like a shark when there's a bloodied scene nearby. He always makes a point to mention it so the rest of us will be on guard during our travels. 'There's blood in the air.'

You recognize this look from the first night he tried to bite you – suppressing his urge to devour you.

Ice in your veins.

You swallow thickly.

Detaching yourself from the thought as quickly as possible, you huff and try to squash the present discussion with some good old-fashioned beating around the bush.

"Okay well... it's not a stomach cramp per say, um… I don’t really think you would relate. The important thing is I can promise it won't come to affect you too," you say curtly.

You can feel yourself blushing, your chest a bit tight with anxiety. If he didn't sense it before, then he must know now. This topic usually provokes some disgust and awkwardness from people who don't experience it, but you've never given thought to how a vampire would react. Which seems ridiculous now, considering you've been letting one feed from your neck nearly every night for weeks now. Your mind screams the last part silently.

"Ah, say no more," he says politely, seeming to understand your hints. "Forgive my nosiness."

You’re relieved the reaction isn't an unpleasant one. "It's fine," you reply quickly. "I just needed to find somewhere to groan in peace."

"You're sure it's not ceremorphosis?" he jests, feigning nervousness. He knows it isn't, but it lightens the mood. "You'll have a hard time convincing Lae'zel that it isn't."

"Do githyanki not have periods?" you ask with genuine curiosity.

"Oh I have no idea. And I do not intend to ask."

You'd find it funnier if you weren't so uncomfortable, but it does clear the last fragments of tension in the air. As if on cue, a sharp pain suddenly hitches your breath and makes you wince. Now that the hellcat's out of the bag, you don't bother masking your discomfort.

Astarion clicks his tongue and quickly apologizes when he sees your face contort. He takes a hesitant step towards you and then seems to root himself in place again.

“It’s okay," you say through pinched features. “A nuisance. I’ll be fine by morning.”

"I suppose I should give you your privacy then,” Astarion drawls out rather slowly. His eyes skim up and down your body intentionally before he turns to leave. He wears a similar smile to the one that befalls him after feeding on you – the same one you’d never admit does wicked things to you.

"If I can be of any assistance to you tomorrow, please... let me know," he says over his shoulder. “Sweet dreams~”

The next morning, Shadowheart aids you. She insists you can wake her next time. She won't mind.

As you venture forth, you can’t help but think back to the last time you had your period during your journey and how Astarion might (must…) have smelled you then too.

It was early into your travels, no more than 24 hours after surviving the nautiloid crash. You remember cursing to yourself about the timing, but there aren’t any memorable details beyond that. Any aches and pains were likely overshadowed by the daunting threat of ceremorphosis and energy spent getting to know your new companions.

You try to specifically recall Astarion's demeanor during those few days, but it's hard to remember anything outstanding. He was terribly reserved for the better part of a week when you started travelling together. ‘What’s there to tell? ...It’s all rather tedious.’ Only after his vampirism was exposed did he seem to strike up more conversations and wear more emotions on his face. But you do eventually remember an exception…

His façade seemed to crack when you stumbled upon a gory scene of bloodied gnolls and hyenas. His demeanor was suddenly strange and turbulent when you stood amongst them. Surrounded by piles of mutilated flesh and impossibly wide puddles of blood, even your less-attuned senses were saturated with the metallic aroma. He was trembling, gasping almost through each sentence. Desperate to move on and away from the area once we’d killed them all.

You remember thinking in the moment that he seemed more shaken up than you would’ve expected. And his comments about the overwhelming smell of blood... it seemed to disturb him more than anyone else – even though he’d given off the impression he was no stranger to violence and killing.

Now, you realize it wasn’t the carnage that disturbed him – but his own frenzied hunger.

The thought sends a shiver down your neck. There are some scaled similarities to his behavior then and his behavior now when he feeds from you. He all but vibrates with energy before supping on your blood. He does a decent job at hiding it, but you still notice his breathing is ragged and his hands tremble when he goes to drink from you. And afterwards, he sways and laughs generously as though he's single handedly polished off a bottle of wine. It affects him like a drug, and you can’t help but wonder what it must feel like. You can’t help but wonder if it’s stimulating in other ways too.

When you're back at camp for the night, you have some red wine with the others to wind down. Two glasses in, you realize you’ve avoided talking to Astarion as much as you normally would today. A bit of guilt drips through you when you walk past his tent. He stands there now, the moonlight framing his elegant shape while he lazily thumbs through ‘The Roads to Darkness.’ Your eyes linger too long on the notch between his collar bones and the veins that swim up his forearms. Your feet bring you closer to him even though you have no plans of what to say.

He notices you, smiles, and closes his book to greet you. “Hello, my dear.”

“Good evening, my friend~” You’re surprised at your own confidence, then you remember the wine.

“You seem in high spirits,” he cocks an eyebrow. “Perhaps I should have imbibed some of that Blackstaff after all.”

“Oh, you didn’t have any?” You’re surprised. He usually partakes.

“No, I’m afraid now might not be the best time to let my inhibitions~ get the better of me.” He looks at you suggestively. “Maybe in a few days… when I’m a little less distracted."

You’re once again confronted with the embarrassing reality that he might (must… your mind insists. He must…) sense the blood between your legs. It seems like he wants you to know it too. The thought shoots an arrow through your abdomen – pleasure laced with fear. You’d be lying if you said the thought of Astarion’s mouth moving below your neck didn’t occupy your mind at times. Would he enjoy tasting your blood mixed with the nectar of your arousal?

You give in to the thought momentarily, leaving you at a loss for words. Asking him exactly what is distracting him fills you with too much uncertainty to speak.

After several more silent seconds the only thing that comes to your mind is an invitation. A familiar one.

Hesitation cleaves between your mind and mouth. The offer you used to extend so effortlessly now sits heavy on your tongue. All the bravado the Blackstaff gave you earlier is gone in an instant. A thousand thoughts echo in your head at once before you feel the words finally spill from your lips:

“You can feed on me tonight if you want.”

He holds your eyes calculatingly for a moment before replying in a hushed voice. "Oh darling, only if you're sure you're feeling up to it. I wouldn't want to put you out, considering your condition." His tone feels genuine, warm even.

"I’m sure,” you say in an elevated pitch. Your mouth is so dry.

"Alright... well you know, we could meet in that same little plot you sniffed out last night. If you're still having trouble sleeping, of course."

You do not give yourself time to speculate what this could mean. The thought of being alone with him again makes your heart flutter violently. You feel as if you’re floating away from your own body when you hear yourself say, "That sounds good."

He smiles. A glimpse of his tongue pressed between his teeth. "Until later then."

You lie awake in your bed roll, eyes glued to the night sky. Your companions have surely all fallen asleep by now. It feels like you have waited an eternity.

You try to talk yourself down from the heady excitement bubbling inside you. There's no reason to react this way – you’ve done this plenty of times now. We're just doing it a different spot tonight, you tell yourself.

Nothing is going to happen. You’re just reading into things too much.

At no point in your conversations with Astarion did either of you express a want to be intimate, yet you feel the palpable anticipation of that possibility. How ridiculous. You’ve made assumptions about his intentions because of your little crush. That’s all. A fleeting interest, and one he likely does not reciprocate.

Your anxiety surely has you overthinking his reaction to your period as well. This kind of blood is probably completely different from the fresh blood he’s always sniffing out anyway. It’s not like you’re bleeding out from a stab wound… even though it may feel a bit like it.

You glance at Astarion lying in his bedroll across the campfire. He lies curled up on his side so you can’t see his face – odd for him to sleep in that position. You climb to your feet quietly and make your way to the forest clearing. Your body feels much lighter than it did the evening before, disorienting-ly so.

It only takes a few moments to reach the grassy area from last night. Perhaps you’re walking a little faster than usual.

Attempting to relax, you elect to do more stretches until your companion arrives. It will help clear your mind and relieve any lingering muscle tension the cleric’s spell no longer helped with.

Before too long, Astarion’s footsteps can be heard approaching. He makes a bit of noise on purpose to alert you of his presence this time. You’re relieved he doesn’t choose to sneak up on you again. He catches you uncurling from a stretch when you see each other.

“Well, well. You remind me of a cat. So languid and flexible,” he says.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you laugh.

“You should.”

So forward. Your insides turn over at the affectionate notion and the sultry tone of his voice. It seems to undo all the self-talk you endured earlier.

“You remind me a bit of a cat too,” you tell him. “Nighttime prowls, stalking your prey and sneaking up on them…” Your tone is playfully pointed.

“Oh please! I didn’t startle you again tonight, did I?” he scoffs.

“No, just an observation. A compliment.” You can’t help it.

This earns a smile from him. “That’s very kind.”

The air waits expectantly for you to break the silence next.

“Should we…” you motion awkwardly toward the ground. Going about things this way is new.

He knows your meaning and doesn’t force you to finish the sentence. He simply graces you with another devilish smirk and follows your lead.

Strewn out on the forest ground is a blanket you brought from camp. You lie back on it and go to offer your neck, turning your nose to the side. Your heart beats quickly and your mouth secretly waters in anticipation. He kneels beside you and supports himself on his hands. But while descending toward you he pauses halfway down. You feel his silence and stillness stretch on longer than expected.

"Perhaps we should give this pretty neck of yours a break," he says quietly.

Surprised (and disappointed), you start to turn your head to face him, expecting him to pull back so your eyes could meet. Instead, he comes in close as if he still intends to bite you, blocking your movement.

Lips hovering just above your neck, his breath blooms down your chest. His upper body brushes against your breasts ever so slightly, sending warm electricity down your midsection and scattering through your abdomen. You stay melded together there for long seconds.

Does he mean...?

"What are you suggesting?" you finally ask breathlessly.

"Don't pretend you don't know." He hisses and peels himself up to find your eyes. There’s a small edge of urgency to his voice. "The - tsk… "

"...The scent of blood on you has driven me mad the past two nights," his voice wavers.

Of course...

You almost want to apologize, but the fact that he’s just confirmed your suspicion is staggering. You feel as though all the blood’s been drained from your body in an instant, and he hasn’t even bitten you yet. You’re frozen, grasping for words in vain while you stare into his crystal red eyes.

"And it’s not just the smell of your blood,” he continues. “-intoxicating as it is. I can't help but notice how much I've... enjoyed your company lately. I've taken many moments to wonder what it would be like to… enjoy more of you."

The words send desire rolling through your body, surging deep in your chest and spilling into your sacrum. Astarion’s never shied away from directing flirty comments at you, but his tone is often flippant, bordering on disingenuous at times. Now though, his words feel truthful, vulnerable.

It’s exciting to hear him acknowledge the chemistry you’ve begun to share. The heavy trepidation your attraction once carried suddenly feels much lighter, replaced with a small spark of confidence. The forest feels as though it's condensed around you, holding you both in an impenetrable cradle – quiet, shielded from the rest of the world. It’s safe to name your desires and share them here.

And Gods, to know without doubt that he’s also wondered what it would be like to fuck you… it fills you with such a renewed lust for him; you can’t deny it anymore.

"Do you wonder that too?" he asks gently.

You swallow and whisper hoarsely, "I do."

He shifts his weight closer to you again. A spike of anxiety jolts through you when you remember what started this conversation – the smell of your blood… an alternative to your neck…

An obscene vision of Astarion’s face licking blood from your cunt flashes in your mind. Your hips curl instinctively at the thought. A piece of your mind shatters from the possibility of it becoming a reality.

"Then, what say you? Are you inclined to get a little closer? As soon as tonight?” he presses further.

Wordlessly you place a hand on the side of his neck, thumb stroking the corner of his jaw. His skin is surprisingly soft and cool to the touch. A mixture of excitement and unease floods your senses. It's so surreal to be here with him now when you've pushed away many daydreams of a moment like this.

“I would like that,” you admit.

He smiles at your affirmation and closes the gap between your lips. Arousal erupts from your veins once again when he kisses you. His lips are soft but with a tempest behind them. The desire in his kiss is tinged with melancholy, quiet desperation crashing against you. His tongue caresses yours in ways nobody’s has before. Both responding and leading. Moving along you like water currents.

He sinks into you to deepen the kiss. Your body responds in kind, free hand finding his waist and legs seeking to tangle with his own. Your bodies brushing against each other for the first time is almost too much to bear. If something as simple as this elicits such a strong reaction, you can hardly imagine how the rest of the evening will affect you.

His legs move between your own, his hips persuading your thighs to open. His body is so cool against yours, burning hot. The contrast makes you ache to press your core, the hottest place, against him. He must read your mind because he lets his full weight fall into you so your temperatures can mix. It’s now that you can feel he’s hard, pressed between your legs. He moans lewdly into your mouth as he steals your heat. The combination of stimuli begins to transform your arousal. Thoughts and time begin to slip from comprehension.

Your hands snake underneath his shirt to run your fingers against his midsection. You remove each other’s clothes and steal kisses between each garment. His hands skate up your obliques and trace circles around your breasts, making you arch into him like, well, a cat. You laugh to yourself.

He begins to slide down your body. You instantly miss having his pelvis pressed against your own. He drags his lips, tongue, and occasionally the tip of a sharp canine along your exposed breasts and midsection. His hands expertly unloop your belt and tug the pants off your thighs.

Gods, are we really doing this? The cool night air enveloping your bare skin sobers you a bit.

“Still sure you’re up for losing a little more blood?” Astarion whispers huskily.

You nearly choke on your own spit at the audacity.

“You really have a gift for disarming comments,” you tell him.

“Just making sure we’re on the same page,” he says while thumbing at the hem of your underwear.

He must notice how tense your muscles are because he pauses.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks earnestly.

“I… you’re not grossed out?” you wince through the question.

He blinks at you in disbelief. The concern in his features morphs into amusement.

“Darling… I’m a vampire. Did you forget?” he jokes. "No, I am not ‘grossed out’. I may not know what it feels like, but I do know it’s perfectly natural and…" His voice lowers, "it's something I’ve always been quite intrigued by the possibilities of, if I’m honest with you.”

Yet another indecent sensation spreads through your body at these words. How interesting. Relief, pride, and curiosity tangle themselves in your mind and you can’t help but start to smile.

“Is that all you’re worried about?” he asks as if there was something else he’d expected.

You nod, “Yes. I want this.” To reinforce the words, your body language relaxes, open and willing for him. You’ve suffered in anticipation of this for nearly 24 hours and it’s time to give in.

“Please,” you whisper, driving the point home. He seems to like this.

“Good,” his voice hums and his dark smile returns.

His fingers return to caress your body and hook over the waist of your panties. He tugs at the hem, up, towards your bellybutton, skillfully maneuvering the fabric to tease you and manipulate your flesh without directly touching. You sigh and tilt your hips to encourage him. He peels the garment off agonizingly slowly, savoring every moment more of your skin comes into view, until they’re stripped from your legs and discarded entirely.

He strokes the pads of his fingers in circles over your mons veneris. They skate closer and closer to your lips, driving you to insanity. Your hips strain into him, begging for his touch to finally reach your clit.

Instead, his hands slip under your knees to lift and bend your legs. Powerful emotions of arousal, embarrassment, and euphoria crash over you all at once when he pulls your knees apart and looks down at you. You can feel the cool air against your wetness now, unsure how much is blood or transparent arousal. His jaw hangs open slightly, and you swear his pupils dilate to an unnatural size as he takes in the sight. The entire position makes you feel deliciously vulnerable. You tremble under his gaze and fight the nagging instinct to clamp your legs shut as he hovers over you. Even harder you must fight it as his elbows come to the ground and his head lowers down between your thighs.

His mouth encloses around you slowly and deliberately, as if lacing his lips around a wine glass. He presses his tongue firm against your wetness, immediately releasing a long, debased groan that shatters any of your remaining insecurities.

You've already imagined what his voice must sound like during sex (it's impossible not to) but the reality of its sound is more guttural and feral than expected. The sound waves resonate through your body violently and the pleasure is so great you think you might be dead.

Alas, you are very much alive, lying on the forest floor with a vampire between your legs.

Astarion laps at every curve, everywhere the colors red and pink have stained your skin and further. His tongue moves with purpose and heavy pressure, seeking to consume every bit he can. Teeth skim against your soft flesh every so often, but never hard enough to hurt. Just enough to make you feel like an orange peel he seeks to scrape every drop of juice from.

He clutches at your ass cheeks while he feasts on you, thumbs pulling your center apart. He’s apparently licked your thighs and lips clean, because now he only pushes his tongue inside you, fucking you mercilessly with it. Every so often, he pauses this onslaught to pet your clitoris with the tip of this tongue, making your hips spasm and core tighten. The rhythm he teases you in makes you wetter and wetter. It’s the perfect vehicle to coax more blood from your pussy and into his mouth.

He removes himself for a moment and leans forward to kiss you again, lips slick with saliva and slightly swollen from friction.

He tastes of so many things at once. Saturated in the copper cherry flavor of your blood and the seasalt of arousal, your tongues meet again and again. All this on top of Astarion’s own lingering scent, herbal and citrusy, your senses spill over with colorful stimuli.

“Still having any doubts, my dear?” he whispers through a kiss.

“No. Gods, no,” you answer.

"I could stay latched to you all day like this..." he pants against your lips. "I would clean up every. drop. for you." His voice drips with lascivious melody.

"What's it like?" you ask excitedly.

He grins at your question. He loves that you would ask him this.

"Intoxicating,” he breathes through his teeth. “You are the most sinfully delicious fruit I've ever tasted. As if your blood alone didn't already tempt me."

"Is it enough?" you inquire. "…enough blood, I mean?"

"There's no such thing" he says. "but… I have an idea of how to encourage more out of you." His fingers graze down your belly and knead at the skin of your pelvic bone again. The motion indirectly pulling the hood of your clit back and forth.

You moan unabashedly and your spine contorts, begging once again for his hand to go lower. This time, he obliges and uses two slender fingers to tease the contours of your vulva. When they slip between your folds, a silent cry hitches in the back of your throat. He probes at your entrance gently at first, pushing just barely deeper than before with every motion. You writhe against him, trying to remind yourself to breathe.

Normally you would savor such attentive foreplay, but right now it's torturous. It’s overwhelming to even watch what he’s doing; your eyes keep fluttering shut. Every time his fingers delve deeper your desire swells greater. When his knuckles finally brush against your ass, he curls his two fingers inside you over and over, quickly. They rub firmly against your sensitive upper walls, dragging more slickness out of you.

The sudden pressure and intensity in his movements surprises you. It moves you to open your eyes just long enough to find his own. His gaze holds you down, you feel almost charmed, petrified, dominated. Unable to look away. Rutilant eyes stare deeply back at you while he possesses you – they hold so much intensity and desire, all while focused on you.

It leaves you a bit awestruck, to have him both create and witness your ecstasy. To know you. The moment feels unexpectedly intimate until his hypnotic eyes finally release you.

His mouth joins his hand, immediately working your clit with persistence while his fingers pump inside you. You gasp, and a laugh of disbelief bubbles out of you. The combination of touches makes you feel delirious. His tongue roves over you mercilessly and his hand quickens its pace. Every muscle in your body is taut and frozen in fire. Your eyes find the stars when you feel yourself start to come apart on his fingers.

"Please don't stop," you cry quietly.

He doesn't. His fingers continue to stretch your walls and thrust against your core, tongue quick and unceasing against your pert clit. Tears well up in your eyes as the intensity of sensation builds to a white crescendo. It falls over you like glass shattering in slow motion. He groans against your pussy as you come, undoubtedly feeling it clench desperately around his hand. It’s so intense you can’t help but cry out and grasp wildly at his back. You don’t care if your voice reaches the campsite. He slows his movements to keep rhythm with you as you ride out your orgasm.

“Such a pretty voice you have,” he removes his fingers and kisses the inside of your thighs.

He makes sure you're looking when he brings his digits to his mouth and licks the red stain clean from them. There’s no hesitation in the action, he laps your blood from his fingers as if it's honey, or spilled wine. He licks your center again too, purely for his own gain now, just for the taste.

“Gods,” You shudder at his touch, still hypersensitive from the climax he wrought through you.

A little less clouded, your vision sharpens on his form. You admire how striking he looks below you. Shirtless, broad shoulders holding the weight of your thighs. Pale moonlight painting every muscle. Your eyes pathing from his sharp collar bones down to his toned navel. He looks so beautiful. Already, you desire him again. More of him. Your eyes land on his cock, still erect and straining against his trousers.

“That was amazing,” you finally manage to say. “I don’t think I’ll ever have another experience quite like that one.”

“I certainly don’t think so either,” he looks proud of himself. “But must we speak of it in the past-tense already?”

“You’re right. I misspoke.” Your foot gently drags over his clothed erection, in case your interest isn’t clear.

He looks at you knowingly and brings a hand to his waistband.

“Oh, good,” he smiles and unwraps himself from the fabric. "You’ll tell me if it’s uncomfortable, right?"

You nod. “Just start slow, if you can?”

Your eyes widen at his exposed length. His cock is longer and thicker than you'd expected, which is saying something since your imagination was already kind to him. Filthy anticipation coils inside of you.

“Of course. I already intended to take my time,” he whispers lowly.

He hooks his palms under your knees and pulls you apart for him. His body looms over you and the head of his cock grazes your entrance, teasing you with every microscopic movement. He rocks against you in little pulses that make you whine and twist impatiently. He starts to enter you, a little deeper with each push, teasing you just like he did with his fingers, driving you insane.

You can’t take much more, mewling underneath him while he torments you. Fully withdrawing with every stroke, the tip of his cock re-penetrates you over and over in an agonizing tempo. Shallowly fucking you with disciplined control. Before long though, you see his expression start to lose composure.

He straightens up to a kneeling position and beckons you to lift your lower body up to meet him.

“Feet on the ground, darling,” he orders you sweetly.

He scoops you up by your ass and levels your entrance with his cock again. Your upper back still lies on the ground, your body in a half bridge pose, fully exposed to him.

He hoists you against him and sheaths himself inside of you, finally forgoing the teasing. You nearly scream at the sudden weight of him inside you, stretching your entire depth. His hands pull you up and down on his cock, thumbs tickling the inside of your hipbones where he grips you tightly. You lose yourself again as he fucks you, overwhelmed with elation and disbelief.

Astarion groans obscenely. You notice he’s transfixed on watching himself impale you, gradually painting his cock with your cordial. His eyebrows furrow seriously and his mouth falls slightly open, drinking in the sight. He seems to lose himself too, and you find yourself with your full back against the ground again, his body covering you, still inside you.

“You still smell so irresistible.” A hand finds the base of your skull and clutches at your hair. He pulls and forces you to bear your neck for him. It sends a little jolt of fear through your body initially, but you relax into his grasp after a moment.

“Can't get enough?” you ask, just barely managing to show some cheek. He continues to fuck you gently through the exchange. Were his strokes any closer together, it wouldn’t be possible to form words.

“Never,” he hisses against your ear.

His lips graze down your throat, pausing to hover just above where he always drinks from you. “May I?”

“Do it,” you plead.

His fangs tease your skin for several more strokes before they finally drive through you, and as soon as they pierce your skin he fucks you faster. His cock beats against your walls again and again. He moans desperately into your neck while he bleeds you. You’d call the sound pathetic, were it not for the way his teeth held you down like a predator killing its prey. Your cunt clenches around him tightly in response, mirroring his jaws.

The wound to your neck is just barely endurable at first, but it starts dissolving into pleasure almost instantly. Now coupled with the adrenaline of having sex with him, the feeling is near mind-altering. It hypnotizes you.

He drinks from you hungrily, sucking and gulping you down every few seconds. The wet sound of him swallowing can be heard right underneath your ear. You both whimper frantically into each other, ecstasy building quickly. His cock starts to hit you harder, stretch you wider. He unlatches himself from your neck, gasping for air. Blood drips from his lips and down his chin when you see his face. His pupils are blown out. It looks as though he’s trying to form words but they won’t escape his mouth.

He only manages a, “Gods… I’m…” before stuttering out a loud groan, abandoning his thought and dignity. You can feel him throb inside you eagerly, struggling against your muscles squeezing him in as he climaxes. He thrusts into you wildly a few more times before shuddering and cautiously falling into you.

His body covers you for a short moment, your chests rising and falling into each other as you both catch your breath. He then rolls himself off of you and lies by your side.

“Apologies” he breathes out heavily, wiping blood from his jaw. “I lost myself there for a moment… I’m infertile, so no need to worry. But I should have told you.”

“That’s okay,” you whisper. You’d barely considered it - too drunk on pleasure to think rationally.

The sweet earthy aroma of the dampened grass drifts into your nostrils. Lying there naked, sticky and sweaty, anxiety slowly starts to creep back under your skin. No doubt this could complicate things going forward… especially if your attraction goes beyond the physical like you suspect.

You hear a wet sound beside you and turn your head to see Astarion licking his palm. His eyes meet you while he sucks at the skin between his thumb and index finger. He smiles and, to your surprise, gently pulls you into him. The smell of savory herbs and citron tickles your nose; his scent is already growing to feel familiar.

“I’d like to share a little more of your heat, if it’s alright with you,” he says quietly. His lips brush the hairs on your head.

“I’m happy to share,” you say through a smile, secretly delighted to be curled up in his chest.

His fingers trace your back lazily and you reflect on the past two nights (mostly this one). As amazing as tonight has been, the fear of your feelings growing stronger from this gnaws at you. But you gather the courage to push your insecurities aside. Testing the waters with a little suggestion:

“Provided we don’t die from being turned into mind flayers or some other horrors, I think we should do this again next month.”

You feel him smile against your crown.

“Why wait until next month?”

~END~

Thank you for reading :>

#crème de la crème #spicy stuff

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