#there is smut involved

[theorist-fox]

Can I interest you in some silly sex with Simon? 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️

18+

Word count: 1k.

CW: nothing really. Just silly sex. Just giggling sex. Just I-need-to-give-this-man-some-humanity sex. Simon is ticklish and you find out, that's the plot.

Masterlist 🦊

You look delectable straddling his hips.

Naked and soft, plump tits sitting prettily in his hands. His thumbs swipe idly around your perked nipples as you ride him slowly, early morning sun peeking through the curtains and lapping at your skin. What a way to wake up, what a sight.

He stares at your lips and how they part for him—something he still has to get used to, though he probably never truly will. How dulcet does his name sound if it’s your voice whispering it, how beautiful your eyes when they take in his face.

Soft hands are pressed on his chest for leverage, and you’re treating him with a view he keeps pinned to the forefront of his brain—gliding your cunt until you’re chock-full of him, stroking yourself until you’re shivering.

He likes it when he’s on top, sure. He’s used to taking the lead and orchestrating every detail, in and out of the job. 

But when you allow him to sit back and take it? Hell, sign him up. He’d do it every day. Especially when it’s this lazy sex here, in which you’re canting your hips to cum before he does, giving him the blissful chance of feeling you clench around him when he's still hard. 

Goosebumps rise under your nails as they graze down his chest and brush his stomach. Your hands wander blindly on his belly, then his sides, as you clock his eyes with your heavy ones, panting softly, idly—my beautiful, beautiful girl.

But then you inadvertently brush his ribs, and he stiffens—even squirms, and your movements come to a halt.

You blink as conscience returns to you slowly, and the room sinks into tense silence. His cock twitches inside of you when you tilt your head inquisitively, squinting your eyes.

Experimentally, you brush your fingertips against his ribs again, and his biceps flatten to his sides, trapping your hands.

Your eyes widen, and his do the same.

“Don’t.”

You gasp, “Oh my God.”

“Darling, no.” He warns, but you’ve clearly made up your mind already.

Your lips are curled in a smile that promises mischief, and he can only give up, sit back, and count his losses.

“Darling, yes.”

Simon feels your fingers wiggle under the tight press of his arms, but no matter his strength, they're seemingly useless against that playful resolve you're displaying.

His cock is still embarrassingly hard inside you, and Simon reckons it won't soften any time soon. You don’t seem eager to get off him either, thus prolonging the torture with each tiny movement you make.

He inhales sharply and fights tooth and nail to school his expression into neutrality. His eyes are narrowed, and his jaw is locked tight. The only thing giving him away is the flush of his cheeks, getting pinker by the second because he refuses to open his mouth to breathe a much-needed lungful of air. Knowing that if he would, he'd bark a laugh that would proclaim you as the winner of this fight.

He would never.

You roll your hips, then—cheap trick. He unravels with a shaky breath, and his biceps give out enough for you to slip your hands away.

And then, he knows he's done for.

“Cut it out.” He barks, trying to sound stern and miserably failing. He knows because you're laughing even harder.

Your fingers feel like tiny bugs crawling up his sides, and they make his breath catch in his throat.

“Never.” You say, with a grin that scrunches your nose. A smile that would normally make his heart throb, but right now just makes him wish he were a lesser man so he could throttle you.

“Fuckin’-“

You chuckle.

You evil little cunt.

Resistance lasts a few more seconds before he bursts.

It’s not a full laugh that leaves him; more of a wheeze that makes you chortle like a wicked witch. His chest heaves as your fingers frantically tickle his sides. Tries to get you off him by shaking his hips, but that only makes the two of you falter and moan, and then chuckle and catch your breaths.

His shoulders shake in a breathless, choking laugh that pitches upward as you continue with your assault (yes, assault—he is not being dramatic), eyes veiled with tears of frustration and mirth. He shrieks when your hands travel under his armpits—the sound makes you giggle in a way that would have him melt. 

“That laugh’s lovely, baby.” You say with a smarmy grin he wishes he could wipe with a kiss, hands unrelenting against his sides. “Sound like a kettle whistling.”

He tries to glower and push you off, but you’re surprisingly strong when you’re focused. Right now, your only goal is to apparently make him hate you—he'd rather be held at gunpoint than being forced to hold in a laugh that makes his stomach hurt.

Simon now looks shockingly harmless, with his cheeks flushed bright red and his voice an octave too high—wouldn't look dangerous if he tried.

“Tea ready, yet?” You add, batting your lashes, because why not rub salt into the already embarrassing wound marring his pride.

It’s that unfathomably stupid joke that finally makes Simon crack. He barks out a laugh that bubbles up his throat, rippling through his stomach so suddenly that you bounce above him. Your own laugh follows soon after, because each time you manage to steal one from him, your heart vibrates with loving triumph.

But still—he is Simon Riley, isn’t he? Member of Task Force 141. Lieutenant in the UK Special Forces, SAS. The Ghost. There is some pride in there, one he'd like to keep intact.

He tries to recollect his breath, sniffling, and his arms shoot out to wrap around your waist. He rolls onto his side, taking you with him.

It’s then that you find yourself in a position of utter disadvantage, on your back with your big brute of a boyfriend holding you down. You’re wide-eyed and still smiling with barely contained giggles, and he’d be lying if he said it doesn't make his heart soar.

Sure, he’s panting, still proper flushed and apple-cheeked, with shivers wrecking his spine and unshed tears in his eyes—but he takes great pride in having won yet another fight (again, not overreacting at all, if you ask him).

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head.

You fix him with a look. “Simon, no.”

Before you can add more to your complaint, he rams his cock into you until your chest stutters, your lips mouthing around a shaky breath he drinks dry with a wet kiss.

He fucks you into the mattress, then—once, twice, until the remnants of laughter vanish from your face and you’re trembling in bliss, eyes rolled back under heavy eyelids.

He places a sloppy kiss down to your collarbone.

“Simon, yes.”

[bitterrfruit]

Simon forgets how strong he is

18+ MDNI - cw: bruising - ~700 words

just some Simon Riley NSFW brainrot ♥︎ - part 2-ish, and part 3-ish here!!

Simon forgets how to be gentle.

When he's at war, fighting and shooting and killing day and night, all he knows is hardness. Brutality. Ruthlessness. His hands and heart grow calloused and rough in his months away from you. Using his unfathomable strength to survive is what he grows used to, it becomes second nature.

But it's your softness he remembers, to keep himself sane. It's all he thinks about. Dreams of.

The way the flesh of your hips, your ass, your breasts, your belly, pillows so deliciously between his fingers when he squeezes his handful - so warm, so supple. The way your vanilla-balmed lips graze his scarred skin so tenderly, however undeserved your sweetness is.

And when he finally returns home, after months of missing, craving you - when you stand in the door, honey thighs bare by virtue of the black panties you wore just to torture him, soft tummy peeking out from under your crop-top - he just can't restrain himself.

You greet him with your sugary smile, stretching up on your toes to curl your loving arms around his neck - your gentle voice, music; "Si, ah! I'm so glad you're okay…"

The moment your velvet skin touches his, his shackles crumble. Like a beast starved, he clutches you. Mammoth arms curl around you, constricting, gripping you eagerly like you might be a dream; liable to turn to a memory, to smoke.

His avaricious embrace lifts your feet from the ground, though he doesn't mean to - he burrows his nose and mouth into the crook of your neck, lets the curls of your hair smother him and fill his chest with the faint scent of your fruity shampoo. Fights every urge to take a bite, like you're a ripe nectarine.

Growls into your skin, through his jaw; "I fuckin' missed you, love. Christ, you have no idea how much I missed you."

"I missed you too, baby…" you coo into his ear, even your breathing is tender - he can't take it.

So he ferries you immediately to the sitting room, scoops you up like you weigh nothing, lets you coil your buttery thighs around his waist as he sits you on his lap on the sofa.

His wide hands take their greedy handfuls of your body - of your waist, of your hips, of your thighs, of your ass. Finally indulging the impulses he had dreamed about for so long - the very image he had fucked his fist to more times than he could count while parted from you.

With his teeth on your shoulder, tongue laving your warm skin; "So fuckin' soft," he grumbles deeply, and urges, "pretty thing. So soft. Fuck, I missed you."

His cock is hasty to grow boulder-solid under his trousers, and he chastises himself - but you answer with a cloying giggle, grinding your mound against its rigidity as if to torment him.

"Mm, you did miss me," you tease, little brat.

Then in an instant, all he can think about is the softness of your syrupy pussy, the gumminess of the inside of your cunt as its walls caress and milk his cock like it was built just to fit him.

You make him fucking ravenous, so voraciously eager to have you that he doesn't even notice his hands turn to vices around your flesh - fingers burrowing so deeply into the cheek of your ass that he might break through the skin.

"Ah!" You yelp, "Ow - Simon - you're hurting me-"

Your squeak of pain is enough to immediately shatter him - so he rapidly lifts you off of him, protecting you from his impulse. Stands you on your feet so that you're no longer victim to his inability to control himself.

"Shit, I'm sorry-" he grunts under his breath, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it's-" Your brows curl in worry, turning to look at where he had clawed you - and he sees the purple bruises where his hand had wrenched the flesh of your ass, the red lines where his fingernails had nearly punctured you. "Oh," you breathe at the sight, "…wow."

Drowning in visceral shame, he can barely bring himself to touch you again. But your soft hand caresses his hair, running through the sandy tresses - you, somehow, the one to comfort him.

"It's okay, baby, I know you didn't mean to," you purr fondly, and he leans forward to shamefully press as soft a kiss as he can into the bruise he gave you. Fucking monster.

"I'm sorry," he croaks into your skin, hoping his guilt will reverse his barbarity. "I just missed you."

"I know," you croon, turning to plant a loving kiss into his hair. "It's okay."

You guide him to lean back, mounting his lap again, letting your pelvis grind against the erection you were quick to reawaken.

His hands barely ghosting over your skin, he restrains himself, touches you carefully.

You whisper, into his stubbled cheek; "I'll show you how to be gentle again."

[starrymix]

having some thoughts after seeing certain… sunday artwork and animations

was also reading one of my drafts and somehow something i wrote about sunday being a cryer became canon so hell yeah baby

tags: NSFW!! imagining this as a post-astral express sunday in a new relationship with the reader. also a great post for all you dacryphilia mfs (me)

poor angel is probably so lost about everything now. what is he supposed to do now without so much burden and control on his shoulders that he was always so used to?

god i cannot imagine how PENT up this brainwashed youth pastor must be. absolutely no experience in this avenue.

honestly, he’ll constantly tuck himself right behind those wings of his during any new intimate stage you two reach. bro can NOT handle being vulnerable.

he’ll do it when you see him naked for the first time, when your hands glide over his smooth body, when you whisper how beautiful he is in his ear. hell, he’ll even do it as your lips trail down his neck, especially if you land on a particular sensitive spot. this man will also get extremely flustered if you mark him up in any way, even if his clothes completely cover up any significant ones.

sunday for sure whines and whimpers in bed and will immediately try to cover them up, though a lot will definitely be slipping through. it’s going to take plenty of convincing and patience before you can get him to let them all out freely.

lets out the loudest gasp when your fingers push inside of him for the first time. it’s so weird and foreign to him yet he would never tell you to stop. he’ll let out the most pathetic cries as you plunge in and out of him. he’s already tearing up so much from the sensations of you stretching him out.

when he’s nearing the edge, he’ll instinctively reach out for your wrist, his nails digging into your skin as he weakly tries to stop you. poor boy is completely unfamiliar with a prostate orgasm that the oncoming feeling is so strange and unfamiliar to him.

and then it all finally hits him and it’s so good and yet so much that it’s almost unbearable. his legs are shaking uncontrollably as he’s letting full blown tears stream down his cheeks. his wings are so longer covering his face and are now fluttering around his head.

you probably need to give him a good few minutes or so to properly recover. of course during that wait, you need to pepper his face with kisses in order to soothe him.

let’s just hope he can handle what’s coming next.

an: that’s where i’m gonna end it off for now. unfortunately i don’t have the skills (or courage) yet to do more explicit scenes (😔) but with the way my sunday fixation is going there’s probably going to be many more

oh yeah this is also my first real smut post on this blog so i hope yall enjoy it

[choccy-milky]

MC doing what we all wished we could do (aka napping on the floor with ominis )😴💕

[priceoftheduchess]

My uterus was bubbling with excitement at the publication of OldeRetired!Simon. We would love a second part!! 😍🫶🫶🖐️

ask and you shall receive >:] i’m so normal about him… cw) smut…

Being young, you honestly hadn’t had much experience with guys. Casual hookups were okay, but it was usually you and your little buzzing friend against the world most nights.

Until Simon. You met him in a bar, unsuspecting at first. Just wanting to flirt up an older man, see what you got yourself into. Innocuous enough.

Until he gets you home.

Thick fucking arms wrapped around your thighs, pinning your cunt to his tongue. He is lapping at you like he has been starved of this nectar. Like he was going to die the next moment he lived without it. Soft circle-8s made with him tongue, before he licked a fat stripe from hole to clit.

He did this until you were a mess, laughing and giggling drunkenly on the sensations he brought you. ‘S’good,’ you muttered softly, causing Simon to chuckle as he climbed up your body, finally deeming you ready.

He kissed along your chest, collarbone and your jaw, spewing praise in your ear before he even did anything.

“Mm, so fuckin’ good f’me.”

“Beautiful sight, you are.”

And his words were so patient, even as he grunted and panted in your ear.

“Squeeze me, luv, ‘attagirl,”

“Fuck, birdie, how do I last when you look at me like ‘at?”

Trusting your promise that you were on birth control, he finished with spasming hips and a face contorted into pleasure. He rolled over next to you, positively ruined.

Lucky for him, he ruined other men indefinitely.

Not like he was going to let you leave anyways, birdie. You made a bet. And he won. He got to take you home.

You never said he had to let you go!

[jesuistrestriste]

cw (18+): sub!art, afab + femme!character, age gap, crying/dacryphilia, art being a sad and lonely hot guy in his forties, tashi and art never really got together, creampie

˚ ﹒⟢ ˚ ﹒⟢ ˚ ﹒⟢ ˚ ﹒⟢ ˚ ﹒⟢ ˚ ﹒⟢ ˚ ﹒⟢

dilf!art getting with a pretty young thing from down the block. . .

he always admired her effortless confidence and the way her body moved when she walked down the street to the corner store every weekend.

always watched her return from his brownstone apartment window; a pack of cinnamon gum and a case of peach seltzer in her hands.

she’s beautiful and bouncy and everything he didn’t get to have in his youth when he was too sucked into tennis to let himself live a little. he lost tashi to patrick. that was that. and he never tried dating again until about ten or so years ago.

they were all flings that crashed and burned their way through his thirties. meaningless moments where all he was left with was a wet dick and a heaviness in his chest. he hated it. he was done with it.

until her.

she was different.

she sparked a conversation with him one day when they ran into each other outside his doorstep. she was cracking jokes that only made her seem more intriguing because art didn’t understand the social context behind them— he was no longer hip and cool, he’d accepted it. but that, combined with the pop of her hip she did when she was making him laugh (not to mention the way she smacked her gum + batted her lashes when she smiled; all pearly whites) made him feel like even more of a creep.

but now she’s bouncing on his cock and gazing down at him while he gasps and squirms like a livewire underneath her.

they’ve only really known each other for a week and a half.

“say thank you, Artie,” she purrs, her hand tracing the spattered flush on his chest, “say it.”

he bucks his hips up as much as he can to meet her movements, and bites his lip hard enough to taste metal when his tip bumps her cervix.

“thank you, oh my god, thank you— thank you, thank you—! ha-aah-!”

he babbles; a broken record of whines and shaky moans. his throat hurts from all of the sounds being pulled from him when the most he’s talked all month has come from just a couple of boring, remote interviews about his athletic career.

and her, of course.

god, it’s all her..

he swallows and keens, and then his eyes are watering.

and then he’s sobbing. he’s choking on his tears and yet he’s still feeling the tight coil of warmth tense further and further and further-

“don’t cry,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss the wetness from his cheeks, her hips swiveling to ride him harder just as the first slimy blurt of his orgasm spills inside, “you’re a good boy, okay? you’re perfect… a total catch…”

she smells like candy. she’s wiping his tears now.

“oh fuck, thank you-uu—hnghh!”

art lifts his hips, his face crumpling with pleasure and sadness, before he yelps and his climax wipes him out. his whole body trembles as he feels his cock pulse and coat her pussy with gooey clots of his spend. he’s practically wheezing.

he grips onto her hips fiercely; like if he doesn’t squeeze hard enough she’ll just go *poof*, and then he’ll be alone again.

“.. ungh, ‘m sorry, im cumming inside you, im cumming, im so sorry,” he whimpers, the aftershocks leaving him feeling bare and weak. stripped of all of his armor. if he even had any left to begin with.

she kisses his shoulder gently, and then she’s dipping her glossy lips down to whisper right next to his ear. her dainty necklace chills his skin when it dangles from her body and meets his collarbone. she’s so close to him.

“don’t worry, Mr. Donaldson…

you’ll be a great daddy.”

[siriussimon]

just thinking about johnny being jealous and hating when he’s not the center of attention. a scottish man with a mohawk, how could he not be an attention seeker?

sitting at the bar johnny was nursing a glass of whiskey. the boys had been spread across the bar and he got stuck alone and slightly tipsy already. nobody’s come to talk to him yet and that’s brought his mood down significantly. usually he’s gone home by now with a pretty bird wrapped in his arms.

his eyes start scanning the bar looking for his saving grace. if he was getting anything tonight he new exactly where to go.

tha’ fuck?

his eyes had locked on to the big brute chatting up the prettiest thing he’s seen in awhile. she seemed timid, eyes fluttering, her fingers fumbling with her glass as she looked up at this weird fellow with a mask.

johnny downed the rest of his drink before walking towards the two.

“ah was lookin’ for ya, si.” johnny practically purred, pushing his way between the two of you and leaning himself up against the wall. simon gave him a deep hum, eyes squinting, knowing exactly what he wanted. like a dog asking for a bone.

you watched this whole interaction, downing the rest of your drink to ease the tension in your body. they looked pretty close…were they—

“why don’t ya introduce yourself, love?” simon’s gruff voice broke the silence, his eyes looked heavier as they looked at you, it looked like he moved closer to johnny too. what is happening?

“oh, uh, hi..johnny.” you murmured so sweetly, you told him your name, and he gave you a toothy grin in return.

“aren't ye sweet? hud tae see whit's git mah man's attention nicked fae me... Ah kin see why..” his eyes raking down your body, eyes steady on the cleavage peeking from your little top. didn’t help that you had clasped your hands in front of you out of nervous habit, not noticing the way your arms pushed your tits out even further for the filthy bastards in front of you.

“oh my god.. i’m so sorry. i didn’t know!” you frantically apologized, hand coming to rest on his bicep before turning to leave this terribly awkward situation. of course simon was taken, 6’5 bulk of a man, and his boyfriend was just as handsome.

johnnys finger hooked into your loop of your jeans pulling you back agaisnt him. your ass flush against his hips now, arm sprawling across your waist to pull you in incredibly close. you felt your face heat up when you notice simon get in front of the two of you boxing the both of you against the wall, shielding you from the rest of the crowded bar.

“look perfect wrapped up in his arms, birdie.” simon drawled out, fingers grazing along your cheek, pressing his thumb against the bottom of your lip. you felt your knees buckle but luckily johnny was there to hold you still.

you felt so overwhelmed but so fucking good. fuck it. two hot men fawning over you? when will you ever get this opportunity again. suddenly you were turning in johnnys arms, his forehead pressed against yours, hands splayed across the fat of your ass giving it a tight squeeze. a little squeak leaving your lips.

“now give ‘im a kiss. our boy needs us, yeah?” simon whispered agaisnt your ear.

[darthkote]

hell nah star wars got me researching military tactics for creative purposes (fanfiction)

[cursedyuri]

having a full time job is so fucking homophobic, likeee what do you mean i can’t spend all day writing lesbian fanfiction? im gonna jump.

[buzzcutlip]

W9nndering if you'd be into writing #1 / I with Carmen. 🩷

Hi, thank you for the request 💗🎅

Prompts from my seasonal prompt list: Watching Christmas movies & Falling asleep together Carmen x Fem!Reader Explicit! with fluff!! Words: 2500

The hum of the central heating, neighbors' voices, the sound of the cars on the street drifting in through the single-glazed windows—all of it lulls both Carmen and you into a deep slumber, despite The Elf playing on the small screen of Carmen’s TV. Carmen's couch isn't the most comfortable, but exhaustion blunts any discomfort.

You’re both exhausted from the dinner rush, as it seems that the restaurant’s busier in December than ever before. Carmy never leaves before the end of the service, and you stay to help with whatever you can. You started as a waiter—a terrible one, needing the money for your last year of college. By some accident, or miracle, perhaps, Carmen never fired you. You ended up being in charge of the tedious administration at The Bear, alongside Natalie. You order and pick up fresh flower arrangements in Richie’s beat-up car, managing to escape any fines despite your dubious driving skills.

You wake up when Carmen shifts, his shoulder brushing yours. You’re positioned side by side, with your back slightly leaning against Carmy’s chest. His breathing is deep and slow, his hand resting near yours, close enough that the warmth of his skin seems to seep across the small gap. You yawn and then let your eyes roam over Carm’s handsome face. The furrow between his eyebrows is ever-present; he’s frowning slightly even in his sleep. Over the prominent slope of his nose, your eyes land on his lips. The warmth of the apartment wraps around the two of you like a cocoon, a fleeting reprieve from the whirlwind of the restaurant. You don’t remember being this warm and comfortable, and you indulge yourself, letting your eyes flutter shut again and silently enjoying Carmy’s immediate nearness, your temple leaning against his shoulder.

When Carmen stirs again, there’s a faint touch of his knuckles against your bare side, where your sweater’s ridden up. The touch sends a small shiver through your body, delicate but impossible to ignore. Your heart stumbles in your chest, and before you can second-guess yourself, you shift your hand just slightly, letting your fingertips graze his. It’s enough to make him move more fully. His breathing changes—slower, more measured—and you know he’s awake now. Somehow, he gets bolder—his hand trailing along your skin, his palm sweeping down to your hip and up under your breast. You have to bite your lip to keep from making a noise.

Carmen shifts his weight, all pretense of sleeping left behind, as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, burying his face into the point where your shoulder meets your neck. His nose is cold and his lips hot, creating a deadly combination.

“Sorry,” he speaks up at last, his voice rough from sleep. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” “That’s okay,” you shake your head softly, glancing down at where his arms cross on your stomach, holding you. Your heart stumbles in your chest, and before you can second-guess yourself, you move your hand to cover his, acknowledging what’s going on. Carmen hums contently into your skin, tilting his head to lay close-mouthed kisses on the side of your neck. Automatically, your hand goes up and slightly behind to bury into his curls, and this time you let out a deep, shallow sigh. Needing to ground yourself, your other hand travels up, to lightly grip Carmy’s thick, tattooed forearm.

He shifts just slightly, moving so you face each other fully on the couch, hands lingering on your waist. You tilt your face up toward him, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. Carmen moves one of his hands up hesitantly, brushing against your jaw. His thumb skims your cheekbone, the touch so tender it nearly undoes you. He leans in slowly, but it’s you who closes the distance instead, your lips meeting his in a kiss.

And you love kissing Carmen. He does it with intent and a clear intention to please. He always cups your jaw and cheek in his large palm, and you love it. You love when he touches your face. It makes you feel even closer to him. You’ve only kissed him a handful of times, fleeting moments when the chaos quieted enough for vulnerability to peek through. Like the night you and Natalie realized The Bear was finally in the green, your shared relief spilling into celebration. Or the time you’d dared to ask him about Michael, the weight of his loss shared in silence.

That night, you knew he wanted to fuck you. You wanted it too, desperately. But instead of giving in, you’d pulled back, cheeks flaming, retreating with a nervous laugh and a hurried excuse. Since then, things have been... steady. Careful.

Carmen’s tongue is insistent yet gentle, as he licks into your mouth, and you tilt your face just so to give him better access. The Elf flickers on the TV, Buddy's chaotic cheer dimly illuminating the room. Neither of you is paying attention.

Each touch feels deliberate, like he’s memorizing you with his hands. Unbidden, you shift closer, your knee brushing his, your chest pressing against his as the kiss grows more heated. There’s something both unhurried and desperate about it, and you hesitate over how to let him know what you really want this time. You tilt his face up, revealing his long neck, kissing down the column of his throat just to buy some time.  Just a little bit, to clear your head.

You’re both breathless when you pause, wide-eyed and staring into each other. There’s so much in his gaze that you feel like you’re going to burn with need—for this man, for the most talented chef in the world, for the scared boy inside, for the man you’ve been falling for.

“Carmen—” you say urgently, not knowing how to continue. There’s confusion written on Carm’s face, and he takes your hand in his, bringing it to his mouth. He kisses the top of it repeatedly, making your heart ache as he waits for you to say what’s so urgent.

But you can’t make yourself. Instead, you take off your sweater, and your t-shirt too, yanking the material over your head, which leaves you in your simple black sports bra.

Your hair must be a mess, but you don’t care, any traces of shame long gone. Carmen seems to think the same, sensing the shift in the air as it grows thicker, filled with electricity. The undeniable pull between the two of you is finally materializing.

You dive back into the kiss at the same time, teeth and lips and tongues meeting, hands scrambling to grip something—anything. And soon, Carmy has you on your back beneath him. He’s busy discovering the new territory under him, while you push up his white t-shirt to get to more hot skin. It’s been a long time since you stopped lying to yourself about how attractive you find the chef. You run your nails blindly along his happy trail, enjoying the choked-out moans and quiet groans he makes.

“Fu—ck,” he stutters when you reach the root of his dick, teasing him before circling the girth of it. Pleased by his reaction, you give him a cheeky smile.

“Is this okay?”

“It—it's okay,” Carmy gets out, watching with rapture as you pull him out of his boxer briefs and sweatpants. You stroke him until precum bubbles out of the tip, a couple of beads dribbling down the length of his cock. Mesmerized, you watch the clear liquid until it connects with the ring of your fingers, then bring them to your lips, licking it off.

Carmen trembles above you. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, and you pull him into a dirty kiss, letting him taste both you and himself. He lets you jerk him off while he kisses your breasts—first over the fabric of the bra, then pulling it down to reveal their fullness and sensitive nipples. He sucks on one, then the other, completely lost in it, making so much unabashed noise you can’t quite believe this is the same Carmy you know from the kitchen. Or maybe he just can’t help himself.

Seeing him indulge in so much apparent pleasure affects you more than anything. And as much as you want to appear unbothered and in control, it’s slipping steadily from your hands. When Carmen sits back on his haunches after what feels like forever of kissing and licking, his face and neck are flushed red, sweat clinging to his hairline. You can’t believe he hasn’t come yet.

“How are you still going on?” you wonder out loud, watching his face, hand stroking his dick slowly.

“I’m pretty good at—at holding it off,” Carmy explains, his hands roaming your sides absently—your tummy, your arms—never stopping.

“Hmm, I see.” Deciding to move things along, you let go of Carm for a second to shed your leggings, with Carmy’s eager help, of course. When you settle back down, you beckon him playfully.

“Come back here.”

And he does, shuffling until he’s kneeling between your spread legs, dick out. You reach for it and rub the length against the seam of your pussy through the damp fabric of your cotton panties, making Carmy jerk and hiss, the fabric rough against his sensitive dick.

You watch him closely, cataloging every twitch of his abdominal muscles, every tick of his jaw.

“It’s okay,” you murmur sweetly, and Carmen nods, his quiet but fervent “Yeah, fuck” filling the room, his eyes never leaving where you’re holding him against your cunt.

Perhaps it was a silly decision, wanting to torture yourself like this, rubbing your clit through your panties instead of getting Carmy’s dick in you. You’re both suffering—Carmen’s mouth slack, his hips ticking forward involuntarily, completely undone. And you, moaning each time the flushed head catches on your clit or the opening, are just as wrecked.

Thankfully, at some point—before you both lose your minds—Carmen decides to take off his own underwear and pants. Then, rummaging in the drawer of his bedside table for a good minute, he turns back to you with a condom in hand.

You just nod, already pulling down your soaked panties, as Carmen puts on the condom and returns to his space between your thighs.

“You’re okay?” he checks, low and careful, which you find just outrageously sweet, before he kisses you deeply and starts pushing in.

Despite how pent up you are from the foreplay and the endless teasing, you relax the second Carmy’s in, letting out a sigh and one pretty moan just for him.

Carmen fucks like he does everything—with focus, with care. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin, anchoring you to him. Each thrust is deliberate, and you can’t escape his intense, wondrous gaze, as his eyes flick between your face and the place where his cock is repeatedly disappearing into you.

Oh, the sight of you—him in his stupidly little t-shirt all rucked up, ass naked. And you—with the sports bra the only piece of clothing still on, tits spilling out of it. It doesn’t take long before Carmy finds the perfect angle and hits your sweet spot with every single forward movement of his hips.

“Tell me how it feels.” It’s Carmen’s voice that pulls you out of the bliss.

You blink up at him, confused, your brain too foggy with pleasure.

“How does it feel?” he repeats, and you barely recognize his voice—unusually deep and choked.

'Oh god, he wants a review,' runs through your mind, thinking about how serious his possible praise kink might be. Before you come up with a reply, he touches his thumb to your clit, stroking tight circles against it with the rough pad.

“Really good,” you confess hurriedly, back arching.

Carmy’s gaze softens. “Good.” The intensity of his focus doesn’t waver; his eyes stay locked on yours even as his hand moves with deliberate precision.

“Carmy,” you breathe, barely recognizing your own voice. “Hmm?” His voice is low, rough, but there’s no mistaking the tenderness beneath it. You can’t find the words, your head tilting back against the couch as he leans down to kiss the curve of your neck. His mouth is warm, his lips soft, and the contrast between his relentless movement and gentle kisses has your breath catching. His other hand finds yours, and you let your fingers slide into his, threading them together.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

The care in his words has your chest tightening, a wave of affection mixing with the heat pooling low in your belly. You nod hurriedly, threading your fingers into his curls for something to hold onto. “It’s not—Carmy, it’s perfect.”

The approval seems to spur him on, his movements growing just slightly bolder, more confident. You can feel his breath on your skin as he trails kisses along your collarbone, murmuring something you don’t catch but that sends a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

“Good,” he repeats, his voice a little steadier now, but still tinged with something achingly raw.

You arch into him, a broken sound slipping from your lips as the hold on his hand tightens and you come, eyes squeezing shut, thighs trembling against Carm’s sides.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your ear, the encouragement sending another rush of heat through you, making the walls of your pussy clench again. Through the sharp and consuming pleasure, you feel Carmen let go too, crying out hoarsely, his hips stuttering, rhythm faltering until he stops moving completely.

When you catch your breath, you fix your bra and reach down to the floor, feeling for your underwear—or at least leggings. By accident, you catch a glimpse of a scene with colorful fairy lights on the screen, and you pause.

“When I was a kid, I was afraid of the dark,” you start while putting on your clothes, still lying on the sofa next to Carmen. “For Christmas, my parents would put the tree in my room, leaving the strings of lights on even at night. They had this specific foggy—or frosty—dimmed glow. I didn’t need to sleep with the open door to the hall during the holidays. It’s been so long, but the memory of that particular light—I always remember home and Christmas,” you finish dreamily, turning to look at Carmy for the first time with a smile, feeling oddly content and relaxed.

He’s still naked from the waist down, but you don’t study that overly.

“We could try to get you the same lights. Would be nice. Would feel like home,” Carmy suggests softly, sincerely, pressing a brief, tender kiss to your shoulder.

It makes your chest tighten, and for a second, you fight back tears. You look at him for a long moment—at his rumpled t-shirt and messy hair. “You feel like home,” you whisper.

[nerdallwritey]

Perfect Every Time

Summary: You got up and joined him in the ankle deep water. “Do you want to try right now?” Astarion thought for a moment and clicked his tongue. “I have a better idea, actually.” He gave you a sideways look, his lips quirking up slightly.  “What?” you matched his smile. Rather than answering, Astarion reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.  You furrowed your brow. “Looks an awful lot like you’re preparing to swim.” He started fiddling with the clasps on his pants and groaned in your direction. “Swimming is not the only thing one can do while submerged in water, dearest.” He gave you a sensual smile that sent heat to your cheeks.  OR Before your party travels into the Underdark, you and Astarion catch one last sunrise together.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 7.2k CW: smut, reader is new to sex, hand job, piv sex, water sex, dirty talk, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, extra mild angst, soft Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), Illmater's blood-stained rack Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 4 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find the masterlist here.

a/n: Surprise!! I'm back with a new chapter of Beauty and the Bard! This part is shorter than the other ones (who cheered) because it morphed from a little smut scene into one that deserved its very own part. One million thanks to everyone who's read and enjoyed the series so far, it's so much fun chatting with you guys and hearing your thoughts and it truly means the world that you guys care so much about these goofs. I already have an idea for Part 5, so that will be coming soon, but I have a request to fill first! Thank you all for your patience. In the meantime, please enjoy our regularly scheduled silliness with Astarion and bard!tav :) (Thank you once again to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) As a reminder, the last part was the Tiefling party!

Taglist: @a66-1, @khaleesiofthewolves, @khywren, @lollipopsandlandmines, @mizuki-nautilus - Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series!

Several days had passed since the hijinxs of the Tiefling party had taken place. By now, the former refugees of the Emerald Grove were well on their way to Baldur’s Gate, the looming threat of goblins and power hungry druids far from their minds, their thoughts instead replaced with hope for new beginnings in the city. 

Just like he’d promised, Halsin had returned the next day to discuss the parasites, officially joining your party of misfits on your journey towards the Shadow Cursed Lands and Moonrise Towers. His calming presence and sage advice was a welcome addition to the group, especially given that this leadership role had been thrust upon you by the others with next to no discussion. Having Halsin around finally felt like there was a responsible adult among you. Not that you all weren’t adults, but you definitely had your… quirks. Sure, Halsin turned into a bear if he let his emotions go unchecked, but Gale was a bomb. 

As for you and Astarion, not much had really changed, you were both still yourselves, but now you openly tortured your companions with more pet names and cheek kisses and obnoxiously loud banter. Lae’zel had threatened to cleave you both in half on multiple occasions, but had yet to follow through on that threat. The others would groan loudly or avert their eyes politely.

Your days with Astarion were spent fighting side-by-side and teasing one another, and your nights were spent chatting and reading together. Aside from the physical intimacy and emotional vulnerability that came with being in a new relationship, it was really as if nothing had changed. And those were small prices to pay for where you currently found yourself: wrapped together with a trancing Astarion.

Ever since the Tiefling party, Astarion would worm his way into your tent at night. Whether he asked permission, or stayed a little too late into the night reading or talking or drinking from you; you would never ask him to leave. You’d slept together every night, sometimes beside each other, and other nights wrapped in each others’ arms. You were allowing Astarion to set the pace, as you were in no rush to get anywhere in particular. You simply enjoyed his company and his magnetic presence. 

The pair of you hadn’t been too intimate since the party, barring stolen and sometimes steamy kisses. That was plenty for you, and Astarion continued checking in to see if you were okay with his touches and advances. Whenever you assured him that you were, he’d smile and return to your lips. You never asked him for more than he was willing to give, and even though you knew he wouldn’t say anything about it, you could tell he appreciated the courtesy despite the smug mask he so often wore.

Now, you found yourself stroking your hands through his hair as he tranced on your bare chest, breathing quietly; a habit he told you he’d picked up to look more alive when prowling the Gate. 

It was funny, honestly, how sweet and unassuming he looked when he wasn’t fully conscious. And yet, you knew the kind of violence and debauchery and bad jokes he enacted and adored when he was awake. A small sound escaped his lips and you paused in caressing his hair to make sure you weren’t waking him. When his breathing returned to normal, you resumed raking your fingers soothingly over his scalp. 

The hour was a little before dawn. Truthfully, you hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, knowing that today was the day your party would pack up camp and make your way into the Underdark for the foreseeable future. You’d re-emerge eventually to find the crèche Lae’zel knew to be nearby, but the Underdark was worth investigating for the sake of further answers about the tadpoles and a possible alternate route into the Shadow Cursed Lands. Plus, Shadowheart was adamant about seeing the rumored temple to Shar hidden down there.

All that to say, you and your companions wouldn’t be seeing the sun for quite a while. The thought saddened you immensely, knowing how much the man trancing on you would miss it terribly. How cruel, you thought, that your adventure was leading Astarion back into the shadows after he’d just gotten a taste of the sun for the first time in centuries. 

“Why are you awake, my darling?” came Astarion’s raspy voice from the dark. He shifted his head to look up at you, his grip around your midsection tightening a bit, his eyes heavy with grogginess.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you admitted. “You should get a little more if you can.”

Astarion chuckled. “Too busy thinking about me to sleep? I wouldn’t blame you.”

You sighed. “And if I was?”

Astarion’s face fell a little. “Why the hells would you allow yourself to lose sleep on my behalf, pet?” His voice was soft and one of his hands unwrapped itself from your body, taking your hand, and bringing it up to his mouth to kiss the back of your fingers. He cleared his throat. “I mean, obviously I can understand why,” he tried deflecting the sweetness that had seeped into his words by injecting his tone with fake bravado.

You let out an amused breath and allowed your hand in his hair to continue petting him gently. “I want to watch the sunrise with you again this morning.”

Astarion hummed. “And that kept you awake?”

“I didn’t want to oversleep.”

Now it was Astarion’s turn to let out an amused breath. “You could have asked. I would have woken you up.”

“No you wouldn’t, you keep letting me sleep in. It’s like you enjoy watching me sleep or something, you creep.” You poked his nose playfully.

“It’s just amazing how much drool someone of your stature can produce.”

You smacked the side of his head and he laughed softly. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a little while before you decided to speak again.

“This will be the last sunrise we see for a while.”

Astarion let out a long sigh and remained silent. After a moment, he said, “I know.” 

He sounded sad. 

“It’s not forever, though,” you assured, moving your hand to stroke his cheek and regaining his attention.

He chuckled. “I know that, too.”

You yawned, a little more loudly than you meant to. “Good. I promise you’ll see the sun again.”

Astarion tsked. “Honestly, darling, did you get no sleep at all?”

“I got a little,” you lied.

He held your gaze, lifting a skeptical eyebrow. “I don’t believe you.”

“What does it matter?” you asked, caught. “I can handle a little lack of sleep.”

Astarion rolled his eyes and sat up to look at you more directly. “It matters because we need you alert. None of us knows what awaits us in the Underdark and I- we can’t have you getting hurt because you didn’t get enough rest!”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured, bending upwards to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Besides, I’ll have you to protect me when I get sloppy.”

Astarion groaned. “You shouldn’t get sloppy,” he complained. “I swear, if you somehow hold us back down there, I’ll slaughter you myself.”

“Promise?”

He groaned again. “Would you, just once, allow me to threaten you seriously?”

“No,” you patted his cheek lovingly. 

He sighed and pushed some of his mussed hair out of his face. He took your hands in his. “Just… stay vigilant, alright?”

“Can do,” you said, withholding another obvious yawn.

“I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

He shook his head at you and sat up fully, stretching his arms above his head and giving you a clear view of the scar on his back. You sat up and kissed his bare shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” you repeated.

“Mhm.” Astarion passed you one of his shirts. “Come on, darling, let’s get a move on.” He tossed on a spare shirt and watched you as you pulled his shirt over your head. 

“There’s still a little time before sunrise,” you said.

Astarion snorted and fixed some of your hair that was sticking up from putting on his shirt. “You could stay here if you want. Drown in your own drool. Up to you.”

You huffed at him, making him laugh again.

“Only joking, my love.”

“Sure,” you said, opening the flaps of your tent and crawling out into the blue that preceded dawn.

You went to stand, but felt Astarion’s cool fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you back. He turned you slightly and caught your lips in a kiss, one that wiped away whatever fake ire you had towards him and replaced it with a dopey grin. 

“What was that for?” you asked when he pulled away.

“Delicious,” he breathed, raising a seductive eyebrow. 

You laughed and grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

You’d only been able to catch two more sunrises with Astarion following the one you watched the morning after you’d slept together for the first time. You’d woken up once on your own after Astarion gently shifted himself away from you, and another time when he woke you up purposely, not wanting to be alone with his thoughts. You’d whine and moan whenever he let you sleep in, despite the fact that it was probably for the best to keep you in tip top shape for fighting and recharging your magic. He’d always find his way back to you, and you knew he needed his own space sometimes, but you still loved to watch him bask in the golden light of the morning and you couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed whenever you felt his gentle hand on your back before opening your eyes and seeing that the sun was already up.

Astarion led you through the forest again, his hand holding yours firmly. You knew your way to the ravine lookout by now, but you liked not having to take the lead for once. He helped you across the little stream that led into the clearing where you first laid together and you felt your cheeks flush at the memory.

“I can hear your heart picking up speed, darling.” He turned to smirk at you. “You’re adorable.”

“Pardon me for still being shy,” you half-joked.

“Mmm,” Astarion hummed. “I’ll pound that out of you eventually.” He furrowed his brow sensually at you and you scoffed.

“Shut up.”

“I, of course, don’t have to-”

You made a whiny sound and he laughed.

“I know, my love,” he said, removing his hand from yours and instead wrapping his arm around you to pull you close. “You’ve been so patient for me,” he nipped at your earlobe. “So good.” 

“I’m in no rush,” you reassured on a shaky exhale. 

Astarion made his own whiny sound and pulled you closer, leading you to the cliff’s edge where he’d opened up to you willingly for the first time, just a few days ago.

He sat, pulling you down with him, far enough away from the edge, where he knew you wouldn’t be nervous of falling. In the distance, the sky was just starting to indicate the sun’s arrival. 

You sighed happily and rested your head on his shoulder. You felt him tense a little. “Is this alright?” 

Instead of answering, he leaned his head on top of yours. 

“What’s something you want to do in the Underdark?” you probed.

Astarion groaned. “You don’t need to make small talk with me, darling, sometimes silence is golden.”

You scrunched your nose, knowing he hated pure silence. “I wasn’t being polite, I genuinely wanted to know.”

He groaned again. “Even worse.”

You laughed lightly and felt him laugh too, his arm gently shaking against your own. 

He thought for a moment before he responded. “That Zhentarim fellow we met mentioned a cache of supplies hidden somewhere down there. That might be fun to pillage.”

You laughed. “I’m surprised you ever stopped thinking about that!”

“Oh I didn’t, but I wanted you to think your little thought experiment had actually evoked some sort of… thought… in me.” He made a face.

“Want to try and rephrase that?”

“Not particularly.”

You hummed fondly, taking one of his hands in your own and examining how your fingers slotted together just so. 

“I suppose you want me to ask you the same question?” Astarion asked, clearly not wanting to ask.

You laughed. “Your interest in my interests always astounds me, Astarion.”

He rubbed his cheek against the top of your head. “Get better interests and I might actually want to pay attention.”

“Rude,” you muttered, a smile on your face. “But since you so desperately want to know, I’ll answer anyway.”

“Oh, goodie.”

You thought about it. There wasn’t actually all that much you knew about the Underdark, aside from the few mentions of it in the books you’d read growing up. One thing did stick out in your mind.

“Singing mushrooms.”

“........What?”

“I read somewhere that apparently there are colonies of sentient mushroom people who communicate through song.”

Astarion pulled his head off of yours to hang it in front of himself instead, groaning loudly. “That sounds like a nightmare.”

“It’s not! It’s fascinating!”

“Sentient mushrooms?”

“Yes.”

“That sing?”

“Yes.”

Astarion shook his head. “Am I still asleep? Do you hear yourself?”

“I’m not making it up!” you exclaimed incredulously. When he didn’t say anything else, you crossed your arms in front of yourself. “We’re going to see the mushrooms.”

“Whatever you say, darling.” He kissed the top of your head almost pityingly. 

“You’re an ass,” you said, pulling away from him and sitting back on your forearms. The sky was turning a faint pinkish orange in the distance. You snickered to yourself. “More like Ass-starion.”

The ass in question scowled. “That will not be one of your pet names for me.”

You shrugged. “I’m surprised no one’s called you that before.”

“I’ve been called far worse.” Astarion tilted his head up pompously, as if nothing you could say would hurt him.

“Okay great, so ‘Ass’ is nothing new.”

He sighed heavily. “It’s like you want me to throw you off the cliff.”

“Go ahead,” you challenged, catching his eye mischievously, knowing his threat was empty. 

Astarion looked at you and then towards the horizon. He inhaled deeply and rose to his feet. 

“What are you doing?” you laughed nervously as he approached the cliff’s edge that gave way into the ravine below. 

He peered over the edge, his brow furrowed in deep thought. 

You shifted uncomfortably and sat up completely straight. “Astarion, please be careful, you’re making me nervous.”

He ignored you and walked along the edge, looking past a batch of trees and into the distance to your right. He nodded and turned back towards where you sat.

“Up you go,” Astarion approached you and gestured his thumb upwards, indicating that he wanted you to stand. When he reached you, he helped you to your feet.

“You’re not actually going to throw me off the cliff, are you?” You kept your tone playful, but the anxiety you were masking was obvious.

Astarion smirked. “Stop annoying me and I won’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes and began to follow him as he started walking to the right, down a slanted slope and into a patch of trees. 

“What’s happening?” you asked when you caught up with him.

Astarion tilted his head. “I just thought an occasion such as this needed a change of scenery.”

“‘Occasion?’” you echoed.

He nodded. “It’s my last day in the sun-” he saw you about to protest and quickly added, “-for a little while. Might as well start the day off right.”

You hummed. “Why do I get the sense that you’re up to something?”

Astarion stopped in his tracks, a hand held to his unbeating heart in mock offense. “Me? Up to something? You’re far too paranoid, darling.”

“Uh huh.” You kept walking, but quickly realized you didn’t actually know where you were going. You looked back at Astarion for help and found him watching you. 

He rolled his eyes affectionately. “This way, dear, it’s not much farther.” He walked past you, deeper into the trees, and kept talking. “Did you know that that ravine we’ve been sitting above gives way into what I can only assume is either the Chianthar or the Sea of Swords?”

“I didn’t,” you said. “Though those are two very different bodies of water.”

“Give me a break, my geography lessons occurred well over 200 years ago. And we’re in the gods damn middle of nowhere, might I remind you.”

“Mhm,” you affirmed with a smile. “Go on.”

“Well, it just so happens that that ravine’s mouth isn’t far from our little sunrise spot.”

“‘Our?’” you teased.

“Focus, darling,” he said. He turned to the left, leading you back towards the cliff’s edge that had continued along the treeline.

“Astarion, please be careful,” you called after him, hesitantly following him towards the sound of rushing water. 

He turned back and held out a steadying hand for you as you approached the edge. Not too far below you were narrow rapids that gradually became calmer. The cliff that had been on the other side of the one you currently found yourself on had disappeared, forming a mouth where the ravine did in fact empty into a much larger, much calmer, body of water.

You wrapped your arms around Astarion’s middle to anchor yourself and leaned forward a little to see where the cliff you were on ended. A little farther down, you squinted to adjust your eyes to the dim lighting, and saw a tiny beach that quickly shot upwards into a new cliff. Rocks surrounded the shore, keeping it slightly out of view, and gentle waves lapped at the sand, far enough away from the rapids of the ravine to remain serene.

You caught Astarion’s eye and pointed towards the small patch of sand in the distance. “Is that where we’re going?”

Astarion pursed his lips. “Yes, that would be much easier than jumping in, wouldn’t it?”

You scoffed. “You expected me to jump in from this high up? There could be rocks we can’t see! And we don’t know how deep it is!”

Astarion sighed. “You’re no fun. Though I suppose you’re right, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” With your arms still around his middle, he started walking back into the trees and down towards the tiny beach. 

You laughed as he dragged you along. “You can’t possibly be serious. You’d get your hair all wet!”

“Nobody said I was going to jump in with you,” he teased.

“I’m not going in alone,” you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Pity,” he tutted. “I like it when you’re wet.” He smirked and you shoved yourself away from him. 

You picked up your pace to put distance between the two of you. When you didn’t hear his footsteps gaining on you, you decided to quickly slip behind a tree, hoping you’d lost him and that you’d be able to jump out to scare him as he sauntered past.

Unfortunately, nothing but silence greeted you. After a heartbeat or two, you peered around the trunk of your hiding spot but saw no sign of his sleek frame or shock of white hair. You started to second guess yourself; was it possible he’d passed you already? Or that he stopped, out of sight for some reason? 

“You’ll have to do better than that, darling,” came his voice softly next to your ear.

You yelped and clutched at your heart, which raced with surprise. 

Astarion sighed happily. “I do love the sound of your blood pumping.”

“How do you do that?” you asked, breathing deeply to calm yourself. 

“Years of practice.” He paused. “Centuries, even.”

You conceded with a nod. “I shouldn’t have even tried.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. The effort was hardly there, either.”

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes and continued on through the trees down to the beach.

“I mean honestly, have these weeks on the road with me taught you nothing about stealth?”

“I play music for a living. My job is making noise.”

“And I don’t know why I even try at this point.” He raised his eyebrows playfully.

“You like my noise,” you said, sing-songingly. 

“You’re loud, I’ll give you that.”

It was then that you emerged from the trees and onto a grassy dune that sloped downward onto the flat sand below. You slid down the dune with as much grace as you could muster, only falling on your ass once, before taking off your shoes and sinking your toes into the cool sand that made up the shoreline. Astarion followed after you, his long strides keeping him upright and as elegant as ever. He came to stand next to you, taking his own shoes off and placing them neatly beside yours.

You exhaled wistfully and grabbed Astarion’s bicep, leaning your head onto his shoulder. From here, you had a clear view of the sun on the horizon. The sky was a deep shade of pink, giving way to golds and oranges the closer you watched. You looked at Astarion, whose eyes were focused on the sunrise in the distance. 

“What are you thinking about?” you asked quietly.

Astarion looked over at you and blinked. Then he smiled. “Just that it’s truly a wonder you’ve made it this far in life.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, shocked and amused.

You could tell he was holding in a laugh. “You are inept at hiding and fall down sand dunes. What were we thinking when we started following you around Faerûn?”

“I’ll push you into the water, pretty boy.”

“I’d pull you in with me, my love.”

“Touché,” you smiled and released his arm, sitting on the sand. You pulled your legs to your chest and rested your cheek on your knee. Around you, reeds and tall grass swayed in the morning breeze. Astarion remained standing, watching the horizon. 

As much as you enjoyed watching the sunrise, you enjoyed watching Astarion watch it more. The way his attention became transfixed on the sky, the way the vibrant light painted itself onto him like a blank canvas, the way his entire body relaxed when the warmth of the sun finally reached his skin. 

You heard him sigh and watched as he walked forward a little, allowing the tiny waves rolling off the water to rush gently over his toes. He flinched a little in shock and you let out an affectionate breath through your nose.

“Cold?” you asked.

“You know, it’s funny,” Astarion said, his voice a million miles away. “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to move through water like this.”

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brow. “I’ve seen you in the lake at camp before.”

“I don’t know, I guess I haven’t given it too much thought until now. Normally, I can’t move through running water like this. Don’t ask me why, it’s one of those idiotic vampire laws dictated by some ancient devil with an infuriating sense of humor. I can bathe, sure, but I haven’t been proper swimming since… before.”

You stayed quiet as he moved further into the water, letting the waves wash over his ankles.

“I have to imagine I knew how to swim at one point,” he said quietly.

“I could teach you,” you offered. “I was going to teach Shadowheart at some point too. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”

Astarion snorted. “And look like a fool in front of the cleric? I’ll pass.”

“You don’t need swim lessons to look like a fool,” you clarified. 

“Ha ha,” he said humorlessly. 

You got up and joined him in the ankle deep water. “Do you want to try right now?”

Astarion thought for a moment and clicked his tongue. “I have a better idea, actually.” He gave you a sideways look, his lips quirking up slightly. 

“What?” you matched his smile.

Rather than answering, Astarion reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. 

You furrowed your brow. “Looks an awful lot like you’re preparing to swim.”

He started fiddling with the clasps on his pants and groaned in your direction. “Swimming is not the only thing one can do while submerged in water, dearest.” He gave you a sensual smile that sent heat to your cheeks. 

“Oh,” you said, stiffly watching him undress. “Should I-?” you awkwardly pulled at the collar of his shirt that was currently resting on your shoulders. 

He straightened, naked but for his underwear. He frowned a little. 

“You don’t have to do anything, my love. I just thought we might have some fun while watching the sunrise.”

You bit your bottom lip, thinking it over. “I do like fun.”

“I know that about you.” Astarion walked towards you and reached for the hem of your shirt. “May I?”

You nodded and lifted your arms to help. He took the shirt and tossed it over to where he’d discarded his own clothes. He stepped closer to you, pulling you to him so that you were chest to chest, and nuzzled his nose into the area where your neck met your shoulder. He placed a slow, gentle kiss there that had you inhaling sharply and exhaling unevenly. He groaned with need before pulling back and readjusting to kiss your lips. He came at it with more force than you were expecting, causing you to stumble back a little, but his hands firmly gripped your biceps, keeping you steady. You suppressed a giggle and instead smiled against his mouth before opening up for him and allowing his tongue to meet yours. Astarion hummed with pleasure, moving his mouth against yours and bringing his hands up to tangle in your hair. When he finally pulled away, he left one more chaste kiss against your lips before fully pulling back. 

His eyes were alight with something that morphed into joy when he saw the gooey grin on your face. He rolled his eyes affectionately before looking you up and down and exhaling a laugh.

“You are perfect,” he said, almost in awe.

You smiled. “When?”

Astarion pulled you closer, his eyes narrowing seductively. “Every time.”

You snickered and pulled away from him, a teasing grin plastered on his face. You bent to remove your own pants and watched to see what Astarion would do next. When you saw him reach for his underwear, you averted your eyes and heard him laugh.

“Nothing new over here, darling,” he said, and the soft splashing sounds that followed indicated he’d walked into the water.

“I know,” you replied, embarrassed. You turned back towards him and shrugged. “Habit, I guess.”

“Well, cut it out,” he called, now knee deep in the water. His body was rigid from the temperature, his shoulders rising up to his ears. He turned back to look back at you, still standing on the shore. “Illmater’s blood-stained RACK, this is cold!” 

“I don’t know what you expected,” you called back, hugging your arms to your chest and trying to convince yourself to brave the frigid waters and join him.

“I rather expected you would be in here with me to keep me warm,” he said, turning back towards the sunrise ahead of him.

You quickly pulled off your underwear and started walking into the water, tensing at the cold, but willing yourself to keep going. 

“If you wanted my blood, you could have just asked,” you said when you finally reached him.

“There you are, darling,” Astarion said and grabbed your hand. 

“Hi,” you said softly.

“Brace yourself,” he tipped his head forward a little.

“What?”

Without warning, Astarion lowered himself into the water so that it was just below his shoulders, and pulled you down with him. You hadn’t expected to be yanked so forcefully and unsurprisingly lost your footing. You plunged downward, reaching your free hand out to break your fall and ended up dunking your face below the surface. You were submerged for less than a second, but you came up sputtering and made eye contact with a gleeful vampire. He sucked in his lips to keep from laughing.

“And what was that?” you asked blandly, flicking wet tendrils of hair out of your face.

“Apologies, darling, I didn’t mean for you to get your pretty hair all wet,” he pouted at you and sounded less than sympathetic. 

“Uh huh,” you narrowed your eyes at him. You crawled closer to him, made weightless by the water, and sat beside him, the water level reaching slightly higher on your chest than his. You scooted back a little and dragged your arm out behind you. You pushed it forward quickly, creating a splash that soaked the back of Astarion’s head. He instantly hunched forward and yelped. 

“How dare you?!” he exclaimed, his curls flattening and falling partially into his face. 

“Whoops,” you shrugged. Your eyes widened when you saw him wind his own arm back in retaliation and quickly dunked your head below the surface to avoid his onslaught of water.

When you reemerged, you heard Astarion snicker.

“Look at that,” he said, his tone mocking, “you’re all wet for me.”

You wasted no time in splashing him directly in the face.

“Let’s not do this,” he said flatly, his eyes closed. He brought his hands up to wipe the water off his face, even though his hands were equally wet.

“But now you’re all wet for me,” you teased. 

“I’ll show you what I am,” Astarion growled and took your hand underwater. He pulled you closer and led your hand to his cock, which was already rigid with desire, despite the temperature of the water. 

You made eye contact with him as you started pumping your hand up and down his shaft and he hissed out a breath. 

“Easy, darling,” he said shakily. 

“What’s the matter?” you asked, close to his ear. “Don’t you want to cum while watching the sunrise?”

Astarion groaned and you moved your hand up to swipe your thumb across his tip and then back down to continue pumping. You lifted your weightless body up and swung your leg around so that you were sitting between his legs, facing him head on with the sunrise at your back. 

“I know what would make you even harder,” you cooed, wiping wet hair out of his face with your free hand. Instead of finishing the thought, you tilted your head to the side, offering up your neck to him. 

Astarion’s eyes, half lidded with lust, went wide and looked at you. You nodded to him, and he pulled you closer to his chest, kissing your throat feverishly upon contact. Your hand was still wedged between your legs, twisting around Astarion’s length. He moaned as he nosed along your throat for where your pulse thrummed the strongest.

“Thank you,” he said before sinking his fangs into you. 

You let out a moan of your own, your mouth falling open as goosebumps broke out along your arms. The cold water mixed with the ice in your veins created a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. The hand pumping Astarion’s length started to slow as you felt yourself focusing instead on the satisfyingly dull thrum that came with him drinking from you. 

“Don’t stop,” he murmured against your skin, kissing your throat and licking a few wayward drops of blood that had escaped before returning to his meal.

You made a noise of affirmation and squeezed his dick before continuing to twist your hand up and down, from base to tip and back down again. 

Astarion whined lamely and dug his nails into your scalp and shoulder, which in turn made you moan wantonly. You rolled your hips, trying to find some relief of your own and ended up brushing your clit against the base of his cock. You both groaned in pleasure and you brought your free hand up to tangle into his hair as you continued rolling your hips. 

“Hah,” Astarion huffed sweetly as he pulled himself away from your throat, his cool breath made warm by your blood. He licked at the wounds he left behind and kissed them gratefully before angling his head to kiss your mouth deeply.

The metallic tang of your blood on his tongue sent a chill through your body and you opened your eyes when you felt Astarion’s hands make their way to your hips. You broke the kiss to give him a curious look. 

He returned your look with a blissed out smirk. “I want you to ride me,” he drawled. 

Your eyes widened and the hand that was still working his cock slowed to a stop. 

He surged forward to kiss you again and moved his hands to your ass, where he lifted your weightless form to position you over his length. 

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I thought I was close to getting you off.”

“You were, sweet girl, but I’d much rather finish inside, if it’s all the same to you.”

Your lips quirked up. “I think we can make that work.”

Taking his cock into your hand again, you guided the head to your entrance before sinking down on him slowly. Astarion’s eyes closed in satisfaction and he tipped his head up to the sky, golden light painting his beautiful face into something ethereal. You sucked in a breath and rested your forehead on his shoulder, taking a second to adjust to this new sensation. You hadn’t ridden him yet, nor had you ever fooled around in water, by yourself or otherwise. 

Astarion kissed your ear before encouraging you: “Use me, my love. You’re deliciously warm.”

You nodded and tested lifting yourself up a little and bringing yourself back down. Your mouth dropped open and you adjusted your legs so you were resting on your knees, making it easier to bob on his dick. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you lifted yourself higher and brought yourself down with more force.

“That’s it,” Astarion cooed, “take your pleasure from me.”

“Touch me,” you whined, rolling your hips and picking up the pace of your bouncing.

“With pleasure,” he bent forward to kiss your neck, bringing his hand down to circle your clit. His other hand came up to squeeze your breast. 

“You make me feel so good,” you sighed, raking your nails over the ridges on his back.

“The feeling is mutual, d-arling,” his voice caught when you brought yourself down on his cock. “And I’m the only one who can make you feel this good,” he grazed his fangs across your collarbone. 

“I don’t know,” you said, your body shuddering with euphoria, “Halsin seems like he could give you a run for your money.”

Astarion raised a disbelieving eyebrow at you.

“Teasing, my love,” you kissed him softly before letting out a loud “Ah!” when he started raising his hips to meet yours.

“Oh really?” he asked, his voice coming out like a growl. “You think Halsin could fuck you as well as I can?”

“Hah,” you half laughed, half moaned. “I think technically, in this position, I’m fucking you?” A lopsided grin graced your lips. “But I don’t know, I’m new to all this.”

“Funny,” Astarion remarked sarcastically and pulled his hand away from your clit, making you whimper in protest. 

“Hey!”

“Take it back.”

“Take what back? I already said I was teasing!”

“Say I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.”

You smiled, panting and still riding him beneath the surface of the water. “Are you jealous or something?”

“Hardly,” he rolled his eyes. “But you’re mine and it wouldn’t kill you to remind yourself of that.”

“Sounds an awful lot like jealousy to me.”

Astarion groaned in what sounded like frustration and pleasure. “Do you want to cum or not?” 

You leaned forward and kissed him deeply, moving your mouth slowly in time with the rhythm of your hips. When you pulled away, a string of saliva connected you to his lower lip. 

“Astarion,” you said softly, “I don’t ever want anyone else to fuck me. Only you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

The smirk on Astarion’s face was smug. “Because?”

You rolled your eyes. “Because I’m yours, you stupid bat.” You kissed him, then whispered conspiratorially, “And I like you the most out of everyone at camp.”

“You flatter me,” Astarion said, immediately returning to his ministrations on your clit. You gasped at the contact, which quickly morphed into a moan of delight as you rested your forehead on his shoulder again. His hips rose to meet yours once more and the moan he let out as a result sounded as if he’d been holding it in for a while. Perhaps it was to sound eloquent during your back and forth, but the noise was music to your ears.

“Am I making you feel good?” you asked a little shyly.

Astarion opened one of his eyes to look at you. “My sweet, you’ve only ever made me feel good.”

“I know that’s not true.”

“It’s not, but it is true about the sex.”

“Thank the gods,” you laughed, though you shut your eyes tightly when Astarion hit a particularly pleasant spot inside you with a roll of his hips. “Whatever you just hit felt heavenly,” you relayed to him.

“Good to know,” he said mischievously, and repositioned you on his lap so he could rise to meet that spot every time you sank down on him. 

“Oh, Astarion,” you sighed, a grin overtaking your features.

“You like that, love?” he nipped at your shoulder. 

“Yes,” you sighed again.

Your bounces on his cock were starting to become sloppy as the knot of your climax began to build low in your stomach. You moved your hand to his and reversed the direction he was currently circling your clit.

“I’m close,” you confessed.

“Thank the gods, so am I,” Astarion’s voice was strained.

You opened your eyes to watch him as he approached his own peak and exhaled dreamily at the sight of him, bathed in the orange glow of the sun which was now halfway risen. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, “and I like you so much.”

“Don’t make me throw up when I’m trying to cum,” he opened up an eye and smirked at you. “You’re not half bad yourself, gorgeous thing.” He groaned when you sat back down on him forcefully. “Now, would you cum for me already? I’m dying here.”

“Almost there,” you laughed. “And you’re dead already.”

“You’re making this very difficult, darling.”

“Let me help you then,” you said, reaching a hand forward and lightly caressing his balls.

Astarion’s mouth hung open in silent pleasure, his fangs glistening in the emerging sunshine. He watched you wordlessly as you leaned forward.

“You’re so powerful,” you purred next to his ear. “You make me feel so good, and you’re the only one who can fuck me this well. The others will never know how good I feel because I’m yours and I’ll only ever be yours. You’re the only one who will ever be inside of me.”

“That’s right,” he groaned. “Your cunt is mine and I love the way it feels around me. The way it grips me so tight. You filthy thing, letting a vampire take your innocence. I could have killed you and instead I brought you the most pleasure you’ve ever felt. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “Astarion, please. Need to feel your cum in me.”

“You want this cock forever, darling? Prove it. Prove you want it by cumming for me and screaming my name.”

His command brought you to your peak and you wailed out in pure ecstasy. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, over and over, and your cunt gripped him like a vice, as if claiming it for itself. In return, Astarion groaned loudly and spilled inside of you, moaning your name repeatedly and throwing his head back in rapture and delight.

As you came down from your high, you leaned forward to place sloppy kisses on his exposed throat. He brought both his arms around you and pulled you closer as he returned from his climax. 

“You are-” he didn’t finish his sentence before crushing his lips into yours, moaning pathetically and you giggled in response. He bit your bottom lip with his blunt front teeth before releasing it and peppering kisses along your cheeks and jaw. 

“Go on,” you teased, encouraging him to finish his thought.

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but instead gave in and said, “You’re wonderful.”

The words caught you off guard and you bent forward to kiss him in a way that you hoped conveyed your gratitude. 

“I think you’re wonderful, too.”

“Obviously,” Astarion smirked.

You pushed him backwards, causing him to slip and submerge his head fully underwater briefly.

“My hair was just starting to dry, you wretched beast!” he sputtered, looking appalled. 

“Aw, but you’re so pretty like this!” You brushed some wet hair out of his eyes.

“Um, hello? I’m always pretty, darling.”

“Ah, you’re right, how could I forget.” You gingerly lifted yourself off of Astarion and floated yourself to sit beside him, facing the sunrise. 

“Perhaps you’ve had the lovely head of yours hit in battle one too many times.”

“That must be it,” you agreed jokingly, resting your head on his shoulder. 

He leaned his head on top of yours in return. You sighed happily, enjoying the vibrant hues of the sky above, still filled with the euphoria of your high and the presence of the man beside you.

“I really do like you, so much,” you said softly, accompanied by the quiet lapping of the waves on the shore nearby.

“Ugh,” Astarion groaned. “Let’s not get sentimental, darling. After we just had such an excellent time together.”

You laughed. “Pardon me for wanting to express my feelings.”

“You are pardoned.” He gave you a sideways smile. 

“Thank you, Mr. Magistrate.”

“Of course, beloved citizen.”

You both laughed quietly and returned to a pleasant silence. The sun rose steadily up into the sky and you knew you’d have to head back to camp soon to help pack up, but for now, you were content to sit and watch the horizon with your favorite traveling companion. 

“How are you doing that?” Astarion asked, breaking the silence.

“Doing what?”

“Tickling my thighs. Did you cast mage hand or something of the sort?”

You sat up a bit more to look and snorted. 

“Astarion, my love, I think it’s a fish that’s tickling you.”

“Ah,” he said calmly. Then he shot up, flinging you backwards and underwater. When you came up for air, he was rushing towards the shore, barreling through the water.

“At least it had the decency to wait until we were finished!” you called after him.

Astarion ignored you. “Slimy, disgusting, vile creatures!” He shook out his entire body as if he couldn’t rid himself of the sensation.

You watched him with adoration as he muttered to himself about how irredeemable that particular fish was as he pulled on his pants. It was then that you felt your heart swell with something big and alarming.

Oh no.

You were in love with him. 

Fuck!

[aaronsinferno]

“Buck and Eddie have history”

But they aren’t romantically involved or attracted to one another. Does that make sense? What is it about that in universe fact that’s so hard to get around? Eddie doesn’t like Buck romantically because he’s canonically straight. Meaning he likes….women.

Buck is now openly bisexual. This is something that he has recently come to realize about himself thanks to Tommy, a guy that he really likes. Do Buck and Tommy have history? No. Does that hinder the relationship in any way? Also no. They have time to get to know each other and build those connections. That’s how relationships work.

“BuckTommy shippers are only in it for the sexual tension because all they’ve done is kiss.”

We didn’t make them kiss. We didn’t beg the writers to make them do what they’re doing with that relationship. We’re part of that journey just like everyone else. And for us, it works. None of use here is against kissing. We all have read a fanfic or two.

And It’s not like Tommy is boring and doesn’t have any personality. He’s not a horrible character. This relationship not only helps Buck progress as a character and gives him new and unique storylines to explore, but it helps build Tommy’s character as well.

Why would we be against any of this? What about any of this comes off as unappealing?

[20-th-centurygirl]

watching you watching me

jude bellingham x fem!reader

warnings: smut

a/n: written for my beloved @judeswhore , based on this ask by @judethluvr on her account. this idea has me dizzy and if i could live this life then i would happily become a gym rat x

this also ended up becoming way longer than i planned but yolo 🤭

masterlist

Dating an athlete came with numerous perks, and jude's figure was one of them. Being with jude had pushed you to become a self proclaimed gym rat but you'd never actually worked out with him. But in this moment you were questioning why.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from Jude, the way his skin was glistening with a thin layer of sweat, his biceps and the muscles in his thighs flexing in a way that made you dizzy. The thin, white top he was wearing was sticking to his skin and you could faintly see his abs through it, and his stupidly tiny shorts that displayed both his thighs and cock perfectly were making you feral. You couldn't focus, the sit ups you were doing had been long forgotten as the dirty thoughts running through your head took full control.

He'd noticed your staring out of the corner of his eye, a cocky grin plastered on his face. He turned to face you as he slowly lifted his shirt over his head and flinging it across the room. Without breaking eye contact with you he grabbed a bottle of water, taking a large gulp before pouring some on his head. Your jaw nearly hit the floor as you watched the water drip down his chest. "You're catching flies baby" he spoke, pulling you out of your trance.

You closed your mouth as you tried to shift your focus back onto the task you'd started but you just couldn't. The way his biceps moved everytime he curled a weight was driving you absolutely insane and you couldn't stop thinking about his muscles flexing like that by your head as he was ontop of you. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours angel?" He questioned, moving to stand above you. The way he was towering over you somehow had your underwear even more soaked than it originally was.

He reached down with his hand out to help you stand as he guided you over to the bench on the other side of the room. He sat you down on his lap, both of you facing the large mirror opposite. He maintained eye contact with you through the mirror, his gaze burning holes into you. "I asked you a question" He said a little louder, squeezing your thigh gently. "I was thinking about how good your thighs looked, the way your arms looked, your abs with the water dripping down them, your hands, the way your fingers curled around the weights" you mumbled, your face flushing as jude still stared into your eyes, his cocky smirk growing impossibly larger.

"That all? Or did you have any other ideas?" His eyebrow raised. "I um, I was thinking about how your fingers would look and how good they'd feel in ms, how your thighs would feel if I was riding them and how good your arms would look by the side of my head" you whispered, your face flushing impossibly redder. Judes hand began to trace shapes on your bare thigh, nudging closer to where you so desperately wanted him. "Oh yeah?" He whispered into your ear making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. His hand travelled up to the waistband of your shorts, dipping in to rub small delicate circles on your clit over your underwear. "Yeah. Need you so bad jude" you whined. "I know, I can feel it" He teased and you pulled a face at him in the mirror. "Don't get all bratty with me sweetheart, I'm more than happy to just leave you here and carry on" His voice and gaze more stern as he halted his hands actions. "No please". The grin returned, the knowledge that he had complete control and could get you so worked up satisfying him immensely.

He slipped his middle finger into your underwear, groaning at how wet you were. "Fuck, you're so wet and I've not even touched you". You mewled in response as he continued circling your clit at an agonisingly slow pace. "Jude" you whined, his pace borderline torture. "What do you need baby?" "Need you to finger me. Please jude" you couldn't decide if you were more embarrassed or turned on but you went with the latter. "Anything you want angel. Take these off for me" he gestured to your shorts and underwear and for the third time your face went bright red.

You lifted your hips up so jude could pull them both down, leaving them pooling at your ankles. "You can keep this on, it still shows what I wanna see" He gestured to your small sports bra that admittedly covered very little. You sat in the middle of his spread legs with your own still clamped shut. You weren't sure why you felt so embarrassed, you and jude had seen eachother naked more times than you could count, but this was different and you felt alot more vulnerable.

Jude picked up on your hesitance "if you don't wanna you don't have to, we can do something else" He whispered, placing a featherlight kiss to the shell of your ear. "No it's okay, it's just different" you shot him a reassuring smile in the mirror and he leaned down to place several delicate kisses on your neck as he gently nudged your legs apart. He began sucking on your neck, occasionally biting before smoothing over the spot with his tongue.

His fingers flicked your clit a few times before he effortlessly slid his middle inside you. He swiftly added a second, curling them deep inside you. Your head lolled back against judes shoulder as you let out a loud moan of his name. He gripped your chin, lifting your head up "uh uh, watch yourself in the mirror baby. Watch yourself come undone on my fingers" you bit your lip, the eye contact he was strongly keeping was making you dizzy. His thumb rubbed at your clit as his grip on your chin stayed strong. "Fuck jude. Feels so good". You couldn't help but let your eyes flutter shut but they flew open when jude halted his actions. "What did I say? Keep your eyes on me or I stop" He grunted. " 'm sorry just keep going please" jude carried on, hitting the spots deep inside you that had your toes curling. You gripped his thigh "fuck jude 'm so close. don't stop please" you whined, a string of breathy moans tumbling from your lips. Jude went faster "you look so pretty right now, cum on my fingers baby, let go for me" your head tipped back and jude allowed it, his only goal now to make you feel good. He whispered string of praises in your ear, that combined with the way he was driving his fingers deep inside you and his now hard cock pressing against your back sent you into a frenzy and you came unexpectedly all over his hand, practically screaming judes name.

You stayed in that position, your eyes closed, chest heaving as you rested against him. Jude gently removed his fingers and brought them up to your mouth for you to suck on them. You took them in your mouth straight away, swirling your tongue around them gaining a moan from jude. "Fuck. Want you to do that around my cock". You smiled around his fingers, moving to straddle him. "No, I'd rather ride you". Jude bit his lip as you pulled down his shorts and boxers before pulling off your sports bra so you were both fully naked.

You sat yourself down on him, both of you gasping in unison. "Fuck, look at you in the mirror" Jude moaned out, the sight of you clinging onto him driving him insane. You rested your head in the crook of his neck, still sensitive from your last orgasm. His hands rested on your hips, gently moving you at a rhythm that he liked as you pressed your lips to his neck. "Jude fuck. Feels so good" you whimpered and jude groaned in response, bucking his hips up into you. Your nails clawing at his back and you clenching around him had jude seeing stars. "Fuck baby, 'm gonna cum" he mumbled directly into your ear and you could only moan in response, feeling your own orgasm approaching. Jude moved one of his hands down to rub your clit in an attempt to get you there faster. You let out a loud whimper of his name followed by a string of curses as you came for the second time, triggering judes orgasm as he bucked his hips up a few times before letting go inside you. His grip on your hips didn't let up, his hands holding you close to him as he peppered your hair with kisses.

"That's one way to workout" jude teased as he tickled your sides, you reaching up to flick the side of his head in retaliation. "Only joking, I find it hot when you workout too baby, especially in those shorts" He mumbled. "It's just those slutty shorts, not sure what you're expecting from me". Jude huffed out a small laugh "maybe I put them on just for you". You said nothing, instead nuzzling yourself further into jude, not wanting the closeness to end, ever.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

been really into betrayal lately

[priceoftheduchess]

eek! i’m sorry this is smut (*-*)

cw: pegging AGHH

(1/2; john & simon)

John Price:

“John?” You ask innocently over some dinner, sitting on the couch with your husband as he pores over some bank statements. He hums curiously, his glasses perched on his nose.

“Have you ever been fucked?” You ask, and he slowly turns his head to meet your gaze.

“Me?” He asks, taking his glasses off completely. He’s a bit taken aback. You nod and he blinks slowly. “Can’t say I have.”

“What if we changed that?” You ask, and he’s even more intense in his gaze than he was before.

“What’re you sayin’, dove?” He asks, tucking the documents away into a folder and setting them on the table.

“C’mon, John,” you set your dinner aside. You stand, gently gesturing for him to get up by tugging at his shirt. He obeys and follows you to the bedroom. You feel it: he’s tense, he’s hesitant, but he’s curious. The air in the bedroom is intimate as you instruct John to lay down slowly and undress himself. He is naked as the day he was born, per your instructions, as he lays down on his back.

“I might be too old for this. New tricks ‘n’ all.” He remarks from the bed as you stand in the closet, pulling the silicone toy to sit correctly on your pubic mound. It’s average size, and not too intimidating. But John sees you as you step out of the closet and he blanches. This is what you meant?!

“Never too old,” you smile as you climb into bed, nude yourself. You reach into the nightstand and pull out some lubricant — ignoring John’s soft onslaught of questions — and setting it aside for in a moment.

You lean over his body slow, feeling pride in being about to dominate such a large, powerful man. Even if only for tonight. Your hands traced his body slow, kissing at the expanse of his hairy chest and down to his hips, biting softly at his love handles. He’s already so blissed out, and you’ve barely even touched him. He’s half-chub now, and you feel that he’s ready. So you reach a free hand down to his hole, and open him up softly — adding fingers as you go.

John is torn. Between giving into this newfound pleasure and taking back his dignity. But he gives up on his pride quickly when the cold lube hits his hole. He shivers softly and looks up at you, pupils blown and lips parted softly. His whole body is so warm, he’s on fire. He’s looser now, and you slowly tease him with the silicone. He moans, already trying to spread himself more for you.

This is strange. John laid out beneath you, silently begging for more of what you’re teasing him with. You slip the tip in, and he’s already chasing the feeling, bucking his hips to try and bury you in. You shake your head, pressing a hand over his belly-button — holding him down.

“I gotta go slow, baby.” You explain, gently moving your hips back and forth, giving John time to loosen and open up.

After a moment of adjusting, you sink to the hilt and John is gone. He’s sure he’s died and gone to Heaven. He’s the hardest he’s probably ever been, and it’s leaking obscenely against his stomach and he’s stroking himself as you bully into his hole over and over again.

His little noises are new, but God, are they nice. “More,” he’d moan, bucking his hips for more friction. “Fuck,” he’d cry out. His back arched and his toes curled as you gave it to him like he gave it to you.

He’s panting, heaving and sweating and his face is so flushed and he has never looked hotter. He eventually comes with his spend landing all over his chest and his stomach, and he’s so blissed out as you go to rinse off the silicone.

You come back to bed after tucking the toy away, snuggling up to his side. “Wasn’t that nice?” You muse, and he nods. His voice is gruff as he responds.

“Very nice, luv. Fuck. We gotta do ‘at more often.” You giggle, going to respond before you hear a soft snoring. Can you blame him, dove? You wore him out six ways to Sunday.

Simon Riley:

He’s cleaning out you guy’s big, shared closet when he finds the box that the strap came in. He opens it, to find it still wrapped and unused — as if you’re saving it for something, no, someone — and dots start connecting in his head. He knows three things are true.

1) This thing is brand new, ordered behind his back.

2) He is the only man in your life. And has been for a while.

3) Your two-year anniversary is next week.

Jesus, fuck.

Is this the surprise you’ve been planning? The thing you’ve been dancing around? The thing he’s been teased about? He doesn’t know if he should toss this and hide it away or succumb to his curiosity.

I mean, you’ve never led him astray before.

Maybe this could be nice?

You come home from work, sauntering to the bedroom where he lays — watching some trashy reality show. (He will always deny that he was watching it.) You slip into some pyjamas and toss your work clothes in a corner before sliding into bed with him. He sighs, his hand finding purchase on your ass as he wraps his arm around you.

“I found something today.” He says, a hint of a smile in his voice. You already know by his tone.

“I bet you did.”

“So, you wan’a try ‘at, aye?” He asks and you nod. You’re a bit caught off guard by the way he’s already standing and undressing himself.

“You want to try it now?” You ask, sitting up.

“Want to give my bird whatever she wants.” He answers, and it feels so Simon. Like, he’s clinging to you like a life raft and if his last breath was spent underneath you — he’d be content. You nod, and retreat to grab the new toy from the closet. The prep is relatively easy, slipping it on over your thighs and securing it.

Simon is on the edge of the bed, half-chub, when you come back.

“On your hands and knees,” you order, trying to get used to the newfound authority you have. He looks at you — amused and surprised — before obeying.

You slot yourself behind him with a bottle of lube, prepping him with a few fingers. He’s grunting even at this.

He’s finally loose enough, so you align the toy and slip it in, burying ‘yourself’ to the hilt. He lets out a groan, and is already breathing heavily as he shoves his face into the pillow to muffle himself. You tug his hair back, tutting and freeing his face.

“Need to hear you, pretty boy,” you say, finding a steady rhythm and Simon is convinced he’s died and gone to Heaven, jerking himself dryly as you work behind him. He’s done in ten minutes flat, his face red and his body heaving.

“I have never,” he starts, shocked. “Never came that fast.” You giggle, tucking the toy back into the closet and shrugging.

“You always need to trust me.”

“Mm, you can lead me blind in the dark, luv, and I’d fookin’ trust you.” You giggle and Simon is asleep, his face buried in your tits, in barely any time at all.

[art-deco-shrimp]

I'm about 2/3 to 3/4 of the way through writing my Only One Bed AU Abyss Mitigation/Fix-It SVSSS fic and I am dying inside from not having anyone to squee over it with.

IDK, like or reblog or something if you find the idea of SQQ being medically prescribed to sleep in the same bed as late-disciple-era LBH amuses you?