#I cannot be held responsible

[strinak]

fuck, AOS was such a good fandom and so much of it is purged bc it was largely on LJ. just went back and read kyliselle's Vulcan Baseball series and it is still Only on her long-abandoned fic journal.

very excited for the future of spirk (snw) and all respect and love to the ur-otp (tos) but my consuming obsession was the weird enemies-to-soulmates AU of aos

[inverse-problem]

a robot walks in with pixelated kiss marks all over its display screen saying “you should see the other bot” so you go look and there’s just a pile of crushed metal and shattered plastic and torn wires

[lunarrolls]

straight up i need to say right now, if anything happens to ghost dog i will never be okay again. it will be a category six peppermint preston moment. i will lose my mind. brennan will see me and my eight thousand shadow clones in the denny’s parking lot and he will know exactly why we have come before any of us say a word. ghost dog makes it out of this campaign unharmed or we riot

[janicesopranos]

if oasis really do reunite i will experience a level of hysteria they have not written about since the 1800s

[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!

[altschmerzes]

reflecting on seasons 3 and 4 of slow horses and i'd like to take a moment to appreciate how At Her Fucking Limit louisa guy is and for good reason. local woman who is isolated and very much alone and has just risked connecting with another person only to have that person brutally murdered now risks connecting with SECOND person only for that person to turn out to be god's least favourite court jester who keeps trying to also die on her. please give this poor lady two minutes of peace.

[hrtgallant]

the way I see it (or the way I'd like to see it written) megatron is fundamentally incorrect in treating optimus as if he is a completely different entity from orion pax, but megatron also isn't stupid. how do you square those two facts? optimus really isn't helping his own case - being prime really did change him, not as literally as megatron thinks, but it is difficult to see your former friend in someone who has ceased acting like a person. see, selflessness might have always been a part of orion, but optimus feels obligated to ramp it up to a pathological degree, proportionally (in his opinion) to the amount of responsibility he has. to him it's the most obvious thing in the world, so he never lets his guard down and never explains it. but, and here's the thing, to megatron self-preservation and self-respect are markers of personhood (which he has had to viciously defend). so of course, looking at optimus 'sacrifice for the greater good' prime he would only see some creepy drone that doesn't think for itself and about itself.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Very interesting moment to reblog this, @cilil

Obedience

@cilil - demon-spawn from Hell - has pitched two of my best boys. Of course, I could not resist! LOL 😁

Please be advised, this is a spicy fic, containing the prompt "Cockwarming" from the summerofcum prompt list.

All credit for the composition and elements goes to @cilil too. We have long conversations on discord that nobody must ever read 🙈

So...here we go...Week 2 ("Summer Festival" is still waiting for a claimer! )

Words: 1538

Characters: Eönwë x Gothmog

Prompt: Campfire - Cockwarming

Warnings: NSFW, smut, rimming, anal penetration

Eönwë looked around, scanning his surroundings frantically, as one awoken from a fever dream.

How long had he been walking aimlessly into the wilderness in his attempt to flee the busily milling crowds that he perpetually needed to inform of some Vala's new decree or prohibition?

Dutiful and sober, he did not object to the crushing workload resting on his broad shoulders but—at times—he yearned to spread his wings and feel nought but his Lord’s merciful wind against his unguarded face.

An involuntary shiver ran down his spine—even after all the time that had passed since the death of the two trees, Eönwë still struggled to remember that the silver moon gave much less warmth than the golden sun.

Sighing, he made to turn back; it was outright undignified and shameful how far he had run without noticing and now, he had been surprised by the faltering heat seeping out of the ground underfoot to dissolve in the misty night air.

Just as he took heart at the thought that he would simply hasten back to his post without wasting a single look or thought on this wild, abandoned land outside of the dwelling places of Valar and Eldar, a flicker of red caught his eye.

"It is forbidden to kindle a fire," he started to remonstrate with the delinquent who had apparently thought to counteract the creeping chill by starting a campfire to warm themselves by.

"In the name of Eru and the big bird, yes, yes," a gravelly, raucous voice drawled. "I want to draw your attention to the fact that I did not indeed set ablaze any of the hallowed creations of the high and mighty Valar you seem to serve so diligently."

Drawing closer, Eönwë stopped dead in his tracks.

What he had mistaken for a merrily burning fire was—he could now discern this with humbling clarity—the naked body of a Balrog.

"Detestable foe!" he thundered, lifting his arm as if to strike before he remembered that he had set out woefully unarmed, not expecting to meet an ancient enemy this far from the hubs of civilisation.

The Balrog turned slowly, his eyes gleaming like gems backlit by the fire of Aulë’s forge, and gave a delighted chuckle.

"If it is not the messenger bird, sweet carrier pigeon of the Valar," he purred, sitting up on his haunches without any noticeable consideration or shame concerning his shocking nudity. "You may call me 'foe' if that is your pleasure, but I'd much rather you use my name."

"Which would be?" Eönwë asked with feigned distaste and ignorance.

Of course, it was rather simple for him to recognise Gothmog—Lord of Balrogs—who had been amongst the last to have been returned to this plane of existence and granted a physical body once more.

"Have you come then to demand further penance?" Gothmog asked, a wry smile stretching his lips into something sharp and vaguely threatening. "Or is it a re-enactment of your greatest triumphs that you seek?"

Glowing eyes observed every twitch rippling across Eönwë's face with undisguised curiosity.

"Oh," Gothmog hummed, "it is a defeat you're looking for. Do you want me to take this weight off your shoulders—throw you down and hold you still? I can do that; I am good at it."

It was a bold claim that made Gothmog's tail lash about in an involuntary admission of nervousness.

To his own astonishment, Eönwë paused and considered that offer. He had not expected to find the idea so alluring, but now that he allowed himself to drink in the bulging muscles and iridescent skin of the creature eyeing him speculatively, he had to admit that his body tensed in joyous anticipation.

The thought of handing over the reins to someone else for a while sounded too delicious to be fully fathomed.

Momentarily, he hesitated but the insidious chill that was swirling up from the now damp ground was so wonderfully chased by a burning hot hand setting on his shoulder that he let out a shuddering sigh.

He was well aware of the peril he was in, but the tension between his worst apprehensions and his most depraved hopes only exacerbated his desire to lean into the yet innocent, casual caress.

"Ready to get your feathers singed, little bird?" Gothmog murmured, leaning towards Eönwë in a cloud of soothing warmth and smoky fragrance.

Elegant and elemental as a volcano bursting with veins of liquid fire, he towered over the herald in a way that made Eönwë feel almost delicate and frail in comparison.

Despite the erroneous accounts coursing through the tales of the Children, Gothmog was merely wreathed in flame rather than having actual, functional wings.

Thus, he plucked playfully at the long, white feathers covering the impressive appendages that adorned Eönwë's strong back.

"Beautiful," he whispered and started circling the radiant, immaculate hero of wars long past like a huge, hungry lizard cornering a guileless dove.

"What heinous crimes will you do unto a servant of Manwë?" Eönwë gasped as the seemingly innocuous touch thrummed along his every nerve to set his core aflame.

"Worry not," Gothmog promised, "your defilement will be wrought of pleasure and obedience."

This was a game they both knew only too well and Eönwë knees buckled automatically—he had kneeled countless times in the name of duty, and he felt no humiliation at performing this old-familiar gesture of reverence.

Already, his acute awareness of the despicable identity of the presence looming over him like a nefarious shadow was fading fast, supplanted by a shameful neediness that knew neither morality nor bounds.

"No whips," Gothmog laughed in a muted voice, "just delicious pain."

With a quick flick of his wrist—an undeniable testament to his skills—he wrapped the long, silken strands of Eönwë's hair around his palm and tugged none too gently.

Eönwë's back arched and his wings trembled, but he did not shift from his position.

Heat was flooding back into his limbs, hitherto stiff with cold, and he gave another throaty moan of relief.

"I've not even started," Gothmog jeered and, with a single swipe of his deadly claws, tore his invaluable garments, fashioned by the deathless hands of the most exalted of the Valar, right off Eönwë's pliable body.

Even though his torturer had sworn that his trusty and universally dreaded whip would not be used, Eönwë felt a lash of searing heat against his buttocks and yelped.

Still, he did not pull away as that torturous thread of magma pushed its way into his body, swirling lazily against the innermost walls of his integrity and lapping teasingly at hidden pressure points that made him see his Lady's most cherished creations dance wildly behind his closed lids.

His bones seemed to melt and, when he felt Gothmog shift behind him, he braced for the unleashing of furious violence that would burn him clean of his doubts and misgivings.

Vowing that he would not give Gothmog the satisfaction of quailing and squirming in terror, Eönwë lifted his chin proudly and fixed his eyes upon the horizon.

It was as he braced as inconspicuously as possible, that he noticed how both the cold and the pervasive boredom that had plagued him had dissolved under the ministrations of that hot tongue, opening and stretching him with the diligent, purposeful determination of one who could but obey his natural inclination to do things properly.

Pressure. Heat. Bliss.

Eönwë let out a garbled cry as a pillar of flame seemed to shoot up through his spine—part of him now almost welcomed and craved the anticipated and dreaded pain that was surely to follow.

As soon as he was fully seated within the hallowed herald though, Gothmog stilled.

Staring at the back of Eönwë's head, in a secluded, deserted clearing, he realised that he was free to do whatever he wanted to Manwë's servant.

Recollections of the exquisite works of blood and bone he had wrought in the past flashed through his mind—Gothmog knew that the storm of carnage and devastation he could unleash upon this docile pet bird would be glorious to behold indeed.

His blood sang with covetousness at the thought of hurting Eönwë in ways that would make him beg for the utter dissolution of his own flesh. Yes, Gothmog thought, the choice was his and the power flowing through his veins was intoxicating and corrupting.

To their shared astonishment, it turned out that what he truly desired was to curl around that strong, winged back and shield it from the cutting, cold air biting into their skin.

"Aren't you a pretty bird?" he cooed, carefully dislodging small fragments of twigs from between the shiny, soft feathers vacillating in front of his blurry eyes.

"What..." Eönwë gasped, pressing back into that arousing heat piercing him to the core. "Why won't you move?"

"Penance," Gothmog replied calmly and went on smoothing and petting the shivering wings with tender care while soaking in Eönwë's intimate, sweet heat with self-indulgent abandon.

"Standing still, you know," he added wisely as he pressed a searing kiss onto the nape of that slender, pale neck beckoning to him, "is not always a bad thing."

@fellowshipofthefics Here's the second one for the second week then :)

Thank you @cilil for progressively poisoning my mind! LOL This was a pleasure to write <3

Lots of love <3

[novascharms]

c.w — cun.

thinking about rafe being so absolutely pussy-whipped with his girl. thinking about him being unable to be kept from between your legs, no matter where, no matter when, he needs to have you—promises you it'll be quick, just a taste and before you know it, he's been eating you out for an hour, forcing you to cum again and again.

thinking about him stuffing you with his fingers so often to the point where you know you're gonna get it if you wear a skirt, you know he will bend you over that counter and hold a perfectly normal conversation to whichever unlucky victim is completely oblivious to him being knuckles deep into your seeping cunt.

somebody SEDATE ME.

[daily-dose-of-bucket]

Day 169: you see, this is funny because she would not say that.

[syndrossi]

I've written over 10,000 words and still don't have a complete chapter 36 because a 2.5K+ unfinished scene is either going to be chopped for a later chapter or reworked into the end of this chapter (which then pushes another 2.5K unfinished scene to the next chapter). And I'm aiming to have the chapters around 5-6K, which...is not going great so far.

Oh well. I'm guessing only 500ish words are going to be wholly discarded. (The opening to a small council meeting that ended up being written/approached differently.) And possibly a short 750-word scene that might be me focusing the camera too tight.

I'll share the latter if it's cut, though probably not the former.

Meanwhile, currently writing one of my favorite dynamics, aka Viserys and Daemon...

“Rhaegar is eight years old,” his brother said, his voice turning dry. “And yet you entrusted him with one of your precious Valyrian references. And Jon, another eight-year-old, with the key to your solar.” “Jon said that he wished to surprise Rhaegar with a book he had not read before. And Rhaegar spoke with great sorrow of your late hours before informing me that you required Aenar’s book of reflections. Perhaps it was foolish to trust them, but—” Viserys smiled faintly. “They are their father’s children.” Daemon bristled instinctively. “Meaning?” “They are charming and dogged in their pursuit of danger.”

[flickeringquip]

Convince the Fighter abstinence is bad for his health. There may be consequences(?) <<

A text continuation of this post, feat. @thedolmainblog's Blythe (shamelessly self-indulgent smut below the cut)

Your lips meet Blythe's a bit more forcefully than you intended, but you don't let that slow you down. You take advantage of his gasp to swipe your tongue against his own, hoping to entice him into responding.

Your knuckles turn white as your grip tightens on his shirt; you don't have a back-up plan to speak of, and frankly you're not sure you'd ever be able to look him in the eyes again if he shoves you away—

(1) And then he does move, but it's certainly not away.

In what feels like barely a few blinks, you find your positions almost completely reversed. You hear wood crack as it's kicked out of the way and internally thank your trusty crate for its service—

A firm thigh pushes between your own as warm hands slide over your ass with a squeeze, and then you get a taste of your own medicine as it's your gasp that's taken advantage of, this time.

(1) You don't know what you were expecting, but it wasn't quite this.

This being how you're pinned firmly to the concrete wall behind you, weight supported by the leg slotted between your own and the hands on your ass as every shift and squirm finds you inadvertently grinding down against Blythe's thigh ��� and making the most dreadfully embarrassing little noises that are only mostly muffled by the Fighter's own lips against your own.

Already you can feel the desire pulsing in your middle, can feel the heat building between your thighs with each of your little shifts and squirms, each squeeze of Blythe's hands as he kisses you like a man possessed.

(1) It's only when you break the kiss, feeling like you can't quite get enough air, that his attention shifts.

Those same lips trail down to your throat as his hands slide up to take a firmer hold of your hips — and this time there's nothing to muffle the moan that startles out of you when he sucks a bruising mark over your pulse and grinds you down harder against his thighs.

His echoing groan rumbles through you like a physical touch, tension winding hot and fast in your middle as Blythe guides your hips into a rolling rhythm against his leg — and fuck if the easy way he moves you doesn't make you burn all the hotter.

You lose a bit of time, then, losing yourself in the all-consuming onslaught of his affections. It's dizzying, overwhelming, and leaves you utterly unable to focus on anything other than him—

(1) Which leaves you caught entirely off-guard when you suddenly find yourself only scant seconds away from cumming.

"Blythe—" Your fingers fist tighter into his shirt, the only part of your positions that has remained the same, a shivery note to your voice you're unfamiliar with as your thighs squeeze around his own, not even aware of the faint quiver working its way down your spine, "W-wait a sec, I, I'm—"

Blythe, who most certainly did notice your little tremble, the way your breath begins to catch in your throat, the heat he can feel through both of your trousers—

"Cum," The order is as demanding as it is desperate, all but growled into your ear as he presses even closer, tilting your hips until the next roll of them has you loosing a stuttered cry, every inch of you going taut as a bowstring in his grasp, "Aster, cum."

(1) And really, what can you do but listen?

Pleasure crashes through you like a tidal wave, and you're only dimly aware of the lips slanting over yours to muffle noises you hadn't even realized you could make. Your body moves of its own volition, hips rocking jerkily against Blythe's thigh as you ride out your orgasm with mindless intent until you're finally spent.

You collapse against the Fighter's chest like a puppet with her strings cut, trembling all over as you try and catch your breath in the wake of such unexpected intensity. Just above you, Blythe makes a noise that nearly sounds pained, and it's jarring enough to have you lifting your cheek from his collar to peer up at him in somewhat bleary concern—

And then you're being moved again, faintly trembling hands no less strong as they hoist your legs up around his waist. You can't help but fidget, and Blythe responds by taking another half-step closer, leaving you pinned flush between him and the wall — and entirely unable to miss the firm bulge that grinds into your still-sensitive sex, hot enough to make you whine even through the layers of cloth between the two of you.

(1) "Again."

Time blurs again. You try to cling to your composure, but it's a battle you lose laughably quick when every rock of Blythe's hips sends frissons of heat shocking through you. The high-pitched little noises - nearly mewls - have you flushing bright enough to rival your hair, but it's blessedly easy to ignore, because—

Blythe seems fixated on wringing another orgasm from you just like this, grinding into you with laser-focused intensity, adapting real time to what pulls the best noises from you. Normally you'd feel a little bad at your lack of participation, but honestly it's all you can do to hang on for the ride, what with how determined the Fighter is on driving pesky little things like thoughts out of your head.

(1) Your next orgasm leaves you twice as breathless and shaky as the last, and you only just catch the muttering coming from above you.

"Not here, not here," Blythe all but chants the words, and the fingers flexing against your hips are your only warning before you find yourself plucked away from the wall, arms slipping instinctively around his neck as Blythe walks with a single-minded focus to. . . Somewhere? You get your answer when you find yourself set gently down upon a leather seat. It's Blythe's motorcycle; you've seen him on it a handful of times, but you've never been on one before. He hands you a helmet, waiting a little impatiently for you to put it on, and you're in enough of a daze from your unexpected - and successive - climaxes that you do so without even really thinking about it. He tightens it for you before getting on himself, reaching back to pull your arms around his waist, guiding you grab your opposite wrists before looking over his shoulder with a look caught somewhere between stern and feverish. "Hang on tight." (1) Why did no one tell you motorcycles vibrated so much?

End of Pt. 1(?)

[39oa]

DAL @ EDM (05.27.24) — WCF G3

[multiocular-mushroom-art]

francis madoka magica crozier

(the witch designs are here and also posted separately with some lore under the tag 'the soul gem passage')

[wolfdog1974]

cosplay