The “good Girl” After He Cums & Before He Pulls Out Is What I Live For

Y'all ever think about how Gale has daddy issues?

Y'all ever think about how Gale is very close to his mother?

Y'all ever think about how Gale deeply admires and respects his mother?

Y'all ever think about how Gale and Tara only talk about his mother, and not his father?

Y'all ever think about how the way Gale's father is seemingly, purposefully, never specifically mentioned implies that he walked out on Gale and Morena when Gale was young?

Y'all ever think about how Elminster was a young Gale's replacement father figure? (Gale was 8)

Y'all ever think about how Elminster, hopefully unintentionally, primed Gale for Mystra's grooming/abuse?

Y'all ever think about how Elminster used to be Mystra's lover?

Y'all ever think about how Gale was also Mystra's lover?

Y'all ever think about the fact that Gale knows Elminster used to be Mystra's lover?

Y'all ever think about how it was Elminster who told Gale that their ex-lover, and their literal goddess, wanted him to kill himself?

Y'all ever think about how the way Elminster told Gale their ex wanted him to kill himself was the Faerun equivalent of a video call?

Y'all ever think about how Elminster couldn't even be assed to deliver the "request" to Gale in person? (He used a simuclarion? Idk how to spell it, basically a shadow clone)

Y'all ever think about how Gale has never had a stable, healthy, normal, loving, relationship with a father figure?

Y'all ever think about how deeply and intensely Gale feels his emotions and feelings?

Y'all ever think about how Gale says he thinks he'd make a horrible father?

Y'all ever think about why Gale thinks that he wouldn't be a good father?

Y'all ever speculate on how Gale's reluctance to see himself in a paternal role might have something to do with everything mentioned above?

Because I do.

guilty pleasure this guilty pleasure that, I don't feel guilty abt pleasure, I'm not catholic

Fervency

Non-Ascended Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Synopsis: After falling into mysterious spores in the Underdark, you start to experience some... strange side effects. Astarion is more than happy to assist.

Warnings and tags: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough), aphrodisiac/glorified sex pollen, established relationship, discussions of consent, fingering, oral sex (both giving and receiving), blood drinking, multiple orgasms. Takes place post-game and includes mild spoilers.

Word Count: 5.7k

There’s not much that surprises you anymore.

It’s true - being kidnapped by illithids, having a tadpole implanted behind your eyes, facing the gods themselves - all of that does make it difficult for mundane life to come anywhere close enough to truly shock you. Your days aren’t necessarily peaceful, but they never seem quite as exciting as that blind haze of companionship in the aftermath of the nautiloid, trekking through the wilderness and shadow-cursed lands and the city, finding yourself in the company of strangers but soon-to-be family.

Still, these days, there’s something every now and then that catches you off guard. The trouble is, you’re never quite left in a space to know how to handle it. Unlike your earlier adventures, things are rarely solved with a dagger in your hand or a dash of flattery in your words. No, the burdens of day-to-day life are much more complicated than that.

Falling into a patch of mysterious spores, for one.

The Underdark is full of various mushrooms. Poisonous. Explosive. Befuddling. You could go on and on. You’ve had your number of close calls with them, but the sensation coursing over your skin feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced - and it doesn’t help that you’ve never seen spores like this.

Hells. Of course this is where your day would end up. 

Just a little stroll, you’d told yourself. It’ll be harmless. And it had been, for the most part. There’s an unearthly beauty to the Underdark that you’ve never encountered anywhere else, one you’ve come to appreciate just as much as the upper surface. But halfway through your usual route, your feet had snagged on a branch and you’d gone tumbling, and now - now you’re in a patch of glowing, red spores, feeling like…

Gods, what do you feel? 

Hot. You feel very, very hot. Sweat trickles down your back. Warmth blooms like poppies in a number of strange places - your cheeks, your lips, your neck. The feeling is spreading fast, bleeding through your ribs as you get to your feet.

Alright, you think to yourself, ignoring the sharp, bleeding panic in your throat that’s threatening to take over. Situations like this call for a sense of rationality. You’re going to get out. 

It takes much longer than it should for you to slowly stumble back to familiar ground. Your movements are jerky, as if you’re being puppeted around, and it’s getting harder to think straight when you’re feeling as if - whatever this is - is slowly consuming you. The heat is in your lungs, coursing fire near your pounding heart, raging with every inhale. 

You need to get this off of you, and as quickly as possible. After that, maybe it will fade and maybe it won’t. You’ll… you’ll figure it out. 

By the time you make it to the river, your knees are trembling so much that you nearly fall in. The water barely scratches the surface of the fire when you splash it over your skin, but the coolness of it is euphoric. You go as quickly as you can, covering area by area - your clothing, your arms, your face and neck - until most of the spores are off, but the feeling pulses and throbs in you all the same. Whatever it is, it isn’t killing you, but it certainly isn’t pleasant. 

You could tell Astarion. He’d tease you a little, but he’d also be certain to search endlessly to find something to stop your discomfort. And you ache for him. His touch, his voice, the fondness in his eyes when he looks at you. 

Had it really been just this morning when you’d last seen him? It seems like lifetimes away - lost to a very, very different type of ache in your veins that won’t seem to fade. You’ve just made up your mind to go find him, rising to your feet again, when the heat rushes to a very specific place between your legs and all thoughts of looking for Astarion are instantly cast out.

Oh, you think, somewhere between dizzy, needy, and utterly humiliated. So that’s what this is.

You’ve read about things like this - plants, pollen, potions -  but most of them had been in bad romance novels, and none of them had ever come with any mention of an antidote. And, needless to say, you won’t be making your way to the Myconid Sovereign to learn more. It’ll have to be handled on your own. 

You could risk going home and pretending to be ill, but Astarion is far too perceptive for that. He’d see through your ruse immediately. Which leaves the only option: hiding in a cave and waiting this out, praying he won’t notice you’re gone and come searching for you before you’re back.

And really, how bad can it be?

Bad. It can be very, very bad. 

You’ve been sitting in this cave for who knows how long, and your sanity is fading more and more by the minute.

It had been manageable at first. The heat spread through you like warm cider on a cold night - a slow, steady increase, the way a candle gradually burns down to the wick. You’d thought it would stop at a certain point (it had to, didn’t it?), but no. It just… kept going. 

Now, every inch of your body feels like it’s on fire, and it’s not slow, or steady, or even remotely bearable. It’s a strange, pleasurable flame, but a flame nonetheless. You can’t even decide whether touching yourself would even help at this point. Even just grazing your hand along the length of your thigh sends the fire rising, and you’re not keen on experimenting at the moment.

Your hands have gone stiff from balling your fists. Your mouth keeps switching between being as dry as sand and overly salivating. Each breath ignites more warmth, and you’ve been trembling for so long that you don’t remember how it feels to be still.

Gods. If you trusted yourself to get to your feet, you’d go see the Sovereign - a lifetime’s worth of humiliation or not. You don’t have any clue what time it is. There’s no sun or moon down here to guide you, no mechanism to spell out the hour. Has Astarion noticed your absence? How long until he’s concerned?

You know enough to know that you should have been back by now - that it’ll be unusual for you to have been gone so long. At least this spot you’ve found for yourself is relatively private. A dark, dry little place with a stone floor; fluorescent ivy in shades of lavender and coral; remote enough that, if your willpower fails and you end up making some noise, no one will be around to hear. 

You attempt to swallow, but the action dies on your tongue. You attempt to breathe, but you can’t seem to suck in any air. You’re just thinking you really might die in this painful, mortified state when the pad of footsteps on stone hits your ears, and your whole body pulls as taut as a rope. 

Oh, gods. Please not him. Anyone else. The Sovereign. The Society of Brilliance. Anyone.

But it’s him, because of course it is. He slowly makes his way inside, pressing through the narrow entrance and around the corner, and when he sees you curled against the cave wall, his brows rise - alarm.

“Wait,” you blurt out, determined to speak before he can. “Don’t come any closer. Please.”

Astarion stays where he is, but his eyes start instinctively scanning you over, searching for ailment or injury. “What’s wrong?” he asks, tilting his head. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, even though you’re anything but. You want to say more, but your thoughts trail off as another wave of heat flares inside of you. You’ve started trembling again. Your fingers accidentally graze against your thigh, and you let out a small, involuntary noise.

Astarion hesitates, then takes a step closer. “Darling,” he starts, raising a brow, “you make a terrible liar.”

Of course you can’t fool him. Not even a little. You let out a laugh, but the sound hitches into a strange, choked sob. You pull your knees to your chest and let out a long, shaking breath, trying to get a grip. “I know,” you say softly. “Gods. I’m sorry.”

He takes another step closer, and concern writes itself into his expression. “Gods below,” he exclaims. “Er - my sweet, I don’t mean to be rude, but you look...”

“Horrible?” you finish for him. “I know.” 

“I… was going to say ill, actually,” Astarion replies, laughing a little. “This dark cave lighting looks beautiful on you, my dear.”

You can’t resist another laugh. It’s less burdened this time, but it fades away as you hesitate, very pointedly gazing down at your fingernails instead of meeting his eyes. “I may or may not have fallen into a patch of mysterious spores.”

“And?” Astarion says, lifting a hand into the air and giving a small, contemplative gesture. “Go on, darling. Seeing as you aren’t dead - I’m assuming they weren’t poisonous?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard. How the hells are you going to phrase this? “No,” you answer. “I just feel… hot. Not like the explosive ones, just… hot.”

“Well,” Astarion says, “That’s… interesting. Alright - let me take a look at you.”

Half of you wants to protest, but what’s the point? He’ll find out the truth sooner or later. So, instead, you nod.

He steps closer, kneeling down at your side, and you have to ball your fists to keep from doing something stupid. You’re expecting more flame at his touch - a painful flare, like when you’d grazed your thigh - but when the back of his hand meets your forehead, his touch is like a salve. Soothing, cool, sweet. It mellows out the fire, makes you feel sane again.

You shut your eyes in relief, staying as still as you can, and when you open them, you find him giving you a look you know all too well. Smug. Affectionate. A glint in his eye that can only mean trouble.

“My, my,” he purrs. “Darling, I’m no healer, but… a racing pulse, dilated pupils, feverish to the touch? That, I know.” He leans in, his voice low in your ear. “And I can smell how much you want me.”

A shudder runs down your back, betraying you. Astarion leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours - soft and gentle and perfect - and it takes everything in you to pull away.

“Wait,” you protest. 

He instantly halts, pulling away from you and scanning over your expression. “What is it?” he asks. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine,” you say quickly. “But you don’t… I mean - I can manage this on my own, you know.”

His brows rise. “My dear, you do realize I am very capable of helping you in this situation?”

“Gods, Astarion,” you say, biting back a delirious sort of laughter. “Believe me, I’m well aware. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. I can manage this.”

A fondness enters his expression - the rare kind, reserved for the most meaningful of moments. He leans closer, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I know,” he says softly, the words tender and delicate. “Trust me. I want to do this.” He trails a finger along your thigh, and you shiver again. “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs. “And, unless I’m wrong, you’ve missed me, too.”

After searching his gaze and finding him entirely present, you let yourself relax into his touch. “I’ve missed you more than anything.”

“Good,” he says. “I was almost worried.”

He skims his knuckles over your jaw, leaning in to kiss you once more, and the flame in you seems to bend to his touch. It rages in you like a furnace, bellowing and cruel, but with every frigid brush of his fingers, the feeling subsides. Even the feel of his lips on yours seeps away the discomfort.

He’s slow with his actions, but he doesn’t tease, even though you can see the amusement in his eyes when he pulls away to look at you. He’s enjoying this, and if you’re honest with yourself, you are, too. If only it didn’t come at the price of your dignity - but if it’s going to fall away in front of anyone, it might as well be him. 

His hands slide down to your thighs, and your whole body pulls tight, torn between wanting him to touch you now and not wanting him to stop what he’s doing.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against your ear. “I’ve got you, darling.”

You let out a shaky breath and try to coax your body into cooperating, shutting your eyes and letting the feel of him drown out the path of your thoughts. The sensation of his mouth, trailing down your neck, ranging between feather-light kisses and the barely-there sting of his teeth against the skin, making every inch of you melt into his touch like clay. His hands, sliding to the front of your top, deftly unlacing it and pulling it away from your skin.

Thank the gods no one is anywhere around this area - if anyone were to interrupt you, you’re sure you’d die right here and now. The simmering need that lies under your skin is bordering on painful, a white-hot delirium of impatience that will not be ignored any longer.

Astarion’s fingers skim across your sternum, further soothing the burning inside your chest, and his lips soon follow downward. You let out a soft noise from the back of your throat, something choked and desperate, and he hums against your skin in response.

When your eyes flutter open again, you find that he’s staring up at you as he kisses down your abdomen, eyes dark and hands curled lightly around your ribs, ardor and affection both palpable in the heat of his gaze.

Your instinct is to shut your eyes again - to shut out the intimacy and vulnerability that comes from holding his stare - but you don’t. Instead, you move the stiff muscle of your arm and coax your hand into working again, gently tangling your fingers into the silky-smooth, silvery curls in your lap.

He gives you a roguish grin, tugging on your bottoms until they finally, mercifully, pull away from your skin, leaving you in nothing but your smallclothes.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he mutters, the words dark and heavy on his tongue, but they feel more for him than for you. His brows crease together and his actions turn sure and firm and quickened - as if he can’t wait to have his mouth on you.

Beautiful. It’s the second time he’s called you that word tonight, but it doesn’t stop the heat from rising back into your cheeks, and that feeling of the warmth seems to spark a chain reaction. 

It’s as if his voice is stoking the fire - more heat, all rushing to the very place his lips are heading to now, only to be soothed by his touch. He gently pulls at your thighs, coaxing you to lay on your back, and you’re so desperate that you nearly knock your head against the hard floor laid out beneath you in your effort to obey.

Your mind isn’t processing things the way it usually does: in an even, progressing line of events, every moment spread out from one to the next. Rather, everything comes in bursts of feeling, flashing between being a thousand miles away and all too close, all too present. You barely feel the graze of fabric when he removes your smallclothes and leaves you entirely bare, but the gentle, wet press of his tongue against you feels amplified a thousand times over.

“Astarion,” you gasp, your hand tightening in his hair. 

He hums again, and the feeling of it has you shivering, muscles going slack in pleasure. Short, soft flicks of his tongue over your clit and you’re left a shuddering mess, not thinking to try to be quiet - not really thinking at all, anymore. He grips at one of your thighs, looping it over his shoulder as he pulls away for a moment, nipping at the tender flesh there. Soothing it with a gentle kiss, then returning to his work.

You’re a walking - or perhaps laying - contradiction. Your arousal is lava hot, but your pleasure is cold as ice. You can’t decide if you’re cold or hot or both or neither. You’re not in a place to think, not as blinding bursts of pleasure course up your spine, rendering you a lump of skin and bones and not much more. His mouth is nothing if not fervent.

You aren’t sure how long it lasts - your hand in his hair, his mouth against you, writhing in dizzying pleasure against the hard, stone floor and barely feeling the discomfort. It might not be very long at all - but it feels like hours before his fingers enter you.

You’re soaking wet. If you weren’t so focused on, well, everything else, it’d be humiliating. Still, when two fingers slip into you and meet no resistance whatsoever, Astarion groans. The pace he’s setting with both hand and tongue is torturous, slow and even, and it takes everything in you not to beg him for more. 

But when he goes a little faster, a moan pulls from your throat, and you look down to find him grinning as he pulls away, fingers still at work. “Look at you,” he says, praise lilting the words as he curls his fingers - sending your hips rolling. “You’ll come for me, won’t you, darling?”

And as if he’s flicked a switch in your mind, you’re coming around his fingers, gasping and shuddering and clenching. Electricity seems to coarse through your veins, hot and sharp, flaming and radiant, and when it’s gone, there’s only the slickness between your thighs, a slight breathless laughter that escapes from you without a thought, and the fading warmth of the spores.

For a moment, it seems as though there might be relief. Your thoughts clear and the heat wanes, but after a sparse second or two of relief, it comes back as strong as ever. 

You’d be disappointed at its reappearance, but then Astarion is crawling over you, using his knee to coax your legs apart for him, so how could you ever be disappointed? Everything else slips away except for him. His eyes, dark with want, his lips, molding against yours, his tongue, gently pressing into your mouth as he buries a hand in your hair.

He’s hard for you. You can feel it, and that realization has you grinding against him. He groans, cursing under his breath, then reaches down to undo his trousers. “Are you ready for me, love?” he asks, his voice half-broken with want.

You laugh, still trembling from your climax. “You know I am.”

“Mm,” he hums, his eyes glimmering in the dark. “But maybe I wanted to hear you say it for me, darling.”

Gods. He’s beautiful - always so beautiful - even here, in this dark, cold cave you’ve found. A work of art down to the dark circles under his eyes, the crow’s feet around his eyes, his smile lines. 

You could spend a thousand years studying the art of him and never, ever get bored; not of his voice, and the way his confidence sometimes, ever so rarely, breaks into something real and raw. Not of his hands: nimble fingers and the calluses from his blade and soft skin - and not of his eyes, which seem both dark and light depending on his mood, and which can seem so sharp and severe at times, but sometimes soften into something soft and round. Sometimes. When they’re looking at you.

You could spend a thousand years admiring him and never, ever get tired of him, and never, ever deserve him. And he’d never believe it.

He’s noticed you staring, because of course he has, and he tilts his head. “What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours?”

You can only smile, deliriously happy and wanting and both hot and cold - hot where the warmth burns uncontained, and cold everywhere his skin meets yours. “I love you.”

Your words must catch him by surprise, because it’s shock that meets his expression first. It fades away into affection, placing itself on his lips in a soft smile. “I - I love you too,” he answers, brushing a stray strand of your hair out of your face. “More than anything.” 

He clears his throat and shifts, and as you feel his erection brush against you, only then do you remember the conversation you two had been having. Him between your legs. You, still needing him inside of you.

“I’m ready for you,” you breathe. “Please. I want you.”

“How could I say no?” he asks, leaning in and biting at the lobe of your ear.

He presses into you slowly, even though you don’t need it - not after the effects of the spores and your first climax still evident on your thighs. Only when he once again begins a slow, torturous pace do you realize that he’s doing it to tease you, and when you look up and find a certain amount of devious intent in his eyes, a shudder runs down your back.

He’s always seemed to enjoy watching you fall apart. How many times have you looked up in the middle of one of your late-night trysts to find his eyes on you, the darkened ruby gaze that seems as starved for you as his hunger for blood? 

How many times has he eased your arm away from your face when you felt the need to hide yourself, and how many times has he gently pulled your hand away from your mouth so he could hear the noises you made for him? 

There’s never really been a question about it; Astarion gets off on your pleasure, and the feeling is very, very mutual. Vulnerability aside, it does something beyond words to you to know how much he enjoys giving you pleasure. And, sure as the hells, you like to give it right back to him. So, keeping your gaze locked on his, you grind your hips down to meet him and let out a moan.

His jaw clenches and he swallows hard, his thrusts deepening as he props himself over you. You watch the lovely path of the action over the bob of his Adam’s apple, then flit your eyes back to his, letting out another noise.

“Gods,” he says, and his pace quickens. His hands wrap around your shoulders and he groans, panting as he rocks into you, his grip turning into something almost bruising. 

Part of you desperately wants him to keep going - but the other part of you wants to give him something, and now seems the proper time for it. So you tilt your head to give him access to your neck and murmur a few, soft words, and he slowly comes to a halt: breathing heavily, nails digging into your skin as he tries to regain some semblance of composure.

He kisses down your jaw, slowly drags his teeth along the skin, then sinks his fangs into your neck. You’re used to the sharp pain of his bite, but it’s different today. Intensified. It’s as if his mouth on your skin, the barely-there pain, is salving through that fire and every single limb of yours goes slack with…

What is it? Pleasure? Affection? Relief? It’s something in between, something warm but not scorching, something sweet but not overly-saccharine. He starts moving his hips again and you’re instantly on the edge, planting your hands on his lower back underneath his scars and resisting the urge to dig your nails into the skin.

He’s drunk from you enough times since you met to know where the limit lies, even on the cusp of his climax. He drains you until you’re sufficiently lightheaded, but not enough to harm you, then pulls away, planting a messy kiss on your mouth. 

Messy. It’s how you know he’s close. His actions are usually so graceful, his movements lithe and calculated. Only on the edge of orgasm do the pretenses fall away - his shaking thighs, soft moans into your lips, panting, blood smeared across his lips and almost certainly yours. 

There’s a blinding moment of pleasure as he thrusts harder, deeper, neither of you caring about the level of noise you’re making, and your nails dig into his back. He lets out a groan of approval, then - gods, you’re climaxing again, your whole body trembling with the waves of pleasure that crash over you. Overwhelming at first, then receding into the brief moment of clarity that lasts a minute or two this time. 

Then the spores start their work again.

The heat isn’t nearly as intense this time, but it’s still there. Part of you wonders if it’ll ever really fade. You lay still, gasping, as Astarion slowly pulls out of you. Then he brushes the damp hair out of your face and kisses you again. 

“Darling,” he starts breathlessly, flashing a mischievous grin at you, “if this is where we’ll end up, you should fall into mysterious spores more often.”

You laugh, sending a playful, light hit toward his shoulder. He catches your hand mid-action, pressing a kiss to your palm, holding your gaze the entire time. “You’re not the one who feels like they’re on fire, Astarion.”

He hums, kissing back down your neck, cleaning up the remnants of blood from his bite. “I wouldn’t say that,” he says, his voice gravelly with want. 

That gives you pause. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he says with some effort, propping himself above you, “whatever those spores were - they seem to have entered your bloodstream, my dear. It’s - an interesting sensation, I’ll admit.”

You’re searching his face for a tell that he’s not being serious, but instead you find wide, blown out pupils, flushed cheeks, and nothing beside his usual mischievousness. Any blood left in your face quickly exits. “Gods, I didn’t even think. I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be. I’m not.” He presses another soft kiss to your lips, and you see a small smear of your blood on his lips. When you lick your lips, you can taste the iron of it on your tongue.

Astarion is watching you. His gaze darkens, and he lets out another thin, broken groan. “Darling. At this rate, we’ll be going the whole night.”

And, honestly? With the rate the heat is returning - you don’t doubt it. 

Still, you gently ease him off of you to sit up, then make your way into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. 

There’s something addictive about Astarion - there always has been. From the moment he’d had you against the dirt, a dagger to your neck, he’s been your fix.  

In those first days when you’d had to hide your want for him - not even lust or sheer desire, but want; the ache to run your finger through silver curls, the warmth in your cheeks when he held your gaze just a moment too long, and the rare moments of vulnerability that came more and more as you’d gotten to know him - it had been torture. 

And then he’d propositioned you. And all at once, you’d found yourself in a clearing under silver moonlight, alone with him, long before you ever knew the extent of what had been done to him - and after all this time, the craving for him, the need to lay beside him in the long nights and find him there come morning, has only ever gotten so much stronger.

The heat is somewhat bearable now. Enough to take a moment to admire him, head tilted as he gazes up at you, pure need simmering in his eyes. Dark, glinting rubies. His fangs, barely visible under parted lips. Flushed cheeks. That will fade before long; the rosiness of drinking never lasts more than a few minutes, but you admire it all the same. 

“You’re beautiful.” The words are hushed. You hadn’t even meant to speak them, but your mind isn’t really yours at the moment, not wholly, not as firm as it should be. You feel half-drunk, half-needy. 

The corners of his lips flick into a smile, and he raises a brow. “Oh?” he asks, clearly stealing for more flattery. “Do you think so?”

You lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You know I do.” 

You gather a single, loose curl in your fingertips and gently roll it between your thumb and index finger, admiring the softness of it. You could use the same soaps, wash your hair with the same things he uses a thousand times over, and it’d never matter. It’d never be as soft as his.

“Anything in particular?” he asks. His voice is particularly airy; he’s battling between begging you for what he needs, and the compliments he likes so much.

You think back to when you’d first described him - that night beneath the stars, when he’d tossed the mirror aside and asked how you viewed him. Words hadn’t been enough then, and they still aren’t, but you’ll try.

“Your eyes,” you start, running your finger over his crow’s feet. “They change color in the light. Right now, they’re dark. Hungry. I can tell you want me, and I like that.”

His hands, which have strayed to the back of your thighs, tighten against your skin. “And? What else?”

The heat’s strength is back, clawing its way up your abdomen. “The way your hair curls around your ears,” you murmur.

He frowns, and you know you’ve gone too poetic. To distract him, you lean in and nip at the lobe of one, and any of his upset disintegrates. 

“Gods,” he murmurs, bringing his hands up to your waist. “Darling, I can’t wait much longer-”

You’ve trailed down to his jaw, alternating between kisses and sharp little nips just like the ones he likes to give you, and the words die in his mouth in favor of a sharp inhale. 

You won’t keep him waiting much longer. In fact, you have a plan. A plan that’d hatched from the moment you’d realized that the spores were in his system, too. Since you’d seen the hungry look in his eyes - every inch a predator circling around its prey.

Only, you’re not content to be the prey. You want to disarm him, and if any of the time you’ve spent together means anything, you’ve gotten very, very good at that.

His shirt is still on, so your hands are quick to remove it, tugging it away from cooling porcelain skin, silky under your fingers as you drag them down his sternum. He shudders, and you remember how it’d felt when he’d first touched you. If it’s anything like that, he’s probably dying to beg you for more.

Your lips soon follow the path your hands are sitting, taking your time with the softness of his abdomen before you pull his trousers away. He’s panting now, and a frenzied sort of desperation lies in his gaze when you look up at him.

And he’s hard again. Leaking.

You lightly trace your nails down his thighs, silently relishing in the way his breath hitches - the way his hips unconsciously buck toward you. 

“Gods,” he says again, and though it isn’t a direct request, with the broken way it falls off his tongue, this time it is every bit a plea. 

And you’re in a mood to please.

You take his cock in hand, swiping your thumb over the head, where precum is slowly leaking, and he lets out a long, breathy noise. You hum in response, taking his length between your lips, and the sound becomes strained, more needy. His hand gently makes its way into your hair, very lightly guiding you where he wants, but not forcefully.

You alternate between things: long, even movements of your mouth as you drag your tongue down the shaft, swirling your tongue around the head, then sucking him hard and slow. Eventually, simply following the guidance of his hand. His grip tightens in your hair - not painful, just encouraging - and his noises become more drawn out, less coherent.

When you pull away for a moment, using your hand to continue what your mouth had just been doing, you find him dangerously close. You press a kiss to the head and take him in again, increasing pace, accommodating him as you take him in as far as you possibly can, and he starts whimpering. 

“Please,” he says, and if that isn’t a rare word to hear from him. 

On another day, you might tease him, but you don’t want to. Not now, while he’s begging to have you. Instead, you take him as deep as you can again and suck harder. Astarion tugs at your hair and his thighs shudder and you know he’s close.

“Please,” he says again. “Gods, don’t stop.”

And you wouldn’t dream of it. What you can’t take into your mouth, you use your hand to stroke, and that’s it. He’s coming.

There’s something artful about it - the tremor that runs through him, the salty taste of him in your mouth, and those seeking, breathless sounds that come out of him as he spills onto your tongue. A long, shaky inhale as he pumps his hips, still chasing out his pleasure, then the trembling exhale as his mind starts to come back to him.

He doesn’t soften, and you don’t take your mouth off him. Not yet.

Usually, Astarion can be counted on for two orgasms, but if those spores are doing anything remotely like what they were doing to you, there’s certain to be much, much more than that.

“By the hells,” he murmurs airily, running a hand down your back. “You’re going to kill me, darling.”

You pull away for a moment, kissing at his abdomen, keeping his eyes locked on his as you do. “Does that mean you want me to stop?” you ask sweetly, trailing your nails along the skin of his thigh.

He swallows hard. “Gods, don’t,” he pleads.

And you don’t.

If you're not to bombarded with requests could you do 41# from that quote prompt list with daddy aizawa 👉👈🥺 if you already have too many than just ignore this 💕 (also sorry if this is sent multiple times tumblr is being stupid)

No worries love! ❤️ And I'm sorry this is so short ahhh

41. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

Warnings: Dub-con, bondage, edging, thigh riding

"Don't get too needy, kitten."

You whined, trying desperately to get out of the restraints he had you in. Your wrists were tied behind your back, the capture weapon wrapped around your arms and torso so you couldn't move your arms in any way. "Shouta please! I'm sorry! Please just untie me, I need it!"

He laughed softly as he watched you squirm around on the bed, rubbing your thighs together in a weak attempt to create any since of friction between your legs.

Your eyes never left the tired hero's form as he paced back and forth, shaking his head in mock dissapointment. "Finally had enough of being a little brat? What was it that you said to me? To stay away from you, that you don't want me ever touching you?"

You looked away from him, embarrassed as he threw your own words back at you. It was his fault, you tried to remind yourself. Anyone would break if they went through what he did to you. For hours he got you on the edge of an orgasm. Much to your dismay, he stopped right as you were at your peek.

Then he kept the process going until you unraveled, now a whiny, needy mess for him. It happened so many times it was starting to get painful.

Aizawa sat down and smiled as he picked you up, shifting you so you were straddling him. "Tell me what you want. And don't get shy with me."

"I want you!" You pouted as he stopped you from grinding into his erection, urging you to stay still while you talked to him. "I want you to fuck me, please! I need it!"

Your eyes widened as he chuckled, his hands squeezed your waist. "You think I'm going to reward you after that little stunt you pulled? Oh no, kitten. You want to cum the only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

You were going to protest, but decided against it at the dark look he gave you. You didn't want him to punish you again, some which meant you wouldn't be able to sit right for a couple of days.

Sniffling, you slowly did as he told you to, moaning softly as your hips jerked back as you began to receive the pleasure you were looking for. You arched your back as his large hand wrapped around your throat to keep you guided and making sure you kept your eyes on him. The message was clear.

"Good. Now," He pecked your lips as you began to grind yourself against his thigh some more. "Show me how sorry you are."

the older woman im dating takes me to the park and lets me run around for my daily enrichment

ahh hello lovely!! Your Sinful Soiree is gorgeous and looks so fun! So excited to read what you make for it.

And would love to send something in! I think about your kinktober Obi-Wan all the time, would love to please request something for him + this prompt: “shh. there’s people in the other room.”

Hope you have a great day! 💖💕

SWEETENED CRAVINGS

a/n: so i sat on this for a bit trying to find the inspo for obi-wan again. but i seriously didn't expect to get it back to this degree. i wrote this quickly and possibly not even paying attention to what i was putting on the paper because my mind was going a mile a minute. so this is probably extremely messy, but i hope you enjoy it darling. (also thank you for reigniting my love for this man. i am now swooning again).

summary: "he’d want the last thing he ever heard to be the sound of you tipping over the edge, falling into a bliss you both craved."

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, bad explanation of the force, cumplay, cumeating, obi-wan being a tease, possible exhibitionism (if you squint with a magnifying glass).

If you could scream, you would. You would allow every sound you pushed down, every whimper you bit back, free. In fact you wanted to hear it echo around you. Until he went deaf with it. Although knowing him, he’d want that too. He’d want the last thing he ever heard to be the sound of you tipping over the edge, falling into a bliss you both craved.

“F-Fuck. Obi—” Your head fell back against the wall behind you, nails digging into the rough fabric of his robes.

His eyes met yours, the brilliant blue still stealing your breath after so many months of seeing them like this. Darkened with a lust that reverberated through your entire body. A feeling unlike any other. When in fact it was you that showed it to him first. You who got to watch as he discovered what real pleasure felt like—what it did to his psyche.

“I know darling,” he whispered, his lips glistening in you.

One hand gripped your leg that was slung over his shoulder, the other focused on prolonging every little sensation that coursed through you. His fingers curled, brushing against a spot that he always found with astounding accuracy every time. And he watched—a small smile playing on his lips—as you nearly crumpled in on yourself. A sharp gasp leaving your mouth.

“I can’t…” Oh but you wanted to. You wanted to dig your hands into his hair and drag him back to your cunt that practically pulsed with each shift of his hand. You needed to fall off that cliff.

“Yes,” he said, his voice slipping into a tone you were rather familiar with. A demand that only came from a general in war. “You will.”

Nodding without another thought on the matter, you felt his tongue slip back through your folds. A sound clawed up the back of your throat as heat filled your stomach, spreading to the very tips of your fingers. But you fought against it. Did whatever you could to hold it back in your chest. Except then he sucked your clit into his mouth, a soft moan reverberating through your entire body.

A cry tore from your throat, your thighs shaking in his grip. You were right there. And you tried to drag it closer, allowing it to fill your entire being with that white hot burn you loved. You craved it. Desperately needed the sweetness that only he could give to spread along your tongue, but you felt it began to fade. Whatever licked hotly at the edge, sunk back into the darkness.

“No,” you gasped. “No, please. Please I want to—”

He rose to his feet, his hand covering your mouth with fingers that were still covered in your slick. “I know. I know what you want.”

A muffled whine echoed beneath his palm. You hoped that the sound would spur him on; show him how much you needed him to continue. Yet it only made him smile. A light in his eyes that told you he wasn’t done with you yet. Far from it.

Shuffling with one hand, he pulled at his robes with a speed that suggested he wasn’t as calm and collected as you expected him to be. In fact, seeing you like this—tasting you on his tongue—drove him to the brink of a madness he could no longer deny. A state of being he’d happily settle in permanently.

He gripped your leg, hooking it around his hip as the firm head of his cock swiped through your folds. Sending a shiver through your entire body. A broken moan escaping you. He nudged at your clit, his hot breath panting across your skin, and you nearly told him to get it over with. To finally give you what you both wanted. But the feeling of him sinking into you completely, until his hips met yours, sent your head flying back. A ragged cry slipping free.

“Darling,” he grunted, his forehead falling against your temple, eyes squeezed shut.

You couldn’t even get coherent words out, a muffled sound coming out louder than you intended. That only made him press his hand down harder, his lips coming up to your ear, the soft grunt he let out shaking your entire being.

“Shh. There’s people in the other room.” He kissed the spot beneath your ear that sent a shiver down your spine. “I need you to be quiet for me. Can you do that? Can you be good?”

You’d go out onto a fucking battlefield with no weapons at this point. As long as he continued with whatever he had planned. Obi-Wan controlled your entire being, bending you to his will, and you happily allowed it. What more could you want? When he held you like the most precious thing in the galaxy; when he looked at you like you were his north star. His eternal light in the battle against darkness.

Nodding, you felt him pull out slightly, only to press back in with a stunted thrust that had his head falling forward. Neither of you would last very long—not with the prospect of possibly getting caught hanging over your heads. Whichever of you thought fucking in the Jedi Temple was a good idea was certainly not thinking about the consequences.

“So tight,” he gasped, his other hand pulling your leg up higher, allowing him to sink in a bit deeper.

His body shook, teeth digging into his bottom lip, as he realized just how quickly this would be over. Obi-Wan—though a little more experienced than last time—still found himself unable to hold on at times. Not when your walls were so tight around his cock. Each flutter sending him a little higher, the self control he prided himself on, slipping further and further away.

“I’ve got you.”

Another short stunted thrust caused your hips to hit the wall softly, but it did exactly what you needed. His cock pressed against that blinding spot that had your eyes welling up with tears. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, eyes rolling back as the release he had built up suddenly came roaring back.

“So fucking perfect,” he muttered, his speed quickening to chase that feeling he felt build up in the base of his spine. “So good for me darling.”

A whimper was pressed into his palm, your hips canting up to match his thrusts with weak movements.

“I’ve got you.” He gasped, his forehead falling to yours. “I want to feel it. Please. I need it.”

He slammed into you, feeling your cunt clamp down around him as you clawed at his back. Ripping his hand away, his lips pressed against yours, swallowing every sound you made and giving you his in return. He grunted with each thrust, your slick coating the coarse hair at the base of his cock and giving him a chance to perfectly grind against your clit.

“I-” You pulled away, a string of spit connecting your lips together. “I’m—oh—”

 “Yes,” he panted, his tongue sliding against yours, hand moving down to grip your hip. “Let me feel you.”

One final grind of his hips against yours sent the wave of bliss you’d been grasping for through you. A sob of his name was swallowed by his fervent kiss, your spine arching until you were pressed fully into him. Something burst forward, enveloping him whole, and it was only when he shuddered finally reaching his own peak, did you realize it was you.

A bright light of a feeling you could only define as purely Obi-Wan shoved into your body, sending you higher than before. He cried into your mouth, his hand slapping against the wall beside your head as he shook, sinking into the heat of the Force that you drowned him in.

“Fuck,” you sighed when you finally began to come down, your head spinning from the high that still lingered in your body. Sparking up and down your spine.

He chuckled, remaining as close to you as possible, even as his cock softened inside you. “I believe we got a bit carried away.”

You smiled, cupping the back of his neck. “So much for being quiet.”

“I can come up with an explanation for the noise.”

You scoffed. “And what pray tell is this explanation? I apologize for the noise but I couldn’t stop myself from eating out my lover in an empty room.”

His cheeks stained red until it crept up to his ears. “Something of the sort.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’d much rather prefer the term intelligent.”

You laughed, feeling his lips press against your neck, his own smile curving against your skin. “Whatever you say General Kenobi.”

A soft growl echoed in his chest at the sound of you using his title, his teeth digging into your throat. You sighed softly at the feeling of his cock twitching in curiosity, the knowledge that you wouldn’t be leaving this room any time soon now dawning on you.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his hips pushing forward, eliciting a high keening moan from your throat.

“G-General—” His thumb spread the mixture of your cum along your swollen clit, pressing down until your hips jerked forward—painful sparks shooting up your body.

“Good girl.” A wide smile curved on his mouth, the thumb that had been against your clit, now running along your bottom lip, opening you up. “Now.” He moaned at the feel of your tongue against his finger. “Where was I?”

Private Lessons Part 3: Gratitude

Kinks: Bondage, oral sex, kitty pet name, DDLG (NOT ageplay), D/s dynamic

Okay, guys. This was a lot of work and I am super proud of it. Holy cow. I about cried when I finished. I’m so invested in this story that I commissioned the wonderful Cosmicacorasa to make the cover. Her drawing, my coloring, and another friend’s handwriting because mine is truly heinous.

I’ll be honest, I am now fully in love with this story since the interest made me want to really put my heart in it. I can’t promise this officially but I want to release a new chapter every two weeks, with tiny “extras” in between. 

Please consider donating to Ko-Fi so I can continue to pay Cosmicamorosa for her awesome work and maybe get myself some Starbucks T^T

https://ko-fi.com/lemonlordleah

To look at Cosmic’s stuff or commission her, check out:

https://twitter.com/cosmicamorosa?s=09

@katsukisprincess​ @secondhand-trash​ @shinsouzone​ @dabis-azure-songbird​

@voidsorceress​

Private Lessons Part 3: Gratitude 

“Wouldn’t it be nice if you repaid my generosity?” 

Aizawa’s fingers gingerly caressed your cheek, leaving little jolts of electricity zipping down your sides. The affectionate gesture melted you, eyelids fluttering as the pleasant tingles sent goosebumps flashing across your skin. You turned and kissed his palm, nudging against it before staring up at him through your lashes.

Keep reading

Long black hair ? Anime men ? Kinda cold or crazy ? Boom I simp.

GN tiefling TAV who basically tames Raphael. Like TAV treats him like a dog and Raphael just gives in. I just like the idea of Raphael the powerful devil being 'domesticated' by his lover🤭NSFW perhaps?

Obedience (Raphael x GN Tiefling Reader)

Author's Note: As soon as I got this ask, I had an image in my mind and I hope it lives up to expectations. Thanks for the request, darling. Thanks for reading, friends! *Also smut, degradation, and wicked fun.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.

"Tav!"

Your foot ceased its rapping on the floor.

"Yes? Sorry."

"What's got you so worked up, soldier?"

Karlach's concern made you sigh and drag your hands down your face. How could you ever explain what was running through your mind?

"I've just been thinking about Raphael's deal."

Her eyes widened as she slapped her hands on her knees.

"You aren't actually thinking of taking it?"

"Ha! Hells no. But I'm tired of him. I think he's reached the end of his usefulness when it comes down to it."

"Well, we still need the hammer."

"Yes, but we didn't come all this way and go through everything we did just to not be able to steal a hammer from some puny cambion, did we?" Your sharp teeth flashed wolfishly at her. "I'll be back. I have an idea."

"Do you need backup? Hello?!"

Her voice followed you out of the room. Your daggers were still at your side in their sheaths, thank goodness. Your hands were itching for a fight, but you stayed your impulses. For now.

~~~

You slunk through Sharess' Caress, shooting a wink at the drow twins as you passed them on the staircase. Following the stairs up and out to the upper level was easy, if you didn't count all the bodies molded together along the sides and in dark corners. Thankfully you managed to slip by them and burst out through the doors into the crisp air of the evening. Turning right, you took long strides until you were right outside the Devil's Den. With a raised fist, you pounded on the door. Steps hastily came to the door, incoherent raging heard as he moved closer.

"What in the hells is the matter with- Oh, you've returned to me."

Raphael stood in the doorway, lips curled up as his face twisted into a smug smirk. Hells, I'd love to smack that expression off his face. He waited as you glared at him, curiosity piquing the longer you stood without saying a word.

"Well, are you coming in or have you just shown up to stare at me? Not that I would blame you, I am positively delightful to look at."

His pompous demeanor was the last straw. You whipped out a dagger and before he could blink, pressed it on his neck, forcing his chin back. You stepped forward, causing him to step back into the room. With a whack of your boot, you slammed the door shut and used your other hand to lock it. His eyes narrowed at you, rage simmering in their depths.

"Fine. I'll play along. What are you hoping to accomplish with this absurd stunt?"

You kept your mouth shut and walked him back until he was pressed against the wall. Your free hand started at his waist and slid up his chest and around the back of his neck. A wicked delight coursed through your body as you watched him becoming more and more unsettled the longer you kept silent.

Finally, you curled your fingers around the side of his neck and dug your nails in just enough to hurt. You brought your face close to his, cheek pressing firmly to his own. you suppressed a shudder and squeezed his neck just a mere bit more. Your tail flicked in agitation.

"I’m tired of this, Raphael. I’m tired of you following us around, tired of your meddling. What is it that you really want?"

"I didn't think you a blabbering fool," he spat. "I've told you that I will give you the hammer in exchange for the Crown of Karsus."

"Mm. I don’t think so. Do you want to know what I think? I think you want someone to play with. And I think you’ve gotten too used to playing with people and now it’s time for someone to have their turn at it."

His face contorted into a scowl.

"You insolent little beast," he snarled.

"Ha! You are absolutely right. I have no respect for you. You who sat in your palace above while my kin suffered. You who, with a wave of your hand and sign of a pen, control lives and distort them to a shadow of what they were. I won’t stand for it. You have no right," you hissed.

His hand jerked up and you slapped it away. A growl reverberated between you, both of you with your teeth bared.

"By my birth, I have every right."

"And there lies the problem," you mused. Daddy’s little boy who's upset about not getting his way. A pathetic man who knows nothing of sacrifice. Who’s never had to work for anything. Who lives on as mortals fight and die for what they believe in. You are a waste of my time, a waste of life."

"Then why did you even bother coming here?"

"Because, Raphael. I told you I wanted to play," your lips split into a wicked grin.

“You-“

You pressed even closer, lips brushing over the lobe of his ear.

“Hush now, Raphael. I meant what I said at the beginning of our journey. Speak another word and I will cut out your tongue.”

He glared at you, but remained silent.

"I want you to leave my friends and I alone. No more deals. No more tricks. You're finished. It's time for you to go back and sit among the souls you've tormented for so long."

He sneered, his lip curling up in distaste. You pressed the knife harder, a vicious gleam in your eyes as you watched a single drop of blood slide down and stain his collar. You'd come this far, why not take the risk and mess with him further? As the next drop slid down, your tongue darted out and licked a line up his neck. He looked mildly horrified as your tongue darted out to lick your lips.

"Hm. Seems you were lying to Astarion when you said your blood burned hotter than wyvern whiskey."

His hands balled into fists at his side.

"Easy now, wouldn't want you to get all... emotional."

He snapped his fingers and you swayed, clutching onto him as you were transported to the House of Hope. You tamped down your rage and nausea, holding your knife up in a fighting stance, realizing that as you'd arrived, he'd moved you further away from him.

"Out!" he yelled.

The tortured souls fled the dining room, doors shutting on their way out, leaving just the two of you facing off on opposite sides of the table.

"Put the godsdamned knife down, dear. Wouldn't want you to get hurt." He pressed his fingers to his temples and shook his head. "You're becoming more trouble than you're worth, little mouse."

You circled around the table, a fire blazing in your eyes and pointed your knife at the nearest chair.

"Sit."

He analyzed you, trying to decide his course of action.

"Fine, I'll play your little game."

He sat down with ease, but his body betrayed him. He was tensed and ready to spring if you misstepped. You sheathed your knife and held up your hands in a gesture of peace, albeit a temporary one. You spun the chair around next to his and brought it closer, dragging it across the floor. He gritted his teeth and tightened his fists on the armrests of his chair.

"Why do you insist on antagonizing the cat, little mouse?"

You grinned, leaned in close, and put your hands on his knees, squeezing and running your fingers up his thighs. He froze, eyes glued to where your touch was tracing over the smooth material of his trousers.

"You keep calling yourself a cat," you murmured. You rose slightly and moved closer, surprising even yourself as you nipped at his neck, nudging his head to the side with your long horns. Your tail snaked around his leg, squeezing tightly. "But all I see," you continued, "is a mangy cur who's all bark and no bite."

"Mangy?!" he cried, "I am not-"

You cut him off and emphasized your last word by biting down on his neck and sucking, being sure to leave a mark. Your hands danced over his legs, upward to the apex of his thighs where you grazed the tips of your fingers over where his cock lay. He jolted in the chair and you clamped both hands on his wrists. You leaned forward, forcing him back and reclaiming control of the situation.

"You sat here in your palace while my people were dragged to Avernus and suffered. And you know what? I don't think you deserve any of it," your lips drew back from your teeth as you hissed at him. "And you know what else? I think you know it. You know I'm right and that you're just a pathetic little man, trying to get his fingers into something that he is ill equipped to deal with."

Raphael's jaw dropped at your audacious remarks and you couldn't help the devilish smirk that spread across your face.

"What is it, darling? Cat got your tongue?"

You laughed and pushed away from him, pressing on his wrists as you did so. He rubbed them, easing away the ache from your rough movements, and growled lowly at you. You got on your knees and grabbed his thighs, spreading them apart.

"Unbutton your pants, Raphael."

"I beg your pardon?"

He stared down at you in disbelief as you waited expectantly. You laughed and his brows drew together in anger, the tips of his ears turning red.

"I already knew your personality was terrible, but I didn't realize it affected your hearing."

His jaw dropped as he blinked slowly at you, unsure what to make of your behavior. After a beat more of silence, his hands slowly undid the buttons and folded the flaps to the side, waiting on your next words with bated breath. You squeezed his thighs again, your hands roving over his legs as you made him wait.

"Take your cock out, Raphael."

"Has the tadpole already taken over? You've completely lost your mind," he snapped.

"Maybe so," you sighed dramatically. "I suppose you don't want me to continue, then. Alright, take me back."

He grabbed you as you began to stand. He stared down as his hand as if it had acted without his permission and groaned in frustration.

"Fine. I'll play along a bit longer," he grumbled.

You lowered once more and he paused before reaching into his trousers and taking his already hardened cock out. He pursed his lips and watched your expression for some kind of reaction. You remained blank-faced as you reached out to wrap your hand around him. He hissed through his teeth at the contact and the way you squeezed the base and twisted your hand as you went toward the head. His knees shook slightly and he slapped his hands down on his legs to keep them still. You let go of him for a moment and grabbed the sides of his trousers.

"Up."

He lifted his hips and you smirked to yourself as you tugged them down to his ankles. This was the most exposed he'd been around anyone aside from Haarlep in a very long time and he fidgeted, unsure if he would come to regret it. Your hands moved back to touch him and he grunted as you grabbed his balls. You weren't rough by any means, but you refused to let go as you squeezed.

"I didn't realize the banter was what got you going, Raphael."

Your canines poked out as you grinned and rolled them in your hand. His legs kicked slightly and you let go, surprised when a whimper slipped out of his mouth. He turned his head slightly and covered his mouth with his hand as he avoided your gaze. The blush had spread from his ears to his cheeks and now even down his neck.

"Go ahead, mongrel."

"What did you call me?"

Your hands tightened around his cock and balls as you danced along the line of pain and pleasure.

"Bark."

He laughed and leaned back in the seat.

"You can't be serious," he wheezed as you squeezed tighter.

"Deadly so, I'm afraid. And you're in quite a predicament here, so I suggest you do what I say if you'd like to keep all appendages attached."

Hatred blazed in his eyes as embarrassment covered his face. He inhaled sharply and shut his eyes for a moment before looking down at you. There was murderous intent in his gaze as he uttered, "Woof."

You laughed at him, your hands releasing him as a fit of giggles spilled from you. He decided then and there to ignore adventurers and never attempt to make deals with them ever ever again. He started to rise, but you clamped down on his knees again.

"I didn't say you could go."

"Why won't you just-"

He choked off his words as you took him in your mouth. He gripped the edges of the chair, squirming as your tongue licked up the underside. You rolled his balls in your hand, gently massaging them. His hips bucked against your mouth as you sucked hard and he gasped, beginning to reach for your horns to gain some control. At the movement of his hands, your tail rose and lashed across his palms.

"Don't. Touch. Me," you hissed as you pulled your attentions away from his swollen tip.

His eyes were wide, a spark of dread flashing quickly by. He raised his hands in surrender and put them back on the chair arms.

"Good boy," you murmured against his cock.

The words and the vibrations brushed deep inside him against his desperate desires for approval and for the way your warm mouth was pleasing his aching length. You continued on, flicking your tongue against his tip and pumping your hand up and down as he rocked lightly against your mouth. His breaths were hot and heavy as your motions sped up. He bucked wildly, trying to remain still and stay your wrath. His whines were pitiful, so fucking desperate for your touch.

His knuckles turned white from where he gripped the chair so hard to prevent himself from grabbing you. His release was near and it was coming hard. With a final twist of your wrist under the flared head, he came, spurting into your mouth. He groaned as he slumped against the back of the chair, his mind spinning wildly. His chest heaved as he stared down at you, hair slightly mussed and cheeks heating.

You stared at each other, the heightened senses of the moment draining away and leaving behind a surprise and deep within him a... longing for you? He wanted your hands on him again. Your warm mouth wrapped around him. He wanted to be your good boy. You both startled when you heard clapping and Raphael's simmering rage returned as he saw Haarlep coming out from behind a pillar, smiling with wicked delight.

"Amazing! Spectacular! You know, little tiefling, I might be able to learn a thing or two from you."

Your eyes widened as you realized he was an exact copy of Raphael's more devilish form. You looked back and forth between the two. One in strappy lingerie and the other switching between shock, anger and embarrassment as his cock softened and twitched in his lap.

You waved your hand in their direction and mumbled, "You know what? I don't want to know."

You reached for a napkin to wipe your mouth and left it on the table before turning back to the copy.

"How do I get out of here?"

Haarlep grinned and waved a hand to direct across the room.

"Just through those doors, darling! Nubaldin will be more than willing to show you the portal home, I'm sure. And do come back. It gets so boring here with just Raphael for company. Maybe we could-"

You held up a hand firmly.

"Nope. Thanks for your help, though."

As you turned to walk away, you saw him leaning over the back of the chair, whispering to Raphael.

"Get away from me!" Raphael spat as he swatted at Haarlep.

Laughter followed you all the way through the doors and to the portal.

~~~

Your legs ached from walking all over the city and damn why were his floors so hard? You decided to ask Gale about the knee stretches he does when you walked through the doors of your rooms at the Elfsong and halted abruptly. Everyone had turned to look at you, analyzing your appearance.

"There you are! We've been worried about you."

Karlach jumped up and ran over to throw an arm around you and check you over.

"Did everything go okay? What did you- wait." She leaned in and sniffed lightly, then grabbed your cheeks and pressed her face into your hair for a longer inhale. "Why do you smell like Avernus?"

Your cheeks heated as you knocked her hands away from you. You cleared your throat and smoothed down your hair, avoiding everyone's gaze.

"All you need to know is that Raphael shouldn't be bothering us anymore and no, I will not be answering any questions. Good night."

~~~

As you lay awake in your bed that night, you replayed the memory of the day, unable to comprehend that you had enjoyed having a taste of the devil.

this might not be your cup of tea, if it isn’t please ignore it :) but could you do a fic like the one you wrote about abi x john but the reader is the camp’s working lady. and arthur, john (in a world where he’s not with abigail), kieran, micah, etc. all pass her around with dutch also watching and kinda making comments while smoking a cigar? then he joins somehow idk. i just want some humiliation and exhibitionism lol. if it’s not something you’re comfortable with please ignore this!! and i’m sorry lol

Welp, here it is anon, The Smuttiest Fic to End All Smutty Fics! This took me a really long time to write, it’s 15 pages and pretty much all the VDL Gang guys get a look in. I did have to make some cuts just so it wasn’t obscenely long, so sorry to any fans of Hosea, Trelawny, Strauss, Swanson and Pearson.

This does involve basically a gang bang (though all the boys are very polite and wait for their turn), but I fully appreciate as anon said this might no be everyone’s cup of tea! If you’d just like to read your favourite feller, I have separated them out into their individually named sections. However, some might still have interjections from Dutch and other members in the gang!

I think I’m basically going to say this is my Christmas present to you all. So happy holidays and happy gang gang banging with the VDL lads!

Warning: Degrading language, humiliation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, choking, hint at breeding kink, explicit sexual content - including penetrative sex, group sex, oral sex, anal sex.

“Well, gentlemen. Looks like it’s that time again already.” Dutch smiled as the men gathered around, and you heard several chuckles of amusement, along with mutters of approval. Dutch had you naked, sitting on his knee, facing the half-shadowed forms of the other Van Der Linde men. You could just make out Arthur, Micah and John at the front, but the others were following shortly behind them.

Dutch’s hands firmly squeezed your breasts, before trailing down your stomach and forcing your legs apart, so everyone gathered could get a good look at you. He popped his thumb in his mouth, then brought his finger back down to your slit and began to circle your clit. You let out a small moan and involuntarily thrust your hips against his right hand, though the firm grip of his left on your leg meant you had to keep your legs open. The coldness of his rings pressed down against your thigh.

“I have asked our darling Miss Y/L/N, and she has very kindly agreed to this once more, though I think she’s just as keen.”

You’re were growing wetter by the minute and could feel Dutch’s hard cock pressed into your ass. You wiggled your hips against it, but he shifted your weight and then slipped a finger inside you so you forgot all about your attempt.

There’s a shuffling around as the men draw lots from a hat. For those who got to go first there followed a satisfied, pleased hum. Those going last kicked up more of a fuss.

“Oh, come on!” Sean yelled out, his tone frustrated and disappointed.

“Wha’ number you get?” Arthur asked.

“Eight! Why, what’d you get, English?”

Arthur chuckled heartily on hearing it. “One.”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“That’s enough, Sean,” Dutch commanded, as your head lolled back against his broad shoulder and his fingers ensure you’re ready to take any man present here, no matter how big their cock. You watched as the men sat or stood around in a circle. In the centre there was a table and a chair, around the edge a few tents and a bedroll or two, should a man prefer a little more privacy. Though there’s very little you can keep private during this event.

“Are you ready, Miss?” Dutch asked you softly.

You nod and he slowly removes his fingers from your pussy, you feel the muscles try to tighten around him as he withdrew from you and you let you a little sobbing moan of complaint.

“There, there, my dear. We shan’t keep you waiting for long. Arthur, my boy, are you ready?”

Arthur nodded. You could see the thick outline of his cock pressed tightly against his jeans and immediately wanted to help him.

“Alright then.” Dutch soothingly helps you off his lap and Arthur gently picked you up into his arms. Your intimate knowledge of the men goes without saying, and Arthur had always been a romantic, even if he didn’t like to admit it.

He gently brushed his nose against your ear, inhaling your scent and softly murmured, “Glad I get to have you first.”

Arthur

You weren’t going to lie, you were glad that Arthur was the first in line. He was usually far softer and more patient than some of the other men, and would always make sure you were ready to take him.

He carried you over to the tent, where Charles was sitting nearby, and then lay you down gently on the bedroll. Arthur kissed your neck, his lips trailing down to your breasts, your nipples hardening against the roughness of his stubble. One of his hands found yours and entwined your fingers with his.

He continued to kiss you down your stomach, where he chuckled at the slight tension in your belly as nipped at your skin, until he eventually reached your mound and looked up at you, as though waiting for your permission. You nodded and his warm hands pushed open your legs further, and he dove in immediately sucking on your clit. You moaned at the contact and arched your back, your hands scrabbling in his hair and your feet pressed against his shoulders.

He continued sucking and licking, his tongue sliding down to your entrance and then teasingly run back to your clit, till you could feel your thighs shaking and an ache building between your legs.

“Arthur, I need-!”

“I know, darlin’, I know,” he murmured soothingly and then slipped his forefinger inside you, and you gasped at the sensation. Your hips rolled involuntarily and you more felt than heard Arthur’s chuckle of approval. His thumb grazed your clit and you closed your eyes, desperately chasing the sweet relief of your orgasm. You would probably come many times tonight, but Arthur was always so considerate and almost loving towards you, that you adored coming apart in his arms.

“C’mon, son. There’s others who are still waiting,” Dutch’s voice came out of the gloom and was a key reminder that you weren’t alone in Arthur’s tent.

“Alrigh’, alrigh’,” Arthur muttered and pulled his fingers out from your slit. The cold evening air made you shiver when he sat up on his haunches, but as soon as he had undone his pants and lain back down on top of you, the warmth that emanated from Arthur made you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

You felt his cock twitch as he pressed it against you and he rubbed it against your clit, making you whine and try to reposition your hips so he would slip inside you.

“Easy now, girl,” he crooned, then he cupped your face and forced you to look up into his eyes. “You know how I like you looking at me.” You nodded and then he slowly began to push his cock inside you. You let out a moan and dropped your head back, as your slick enabled him to sink deeply inside you.

His arms encased you, as he began to slowly thrust until you could feel every inch of him. A strong hand cupped the back of your head, bringing your gaze to his and you felt like you could drown in his ocean-coloured eyes. His other hand wrapped around the back of your leg, raising it around his hips and you whimpered at the intensity of it all.

He ran his nose over your cheek and jaw. “So goddamn beautiful,” he whispered against your cheek. You brought his hands to your breasts and Arthur complied, giving them a gentle squeeze and then teasing your nipples. He raised his hips slightly and one hand snaked down to your clit.

“Goin’ to make sure you feel good too,” he said.

“I already do,” you panted back, his clever fingers finding some slick and then lightly playing with your clit, until you were moaning in his arms.

You could feel the first delicious waves creeping up on you, the wonderful sound of Arthur’s thighs slapping into yours driving you wild and you bucked your hips up harder as his movements grew rougher and faster. He kissed your neck and then bit down hard, and you smiled at that little possessive streak of Arthur came out knowing he was determined to leave his mark on you. You felt your toes curl as the delicious whirl of pleasure shot through you and you found yourself whining and shaking in Arthur’s arms.

He let out a muffled groan, and you always got the sense he would love nothing more than to cum inside you, but, as always, he pulled out and stroked himself to completion. Warm streaks of white cum painted your belly and thighs. He gently cupped your sex and soothingly rubbed down your thighs.

“Good girl,” he said. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiping you clean and then tucked himself away, before scooping you up in his arms again. He did not have to walk far though, as Charles extended his own arms towards you and Arthur tenderly placed you in them, your head lolling against Charles’ firm shoulder.

Charles

Charles reached a hand down to your wet pussy and circled your clit, letting you shudder and whine at the sensitivity, before he reached down to push two fingers into your aching slit. He stretched you out and you saw Dutch’s look of approval as you were opened up for the other men to look at you. You gazed up at Charles, feeling dreamy and warm in his arms, and he softly kissed you.

Charles’ cock was long and thick, so his preferred method was having you turn away from him and slowly fuck him at your own pace. He would still press his fingers on your clit and make you gasp, as the sensitive bud of nerves sent spirals of pleasure running through your body.

He positioned you gently and let you sink down onto his length, allowing you to take you time as his length stretched you out. You moaned and rolled your hips to grow used to him.

‘That’s always a pretty sight, seeing Charles’ cock split you, darling,’ Dutch said, his dark eyes watching you with an excited gleam in them.

Charles leaned back comfortably, his fingers digging slightly into your hips. He didn’t thrust up inside you as you began to fuck him, he knew all too well that doing so would mean he hit your cervix, and it would be painful for you if you weren’t ready.

‘How she feel, Charles?’ Dutch asked.

The man behind you let out a soft, grumbly groan, he gripped your waist and brought you down on his hardness more firmly. You let out a whine as the pleasure built rapidly, getting to control how you fucked him and the speed meant your orgasm was building up quickly and easily.

‘She feels good.’ Charles gave a single thrust up inside you, unable to resist. ‘Really good, warm and wet.’

‘Bet she does. I pity whoever has to go last, she’ll be a sloppy mess by the end. That pretty little cunt will be ruined.’

Several laughs from the other men follow Dutch’s comment. You let out a moan as Dutch’s filthy words sent a shiver through you. It should have disgusted you, but being used like this, being made to feel utterly debauched and all these men having a claim over you, made you feel so good.

Charles’ fingers circle your clit more furiously, the lube on his fingers makes it feel so good and you could feel yourself heading towards the peak of your pleasure rapidly. You grip Charles’ wrist tightly, your thighs slapping against his and pushing him onwards.

‘C’mon Charles, or you’re going to be there forever,’ Sean whined. He was palming himself through his pants and you bite your lip seeing his desperation. Sean makes a noise of both complaint and pleasure when you do.

You’re so close to coming undone, but Dutch approached you both. ‘He has a point, son. Can’t keep everyone waiting.’

You see the thick outline of Dutch’s cock pressed against his pants and you look up at him with deep longing in your eyes. Dutch chuckled and touched your lower lip with his thumb, your tongue slipped out and you sucked hard on it. He pulled his hand back, the finger slipping out with a loud pop.

‘You can put that mouth to better use later, my dear.’

Charles grabbed hold of your hair, forcing you back and begins to pound into you. His cock reached deeper inside you and a moan slipped from your lips, as you lay your head back on his shoulder. Little sparks of pleasure began to build through you and you could feel your pussy fluttering around him. You closed your eyes, your thighs being gripped by Charles, and felt your toes curl as a wave of bliss washed over you. You’re left gasping as a sharp jolt of pleasure coursed through you and then kept going as Charles thrust into you harder and faster, until he let out a muffled groan into your hair. He buried himself to the hilt in you and you knew he had come inside you.

Bill

The orgasm had left you feeling boneless and weak, you rest your head against Charles’ chest, longing for nothing more than to curl up into him and fall asleep. But Bill was having none of that. He yanked you upright, making you whimper as you were roughly pulled off Charles’ cock, and then picked you up and dropped you on the table like you were a sack of potatoes.

“Come on now, Bill.” Dutch smiled as he watched you both. “Be gentle with her.”

You heard Bill spit into his palm and watched him coat his cock with it, then without much warning thrust inside of you. You guessed you should be grateful that you were already sopping wet from your time with Arthur and Charles, but Bill barely gave you time to think as he began to roughly and furiously fuck you.

You gripped onto the edges of the table, as his sloppy thrusts pushed you backwards and when you heard Charles give a tetchy sigh, you looked over to him. His dark brown eyes stared back into your own and you felt at least a little pleasure begin to build, when you remembered the wonderful orgasm you had shared with him. But a thick, heavy hand grabbed hold of your jaw and forced your head back to look at Bill. His face was red and flushed, his brow furrowed and he was biting his lip hard.

“Goddammit, don’t look at him, when I’m fucking you.”

You heard a soft huff of laughter behind you. “He’s quite right, my dear,” Dutch said. “You know the rules. Once you’re done fucking one man, you must only have eyes for whoever’s fucking you next.”

You suddenly felt Bill pull out of you and were surprised that he was apparently already done. But you had been mistaken when the man coated his fingers in your slick, and then began to tease your arsehole. You keened and tried to pull away, but Bill determinedly pulled you back and worked his forefinger into your tight hole. It felt intrusive and more intense, but was already starting to feel good.

He dragged your legs closer to the table’s edge and then began to push into your arsehole with his cock. The burning stretch was unbelievable, even with his preparation beforehand and Charles’ cum coating your thighs and butt. You scrabbled against Bill, trying to gain some leverage but he caught hold of your wrists and pinned you down to the table. Finally, he bottomed out inside of you and you let out a deep groan.

“What a pretty noise that was,” Dutch remarked.

As though pleased by the approval Dutch had given, Bill began to fuck you. You were glad he was going slowly, but his cock pushed into you further every time. You were still pinned to the table, so could do nothing but lie there and take it.

“Wrap your legs around me, girl!” Bill demanded.

You obediently raised your legs around his hips, though the movement made you feel every stroke all the more and you whimpered as he began to move faster.

“That’s it, that’s it, just like that. Just like the goddamn whore you are!” Bill muttered furiously. Though you had been fucked in your arsehole before, it certainly felt different, more intense and you felt vulnerable. Utterly used and spent. But Bill gave your clit or sensitive nipples no attention, so by the time he let out a strangled groan and poured himself into your ass, you were feeling a little frustrated and needy.

As he withdrew, and your legs helplessly flopped over the edge of the table, you felt his cum spill from your ass. But you closed your eyes enjoying the brief respite.

Lenny

“Come on, who’s next?” Dutch demanded, as the pause went on. Eventually you heard footsteps approaching you and you looked up to see Lenny.

“Can I not just have her in my tent?” Lenny asked, you saw him fishing around in his pocket for something.

“You know the rules, part of the enjoyment comes from seeing everyone make use of her.”

Lenny sighed softly, but he had reached you and was gently stroking the damp curls between your legs, you felt his thumb brush lightly against your clit, making you whimper and squeeze your thighs together.

He pushed your legs open and you soon realised he had been looking for a handkerchief. He gently cleaned up the cum Bill and Charles had left behind, before he went to his knees and you pressed your lips together. Lenny watched you intensely, before pressing the flat of his tongue to your clit and you let out a hopeless moan. His warm hands crawled up your waist to your breasts, gently teasing your nipples with his fingers. For all he had been rather naïve to the ways of women at first, you had to give it to him, he was a fast learner!

You found yourself wondering if he was deliberately making up for Bill’s lack of attention, as your nipples stood hard against his fingers and his tongue dipped inside your wet pussy. You weren’t sure if you truly had much left within you to give, even though the heighten sensitivity meant you were soon trying to escape the relentlessness of Lenny’s tongue and pushing away his hands.

“Goddammit, boss, he’s taking forever! Just fuck her, boy!” Micah’s callous voice rang out.

Dutch chuckled at Micah’s impatience. “Come on, Lenny. She’ll come enough times without you doing that.”

Lenny lifted his head and you watched him loosen his cock from the confines of his pants, before he sunk into your aching cunt. “Fuck,” he murmured softly against your neck, before he trailed kisses down your chest and began to lick your nipples.

You whined and wrapped your legs around him, Lenny placed his arms by your head, so you were slightly obscured from view as his length slid over you wet clit.

“You feel so good,” he whispered gently. “Some time this week I’m going to have you in my tent, away from everyone else. Don’t want anyone else to watch.”

For all his promised plans though, his cock was hard, he’d still been turned on by seeing the others fuck you. But you knew Lenny enjoyed being gentle and warm with you. You cupped his face, feeling the light brush of hair on his upper lip and the man let out a strangled whine as you did.

“Take me, Lenny.”

He sighed against your hair and began to press kisses against your neck again, then his cock slipped inside you and he let out a soft moan of pleasure. You ran your hands down his waist and over his butt, pushing him deeper inside you. “You’re so perfect, so good. Hold me.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, as he began to pick up the pace and slid his cock in and out of your soaking wet slit. “Lenny, please I need you.”

He kissed your lips, his tongue slipping between them and moaning into your mouth. You could feel his cock sliding deeply inside of you and his groin rubbing against your clit, you let out a whimper.

“Fuck…” he murmured. “You’re too wet, I’m not going to last long.”

You ran your hands over his back soothingly and pressed kisses against the warm, dark skin of his neck. “You don’t have to last, just let me hold you, you’re such a good man, Lenny.”

You were surprised when Lenny let out a choking groan and buried his face into your shoulder. You felt his buttocks clench tightly and then he stilled while still inside you.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I was out on a job last night and hearing what you said-”

You tenderly cut him off with a kiss, then stroked his cheek. “It was still good, Lenny.”

John

Lenny awkwardly got up, giving your slit a quick wipe with his thumb, but otherwise leaving you leaking all over the table. As you raised your head, John nodded and beckoned you to come over to him. You got to your feet, though staggered a little, but eventually managed to make you way to him. John watched the sway of your hips intensely and you could see his erection was pressed against his pants.

He unbuttoned his pants and then lay back, allowing you to straddle him and shift your hips till his cock brushed against your entrance. John was looking at you, his brown eyes wide and drinking in you in, but otherwise he was silent.

He always liked you taking control with him and riding him. Though after the previous experiences you’d had with Arthur, Charles, Bill and Lenny you wished for once he would just pound into you. Your legs felt like jelly and doubtless this would be a sloppy ride. Then again, when John was like this, flushed, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and biting his lip hard, he rarely lasted long.

You sunk down onto him and John let out a loud groan as you did. You rolled your hips and John’s hand eagerly found your waist and then your breasts. You trailed your hands up John’s chest, grazing your nails over his nipples in the way he liked and heard that pretty raspy whine he would always give.

He pushed his hips up to meet yours and you sat more heavily on his thighs, so his movement would be restricted. You grabbed hold of his hands and pinned them above his head. John choked out a moan as you began to fuck him faster. He struggled under your grip and you allowed him to lift himself up a little, so his mouth could eagerly find your nipple and suck on it fiercely. You closed your eyes and moaned as he wrapped his tongue around the taut bud.

“Ahh, Marston, always one to be bossed around by his woman,” Dutch chuckled, and you heard a few mutters of agreement from the other men and short bursts of laughter.

John pulled his mouth off your breast and you thought that his usually argumentative nature would mean he would bite back at Dutch. But instead, he found your other breast and began to lavish the same attention to your other nipple.

“Though, I do agree with him. Not enough of you have been paying attention to our darling girl’s breasts this evening, and when they’re as pretty as that how can you not?”

You felt a hand, heavy with rings, wrap around your other breast, fingers teasing the nipple until you gave a throaty moan and dropped your head back. John’s long cock was still pounding into you, but he managed to get away his hand from your grip and pushed away Dutch’s hand.

“Mine,” was all he muttered, while his thighs slapped into yours, the obscene squelching between your thighs making you realise how much cum was being pushed further inside you. You heard Dutch’s laugh, but he walked away to allow John to finish undisturbed.

You pushed John back down against the bedroll, scratching back down his chest and further down until you reached where you were joined. You slipped your hand amongst the thatch of hair between your legs and finding your clit began to stroke it, the growing ache sparking back into life. John was watching you closely, his eyes dark and his teeth biting into his lower lip.

You squeezed your thighs tightly around John, you usually found that the second or third orgasm was more difficult to reach, your body already tired. But you rode him harder, your pussy clenching tightly around him and making John grunt and whimper into your shoulder. You pushed your breast against his mouth and he eagerly sucked on the nipple, the sharp sweet pleasure spiralling down and making you drop your head back as your third orgasm swept through you. Not as strong or heady as the others, but still good.

John suddenly let go of your breast and bit down on your neck, sucking hard and letting out a strangled moan before burying himself deep into you. He fell silent and still. You ran your hands several times through his hair and wiped the sweat away from his brow.

“You’re such a good boy, John,” you murmured softly and he nodded, pressing his face against your chest. You gave him a kiss on his forehead and then carefully got up, a trail of cum slicking down your leg and walked back over to the table, waiting for whoever was next.

Kieran

Kieran nervously approached you, he already looked worried and apprehensive. His hands covered his crotch and at first you thought he was hiding his erection, but when you went to undo his pants, you realised his cock was flaccid. His cheeks were pink and he looked down, but avoided your eye.

“I’m sorry, I just… with everyone here…” Kieran stammered.

You gently caressed his cock and it twitched slightly in your hand, but remained resolutely floppy. You took him into your mouth and began to suck, feeling the cock growing harder. But as Kieran took in a gasp of air, he looked up, and seeing everyone’s eyes on him meant he lost it.

“I’m sorry, you should just have whoever’s next,” he said miserably.

“No, Kieran,” Dutch answered for you. “You want to be part of this gang, you fuck that girl. After all, she’s treated everyone so well.”

Kieran gave a whimper as you continued to move your head back and forth, but it didn’t seem to help much. Finally, you got up and removed the kerchief around Kieran’s neck. You walked him over to a chair, so he was more hidden from view, and then tied the kerchief around his eyes. You knelt between his legs and undid his shirt, so his pale chest was before you.

You stroked a hand up his stomach and saw his cock jolt slightly. “It’s just you and me here, Kieran. Just listen to me and pay attention to everything I’m doing.” You sat in his lap and began to stroke his cock. “Does that feel good?”

He let out a shaky whine and nodded fiercely. “I keep thinking though…”

“Shh,” you whispered, then kissed his cheek, moving your lips down his cheek through the scraggly hair of his beard and sucking lightly on his earlobe. He let out a small gasp and thrust up into your hand.

“I’ve seen you looking at me,” you whispered so no one else could hear. “I’ve seen you gazing after me when my shirt gets soaked while I’m doing laundry or when I bend down to pick something up. And yet you’ve always been so sweet and polite, keeping your distance. Have you never wanted to fuck me?”

Kieran’s cock became heavy and hard in your hand and he let out a moan. He nodded once more. “I have, but… you’re so busy… and the other men…”

“Kieran, sweetheart, I’ll always make time for you. You’re allowed to call on me,” you said sweetly and felt him shudder against you. He suddenly lifted his right hand from the box and managed to find your waist.

“Can I… Can I touch your breasts?”

You almost melted at how sweet he was, in asking so considerately. You raised his right hand to your breast and he instinctively kneaded the flesh, before finding your nipple and slowly rolling it between his fingers. You let out a soft sigh.

“Mm, Kieran. You might have never touched me before, but you sure know how to.”

Kieran moaned against your neck, his hips furiously thrusting upwards, your hand slick with his pre-cum.

“My dear, you might want to-” Dutch began to say, but he was cut off as Kieran let out a garbled cry and his cum spurted all over your hands and fingers. He whined into your shoulder, as you milked him for all his was worth. You felt Kieran’s body shudder against you and then he let out a sigh, his body going limp. You heard Dutch’s testy sigh of annoyance.

“Dutch, he’s new-” you started to say, hoping to defend Kieran.

Dutch rolled his eyes and shook his head at Kieran. “Duffy, at some other time you best take Miss Y/L/N into your tent and actually fuck her properly. I’ll let you off this once, but don’t let it happen again.”

Kieran nodded weakly, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to you. You kissed the warm red flush on his cheeks, then began to lick away the sticky mess from your fingers. Kieran watched you, his eyes wide. You smiled as you felt his cock twitch against your leg. Maybe Dutch’s plan would happen sooner than he thought.

Javier

“You done yet?” Javier was waiting behind Kieran and the he watched the other man scurry away quickly. You finished wiping your hands and looked at Javier. He gave you a quick smile and then sat down in the chair.

“How do you want me?” you asked.

Javier tilted his head slightly and gestured to his lap. “How do you think?”

You smiled sweetly and then undid Javier’s pants, pulling free his length and straddling him. Your dripping pussy rubbed along his cock and you felt him grind up against you. But Javier let out a testy sigh.

“You ain’t even going to try to romance me?”

“Everyone else keeps telling me to hurry up,” You said.

“And will do the same with you, Javier! Ya ain’t here t’ have a chat!” Sean complained loudly.

Javier waved his hand flippantly at the other man, dismissing him. He pulled you closer against him till your breasts were pressed tightly against his chest. Javier’s mouth ran along your jaw and up to your ear, lightly pressing kisses and then sucking on your earlobe making you shiver.

“There’s always time for a little sweet talk, ain’t there mi amor?” he asked you, before rolling his hips against yours and making you let out a small moan of pleasure as the head of his cock pressed against your clit.

You pulled back so you could look into his eyes. “For you, Javier, always.” You ran your hand through his hair, that he had loosened, and felt him eagerly press into your palm. You stroked down his chest, lifting yourself up slightly so you could reach down and push his cock inside of you. Javier dropped his head back, letting out a small sigh and immediately thrusting up.

“Mm, you feel good, sweetheart.”

You barely had to do a thing, as Javier kept a smooth pace of thrusting in and out of you, which you were certainly grateful for now that your legs felt like jelly. His mouth found your neck and jaw, nibbling and kissing the bare skin, one hand cupping your breast and squeezing the nipple.

“How did we get so lucky?” he crooned softly. You only managed a quiet moan in response and he began to push you harder against him, forcing you to grind your clit against his groin. “Come on, sweetheart, want you louder than that.”

You whined at the sensation already sending small waves of pleasure through you as Javier’s hands travelled down to your ass and forced you to rotate your hips. He was always so attentive to you and you were flattered that he cared so much about fulfilling your own desire, as well as his.

“Ah, Javier, always such a charmer!” Dutch chuckled slightly. “Always so polite with the ladies.”

Javier’s eyes stayed fixed on you as he rhythmically fucked you. “When the lady is as beautiful as Y/N, it’s easy to be charming.”

You let out a breathy groan, but he quickly silenced you with a deep, passionate kiss. Javier’s tongue slipped past your lips and you moaned into his mouth. His hands made their way down to your waist, your thighs and then around your butt. Forcing you to ride him harder and faster.

You stopped the kiss and pressed your forehead against Javier’s, the sensitivity making you close your eyes and squirm. One of his hands stroked gently over your thigh and then slipped between you, finding your clit.

“Javier, I can’t!” you whimpered.

“Yes, you can. One for me, mi amor. It’s not fair everyone else gets to see that pretty face of yours lost in pleasure.”

You were too far gone to even point out that not everyone had tried to bring you to orgasm, but Javier’s sweet words and clever fingers soon forced your body into another wave of release. It was less strong and almost caught between both pleasure and pain. You ended up clinging to Javier as he pounded into you, holding you close and riding through his own climax. You barely heard him groaning into your hair.

“So pretty, so goddamn pretty,” he whispered, his lips trailing down your cheek. You gasped softly, wishing he could lay you down in his tent and the tender way he would usually rub your back and legs.

Instead, he helped you up from his lap and placed you down on the table, so you could get your breath back. He pressed a soft kiss against your forehead, then turned around and headed back towards the other men.

Sean

“Ah feckin’ finally,” Sean said, eagerly making his way over to you and sitting down on the chair that Javier had vacated. He undid his pants and pulled out his cock. You sat back on the table, your legs still felt weak and tired.

“How do you want me?”

“Jus’ suck my cock first, then we’ll see.” Sean grinned excitedly, but you frowned slightly, you were all too aware that Sean tended not to last long.

“You sure?”

“My dear, it’s not your job to argue with the men about their choices. Just do as Sean says,” Dutch’s commanding voice came from behind you, so you gave a slight shrug and got to your knees in front of Sean.

You ran your hand over his cock, gently teasing his balls and watching him try to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning too loudly. He eventually gave up and stroked the back of your head. It always surprised you how gentle Sean could be, he was almost tentative with his touch.

“C’mon, darlin’, need your mouth,” he murmured, he thrust his hips up and his cock bumped against your lips. You gently slipped your tongue over the tip and Sean moaned loudly, trying to push your head down further. You grabbed his hands and held the wrists tightly, before opening your mouth and slowly swallowing Sean’s cock.

“Oh yes, darlin’, tha’s it, tha’s real good…”

You smiled as Sean began to babble away, never quiet even for a moment. You pulled back a little and then began to suck on his cock. You let go of his wrists, running your nails down his thighs and bobbing your head up and down. You moaned around him and Sean thrust harder up into your mouth.

You let him slip out of your mouth, trying to ensure he at least lasted a bit by squeezing his cock and placing a firm hand on his thigh, but Sean had grabbed the back of your head and desperately brought it down on him. Even with your lips closed, he futilely thrust against them, his cock twitching against the slickness of your lips.

“C’mon, open your mouth!”

“Sean-” you warned, but he took advantage of your mouth being opened to say his name and forced his cock in between your lips. He grabbed the back of your head and began to thrust harder and faster, his long, thin cock hitting the back of your throat. Before you knew it, Sean stood up and continued to face fuck you. He was finally quiet, just grunts and groans slipping from his lips.

“Love hearing the noise of Miss Y/L/N’s mouth as someone fucks her like that,” Dutch said jovially.

You tried to grip onto Sean’s thighs and draw back, but he was too lost in how you made him feel and when you looked up at him, eyes wide and almost pleading, he suddenly came with a strangled gasp. He almost staggered as the hot, salty cum poured down your throat, and finished with a few small thrusts.

Finally, he stopped moving, his cock now flaccid in your mouth, but eventually he pulled it out. “Goddammit,” he muttered, then grinned and chuckled slightly. He wiped away a small streak of cum from the corner of your lips. “Tha’ mouth is just too good.”

“I did try to warn you.”

Sean shrugged and patted your cheek. “Still had a good time and ol’ Sean Maguire junior had the best of times!”

He stretched his arms out wide and strolled off, as though all the men gathered would be mightily impressed by his display. You hid a giggle as he walked off, his cock still dangling between his legs, and saw Arthur roll his eyes.

Micah

You had only managed to get back to your feet, when you spotted Micah shoving Sean out of the way and walking over to you. You grabbed hold of the chair to give you some strength and support, but Micah kicked it away from your grasp.

“Hey, Micah, come on, don’t be like-!” Lenny called out.

“You’ve had your turn, boy. Now it’s mine with the little whore and I’m going to show her how a real man fucks.”

He pushed you onto the table, so your breasts were against the hard wood and you felt Micah’s finger push into your pussy. He let out a disgruntled noise of disgust. “You enjoy letting every man have his way with you here? You like knowing that you got their cum mixed inside ya?”

You nodded weakly and felt a sharp, stinging slap land on your exposed cunt. You let out a whine of pain and jolted away, but Micah pulled you back and sharply pinched your clit.

“Micah!” you whined.

“As if your sopping cunt can feel anything at this point!” He began to furiously rub at your clit and you submitted to his rough touch, pressing your forehead against the table and moaning as the intense sparks of pleasure and pain ran through you.

Until a hand made its way under your throat and forced you to look up. You found yourself gazing across the circle, Arthur’s eyes on you. He looked pissed, but unable to do anything and turned his head away.

“Hey boss, mind if I break the rules a little?” Micah asked Dutch.

“What do you mean?”

“Think I might like it if she keeps her eyes on Morgan, while I fuck her.”

“You petty bastard,” Arthur growled.

Dutch chuckled indulgently. “Alright, I’ll allow it as that’s what you want Micah.”

“Good,” Micah said and then abruptly thrust inside of you, his cock hitting your cervix and making you almost scream, more with surprise than pain. You saw Arthur’s jaw clench tightly at the sound.

But there wasn’t much time to adjust as Micah began to roughly fuck you, his balls hitting your ass. He grabbed your arms, forcing you to arch your back and then wrapped a hand around your throat, so you were helplessly looking into Arthur’s eyes. There was always that rivalry between the two, and it led to both needing to show you a good time, though you never admitted who you liked being fucked more by.

“Come on, boss. May as well take advantage,” Micah growled as he continued to thrust into you hard and fast. He kept a hand wrapped around your throat, until you were gasping for air.

Dutch smiled and unbuttoned his trousers.

“Dutch,” Arthur said warningly, presumably going to remind Dutch that when one man was fucking you, it was only meant to be one man.

“You ain’t in charge, Arthur.” Dutch’s hand squeezed one of your breasts firmly and he seemed to admire Micah’s cock disappearing into your aching cunt. Dutch unbuttoned his pants, pulling free his length and bringing it to your face. You greedily opened your mouth and swallowed him to the root. Dutch sighed with pleasure and placed a hand at the back of your head.

“That’s it, darling.” Dutch was thrusting his hips, his cock choking you and bringing tears to your eyes.

He looked up at Arthur, who was watching the situation with a low burning rage in his eyes. For all the man insisted he wasn’t a good one, he certainly had a strong sense of fairness. “Don’t you worry, Arthur, I’ll call on your help in just a moment.”

“Lot of rule changes for Micah,” Arthur muttered, but you noticed his eyes were still on you. The way your clit was being bumped and grinded against the surface of the table, brought tears to your eyes as another wave of pleasure surged through you, but the way Micah was pounding into you gave you no opportunity for rest.

Micah slapped your ass several times and you could already feel the bruises that would blossom there. “That’s it darlin’, oh you sure know how to take a man’s cock. You sure know how we like to ruin ya.”

The swirling, dizzying feel of him meant you were barely able to focus on sucking Dutch’s cock. But finally, at long last, Micah groaned and let go of your neck, instead leaning on the table. He let out a raspy groan and you felt his hot cum spill inside of you.

He certainly wasn’t interested in murmuring anything sweet or romantic to you. Instead, he pulled out and you felt the cum dribbling down your thighs. You panted and clung onto the table, feeling completely spent and used, though Dutch had yet to take his turn. You rolled onto your back and tried to get your breath back.

Dutch

You watched Micah stagger away and tried to close your legs, your slit feeling sopping wet and aching a little. But two firm hands pulled your legs apart and you let out a small whine of complaint. Dutch’s dark curly head was between your thighs and his hot gaze was studying the cum dripping from your pussy. His eyes caught yours and they gleamed with satisfaction. He pushed back the cum inside you with his thumb.

“Very pretty, my dear.”

His thumb grazed your clit and you tried to pull away, the sensitivity almost making you black out. You weren’t sure if you could take much more. Dutch tutted and shook his head.

“Now, that certainly won’t do,” he said. Then got up from his haunches and looked pass you. “Arthur, come here.”

You heard Arthur approaching you and then he was at your side. His eyes were on Dutch, but you saw his eyes flick down to your breasts. Dutch smiled and reached a hand down to your breast, pinching the nipple between thumb and forefinger harshly. You squealed and tried to roll away, but Dutch grabbed your arms and brought you back to where you had been.

“This is exactly why I need your assistance, Arthur. If you could take her arms.” Arthur’s warm, large hands gripped your wrists and pinned them to the table. “Perfect.” Dutch unbuttoned his pants and slowly slid his cock against your wet slit. You moaned and Dutch tapped his cock against your swollen clit, enjoying your gasp and the way you tried to move your legs back.

He grabbed hold of your ankles, then placed your legs over his shoulders, his cock teasing your entrance. The swirling feeling of pleasure was overwhelming and you found tears coming to your eyes.

“Please, please Dutch… I can’t take much more,” you begged.

“Oh, but my dear, you did so well this evening. It was only Kieran and Sean who missed out on your very sweet, sensitive pussy. And now, it’s so wet, so slick. Do you think if you got pregnant, you would even know who the father is?”

You shook your head dumbly and watched as a smug smile grew on Dutch’s lips. It was just as well you had got that herbal remedy to stop a pregnancy from happening, but that was why you were all the men’s favourite. No risk, all reward.

Dutch’s hand drifted by your slit again, before his large finger pushed into your entrance and you moaned. He chuckled. “I’m surprised you even felt that, you’re absolutely drenched.” You felt another finger push inside, the cold ring sending a shiver down your spine as Dutch began to work the digits in and out of your pussy.

You heard Dutch’s mocking laughter once more. “I’m surprised Arthur still has it in him, but I think hearing how wet your pussy is and seeing your breasts move like that has got him going again!”

Arthur gave a muffled grunt from behind you and you tilted your head to see Arthur’s groin almost near your face, the hard outline of his cock clearly visible against his pants. Dutch’s fingers slipped out of your pussy quickly and grabbed hold of your chin, so you could no longer gaze up at Arthur. Dutch smirked and slipped his fingers into your mouth, and you tasted the musky scent of yourself mixed with the salty bitter taste of all the men who had just had you.

As Dutch slowly slipped inside of you, you tried to pull your arms away from Arthur, so you could gain some leverage and place them against Dutch’s chest. But Arthur had your arms in a vice like grip, and with your legs over Dutch’s shoulders all you could do was cry out as the man filled you.

“Absolutely depraved, my dear. You’re dripping. This whole situation turns you on doesn’t it, having all the men have their go with you and not even in the privacy of their own tents? Shameful, my darling.”

He began to slowly thrust inside of you, plunging deeper and hitting that sensitive spot that made you tilt your head back and groan loudly.

“That’s it, my dear. Just the way I like it. Arthur, why don’t you play with her nipples, they certainly haven’t had enough attention this evening.”

Arthur’s rough fingers began to teasingly stroke your nipple, his other hand still gripping tightly onto both of your wrists. Dutch’s hand reached down between your legs and brutally slapped your clit several times, causing you to whine and try to twist away, but the way you were kept prostrate between both men meant there was no escape. Another orgasm was building as Dutch continued to fuck you, though at this point you were so exhausted you could do nothing but lie on the table and moan.

“Arthur, put your thumb in her mouth, don’t need her keeping everyone else awake.” Dutch grunted a little and Arthur complied, removing his hand from your breasts and sinking his thumb in your mouth. You greedily sucked on it and heard the man gave a groan. You gazed at Arthur, who was grinding his hips against the table.

A heavy hand forced your head back to look up at Dutch as his hips slapped forcefully against yours. He offered you a wicked smile and then said to Arthur. “Why don’t you tease that pretty little bud of hers and I’ll let you watch her have her last orgasm tonight.”

Arthur released your wrists, you could feel a slight bruise blossoming on both. As Arthur circled your clit with his fingers, you almost blacked out by the jolt of pleasure that ran through you. It was too much and you cried out. Dutch’s movements were growing faster by the minute. You could no longer keep the overwhelming rush of pleasure at bay, as your oversensitive clit was pushed further and your muscles clenched tightly around Dutch’s cock. The dwindling wave of pleasure grew in strength, before overcoming you. It surged through you and you let out a hoarse scream.

You felt like you almost had blacked out or otherwise become so loss in your pleasure that you were only half aware when Dutch groaned, pushed deep inside you and shuddered slightly. The camp had fallen quiet and your eyes focused on the soft light of a lantern. You barely realised that Dutch had pulled out, until he swept you into his arms and began to walk to his tent.

Dutch lay you down on his cot. You heard him fiddle around with the wash basin next to his shaving set, before he walked back over and you felt a damp cloth cleaning up the mess between your legs. The pleasurable exhaustion was already setting in, you were half asleep by the time he slipped in behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Well done, my dear.” He pressed a kiss against the back of your neck and you drifted off feeling content and warm.