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bitterrfruit · 11 months ago

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price….. in a.. a.. cowboy hat

girl... you have no idea what you have done to me with this ask. Cowboy Price!?? I had so much fun with this, I might even do a part 2! I'm sorry this took me so long - I really hope you like it!!! ♡

18+ mdni - cw: chasing, spanking - 3.2k words

John Price owns the ranch that neighbours your father's. You've got a habit of climbing the fence between them, snooping around Mr Price's property and leaving traces of your misbehaviour behind. This time, he catches you.

Here’s part 2!

Daddy had warned you about wandering onto Mr Price’s property. The lichen-coated fence that separated his land and your father’s spanned miles; carving through tall dry grass, through woods of oak and pine trees, over a bumbling shallow creek. It was easy enough to climb over, but there was one little gap in the barrier, where the splintering planks had fallen from their fastenings. Tucked under a towering cottonwood tree, hidden by the grass, it was easy to wander through as if it were more of your own land on the other side.

Mr Price was a reticent man. An arguably shadowy figure, who you might occasionally see on horseback up on the hilltops of his ranch, tan cattleman hat bowed as he surveyed his acreage. You had met him, once or twice, as a girl. Then, he was in his early twenties, tall and aloof. Eldest of three sons, all three of whom had enlisted and served, sent to fight a war whose nature you were oblivious to in your innocence. He had been absent for years, and once his father was taken by whatever cancer he chose not to treat, John was the only one of the three to return.

His father you had known, vaguely, only as a man that your father despised with an unwavering passion. Some daft rivalry, dating back long before you were born. Whatever enmity existed between old men had not quite been passed on to the last remaining son, it seemed – where there might have been out-and-out conflict, existed only cold disinterest.

Thus explained your intrigue. You found yourself strangely captivated by him, in a nosy sort of way, once he had finally come home. Suddenly bearded and jaded, no longer the bright-faced young man you had distantly remembered, he had picked up where his father had left off. He lived alone, as far as you were aware, in his inherited six-bedroom farmhouse, atop a five-thousand-acre piece of natural splendour. Don’t bother the man, daddy would tell you, he’s not our friend.

But you had always been at the mercy of your impish curiosity. You couldn’t help it. It was an impulse, a compulsion, to stick your fingers where they didn’t belong. You would habitually explore his acres when you came home from college. You’d peek into his empty old shacks, pet his mooing cattle, pick handfuls of wildflowers from his unkempt fields.

Sometimes you’d sneak into his stables. You’d coo at his horses, stroke their velvet snouts, feed them the flowers you had plucked with a smile. They had grown to like you, his sweet horses, you wished you could know their names. They probably liked you more than him, no doubt, the mysterious little neighbour that would sneak in at dusk and feed them treats.

But your most regular habit – one that had gotten you into trouble before – was your proclivity for picking bunches of glossy red cherries from his rows of fruiting cherry trees. The orchard was under-loved and weedy, but those glimmering little baubles of ruby were just too delightful to let fall to the grass and rot.

He had caught you, once, while your arms were stretched far above you, reaching among the droopy branches and floppy leaves to pick the brightest sun-ripened cherries. You had heard him yelling;

“Hey! I see you in there, missy!”

Lips stained red, slick with sweet juice, you gave him a puckish grin before you ran off like a rabbit and hopped back over the fence.

“There’ll be trouble next time I catch you over here, little lady,” he had roared after you, watching you clamber over the oaken planks, “You hear me?”

It didn’t stop you, of course, whatever threat he threw at you. If anything, it emboldened you. Now you meandered down the rows of cherry trees like they belonged to you, picking the prettiest ones, popping them behind your teeth and meticulously nibbling the flesh from the pit, spitting them into the grass as you moved onto the next.

You left a trail wherever you ventured. Little wet pits and green tooth-pick stalks in piles around the place; in stables, along pathways, among the cows. Sometimes you’d leave juicy red fingerprints on doorframes, on the planks of the fence, on horse snouts – perfectly incriminating.

Today was no different. You wandered in scuffing sandals along an old dirt road, green sprigs of grass almost covering it entirely. Some old route that settlers may have followed state to state, spotted occasionally with two-hundred-year-old milestones, ignored just enough to have been spared from crumbling to dust.

Shaded by a cottonwood, humming to yourself, you created a little tipi with your cherry stalks on the flat top of a mile marker. Balanced them carefully as you licked the fruity flesh from your teeth. And when a gentle breeze blew it over, scattering your creation, you leaned over the stone to pick them from the dry gravel around its base.

One, two, three, four…

At the familiar rumble of a truck trundling over dirt, you straighten your spine, palms resting on the edge of the milestone as you look over your shoulder. A dusty Chevy square-body had already coasted to a stop behind you, red paint faded and matte after a decade or two of proper use and neglect.

There he was, the enigmatic man, hanging his elbow out of the open window. Mr Price squinted through the glare of the afternoon sun, crow’s-feet pinching, eyes barely shaded by the cattleman he wore even inside his truck. Your throat bobbed with a swallow as you caught his eye; the flitter of adrenaline buzzed in your chest, toeing the line between nerves and excitement.

With a disapproving suck of his teeth, he grumbled at you, “What’d I tell you about catching you back here?”

Plucking the short skirt of your cotton dress downward, to cover where it had ridden up, you spun around to face him demurely.

“You said there’d be trouble,” you answered with a simper, shyly scratching the back of one hand with the fingernails of the other.

“Mhm,” he grunted in agreement, tapping the metal door with his palm. He flicked his head in gesture for you to make your way around to the passenger side. “Get in.”

A crease pulled between your brows as you frowned at him. “What for?”

“I’m takin’ you back to your daddy,” he barked, irate and impatient, “I’ve got some words for him, too.”

You absently kicked the rocky dirt with the heel of your sandal, pouting at him. “What words would those be?”

With a snort, he rocked his head to peer out of his windshield, then back to you. “To keep a fuckin’ handle on his daughter.”

“Don’t think there’s anything you could tell him that he hasn’t already tried,” you mumbled, attempting to subtly flick the handful of cherry stalks you had collected to the ground.

He chuckled at that, breathy and hoarse, a hint of frustration in his throat. “I believe that,” he scoffed, “c’mon. In. Don’t make me ask again.”

You chewed on your lip, squinting in challenge as you stood up straight. “Or what?”

Glowering at you for a moment, his nostrils flared in frustration, as he seemed to swallow what must have been an inappropriate retort. Instead, his arm retracted through his window, and following the thud of the handle he swung open the door with his forearm.

With a hop he landed in the dirt, dust rising from under his well-worn leather boots. You hadn’t seen him up close in as long as you could remember, and Christ, how he towered over you. It may well have been the looming shadow of his sizzling anger that made him seem so daunting, so delightfully thrilling. You felt the shiver of gooseflesh tingle down the nape of your neck as you tilted your head to look up at him, sheepishly watching his steady approach.

“You’ll be in more trouble than I will if you lay a hand on me,” you spat, with a faint curl in your lips, almost daring.

He gazed down the bridge of his nose at you, wearing a snide and thin smirk, curled under his dense beard. But as his gaze raked you up and down, his sneer shifted quickly into a pout of disapproval, eyes caught on your chest.

“Care to explain this?” He queried severely, wide hand reaching for you; you leaned back further against the milestone behind you as if it might evade him. With his fingers he pinched the cream linen of your blouse, and for a moment you feared he was peering down the gap - brazenly inspecting your bare breasts underneath.

But, no, he instead curled the fabric between his fingers to show you the bright red stain dribbled down the front of your dress.

Oops. Your gut reaction was to giggle, yet unsure whether to admit guilt or feign ignorance.

As you parted your lips to speak, his judging hand suddenly moved to your face; a hold of your chin with a thumb and hooked finger. Piercing glare glued to your lips, his eyes sunk into a defeated ire, shadowed under the brim of his cattleman.

Your tongue writhed behind your teeth, heart thumping in your throat; as he tilted your head up and to the side. He used his other thumb to wipe your bottom lip, pointedly slowly, from the corner to the centre.

“You’re a little thief,” he gritted, dropping your head and peering at the red smear of juice on the pad of his thumb. “Aren’t you.”

Were you scared of him? It was hard to distinguish your fluttering heartrate between terror and thrill – perhaps a touch of both. Because you didn’t know him. You couldn’t trust him. You had no basis to assume he wouldn’t club you with a closed fist and throw you in the back of his pickup. But you felt the tingle his touch left behind on your lip. You got stuck on his pinched blue eyes, the glare of the sun reflecting off your dress illuminating them like they glowed from within.

“No I’m not,” you muttered, readjusting your dress after he left creases in the low neckline.

“And a liar?” He scoffed, as he grabbed one of your wrists – lifting your hand to reveal the sticky burgundy juice under your fingernails, red drips dried in your palm. “You’re covered in evidence, missy.”

Snatching your hand from him, you crossed your arms in petulance. “It’s not stealing if you don’t use it.”

“The fuck it isn’t,” he snapped, hooking his hands onto his hips. “Now get in the goddamn truck.”

“I can walk home,” you grumbled, “you’re not the boss of me.”

Huffing in anger, he leaned forward – looming over you with a domineering lour. “While you’re trespassing on my property – yes I am.”

Glaring up at him from under your brow, you nibble at the inside of your lip as you pouted at him. “What’re you gonna do if I don’t go with you. Kidnap me?”

He tilted his head, shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got some rope in the truck,” he gruffly warned, “you gonna make me use it?”

Did you imagine the glint in his eye? Did you make up the lascivious quip in his tone? Whether or not it was dreamt, it plucked a coy smirk in your lips.

He was daring you, wasn’t he? Goading you to challenge him.

So with a glistening smile you reached for his cattleman hat – plucked it from his head, and swiftly placed it on your own. Too big to sit properly, you perched it on the back of your head so that you could still see out from under the brim.

“Hey!” He barked, lunging to snatch it back from you – but you bolted, kicking off your sandals, ducking under his arm and sprinting across the dirt road. Through the field of grass and dry wildflowers, you bounded like a deer. “Fuck’s sake.”

Holding his hat in place, you peeked over your shoulder in your escape, and he was swiftly in pursuit.

“God dammit, girl, you get back here!” He roared – already closing the distance. You hadn’t expected a man as bulky as him to sprint as fast as he was, charging after you like a grizzly.

You only giggled, leaping over fallen logs and stray planks of wood, weaving between the tall white oaks that littered his prairies.

“If you get so much as a dent in that hat I’ll fuckin’–”

“You’ll what?” You squealed through a grin, holding the skirt of your short dress in a fist against your hips, to allow your legs to sprint in full stride.

You heard him grunt, close to a growl, as he encroached on you. “You’ll be in big fuckin’ trouble!”

Breathless, panting, you failed to think of any witty response as you dashed towards one of the many stables on his expansive property – this one devoid of horses or livestock, simply a storage building for stacks of haybales and racks of tools. You’d perused it before. He might have found more discarded cherry pits in there.

He was behind you already, as you barrelled through the ajar stable door, stumbling into the centre of the dishevelled space. Illuminated only by the cracks of glowing sunlight that broke through gaps in the plywood boards, you stood amongst dust and scattered hay. You turned and faced the entrance, watching in anticipation as he steamed in after you.

Face burning red in fury and exasperation, he jabbed two angry fingers in your direction. “Give me the hat,” he ordered, throaty and severely – no longer joking.

But stubborn as you were, overly enjoying the needless chase, you were not going to capitulate that easily. You stood poised to dash, and with hunched shoulders, he prepared to hound after you.

“I like it,” you puffed, exhilarated, purposefully impudent. You pinched the brim, pulling it down with a disingenuous hat-tip. “It probably looks better on me.”

“Even if it does,” he chided through teeth, out of breath, “it’s not yours.”

You snickered girlishly, pursing your lips. “Maybe it should be.”

“Give it to me.” He thundered, hand outstretched, your heart flipped in your ribs at the sudden eruption of stern rage.

So you spun on the ball of your bare foot, before flitting hastily towards the rickety ladder that led up to the hayloft. Clambering up it like a spider, the old wood and rusted nails squealed in dispute of being used for likely the first time in decades.

But he was blindingly rapid in his chase, and before you made it even halfway up the ladder, his heaving forearm scooped around your waist, hooking you by the stomach.

“C’mere,” he growled through a clenched jaw, as he peeled you from the ladder; hoisting you like a small animal, holding your back to his chest with a constricting arm, leaving your feet dangling high off the ground.

You writhed and kicked, bucking like a goat, still holding his hat tightly to your head to prevent him from snatching it back from you. “Let go of me!” You squeaked, still giggling.

“No,” he snarled, “I’m taking my fuckin’ hat back, and then I’m taking you back to your daddy so he can knock some goddamn sense into you.”

You whinged, clutching his thick forearm in an effort to loosen his grip; nails digging into his bronzed and hairy skin, corded with veins bulged from the exertion of keeping you contained. His body burned like a furnace, pectorals stiffening underneath you as he flexed them, while he hauled you towards the exit.

“It’s just a hat,” you whined, “you’ve probably got heaps of them.”

Your obstinance was aimless – no particular interest in the hat, and no true understanding of why you fought so desperately to keep it. Maybe you just wanted to see how far you could push him. Wanted to see what would happen.

“It was my father’s,” he griped, anger approaching a boiling point as you continued to squirm around in his grip.

You groaned in dispute, still holding the leather cattleman tightly to your head. “Well he won’t be needing it, will he?”

That was a step over the line.

You knew it immediately, quick to bite your tongue after the words spat from your lips.

And his retaliation was sudden and severe; dragging you closer to the exit, he tossed you unceremoniously, almost tumbling down with you into the pile of block-shaped haybales that sat by the stable door. You landed face-down against the bale, winded, a squeak jumping from your chest with the impact; and his hat toppled from your head, rolling out of reach.

He kneeled beside you, with his forearm weighing against your lower back - you were flustered and confused by his haste. Skirt hitched up by the fall, he suddenly swung his free hand down with an open palm, smacking against the bare skin of your ass with a thunderous whack.

“Ah!” You squealed, a shriek, followed quickly by a breathless whine that slipped from your lungs outside of your control. The explosive clap rang in your ears, echoing within the bowels of the stables, loud and shrill. And the sting was sharp, hot and prickling like a brand, no doubt the raised outline of his hand was quick to form in your shivering skin.

A silence followed, pregnant and heavy, and you dared not move nor breathe too loudly – you inhaled and exhaled with trembling breaths, lips parted and wet, eyes wide as you stared into the packed hay.

He was dead quiet, too. Panting throatily, he kept you in place; grip of you not easing, though he stayed utterly still. You thought he might apologise, might express some remorse, might beg for you not to tell your father what he did. But he was silent. Like he had even surprised himself.

You tilted your head slowly, peering at him doe-eyed over your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you whimpered, close to a whisper, dripping with pleading humiliation.

“For what?” He growled; his glower potently intimidating, a glimmer of voracity in his shadowy eyes, strained like he was suppressing greater hunger.

With a whine you turned your head back, facing ahead into the shack wall, you spoke quietly and nervously. “For taking your hat.”

Followed another swing of his arm, wide hand colliding with your rear in another deafening crack, forcing a laboured squeak from your chest. But there was something more than pain in your throat, wasn’t there? A whisper of thrill, a yelp of delight in your subsequent gasp.

And he must have heard it, took it as encouragement; as you felt the hand of his arm that pinned you down curl into a fist, balling the fabric of your dress tightly in his palm – lifting up the hem even further, you felt the cool air of the stable bite at your stinging skin as your ass was entirely exposed.

“Yeah?” He rumbled, gritting teeth, huffing like a beast. “What else?”

#bet his handprint is the size of a dinner plate #john price #call of duty fanfic #john price x reader #john price x female reader #captain john price #cod fanfic #john price x you #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price smut

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veshialles · 2 years ago

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the maternal urge to treat any deviation from your own personal worldview and experiences as a thought crime and a personal attack��

#mother: i've noticed that the tv volume sounds better sitting over here. have you noticed that?#me: no personally I haven't noticed any difference #mother: WHAT? HOW DARE YOU NOT AGREE WITH ME?? YOU ARE LITERALLY ABUSING ME RIGHT NOW!!!#me: i literally just said- oh why bother defending myself lmao #ruby rambles

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ghost-proofbaby · 4 months ago

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SIMPLE. (astarion ancunin x afab!reader)

based upon this request by @leahthesith: you've grown tired of astarion's games of jealousy, and it all comes crashing down one night when he chooses to spoil your fun with shadowheart.

warnings: mentions and allusions to astarion's past, as well as his sexual trauma. biting. lots, and lots, and lots of biting. oral sex ('f' receiving), smut. reader is not explicitly gendered/no pronouns are used. only a brief comparison of a 'schoolgirl crush'. reader has also had almost romantic interactions with several companions. 18+ - minors dni.

wc: 7.4k+

kinktober masterlist

There’s no reason for him to be looking at you like that.

No explanation, no justification, no reason for those jewel eyes to be glowering at you from across the tavern. For his fist to wrap around the mug of whatever he’s sipping on for show, pale skin going translucent in the dancing candlelight. For his entire chest having gone still the last several minutes, and for you to be unable to decipher if he’s simply too distracted to bother with the last of what remains of his living instincts or if it’s another instinct all on its own – if he’s holding his breath as he watches your conversation with Shadowheart.

Then again, there’s no real reason for you to be watching him back.

The matter of the fact is that you’re watching him just as closely, just as captivated by his presence from across the room, just to simply notice these things. The stillness in his shoulders and the glint that you swear must be his fangs poking past his lips should not be in your periphery. Your focus, all your attention, should be on the vibrant girl on the stool beside you. The dark beauty who’s speaking more with her hands than her lips, giggling over yet another glass of wine.

“You know,” she sighs wistfully, and you have to tear your gaze away from where it had wandered towards the vampire currently sulking away from the group, “The wine here in the city is much better than on the road.”

You hum as you distractedly take a sip from your own glass, tongue immediately peeking out to trace along your bottom lip subconsciously, as if you might be trying to savor the flavor. As if you can even taste the flavor. Your tongue has gone all but numb to the ruby liquid as a very different shade of red has captured your interest.

This could be the same wine from the druid party at the beginning of your journey, the party in which you snatched a bottle from the very shadow that is watching your every move, and you wouldn’t know the difference.

“It is,” you lie, swirling the red liquid a little bit, an attempt to bring back the taste all over your tongue.

And even if she buys your lie, Shadowheart can tell something is off, leaning in just a bit closer, peering at you just a little more concerningly, “Is everything okay? You don’t seem yourself.”

You don’t feel yourself. You should be feeling much more jubilant. You should be joining in on the same fun everyone else is having, toasting to yet another battle won. The end of it all was so close you could taste it.

And yet, you don’t. Because he’s in the corner brooding, and with him he’s seemingly taken both your mind and your mood.

“It’s been a long day,” It’s been one long day after another for months, it seems, “I suppose the wine is just making me relax a bit too much.”

That it is. The alcohol has managed to wiggle its way into your bloodstream, heading straight up your spine and to your brain. All your thoughts feather at the edge, and perhaps that was why you were watching Astarion back so intensely.

Months of this journey, and you still felt no closer to figuring him out than you had that very first night of discovering his vampirism. Each layer of him that you had peeled back only revealed more confusion to sit with. Some days, you swore you had him entirely figured out. You knew every in and every out of all his wits, and you knew all the steps to the dance in which he’d attempt to draw you into. You could play into whatever design he was spinning between the two of you; you could beat him at his own game.

But other days, days like today, you simply couldn’t.

All his flirtations, all his subtle seductions – you couldn’t decipher what was real and what was still for show. For every innuendo he’d whispered into your ear, he shared just as scandalous a comment with another party member. For every seemingly accidental graze of his cold skin against yours, he was attaching himself at the hip of another one of your companions. For all he gave, he would take just as much. Leaving you spinning in the hope of it all; leaving you with a yearning hunger that probably neared the threshold of his own vampiric hunger.

You want him. You hate him. He infatuates you. He irritates you. He is both sides of the same coin that has damned you every step along the way of this peculiar journey you’ve embarked on together.

“I know what you mean,” Shadowheart brings you back to reality with one swoop of her hair, a careful gathering of the locks to leave a shoulder exposed, “What is it that they always say? Wine is the secret ingredient for every bad decision?”

Your eyes trace carefully over her skin, the slope of where her neck meets her collarbone, the residual bruising leftover from the latest fight blooming beautifully over her. A welcome distraction.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard them say that,” you muse, a smile tugging on your lips, eyes still traveling. Up, up, up.

Over the line of her jaw, across the curve of her chin. Pillowy bottom lip and softly rounded nose. Softness – she’s made up of all soft and delicate features, such a contrast to someone such as Ast-

You must stop thinking about Astarion.

You’re no longer asking yourself of it, you’re demanding yourself of it. You make a point to move your body and head carefully, positioning yourself just so that the outline of the confusing vampire on your mind is entirely blocked out by Shadowheart’s silhouette.

“Oh, trust me – they say it all the time,” something simmers beneath Shadowheart’s returning grin, a sparkle in her eyes that should spark some sort of excitement in you. But it’s a hollow ache; you’re still painfully aware that he’s in the room, “Say, would you like to maybe… I don’t know, get out of here? I’m sure we could sneak some more of this exquisite wine to the room upstairs, perhaps find somewhere to relax together even more-”

“Oh, my dear Shadowheart, don’t you know that that would be thievery?”

His voice, so close and sudden, sucks all of the air out of your lungs.

“Astarion!” Shadowheart jumps a bit at his sudden appearance, but you hardly move a muscle. As though your body had been expecting him, as if you had always known the night was leading to this outcome, “I’m surprised to see you’ve given up your gloomy act to join us all. I thought you might sulk in the corner all night.”

His eyes lock on you, and the facade of his usual self seemingly melts. There’s something darker beneath the surface, an animal caged away, and you can see it as it bares its teeth, “Not sulking. Merely observing.”

You can’t speak. Your entire chest is still tight, lungs still deflated, by his proximity.

“Well, hard to tell the difference when you hide away in the darkness,” Shadowheart manages to get out before her lips press tightly together, clearly irritated at your companion.

She’d nearly had you. She had been giving you clear signals, doing away with any games of cats and mice, and she had nearly had you.

“It’s in my nature, I suppose,” his tone falls flatter than normal, the words void of all the airiness and usual cadence he accentuates.

He still has you far more enraptured than she’d ever stood a chance of accomplishing.

“We were just heading upstairs,” you blurt out, and Astarion’s eyebrows raise at your proclamation.

“Is that so?”

You don’t quite understand why, but you feel the need to over explain yourself, painfully aware of Shadowheart’s inquisitive gaze as she watches you fumble with your words, “Yes! I- I was just telling Shadowheart how tired I’ve grown. We were just calling it a night-”

“By stealing a bottle of wine?” his tone is growing sharper, and you squirm beneath what has almost become a glare. In an instant, he’s noticing all that discomfort, and you watch the facade be built back up in real time. Brick by brick, he once again resumes his usual role, voice raising a few octaves and a dangerous smirk returning, “And stealing our dearest cleric away from such a wonderful night of celebration? Nonsense! Allow me to accompany you instead, my sweet.”

The nickname rolls off his tongue as naturally as it always does. Sugary syllables, predatory purring. It almost reels you in until you remember the give and the take. The push and the pull.

Two sides, same coin. And you’ve yet to figure out the value of that coin.

“There’s no need for that-” Shadowheart begins to protest, but Astarion quickly cuts her off with a flourish of his hand.

“Please, I insist,” even with his words lightened, sweetened up the slightest bit, that animal still lingers below the tone. Shadowheart will not be accompanying you up to the room. That much you know. “You were clearly having such a good time. It’s truly no problem, I don’t mind watching after our fearless leader.”

“I don’t need to be babysat,” you snap, reactive like a dog threatened.

Like a dog cornered.

Yes, that was what you were. A rapid animal, backed up into a space, given no choice. Your heart was racing at the idea of being alone with Astarion. It was no longer a game of mental chess played across a busy tavern – it would be just you, just him, and all those terrible layers you had yet to decipher. It was a recipe for disaster. It was the perfect storm brewing, set for the destruction of you.

“I won’t be babysitting you, dear,” he smiles, and it looks more like a hungered sneer than a sign of genuinity, “Simply there, at your service, for whatever you may need.

I need you to leave me alone. I need our journey to be over so I can stop being your puppet to string along.

You wonder if the thought may have traveled over the tadpole bond and that was why his face falls, rather than your stubborn silence.

For a moment, you think Shadowheart is going to speak up. That possibly, she might just fight back against him, save you from the impending doom. But when her mouth opens, you hear the last possible thing you could have ached to have fallen from her lips.

“I… suppose I’ll be on my way then. Have a good night.”

Defeat.

It wraps around your name as she whispers it before she stands from her stool, unassuming to all your silent signals begging her to stay. Footsteps echoing over the commotion around you as she turns her back, and you feel the walls of this corner drawing in on you.

“I-” you start when you finally look back to Astarion, but he’s already reaching out to grab you.

“She’ll get over it,” he says harshly, pulling you along as if you were nothing. As though you weren’t digging your heels into the creaking floorboards below, as if you weren’t resisting him with every fiber of your being.

“Astarion- stop, I’m- I’m not worried about her,” you stutter out, cursing the way your voice falters, tugging against his grip on you, “Gods, why do you do that?”

The question has him halting at the foot of the stairs. The shadows encase the two of you as his eyes glow in the subtle darkness.

“Do what?”

“This.”

You wave your free hand in the space between the two of you wildly, as though that might suffice for explanation. But when Astarion only levels you with a blank stare, you know it won’t. You know it doesn’t.

“You pull me along, you push me away,” you continue, heart still racing wildly, breaths coming out short and fast, “You treat me like something special and then discard me, and the moment I seek out that genuine treatment from someone else, you’re back to collect me as your own personal play toy. I want to know why.”

For all the exasperation you feel, there’s a pride beneath it all. The pride of being able to articulate, the smugness of assuming you’ve left him speechless. You haven’t.

Today is not one of the days in which you can beat him at his own game.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he claims, chin lifting just an inch, eyes flitting towards the ceiling before making their way to the bar scene behind you. Anywhere but you. “I’ve done no such thing-”

“Bullshit,” you spit out, “Bull-fucking-shit. You’ve done it numerous times, Astarion. Do you not recall the night in which Gale had approached me, offering to teach me about the Weave, and how you’d interrupted-”

“Our dearest wizard would have bored you to death. It was a mercy to interject.”

“-or the night of the tiefling party, when Karlach had been on the verge of confessing something that seemed an awful lot like an admittance of liking me-”

“Karlach likes everyone. Have you seen the eyes she makes at Wyll?”

“-And how about the time when Lae’zel openly invited me to share a bed with her, and you’d overheard, and obnoxiously guffawed? Hm? What’s your excuse there?”

Finally, his grip has slackened on your wrist, allowing you to pull both arms tightly across your chest as you glare at him. Chest still heaving, mind still reeling.

He clearly doesn’t have a very good answer as his lips twitch briefly into a pathetic smile, fading quickly as he shrugs, “Well, I simply found the entire image conjured amusing.”

Your heart nearly stops, leaving your chest as empty a cavern as Astarion’s, “You find the image of someone wanting me, wanting to lay with me, amusing?”

And for all he plays dumb, Astarion is not a fool.

He catches the fall in your demeanor, the way your arms slowly drop and your entire face contorts with your frown. Damage has been done.

“No, wait, I-” he tries to begin damage control, but the damage has been done.

“Save it,” you cut him off, “I’m going upstairs now. You can continue on your moping down here in the shadows – I don’t need a babysitter.”

He almost looks as defeated as Shadowheart had when he’d intervened for a second, a second just long enough that you begin taking the long strides up the stairs. You think you’ve gotten the last word, for that eternity of a second. Making it all the way to the first platform, turning to take on the second set of stairs.

When suddenly, your back is flat against the wall behind you, a cold body pressed against the entirety of yours.

“I do not find it amusing,” Astarion huffs, those beady eyes suddenly staring right into yours, lips dangerously close to your own. The defeat has been long forgotten, “The image of you with the others – entranced by Gale’s magic, giggling by the fire with Karlach, on your knees for Lae’zel – is not amusing,” his hands are tight on your hips, bruising grip keeping you pinned with no escape. His body rolls, every inch of his clothed skin beginning to press against your own, “You, laying with anyone else, is the farthest thing from amusing, darling.”

His head tilts in warning, forehead nearly pressed to yours, the end of his nose bumping against yours. You can feel every unnecessary breath he takes. Every huff of his sudden irritation invades your space, and all you can do is attempt to turn your head.

One of his hands is quick to reach up, pinching your chin between his thumb and pointer. You want to look away, but he won’t allow it.

“Would you like to know the truth?”

A loaded question. A ticking time bomb when it comes to this game between the two of you.

You decide to set the fuse aflame when you nod your stiff head against his pinching grip.

“The truth is,” he takes a deep breath, one you know he doesn’t need. He’s sucking all the air out of the room, air he has no need for, before his heavy eyes pour into yours. You’re blinded, all visions of red and smoky warning signs, the chatter of the tavern faded to nothing, “the image of you laying with anyone else absolutely infuriates me.”

Anyone else.

You open your mouth to respond, not even sure what you could possibly say to that, but it’s Astarion’s lips on yours that kills all words on your tongue.

There are no witnesses. Not a single soul below can see as he all but devours you, hungry lips melding to yours in desperation. The shadows he had been taunted for haunting for the night now serve as a veil, allowing you to cling to what’s left of your dignity. If anything, it feels as though he might be controlling the shadows, beckoning them to come and wrap the two of you up as his arm sneaks behind your back, pulling your body tightly to his as he chooses to steal the breath directly from your lungs now.

The push, the pull – the coin. The value, it seems, is finally coming to light.

Through the kiss, you can feel the damnation of all the emotions Astarion must have been holding back for the journey. All the want, all the yearning, all the anger, all the confusion – every single emotion you’ve been battling, breaking the surface as his fangs nip at your bottom lip.

It takes more willpower than you’d expected to shove him away.

“Astarion-” you gasp out, taking gulps of air into your burning lungs.

“Tell me to walk away,” he begs, body still aligned with yours, hands still clinging to you, “Tell me to leave you alone, and this time, I’ll obey.”

Your tongue can’t move. The depths of his whispers, his pleads, are ringing in your bones, and you can’t say the words he asks of you.

“Say it,” he presses on, his fingers only digging deeper into your hips. You can’t tell if they’ve gone numb from the chill of his fingers, or from the lack of circulation due to his strength, “Just say it, and I’ll do it. Say anything. I’m yours to command.”

You should tell him to walk away. You should call off the game of cat and mouse. You should save what’s left of your soul for someone else, anyone else, who won’t send your head spinning with a plethora of mixed signals.

“Room. Now.”

Of course, you don’t.

The game was never one-sided. It was never you, a merciful victim of Astarion, always trapped in his shadows. It’s a game for two – and you’ve earned your blame in it all, the same as Astarion.

And you continue to earn it as your hands tangle up in the snowy curls at the nape of his neck, silvery strands slipping between aching knuckles, lips attaching themselves to his porcelain skin as he guides you up that final flight of stairs. You’re not thinking of Shadowheart, not thinking of anything delicate or soft. Harsh clashes of teeth, harsh bites to rebuttal his fangs against you, harsh fingers digging into soft meat, harsh red lines left behind across his skin that fade away too quickly for your liking.

Harsh, harsh, harsh.

All your tensions and frustrations are put into the meshing, and you hardly notice once Astarion’s gotten the two of you through the threshold of the shared room. Everyone else is still downstairs, still celebrating, still cheersing and chatting away. Completely unaware of your demise. Oblivious to what’s about to happen.

Anyone else.

It’s been a long time coming.

You can see flashes of it in your mind as he carries you with him, door locked behind his back before he’s finding one of the vacated beds to lay you down onto. The night you’d discovered his vampiric nature, the night you had been his mirror with his scars, all the times in which he’d blatantly saved your ass during fights. The blurry figure that is your savior, conveniently getting between you and goblins or shadows alike as he buries his daggers to the hilt. Always there, always watching.

Always yearning.

Your heads sing in tune as that tadpole connection comes to life, like an exposed nerve as you feel it all reciprocated from him tenfold. Flashes of yourself, with soft eyes and gentle words. Patient palms and charming smiles. A pulling gravity so grandiose that it sparks sheer fear.

The room is quiet save for your gasps every time Astarion’s lips leave yours long enough to allow for breathing, the ruffling of clothing and bed sheets filling the air soon enough. Just quiet enough you can hone in on that fear, dig your claws into it instead of his back, focused entirely on following it all the way down.

More memories of his overriding yours. His exposure of Cazador, his admittance of his past. All the trust he put into you – all the faith he’d blindly handed over to you on a silver platter, only reminiscing and regretting once he was left to his own devices at the end of the day.

And then came the jealousy.

You’d already felt enough of it through his kisses and movements – the way he pins your body beneath his, the way his fangs graze your exposed neck – but it nearly drowns you once the connection has opened the floodgates.

The image of you and Gale, and a twist in your gut like no other. Incomparable to even vampiric hunger.

The image of you and Lae’zel, and a burn in the back of your throat that drives you beyond reason.

The glimpse of you and Karlach, and the urgency rising in your chest to simply stop it. To pull the brakes, not once considering the consequences.

Every small moment between you and someone else – companions, strangers, those who have helped along the way – is given to you from Astarion’s point of view. You feel all that he has felt; you burn as he has burned.

You feel a glimmer of understanding, a pitiful ounce of sympathy, but then you remember all that you have felt. All that confusion, all that unsureness. Every time you’ve had to question the glances the vampire offers in your direction or double back on his words.

He’d done it to himself. You had to remember that – he’d done it to himself every single step of the way.

“You could have said something,” you whisper out as his lips travel down the path of your neck, sharp tips of his fangs pressing to your pulse but not quite breaking skin, “You could have just told me.”

He’s lithe as a cat above you, each scrap of clothing being removed between the two of you exposing more of your bare flesh to the chill of his. You can feel all those muscles beneath his surface, and you can feel the hesitation as you say this. The freeze – the pause.

“You make it sound so simple.”

The fangs scrape at your jugular as he whispers it, mouth shaking as he uses all his self-constraint to not simply bite down. Taste your sweet blood, let it sing on his tongue rather than this conversation you can tell is setting fire to all his anxieties. He doesn’t want to talk.

You’re not even sure if you want to talk.

But you do, with the weight of him between your hips and his hands dancing along your torso. Your head is thrown back as you sigh, “It could be.”

It could be simple, it could have been simple this entire time, if only he’d allow it.

He’s had you dancing beneath his spell since the moment you’d met him. You had offered yourself over to him, time and time again, knowing all the costs. Despite the warnings from others, and despite all the sirens sounding off in your head every time your eyes had met his, you’d still pined. Still fantasized what this current moment might taste like as you’d lay in your tent at night, still chased after his attention across Faerun. If he had just directly said the word rather than stringing you along, burning in private – you would have been his far sooner than now. He could have had you in the palm of his hands long before he’d ever spotted the Gate of the city.

He has you now, though. Entirely encapsulated, bending to every whim of his fingertips.

A flick of his wrist, and you’re exposing more of your neck. A nudge of his knee, and you’re arching your back to press more of yourself against him. Offering your skin, offering your soul, offering your blood. A silent temptation for him to simply devour you whole; a silent begging to not complicate things more than what was necessary.

You had both been in the wrong. He had sent mixed signals, and you had been complicit in your own silence.

And right now, you weren’t particularly in the mood to rehash and reassign blame.

“Show me how simple it could be,” his voice is muffled against your skin, lips velvet against your pulse. It nearly frustrates you – was that not what you were currently doing? Were you not proving to him just how easily he could unravel you with those cold, cold palms? “Go ahead, darling. Prove me wrong.”

You’re not the one meant to take an action, though. Your hands fly up, fisting at his white curls, and you apply pressure to let him sink deeper into your skin, but you’re not the one who can break the barrier.

It’s him that must – his fangs must do it. The first bite, the smallest of sips.

Your blood trickles past his lips and you let out a sigh. As if this was what you were waiting for, as if this was all that it took. Your vitality draining slowly to invigorate him, your breath becoming his, your heart now beating for both of you.

He must feel it. He must taste it.

The simple entanglement of the living and unliving. How simple it was to become his.

You swear you only allow your heart to race as it does to encourage your blood to pump faster onto his eager tongue. He laps at it, hums at the taste, his grip on you becoming stronger with each pass of the ichor. Each passing second with his mouth glued to the side of your neck isn’t marked with the tick of a clock, but the roll of his hips, and your own desperate legs shaking in those precious moments between, cursed to choose between tightening shut around his hips or spreading wider to encourage more of him to occupy you.

Just as you start to feel light-headed, he pulls back. Wide and vibrant scarlet eyes boring into yours, fangs tinged pink with you poking against his bottom lip.

The tadpole connection has gone silent. Not due to either of you cutting it off entirely, but due to the lack of thoughts transpiring. Both your minds have gone quiet, and all that’s left is the warm buzz of knowing you’re connected. Static that you can feel at the back of your head, running down your spine, all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

Simple. Mind-numbingly simple.

You can feel the spark of something snapping after only a few moments of eye-contact, and you know it’s the ember that blazes within him as his next few actions transpire. Messy kisses leaving behind a trail of pink spit along your skin, hands no longer grappling at you mindlessly but with intention. He slips them between your thighs, a finger trailing down your cunt in time with his tongue down your sternum. What might be a memorized dance to him has become an entirely unknown experience to you, body buzzing with the novelty when his fingertip’s cool caress circles your clit before he slips down to your hole. It’s seamless – the stretch, the crook of his knuckle against you as he sinks deeper, the relief in the curl of your toes.

“You’re not another mindless dance,” he murmurs as he sinks deeper and lower, an unnecessary breath escaping him across your lower abdomen.

He’d heard it. He’d heard all of your thoughts at the moment.

You peer down at the ethereal sight of him between your thighs, his hair and mouth seemingly shimmering with all the stars and moon itself, “No?”

“No,” his voice is strong as he lets the tip of his nose press against you, mouth creeping closer to where two fingers now pump within you, “You’re not like the others.”

He doesn’t elaborate, even as the haunting question of who the others might be echoes within you. He completely distracts you as his fingers slip from your cunt and his tongue begins its work, worshiping you with every flick of it. Nose, tongue, breath – they all work in conglomeration as the unraveling truly begins. Every ounce of you is tensing, combating all the relief of having his mouth on you, as he pushes you closer and closer to a precipice you’ve only dreamed of him guiding you to.

The suckle of his lips. The cut of his fangs when he gets a bit too excited. The lap of a tongue like a dog worshiping at your altar. It’s all almost a bit much.

When your hands travel to entangle in his hair, you can feel the hesitation. For a moment, you believe he might reach up to take your touch away. Force you to grasp at the bed sheets, at the edge of the mattress, at the frame above your head. Anywhere but him.

But he doesn’t.

The pause only lasts a few seconds before he’s returning to his mitigations, even more intent than before. Words that could never be spoken between the two of you take the shape of his lips around your clit, sucking almost as hard as he had at your neck. An animal seemingly overtakes him, his mouth not leaving you for the mortal necessity of breathing, but rather for something harsher; he breaks away only for his fingers to slide back within you, and immediately takes to biting at your thighs.

It isn’t like he had done to your neck. This time, he’s not chasing after your blood. Nips and fuller bites, not just his sharpened canines sinking into fletch but his front teeth as well.

These aren’t bites to drink from you. These are bites to claim you.

He lines your legs with them, scattered sporadically as he shifts himself up and down. From the apex of your thigh down to your ankle, there’s hardly an inch of your skin that doesn’t paint with Astarion’s touch. The bite marks, lingering outlines of his hands clinging to your flesh, patient hickies left throughout.

You’re mine.

The message is clear enough whether you had seen it in his actions, or if he had sent it through the bond. You understand well what point he is making.

The point stands stronger and stronger when he works his way back up your body. He offers your hips the same worshiping treatment, leaves his imprints across your chest as well. A few marks brand your shoulders and neck, matching the two pricks that started this entire devourment.

“Do you have any idea of the hold you have upon me?” he sighs out as he holds himself above your body, hovering just close enough that your skin jumps as the skin of his abdomen brushes your own, “Our entire journey, I have been so focused on… on freedom, on abandoning the concept of ever being controlled…” he trails off, and when he looks into your eyes this time, you can see something clicking into place. A fearsome realization. “Only to end up in the thralls of your beck and call.”

You hold your breath and await the inevitable. This is the part where he runs. Where he removes his flesh from yours, where he jumps across the room and surely spits out some sarcastic remark. It’s the time in which he is meant to break all the hope that had been built over the minutes spent alone. He’ll make some nonchalant remark, or a crude joke, and he’ll go make eyes at some other poor fool below. He’ll cast his spell over someone else, anyone else. He’ll leave you, wanting and yearning and hopeless, once more.

His body stays above yours, the thin fabric of space shaking between you two.

With a trembling hand, warm against his skin, you take a chance, “I’m not your master, Astarion.”

You aren’t.

You have no desire to control him the way he describes. You would curse the day should you ever become something even comparable to being a placeholder for Cazador. He isn’t telling you anything new; you’ve known his end goal of this entire journey. Astarion has always wanted one thing and one thing only – freedom.

And you thought you’d been helping him. Following him blindly through the woes, helping him achieve his ultimate goal wholeheartedly. Never for a single second had you assumed the role he’s seemingly given you.

A short laugh escapes him, the smallest of smiles flitting his face, “No. No, you aren’t. And that only enthralls me further.”

His lips descend upon yours in a fervent fashion, even more desperate than before. It feels as if he’s actually trying to devour you whole this time – it feels as though he might actually accomplish melding you into his existence, sinking you right into the marrow of his hollow bones.

When his cock sinks into your heat, it’s ecstasy. Euphoria. Everything you’ve been wishing for. Everything you’d been hoping for. You stretch around him, just as you had his fingers, body eager to take in every last inch of him. The buzz becomes a roar and your entire body feels as though it might be on fire. You want more, you need more, and he’s more than willing to give it.

More, more, more.

His hips roll agonizingly slow against yours, making sure every movement is felt across every nerve ending within your body. Deep within your gut, down along your thighs, all the way up your chest. You feel him everywhere – he makes sure of it.

Centuries, his voice curls through your mind like dark smoke. For centuries, this body has felt tainted. Never quite mine, never quite clean.

His hands are shaking as he lets them caress down your sides, over your hips, clinging for support.

You take that feeling away.

The words are heavy, the press of his chest over you heavier. Your own hands wander, and you make a point to avoid the scars on his back. The ones hardly deciphered, the ones that have tied him to a fate you refuse to let him succumb to. No amount of jealousy, no amount of spite, can reverse that ardent decision within your mind.

You’re not an old coat, Astarion. You whisper it back, along the bond, your physical mouth gaping wide open as you tilt your head back into the pillow, feeling yourself tighten around him. You’re not a worn pair of boots. You’re a person.

A terrible mon-

You cut off his rebuttal, a complicated person. Snarky, indecisive, too flirtatious for your own good. But still a person, and still worthy.

Two simple words, and they send shudders through his entire body. Still worthy. You don’t look at him as something to be discarded or owned; you don’t envision him as a prize or a trophy. And you certainly don’t see only his flaws when you look at him. When his ruby eyes meet yours, both his and your own eyelashes flutter ridiculously as all the pressure mounts, the blush of your blood across his cheeks and running down his throat, you both know. You don’t need to put it into words.

Even when he infuriated you. Even when he made you second-guess his companionship in the beginning. Even when he made you swoon like a schoolgirl only to divert his attention. Never once have you fully faulted him for the mistakes.

He’s done bad things. You’ve all done terrible things. And yet, you still want him.

He’s worth more than the sum of his worst moments, even if he hadn’t bedded you tonight. You would still help slay Cazador. You would still fight tooth and claw for his freedom.

You love him. You hate him. You hate to love him, you love to hate him. It’s all smoke and mirrors at the end of the day when you’re feeling the weight of him collapse on top of you. And it’s mutual. The complicated, infuriating emotions are all reciprocated.

Every inch of your skin stings with the lingerance of his fangs and lips, gasps and mews slipping between your lips as he picks up his pace. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs and hips in a failing attempt to pull your body back to his, the reciprocation languid in every stroke. Every slap of his skin against yours, every moan of his own – they mingle in the air and spell out the inevitability of this moment. You swear you feel his sharp nails nick you, a bead of blood no doubt bubbling and staining the sheets below.

You don’t care. He doesn’t, either.

Your whine echoes through the empty room right along with a harsh grunt from him. He’s ravaging you. Bruising you inside and out.

“Fuck, Astarion,” you gasp out, giving up using the bond. Your mind has melted far too much for coherent thoughts as both your breaths quicken, both abdomens tightening as you feel him reach even deeper inside your cunt, “Fuck.”

You can feel him letting go just as it feels as though your body might give out. Blissful soreness hidden behind a curtain of pleasure that turns your vision white. You almost wonder if your body had been simply a vessel for his own pleasure this entire time.

You wouldn’t mind if it had been, but he’s made damn sure it isn’t.

You’ve never felt quite as cared for as when his hips stutter, feeling warmth fill your fluttering cunt as his open mouth places random kisses anywhere they can reach. His head falls to the crook of your neck and you can feel his tired lips pressing repetitively over your marked neck, your shoulder. They even graze the original bite mark, and the simple action sends shockwaves through you to join the rest of the residual quakes that keep your legs shaking around his waist.

The bedlinen sticks to your skin from a mixture of blood and sweat as he collapses next to you for a moment, still curling up to you like a cat. Nose running along your bare shoulder, lips still reaching out for you.

It takes you a second, but when you finally catch your breath, you can’t help but ask the dreaded question, “Does this mean you’re officially mine?”

His chuckle is unexpected, vibrating against your chest as he rolls most of his weight off you and lifts his head, “Have I not made that much obvious?”

“I just needed to make sur-”

He cuts off all your hesitation, lifting the entirety of his upper body now, “Allow me to make this very clear to you, darling. I have been yours since the moment you reacted to me holding a dagger to your throat with a damned headbutt.”

You smile sheepishly, “So you’re telling me when I did that… I knocked some sense into you?”

“Never,” he scoffs, waving a hand, the only sign of his own fatigue to match yours being the way he drops back down at your side. You don’t miss the faint smile gracing his lips, “But it was an impressive move. Quite enchanting for this old heart of mine.”

“So now you admit that you’re old?” you joke, prodding at an inside joke that had been ongoing since he’d admitted the entirety of his vampiric nature to you. He’d always pouted like a child at any mention of his age, but he’d always allowed only you to get away with any jabs at it. Your entire group still doesn’t speak of his reaction to Gale trying his hand at one of the jokes, “Goodness, what has gotten into you, my Star?”

He flushes at the nickname, eyes diverting as he slowly creeps his body up the bed, face to face with you now. Your heart tightens a bit when he takes his time replying, swallowing hard, tongue peeking out instinctively as he runs it over his lips and fangs slowly.

You almost believe he won’t look you in the eyes again, but he does. As he says the heaviest words yet, he looks to you as if you’re the only thing in the room for this moment.

“I care for you,” his voice comes out tight, nearly strained. “Deeply. You make me want to be… a better… man, monster, whatever I might be. And if that’s a crime?” he pauses, and takes another one of those pesky deep breaths that you’re well aware aren’t vital to him. A glimmer of the human, the person, beneath the self-proclaimed monster. “Well, I haven’t been much of a rule follower thus far in our journey anyways, have I?”

You pay no mind to his joking tone, seeing the words for what they are. Your hand reaches up, fingers carding through silver waves, and you can’t help your grin when he doesn’t swat you away as he had done Shadowheart for the exact same show of affection the week before.

I adore you, Astarion.

Quiet words. Silent words. Only for the two of you, within the confines of a shared mine.

He clears his throat uncomfortably, “Mind you, I may need some time, given all the memories this wretched city brings-”

“Take all the time you need,” you interrupt. From the second he’d opened up to you, offering that vulnerability in the heat of the moment regarding his body, you’d seen this coming. “I can wait for you, my love. Let’s just focus on surviving all this, yeah?”

He can’t hide his affection. It’s written plainly on his face, it travels clearly across the bond.

“Yes,” he whispers back, reaching for your wrist finally, but only to hold it placid as he turns his lips towards it. You think for a moment he might bite you one final time, and you’d let him, but he surprises you. No fangs appear – only the softest of kisses against the most vulnerable of skin. “Survival. Of course.”

It’s not so much words as it is an image, a promise, that comes to mind from him. The fluttering of a future he sees being possible, the threat of a city burned down should any harm come to you.

“And no more jealousy,” you croak out, trying to not be overwhelmed by his own emotions mixing with yours. “You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

Another kiss to your wrist, this one far quicker, far more habitual than the first. He’s kissing you simply because he can.

You know there’s more behind his smile when he whispers, “Oh, of course, lover.”

And you find out later on the reason for such a mischievous smile, once he’s cleaned you both up and migrated for you two to rest in his claimed bed. When Shadowheart is the first of the group to enter the room, confronted with the image of you curled up on Astarion’s chest as his fingers dance over your aching skin, you don’t even have to wake up properly to see the vision of a smug Astarion through your dreary eyes.

Words are exchanged, but they’re lost to you in your sleepy state. You only catch the ones that matter.

“Astarion! Are those bite marks-”

“Mine?” if you were any more conscious, you would have scolded him. He knows it, too, as he squeezes you closer to him, “Why, yes. Yes, they are, our dearest Shadowheart.”

Shadowheart’s huff of breath tells you all you need to know about Astarion’s smirk. You’ll talk more of jealousy in the morning.

#ghost's writing #kinktober #week 1: vampiric desires #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion smut #astarion x tav

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downbad4sylus · 23 days ago

Text

“This mark is different”

(part 3 to “I killed you”)

synopsis: You and Sylus return to the base from the field of flowers where he shows you his horns.

content: NSFW; 18+ MDNI; smut with some plot; sylus x afab!reader; reader is MC; use of Y/N; soft!sylus; virgin!sylus (i am of the opinion that sylus wouldn’t so much as breathe near another woman who isn’t MC); virgin!reader; kissing; oral (fem receiving); p in v; soft sex; slightly rough sex; no protection (wrap it up kids); multiple orgasms; idk if this counts as monster fucking but sylus has horns and a tail; mostly proofread

word count: ~3.5k

tags: @travelerth; @midiplier; @satansdaughter123; @bookfreakk

a/n: massive thank you once again to everyone who’s read, liked, and reblogged parts 1 and 2, i genuinely can’t express how happy it makes me that so many of you have enjoyed these little stories :’) anywaayyy, in honor of the new banner and all the new spicy content (bless our game developer overlords) here is part 3 where things between you and Sylus get a little spiicccyyyy

Okay, so when Sylus asked if you wanted to go back to the base and see his horns, you might have taken him a little too literally.

What you thought was him innocently taking you to his bedroom—warning the twins on your way that he still didn’t want to be bothered—turned out to be far from that.

Which was how you found yourself currently pinned beneath him on his bed, tongues tangling and lungs screaming for air, no horns in sight. Or tail. Or wings.

You lightly pounded a fist against his chest. “Sylus…I need…to breathe…”

Sylus was loath to part from you, but did so regardless, taking the opportunity to marvel at the sight of you before him. Flushed cheeks, swollen lips, chest heaving. You were beautiful, perfect, and his.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, making sure he had your consent before he continued.

You bit your lip, and he nearly lost control then and there. How many times did he have to tell you to stop doing that?

“How far are we going?” you asked softly.

“As far as you want, sweetie,” Sylus assured. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

“I, um, haven’t really done anything before,” you confessed, turning your face away so you didn’t have to look at him.

Sure, you had a few boyfriends throughout the years but you’d never had more than a heated makeout session, it was usually the reason why those relationships ended. You weren’t a prude or anything, you were just saving yourself for when someone really special came along. Or maybe you’d unknowingly been waiting for Sylus to come along.

Sylus pinched your chin and forced your eyes back to his. “Me neither.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. “Really?”

He nodded. “I’d never give myself to anyone but you.” He released your chin in favor of dragging a finger down your neck before wrapping his hand around it, careful not to choke you. “I do, however, have a very good memory.”

Your heart thundered in your chest. You wanted him. You needed him. And most importantly, you trusted him.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay what, sweetie? I need you to tell me exactly what you want,” Sylus said, his thumb rubbing soothingly along the length of your neck.

“I want you, Sylus, all of you,” you said. “I want you to make me feel good.”

“Oh, Y/N, I’ll do so much better than that.”

He released your neck, trailing his large hand over your chest and down your stomach until his fingers teased the hem of your shirt.

“May I?” he asked.

You nodded. “But I get to take off yours next.”

Sylus chuckled. “Are you trying to make a deal with me right now?”

You nodded again, smiling. “For every one thing you strip off of me, I get to strip something off of you.”

His ruby-red eyes sparkled. “And those are your terms?”

“Those are my terms.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

You eagerly sat up and held your arms above your head. Sylus huffed, clearly amused by your enthusiasm, and gripped the bottom of your shirt in both his hands. In one smooth motion, he removed it, tossing it aside as his gaze roved hungrily over your now-bare skin.

When you reached for his shirt, intent on running your hands all over his delicious abs, you suddenly found yourself back against the mattress, wrists pinned to the pillows.

You blinked to find Sylus hovering above you sporting a positively wicked smile.

“Sylus! What are you doing?” you exclaimed, fighting to free your wrists.

He cocked his head. “You never said when you got to rid me of my clothes,” he drawled in that infuriatingly smug tone of his. “You need to be more specific when setting your terms, sweetie.”

Your mouth popped open. This was what you got for trying to make a deal with the King of Deals himself.

“Now, let’s get rid of this next,” he mused, trailing his fingertips along the underwire of your bra.

“How are you—“

Black-red mist enveloped your bra, tickling the skin underneath. It took only a moment for Sylus’s Evol to make quick work of it, the undergarment reduced to black and red specks of dust, leaving your upper half fully exposed.

Sylus’s pupils dilated as his hand gently cupped your breast, and you whimpered when his thumb brushed over your nipple.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “And all mine.”

He was barely touching you yet your core had already gone molten and was beginning to throb with need. You needed more of him, his hands, his lips, his tongue, his co—

A jolt of pleasure shot straight to your core, tearing a loud moan from your lips as Sylus closed his own over your neglected nipple. He continued, tongue laving and teeth biting until he switched to your other breast, giving it an equal amount of attention.

You were panting by the time he lifted his head with a quiet smack of his lips.

But Sylus was far from finished.

He kissed his way up to your neck, where he licked and sucked at your sensitive skin. You wanted to touch him, thread your fingers through his hair but he still had your wrists pinned firmly above your head with seemingly no intention of releasing them.

You cried out, your back arching as Sylus sunk his teeth into your neck.

“This mark is different,” he breathed, lapping his tongue over it to soothe the sting. “This time, I want to count how many times I can make you come before it fades.”

“Fuck Sy,” you groaned.

He trailed down again until he reached the waistband of your pants. He looked at you, one brow raised, silently asking for your consent. You nodded, straining against his hold on your wrists, desperate to bury your hands in his hair.

You nearly cried with relief when he finally removed his hand, only to have your wrists bound by his Evol instead.

“Sylus,” you whined.

He chuckled. “Be a good girl and let me have my fun first,” he said. “You’re the one who asked me to make you feel good.”

“Then stop teasing me already!”

“Mmm, very well.”

Sylus yanked off your pants, leaving you in just your underwear, which were soaked through by this point. He made quick work taking them off as well, groaning at the sight of you finally naked before him.

“So, so beautiful,” he murmured reverently as he reached out, brushing his thumb over your clit. Your hips bucked at the contact, and it was all the reaction Sylus needed before descending on you like a man starved.

Spreading your legs wide, Sylus licked your slick entrance, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue. Your back bowed off the bed, crying out in pleasure as he focused his efforts on your throbbing clit. He slung an arm across your waist and pushed you back down, keeping you locked in place, unable to escape the pleasure he was so eager to give you.

His unoccupied hand ghosted along your inner thigh, growing closer and closer to where his mouth was, until he reached your entrance and slipped a finger inside.

You moaned. “Please Sy,” you begged him. “Please let me touch you.”

Without parting from your core, Sylus’s Evol dissipated from your wrists, freeing you at last. Your hands immediately went to his head, burying your fingers in his hair.

Release tingled down your spine, the tension poised to snap. When Sylus added a second finger he nearly undid you then and there.

You grip his hair harder, moving your hips as much as his iron grip would allow, riding his face.

“Sylus,” you panted. “Sylus I’m gonna—ah.”

“Go ahead, sweetie,” Sylus said gruffly. “Come for me.”

And you did, the tension exploding as you came all over his mouth and fingers. He continued to lick and suck, his fingers pumping in and out while you rode out your high, stopping only when your body went limp beneath him.

“That’s one,” Sylus said proudly, straightening as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You stared at the slick covering his fingers, transfixed by the way it shined in the light. Sylus noticed.

“Want a taste for yourself?” he asked.

Heat flooded your cheeks but when your eyes met his, you nodded.

“Open,” he commanded. You obeyed and Sylus slid his fingers inside your mouth. When you closed your lips around them he said, “Now suck.”

You couldn’t feel any embarrassment you were so turned on, tasting yourself as you licked and sucked Sylus’s fingers clean.

“Good girl,” Sylus purred as his withdrew his fingers. “Would you like to uphold your end of our deal now?”

You pounced on him, almost knocking you both off the bed. You tore at Sylus’s shirt, bunching it up over his torso before ripping it off his head. Without stopping to admire his physique, you rose on your knees, positioned on either side of his legs, and unbuckled his belt. The bulge in his pants made your mouth water and you wanted nothing more than to wrap your hands around his cock and wring as much pleasure out from him as he did you.

“Lift your hips,” you told Sylus.

He raised them, his chest heaving with anticipation as he watched you. You hurriedly popped the button and pulled the zipper down, then with all your might, grabbed the waistband of his pants and underwear and yanked.

Sylus’s hard cock slapped against his abdomen and you nearly abandoned undressing him at the sight of it. He was long and thick, precum leaking from his slit and onto his stomach. You wanted to touch it, taste it, feel it inside of you.

“Don’t stop now, kitten,” Sylus encouraged, his voice breathless. “You can’t leave my pants like this.”

You blinked, realizing you’d be staring at his cock, hands still gripped tight on his pants, which were only halfway down his thighs. You mumbled an apology and managed to finish stripping him, tossing his clothes aside onto the floor somewhere.

Sylus groaned as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. “Kitten,” he panted. You dragged your hand up his length, gathering the precum at the tip before running it back down. “Hah—ah, that feels so good.”

But Sylus grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

You pouted. “I want to make you feel good too.”

He smirked. “You can do that some other time, right now, I need to be inside you.”

Sylus sat up, putting you at eye level.

Your breath caught. He was so beautiful, with his sharp, chiseled features, but what really took your breath away was the look in his eyes. He looked at you like you held his entire world in your hands. Like you were the only light shining in a life otherwise shrouded in darkness. You loved this man, and it was so heart achingly clear he loved you too.

Sylus cupped your cheek and ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

“I’ve never been so sure about anything before,” you answered him with a smile. “I love you, Sylus.”

He smiled too, a real smile, not anything like his smug ones. “I love you too, Y/N.”

He kissed you, lips pressing softly on yours. It was slow and unhurried, like you had all the time in the world to just enjoy each other. Even when your tongues met, you didn’t rush, Sylus gently pushing you down onto the mattress.

He drew back when his cock teased your entrance. “I’m going to go slow, okay? If it hurts or you need me to stop, just let me know.”

Your hands flew up to his face. “Sylus wait.”

He didn’t move a muscle.

“You said I could see your horns.”

Sylus faltered. “Sweetie, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

You shook your head. “No, I want to see them, Sy, and your wings and tail. I said I wanted all of you and I meant all of you.”

Sylus’s heart thundered in his chest, unsure whether to give in to your demands. He was sure if he protested further, he’d be able to convince you to drop it for now. In truth, though, he was nervous. Yes you had remembered your past together but you’d never seen him in his dragon form in this life. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you. He’d never recover if you saw him as the monster he truly was, you were the only one who loved him despite that very fact.

“Sylus.”

Hearing his own name tore him from his thoughts, his gaze fixing on your face.

“I love you now just as much as I did then, dragon and all,” you said firmly. “Please, I want you to be able to be yourself with me.”

Sylus hung his head and sighed, resigning to your demands. “Fine, but no wings, they’re too big for the bed.”

“Okay, I can live with that.”

Sylus huffed and brought his lips back to yours. As you kissed, black-red mist swirled at the top of Sylus’s head and at the base of his spine, revealing his scaled, black horns and tail.

He held his breath as he parted from you, bracing himself for your reaction. But when you opened your eyes, they were not filled with fear. They were filled with awe.

You lifted a hand and brushed the bottom of one of Sylus’s horns. He shivered at your touch, his tail swishing back and forth behind him.

“Are they sensitive?” you asked, ghosting your fingers up the length.

“Yes,” Sylus breathed.

You hummed thoughtfully as you angled your head, peering at his tail, then looking back at him. “You really are beautiful, Sy.”

He swallowed against the lump in his throat, moved far more than he could ever express with words that you found him beautiful, even like this.

“May I continue now?” he asked, deflecting with his usual arrogance.

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Please.”

Sylus almost lost his self control at the relief that flooded through him. His cock was throbbing so hard it was painful, and the only way he could soothe it was to be buried deep inside your cunt.

Tail thrashing wildly, Sylus repositioned the head of his cock at your entrance, somehow even more soaked now than before. Coating himself first, he then began pushing past your folds.

You inhaled sharply at the burn as your walls stretched to accommodate his size.

“Relax, my love,” Sylus soothed, one hand trailing down toward your core. He gently circled your clit, encouraging your body to relax.

You whimpered, clenching around the head of his cock, desperate for him to fill you more despite the pain.

Taking his time, Sylus rocked his hips slowly, easing into you inch by inch all while rubbing your clit to keep you loose. By the time he bottomed out, the pain you’d felt had been long replaced by the pure pleasure of being filled with his cock.

Sylus trembled with the restraint it took to not start pounding into you, wanting your first time to be more loving and tender. There was plenty of time to take you hard and rough.

“I’m going to move now, okay?” he warned, breathing heavily.

“Yes, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He groaned and rocked his hips until just his tip was left inside you, before sliding back in. You both moaned as Sylus began thrusting in earnest, his pace slow and steady.

“You feel so good, Y/N,” Sylus panted. “Just like I remember.”

You were unable to respond, too consumed by the way he moved inside you, his cock hitting you in all the right places.

As though it had a mind of its own, Sylus’s tail snaked around one of your legs, keeping it locked to his waist.

Tension building already, your nails dug into Sylus’s back as each thrust brought you closer and closer to the edge. Sylus could fell your walls fluttering around his cock, and while he wanted nothing more than to lose himself right along with you, he was determined to rip as many orgasms out of you as he could.

He picked up the pace slightly and you responded in kind, tightening your grip on him as you cried out.

“Sylus, oh fuck, don’t stop, please please please don’t stop.”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He captured your lips in an impassioned kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you moaned. One hand cupped a breast, his fingers teasing your nipple before moving on the other.

His touch, his kiss, his cock, it was all too much.

Your back arched as you came, waves of pleasure washing over your body again and again with seemingly no end. Sylus kept moving through it, pausing when you finally slumped into the bed.

“That’s two, but we’re not finished yet, kitten,” Sylus growled.

You hardly registered his words before he was flipping you onto your stomach, a shocked oof breezing past your parted lips. He dragged your hips up so your ass was in the air, sliding his cock back into your cunt with ease. His tail slid along your ribs, then across your breasts, the hard scales rubbing on your sensitive nipples, and it pulled you flush to Sylus’s chest. On instinct, you reached back and grabbed onto both of his horns. The groan he let out was purely animalistic.

“You better hold on tight,” he whispered in your ear, the only warning you got before his cock started slamming into you.

You moaned at the delicious new angle, your body already working toward another orgasm. Admittedly, you’d been a bit nervous that Sylus was relying solely on memory from another lifetime in order to please you, and truly you would’ve been happy with whatever he’d be able to give you. But this? This was not at all what you expected.

“I won’t last much longer, kitten,” Sylus warned, his thrusts growing sloppy, “and I fully intend on bringing you with me.”

His hand slid down your abdomen, two fingers finding your clit and rubbing in quick, tight circles.

Your cunt clenched hard around his cock as you pulled on his horns, your mouth popping open in a silent cry. Sylus groaned, doubling his efforts both with his cock and his fingers.

“Sylus!” you yelled, body tensing. “Sylus, oh please.”

“Give me one more, Y/N,” he muttered. “Be a good girl and give me one more.”

Your climax slammed into you, your vision going white as the pleasure rocked your body harder than the last two. It drove Sylus straight off the cliff edge, chasing his high right alongside you, filling your cunt to the brim.

When you were both spent, Sylus collapsed on top of you, but you were too fucked out of your mind to care about his weight crushing you.

He didn’t linger on you too long though, rolling over onto his side, taking you with him as his tail was still wound around your breasts. He peppered kisses on your neck and shoulder, making you smile.

You twisted in his hold to face him, placing a chaste kiss of your own right on his lips. “I love you, Sy,” you murmured.

“I love you too, sweetie,” he replied quietly.

“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?” you asked, the picture of innocence.

Sylus scoffed. “I was under the impression I was much more than just your boyfriend.”

“You are, but I can’t introduce you to people as my soul-bound lover,” you protested. “We need a socially acceptable label, Sy.”

“You want to introduce me to all your little Hunter friends?”

“Yeah, as my small-business-owner-slash-fruit-stall-vendor boyfriend, Skye!”

He gave you an incredulous look, as if he couldn’t believe you were having this conversation right now. But, he’d never deny you anything. “Fine, I’ll be your boyfriend as long as you get to be my girlfriend.”

“You have to ask me first.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You have to ask me to be your girlfriend first.”

Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Y/N, my love, will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

You grinned and smacked your lips against his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Little did you know that Sylus had much bigger plans in mind than you being just his girlfriend. Fiancé was good, but wife was even better. You know, for the sake of socially acceptable labels, of course.

#love and deepspace #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus smut #lads smut

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chaos-in-deepspace · 2 months ago

Text

LADS Sylus: Highest Bidder | NSFW

Me? Writing Top Sylus content? It's more likely than you think.

❧ Pairings: Sylus x Reader ❧ Warnings: Oral Sex, Top Sylus, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Creampie, Semi-Public Sex ❧ Synopsis: The Hunter's Association had gotten a tip that an auction in the N109 Zone might have an aethercore piece being sold. Thankfully you had Sylus to help you get inside, however it didn't stop you from become stressed. Sylus had a pretty good idea on how to calm you down. ❧ Word Count: 7.5k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Sylus

Highest Bidder

It was odd being so high above everyone else as you peered down at the auction happening below. The crowd was silent for the most part, other than when the auctioneer would be calling out bids. People raised their numbers as they tried to get the coveted items they were selling. They all looked so small from your current perch. It was the ‘Crow’s Nest’ seating that you were in, a spacious booth above the crowd. Your eyes would occasionally glance down at what was happening below, then back over to the room around you. The Crow’s Nest was grander than you would’ve expected, but honestly you should’ve known since it was made specifically for a certain…business owner.

There were two plush sofa chairs with a table in the middle of them. A bottle of wine with the glasses already poured and some hors d’oeuvre to snack on while you watched. The only other person in the booth was Sylus, as you both watched the auction as it came into full swing. All the people below were wearing masquerade masks in order to conceal their identities. There was no need to wear your masks up here, however, as nobody was even able to see you guys. The only people allowed into the booth were Keiran and Luke, anyway, and that was only if they were allowed in since Sylus had a button on his chair that unlocked the door.

The privacy was nice for the most part, but you couldn’t stop the anxious feeling from settling in the pit of your stomach as you continued to watch. You gnawed on your bottom lip, staring down at every protocore that came up between stolen paintings and artifacts. You adjusted the cardigan you wore, the chill from the booth getting to you as you glanced at Sylus. He looked undisturbed as per usual, relaxed in his element as he watched what happened below.

He had only clicked his auction buzzer twice, and only when an antique weapon that he was interested in came on display. He had someone down below who was putting in bids for him; every time the buzzer went off, their only job was to start bidding until they won. It was fascinating to watch, sure, all the people below desperately raising their numbers in order to win the stolen or illegal goods. It was like watching a street market, except the people bidding below were all betting millions on a single item.

It was almost amusing if not for the fact that all these items, under normal circumstances, would’ve been detained due to the illegal nature of this entire situation. The N109 zone was primarily untouched; in fact, the only reason you were here was due to your connections. Captain Jenna didn’t really like sending you straight into the pits of hell, but she knew that, for the most part, you’d be safe since you’d come and gone into the area several times. She never bothered to ask you how or why you were able to come and go as you pleased, and honestly you didn’t want to tell her.

“Sweetie,” Sylus’ voice broke you out of your stupor as you glanced over at him. His ruby red eyes had gone over to rake over your body, seeing how tense you were. It wasn’t something he particularly liked, he had thought the private area would help calm some of your worries, but it seemed nothing would quell the feeling of taking part in something that went against almost all of your morals.

“What?” your tone came out snappier than you had wanted, but you couldn’t help it. You were on edge at the moment, your mission at the forefront of your mind the entire time. Every single protocore that was shown had your heart pounding. The Crow’s Nest was directly above all the items, and though it had a one-way window where nobody could see you guys, you still felt as though all eyes were on you. Most people didn’t even know the booth existed; they wouldn’t know where to look, but their eyes were all focused on the items. Thankfully, due to your proximity, you’d be able to tell if something was amiss and could get the right protocore, but you were still anxious.

“I already told you there won’t be an aethercore at an auction like this one. You can calm down and just enjoy the show.” He tried to reason with you, but you weren’t having it. You knew he was right; he was never wrong about situations like this, but you were still stubborn. Your eyes glanced back over to what was being sold currently, just a basic protocore that he was trying to convince the audience was worth something. Another thing you hated about this auction…they were trying to rip people off. Not that you could really be upset due to the people who were trying to buy it, but it did leave a bad taste in your mouth.

“The association sent me here for a reason, Sylus.” You explained as you took your glass of wine and took a sip, “There’s something going on here, at the very least.” It might not be the aethercore that you were needing, but there was a reason the association was involved. The contents of the auction were always kept secret, even to the people attending, but they had gotten a tip. While your Captain did inform you that the chances were low, you’d still need to keep an eye out for a fragment being sold here. Most likely it was just a bunch of higher end protocores, something the association would still be wanting. For all you knew, they were already aware of the situation but sent you here anyway so you could collect the items and make sure they didn’t wind up in the hands of someone that really shouldn’t own such items.

You heard Sylus scoff from next to you, rolling his eyes a bit, “Ah yes, the association, the same one that couldn’t even get you a place at the auction.” Sylus said with a smirk, “The all-powerful association that had so little knowledge they didn’t know how to get an invite.” You sometimes hated how he mocked the association but you had to admit that, in this case, it was true. There was a reason you were with Sylus at the moment. You had needed an in to the auction, and you knew if anything was happening in the N109 Zone, Sylus would be able to get there. The fact that this private booth was reserved only for him was telling enough that he went to these often. Your bosses had literally just told you to find your way into this high profile auction, but they didn’t provide the means. If you didn’t have Sylus with you, you’d most likely be screwed out of luck.

You took another sip of the sweeter wine and slumped into your chair in defeat. Your free hand went down to your dress to help push it down as it rode up your thighs, the silky fabric brushing against your skin with the motion. The expensive clothes that Sylus had gotten for you were nice, sure, but a little more revealing than you would’ve liked. He had offered to get it re-tailored before the event to make it more comfortable, but you had opted out of it. It would’ve taken too long, and you didn’t have the time to get measured properly for it. Besides, he was the only one really seeing you in it anyway. You had been escorted through a private hallway here and barely came into contact with anyone else so far. You’d be taking the same exit, and if anything maybe Luke and Keiran would see you, but with how Sylus walked besides you, his body towering over you, it concealed your body pretty well.

“You’re more anxious than you usually are at these kinds of…events. Tell me what’s on your mind.” His eyes were now locked onto you, the way your shoulders were still tensed up, how your heel was clicking on the floor as you tapped your foot there. His tone showed concern, as well as the way his normal smirk turned into a frown as he looked at you. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly as if he were trying to get into your mind without using his evol.

You cleared your throat, “It’s just…I’m used to my earpiece on missions. It’s strange for me not to hear orders while at something like this; I feel like I’m going into everything blind,” You finally admitted. Your hand went to the earpiece that should’ve been working, but nobody had warned you this auction house has a jammer somewhere in it. Any electronic devices, including phones, cameras, microphones, and earpieces were useless in these walls. You had lost contact with the association the moment you stepped inside. Sylus hadn’t mentioned it because, in all honesty, it wasn’t something he ever thought about. When he came to these auctions he never brought anything with him anyway, just himself and his weapons, alongside his guards. He had no need for playing on his phone, and even if he did his phone wouldn’t be effected by a jammer like this one.

You took out the earpiece and placed it on the table; just feeling it without being able to hear anything was making the anxiety worse for you. Sylus watched this movement curiously. The small earring-looking device hadn’t even gone with your outfit in the first place, and he had warned you someone might suspect the true nature of it, but you ignored it. Now, it didn’t even matter as you rested your cheek on your first, watching the auction while your hand tapped on the other arm of the chair.

“You don’t need a device like that; I already told you I’d help you out. You need to learn to trust me a little more.” Sylus said, and while his tone came off as flirtatious, there was almost a bit of hurt in there. You had Sylus had essentially gone through hell and back at this point, and while you trusted him with your life, you couldn’t stop the nagging voice in your head telling you that he might betray you one of these days. You knew it was unreasonable, but it was still there, a constant that you tried to quell. His actions and words were always straightforward, and he protected you every time you were together. Even when you were away, you had no reason to doubt him.

“I know, Sy, I know.” You said with a sigh; you turned to him with a small smile, “You know I trust you, but I can’t stop worrying still.” The moment you said that, you could see him visibly relaxing. You had the big, strong leader of Onychinus under your finger, and it seemed that he would sometimes get worried and need words of reassurance from you. It made you feel a bit giddy to know the effect you had on him, even if this time it was about his concern for you and not something else. “Besides, there’s gotta be something important here.” You insisted.

“There really isn’t. I’ve seen at least two protocores that definitely aren’t as special as they say they are.” Sylus said, “But we can stay until the end to make sure if that’s what you need.” He assured you, making sure you knew that he wasn’t about to just get up and leave because he had grown tired. Besides, there might still be a handful of items he’d be wanting from here.

“Thank you,” you finally said with a small huff. You watched Sylus stood up, his towering form looking down at the auction, then back at you, “Were you going somewhere…?” you asked, not understanding why he was now standing. He was imposing, that was for sure, and the way he looked down at what was happening was almost like he was judging each and every single face down below. When his eyes locked back onto you, you shivered. His eyes glancing over your body then back over to your face and you heard the way his shoes clicked against the ground underneath him.

He took quick strides over to you and you watched as he crouched down on his knees; your eyes widened for a moment at the action. Even while kneeling, he was still big; he was almost at your level right now, only a hair shorter. His hands went over to your knees, gently caressing the skin there as he locked his gaze with your own. Your heart sped up at the position he was in, your mind going into the gutter immediately with how he looked at the moment. You were half expecting him to just rest his cheek on one of your thighs at this point, his eyes filled with longing that had your heart in your throat.

“What are you doing?” you voice wavered as you spoke, you shivered as his large hand trailed up the side slit of the dress you wore. His touch was warm, almost scorching, as he played with the garter on your thigh that held your gun. He slowly took the weapon off and placed it on the table next to you, making sure it was still within your reach so you didn’t have to freak out about now having it. The small, subtle gesture was sweet, a small reminder of just how well Sylus knew you.

“You seemed stressed, so I thought I might help you get your mind off things.” He said, pushing both his hands under the hem of your dress as he worked on moving it up your thighs. The dress was short, so it didn’t take much to reveal the lacy, black underwear you had put on. His hand trailed down the front, noticing that it had already started to get wet just from the way he was looking at you. You flushed, knowing that he always affected you so much that you got wet the moment his eyes were on you. Honestly the car ride here had been the thing to rile you up, the way he had his hand on your thigh the entire drive, always glancing back over at you. It was the smallest touch, but it was enough to drive you absolutely wild with need. You always wanted him to be touching you more.

You felt as Sylus’ hands spread your thighs apart and he placed a kiss on the inner section of it; the searing feeling of his lips sent a shiver down your spine as he pressed another, then allowed his teeth to graze over it as he gently nipped. It was clear what he had in mind as he went to remove your underwear, gingerly taking them off from your waist and down the expanse of your thighs and calves. Once they were off, he placed them in his pocket; whether to give them back to you or to keep them, you didn’t know.

The cold hit you immediately as you had one less piece of fabric over your most sensitive area, “So this is how you plan on helping me?” You managed to not stutter as you spoke, your gaze watching as he hooked your legs over his shoulders. You were parted for him, and he could see everything. Despite all that, he was looking up at your face. You already had a gentle blush on your cheeks as you stared at him, biting down a little on your lower lip as you watched what he’d be doing. He showed you a rare, sincere smile this time around, his lips finding your thigh again and giving it a slow kiss, wanting to see the way your breath hitched.

“I’ll stop if it makes you uncomfortable.” There was your out if you needed it; it was a courtesy he always gave you any time he was planning on doing something with you. He always made sure you were okay with the situation, never just assuming because your body reacted that you were wanting this. You don’t think you’ve ever actually told him no, so the fact that he still asked was cute, and you’d always appreciate it.

“I…didn’t say that.” You finally managed to get out after a pause. Your thighs spread a little more for him, an invitation that he would gladly be taking. He went into his pocket and pulled out a buzzer, handing it to you. Your fingers smoothed over the device; it only had a single button on it, and it fits perfectly in the palm of your hand. You flipped it over in your hands and then looked at him curiously, wondering why he had given it to you.

“If you see something down there that you like, go ahead and press the button.” He explained, and before you could respond, his tongue was suddenly on you. He licked up your parted lips, his tongue trailing over it and collecting your slick on it. He groaned at the taste, something that he swore he could never get enough of. The last time you asked him what you tasted like, he showed you, grabbing your chin and kissing you breathlessly. You didn’t entirely understand why he loved the taste so much, but when it was mixed with his kisses, you could see where he was coming from.

It was intoxicating with how he had so easily made you putty in his hands, his tongue trailing through the wetness, just taking his time to simply taste you. Sylus was never one to waste time when it came to eating you out; but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t be going slow so he could savor it. Not that it ever mattered, he knew exactly what you liked, so when he was ready he would go all in and make you cum. His tongue delved into your slick walls while his thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing gentle circles on it that almost had you keening. Your thighs twitched slightly as you bit back a loud moan; he told you this booth was soundproof, but you didn’t want to put it to the test. Not that it would’ve mattered; the sound of his tongue against you and the way he was lapping at your essence was so loud it felt deafening.

You already found yourself panting, the familiar tension in your stomach slowly forming as he continued. His mouth soon replaced his thumb, sucking at the sensitive numb, and you felt the way his teeth gently nipped at the hood there, causing you to flinch with a small hiss leaving you. It felt a little painful, but he licked at it as if apologizing. His eyes went up to your face though, amused by your reaction and you had a feeling he might do it again if you weren’t careful. You knew you had to focus on the auction below; it was the entire reason you were here, but feeling his mouth on you was making your head go fuzzy as all thoughts went down to your cunt.

Your eyes glanced down to the auction, seeing them bringing out another protocore. When they unveiled it, you could see it was different from the others; the energy coming off it was stronger than the others. Even when feeling almost fucked out, you had enough sense you know you should get it. Your fingers hit down on the buzzer as Sylus took your clit back into his mouth and sucked hard, causing you to almost drop the remote. Your hips tried to roll into his mouth, wanting more from him, but before you could really do anything the suctioning feeling stopped.

You let out a whine as Sylus took his mouth off you, giving another lick and then looking up at you, “Found something you like?” he asked, nuzzling against your thigh as he bit down on it. Another hiss left you at the rough treatment, knowing that this bite mark would definitely be leaving a mark. He groaned as your thighs squeezing around his neck a little bit in retaliation. How could he be asking you a question when you were already starting to get so close? It was almost like he was attempting to edge you, though very subtly. He knew it too if the look he was giving you was anything to go off of.

“Shut up and keep going…” you groaned, your free hand going into his hair and trying to drag him back. He allowed it, his mouth finding your folds against it as his tongue explored the slick area, trailing the wet muscle along it and pressing it inside of you. You groaned and watched as someone tried to put in a different bid, “H-hey, so I need to keep pressing this button or…?” you suddenly asked, realizing you didn’t know exactly how this buzzer worked. You waited a moment for Sylus’ to tell you, and when you heard nothing you finally looked back down at him between your legs.

Sylus didn’t bother giving you a response. Instead, he hummed as he went to use his tongue to swirl it around your clit. One of his hands finally came into play as he pressed a finger into your gummy walls, crooking it upwards as he searched for that bundle of nerves inside of your cunt. His silence was almost annoying; you knew he heard you, but because of your comment earlier, he wasn’t responding. You huffed as your hands balled into his hair and tugged him back off your pussy, his chin now completely slick as he licked the wetness on his lips, “Answer me.” You huffed, noticing his smirk. He was being cheeky right now as he continued to pump his finger inside of you, making you temporarily lose focus from the feeling as you fought hard to give him a glare.

“You said to keep quiet.” He reminded you; you felt him pressing a second finger inside of you, causing you to let out a moan. The way he stretched out your walls was driving you insane as your hips rolled up into his hand, trying to fuck yourself on his digits, “Are you upset I’m listening to you?” his fingers parted inside, scissoring them as he worked you open. You weren’t sure if he was intending to fuck you, but like hell you’d complain about being filled like this.

You pinched your eyebrows together at noticing how he was trying to distract you now, “Fine, speak when spoken to then.” You huffed, deciding to change your demands of him. His lips turned into a smirk as he let out a hum, smacking his lips slightly as he looked off behind him at the auction. They were still trying to sell the protocore you had put a bid on, as clearly, other people were able to notice the value of it. People kept putting higher and higher bids for it, the amounts they raised went beyond anything you’d probably ever make in your lifetime.

“You only need to press it once, kitten; my associate will make sure it’s secured.” He explained; the moment the words left him, you were pushing him back down. Your straightforward nature always came out when it came to him. You groaned when he began sucking at your clit again, his fingers now working to bring you to completion as soon as possible. He could feel how tense your thighs were around his shoulders, the small twitches you let, and how your hips were trying to move closer to ride his face now.

He groaned against you, feeling how your walls were practically trying to suck his fingers into you now. You were so close as you brought your hand that held the buzzer up to your mouth, biting down on your fingers as you tried holding in all your noises. You could hear the sound of the auction faintly through the blood pounding in your ears as you got closer, the tension in you about to snap. Sylus could sense it as he doubled his efforts, the loud slurping noises was lewd and made you whine as he used everything at his disposal to completely ruin you.

You heard the words ‘sold’ briefly, but at that point, you couldn’t notice anything else. Who it was sold to, what price, nothing matter as you came. Your walls clenched down on Sylus’ fingers, and you could hear the more of those noises as Sylus licked up at your release, relishing in the taste of you on his tongue. Your thighs squeezed together, and your eyes pinched closed as you finally let out a moan while throwing your head back onto the sofa behind you. Your hips rolling up to ride Sylus’ face as you rode out your orgasm, and Sylus was more than happy to allow you the moment as he worked you through it.

You were gasping, your legs twitching in the aftershocks as you felt the flat of Sylus’ tongue gently licking at you. He took his fingers out of you once he noticed you were coming back down, but you then felt the wetness of them on your thigh as he held them apart so you couldn’t accidentally snap his neck while squeezing around it. When Sylus watched you flinch away from his tongue, he finally stopped, sitting back as he let your legs fall back to the floor. His free hand went to wipe some of the slickness from your release off his chin, pressing the finger into his mouth to collect the last drops from you.

A slight whine left from the back of your throat as you no longer had contact with Sylus, and he seemed to notice the dilemma as he placed his hand back onto your leg, his thumb rubbing circles on it to help relax you. You tried to clear your throat, your entire face bright red as you realized what you had done, but it only served to amuse Sylus even further. You were about to say something to help cover up the the needy noise that had left you, but Sylus had already beat you to it.

“Did you want more?” he asked, noticing how you were now avoiding eye contact. The words struck you as you looked back at him, the need to feel him inside of you increasing. You knew logically this wasn’t the place to be fucked; hell, even this was a bit much. You could still see the crowd behind Sylus as a new item was brought out, and you closed your legs as you thought about any of them seeing you like this, “Don’t worry, kitten, they don’t even know you’re here.” He said, his words coming out gentler.

“I…it’s still strange.” You admitted; the thought of an audience had never been something you’d think you were into, yet a part of you was still wanting to fuck Sylus. Having everyone below, completely ignorant as to what was going on right above the auction, was making you grow needier, arousal already making you throb. You had already gone this far, and he was right. It’s not like they’d know he was fucking you dumb up in this booth, it would be a secret shared between you two. Still…

“So, kitten, did you want to stop here or continue?” Sylus asked, his thumb still pressing gently into your thigh to help calm you down. You took a final glance at the crowd, then back at Sylus and nodded, “Words, sweetie, I need to hear them.” He said, his voice coming off a little like scolding, but you knew it was all in good nature.

“Yes, I want more.” You said, knowing he wouldn’t do anything until he had verbal consent, “I really want more.” You clarified, your legs now opening a bit to show him your slick cunt. You were dripping onto the chair underneath you, something that would normally leave you embarrassed, but the way that Sylus’ eyes seemed to darken had you feeling proud instead. He looked like he wanted to devour you all over again, and while you would be fine to let him, you really wanted to feel something with more girth pressed inside of you right now.

“If that’s what you want, sweetie, but don’t forget about the auction.” He said, his tone now teasing, “It’s the entire reason we’re here, after all.” Your eyes glanced at the thing being sold right now. It was just a painting, one that seemed oddly familiar to you, but you didn’t feel like thinking too hard about that right now. Instead, you just clicked the buzzer, knowing that any money spent tonight was on Sylus’ dime. He actually huffed at that, knowing that you didn’t actually need the item. It’s not like he could get mad, he did say you could purchase anything you wanted from it, and it’s not like he didn’t have the money to spoil you. He just knew you were attempting to get a rise out of him, and honestly you would need to try harder if you wanted to see that.

“Cheeky.” He muttered, and you watched him as he began working on his belt, slowly undoing the buckle so he could push it down his thighs. You watched with interest the way his hands easily undid the front of his pants. He was wearing those leather pants of his, the one with the zipper that was in a square formation. You had at one point made fun of him for the style, but after he had shown you how easy access he had with it, you stopped the teasing. He had shown to you the benefits of it, and now every time he wore those pants all you could imagine was him fucking you in them, or getting on your knees and sucking him off so you could be the one hearing his needy noises.

You could see the clear bulge in his briefs, as well as the small wet spot at the front of the gray fabric. Just eating you out had done this to him, and you felt yourself smirk as you looked down at him. He was hooking his fingers in the waistband, about to pull it down, when your heeled foot came to rest on top of it. You pressed down, feeling how it twitched under your shoe, and Sylus hissed. You pressed the tip of it right where the wet spot was, watching as he shuddered at the sensation.

He grabbed onto your ankle, his eyes slowly trailing up your leg and to your face, “Really, sweetie?” He asked, pressing your foot closer, and ground down against it, “Is this what you wanted to do to me? I thought you’d want something more.” He let out another groan as you pressed your shoe harder against his erection. He bit down on his lower lip; his grip on your ankle wasn’t tight by any means, but it was now there to stop you from doing anything else to him. You laughed at him, wanting to see how far you could push this, and while the thought of making him cum in his pants using just your heel was nice, you really didn’t want to wait the few minutes it would take for him to get hard again.

“I do want more, but you’re taking too long.” You tone coming off a bit brattier, and you were smirking as you saw how he was reacting. It was sometimes too easy to pull this man apart for you; of course, this side of him was only for your eyes to see. You slowly let off the pressure with your heel, watching as his grip loosened until he was dropping your ankle, “Maybe some other time I’ll watch you get off on my heel, though.” You were certain if you had been at home he’d already be on you at this point, making you a mess, but he was holding himself back right now. You were almost regretful you didn’t have a mattress right now, sometimes you just wanted to brat and be roughed up a bit, but he was very particular in the areas he’d do that in.

“Is that so?” he asked, “I think I’ve given you too much grace when it comes to that attitude of yours.” He was now pulling down his briefs, his leaking cock now standing against his stomach. The tip of it looked red, and you wondered just how long he had been hard. He hadn’t shown any signs of it while his mouth was on you, but then again, he was the depiction of self-control when needed. He noticed how you were staring at him, and you could see it twitching again under your gaze.

You watched as Sylus rose to his full height, glancing down at you as he debated just how he’d want to take you. He was thinking about how to give you a clear view of the auction below when he got an idea. He placed his hands underneath your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the chair, “Hold on,” he said, watching as you placed your arms around his shoulders. It was easy for him to lift you in one fluid motion, your legs wrapped around his torso as he hoisted you up into his arms. The ease of it you wanting to squeal, you absolutely loved when he picked you up like this. You had once tried picking him up as well, but he had been a bit too tall and, while he was amused, told you perhaps if was best if you left the carrying to him next time.

Thankfully from your new perch, you could see everything going on from over his shoulder, and you leaned down to press a quick kiss on his cheek as a reward for his thoughtfulness. He chuckled at the action, looking over at how your gaze was now down below once again, watching as they brought out the next item to be auctioned. The buzzer in your hand was still in your hand, held with a loose grip as you toyed with it, waiting to see what was coming up. You then felt Sylus take one hand off you, and before you could ask, you felt him tapping his cock against your clit.

A small gasp escaped you as you looked down at him. You felt the head of him slipping inside of your walls, a small groan leaving you at the stretch of him. While he had done a good job prepping you, he was still thick, and you could feel the subtle burn from the stretch as he slowly slid into you, inch by inch. Once you were halfway onto his cock, his hands moved, cupping you right underneath the ass as he sank you down further. His breathing got a bit heavier once you felt yourself become flush against his body, his twitching member now fully nestled inside your cunt, “You always feel so wonderful, kitten.” The compliment sent a shiver down your back as you squeezed around him.

“I could say the same for you.” You said, loving how you felt with him all the way in you. You felt full like this, his cock able to reach everything inside of you. As long as he was gentle, you’d be able to walk out of here. You realized now that was probably why he wasn’t playing into your bratting this evening.

With his current grasp on you, Sylus began moving you along his shaft. Feeling how your warm walls sucked him in was driving him mad, and he had only just begun. You bit down on your lip again; the sensation of his thick cock inside of you made you grip him tighter as your legs properly locked onto him. He groaned when he felt one of your hands going into his hair, tugging him enough to have his head snapping back.

Your lips met his quickly, licking at how lower lip until he opened up and allowed you entrance. The taste of yourself was still on his tongue, and you groaned, your hand sliding from his hair to his cheek as you delved in. Sylus’ tongue pressed into your own mouth, grazing over the roof of it, and he drank in the small moans as he began fucking up into you faster. His cock brushed against that soft spot inside of you that had you gripping onto the buzzer so tightly you were afraid you’d be breaking it if this kept up.

When you broke from the kiss, you stared into his eyes, his pupils taking up some of the red now as he stared back at you. His eyes were lidded, and there was a small flush on his face as his mouth hung open, letting out small grunts as your pussy slid on his cock repeatedly. His grip on your ass was tighter, squeezing the plush skin there to the point there might be bruises blooming there tomorrow morning. You didn’t seem to care as you pressed your forehead against his own, closing your eyes and sinking into the feeling of him, the way the texture of his veins drove you insane, and you felt every twitch of him inside of you. If you could, you’d stay on his dick forever.

“Sweetie, the auction.” Sylus reminded you, knowing you’d be upset if you missed out on something. You let out a groan, opening your eyes to look behind you. A whimper escaped you as you looked out at the crowd. You knew logically they couldn’t see you, but at this point, all reasoning was gone as you looked at them all. The auctioneer unveiled another protocore, and you didn’t even bother looking at it. You just hit the button, and right as you did, the tip of Sylus’ cock directly hit your g-spot as you gasped.

The buzzer slipped from your hand, clattering down onto the floor below as your hands went to clutch down on his jacket. You grasped onto Sylus’ shoulder, pressing your face into his neck as you pressed small kisses there. Your eyes tried to avoid the audience below as you tried to just focus on Sylus, “There we go,” he said, moving you away from the window. You felt him shifting, and then he was sitting down in his own chair, your back now facing away from the auction, “Just focus on me, my love.” He said, still using his grasp to guide you on his dick. You shivered at this new position, feeling him a bit better from your new angle.

You surged forward again, locking your lips with his own as you kissed him, that familiar feeling of your impending orgasm almost there. Your hand went down to your front, playing with your clit to help you over the edge. You heard Sylus saying something, but you couldn’t hear him anymore. Not as you clenched down on his length, your pussy like a vice that was so tight he had trouble moving inside of you for a moment. He groaned, feeling your shaking body on top of his own as your hips moved to try and ride him for a moment.

You let out small whines as you came, the little moans escaping your lips as your vision blurred for a moment, closing your eyes so you could ground yourself. You didn’t even know Sylus was close until you heard him groan, slamming you down roughly onto his lap and holding you there. He ground up into you a few times, and you felt his release as it dripped out of you and onto his lap. He stilled inside of you after a moment, allowing you both to calm down your breathing. Your chest heaved with every breath as you pressed your forehead against his own, finally opening your eyes to see him staring up at you.

He held you close, his grasp on you secure as he spoke, “Feeling better?” he finally asked, one of his hands going to rub at your back, pushing the fabric of your dress up a bit higher now. You had a love drunk giggle escape you, and the noise melodic to Sylus’ ears. Your entire body felt like jelly as you slumped against him. You readjusted yourself until your head was on his chest, your cheek pressed against there as you listened to his heartbeat. It was always going so fast, but right now, it almost sounded like there was an engine inside of him. You wondered briefly if you could count the beats, but realized that the blood was still pounding a bit in your own ears and muddling up your senses.

“Ya, I feel better…kinda tired.” You murmured after realizing you had left him hanging; all the stress from before was gone and was replaced with the need to sleep. It always happened after a few rounds with Sylus, and now wasn’t any different. You were just wanting to cuddle up with him and pass out, but you knew you wouldn’t get to sleep long since the auction was probably going to be ending soon. Perhaps once you were home you’d drag him to bed right away, it would be close enough to the time he normally slept anyway so he shouldn’t have any complaints.

“Oh, and what happened to needing to pay attention to the auction?” he asked, and you didn’t even bother looking back. Not that you wanted to. You were planning on blissfully ignoring the fact that there were eyes down there; while they couldn’t see you, you could see them, and that in itself was nerve-wracking. If you hadn’t been so horny a moment ago, you probably would’ve never let him fuck you in a venue like this, but your lust-driven mind sometimes had you making decisions that weren’t completely like you, and now your tired mind was opting to just ignore everything.

“I trust you to buy anything that you think would be important.” You said with a yawn, nuzzling deeper into his chest. You felt him vibrating underneath you as he laughed, his hand going to adjust your dress and pull the bottom back over your ass. You squirmed at the motion, but instantly felt a bit better now that the breeze wasn’t hitting you. Sylus adjusted his body, taking off his coat next in order to drape it over you for that small layer of extra warmth.

“Would you at least like to get off me and adjust our clothes before you take a nap?” he asked, feeling how you were still around his length. The sensation of him inside of you was oddly calming as you shook your head. You had no intention on leaving your happy place, as long as Sylus was willing to let you stay.

“Nah, I’ll keep you warm. It’s kind of cold in this auction house.” You said, your tone coming off a bit more teasing, and you leaned up quickly to kiss him. He returned the gesture, a content sigh leaving him the moment your lips parted. He had leaned in a bit, wanting to chase your lips, but stopped himself once he noticed how you were working on curling back into his chest.

“Thank you for being so considerate, but if you want to remain on me, then you should be prepared for another round when you wake up, sweetie,” Sylus said, and you smirked. He pulled you a bit closer, and you felt how he shifted inside of you, the twitching of him as he got a bit harder while nestled in your walls.

Despite that, were already starting to drift off, but you couldn’t stop the way your walls fluttered around his shaft in response. He let out a small groan at the sensation while you spoke, “I’m fine with that; it’ll help me fall asleep on your car ride back to base.” You said while placing a hand on his chest, playing with the fabric there as you breathed in a deep sigh. He smelled so nice right now, and you wondered briefly if he had changed his cologne or if it was the fact that his scent was now mixed with some pheromones.

Sylus’ voice broke you out, his chuckle bringing you back to listening to him, “Alright then, sleep well, my love.” His arms squeezed you a little, his fingers splaying out across your clothed back. The motion allowed you to finally relax against him, using his heartbeat to lull you to sleep.

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