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1800titz · 10 months ago

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HI. This is the pornstar!AU (Tiger Harry). Enjoy :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: face-fucking, anal play-ish, Sir kink, general manhandling, light dom-sub dynamics

WC: 8.6K

“Are you open to raw anal?” is probably not a statement Y/N had …entirely expected to hear when she’d agreed to discourse over pastries and dirty chai lattes.

It’s a pretty good one, all things considered, and asked with complete professionalism, according to their careers and the open, apathetically businesslike expression shaping the features of her counterpart. Y/N takes a sip of her latte. It is quite a good latte. He wasn’t wrong there.

Harry blinks.

It’s very on brand, despite the way she’s sure one of the baristas has definitely twisted around from the dishpit, side eye discreet …but there. And in the barista’s defense, she couldn’t even blame her for eavesdropping on the sordid contents of their public discourse. Y/N isn’t going to turn around and look.

In Harry’s, he didn’t exactly shout.

The man across from her takes a slow sip from his latte. Good latte, very good latte.

She can’t help but admire his varying assortment of rings as he cradles the cup, irises winding from the blocky, golden S to its chunky counterpart, the H. So many times she’d admired those hands, those ring-clad fingers traipsing over bare skin, just the tips meddling over abdomens and winding circles around navels. Those digits sunk into the hair of his partner, tangled into the roots as he manually bobs her head over his cock. Those fingers twisting over the pink tip of his shaft, lining it up before his hips pump. Those long fingers splaying over cunts, swiping a thumb to ogle in front of the camera.

There've been so many instances where Y/N had wondered the significance of that H and that S. And it’s been really quite simple all along.

Should I call you Tiger in person, then? she’d tapped out over the LED keyboard, days prior when they’d only been discussing the prospect of a meet up. Days prior, before she’d flown out for an on-camera collaboration, to bask in the sunlight of California, to enjoy overpriced dirty chai lattes and oddly promiscuous dialogue in the corner of a cafe.

I think I’ll just take Harry when the cameras aren’t rolling x, RideTheTiger had messaged back.

Anyways, it’d probably be a sleazy, poorly-executed one liner (and consequently, a horrifically red flag) in possibly every other circumstance, but this isn’t a first date and RideTheTiger has, thus far, been the furthest thing from sleazy. Even paid for her dirty chai latte, practically shouldering her out of the slot at the register. Pulled her chair out for her, asked about her traveling fares prior to delving into said anal topic. It’s all been fairly gentlemanly. Very business-partner-coffee-meeting.

“No condom,” Harry tacks on, like it’s clarification for the raw segment of raw anal, as if it actually needed some sort of clarification.

Y/N takes another sip. Damn good latte.

“I like it,” the young woman tells him, clearing her throat on this edge that implies she’s mindful of her volume. Somehow, even as a freelance pornstar, she still hasn’t quite managed to get over the awkward degree of shame that a public setting incites. “I like the...”

That barista is definitely fucking peering over.

“…The mess,” she settles on, because anal creampie doesn’t feel like a term to be said with her whole chest over a guava pastelito.

For a short moment, Harry just watches her, jade roaming and the corners of his mouth slowing seeping into a simper, like he knows brazenly discussing anal creampies in the middle of a cafe — not quite packed, but still a cafe — has her kind of squirming in her seat. He takes another drink.

“She’s got airpods in,” the man tells her eventually, forest-y irises jolting to something behind her head — the barista that’s clattering about behind the counter. And if she’s listening in, she’s probably going to go home and find one of them online, or ultimately both, and probably subscribe.

The tension in her shoulders melts away the longer he grins at her over the lip of his lid, dimples indented in the flesh beside the upturned edges of his mouth. It’s just what they do for a living. It’s just sex. It’s just talking about the sex they’re going to have on camera.

There’s bells and whistles to it, too, but it beats sitting at home and answering phone calls where angry customers screech all tinny through the headset and don’t comprehend the words, “Sir, if you can’t use your inside voice and talk to me like a civilized human being, I’m not going to be able to resolve your issue.” For Y/N it is. At least she gets a couple of orgasms out of this.

“Sorry,” she tells him, shoulders slumping, “I think I’m still not— I get …weird talking about it in public settings.”

Tiger gives her this careful look over, eyes amused.

“S’okay, I understand. If you’d rather get into the details back at mine, I’m okay with that.”

“No, no,” Y/N protests, motioning out with her free hand, almost like her frigidly humiliated disposition will turn him off from collaboration, “No. It’s just, like. Sex work— it’s— it’s 2024. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Harry blinks. He gives her another one of those slow, knowing grins with his strawberry mouth.

“No, seriously. We can get into the …rough drafting in a more private setting.” And then he takes another casual, horribly nonchalant sip, “I get it.”

The man splays back against the chair, the hand not clutching at his beverage laid against smooth bamboo varnish, the nails there neatly manicured and painted with a soft shade of green lacquer. Y/N wonders what that particular color would look like with a glimmering top coat after he’s sunk the digits in between her thighs. She casts her gaze back up to his face.

“I just figured I’d ask because we exchanged tests last week.”

Clean as a whistle, RideTheTiger, (appropriately renamed in her contacts as Harry Tiger OF collab), had messaged on a Tuesday afternoon. That text was tailed with an HDR attachment of paperwork detailing his clean-as-a-whistle results, for proof. And the polish on his nails, fingertips gripped over the edge of the sheet, had been a pretty sky blue in the picture.

She’d wondered the same thing, then; what OPI’s Rich Girls & Po-boys would look like glazed with a sheen of her slick arousal.

He’s just a fuckable man, Y/N thinks, sat back in his chair like discussing sex work scene scripting is a normal mid-day affair, soft dusting of stubble coating his jaw, curls swept up off his forehead. His white tee shrouds the swallows and the inky butterfly she’s seen flexing over his tummy, the laurels that seep into the deep cut of his v-line, but it does very, very little to hide the artistry that litters his arm.

That same arm she’d seen in videos, wrapped in pumped muscle as his fingers had worked his partner to the brink of bliss at a merciless pace, plush mouth shaping over some sort of filthy croon, dimples indented. Those same hands cradling over his counterpart’s throat with a gentle squeeze, that same thumb swiping messily over his partner’s bottom lip. Those same eyebrows with a crease carved between their furrow, those same curls in sweaty, disheveled disarray from the incessant rake through of his hands as his cock got swallowed up by a pretty, swarthy-skinned brunette, or maybe a blonde. A curl that’d flopped over his forehead in those videos, hardly hiding a rivulet of sweat that’d dripped from his hairline, is neatly tucked back under designer shades, now.

Designer shades he’s bought with his dirty porn money, because despite his spiffy, clean boy, seemingly innocuous demeanor, RideTheTiger is dirty, dirty, dirty.

Because under his warm smiles and his twinkling jade, there’s an alter ego that lives on the internet. One she’s all too familiar with.

It makes her chest sort of flush under her sweater. This is happening. This is going to happen.

The chair creaks a little when he sits up, clearing his throat, “I didn’t want to assume, but. I mean— I’m sure you’ve seen, like, my tips. Is it …odd to say I’m a fan of your content?” his gaze slowly settles from his drink to her face, smooth baritone almost …bashful as plush pink splits into a beam and his words catch on a laugh, “Is that …weird?”

Y/N knows exactly what he’s referring to. They’d been two mutuals subscribed to one another, chunks of profit migrating from inbox to inbox. It’d been like a volley, electric currency bouncing through the expanse of the internet, racket to racket, account back to account, pinging notifications striking on uploads behind paywalls. Only then, Tiger was just a man behind a screen. Tiger wasn’t sitting at a table in front of her, and they weren’t discussing the crude elements of the video they were going to shoot together.

“Not at all,” Y/N clears her throat and pairs it with a side-to-side shake of her head.

She’ll never admit that she’d touched herself to the solo session that’d popped up in her DM’s behind a paywall only last week, an automated promotion sent out to all subscribers. The one where he’d been sat in one of those lush, swivel-y chairs in front of his computer, firm thighs splayed and ringed hand tugging over his leaky cock. The camera angle was broad enough to capture his eye contact with the lens, the way his front teeth would nip at his bottom lip, the way the column of his straining throat would go on show as he’d tipped his head back with a groan.

She blinks, staring ahead as she remembers the way cum had painted all the way up over the panting butterfly. Harry grins from across the table. She half-expects him to brazenly admit he’s done the same to her content. So far, she’s concluded that he’s quite unashamed.

“Makes it easier to fuck, right?” Y/N says, beating him to the punchline.

He makes this face then, tipping his head, eyes widening and blinking playfully, mouth curling like he’s appalled by her brazen admission in said public setting. Before the young woman can get flustered by his teasing, he sits back and lets his features relax into something soft.

“Yeah. It does.”

Harry doesn’t tell Y/N she should wear a plug on the day that they calendar in for shooting. Not while they’re in the cafe. In fact, he waits three whole hours until the very precise moment where she’s using her apple pay at a drive through for the notification banner to swipe down.

When Y/N steps into his entryway, there’s a wilting cactus stemming from a ceramic basin next to a bowl of keys and varying knick knacks. There’s a pair of dice in there, too.

“This is Tim,” Harry introduces, unprompted, motioning to the withering plant in passing.

Y/N nudges with her chin like a sort of acknowledgement, tailing him through the hallway, where a neat array of three framed, abstractly artistic renditions of Kama Sutra positions line the segue. She’s half convinced that the doggy one follows her movement like one of those oddly unsettling renaissance portraits.

“Very nice.”

It’s a Thursday, and they’ve determined today to be the day that they collaborate. She’s wearing the plug, and she tries to ignore the anticipation curdling in the pits of her tummy as she tails him to the lounge.

“I think I overwatered him, honestly,” Harry tells her, aimed over his shoulder, “but I can’t bear to part with him.”

He’s wearing gray sweats, and he’s definitely opted to go commando, if the imprint of his dick when he pivots to face her is anything to go off of (though, whether he’s ditched underwear for the sake of the shoot or solely for comfort, Y/N isn’t sure). All she’s really, actually sure of is that she urgently needs to unglue her eyes from the outline of his cock.

“D’you want a drink or anything? I mean, I don’t like to do any alcohol before shoots, but if you want, I have seltzers in my fridge.”

He’s all soft attire — the sweats and bare feet padding over tile, curls a little mussed and swept back. A white tee coats his torso with a cartoonish bee in the center. The words ENJOY HEALTH, EAT YOUR HONEY circle the little piece of outlined artwork in blue. His nails are still green.

Y/N clears her throat. “Do you have water?”

“F’course.”

The kitchen is beside the lounge, and he tells her, as he makes his way over and opens a cabinet to cull a glass, “You can have a seat if you’d like. Figured we’d get the details down before we start filming.”

His couch is an onyx leather, its form like one of those fancy ones from a 1970s inspired catalog. Y/N sinks into the cushion. She crosses her legs. Uncrosses them. Behind her, the fridge whirs in the kitchen as the water pours into the glass. She’s admiring his fireplace when he stretches the beverage out to her.

“What are we feeling today?” the man winds around to the bend of the sectional, flopping back against the cushions with a sigh as his cotton-clad thighs splay, “…Slow and romantic? Something a little more rough?”

“Used and abused,” Y/N responds, surprised she manages to keep her cadence as even and nonchalant as she does. The second the statement escapes her, though, she takes a long sip from her glass and hides her simper behind it.

“Used and abused,” Harry parrots, sitting up a tad as his hands seek new territory from their priorly relaxed splay over the back of the couch. His palms smooth down the fronts of his thighs, instead, and he gives her this little grin; something mischievous that lets his dimples wink alive. “I think I can work with that.”

Yes. She’s certain he can, based on his track record of deviously, deliciously rough content. Three weeks ago she watched a video where his partner was laid out on a table, duck-taped limb to limb, and Y/N had watched his hand — rings removed — roam her body with such delicacy as he drove forward into her. It was all up until the point where the same hand had snaked up around her throat, and then he’d brought it back and smacked her right across the side of her unsuspecting face. It’d sent his partner’s head snapping to the side, and a wave of heat riding through Y/N, coursing through her blood as she’d flipped the vibrator between her thighs to a higher setting.

Yeah. He can work with that.

“Since we’re going with that route,” Y/N blinks out from the fog of memoirs circling back to Tiger’s hands exploring and pinching and delivering blows.

Tiger is much more subdued in this setting.

“Let’s talk things you’re into, things you’re not so into.”

The young woman gnaws into her cheek to bridle her grin. “Um. Anal’s a go. Obviously.”

Harry nods, mouth friendly, “Okay.”

Y/N deliberates. She takes another sip. Harry waits patiently. His green bores into her, and the young woman rolls her lips into her mouth, pupils climbing up to the ceiling as she contemplates. She cocks her head.

“…Face-fucking. That’s nice. I like dirty talk. I like getting my hair pulled. I like a little bit of pain. You know, like. Spanking. Face slapping, but not, like,” the edges of her mouth cave up, “MMA level—“

The joke culls a huff of soft laughter from him. He nods.

“Just. General manhandling is good with me,” Y/N tells him.

Harry nods, his fingers interlocked over his spread knees, and then he sits up a tad.

“Alright. If we’re going with face fucking, I’m a fan of the trusty tap-tap-tap,” he tells her, motioning with his left palm and patting over his thigh in a series of three as he speaks, “If it ever gets to be too much and you can’t say it, just tap three times, yeah? Just like this.”

Y/N nods. She takes another sip. For a moment, Tiger still has his forearms braced over his lap, but then he sits up a little more.

“And then when you can say, if anything’s uncomfortable, if you want me to do anything different, just let me know. Doesn’t matter if the camera’s on.”

Y/N crosses her ankles. She uncrosses them.

“S’all about authenticity. Y’know,” his tongue peeks out to swipe over the plush of his bottom lip, “I don’t wanna be throwing you against the wall or choking you if it doesn’t feel good, even if it looks good on camera. If you’re a clit girl, we’ll play with your clit—“

Her thighs press together.

“If you’re a g-spot girl, we’ll focus on the g-spot.”

She swallows.

“The throwing against the wall and the choking,” Y/N doesn’t bother hiding her simper as it grows, “Those are good with me, too. And— clit stuff. Yeah.”

Tiger is hot. Fire hot, like lava coursing and bubbling over rigid stone, even in his soft attire with his soft curls and his soft smiles. He’s got these eyes that feel like they bore through her clothes, but it’s not in an uncomfortably hungry way.

“What do you… what should I call you during the shoot?”

His strawberry mouth curls a little.

“I hear Tiger a lot. M’fine with whatever besides Harry on camera. …If you wanna get a little more into roles we can do Sir. But s’all up to you.”

It feels like he’s just got this effect — this intense gaze that makes her tummy swirl. It’s not innately an odd shift, going from this entirely professional discourse to soft touches roaming up her sides once they’re in the bedroom.

It’s the setting for their shoot, and she finds that he’s already got a camera set up on his dresser. One of those that opens up and has a little screen piece that swivels to show what’s currently recording. Harry trails over to it, toggles with the little screen, and, she assumes, begins recording.

There’s a shag rug by the bed in cream. Y/N eyes it as Harry tugs his shirt over his head, as he makes his way over. Tiger is fire hot, but his touch skims her arm like testing the waters at first. His palms cups her face, the pads of his fingers grazing the sides of her neck, close to her nape, and then his cushiony mouth finds her own. That’s testing at first, too. It’s not a chaste, innocent first kiss by any means, but his mouth is gentle, at first. His hands aren’t hard, and his mouth slots against her own with a kind of tenderness. When her fingers tease up at his waistband, fingering at a warm line of skin between his sweats and his t-shirt, his mouth morphs hungrier.

“Just—“ Y/N manages between searing kisses as his fingers work the seams of her shirt apart through button-work, “—-jumping right into it, huh?” It’s probably not the sexiest thing to say from the get go of the camera rolling, but she’s honestly still got bits of nerves coiling up in her. This is RideTheTiger. This is happening. She’s going to fuck RideTheTiger.

Another short kiss, this one she can feel the cushiony pink of his mouth curving up into.

“Sorry,” Harry amends against her mouth, lips ghosting wetly against her cupid's bow, and the word sounds sort of amused.

And then he’s manually spinning her and marching her over to the dresser, where the camera is set up, her stumbling, rushed gait steadied by the firm press of his thighs from behind as he walks her, colossal hands cupped over her arms.

“This—” he starts, an introduction blatantly made for the lens, and her pulse stutters when his palm slides up and across and cups over her throat warmly — not quite squeezing, but just there. His other hand explores the expanse of her silhouette from the waist down, pads of his fingers roaming over her tummy, “—is the infamously naughty Birdie.”

Her veins thrum with something, something hot when the ringed digits traipse to the button of her jeans, just looming over.

“Can I take these off?” Harry murmurs against the shell of her ear. The tips of his curls tickle at her temple, and she knows he asks it low enough that it’s meant for her. She knows the camera will pick up on it anyways, too.

“Yeah,” the agreement falls out meshed with an exhale, and her head tips back against his shoulder as his fingers do deft, impressively one-handed work at quick discarding.

The other hand fondles at one of her tits, only covered with fabric for so long before he takes advantage of the opening he’d made along the line of buttons, pulling at one side for the pink polka-dotted cup of her bra to come out on display. This is all very pro-level disrobing. Y/N decides that when Harry multi-tasks, popping the button of her denim through, pinching at the zipper and tugging down, all still with his other hand caressing over padded flesh at her chest. Ultimately, though, both hands make their way to her hips, and his digits wriggle under either side of her waist band to strip her jeans off, until they rest at about an immobilizing mid-thigh, with an unceremonious yank.

“I’m Tiger,” Harry talks again, finally, after what’d been a silent moment of apparent concentration, his chin ducked into the nook where her shoulder and her neck meet.

The man’s fingers toy up under the hem of Y/N’s shirt, wandering over a bare sliver of skin between the top and the line of her panties before they climb the buttoned suture and make work there.

A chill rolls down her spinal cord, stemming all the way from the nape of her neck, the back and underside of her skull, when Harry declares, almost like she’s not even there, his voice a low and heady baritone, “But, she’s going to call me Sir, and we’re gonna play a little rough with her today, because that’s what she asked for.”

He’s mid her panting ribcage when the tone in his dialogue switches. It melts from sultry and low to something mirthy when the man sighs and huffs against her neck, like the rounded latches are a long-time nemesis, “Buttons, buttons, so many buttons.”

Y/N can’t curb the surprised laugh that bubbles from her in response. Her hands rise from her sides (where they’d prior been pretty glued, mostly out of awe and the raw sort of submission manhandling incites), and her forearms brush against his own warm skin as the pads of her fingers shakily work over the stitch he’s on. Harry makes an amused sound into her skin as the corners of her mouth curl up.

This is real. These are the real moments, the ones that she’s ogled so many times from the other side of the screen, caught on camera mid an otherwise entrancing, perfectly choreographed session of picture-perfect fucking. Like the one where he’d spit and it hadn’t landed where he’d wanted it to, or the one where his partner had spent so long in an angle with her hair over her face and his palm cupped over her mouth, that by the time he’d let up she was spitting out stray hair that’d sunk in past her lips, like a cat with a hairball. Soft laughter had bloomed from the both of them when recognition had dawned, and he’d fingered over her tongue to help her as they’d switched positions. It makes sense why Harry never seems to edit those moments out.

Authenticity.

Y/N hopes he doesn’t cut this fragment of the video out.

“Sorry,” the young woman tells him, her voice garbled with giggles.

His hands snake up from under her own and they’re the one to pop the final button through. A chilly ring brushes the inside of her wrist. The top separates.

“There we go,” Harry says, tone colored with enthusiasm, and the way his fingers grip up under the cups of her bra, four for each, and tug abruptly, letting them rest under her freshly-bared tits, kind of, sort of gives her whiplash.

“Teamwork,” his thumbs slip under either side of her underwear and slink those down until just enough is showing for the eye of the lens.

Her gaze flits to the viewfinder, and the little icon of her denuded silhouette, pressed up against his chest, one swarthy, inked arm tucked over her ribcage and the sight of his other, ringed digits skimming lower, down her tummy, has her squirming in his grasp. Harry sponges kisses to the side of her neck, and then those ring-clad fingers slide between her legs. Every melty muscle in his arms grows wide awake and tensed like fucking stone. It’s only for a second, before he draws his index and his middle digit, splayed into a blissful V, across either side of her clit. That’s when she liquefies like putty in his hands again, humming softly.

“…And we’re gonna play with her arse,” Harry tacks on for the camera, almost like it’s an offhand afterthought and not the entire basis of the scene they’ve etched out.

Y/N laughs, but it melts off into something soft and whimpery when the V lingers and drags.

“Would you like that?” Harry murmurs, nose tucked into her hair — another comment where the volume implies that it’s obviously meant to be shared between just the two of them — his mouth ghosting over her earlobe and his hand climbing up the ridges of her ribcage like a ladder, “Hm? You want me to play with you there?”

When his palm expands to rest over the gap between the caging of bone, the space extends out on a breath and she rocks in his touch, hips rolling back subtly. “Mhm.”

It’s not something he fails to pick up on. The pads of his fingertips expertly toggle at the clasp of her bra — honestly, she’s ludicrously impressed, not only by his keen recognition of the frontal clasp, but this seemingly innate, deft ability to discard clothing pieces with one hand. The straps relax and slip down her shoulders the second the cups fall free and apart.

“Mhm?” Harry mimics; a low, teasing hum. Y/N thinks then, that this little, patronizing repetition thing he’s got going on could be categorized as a kink in and of itself.

The palm that’d settled over her diaphragm slinks up to grope at one of her tits.

It’s kind of game over from there.

There’s something hard and solid digging into the small of her back, and the longer he spends fondling between her thighs, the longer he spends swiping his thumb over her nipple, the more heat teems to her core, like a glowing warmth that seeps and pulses. The more sure Y/N becomes that his fingertips are definitely culling that top coat she’d pictured all along, enhancing the color there with glinting excitement.

“There’s a good girl,” Harry purrs when her legs spread a smidge more in response, despite the way they’re nearly glued together with the immobilizing squeeze of her waistband resting mid-thigh.

The tip of his nose burrows into her hair and grazes at the skin on the side of her neck when his head ducks, fingers sneaking further until the pads press to explore where she’s gushing. His index and his thumb work in tandem to pinch at a nipple and tug.

And then his tongue licks a practically searing stripe right beside her jugular, and his words send air over wet skin to soothe the flame, “…Getting my fingers all wet, aren’t you?”

Gameovergameovergameovergameover.

Shelosesshelosesshelosessheloses.

Another burst of air over the wet skin, the soft creak of a chuckle — that’s what reminds her that she’s definitely not breathing.

Fuck. Y/N sucks in air with a chest tensed like metal armor. His teeth nip over her earlobe.

And then RideTheTiger slides his slick fingers out from between her legs, coaxing (when she sags in his grip like a marionette that’s had its strings snipped), “Why don’t you give them a little spin and show them the pretty plug you’ve been wearing for me, pet.”

Touch, touch, touch. When Y/N pivots for him, turning her backside to the camera, his mouth brushes the crest of her cheekbone. His warm pecs go flush with her own chest, his palms settle on her love handles and the insides of his rings stipple chills to combat the heat of flesh on flesh. He sponges a kiss to her throat when the young woman throws a glance back to the little screen and shakily presses her palms to the globes of her backside, pulling the flesh there apart to show off the pretty end, silicone petals cradling the shape of a rose.

That’s when he kneels, cheek pressed to the side of her thigh, when he casts his gaze to the plug with that telltale furrow to his brow bone that she’s seen caught on camera so many times. That’s when his teeth burrow into the pillow of his bottom lip, when he brushes a nearly tentative touch over the plug with the tips of his fingers. That’s when Harry nudges at it and jade bounces from the pallid pink plastic to the shape of her jawline tensing above in response, mouth growing mirthy.

Nothing prepares her for the way he praises, almost like he’s in awe (and nearly too low for the camera to catch), “So pretty.”

A crease works in between her own eyebrows when his index and his thumb pinch over the plug and twist. And then he lays his thumb over the base and pushes, lightly, as if it can go any further. He draws the pad of his index over the hilt of the plug almost thoughtfully, and then tap-taps in a pair of two that makes her roll her lips into her mouth

“Don’t move,” Harry instructs, after a moment, sneaky, devious fingertips withdrawing altogether. She’s holding her breath again. Y/N readjusts her grip.

“Just like that,” comes his croon from below, undeniably heady and entirely responsible for the warmth churning between her thighs, “…Just like that, little bird. Show it off, baby.”

Little bird hits her like a fucking freight train.

It’s just a play on words, a moniker he’s melded from her stage name, her online personality. It’s been all of, maybe, six minutes — a generous consideration for the timeframe — and he’s already managed to morph her porno pseudonym into a pet name with his soft murmur.

She’s so focused on the ironic way that such a delicate thing off his tongue makes something so violently carnal stir within her that the young woman doesn’t even notice that he’s been sat near her thighs for a solid second, unspeaking and untouching, besides the paste of his warm cheek beside the press of her hands.

It’s a suspiciously mischievous sort of silence, but Tiger is no secret-keeper, not when he pats over the back of her leg, a one-tap gesture, and rises to announce, one third amused and two-thirds smug, “Thumbnail.”

The admission is so crude and unexpected that it draws a peal of sputtering laughter from her, feigned indignation meshing with mirth as he rises from the floor, all cocky with an unfairly alluring curl that’s strayed from the rest and flopped to lay over his forehead.

“You want to use my ass as your thumbnail?”

Muted raspberry breaks its relaxed line to curve up, obviously self-satisfied and obviously unashamed. Y/N doesn’t think she’ll ever quite keep up with the casual nature of Harry’s mannerisms, not when he hums and his grin splits further, twisting around her to daub her jaw with a kiss.

“…And not my pretty face?” Y/N blinks.

“Last I checked—'' Harry tells her, fingers raking through her roots and palm cradling at her scalp in a way that coaxes chills to bud and roam down the nape of her neck. The digits twist her hair into a bun until his palm is squeezing at her hair all bunched like a flower blooming in reverse, “—You were here to be used and abused, per your request. Not to ask questions.”

Despite the way he cranes her neck back with the motion, the way it has her jaw unlatching and a surprised exhale full of want escaping, despite the way he drags his teeth down her neck in a line, nipping, Y/N manages to keep her voice impressively even.

“You don’t want my pretty face painted with your cum as the thumbnail?” she baits, throat bobbing on a swallow.

He bites.

At first, his lashline narrows a smidge in obvious inkling that the brazen words have affected him, but then he tips his head and his smug beam morphs more sluggish, more pleased than amused.

“You want my cum painting your pretty face?”

“Mm,” Y/N hums in agreement when he turns her head to paste a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Yeah? That’s what you want?”

His tone is suggestive as he manhandles her over onto the fuzzy rug she’d admired before things got all murky with arousal and …cinematic. Y/N twists in his grasp until he’s nudging her onto her knees with his hands.

And his voice is low, easy like a sigh, each note interlaced with nonchalance and seemingly effortless power, “Let’s see how good you suck cock.”

Before Harry shoves his waistband down, though, he stuffs a hand into his pocket and culls his phone. He gives her this look down from behind it, thumb tucked behind gray elastic. It’s this wordless, expressionless sort of seeking; all good? Y/N nudges with her chin, lashes fluttering. Tiger toggles over the screen one-handed, and her eyes flit to the uneven pull at his sweats — if only for a second — that showcases bare skin and the cut of a V-line on one side. As he nudges the sweats off to rest under his balls, the phone pings. It’s the sound of a notification — he’s recording.

His dick is pretty. Pretty in pink with a prominent vein on the underside and a soft dusting of neatly trimmed, dark pubic hair over his pelvic bone that his happy trail had foreshadowed, and his tip is a ruddy shade that matches the tint of his mouth. She’s seen his cock before, obviously, but ogling it in person rather than as a conglomeration of pixels is a different sort of experience. He’s always looked big on screen, the sheer size of him with a fist over his shaft always implying it. But he’s big. Big enough for two of her hands to cradle over his cock comfortably with the head peeking out from her grip, digits never quite meeting in the middle. Y/N spits into a palm before wrapping it over his shaft, eyes flickering up front under her lashes to meet the lens of the camera.

“You’re so big,” the young woman admits after a moment, irises bouncing from her grip to the phone looming over, and she drags her tongue over her other palm to cup over him with two like it’s proof.

And Harry strokes over the side of her scalp, almost like he’s wordlessly scratching a dog’s ears in praise, a soft, pleased huff escaping through his nostrils and his lips shaping over a smug sort of beam that never really unseals.

Almost tentatively, with her eyes still bouncing from the lens to his cock and back, Y/N leans forward and drags his tip over her tongue. Harry sighs in response, fingertips still hovering at her roots. She purses her lips and lets saliva dribble from her mouth onto his head messily, swiping over the wetness with her thumb, and then she strokes down his shaft with two hands as she wraps her lips over him and draws a circle with her tongue. The subtle, although sharp, inhale she earns in response to the motion has her batting her lashes up at the camera.

“You’re not shy at all, are you? Not in front of the camera,” Harry says after a moment.

He’s so obviously bridling a hiss when she drags her tongue up under his leaky tip, his front teeth lodging into the pillow of his bottom lip and brows furrowing. Despite the phone cradled over her face, the young woman still has enough room to observe his. Y/N bats her lashes coyly, pupils flitting back to the camera as her mouth opens to showcase the view of her hands working in gentle twists while she drags his cockhead over her tastebuds.

“…No, you’re not that shy, little girl that you were in the cafe at all.”

She seals her lips over his tip, hollows her cheeks, and hums.

“…All prim and proper,” the fingertips that’d scraped over the side of her scalp trail to the back of her head, “…Didn’t even wanna say you liked cum dripping out of you. Didn’t wanna let everyone know that you’re a little anal whore.”

The words coax her to clench over the plug.

“…S’okay, baby,” Harry tells her after a moment, “I like that you’re a whore on camera for me,”and then the hand that’d cradled over the back of her skull encourages her own palm to slowly unwrap and fall away as he curls it over his shaft to guide it’s aim.

Y/N pulls off, and Tiger smears the tip over her spit-slicked, swollen mouth. It parts, and Harry traces over the open seam of her lips like he’s applying lip gloss.

“Please,” the young woman says, mouthing over his tip, almost inaudible.

“Hm?”

“Please,” Y/N repeats, and the drag of his tip slides over her bottom lip on the s.

Harry inhales from above. He doesn’t immediately give her what she wants, instead opting to draw over her cupid’s bow as he tips his head, voice quiet and still somehow full of a dominant edge. “So polite. You wanna taste more of my cock?”

The young woman nods, eyes tipped up, and he smears his cockhead over her mouth again. Harry’s teeth nudge into the plush of his bottom lip before he directs, “Stick your tongue out for me. I’ll give you a little taste.”

And he does. He grazes her tongue with it the moment it’s on show, basking in her soft breaths puffing out against him and the sweet sight of her gaze, unwavering.

“S’that good?” Harry asks, mouth curling at the (currently) brazenly lewd young woman at his feet, “What you wanted?”

And she just nods up at him. Despite the way she wants more, the way she wants to close her lips around him and keep twisting her grasp to watch his seams split in ecstacy, Y/N motions lightly with her head. A little sound escapes the back of her throat when he drags the tip of his cock back over her top lip and sighs.

“You really are such a little whore, aren’t you?” Harry says, tracing along the open seam of her lips with the tip and dragging it over her tongue again, “Give me a pretty smile. Show me just how much you like it.“

His words melt off into a rumbly hum when, as he draws over the border of her bottom lip and takes his cock off her tongue, her pretty teeth slowly seep shut and the corners of her mouth form something absolutely overjoyed. Her head cocks, and she grins up at him. All innocuous too, if it weren’t for the head of a cock smearing over the edges of her smile. His thumb slinks out from the hold he’s got over his dick to graze with the pad at the shiny white of her top teeth.

“Good girl.”

Somewhere around there is when her teeth part and his thumb mingles onto her tongue. Then, the young woman wraps her lips over the digit and sucks. The tension of her cheeks hollowing over his finger in the silence is cut short with a ping — Harry turns the camera off and flings the phone somewhere in the direction of the bed. There’s no definitive thump behind her, so Y/N assumes the man makes it. She hums and pulls off of the digit with a pop and a giggle.

Dimples pluck alive beside his smile. “Something funny?”

“No,” the young woman clears her throat, the apples of her cheeks still emphasized and round with her apparent amusement, “Nothing. It’s just.” She blinks up at him, “…Surreal, sort of. Your dick’s just as pretty in person as it is on camera.”

Tiger cocks his head and swipes over her bottom lip with the tip of said dick. She’s quite good at stroking his ego.

“Thanks. That’s sweet, darling.”

A furrow works between his brows as her tongue peeks out to daub at the lingering head. “You watch a lot of my videos?”

And the admission comes almost hungry, with no remorse, “Mm. Touch myself to them.”

That’s when his brows crease more, when heat swells down through the trench of his tummy and teems up the underside of his balls, where they drive taut at the words.

“Christ.”

Blown jade bouncing from her lips to the contact of her own eyes and back. Eventually, he swallows and directs, “Tongue out.”

When she displays it for him, jaw wide, those shambles splinters of composure seemingly fuse. The Harry that emerges nearly gives her whiplash.

“You touch yourself to my videos?” Harry coos, and the words are coated with so much condescension that Y/N is sure she’d be humiliated in any other circumstance.

Her tongue twitches under his cockhead. The man looming over swipes that same, leaky tip over her taste buds, and his grin broadens into something like a borderline sadistic Cheshire cat. And then he’s leaning over a smidge, cock still angled over her outstretched tongue, opposite hand fondling under that, at her jaw, and squeezing at her cheeks.

“That is so—“ emphasizing the words with the slap of his tip against her tongue, Harry grits out, “—fucking—“ another tap that has her uselessly lolled tongue jolting and a garbled little sound wresting from the back of her throat, “—cute.”

Y/N blinks up at him, one hand uncurling slowly and falling away as he nudges the back of her head to swallow more of him in past her lips.

“Why don’t you use that hand and play with your little clit for me? The way you do when you’re watching me.”

She makes a muffled noise around him as he sinks in further, and her hand traipses between her poorly, poorly splayed thighs.

“That’s it,” Harry murmurs, though whether the praise is directed at the way the tips of her fingers pry between her legs or the way she blinks wetly over his cock as she takes more of him into her mouth, Y/N is unsure. “There’s a good girl. Look at me— yeah. Fuck.”

He holds onto either side of her head, long fingers splaying over her skull, and the young woman splutters when his tip prods at the back of her throat and teases at her gag reflex. The tip of her nose grazes his happy trail, so all in all, it’s a solid effort in one go. Harry holds her there for a moment, relishing in the squeeze of her throat over him as she fights sputtering more, and a throaty groan rips from his vocal chords before his fingers tangle into her hair. That’s when he yanks her off.

Her chest is already rolling in pants, and the way his palm collides with the fleshy area of her cheek nearly launches her lightheaded headspace into overload. The blow isn’t loud, and it doesn’t really hurt, but he does it a second time, palm grazing over the same fragment of skin. It’s the hand that doesn’t have any rings, and Y/N’s mouth curls up in borderline delirious bliss, teeth unsealed and lips swollen and saliva-daubed. Tiger coaxes a moan when he goes for it a third time. But this time, his hand snakes to palm over the column of her throat and squeeze.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” Harry tells her, thumb cruising over an inch of skin, “Such a slut for it.”

Her pulse thunders under his grasp. It’s almost like his touch pries the nearly animalistic giggle off her lips. She’s still beaming open-mouthed, and her voice is raw when she beckons, “Yeah—“

And then there’s a ragged gasp and subdued sort of gag, coated with surprise, when Tiger nudges her face forward and unceremoniously shoves his dick back down her throat, his brows pinched.

“Get that mouth back on my cock.”

Her hands find his thighs, just wavering over them, curling and unflexing as her eyes squeeze shut.

“Don’t close your eyes. Look up at me. Look up at me— there you go,” Harry cooes when, despite every instinct that coaxes every muscle in her face to clench and tense, Y/N follows his directions and blinks up at him through a watery sheen. “Shit.”

And then he’s hauling her off and she’s gasping for breath, only for a short moment before he slides back past her jaw until her chin is flush with his sac and he’s pulsing in the warm confines of her mouth. Her lashes flutter. A devious kind of laugh bubbles from him, breathy, and low, and short when the heels of her palms press into the sturdy muscle beneath his laurels. Except this time he doesn’t yank her all the way off for a third time. He holds her there for a second, swearing softly at the view, and then tugs her off until his tip’s on her tongue and pumps back in. It’s a subtle motion — testing, like he’s observing her reaction, really assessing her comfort levels with this. He does it a few more times, as gentle of a motion as it really can be until she squints her eyes shut and muzzles a cough, blinking up at him rapidly through the blur.

Harry swipes a thumb under her eye, where a rivulet leaks, praising almost in a whisper as she practically vibrates at his feet, “That’s it.”

Another second to gasp in air, and then he’s fucking her mouth, brushing her gag reflex with every drive forward and every pump out. Y/N sort of loses herself in it — in the fingertips burrowing into her roots, in the huffs and groans that escape him, in the warm muscle beneath her touch, in the way his dick slides down her throat. It’s quite nice. RideTheTiger is fucking her mouth, and it’s nice.

“Look at you,” Harry hums after a while, the hold on the back of her head firm, and she blinks at him all teary-eyed, gagging around him as her chin presses flush with his balls. “So sloppy. Made my nice joggers all wet.”

Drool pools down her chin, and strings of it dangle from his balls and sully the fabric further. She bats her lashes up at him, and tears slink off from her waterline. Her fingers flex and relax over his thigh, never quite loosening the tension there fully. The man swipes the thumb on his free hand under her eye, where inky black has smudged off from her lashes, and the lewd, left corner of his mouth tips up lopsidedly.

“You’re such a pretty girl when you’re making a mess,” and then, to nail the demeaning compliment home with the most heady, joyfully smug tone, “Yes you are, little bird.”

His sluggish grin morphs into a borderline pornographic lip-bite then, and he cranes his neck back with a throaty hum, fingers tensing and relaxing, before his digits ultimately tighten in her hair and coax the young woman off. She coughs like she hasn’t breathed in ages,

Y/N doesn’t know how she gets up to her feet. It’s a lightheaded clamber, coaxed by Harry’s fingers tugging at her hair, his hand on her arm, his definitive, “Get up.” Somehow, though, she manages, despite the fact that her jeans are still half-on, and Harry steadies her and makes her dizzy all at once when his mouth presses hungrily to hers. One hand cradles the side of her neck and the other braces her at the hip. It’s a heated kiss, like Tiger doesn’t mind that her chin is coated with spit, or that the same spit smears over his own jaw as their mouths connect. Y/N nearly trips over her own feet as he walks her, backwards, into the general direction of the bed. The mattress meets the backs of her knees and his hand (which has, since settling on her hip, mingled up her side and cupped over one of her tits) sends her toppling back against the sheets. Harry nearly snickers at her look of indignation. Instead though, he tucks his fingers up under her half-down denim and tugs until her pants are off and she finally, finally has the ability to spread her legs. He tosses those onto the rug, and Y/N watches Harry finish disrobing, kicking the gray sweats into a rumpled pile beside her jeans.

The camera is still rolling on the dresser, and it’ll keep rolling. It’ll keep rolling when he sinks his face between her thighs, it’ll keep rolling when he pulls the plug out and nudges his fingers in, when he slips his cock into her cunt and then, eventually, switches to her other hole. Or maybe it’ll go in an all different order. Tiger cradles her by the hips and repositions her roughly. The lens doesn’t catch the way she’s all shimmery between her legs with want from its angle, but Harry does, eyes glued there as his fingertips trail featherlight up her thigh and back down.

A crease works in between his brows like he’s contemplating something, and then he pats the same fragment of flesh he’d been caressing and instructs, “Flip over.”

Y/N tips over to her side and then rolls onto her tummy, but when she clambers onto her hands and knees Harry beckons, “Where are you going, little bird?” He sighs, warm palm grasping over her ankle and yanking her back towards the edge of the bed, just until Y/N is splayed and forced to shimmy her way back into a pretty arch. “Hm?”

His hand is still gripped over the joint when the other climbs up the back of her naked thigh, skin on skin petting softly there. “Where are you going, little girl?”

She’s going to implode. She nearly does when his colossal palms cup either cheek of her backside and spread. He hums like he’s pleased.

“Which hole should I fuck first…” Harry ponders aloud from behind, but it all feels sort of rhetorical when he nudges over her tightest, little hole, pressing like he’s teasing a breach with the tip of his digit.

She thinks he must be using his other hand, too, because the pad of his thumb drives a circle over her puffy, spit-slicked clit. The ring of muscle flutters.

“…Hm?”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shots #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #dom!harry x sub!reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #sub!reader #dom!harry #pornstar!harry

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mochatsin · 4 months ago

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School Play

There’s another school play in which you act as the main lead because Simeon thought you’d be perfect for the role, there’s no need to cast anyone else (much to Asmo’s dismay). He’s seen your performances before, and you’re one of the easiest actors to work with compared to the brothers that constantly got their lines wrong during rehearsals. Simeon can get frustrated, and it seems that the brothers feel the same way, if not terrified of the angel’s sudden change in attitude as soon as he plays the director. You’re just relieved he’s not that way towards you.

Of course, who wouldn’t want to see a play written by Christopher Peugeot himself. The theme was a thrilling love story wherein the hero would have to go through a long journey to rescue the one they love, which was you. They would meet so many characters that would either support the hero or become an obstacle on his way to defeat the cruel lord that locked you up.

You’re the main love interest, and you sat on the side watching as everyone else in the room debated and fought each other on why they should have the main lead role, why they should be the hero who would rescue you. Seeing as how the atmosphere in the room is starting to have murderous intent, Simeon finally thought of a solution that would be fair to everyone. Draw lots.

That’s how you ended up with Solomon as your hero, and Barbatos acting as the main villain and the rest playing a support role. They either help Solomon with the journey or act as one of Barbatos’ minions to try to stop him from his advances. Everyone could only blame their luck, though to say that Solomon was happy about his part is an understatement. Meanwhile, Barbatos does adore the parts where he keeps you all to himself, however he does not enjoy the scene where he had to terrorize a town since Diavolo’s character, a commoner (which he loves to play), is one of the victims that the hero finds which eventually sets the tone of the play to move forward. It takes a lot for Barbatos not to run to his master’s side while he was acting out his death.

Solomon is always ready to rehearse his scenes with you, and when it’s about lines talking about you, Simeon is impressed at how quickly he can memorize them. But then again, if they’re all about how much he adores you then it’s not difficult to remember at all. Lucifer and the others hate playing supporting characters where they have to hear about how much Solomon loves you. It’s bad enough they had to play the role of helping him, but there are several minutes of dialogue with his character telling them how important you are to him and how he needs to find you quickly! It took several practice rehearsals for Mammon to say his lines without sounding so forced or annoyed at him when his role is to literally help Solomon through the journey.

Levi is quite happy with his role as the costume designer because there’s no way his envy wouldn’t flare up if he had to stand there and listen to that. That would’ve flooded the stage if he lost all control, so he decides to use headphones and blast music when it’s Solomon’s scene and only take it off once it’s you.

Satan would play the role of the narrator, and while he normally enjoys the part he got, it’s quite irritating that he has to tell the love story between you two, even if it’s merely a work of fiction. His claws threatened to tear holes into the script, but he kept himself calm and collected. They decided to put a leather cover binding to avoid that happening, and Satan actually likes how his own personal script looks like a book now.

Lucifer is questioning why Simeon would write such a piece, given how most lines are so sickening and romantic. The angel wanted to tell a tale of lovers that could overcome everything, though he omits the fact that he really did have you in mind when he was writing this. Maybe he projected a little too much of his feelings, but the play still had more elements regardless that a lot of the audience would be able to enjoy. The action, the drama, and the tension that could keep everyone at the edge of their seats.

What Simeon did not expect is for the brother’s self control to snap. Maybe he should’ve thought about that when he wrote down that kiss scene. It’s a page he kept between you and Solomon, as he knew that rehearsals would’ve been a disaster if they knew how the story would actually end. Of course he did ask for your permission, if this is something you’re comfortable with and he would rewrite the part if he needed. You don’t mind, and you understand why this was kept private.

So when the day of the play came, everything was going smoothly. At least according to Simeon’s high standards.

Solomon and Barbatos really do seem to play the perfect role. A good villain doesn't need to yell, it comes with the composure they bring in the story that sometimes people wonder if Barbatos is really acting. The fight scenes were also phenomenal whenever Solomon would use some sort of imagery magic to make it more realistic, sparkes and effects flying in the air as they fought until Barbatos eventually fled, claiming defeat but he will be back for you one day.

What the brothers thought was a successful play became something they dreaded when you and Solomon continued the scene. These were lines they’ve never heard before, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess where this was heading. Satan is furiously flipping through the script trying to see where this was coming from, but this part was hidden from the Avatars on purpose.

“Oh how I longed to hold you like this in my arms.” Solomon says as he pulls you in an embrace that lingered longer than the brothers would like while they watched from backstage.

“Did you truly miss me that much?” You say, meant to be a half tease to the hero as you returned the hug. It’s a romantic reunion that the audience has been waiting for.

“More than you could ever think.” Solomon sounds so convincing. He says his lines as if you two were truly apart for so long, that there’s disbelief in his voice like this was all a dream and he would wake up to find that his journey is not over, that you were still locked away. But he has you in his arms, and that’s all he needs to ground himself. “Each time I see the crescent moon, I’m reminded of the smile that graced your lips. It pains me whenever I turn to my side and realize that you’re weren’t with me.”

Solomon brushes the hair away from your face before cupping your cheek, looking at you so lovingly that you feel your heart skip a beat, almost forgetting that you’re acting out a scene. But to the sorcerer, he doesn’t need to act. “Tell me, will you grace me with those lips?” He asks, and that’s the cue for you to slowly lean forward to seal the deal.

“HOLD IT!”

Both if you freeze before turning back to see Mammon pointing the sword prop at Solomon. The sorcerer is confused, and perhaps a little irritated that his moment with you was ruined. It would’ve been a perfect way to end the play. “What are you doing?” Solomon asks with furrowed brows.

“That’s my line! Get ya grimy hands off em!” Mammon growled, taking a few steps forward.

“You’re not even supposed to be part of this narrative.” Solomon reminds the demon, warning him for ruining the scene.

“You claim that as so,” Satan says as he appears by his brother’s side in a puff of green flames, looking quite pissed. “How dare you rewrite the ending to your liking, and then use the Narrative as your shield. You should be ashamed of yourself, filthy thief.” the demon hissed as he threw the script he fashioned into a book across the stage. The brothers fully believed they were deceived with the script, and that Solomon had something to do with it.

The audience are now all captivated at the scene unfolding before their eyes as they watched the Narrator throw the book across. Perhaps the book told the whole scene, and that Solomon actually rewrote the ending according to his will since they assumed that script was an actual prop to keep the story going. “Was the hero actually manipulating the whole scene?” “What a crazy twist!” “Wait, so who's the real lover?” “Were they tricked to think that Solomon was the real love interest?!”. Whispers rang in the air as they were all made to believe this was still part of the play

That might be the only way for them to salvage what could’ve been a successful performance: to keep acting. Solomon reluctantly lets go of you before standing up to face the two demons. “I can’t believe you all would cause a scene, after all we’ve been through. After all they’ve been through.” Solomon says as he gestures to you, who is just as confused as the crowd.

“Ah, so you acknowledge our efforts and yet you get to keep them for yourself?” Belphie steps in on the other side of the stage, with Beel following behind him. “Kinda greedy isn’t it? Even greedier than him.” Belphie says while pointing at Mammon. That somehow got the audience to laugh.

“That’s pretty selfish too, and that’s coming from me!” Asmo finally chimes in, holding onto his tulle costume while he stomps into the stage. He wouldn’t let his brothers steal all the spotlight, and there was also no way he was going to let Solomon just kiss you like that on the stage. If it were him instead, you both would be the talk of the week! “Honestly dear, that’s quite a big low. Even for someone like you.”

Simeon is just thankful that Lucifer and Levi didn’t even chime in on this monstrous mess of a show, he has their pride and anxiety (respectively) to thank for. Despite the sudden improv show, it seems that it captured the audience’s attention… just not in the way that he hoped.

Solomon is now putting you behind him with a magic spell flaring by the palm of his hand. Nothing harmful, just something that’s more flashy than anything. The other demons are closing in on you both, trying to make up lines on why you should choose them. Of course, a fight breaks out and everyone in the audience cheered for whoever they were rooting for to win while you stayed behind and watched the chaos unfold.

It took one wrong spell after another for the boys to lay on the ground, groaning after Satan and Solomon’s stun lock spell collided into something bigger that it affected everyone in the stage except you since you stayed behind. You wondered what you could say or do to salvage this as the audience is watching intently on what happens next.

Thankfully, Lucifer finally steps on the stage, calm and collected as ever while he tries to avoid the groaning actors. He played as one of the Barbatos’ henchmen that Solomon defeated, so seeing his reappearance was definitely a shock to the crowd. You prayed that Lucifer has a plan on getting you out of this mess without ruining the play you all worked so hard for. Luckily, Simeon told him a few lines that could salvage the play and save you from the embarrassment.

He grabs your hand and kisses the back of it, a small smirk appearing on his face before he continues. “I’m here to collect you, under my master’s orders. It seems that he was right, that none of these heroes were ever deserving of your heart.” Lucifer says while he stares at his idiotic brothers with discontent, managing to stay in character just like you hoped. “Luckily, we don’t need to rely on cheap tricks and underhanded tactics.”

Solomon groans, rubbing his eyes profusely but his vision won’t focus yet due to the spell. “Don’t listen to them…” He says, desperately trying to reach out to you. Lucifer only lets out a low chuckle as he watches how pathetic the hero has become.

“Come with us, and we’ll be sure to prove them wrong.” His line is full of confidence with a slight mischief, and the crowd cheers as the lights go dark and the curtains drop, signaling the end of the play.

What should’ve ended in a happy love story became some sort of twist. People now assume the hero might’ve manipulated the scene which they find amusing if the good guy of the story was not who they pictured to be, and the villains may actually have a shot of winning your heart. It’s the talk of the school, and people are praising Simeon for writing such a crazy plot twist, which he finds a little frustrating since it’s the only part he didn’t actually plan. He’s not sure if he wants to thank the brother’s recklessness or not.

Even after Simeon explained the hidden parts that were reserved just for you and Solomon since he expected something like this could happen at the rehearsals, he never really anticipated that they would jump in the scene like that on the actual performance itself. Now he has to write another play in the future as many expressed their wish to see what happens between you and the dark lord Barbatos.

Needless to say, many of the brothers were strung upside down by their feet after the show.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #i forgot to add luke omg

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rosenclaws · 4 months ago

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Pride & Prejudice || Leopold Mountbatten x Reader

Summary: You're an actress auditioning for theatre production of Pride & Prejudice and Leopold finds you practicing your lines.

a/n: Okay so, I need more leopold being an actor and cute moments so this was born. Full confession. I have never watched or read Pride & Prejudice so I am very sorry if I messed up anything aksdfhl. Anyways i hope u like it!!!

The fire escape has to be Leopold's favorite place. He sits on the small chair and watches the bustling city below him. Overwhelming is an understatement when it comes to the last couple weeks.

Falling into the future sounds like a work of fiction, yet it was his reality. Adjusting hasn’t been the easiest but he’s lucky to have Kate and Charlie and well, you.

“Do you think I could have ever considered marrying the man who has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of my beloved sister?” Leopold perks up at the sound of your voice.

You’re Kate's neighbor, kind of. You live below her. Leopold has seen you a few times, mostly when you lock yourself out of your apartment and need to climb through Kate's fire escape. He knows you’re an actor like Charlie but in the day time you work at a coffee shop.

You served him once or twice when he came to visit you. Your knowledge of theater is extensive and Leopold always had an interest in the stage so conversation came easy. You also loved movies, something he was completely unfamiliar with. He remembers your eyes lighting up at the very idea of showing him your favorite films. A soft smile across his face as he recalls your many movie nights. Though he didn’t quite understand every movie, he could care less when you were so passionate about each and every one of them.

“You arrogantly and unjustly maneuvered Mr. Bingley away from Jane. Can you deny it?” The dialogue catches his attention, you must be practicing for a show. He climbs down the fire escape to your apartment.

“Your manner…Ugh!” You fall back onto your couch as you throw the sides onto the coffee table.

“I’m never going to get this right.” You groan helplessly.

“I thought you sounded lovely.” You let out a small scream as you hear another voice. Turning your head you see Leopold sitting on your fire escape.

“Leo! What have I said about knocking?”

“My apologies.” He climbs through the window and walks over to you. He looks at the pieces of paper and reaches down to pick it up.

“Pride and Prejudice, I had no idea they turned this into a play.” He flips through some of the pages. He remembers reading the book and enjoying it quite a bit.

“Have you gotten the part?” You scrunch your face as you shake your head.

“No. Auditions are next week. I…” You hesitate to continue but he smiles softly and you cave instantly.

“I wanted to audition for Elizabeth but a couple friends told me I’d probably be a better Charlotte.”

Not that you had anything against the character and a part is a part no matter how small, but you wanted to play more than a side character. Leopold's brows furrow as he sets down the script.

“Nonsense, do not listen to them. I think you would make a perfect Elizabeth.” He compliments sincerely. Of course you would, he thinks. You’d be perfect in any role.

“Thanks.” Your eyes drift to the sides on the table. Leopold stands with his arms behind his back, even in casual clothing he radiates this aura unlike anything you’ve seen.

“You know Leo,” You smile as an idea pops into your head. “I think you should audition too.” Picturing him as Mr. Darcy is easy. After he did his butter commercial, you realized he was a natural for acting and with his background, he’d be perfect for period pieces. Not to mention how handsome he is. You’re sure the director would be tripping over himself to get Leopold a role. Leopold seems uncertain at your suggestion.

“Here,” You pick up the sides and hand him the one for Mr. Darcy. He skims over the lines and frowns.

“I do not recognize this.”

“Oh yeah, they’re from the movie. The director wanted to include his big monologue and the kiss.” You explain, making a mental note to show him the movie later.

“I understand wanting to take creative liberties and all but…” Maybe he’s a stickler for the classics but he isn’t exactly fond of changing such a well written book.

“Just give it a try.” He sighs and stands a bit taller.

“You are too generous to trifle with me. I believe you spoke with my Aunt last night, and it has taught me to hope as I had scarcely allowed myself before.” He looks up from the script and you give him an encouraging smile.

“If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me forever.” You want to melt under his gaze. It’s not fair how easily the words flow out of his mouth. How naturally charming he is.

‘“If, however, your feelings have changed…” To your surprise he sets down the paper and walks closer to you, holding out his hand to you. Hesitantly you take his hand, unsure of where he was going with this. He pulls you up, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I could, I would have to tell you, you have bewitched me body and soul,” His hand gently grabs your chin as he steps closer to you. You stand frozen in complete shock. The script is long forgotten, the pages having fallen from his hands.

“And I love and love and love you. And never wish to be parted from you from this day on.” He finishes his monologue as a whisper. You part your lips but no words come out, wanting to hold onto this moment for longer.

“I believe you mentioned a kiss,” He mumbles.

“It’s uh, towards the end…” He hums and without another word he gently kisses you.

Your eyes flutter closed as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips are so soft, so gentle yet so passionate. One of his hands snakes to your lower back, guiding you even closer to him. The kiss breaks and you’re left breathing heavily, smiles on both of your faces.

“You’re really good at this. Maybe you should become an actor.” You say jokingly. He chuckles and brushes his thumb along your cheek.

“I was not acting,” He admits.

“You are truly, utterly, bewitching and If you were to accept, I would die a happy man.” Jesus, he knows how to talk.

“I would be an idiot to say no to you.” You grab his face and crash your lips onto his. He steps back but quickly matches your fervor.

“Join me for dinner tonight, so I can court you properly.” He says breathlessly, his face slightly flushed.

“Properly? So you don’t normally kiss a girl before dinner?” You say teasingly.

“No, But for the sake of theater, perhaps I can make an exception.” That’s as forward as you’ve ever seen from Leopold, an innocent smile on his face but a clear spark in his eyes. Smirking, you glance at the scattered pages on the ground.

“Good, because I think we need to run the scene again and again.”

#kate and leopold #leopold x reader #leopold Mountbatten x reader #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader

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galedekarios · 5 months ago

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🔮 patch 7 will finally address the morena dekarios conversation bug 🔮

from larian's patch 7 highlights [source]

this dialogue, which has been bugged for about a year now, will finally be addressed in patch 7:

Player: So your last name is Dekarios? Gale: It is. Courtesy of my mother, the inimitable, dare I say it sometimes unavoidable, Morena Dekarios. It’s been so long since I’ve used it. 'Gale Dekarios’ cuts a poor figure next to the wizard prowess of 'Gale of Waterdeep’. Player: Gale Dekarios… I think I like him more. Gale: You like so many things about me I’d have sooner discarded… Your generosity is quite wonderful. Gale Dekarios likes you too. Very, very much. Though let’s keep his exitence between ourselves for now. - Player: Doesn’t your mother mind? Gale: Oh, she’s happy if I’m happy. Morena couldn’t care one jot what I call myself. Tara’s the real stickler for using it. Has done since I summoned her. I’d prefer you not follow her example, if that’s all the same to you. 'Gale’ is more than sufficient. - Player: You’re right. Just 'Gale' is better. Gale: I agree. And on the plus side, if I get myself into any truly cataclystic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

as of right now, you are only able to trigger this conversation with gale via console.

if you want to listen to tim downie's delivery of these lines regarding gale's last name and his mother morena, you can do so here:

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #morena dekarios #gale x tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #ch: gale dekarios #ch: morena dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3

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eilishsmuse · 5 months ago

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confess that you were lost

— billie eilish x fem!reader

context. friendship? relationship? situationship? you have no clue what you have with billie. and she doesn’t really clarify what is going on between you two either. all you really know is that there’s a thin line of platonic and romantic the two of you constantly cross over for one another.

cw. angst, swearing, heartbreak, jealousy, suggestive, makeout, reader feels thrown to the side constantly, billie is very unaware with the situation, lowk gets a lil slutty, lowk smut, lowk cliffhanger, good ending ig

soundtrack. temptations - partynextdoor

anon’s ask. “there’s not enough billie angst so how about a situation where reader likes billie but billie’s playing with the line of platonic and romantic so r just doesn’t want to risk hurting the friendship”

You're dumb

Well no. Not really. You just fell in love with your best friend, that's all. Which, in your case, was dumb to even begin with. You don't even know how it initially happened. One day you were breaking up with your boyfriend, and Billie was there, comforting you every second of the way.

I mean, it was the real package. Break up with your boyfriend, get endless amounts of affection from Billie, and let her smother you with affection, both physically and verbally. As a friend.

That's what sucked. It was just a way of Billie being a good friend.

But since the breakup, she has been more touchy and affectionate than before. Of course, your delusional self saw it as one of Billie's many ways of flirting. But you were wrong. Billie just, in all honesty, casually likes hopping over the thin line between platonic and romantic. And it haunted you.

Now you were here, sitting on Billie's couch as she raved about one of her most recent hookups with some girl she met at her friend Charli's birthday party. And you sat there, head on hand, as she gidded about all the lust and enjoyment she got out of the hookup. A TV show playing the background you were planning to binge with Billie.

"I mean, it was great," Billie half-laughed out. "Definitely top five from now on."

"That's nice," You fake smiled, glancing over at the TV as the show played on the screen. Letting the sound of the dialogue flood your ears. Not wanting to hear about Billie and her hookup anymore. Jealousy eating you inside and out.

A small frown settled on Billie's lips as she watched you look away from her to the TV. "Why do you suddenly seem annoyed?" She questioned.

Billie had always been able to notice the slight changes in your mood towards her, whether they were negative or positive. She knew your body language well enough, that she easily picked up the signs.

You take a small breath in and looked back over at Billie, your eyes fluttering as they landed on hers. Your eyebrows raising in 'confusion', eyebrows furrowing as well, "I'm not ."

Lie. That was a lie. You were jealous. You hated hearing Billie constantly talk about her hookups all while you listened to her in silence and torture.

Billie's frown continued to deepen. She didn't believe your lie for a second. And that's why she leaned closer to you, her gaze never leaving you. "Bullshit," she bluntly called out, shaking her head.

Billie always knew when you were lying. You couldn't fool her. At least not the way you usually did with your other friends.

"Dude c'mon, I've known you long enough to know when you're lying," she added, letting herself scoot closer to you.

Her slender hand came in contact with your cheek, gently caressing the warm skin with her fingertips. She wanted your honest answer. Sacred what was going on through your mind. Worried for you. Like a true friend.

Just then your skin tingled at Billie's touch. It was a common gesture between the both of you. She'd always been touchy with you in that friend way and it never bothered you. Not fully. You just wished it was more than that friend way.

You then finally took a deep breath in at Billie's words. Your eyes hooded as they looked into hers. A small glimpse of sadness and tiredness laced all throughout them.

A pang of worry hit her gut as her eyes studied your expression. It was a mixture of sadness and exhaustion. She could practically feel the pain you were in. What pain? She didn't know. But still, she wanted to be there for you.

Billie's hand slid down from your cheek to your chin. She gently pinched her thumb and forefinger in order to raise your chin, so your gaze wouldn't stray from hers again.

Billie's features softened, her usual bright eyes looking at you with nothing but worry for you.

"You know you can always tell me the truth," Billie softly assured you. Her touch on your chin never faltered. In fact, it gently caressed your skin with her thumb.

It hurt Billie so much, to see those sad and tired eyes as they searched hers. She longed to know what you were thinking. What was making you feel that way? To figure out a way to make you feel better - maybe even smile.

She gently caressed your chin with her thumb, her eyes searching your face for any sign as to what was truly bothering you. But she was clueless. All she knew was that you were upset, and that hurt her the most.

"I know something's up," she spoke again, her tone soft and soothing.

Billie let go of your chin and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, her eyes never leaving your own.

Billie wasn't stupid. She could see the jealousy radiating off of you.

For a split second, you leaned into Billie's touch. Eyes closing for a moment and cherishing the moment. Her gentle touch was so delicate that when you leaned into it, her hand had no choice but to press up against your head with more force.

"I just-"

Your voice was gentle and low, cracking almost. You weren't on the verge of tears or anything, but the way your throat tightened and swelled as if you'd woken up with a cold said something differently.

Billie watched your expression as your eyes shut for a split second. The way you practically melted into her touch was something that always made her heart flutter.

Her hand stayed against your head, gently rubbing over your temple with her thumb. She was now patiently waiting for you to voice your thoughts, and she had all the time in the world for you.

"Just…?" she softly whispered, encouraging you to continue speaking.

Billie's eyes searched your face for anything that could hint what was going on in your mind. Her thumb continued to gently rub against your temple, trying to soothe any and all thoughts that were causing you to react the way you did.

She knew you. She knew your body language better than anyone else. And all the while, her heart ached at the fact that you were hurting. She hated seeing you in that way. And the fact that you won't say the reason why was killing her.

A quite half whine and sigh came from you. Your eyes now more noticeably showing sadness and fear behind them.

Was this really the time? Billie just finished raving about her 'amazing' hookup, and now here you are on the verge of confessing your love for your own best friend. She wasn't making it any easier either.

With the way her soft, gentle touch feathered across the skin on your temple and the way her eyes searched for any emotions in your body language and eye movement.

Just the way her whole demeanor changed just for you.

Billie's eyes continued to study your face, never straying anywhere else. Her heart felt like it was beating too fast.

She hated this. Hated how you looked so sad and fearful and how you weren't telling her what was wrong. She felt powerless. All she could do was sit and try to soothe you with her touch until you found your voice again.

Billie could feel the atmosphere change. The shift in your body language was very noticeable, and her eyes picked up on it in an instant. "Please, just talk to me," she softly pleaded.

"I can't."

At this point, your voice was scratchy and on the verge of cracking from how tight your throat formed from the emotions. Your eyes shut as soon as you said your words. Your face contorted into a fit of guilt and worry for what was to come in the next few moments.

Your breathing was now heavier and faster than before. Chest rising and sinking with vigorous speed. Face heating in Billie's touch. Mind hazy and blurred.

The more you spoke, the more concern and worry built up inside of Billie. She hated seeing you so torn and upset. Her heart nearly shattered apart when your voice cracked from the emotions.

Her thumb continued to rub over your temple gently, as if to soothe the guilt and worry that was etched on your face. Her other hand moved to hold your cheek, wanting to keep you grounded.

Billie could feel the emotions radiating off of you. She could see and sense the uneasiness and tension.

Billie's features hardened as she could see the look of guilt and worry cross your face with your squeezed shut eyes. She gently gripped your chin and pulled your face up, forcing you to open your eyes and look at her.

"Why can't you?" she softly demanded.

Your heart was pounding. And she knew that. She could feel it under her fingers that were gently pinched around your chin, holding your face steady.

Billie's eyes searched yours, almost pleading with you to tell her the reason why you were so hurt and guilty.

She didn't like this. She hated this. Hated seeing you in pain and not knowing how to fix it.

"Please, just tell me why," she whispered, her voice gentle and soft as her thumb began to rub gentle circles on your chin.

"I hate it when…"

You swallowed to try and make it easier for yourself to say what you wanted to say, but the swallowing only hurt and made your throat tighten up more.

"I hate it when you talk about your hookups."

Your gaze lowers onto your lap where your hands nervously fiddled with one another to soothe the tension in your body.

Billie's heart shattered at your words.

Of course. She should have known. Should have seen the signs.

Her grip on your chin tightened, slightly tilting your face back up so you were looking at her once more. Her eyes were wide as the realization hit her.

She was so dumb.

But she shouldn't have been surprised. All she could see now was the jealousy and sadness in your eyes, all because of the casual talks she had about her hookups with random girls.

Her eyes stayed fixed on your face. She could see how your body language showed tension from how you were fidgeting with your fingers in your lap.

Billie's thumb continued to gently rub your chin as she tried to get you to look at her again.

"Look at me," she firmly spoke, eyes darting all over your face.

"I..."

Billie's voice died in her throat. Her heart was now pounding as fast as yours was, and she was completely at a loss for words.

Everything suddenly made sense. The subtle looks of annoyance whenever she mentioned a hookup. The sad and exhausted look in your eyes. All the times she tried to coax an answer out of you but was met with "I'm not jealous."

Fresh tears began to pool in your eyes, slowly trickling down your cheeks. Billie's heart shattered once again.

Seeing you like that hurt. It hurt her more than she could even express. Her grip on your face softened, gently caressing your skin.

"No, no, no. Don't cry," she gently pleaded, bringing her other hand up to your face to try and wipe away your tears.

Billie's features now held a sorrowful look as she watched more tears glide down your red-tinted cheeks. She began to rub away at the tears on your face, trying her best to comfort you in any way she could.

"Please, don't cry," she repeated, her voice much softer this time. Her eyes continued to study your face, trying her best to decipher what you were thinking.

"I fucked up."

Your tone was regretful. You were regretful. You just threw away a friendship for the girl you loved the most and who cared for you the most, just because you caught feelings.

Now you were just annoyed with yourself as you cried. Aggressively tearing Billie's hands off your face and whipping the tears off your face so hard that it burned and was sure to leave red marks. It wasn't Billie's fault, but at the same time, it was.

Why did she have to be so perfect? So beautiful, caring, funny, and loving. Shit.

"Hey, hey," Billie quickly protested as you swatted her hands away from your face. Her expression hardened as she watched you roughly rub at your face.

Billie didn't know what to do. You had just roughly swatted at her hands, which was something you never did to her, and now you were practically rubbing at your face like you were trying to rid it.

She was stunned. Confused. Worried beyond measure. She had never seen you like this before.

"Y/N. Look at me," she firmly demanded.

Billie gently gripped your wrists in order to get you to stop rubbing at your face. Her grip was firm but gentle. She wasn't going to let you bruise or hurt yourself any further.

The concern was obvious in her voice as she spoke, eyes never leaving your own.

"Stop. Look at me. Now."

And so you did. Your face burned as your hands were pulled away from the aggressive actions. Your breathing was fast and uneven.

Panic and anxiety pooling throughout your mind and body. Your hands were shaking ever so slightly in Billie's hands out of worry.

You looked into Billie's eyes with a look of sorrow and fright.

You didn't want to lose her. You wanted her. You needed her.

Billie could feel your hands shaking in her grip, the subtle tremors telling her just how worried and scared you were.

Your facial expression broke her heart, seeing you look so frightened and saddened all because of her.

She couldn't stand seeing you like this anymore. Seeing you in such distraught all because of something she did. Even if she didn't realize it hurt you so much. She just wanted to soothe you and tell you it would be okay.

"Y/N," she softly spoke, gently rubbing her thumbs over your wrists.

And in that moment, Billie looked at you with so much worry and empathy. It was literally living proof that she had to have felt sort of the same way.

She was perfect for you.

Billie's all you ever needed.

It was quiet, the background noise of the TV was the only thing heard along with both of your breathing. You don't know why you did it, but you surged forward.

Your lips ended up on Billie's. They were soft and sweet. It felt like a warm embrace. And you needed more.

The sudden kiss caught her off guard as your lips landed on her own.

Billie swore her heart stopped.

For a few seconds, she couldn't bring herself to respond. But then, as she felt you press against her more, her body took over, acting on its own.

Billie's brain finally registered what was happening, the events finally setting in.

You were kissing her.

And she couldn't bring herself to pull away.

Billie's hands let go of your wrists in order to move to your waist, gently pulling you into her lap. She needed you even closer.

Billie slowly tilted her head more to the side in order to deepen the kiss, trying to get more of you. Your lips were so smooth and soft against her own, and the way you pressed up against her had her head feel fuzzy.

Her hand traveled to gently grip your chin in order to tilt your head down, a perfect angle for her to deepen the kiss even further.

Billie's heart was beating faster. It was going at a speed that was way too fast, her body was practically quivering with excitement in your presence.

She continued to meet your eager movements with her own, tongue slipping out to tease against the seam of your lips. Begging entrance.

A moan slipped past your lips into the kiss. Not out of lust. But out of satisfaction. And eagerness.

Your hands rested on her shoulders, gripping harshly and not wanting to let go. One hand travelling to the back of her head to scrunch her hair in between your fingers.

"I love you."

Your voice was whiny and desperate. You needed Billie to know.

Billie's breath hitched at the sound of the moan coming from you. The little noise alone sent a chill down her spine.

She couldn't stop the low whimper that escaped her own throat with your soft, yet rough, grip in her hair and on her shoulders. And when she felt the words of love come from your lips, her entire body shivered.

"Say it again," she murmured against your lips, her grip on your waist tightening somewhat as she pulled you closer to her.

"I love you."

Your body was hot, and your lips were eagerly molding into Billie's. Your hand on her tightened as the words left your lips.

Tongue tracing along her bottom lip, waiting to be let into where you both needed each other most.

The sound of you repeating those three words again had her entire body going weak. It was all she wanted to hear from you. The one thing she was too scared to ask for.

But you were right here. In her lap. Begging her with your tongue.

Billie quickly granted your mouth access, granting your tongue with entrance between her lips. Her own tongue quickly tangled with yours, relishing the sweetness and heat of your mouth.

Billie's hands moved from your waist, her hands roaming over your body eagerly. She needed to touch you. She needed to feel every inch of you. To feel the heat of your body and the sound of every sweet moan coming from your lips.

Her brain was hazy and fuzzy. All she could focus on was how you felt against her. How you tasted and sounded and felt.

Her hands continued to grip you tightly, not wanting to let you go. Her heart was pounding, and her mind was going fuzzy as she continued to kiss you. It was like nothing she had ever felt before.

She had never wanted a kiss so badly. Never craved someone's touch so much. You were the sweetest, hottest, best thing she's ever had.

Billie pulled back, her eyes taking in your appearance for a few quick moments. Then, without warning, she began to kiss at your jaw and neck.

A scratchy moan slipped past your lips as you separated from her lips. Her lips are wet and harsh on your skin. It's exactly all you've ever wanted. Needed.

Billie continued to kiss at your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, desperate to hear more sounds from you. She needed to know how much you wanted her as much as she wanted you.

Her hands gripped your hips tight, holding you in place so you wouldn't pull away from her.

"Are you mine? Please. Tell me." she quietly whispered against your skin, the neediness in her voice hard to hide. It came out in a moan. She was hot and desperate. You had no choice but to whine in response.

"Yes."

You'd never sounded more desperate and eager to please her. You wanted her to know that you were hers. You wanted her to know that you were hers to please.

To destroy.

To love.

The simple yet firm word coming from your lips satisfied her more than anything. Hearing you agree that you were hers had butterflies in her stomach.

"You're mine," she continued to murmur against your skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses behind as she went.

She wanted to mark you, leave behind proof that you belonged to her. "All mine, all mine," she repeated again, her voice becoming possessive.

Her mouth continued its assault on your neck and jawline. She left love bites of different sizes, covering most of the skin she could reach. She wanted you to wake up the next day and notice the marks with pride. She wanted you to see just how much you were loved, and she wanted others to see just how taken you were.

Billie's teeth gently grazed over your sweet spot, her tongue darting out to tease the sensitive skin.

Your mind was hazy and hot with all the attention. Your core throbbed from the attention. The cloth that covered your core grew damp and uncomfortably sticky with Billie's doings.

Billie's mouth continued to kiss and suck at your neck, her tongue licking and teasing the sensitive skin. The little gasps and moans she was drawing out of you were driving her crazy.

She could feel the heat coming from you, and it was driving her mad. The thought of you wanting and needing her as bad as she wanted and needed you had her heart racing.

Billie leaned back from your neck to get a look at your face. Her eyes landed on you, drinking in your flushed expression.

Both of your breathing was heavy as you both locked eyes. Lust, love, and eagerness lacing through the two of y'all's eyes.

As Billie took in your expression, she swore that her heart skipped a beat. All she saw in your eyes was raw, pure lust and love.

She couldn't tear her gaze from your own, and the heavy breaths that came from the both of you only added to the feeling of tension.

Billie's hands began to glide up and down your sides, needing to touch more of you. Her fingers gently pressed into your rib cage, as if she didn't want to let you go.

She wanted you closer, more. She needed to be connected with you. To see how you felt.

"I need you," she breathed, her eyes never leaving yours. "I need you, all of you."

"Have me."

Please.

"Take me."

Yes. It came out of your mouth just as you wanted it to.

Needy. Hot. Truthfully.

It was like a cry and plea for Billie to please you and reassure you that all the two of you needed were each other.

"I will, I will," she breathlessly repeated as she looked at you. Her fingers tightened around your waist, gripping the flesh as the need in her voice took over.

She was desperate. So, so, desperate for you.

Without warning, Billie swiftly picked you up in her arms and turned you around, now with you on your back and her hovering above.

Billie's knee was now between your legs and pushing up. Her body now pressed completely against yours, their chests only separated by a thin layer of fabric.

She was close. So close. And all she wanted to do was feel you. Every inch. Every part. All of you was for her to have. And no one else's.

Billie leaned down, the tip of her nose gently grazing along the skin of your neck once again.

As she teased her way across your skin, your hands trailed between the two of you, and you started unbuttoning Billie's pants. Your nails scrape softly against the skin just below her belly button.

Your knuckles being met with her soft, warm skin.

A small gasp escaped her lips at your cold fingers and nails gently scraping over her belly. Her skin instantly prickled with a set of goosebumps at the feeling. It made her shiver.

But she didn't protest your actions.

Billie wanted this just as much as you did.

She continued to gently nibble and kiss at your neck as she felt her pants being unbuttoned, letting you do as you wanted.

While you were hers.

She was also yours.

Her body leaned forward more, her knee now pushing directly between your legs. The slight pleasure now shooting up through your core.

Billie was going crazy, and all you did was undo her pants. She needed you.

Billie slowly started traveling her kisses down the side of your neck, her tongue slowly tracing your collar bone before she continued her descent.

Billie's pants were now unbuttoned but that's all your hands could manage to do. You laid there panting as she kissed her way down your body.

You felt Billie's hands come into contact with the hem of your shorts, slowly pulling them down. Her cold rings splaying on your warm skin.

Her hands pulled down the hem of your shorts, revealing more of the pale skin of your legs. Her calloused hands gently gripping the skin of your thighs as she continued to kiss further down your chest and stomach.

Slowly, she pulled your shorts the rest of the way down, leaving you only in your underwear. Billie sat up for a moment, taking in the sight of your body.

Your skin so smooth, and your form so perfect. She was in love.

Billie's hands gently massaged along the inside of your thighs, her fingers tracing over the skin softly.

She then glanced up at your face, a smirk now on her lips. "God, you're so beautiful like this," she whispered, her hands trailing their way further up the inside of your thighs.

You looked at Billie with so much love and lust. You loved the way her eyes scanned your body. The way she adored everything she saw.

Billie continued to look at you, never glancing away. "So pretty Y/N." she said.

Her fingers reached the hem of your underwear and started to gently pull the material down.

"All mine," she then repeated under her breath, as if it was more of a reminder to herself.

With one hand on your hip and the other on your thigh, she leaned down and began tracing open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thighs.

Billie wanted to feel and taste every inch of you. She wanted to know how sweet you were.

And she was going to find out.

As she lowered her head between your thighs, you held her head gently. Looking down at her with so much love. So much adoration.

The kisses continued to travel up your thigh, making their way closer and closer to where you wanted her most.

Billie's free hand continued to gently massage your thigh, her fingers tracing little patterns into the skin while she took her time getting closer.

"I love you," she muttered against your leg, the words coming out rough and desperate.

"Billie," You whined softly, looking down at her. Wanting and needing her mouth on your core.

Your whimpers sent a shiver up her spine. She loved the way you said her name. The way it came out as though it was the only word you could speak.

Billie wanted to draw more of those sounds out of you, and it seemed she was getting exactly what she wanted.

Her kisses only continued to travel higher, getting closer and closer.

"Be patient," she said, her voice low and soft against your skin.

And soon, finally, her mouth was where you wanted it the most.

Her tongue gently licked your core, tracing around the sensitive skin. Her free hand gently slid over your thigh, her fingers digging into the flesh.

Billie was going crazy. You tasted so sweet. Better than how she could have imagined. She loved the way you squirmed and gasped and gasped her name.

Her tongue continued to lick and explore, finding all the places that made you gasp the loudest.

She needed to hear more. Needed to feel more of you on her mouth.

Between the sweetness and the heat, she was losing herself. Everything was getting blurry. All she could focus on was you.

You couldn't help but let a cry out at the pleasure. Her wet mouth sucked and swirled on your throbbing core.

The sounds of her wet, lewd actions filled the room along with your moans.

She separated from your core for a split second and looked up at you with her beautiful blue eyes you fell in love with.

"I love you."

'I love you too."

‧₊˚✩彡

fer yaps!!!

yay!

#eilishsmuse #billie eilish #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x reader

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nerdallwritey · 6 months ago

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Just to Ruin Me

Summary: “You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.” “It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.” “If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.” Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.” “Doing what?” “Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.” OR The morning after you spend the night with Astarion, you learn another thing or two.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 12.5k CW: smut, reader is new to sex, piv sex, vaginal fingering, dry humping, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, mild angst, soft Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), the other companions are also idiots, but don't piss of Shadowheart Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 2 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find Part 1 here. Find the masterlist here.

a/n: Thanks to everyone who read Part 1!!! Your kind comments and encouragement spurred me to write Part 2 and I hope it's a sequel that lives up to expectations!! I know the summary is a little angsty, but I promise there's more banter to be had. Everyone is still a goof, after all. Please enjoy :) (Thank you to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) As a reminder, the last part ended with the following few lines: “For now, you were content to sleep under the stars in Astarion’s arms. It was the best sleep you’d ever had.”

Taglist: @a66-1 @khaleesiofthewolves @khywren @lollipopsandlandmines @minestrones

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best sleep you’d ever had.

Though you’d grown accustomed to roughing it in the last few weeks since the nautiloid crash, waking up in the forest was still a shock. It had its charms, sure, like the fresh air and the breeze blowing in off the mountains, but the appeal was starting to wane. Especially after one too many nights of having to take a dip in the frigid lake next to camp to rid yourself of gnoll blood.

This morning however, you found yourself surrounded by blankets and pillows from your camp in the middle of a clearing surrounded by large pine trees, all of which had been thoughtfully arranged by the figure trancing beside you. Your own sleeping figure sighed comfortably, unbothered by the lack of a mattress or a hot bath, just a nice deep sleep-

Astarion whacked you in the face.

Your eyes shot open.

“OW?” You scrunched your nose and blinked a few times to get your bearings.

It was still dark. The forest around you was painted a delicate shade of periwinkle. You’d hazard a guess that it was just a little before dawn.

At some point in the night, you’d rolled onto your back, away from Astarion, who was now curled to your right, his back facing you. He must have just rolled over, explaining the harsh wake up from his forearm. You smiled softly and instinctively brought your hand to rub your forehead where he’d made the unfortunate contact.

Blinking a little more, your eyes were beginning to adjust. From this angle, you had a clear line of sight to the large scar that overran a majority of his back. You squinted in the dark to try and get a clearer view of the terrible thing, but came up short due to the shadows of tree branches being cast from above. Still just a mandala of jagged lines and brutal curves. When you got your hands on Cazador, you’d…

No.

No, that wasn’t your fight.

But you’d be gods damned if you wouldn’t be there for every bloody moment Astarion faced him, giving support however you could. Though you had to admit that it would be so gratifying to corner the bastard and cast a quick little Otto’s Irresistible Dance… Assuming you’d be strong enough to cast it by then… Gods, he’d look so fucking stupid just before Astarion plunged a knife through his heart-

Enough. Battle strategies and sick, twisted (but satisfying) revenge fantasies later. Right now you noticed that the shifting of the shadows on his back wasn’t from a breeze shaking the branches above you, but because Astarion himself was trembling.

Your first instinct was to reach out and touch him, but you quickly retracted your hand. Based on the short whimpers he was letting out, it seemed like he was having a nightmare.

How was one supposed to wake someone from a nightmare again? With Astarion you’d have to be extra careful; you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d stowed a knife somewhere within these blankets that he might reach for in a surge of waking fear.

That… would not be pleasant.

You shifted to sit up and look around.

Ow.

A dull throbbing made itself known between your legs.

No, that was great. Spectacular, in fact. You’d have to stop and assess later.

Gingerly, you got onto your knees and peered around at your surroundings. Astarion had done a decent job of cleaning up the clearing to make room for this blanket nest, so there wasn’t a poking stick to be seen within reaching distance.

Not that you were going to poke him with a stick… but the thought had crossed your mind. You were still tired! You’d been fucked for the first time last night! There was a lot going on!

You shook your head to clear the stupid overlapping thoughts and set to looking around for a wayward pillow. You spotted one in the far corner and made your way over to it carefully but with some haste to end Astarion’s unconscious suffering.

You crawled back over to him. And then backed up a little. Just in case.

“Astarion,” you sang quietly.

Astarion continued trembling, but you heard him inhale sharply. A good sign?

You raised your voice a little, but kept the same musical cadence. “Astaaaarioooon.”

Nothing.

Okay fine.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, then threw the pillow at Astarion, hitting him squarely on the back of the head. You leaned forward to grab your own pillow as a protective shield as he gasped and shot up.

“What the hells? What’s happening?” Astarion rolled onto his back and frantically looked around until his eyes landed on you.

You smiled sheepishly and waved at him lamely from behind your pillow. “Hi.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes, confused. He shook his head, then lifted a hand to the back of his head where the pillow had hit him. “What did you do?”

“You were having a nightmare.”

“Oh, I know what I was doing,” his tone was sarcastic. “What were you doing?”

You looked down at your lap, guilty. “I couldn’t remember how to wake someone up from a nightmare.”

“So you assaulted me?”

“I didn’t know if you had a knife!”

“Why would I have a knife? What is happening?!” He sat up fully and brought a hand to his forehead as if he were in pain.

“Are you okay?”

“Thankfully, I’ll live,” he opened his eyes and looked at you, his hand still on his forehead.

You huffed. “I meant with the nightmare.”

Astarion sighed and closed his eyes again. “It’s far too early to discuss this.” He tilted his head up towards the sky, which was getting brighter with every passing moment. A practiced smirk appeared on his face and he looked at you once more. “I’d much rather know if you’re okay, darling.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“We had a lot of fun last night, didn’t we?”

“Seeing as how I’m always a lot of fun, I don’t understand why you’re posing this question.” You looked down your nose at him.

He hung his head and sighed exasperatedly. “Will you simply allow me to work my charms on you?”

You tutted. “Is that what you were trying to do just now?”

“Attempting to, yes.” Astarion crossed his arms. “I’m usually irresistible.”

You snorted. “Okay,” you said, a small smile appearing on your face. “I’m going to ignore your lack of an answer about your nightmare and will elect to wait until you’re ready to tell me about it yourself.”

Astarion pursed his lips.

“But go ahead,” you rearranged your legs, wincing mildly as you moved to sit cross legged, “charm me.”

A look of worry flashed over Astarion’s face when he saw you wince, but the concern was quickly overtaken by an all too self-satisfied grin. “Feeling it this morning, are we?”

You rolled your eyes. “I knew you’d be happy about this.”

“Positively delighted, my sweet.” He leaned forward and kissed you gently, bringing a hand up to your cheek. You brought your own hand up to lay against his. He pulled away and appraised your face smugly. “I was completely enamored by your performance last night.” You were about to open your mouth to say something, but Astarion interrupted. “Don’t even think about mentioning that you’re a bard and that of course you’re good at performing, or something like that.”

You closed your mouth. You were going to say something like that. Instead you said, “You were pretty good yourself.”

He brought his hands up to make air quotes. “I’ve ‘ruined you,’ from what I recall.”

You groaned. “I just said that to make you cum.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, my dear.” His face was still smug, but he motioned for you to come closer. You scooted forward and he lifted you slightly to sit on his lap.

He leaned up and kissed you deeply, his tongue swiping your bottom lip for entrance. You moaned in response and opened your mouth for him. Though the rest of his body was cold, his mouth was warm and inviting, and you leaned in further to try and get closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tilted your head slightly to get a better angle. You’d been mildly distracted last night; had he always smelled this good?

When Astarion pulled back suddenly, you couldn’t help the whine that escaped at the loss. He hummed in satisfaction, and his voice was low and seductive when he spoke.

“Every part of your perfect body whispers temptations-”

You giggled. “What?”

“Shush dear, I’m charming you.” He cleared his throat, “-it’s as if the gods made you just to ruin me.”

“So now I’ve ruined you?” You raised your eyebrows teasingly.

“Wait, no-”

You leaned your forehead onto his and laughed. “And that one usually works?”

He blew out a puff of air. “You’re an unusual one, I’ll give you that.”

You shrugged, pleased with yourself.

“But yes,” Astarion continued, “I’ve made plenty of previous lovers swoon with that particular line.”

“Show me what else you’ve got, then,” you challenged.

Astarion tilted his head in thought. “Let’s see… I can’t use the ‘cried from your lips’ line because I used that one last night…” You scoffed joyfully, mockingly scandalized that he’d already used a line on you. He met your eye and smirked. “How about this one: When I’m with you, I feel practically alive, yet I crave only to die again, with you.”

The sultry tone of his voice did send a pang of want through your body, reminding you that you were only wearing Astarion’s shirt and nothing else. You shifted uncomfortably.

“How romantic,” you said, trying to keep your voice nonchalant. “I didn’t think you liked dying the first time.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes, sensing your deflection and smirked, looking down at where you sat on his lap. He rolled his hips, which made you inhale sharply. “I see that one did do something for you,” he leaned forward and kissed your neck.

You exhaled slowly, “I blame that stupid sexy voice of yours.”

Astarion growled against your throat and you shivered, bringing your hands up to his back.

“Astarion,” you sighed and he hummed in response, licking over the twin wounds he’d left the night before. You sat up a little straighter. “Wait.”

He immediately pulled back and looked at you with concern. “What is it?”

“I just thought of something,” you said.

Astarion raised his eyebrows and nodded, wanting you to continue.

“Can I borrow your fangs?”

“My-?” His tongue instinctively flicked over his teeth.

“Because I want to leave a lasting impression on you,” you tilted your head at him to show off the marks he’d left on your throat. You shimmied your shoulders a little for good measure.

“I’m leaving,” Astarion made to get up with you still on his lap and you laughed loudly.

“No! No! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I wanted to try a dumb line on you, too!” You threw your arms around his neck and hid your face in his shoulder. You felt him kiss your hair.

“You’re lucky I don’t travel with you for your personality,” he joked.

“I’d say ‘I’m a lot of fun’ again but I think you’d actually stop talking to me.” You pulled back to look at him.

“And you’d be right.” He kissed you chastely and then adjusted you on his lap. You winced a little again and he looked genuinely sympathetic. “I might have a way to ease the pain from last night,” he said. “Do you trust me?”

You smiled at him. “Yes.”

He smiled back. “Good.” He positioned your arms over his shoulders. “Hang on, my love.” You crossed your arms where they hung behind him and waited to see what he would do.

Without warning, you felt one of his cold fingers slide through your folds. You hissed at the sensation and looked at Astarion.

“Supposedly, massaging the area can help,” he was trying to sound knowledgeable, but the look in his eyes was one full of lust. Then he tutted, looking down. “You could be wetter, darling.” His thumb began to circle your clit.

Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, and you leaned forward again to rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“Do you want my cock again, love? You took me so well last night, I was so proud of you,” he’d moved his mouth next to your ear and was speaking with the same sultry tone that he had a minute ago. You whimpered at his praise and rolled your hips to get his thumb to press you harder. Astarion let out a low groan. “That’s it, you’re getting so wet for me, you’re so good.”

After a few more tight circles, you practically sobbed when you felt him take his thumb away from your clit.

“Shh, shh, I know,” he cooed, “but we want you to feel better, remember?”

You let out a frustrated sound. “I already was feeling better.”

Astarion chuckled. “Trust me, would you? Impatient.” His tone was nothing but fond.

His other fingers began massaging the area around your entrance. You winced and bit your lip.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” you confirmed. “I assume this will get better?”

“That’s the idea,” he kissed your ear and you nodded against his shoulder.

You rolled your hips, attempting to get friction where you needed it.

“Just a little longer,” Astarion said, moving his fingers gently around your cunt.

You hummed an acknowledgement and kept rolling your hips, trying to combat this weird form of edging that was happening.

Finally, Astarion ceased his massaging and brought his thumb back to your clit. You let out a long shuddering breath and squeezed your eyes tight, adjusting your hips to roll against his thigh.

“There you go, my love,” Astarion said, voice still in your ear. “I’ll make you cum for behaving so well.”

You whined loudly as his thumb picked up the pace. You began rolling your hips at an equally fast pace. “More,” you whined, willing your climax to approach faster.

“Not right now, darling. Let’s give you a break there, shall we?” Astarion used his free hand to pet your hair.

“But you asked if I wanted your cock again,” you whined.

“And while I’m pleased to hear that you’d like it again, let’s relax and get you off like this for now, okay?”

You groaned but nodded, squeezing your eyes shut again and focusing on the pleasure Astarion was currently providing. “Harder,” you instructed.

Astarion pressed down harder on your clit with his thumb. He swept his index and middle finger through your folds, coating them in your slick. He quickly swapped those fingers with his thumb, changing the sensation by swapping one finger for two and adding more of your arousal to the mix.

You keened and gripped his bicep. “Harder!” You instructed again, desperate and approaching the edge. You could feel the coil in your stomach preparing to let go.

Astarion pushed again and brought his lips to your ear once more.

“I just thought of something, precious thing,” he murmured.

You blinked at him, your eyes unfocused and half lidded.

“More of a question, really,” he clarified.

You squeezed your eyes tight, nodding. You were on the precipice of your orgasm and could feel it fastly approaching. You slammed your hips against Astarion’s thigh as he continued to rub your clit brutally.

“Do you believe in love at first bite?” He leaned forward and kissed your throat, then began to suck a new mark into the flesh there. Contrary to his pun, he wouldn’t drink from you without your expressed permission first.

It did, however, send you crashing over the edge. You moaned loudly, Astarion’s name tumbling repeatedly out of your mouth. The vision behind your eyelids was white and you reached out blindly to grip Astarion’s shoulders. His lips detached themselves from your throat and found your own. His tongue was immediately in your mouth, swallowing your moans and shouts of his name.

When you came down, you disconnected from the kiss and opened your eyes, a lopsided grin on your face.

“Thank you,” you said. “I do feel better.”

Astarion smirked. “I knew you would.” He brought his fingers, still coated in your essence, up to his mouth and sucked them clean. You watched, mesmerized by the way his cheeks hollowed and his eyes fluttered shut. He pulled them out with a lewd pop. “Delicious.”

You felt your face flush, embarrassed by his display, despite just cumming in his lap.

“You shouldn’t feel embarrassed about this,” Astarion said, reading your expression immediately. “What you should feel embarrassed about is the fact that you came because I told a joke.”

“I did not!” You protested.

“You absolutely did,” Astarion said. “And it was a particularly bad one, too.” He clicked his tongue. “You must feel so ashamed.”

You groaned. “I came because you started kissing my neck!”

Astarion raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing you. “It’s okay, darling, no one here was under the impression that you aren’t incredibly lame.” He gave you a pitying look, then kissed your nose and you laughed. He pulled back and looked at you fondly, a dopey half smile on his face. Then he looked up at the sky.

The periwinkle you’d awoken to was now vibrant shades of orange and pink.

“Are you okay if I move you?” Astarion asked.

“Um… sure?” You weren’t sure why he was asking, and helped to move yourself off of him. You did feel a bit less sore thanks to his help.

He stood up and stretched his arms over his head, then bent to pick up a rag to wipe off his pants.

“Sorry,” you said.

Astarion shook his head. “Comes with the territory.” You were about to make a joke but he held up a finger and gave you a warning look. “Don’t.”

You held up your hands innocently.

He tossed you the rag after and then your pants and underthings.

“Clean up,” he instructed, “then get dressed.”

You furrowed your brows, your stomach dropping suddenly. He didn’t expect you to leave right now, did he? He hadn’t fucked you last night, then brought you more pleasure this morning, only for him to send you back to camp like it hadn’t happened, right?

Astarion snorted. He was watching you as he slipped on his shoes. “Relax, darling, I see that face. I just want to show you something.” He held out a hand to help you up.

“Okay,” you smiled, soothed by the pleasant look on his face. “Do you want your shirt back?” You made to lift it over your head.

“Keep it for now, dear,” Astarion said. “I rather like that on you, truthfully.” The collar was slipping off your shoulder as you pulled on your pants, and you made no move to adjust it, opting not to put your bra back on yet.

“Do you want to wear my shirt?” you teased.

“Tempting, but I fear I’d look better in it than you do.”

“Excellent point, don’t do that.” You adjusted the ruffles on Astarion’s shirt and felt a light breeze on your cleavage through the lacey opening at the collar.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he said. You looked up and caught Astarion staring at your chest.

You laughed as he cleared his throat, then gestured deeper into the woods with his head. “This way.” He held out a tentative hand and you took it eagerly, bringing the back of his palm up to your face to leave a gentle kiss. Astarion squeezed your hand slightly at the contact, and began heading further into the forest, away from camp. A pleasant silence hung between the two of you and you rubbed your thumb absently along the back of his hand.

It wasn’t long before the trees started to thin and you heard the sound of rushing water somewhere close by. You emerged from the trees to find a cliff overlooking a ravine below. On the other side of the ravine was more forest, and beyond that, you could faintly see the Sea of Swords. The sun peeked out over the horizon, bright reddish orange in the distance. Its glow was a welcome sight and you found yourself in awe of the view.

Astarion let go of your hand and sat, dangling his feet over the edge of the cliff. You hesitantly stepped forward and sat beside him, opting instead to sit with one knee up, the other leg crossed beneath it. Astarion sat back on his arms. The sun reflected off his skin in the most beautiful golden and magenta hues. His hair, somehow still perfect despite your night together, was being jostled lightly by the breeze. He’d closed his eyes and tipped his head up, basking. You couldn’t help watching him as you rested your cheek on your bent knee.

He didn’t open his eyes when he said, “I try to come out here every morning.”

You sat in silence, continuing to watch him as you prepared to listen to whatever he’d say next.

“After two hundred years in darkness, you forget how lovely the sunrise is,” he said. “I don’t ever want to miss another.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like,” you said softly.

Astarion hummed in acknowledgment and opened his eyes. “I’d catch glimpses while lurking around the city for too long before dawn, hopping from shadow to shadow until I made it back to Cazador’s manor.” His eyes didn’t waver from the sun in the distance. “But there were moments where I’d catch a glimpse of it over the Chionthar.” His tone became sardonic. “The promise of a new day emerging! Something that I would never get to participate in.” He sighed. “I’d linger as long as I could in those moments.”

You nodded, picturing a hopeful Astarion hiding behind buildings and in alleys, trying to get a fleeting look at a phenomenon that occurred every day, one that you took for granted. Your heart ached for him.

He continued. “I never quite told you what Cazador made his spawn do for him.”

You tried to recall what Astarion had said to you before. Only that he’d been made to go out into the city and bring back “the most beautiful souls” he could find. Then Cazador would make him either drink from a disgusting dead rat, or abuse him for refusing. The thought made you visibly shudder.

“I know that you had to bring people back to-” you lowered your voice, as if saying his name might summon him, “-Cazador, against your will. And that he’d kill them.”

Astarion nodded his head once, remorsefully. “I never told you how we lured them.”

You could see pain etched into his features. You reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. He flinched a bit at the contact, but settled when he looked over at you.

“You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.”

“It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.”

“If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.”

Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.”

You cocked your head sympathetically. “And I take it two hundred years as a slave hasn’t really afforded you any choice.”

“Correct,” he sighed. “As a spawn, your vampiric master has complete control over your body and your actions. Even in moments where I wanted to defy or fight back, I was powerless to do anything.”

Your heart jumped into your throat. You hadn’t realized that was how it worked. Having no control over yourself or your actions sounded like a complete nightmare and you were glad that you’d hopefully never have to experience it. Knowing that that had been Astarion’s entire existence for the past two centuries made you sick to your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” you said, just as you’d said the last few times he’d shared glimpses of his past.

Astarion’s eyes were closed once again as he inhaled deeply, then exhaled. He continued to bask in the rising sun for a few silent moments and you watched as it slowly rose higher into the sky.

“That nightmare I had,” he said, his voice coming out quiet, “I’ve had it before.”

Again, you said nothing and waited for him to continue.

“I actually had the same one the night you let me drink your blood for the first time.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me that drinking my blood was some sort of revenge plot against me for haunting your nightmares.”

Astarion smiled a little. “No, it wasn’t about you. It was about Cazador.”

“You know, I’m really starting to dislike this guy,” you said, knowing how difficult this was for him and trying to keep his mood up with another little joke.

“You and me both,” he sounded tired. “In the dream, I’m in the forest. Cazador appears and recites the rules of being his vampire spawn.” He held up his hand and recounted them on his fingers: “‘First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures. Second, thou shall obey me in all things. Third, thou shalt not leave my side, unless directed. Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine.’”

You listened patiently as Astarion recited each rule almost mechanically. You scrunched your nose with each passing instruction and rolled your eyes dramatically when Astarion finished.

“What a prick.”

He smiled again. “With an archaic speech pattern.”

“I was going to mention his archaic speech pattern.”

The smile faded slowly as Astarion returned to his thoughts. “The dream ends with Cazador telling me I’m his forever. That I can never escape.”

You let the words hang in the air for a moment. “And yet, here you are.”

“Here I am,” he said humorlessly. He laid down fully on his back, the sun high enough to bathe him completely in its glow. He rested his arms behind his head and angled himself to look at you. “I realized, if I could walk in the sun, what other vampiric laws could I break?”

You looked down at him, admiring the light glinting off his bare chest. “So you decided to test your theory on me? I’m touched.” You held a hand to your chest, pretending to be deeply moved.

“In all honesty, I thought you were the least likely to kill me if I got caught.” He smirked at you. “And it would seem I was right.”

“I wouldn’t have let any of the others kill you,” you said firmly.

Astarion chuckled. “How sweet. My brave little protector.” He reached over to pinch your cheek.

You swatted him away. “Hey, who saved your ass from a bugbear yesterday?”

He shrugged. “I would have been fine.”

You leaned forward and shoved him lightly, making him laugh and throw his arm forward as a shield.

When his laughter died down, his face grew a touch more serious again. “When you so graciously assaulted me this morning, he’d just finished telling me rule number three; that I can’t leave him unless he tells me to.”

You thought for a moment. “Which begs the question,” Astarion looked over at you expectantly, “how did you end up out here? From what I recall, the sun was still out when the nautiloid reached the Gate. You didn’t have the tadpole yet, so how’d you escape?”

“I wouldn’t say it was much of an escape.” His eyes shifted up to the sky, his expression thoughtful. “I was looking for new victims for Cazador. It was dusk and I had just been given the order to go out and hunt. I was weaving through shadows, avoiding the setting sun, but there’s only so many places one can hide from a giant tentacle that won’t burn you to a crisp. One of the tentacles caught me when I attempted to flee down an alleyway. A complete accident.”

“If it helps, I tripped while running away.”

“Of course you did.” He sighed. “Figures it would take an alien invasion to finally free me from his clutches. Not some,” he waved his hands in the air, gesturing to nothing in particular, “heroic figure sent by the gods to save me and smite that horrible man down to somewhere further and more vile than the Nine Hells.” His hands fell ungracefully to his sides.

He wasn’t wrong. How could any god worth their salt claim to be holier than thou when such suffering was occuring right under their noses? And you were pretty sure, based on tales you’d heard of Mystra and Shar from Gale and Shadowheart, that the gods hadn’t planned for the nautiloids or the rise of the Absolute. Yet if it weren’t for any of that, Astarion would still be trapped in Baldur’s Gate and your adventure thus far would have looked very different.

“If I’d known, I would have done something,” you said, knowing it was more complicated than that, but still wanting to help somehow.

“Darling, if I’d met you in Baldur’s Gate, I would not have hesitated to take you to Cazador.”

That hurt.

You said as much. “Ouch.”

“Well,” he sounded angry, though he directed it up towards the sky and not at you, “I wouldn’t have had a choice! Sure, it would have been a little novel, given how inexperienced you are, but regardless, I would have handed you off to him as soon as I’d made you finish.”

Ah. So that was how he lured people. It made sense, now that you put the pieces together; Astarion was so experienced because he had to be. Of course unsuspecting victims would fall prey to the allure of an eternally beautiful vampire, especially the one laying next to you. Of course the promise of pleasure from someone that sexy would be the obvious thing to agree to. It was a wonder your paths had never crossed before the nautiloid.

“Once,” Astarion broke the silence that had fallen between you, his tone distant, “in the first decade of my slavery, I found a darling boy who I couldn’t bear to bring back to him.” He finally looked over at you, his eyes full of sadness. “So I ran, instead of hurting that sweet man.”

You reached for his hand, then thought better of it. All his snide “don’t touch me’s” on the road now held a new, terrible weight.

“After Cazador caught me, the bastard sealed me, starving, inside a dusty tomb, all on my own, for an entire year. A year of silence”

A hand flew to your mouth. “Astarion…” you felt your eyes begin to prick with tears and did your best to will them away, fearing that they might make Astarion stop sharing.

He went on. “Months of scratching my hands raw, trying to carve my way out, more months of not moving at all. Months wishing only for death.” He took a deep breath, then blew it out shakily. “So no, I wouldn’t have hesitated, had we crossed paths.”

You opened and closed your mouth several times, attempting to find words that could possibly compose an appropriate response to the horrors you currently refused to picture. “I have no words,” is what you finally settled on, followed by an, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing can make up for that,” he said quietly. “Not even Cazador’s death.” He paused. “Well, it would help a little, but the coward deserves a fate worse than death.”

“Can I hug you?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself.

Astarion blinked a few times, then sat up. “What?”

“I just… you’ve been through such hell and I want to hug you, but I don’t want to touch you without your permission.”

He looked you up and down and saw the sincerity evident on your face. “I… suppose.” He pulled his legs up from where they were still dangling above the ravine and turned to face you head on.

“Thank you,” you said, still attempting to keep your tears at bay.

You leaned forward and weaved your arms beneath Astarion’s, hooking your arms up and placing your hands on his shoulder blades. You settled your face between his neck and shoulder and could feel that his arms were frozen rigidly in place in front of him. You took a shaky breath and stayed still, allowing Astarion to move at his own pace.

His arms finally settled around you and he bent his head so his cheek rested against your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, relishing in the other’s closeness. You moved your hands back and forth across his back absently. When you caught yourself, you pulled back to look at him and asked, “Is it okay that I’m touching your back?”

Astarion chuckled softly. “Yes, my dear. It’s rather nice, actually.”

You smiled and nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck. Seriously, did he always smell this good?

Despite the pleasant distraction, something was nagging at your thoughts.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmured into his skin.

Astarion sighed dramatically. “If it has anything to do with my fangs, I’ll rip your throat out.”

You snickered to yourself. “No, not another dumb joke, I promise.”

“Then by all means.”

You pulled back once more to look at him in the face. His eyes widened when he saw your nervous expression. You avoided holding his gaze, feeling a little small.

“Do you… want to be with me?”

Astarion looked taken aback. “What?”

“I mean… well…” You were having trouble sorting through your thoughts. Who were you to make this moment about yourself when Astarion had just been so open with you? And why couldn’t you trust him in what he had told you last night? Still, you had to know. You’d made it clear how much you cared for him and how much sleeping with him had meant to you.

Given his past experiences, it made sense why he’d sleep with you, but you wanted to hear him say it. If this was all some ploy to manipulate you into doing what he wanted, even without Cazador’s instruction, you needed to know now.

“Was I… just another conquest?” you asked, your tears reemerging. “Because if that’s the case, then I think we should end whatever this is.”

Astarion’s face was now inches away from yours. He moved a hand from your back and shifted it up to wipe a wayward tear that had escaped. He said your name softly.

“No, my sweet,” his other hand started rubbing soothing circles into your back. He pulled back a little. “Well, yes.”

You scoffed, another tear rolling down your cheek.

Astarion was quick to correct. “No, no! I mean, at first, yes, it was my plan to seduce you and sleep with you.”

You let out a small whimpering noise and he tried to catch your eye. You kept your gaze glued on something in the distance, unseeing.

Astarion cleared his throat. “You- You’re valuable; someone willing to feed me, someone who advocated for me to stay with you all, even though you knew vampires were dangerous, someone who would protect me in battle, even if it meant sacrificing something important to you.”

Try as he might to get your attention back on him, your face remained blank as you stared into the distance.

“I wanted your continued protection.” He shrugged. “Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in and I thought I could secure that with sex.”

That got you to look at him, a sour expression on your face. “Have you met me?”

Astarion chuckled. “Yes, I have. And that’s what threw me for such a loop.”

You humphed.

“When I realized you’d be more of a challenge, I modified my plan.”

“I don’t love the direction this is headed.”

“Stay with me, darling” he said, “I promise I’m going somewhere with this.”

You exhaled and nodded for him to continue.

“I did want to give you a good first experience, that much was true, but I will admit that I was still planning on using you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You realize how bad this sounds, right?”

“Will you-” he sighed. “Let me finish, damn you,” he brought his forehead to yours briefly, then pulled back. “So imagine how stupid I felt when I realized I genuinely felt something for you.”

That made you smile softly.

He groaned. “And yes, it is because I find you to be… a lot of fun.” The last phrase sounded like it hurt coming out.

Your soft smile transformed into one of smug satisfaction. “And when did you come to this conclusion?”

“Well first of all, look at you.” He smiled slyly and you playfully pushed his face away from yours, just as you had last night. After a moment, Astarion looked up, as if searching through his thoughts. “I suppose I’ve always found you to be amusing. You were so easy to fool in the beginning. I mean, the very first day we met, you thought I had one of those brain things cornered.”

“I had no reason not to believe you! And then you held a knife to my throat!” “Ah, memories,” he sighed wistfully. “But then we started traveling together, and I don’t think I’ve ever laughed more. Killing those goblins outside the Grove, fooling those trolls into working for us, taking out those Paladins of Tyr… you always had a sarcastic comment to contend with my sarcastic comments. Which is saying something.”

You snorted. “As if I wouldn’t have something to say.”

Astarion nodded. “You do talk a lot.”

You chuckled softly, feeling better. Your arms were still wrapped around Astarion.

“It was when I kissed you.” His tone was thoughtful.

“Hmm?”

“When I really kissed you for the first time, there was something different about it.” His eyes flicked down to your lips momentarily. “Suddenly everything we’d been through came rushing back to my mind and there was this… pleasure I hadn’t felt. In an awfully long time.”

You smiled like a dope, bringing your forehead to his.

“I realized you weren’t going anywhere. And that you genuinely cared about what I thought and what I wanted.” He looked at you almost shyly. “No one in the past two hundred years has stayed.” Astarion pulled back and his inflection became flamboyant and playful: “Not that they had much of a choice, but it was a somewhat shocking revelation.” His tone then returned to one of sincerity: “And no one has cared for me as you have.”

You looked away, embarrassed by the kind words.“What can I say, I’m incredible.”

Astarion blew out a cool puff of air that tickled your face. “Annoyingly, you are.”

You looked back at him and smirked. “For me, it was when you asked me how I’d want to die.”

Astarion snorted. “Pardon?”

“When you asked me how I wanted to die on one of our first nights at camp. I genuinely had the thought, ‘Now here’s a guy who knows how to have a good time.’”

Astarion laughed brightly. You mirrored his grin.

“You said you wanted to be decapitated.”

“How romantic of me,” he said, raising a seductive eyebrow.

“Well it did spark the crush I’ve been harboring this whole time,” you felt your face heat up at the admission. “That, and your stupid beautiful face.”

Astarion sniffed mockingly. “Thank you, not enough people mention that.” Then he looked at you fondly. “But that long, eh? How adorable.” He rubbed his nose against yours teasingly. “And here you thought nothing would come of it.”

“Nothing usually does!” you exclaimed.

He laughed and leaned forward to kiss you once. “Not so loud.”

You lifted an eyebrow and gestured to the empty landscape around you. Astarion shrugged. You lowered your voice despite the lack of other people to bother.

“I am glad something came of it this time.” You settled your forehead onto his shoulder.

“As am I, my love,” he kissed your hair. “Though I have something else to admit.”

You pulled back and looked at him curiously.

Out of nowhere, he presented you with a knife.

“I did have a knife.”

You scoffed incredulously and whacked his arm. “I KNEW YOU HAD A KNIFE, YOU BASTARD!” You laughed loudly and pushed him backwards.

He fell back onto his arms, laughing with you as you crawled on top and kissed him deeply.

“Careful darling,” he murmured against your lips, “don’t move.”

You paused your movements, your lips still pressed firmly against his own. Astarion turned his head slightly to look over to his left at the treeline you’d emerged from not too long ago. You pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth and felt him grin. Then you felt his right arm come up and jerk slightly, followed by a “THUNK” sound off to your right.

You waited a moment before you asked, “Can I move?” Your mouth was smushed against his face and your voice came out muffled.

He chuckled. “Yes, you can move now.”

You sat up and looked to your right, the knife Astarion had pulled was now wedged deeply into the trunk of a nearby tree. You raised your eyebrows at him.

He stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam, his voice straining as he went. “Impressed?”

“Honestly? Yes.” You leaned back down and kissed him again.

He hummed and his mouth moved against yours at a leisurely pace, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair. You kissed down his jaw and throat before coming to his collarbone and stopping.

“You’re sure you don’t want to fuck me again?” Your words came out a little shy and Astarion laughed.

He twirled the ends of your hair around his finger. “Delicious as you were, my sweet, I think I’d prefer to take my time with you.”

You pursed your lips, disappointed.

“That’s not to say I don’t want to, darling, but…” His fingers stopped twirling your hair as he thought. “Like you said earlier, so much has changed in the last few hours. I’ve only just discovered that I can sleep with somebody because I actually want to.” His hand moved from your hair to your cheek. “I think I need some time to adjust to that.”

You nodded and bent to kiss him. “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

He smiled up at you. “Thank you.”

You spent a few moments just looking at him, admiring how his eyes sparkled in the sun like rubies. You sighed noticeably.

“What is it, love?”

You shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“Darling…” He raised his eyebrows at you.

“No, it’s inappropriate right now.” You looked away.

You felt his hand in your hair, and his voice was conspiratory, “I love when you talk dirty.”

You sighed again and looked him in the eye. “One of these days, when you’re ready, I’m going to look into your gorgeous eyes as I make you come.”

Astarion sputtered out a surprised laugh. “Easy there, lover,” he gave you a sultry look, “I may just take you up on that.”

You sat up and spread your hands over his chest. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

He brought both hands up to his face and groaned loudly before dragging them back down his face and looking at you. “Come lay in the sun with me, will you?”

You pouted but rolled off of him and curled into his side.

“There now,” he said, arching his chest upwards towards the sky where the sun had now risen for the day, “isn’t this nice?”

You inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the trees and the sounds of the ravine below. You exhaled and closed your eyes, warmed by the sun and comforted by the presence of Astarion beside you. He himself had his eyes closed and looked peacefully content. You nuzzled further into his side, enjoying how his cool skin contrasted with the warmth coming from above.

Before you could even register that you were still tired from your early wakeup call this morning, you’d drifted back into a comfortable sleep.

~~~~~

You were awoken some time later by a lick to the face.

You shut your eyes tighter and groaned. “Gross, Astarion, I’m trying to sleep.” You threw an arm over your eyes, the sun now directly overhead.

“Did you find them, boy?” A voice shouted from the distance.

Your eyes shot open and found Scratch panting above you, wagging his tail excitedly.

You sat up quickly and immediately leaned over to shake Astarion who appeared to be trancing soundly.

“Astarion,” you shook him anxiously.

He scowled, his eyes still closed. He groaned lowly.

“Astarion, my dear, my sweet, my beloved,” you shook him harder and his eyes opened immediately. He sat up, fast as lightning.

“What’s happening? Where’s my knife?” He looked around frantically until his eyes landed on you. “Ah,” he said, calming, “déjà vu.”

“They’re coming,” you hissed.

“Who?” Astarion narrowed his eyes, thoughts still foggy from his trance.

“No FUCKING way!” Came Karlach’s voice from the treeline.

You looked over and found her with an elated grin on her face and her hands on her knees. She started laughing loudly and you hid your face in your hands.

“You guys did NOT,” she wheezed.

“Hello Karlach,” Astarion’s voice sounded nonchalant beside you. “What brings you out to ruin our beauty sleep?”

“Did you find them?” Shadowheart soon emerged from the forest and stopped in her tracks. She surveyed the area and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Astarion, tell me you didn’t.”

“Did what, darling?” He sounded smug and you looked over at him. His expression matched his tone. “You’ll have to be more specific.” He rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I fucking knew this would happen,” Karlach said, coming down from her laughing fit. “Soldier’s had her eye on you for a while now, Fangs.”

“Karlach!” You whisper-shouted.

“Oh, I’m aware,” you felt Astarion turn his head to look at you.

Suddenly Gale, Lae’zel, and Wyll joined the fray. Scratch ran to them and happily weaved between them as they emerged.

“We heard a commotion, did you find them?” Gale halted when he saw you and Astarion sitting together on the ground, him shirtless, you wearing his shirt. “No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yes,” Astarion said, tilting his head against yours. You gave him a dirty look.

“Chk! Was that filthy nest of our blankets your doing?” Lae’zel asked, cradling her greatsword proudly.

You groaned and hid your face in your hands again.

“It would appear so,” Wyll confirmed awkwardly.

“You vampires have a disgusting way of mating if that nest was any indication,” Lae’zel narrowed her eyes and lifted her nose in the air judgmentally. “Far too soft.”

Astarion scoffed and pulled back from you. “I’ll have you know that vampires mate in the most satisfying- well, we don’t mate, necessarily, we’re not dogs, but we, well at least I, am always an exemplary lover.”

Shadowheart ignored him and walked forward, crouching down and resting a hand on your shoulder. You looked at her. “Are you okay?”

“What?” you laughed in disbelief. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“He didn’t… coerce you into something, did he?”

“Excuse me?” Astarion sounded insulted. “I always ask permission first, darling.”

“Your charms can be quite overwhelming at times, Astarion,” Gale said.

“And wouldn’t you like having my charms turned on you, wizard,” Astarion sneered.

“Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Wyll held up his hands, gesturing for the others to relax.

“Everyone!” You raised your voice. All eyes settled on you. “Nothing happened between us that I didn’t expressly and happily agree to.”

Karlach started chuckling again. “Good for you, Soldier.”

“Thank you, Karlach,” said Astarion.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

He shrugged. “What?”

You groaned and stood up, wiping grass and forest debris off your clothes. You adjusted Astarion’s shirt on your shoulders, making sure you weren’t showing off too much to your companions.

“Is there a reason you all came out here? Or was it just to mortify me? Because mission accomplished!”

“It’s midday,” informed Wyll. “We grew worried when the two of you seemingly vanished and didn’t return.”

“Halsin and the tieflings are coming to camp tonight to celebrate our victory against the goblins,” Shadowheart crossed her arms.

“Yes, and it wouldn’t be a great look if our leader and the gangly one were missing,” Gale said.

“Gangly?!” Astarion exclaimed, very clearly not gangly.

“You’re- okay, well, I hadn’t seen you shirtless before now,” Gale amended.

“Like what you see?” Astarion teased.

“Astarion,” you scolded.

He sighed and got up, wrapping an arm around you and resting a hand on your hip.

You went red as you watched your companions track his hand.

“Listen, people,” Astarion said, sounding serious.

You saw your companions’ eyes shift to the vampire.

“Don’t give her a hard time. This was my doing.” Shadowheart was about to say something but Astarion raised his voice a bit. “While yes, she gave permission in everything that we did, this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t suggested it in the first place.”

“I could have suggested something much better, surely,” Lae’zel huffed.

“I mean, did you-?” Karlach thrust her hips in the air with her fists at her sides.

“Oh my gods,” you groaned.

“I don’t kiss and tell, darling,” Astarion said, squeezing your hip slightly.

Karlach smirked smugly and winked at you both.

You shook your head and looked up, silently begging any god that was listening to kill you and to do it quickly.

“We should get back to camp,” Wyll suggested diplomatically. “Let these two collect themselves.”

“So what does this mean?” Shadowheart asked, ignoring Wyll.

“Shadowheart,” Wyll warned but she waved him off.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Are you only going to sleep with the pathetic vampire moving forward?” Lae’zel stated bluntly.

You and Astarion looked at each other. You saw the slightest flash of uncertainty in his eyes and smiled. “If he’ll let me,” you said.

A small smile appeared on his face in return.

Lae’zel groaned. “K'chakhi. Your loss.” She turned and walked back into the forest, slinging her greatsword over her back.

You bit your lip, feeling guilty about Lae’zel’s feelings, but Karlach soon slid into your vision. “Congrats, you crazy kids,” she laughed and pretended to punch your arm, then followed on Lae’zel’s heels, Scratch bounding close behind her.

Gale walked over, his face stoic. He stood in front of Astarion and held out his hand.

Astarion scowled. “What is this, do you want some sort of handout?”

“I want to shake your hand, you buffoon,” Gale sounded frustrated.

“Gale…” you said sorrowfully.

“No no, think nothing of it,” he waved you off. “The right man won out in the end.”

Astarion took his hand and shook it. “Better luck next time,” he jeered.

“Astarion,” you scolded again. “You both know I’m not something to win, right?”

“Of course you’re not,” Gale nodded. “Apologies, I misspoke. I’ll see you both at camp. Lunch is bread and cheese to save room for tonight’s festivities.” He stiffly turned and walked back towards the trees. Wyll gave him a sympathetic look, then caught your eye. He nodded somewhat sadly and followed after Gale.

“Well that certainly doesn’t feel good,” you said, holding a hand to your chest and breathing deeply.

“Not quite finished yet, love,” Astarion nodded over towards Shadowheart who lingered nearby.

She approached slowly, holding her hands behind her back. Astarion released your hip and moved away, sensing what Shadowheart aimed to do. You looked at him curiously, but your attention was drawn back to Shadowheart as she threw her arms around your neck.

“You’re happy?” She asked softly.

“Shadowheart…” you smiled into her hair. “Yes, I’m happy. Thank you.”

She pulled back to look at you in the eyes, double checking your expression. When she saw that you were genuine, she nodded. She cleared her throat and looked over at Astarion.

She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Hurt her, and you will never know a happy day again.”

Astarion held up his hands defensively. “I won’t-”

“You have never known the pain of Lady Shar’s wrath, and you’d be smart to keep it that way, so help me gods, Astarion.”

“I got it,” he said flatly.

“Our Lady of Loss would not hesitate to strike you where you stand-”

“I think he gets it,” you said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Shadowheart.”

Shadowheart narrowed her eyes at Astarion before she looked back at you. “I’ll see you at camp. Don’t dally.” She looked pointedly at Astarion who shrugged helplessly.

When she headed back into the forest, you and Astarion were finally alone.

You let out a heavy sigh.

“That was a lot,” Astarion joined you at your side.

“Wait, did you know those people?” you smirked at him.

“Vaguely,” he smirked back and caught you in a kiss. “At least I don’t have to hold back from doing that at camp now.” He held you close in his arms.

You sighed again and laid your head on his shoulder. “You were right. I didn’t realize so many of them felt something for me.”

“That seems to be because you block out the advances of others.”

You shoved him playfully. “How dare you turn my pitiful backstory against me.”

He smiled and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go dismantle that ‘disgusting’ nest.” He did his best to impersonate Lae’zel on “disgusting.”

It made you laugh. “Okay.”

You took his hand and let him lead you through the trees back to the blankets and pillows that you’d spent the night on.

When you arrived, you picked up your shirt and bra, feeling mild embarrassment that the others had probably seen them and drawn (correct) conclusions. You removed Astarion’s shirt and threw it back at him, hitting him in the face and quickly covered your chest with your forearm.

Astarion laughed as his shirt fell into his awaiting hands. “Darling, you don’t have to hide from me,” he narrowed his eyes seductively. “I’ve already seen it all.” He tossed the shirt aside and made his way over to you.

“Feels different in the light of day,” you admitted self-consciously. “Worse, I guess.”

“Now, now,” he said, gently pulling your arm away from your chest, “let me see you in the daylight.” You allowed him to move your arm but didn’t look at him. “Lovely,” he breathed, and kissed you hard.

You inhaled in surprise, but immediately gave in and slipped your tongue into his mouth and your arms over his shoulders. His hand came up and began massaging your left breast, his icy touch sending a shock wave through you and making you moan.

Instantly, you pulled away and took a step back. “Careful,” you said as Astarion stared at you wide-eyed, his hand frozen in the air where he’d been palming your breast, “I thought you wanted to take things slow?”

He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a dry heave. “Stop being so nice to me,” he avoided your gaze. “It makes me want to… be nice back.”

“Gods forbid,” you laughed, and bent to pick up your bra which had fallen back amongst the pillows.

All of a sudden, you found yourself face down in the blankets, the wind knocked out of you and Astarion’s body weight pressed firmly on top of you.

“Astarion,” you wheezed, “what are you doing?”

His voice was sultry in your ear, “If you’ll remember, I said I wanted to take my time with you.”

Sexy as that was, you couldn’t breathe. You reached behind yourself and smacked Astarion’s back with your palm. “Living creatures need to breathe, idiot!”

“Oh,” he realized his error and rolled off of you. You had no time to adjust yourself before he flipped you over and hovered above you on his hands and knees.

You blew some hair out of your face, irritated. “Did you just tackle me like I was some sort of prey?”

“My dear, I would never,” he bowed his head and kissed your neck.

“And yet I find myself on the ground, even though I didn’t put myself here,” you tangled your hands in his hair, your voice wobbly.

“You’ve always been rather clumsy,” he murmured teasingly.

You took a deep breath and pushed him away. His lips were still puckered, making you giggle. “Shadowheart told us not to dally,” you reminded him. “And she threatened to kill you, what? Three times?”

“You forget that I’m already dead,” he smiled. “What’s another little death?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

You snorted. “Bad.”

“I thought that was rather clever, actually.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “We should really head back.”

Astarion whined and hung his head. “Let me have you again, woman!”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said!” He lifted his head and looked you in the eye. “And while I appreciate your concern, right now, I very much want to be inside of you again.”

You smiled cautiously. “Are you sure?”

He rolled his eyes and kissed you, lowering his body to roll his hips against yours and making his erection very obviously. You jolted at the unexpected sensation and he pulled back.

“Unless this is too much for you,” he searched your face for hesitancy. “You’re probably still sore and we don’t have to rush anything-”

You gripped the back of his head and tightened your fist into his curls. “Please,” you whispered, “fuck me again.”

A wicked grin bloomed on Astarion’s face and he kissed you passionately, rolling his hips against yours for friction. You moaned into his mouth, but he broke the kiss after only a few moments. “Like I said, love, I want to take my time with you.”

He rose up onto his knees and began untying the laces of your pants. You watched him intently and bit your lip as he removed them fully from your legs. He made quick work of his own and crawled back on top of you. His thumb hooked under your panties and his eyes met yours. You nodded and he pulled them down gently and discarded them close by. He then laid beside you, his eyes heavy with lust.

“Come here, precious thing,” he purred and you inched yourself closer to him. “Turn around,” he instructed. You gave him a confused half smile but did what he asked. He reached forward and pulled your hips back, causing you to feel his still-clothed cock against your ass.

“What are you doing?” you asked nervously.

Astarion chuckled. “Not that, fear not.” He kissed your shoulder as he slid his left arm under you and settled his hand on your lower stomach. A chill ran through you as he nuzzled his head onto your shoulder. “Fair warning,” you could hear the mischief in his voice as his right hand made itself known in front of your face. He wiggled his fingers in a delicate wave, then brought it down between your thighs.

A gasp escaped your throat when you felt his fingers swipe through your folds.

Astarion tilted his head and kissed your throat. “So wet already, darling.”

“You’re handsome,” you said by way of explanation.

He hummed against your shoulder and began to rub your clit. A shuddering breath left your mouth and your eyes fluttered shut. Astarion paused for a moment to lift your leg and hike it back over his. “This will feel good,” he said against your skin and dragged his fingers through your folds again before inserting a digit into your cunt.

You threw your head back in surprised pleasure, which made Astarion turn and nip at your ear. He began pumping and curling his finger slowly inside of you. Your breath caught when his thumb resumed its spot on your clit and whined when his finger inside of you hit a particularly sensitive spot. He adjusted his angle to hit it repeatedly.

“Astarion,” you moaned, your head clouded with nothing but ecstasy.

“Yes, my sweet, you’re gripping me so tight,” his voice was sensual in your ear. “Do you think you can take a little more?”

You nodded, your eyes shut tight.

“Words, darling.”

“Another…” you said breathily.

“Another what?”

Your voice was sing-songy. “Astarion, if you don’t put another finger in me right now, I’m leaving you.”

He laughed loudly before moving his mouth close to your ear again. “You like me too much.” Then he leaned up a little to catch your eye, his finger still pumping between your thighs. “Right?”

You smiled sympathetically, seeing your words had spooked him a little. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere,” you clarified. “But I might kill you.”

“Got it,” Astarion dragged his index finger through your folds, then carefully added it to your cunt alongside his middle finger.

You exhaled, moving your hand down from his cheek to his hand resting on your stomach. You laced your fingers together and squeezed when he hit a particularly good spot, getting you to moan out an, “Oh, gods.”

“Like that?” He asked cockily, reaching and curling to hit the spot again.

“Yes, my love,” you sighed, grinning upwards with your eyes closed.

Behind you, you felt Astarion’s cock twitch.

Your eyes opened and you looked back at him.

He smiled back at you sheepishly. “It does that sometimes, darling. When something is particularly arousing.”

Your breaths were coming out short and keeping in time with the pumping of his fingers. “Was it… ‘my love?’”

Astarion let out a low moan and hid his face in your shoulder before reemerging and nodding. “Coming from you while you’re in the throes of passion with me is really… something.”

You laughed between whimpers. “My… loooooove,” you sang, squeezing his hand again. “Your fingers feel heavenly, my looooove.”

“Fuck this,” Astarion said, pulling his fingers out of you unceremoniously and curling you forward with his body so he could shimmy out of his underwear.

“What are you doing,” you winced and whined childishly, “I was so close!”

“Unfortunately, darling, if I’m not inside you within a matter of seconds, I’m going to lose it completely.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” you said, half dazed and still coming down from your almost climax.

You felt his hand bump your ass as he pumped his cock and you instantly went stiff. “You’re not going to…?”

Astarion let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, my sweet, you’re not nearly ready for something like that yet.”

A relieved sigh escaped you.

“We could always work our way up-”

“No, that’s okay,” you said quickly.

“There’s nothing wrong with-”

“No, of course not-”

“But we can-”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” you patted Astarion’s cheek.

“Understood,” he nodded and resumed pumping his cock. “Hook your leg back over mine, darling.” When you followed his instruction, he kissed your shoulder once more. You felt the head of his cock glide through your folds until it prodded at your entrance and you let out a shaky exhale. “Don’t be scared,” he muttered, squeezing your hand. “Are you ready?”

You inhaled. “Yes.”

Just as he had last night, Astarion was slow to enter you. This time you heard him whimpering with his mouth so close to your ear.

“Fuck,” he murmured, dragging his fangs from your shoulder to your neck, “still so tight.”

“Obviously,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut, but not feeling nearly as uncomfortable as you had the first time he’d entered you. You let out a satisfied exhale when his hips bumped your ass.

“Let me know what I can move,” Astarion said against your skin, his words barely recognizable.

“You can move,” you said almost immediately, reaching a hand up behind you and twisting it into Astarion’s hair. You moved it over a little to play with the tip of his ear.

He let out a loud groan and snapped his hips forward, probably with more force than he meant to. “Apologies,” he whispered, “that felt heavenly.”

“Keep going, my love,” you encouraged and he caught your eye with a seductive smile.

He continued to pump his cock into your dripping hole and brought his right hand down to your clit. He licked a stripe from your neck up to your ear. “You know, I really did intend to take my time with you just now,” he spoke lowly from the back of his throat. As if to illustrate his point, he slowed his hips to take long, languid strokes out, and then moved back into you at an equally slow pace. His thumb on your clit slowed as he disconnected his left hand from yours and brought it up to fondle your breast. He kissed up your shoulder to your neck sloppily and sucked on the fading bite marks from last night.

You moaned loudly, hooking your foot around his calf and tightening your fist in his hair. “We’d really be dallying, then,” you commented.

He made a frustrated noise. “Don’t even allude to the cleric right now,” he pulled away from your neck. “Unless it’s to tell me I’m a much better lover than her.” He snapped his hips into you, hard.

“I don’t have much of a reference, genius,” you responded breathlessly.

“Right,” he said, and picked up speed at your clit. His mouth returned to sucking on your throat.

“Oohhh,” you sighed. You let out a gasp when Astarion’s left hand pinched your nipple.

“You feel wonderful, my darling,” spit connected him to your neck.

“So do you,” you brought your hand up to cover Astarion’s that was kneading your breast. “You can bite me, if you want.”

He groaned loudly and bumped his nose against your jaw. “Well,” he said between thrusts, “if you insist.”

He kissed your throat before biting down, his hips instantly picking up speed.

The ice that shot into your veins was a shock as always, but melted into a fuzzy pleasure that had your eyes drooping in ecstasy.

Astarion took long pulls of your blood as he continued thrusting, circling your clit, and needing your breast. How he was keeping track of everything at once was beyond you in this pleasant, foggy state.

“Darling,” he pulled away suddenly, swallowing loudly and seemingly out of breath. “May I taste you as you come?”

Your tongue lolled to the side, but his voice snapped you out of it. You nodded up at him. “Yes, please.”

“What do you need?” He licked the wounds on your neck.

“As much as I’m enjoying you taking your time,” you said, “harder and faster.”

“Easy,” a cocky grin graced his face as a drop of your blood dripped down his chin.

His hips picked up a brutal pace that nearly had you reaching your peak, and he pressed further onto your clit, his tight circles picking up speed as well.

“Oh, Astarion,” you moaned loudly, reaching back again to grip his hair.

“Come for me, dearest,” he spoke softly against your throat, but loud enough that you could hear, “I want to hear you sing again. I want to taste how sweet your blood is when I make you cum on my cock.” He continued leaving sloppy kisses against your neck.

“I’m close,” you confirmed, your eyes shut tight and your body tensing.

“Go ahead, love, I’ve got you,” his hard thrusts were becoming uneven, but ever the professional, his voice remained mostly even. “You’re so tight and warm, thank you for letting me taste you.” He kissed your mouth. “Darling.” Another kiss. “Beloved.” One more. “Mine.”

You cried out as you fell over the edge, your cunt squeezing his cock repeatedly, only to cry out again as you felt Astarion’s fangs enter your neck once more.

“Astarion!” You shouted, squeezing his hand and pulling his hair and wrapping your shaking leg around his. Almost simultaneously, you felt Astarion spill inside you as he moaned your name loudly into your neck, his hips pulsing clumsily against you.

The sensation of him drawing your blood was still pleasantly fuzzy, but you could feel yourself becoming light headed. You tapped his arm twice, your signal for him to stop, and he pulled away, leaning his forehead against your temple and breathing heavily.

“Still cumming,” he groaned and clenched his teeth, his hips faltering in their rhythm.

After another moment, his body finally relaxed and he pulled you closer into his chest, catching his breath. “That was… amazing,” he sighed happily, leaning forward to lick the remaining blood from your neck. “If I knew blood could taste that good-” His voice trailed off. “Well, I’m sure I’d do something about it if I could.” He seemed pleased with his own answer and hummed contentedly behind you.

“I’m glad it was to your liking,” you said, looking back at him with a smile. He bent forward and kissed you happily. “I’m like a fine vintage,” you teased.

Astarion pursed his lips. “You’re far from vintage, darling, you’ll have to work on your wine related japes.”

You laughed and a comfortable silence fell between you. Astarion rested both of his hands on your stomach. Which growled suddenly.

“What’s that like?” He teased, licking a wayward drop of blood from the side of his mouth.

Your body tensed. “Oh gods, bread and cheese!”

Astarion blinked at you. “Are those some sort of new deities I’m not aware of, or-?”

“No, that’s what Gale said we’re having for lunch.”

“And that’s important because-?”

“Because we DALLIED and there’s a PARTY tonight and now Shadowheart is going to KILL us.”

“I see.” Astarion remained still, fixed in place. Then suddenly he was pulling out of you at a breakneck speed and reaching for his clothes.

You winced a little at the sensation but scrambled for your own clothes, wiping yourself down with the cloth Astarion provided again and got dressed in what was probably record time.

Incredibly, you both looked presentable.

“We do make a gorgeous pair,” Astarion cocked his hip and smirked at you, going in for a kiss.

You swatted him away. “Enough flirting, loverboy, we can talk about us later!” You started reaching for blankets and pillows.

“Us,” Astarion stood on the sidelines, testing out the word on his tongue. “I do so like the sound of that.”

“Help me, would you?” You threw a pile of blankets at him, hitting him in the face and blowing his hair back.

He groaned. “It should be a crime to rush after you’ve just made love to the most amazing woman.” He came up behind you and smacked your butt teasingly.

You stood up straight and tried to look angry. “We are going to die if we don’t head back right now.” Astarion wasn’t buying your anger, so you turned bashful. “You made loooove to me?” You clasped your hands together by your face. “You think I’m amaaaazing?” You twirled some of your hair for good measure.

Astarion sighed. “Be serious, woman, we’re going to die!” His voice was exasperated but he smirked at you. He bent to pick up more blankets and pillows and you did the same until you both had piles you could barely see over and nothing was left behind.

“Ugh, I’m going to have to do so much laundry,” you muttered. “Seriously, how did you manage bringing all this out here?”

“Well first, everything was folded neatly.”

“We don’t have time.”

“And second, multiple trips, darling.”

“We can’t afford to leave camp EVER again.”

Try as you might to rush back to camp, you still had to maneuver through a forest and be careful where you stepped. The pair of you moved as quickly as you could, which wasn’t as fast as was probably necessary to avoid Shadowheart’s ire.

“Soooo…” You broke the silence after a few moments.

“Gods,” Astarion rolled his eyes, “what?”

“‘My love,’ huh?” You waggled your eyebrows at him.

“What about it?”

“You liiiiiiked it,” you teased.

“I-” You could see that he thought about arguing but decided not to. “I’m not used to the pet names turned on me. It’s… nice.”

“You’re cute,” you said, looking over at him affectionately and nearly tripping over a tree root as a result.

Astarion snickered, then made his face serious. “I’m the furthest thing from cute. I’m a horrifying monster.” He lowered his voice as if that would back him up.

“Yeah, but you like being mushy.”

“I do not.”

“You do!” You moved closer to him and bumped his hip with your own. “You were so sweet to me yesterday. And just now.”

“It’s different with you,” he said quietly.

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows.

“It’s… um… This is stupid, I hate it.” He tried to walk ahead of you but you caught up easily.

“No, no! Please.” You gave him a reassuring look. “I, of all people, will not judge you.”

He sighed. “It’s just… nice to feel like something is mine.” He was quick to correct, “Not that I own you but… I don’t know. You’re not a victim. Not a target. Not just… one night it’s better to forget. You’re something entirely new.”

You smiled over at him. “I like you too, weirdo.”

Astarion humphed. “Whatever.” He moved closer and bumped your hip with his own. The two of you shared a fond look, then turned back to the path ahead.

If Shadowheart was going to kill you, at least you’d die together.

You both quickened your pace to try and avoid that fate, but it was a lovely thought.

Soon, you began to make out the bright colors of your tents through the trees and the sound of your companions chatting by the fire.

You turned to Astarion. “See you on the other side.”

He nodded, determined. “It’s been a pleasure servicing you, darling.”

“I hope she kills you first.”

You shared a laugh before you took a calming breath.

And stepped into camp.

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