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♡ little things that would make halsin fall harder for you♡

how lovely you look while throwing the ball for Scratch

how good you are at telling tales, and how many of them you actually know (he could listen to you for hours)

how you appreciate the simplest wonders of life

how you are an adventurer at heart, always ready for the new journey ahead

how you want to talk with every animal you encounter

how you play with his hair, braiding it, running your nails, through his scalp, making him feel utterly peaceful...

how your fingers gently trace his scars

how you desire him both; in his human form as well as in his bear form (if you know what I mean...)

how your eyes light up when he gives you the little wooden duck he whittled himself, especially for you (he's been working on it for so long!)

how you bring him jars of honey, just because once he mentioned to you he liked the taste very much

how you tell him he's rather big for an elf, am I? (he heard it many times before, but somehow with you it hits different)

how you keep asking him for more and more kisses (he can never deny)

how he catches you sneaking glances at him while he is training (making him want to train even harder hihi)

how you keep him on his toes with your witty banter

how you leap onto his back when he's in bear form, having an absolute blast (he's happy as well)

how you want to be his lover, yes- but most importantly his friend, someone he can confide in and trust (someone he didn't have for the longest time)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about halsin ♡here♡

Head canons of the companions: Sfw/// Nsfw

Word count: 1.9k

Very random head cannons for the companions + Halsin

Shadow Heart:

—-Sfw——

•If she were to get her nails done she would get stiletto nails that are black chrome.

•I feel like she would argue with you about who gets to cuddle with your shared animal.

•She used to be an emo kid.

•I could see later if she does not become shars Dark judiciary she would change her style to something with cottagecore undertones.

•She loves to give you flowers.

•She also gets over her fear of swimming and now it is an activity she looks forward to doing with you.

•Always cold.

•Would love to have kids.

-----Nsfw below-----

•She is a switch, but prefers to do the work.

•But if you are the top best, believe she expects the princess treatment.

• Her favorite body part would have to be the stomach and thighs.

•She would be willing to have an extra partner in the bedroom, but she is mostly referring to Halsin.

•She is skilled with her hands.

•She loves to listen to all the sounds that you make.

•Very good with aftercare, either getting a towel to clean any fluids or getting water and a soft blanket. So that the two of you can cuddle and relax.

Astarion:

—Sfw—

•He loves his hair being played with.

•He also loves laying on your lap when you are reading.

•He hums when he is reading or “looking into the mirror”

•He often asks you to describe his face because he cannot see it. And if you can draw he will bashfully ask if you can draw him, mostly to see how you view the way he looks.

•Once you get into a relationship he becomes a softie only to you.

•He wants to try and knit or crochet but has no idea how to.

•He likes to hold your hand, or be at least touching you all the time in one way or another.

•He loves soft blankets and will wrap himself up in one before sitting in front of the campfire.

•Does not want kids.

-----Nsfw below-----

--------------------------

•He loves the predator/prey kink. Especially if you're willing to have your blood as the reward.

•7.5 inches. (19.05 cm) All ima say

•He loves to lightly drag his fangs down your neck before he bites you.

•Thigh guy. He can appreciate all body types, but something about plush thighs makes him want to sink his teeth into them.

•He always likes seeing your face, but not opposed to other positions. He just favors seeing you.

•He is a very caring partner, always watching and adjusting what he is doing so that you are enjoying it too.

•Man is absolutely amazing with his hands.

•Overstimulation plays a big part in your sex life, he would make sure you came 3 times to every one time.

•He likes to whisper into your ear how much he loves you while deep inside you.

Karlach:

—Sfw—

•Cuddling is a key point for relaxing

•Most of the food she likes is spicy.

•She is also very into Mead, and hard liquor.

•She always looks intimidating but literally the minute she starts talking she is the sweetest. This throws off everyone when they meet her.

•Very protective of everyone in camp. But I also want to see when fights happen.

•I believe that she has lifted Astarion by the middle of his shirt when he gets a little blood thirsty.

•She can dance like it's no one's business.

•She is the biggest flirt!!!!!!

•If you are a girl she calls you “hot mama” in passing or “hottie” as a male.

•Will forget what she is talking about in the middle of a sentence.

•Works out at 5 am every day, often going with Wyll and scratch.

•Loves kids.

-----Nsfw below-----

-----------------------

•Top

•Big mommy Karlach

•She loves sweet soft sex.

•Totally an ass girl. She will spank you any chance she gets. Sexually or non-sexually.

•Her tail is sensitive and loves when you touch it.

•Same with her horns but at the base of her horns.

•She would want to cuddle with her partner after finishing.

•She would also be great with after care, checking to make sure you are okay and that she didn’t burn you. If she had she would go into full freak out mode. Getting you anything and everything she can to make sure that it heals well.

Lae’zel:

—Sfw—

•She would be elated if you brought her a sword as a gift.

•often sighing when she was not involved enough in conversation.

•She has back pain, often asking for someone to walk or crack her back.

•Stretches often.

•Likes to work out as well, but does it around 4 to avoid everyone else but will find somewhere nice to have breakfast.

•Does not like flowers.

•Will give you a massage if you are in pain, telling you that you have been working well.

•Very Jealous.

•Her best friend is the owl bear. And you of course.

•Bae’zel

•Wants kids

-----Nsfw below-----

----------------------

•Possessive

•Very forward with what she wants.

•Rough sex all the way.

•Likes Ass. But will never outright say that.

•Likes it when you call her name.

•Likes being kissed.

•If you have a tail she likes it if you wrap your tail around her in some way.

•Low key freaky, but nothing too extreme.

•She likes to cover your mouth if you are being too loud, as she does not want anyone to hear how well you are getting off.

•She is not very good with aftercare. She will give you water though.

Gale:

—Sfw—

•ROMANTIC

•Wants to go on a picnic with you so bad.

•He prefers eating Gloves over shoes for his magical artifacts.

•When he is lost in thought, if you are also a wizard you can see bits of weave around him. Mostly circulating his head and hands.

•He loves reading and finding new books. Will even go out of his way to talk to withers to see if he knows of any more interesting books. Sometimes withers will give them to him to read. When he gets them back there are many dog eared pages. With different nice notes for Withers.

•He writes all over his books. He even gives you one that was enchanted to tell a different story that he loved of you each time the book is opened.

•He wears glasses when he gets older.

•DILF.

•Wants kids but is scared of having any thinking he wouldn't be any good at it.

-----Nsfw below----

-----------------------

•8 inches.

•Magical, loves to incorporate magic into your sex life.

•Mage hand?

•Boob man. Does not matter the size as long as he can suck on them.

•He is amazing with his hands and his mouth. Those spells are not easy to pronounce.

•Loves to slowly undress you to build up to the moment.

•Moderately horny.

•Making love to you makes him feel like you are becoming one.

•Whispers praises to you.

•Also loves to be praised.

•Never afraid to initiate the act with you, going as far as to pulling you away from the camp to enjoy eachothers company.

•Lovesssss to hear you moan, it makes him sure that he is doing everything correctly and well.

•Breeding kink. Goodnight

Wyll:

—Sfw—

Such a sweetie.

•Loves to dance, and will ask you if he may have this dance even if there is no music.

•He would go crazy for a Bard at his side.

•Man can sing. And dance what more could you ever need.

•He is charitable. Helping anyone that he can, almost pushy about it sometimes. But he is purely doing it out of kindness.

•Karlach is his bestie. They love to shit talk Mizora.

•She would love to adopt Scratch if he could. But believes he would be better off with Gale or Shadow Heart.

•Loves drinking wine. Often getting wine drunk and giving you so many kisses you could suffocate.

•When you are sleeping together he likes sleeping on the outside incase anyone comes in he can protect you and worst case scenario you can escape.

-----Nsfw below-----

------------------------

•8.5 inches

•He would be a boob man.

•Caring, and gentle.

•Loves getting heads, but is not opposed to giving it either.

•When getting head he would get too excited and fuck the back of your throat.

•Loud, will get very embarrassed if anyone happens to hear him.

•If you were on top and used his horns as leverage he would go wild.

•His favorite position would be missionary, so he could be closer to you and hold you in his arms.

•Needs to feel needed, often will ask for intimacy. But does not always mean bone and be done. He likes to take his time and enjoy each part.

Halsin:

—Sfw—

•Literally the sweetest man.

•Want to be the rock to everyone, and loves if anyone comes to him asking for advice.

•He would become everyone's therapist, but to talk with him he will also teach each person how to whittle a figure while talking. This leads to an excess of carving statues, surprisingly Lae’zels is the best. Making an owl bear that she let Halsin keep.

•Is basically the doctor, everyone going to him when they need healing.

•Often will find an area where he can be one with nature in the morning.

•Loves to cook, always making sure to feed everyone else before himself.

•He is a lightweight drinker. And will baby a drink for hours before finishing it.

•Likes going swimming in his bear form.

•Often going into his bear form when he is sleeping.

•Take baths in nature.

•he will hand pick flowers to give to you so that you have something beautiful from mother nature.

•Chews on pencils.

•Tests your food after Orin shows up at camp, he would rather him getting hurt than you.

•Wants kids, he would be such a good father!!!!!!!!!!

-----Nsfw below-----

------------------------

•HUGE DICK im talking 9.5-10 inches.

•He is big and he knows it. Making sure to prep you well before doing anything.

•He will split half and half when he does it in bear form or in his normal form as long as you are okay with it.

•He is a thigh man.

•He loves stretch marks, kissing them, running his finger tips over them. He just loves them so much.

•Amazing with his hands.

•Speaks in a way that's like honey dripping from his lips. (Very sweet)

•Animalistic when doing the deed.

•Freaky, and i mean like freakyyy.

•Does not care if anyone within a 10 mile radius can hear the two of you.

•Doggy style is his go to.

•He is not opposed to an extra partner in the bedroom, hell he enjoys to the fullest as well. Everyone involved is being satisfied does not matter how long it takes.

•Aftercare is top tier!!!!!!!! He is going to sit with you for a few minutes while he heals any of the wounds that may have been afflicted while everything was happening.

•He cleans you up, and sits you in his lap while he strokes your hair. Swallowing you up in his arms and chest.

•He will want to go over what happened later on after you have recovered. To see what he can improve, what you liked and what you didn’t like. Every detail is saved in the back of his mind for another time.

•Horny ass man.

————————————————————————

This was so fun to write. I’m not the best with writing about smut but I did my best.

Annnnnd 8k! 🖤 I'm getting closer! This is DEFINITELY going under the cut! 😁

“I see I’m going to have to do all the sweet-talking, pet.” She shudders as one of his hands brushes along her trembling stomach muscles, down to her thigh, before guiding her underwear down and off. She barely registers his comment as she swallows around the saliva flooding her mouth, the urge to taste so intense that it feels like it’s written on her bones. “I… I want you here.” She mumbles, fingers tracing her face, and he laughs. “You want to see… if you can take me… in your pretty mouth…?” He whispers, thumb brushing over her lower lip. She nods, lips parting to suck him in as her body trembles in reaction to his words. His jaw tightens as he watches, her tongue swirling around his warm skin. She hums when his cock twitches, softly bumping her stomach as a quiet sound vibrates in his chest. He watches her a moment more, eyes burning, before he shifts to the side and drags her off the bed, onto the floor. She sits obediently on her knees, closing her eyes as his fingers thread into her hair. His touch is soft, and her cheeks burn as she realizes what he’s doing. He gathers the strands at the back of her head before tugging gently- just the way she likes.  She sighs, opening her eyes to shamelessly stare at him, yearning to lick the pearl of glistening pre-cum off his flushed tip. She flicks her eyes up to his and the desire she sees there lights a fire in her belly that spurs her forward, hands resting over his hips as she sets her sights and dives in. Astarion hisses when she kisses the base of him, bathing him in her attention and affectionate nips. Her thighs shiver as she continues her trail of teasing, his grip on her scalp growing tighter. She flashes him a soft smile before kissing down the weighty length of him, lips parting when she pulls away to watch him leak a silvery strand down to her breasts. She swallows a breathy sound before eagerly lapping it up, her ears ringing from the sharp inhale and throaty groan he gives her as she sucks his swollen tip inside. He fills her entire mouth before she can draw him in further and her cunt clenches with jealousy imagining him pushing inside, on her back, a bruising grip on her hips… Her fantasies play behind her closed lids as she hollows her cheeks and relaxes her jaw to swallow more, moaning lightly as he nudges the back of her throat. Tears form in her eyes as she blinks up at him, her hips restless as he tugs on her hair and pulls out of her mouth before slowly thrusting inside. “Hells…” He whispers, her mind slowly melting the longer he fucks her mouth. Her entire body aches for him, for this pleasure- she squirms and whimpers, letting him guide the pace. He’s considerate of her adjustment period until a glimmering sweat breaks out on his chest and her eyes track a drop as it follows the curve of his pelvic bone. When it meets his shaft a switch flips and she abandons all rational thought for the need to please. She struggles to take him fully, but every time he rocks his hips in and her lips meet his hips he grunts- a gravelly, greedy thing that stokes the heat in her belly until she’s whimpering. He’s making a mess out of her, and she increases the pace until he’s slipping in and out, smearing spit and slick over her chin and down until it drips over her chest. She holds her breasts aloft, thumbs swirling the fluid over her pebbled flesh as waves of pleasure shiver through her.

WIP Whenever/Wednesday!

Okay, so I'm late to Wednesday, but whatever!

I wanted to share something I'm working on while I'm working on my long fic With Stars to Fill My Dream- since the smut is far off, I have been enabled into indulging in an Astarion Incubus one-shot by my lovely friends, and I've been marinating it for the last couple days. All inspired by this beautiful art by @poofroom

It's going to take some heavy lifting on my part, so it will definitely not be a couple-day endeavor since it's currently sitting at 3,987 words and we've barely passed the summoning. That being said, it'll be a long one-shot in an AU of my fic's universe where Ofelia accidentally summons a... you guessed it, incubus! And it's Astarion!

Please enjoy some of this as a teaser since I'm raking myself over the coals trying to make it my best smut work! XOXO 🖤 (Putting it beneath the cut so I don't go to horny jail 🖤)

The curtain flutters away, revealing the silhouette of a man. Except it isn’t a man… As the light illuminates the hard cut of his torso, bat-like wings stretch and unfurl on either side of him, wicked horns curling up and over his silver hair. Red irises glow in the night, trained on her face, a tail swishing behind him. She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move- her heart pounds, but her body reacts in a way she hadn’t expected. Her skin breaks out in the same feverish sweat that she’d felt before crawling into bed, her stomach aching and her breathing coming in short pants. She chances a glance in the full body mirror across the room, her cheeks flushing red at the uselessness of her night dress. The marks that had started at her neck circle her wrists and close around her thighs like bands. “Am I dreaming?” She asks softly, unable to resist the pull she feels towards him. He takes a step and she tenses, eyes admiring his broad shoulders, ornamental silver bracers covering each forearm. Most of his body is bare, save for the thin piece of satiny fabric and gilded chains covering his hips. Her eyes trace the trail of hair that disappears beneath, down until her breath chokes out of her. Her thighs press together at the hard outline beneath the loincloth, her imagination filling in the gaps- thick, straining, throbbing. Her mouth floods with saliva and she swallows thickly as the steady pulse from earlier begs for attention, her shame dissolving as his crimson gaze flows down over her exposed breasts. The sudden urge to touch him fills her mind until it’s all she can think about, even as he opens his mouth to expose sharp canines. “I’m afraid not.” His voice, smooth and velvety, covers her body like honey- sticky sweet. She shivers as he takes another step, so close now that she can see the sharp tips of his ears beneath his hair. His lips curl into a fiendish grin and she shakes her head, wanting him closer, god, she can’t take the distance anymore. Her mind roars with a desire hotter than anything she’d ever felt- wanting more than anything she’s ever wanted before. It drowns the real her out, save for a single line of curiosity. “What are you?”

I'm specifically tagging you three first because you're enablers, but I'm tagging the rest, no pressure! 🖤 @preciouslittlebhaalbae @inkymoonbunny @verbenaa @ladyduellist @khywren @bhaalsdeepbat @elinorbard

And if I didn't tag you, know that I love you and I'm the world's most forgetful person!

Chapter Summary:

Bonnie and Astarion strangely reunite after five years of separation.

»»——⍟——««

Chapter 1: Eye on the Sparrow

Ao3

Next Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 5k

Pairing: Astarion x female western bard OC

CW: Language, Violence, References to Trauma

»»——⍟——««

Loud roars roll out of the Elfsong Saloon like thunderstorms tumbling down from the eastern mountains. The old fir building is abnormally packed for the beginning of the week, damn near every civilian poking around in Baldur’s Gate spilling out of its batwing doors. Oil lamps hang outside, blazing like devils around the raucous place. 

Astarion approaches the saloon, garnet eyes nearly aglow with want in the pitch dark night, lured by the faint scent of blood. Not just any bouquet, mind, but one that belonged to a woman named Bonnie Sparrows: enemy; friend; brief lover. It’s been nearly five years since he last saw the elf, having hightailed it out of her vicinity shortly after they finished what they set out to do, yet her aroma stuck around in his mind like a habit he couldn’t quit. The sweetest swill he’s ever had: honeyed milk and sugar violets. 

He runs his tongue along his upper gums, trying to alleviate the ache in his fangs without any success. Dangerous move, Bon, the vampire smirks to himself, knowing she’s brought him there on purpose as an open invitation he couldn’t refuse. See, that’s the thing about Bonnie, she did everything with intention. Foolhardy or not, she deliberately put all her thoughts and actions into whatever goal she was meaning to achieve. 

As his boots drag him past a few horses tied to a wooden hitch post, he hears them softly snort, sensing his existence as the predator that could feast upon them at any moment. He eyes the closest one, pupil shifting to the side to view it better. “Vile creatures. More prone to biting than I am…well, almost,” he mutters under his breath. 

“My, my, is that the renowned gunslinger Astarion ‘Crimson Eye’ Ancunín or do my eyes deceive me?” a high-pitched voice twangs, interrupting him from chastising the unsettled equines. 

Astarion lifts his head to see an amethyst-skinned tiefling leaning seductively against the outdoor railing, breasts giving him a generous greeting as they pour over the top of her silken bodice. She’s clearly one of the lost, a prostitute that’s seen too much, judging by the dark bags under her eyes. His stomach drops, wondering if he had looked as raddled as she does before his former master died. He reckons he was fortunate he couldn’t see his reflection anymore during that era, the last of his repressed humanity at risk for disappearing if he had ever gotten a glimpse of himself. Two centuries of brutality and starvation does something to a person that never does seem to leave their outer appearance, always embedded just beneath the pores. 

A silver curl peeks out from under a weathered black cattleman hat as he tips the edge at the lady. “Good evening, darlin’,” he replies politely.

The woman smiles wide, lifting layers of purple petticoats to curtsy. “Now how come I never see you at Sharess’s Caress with a mare or stallion in your lap, hmm? Handsome feller like you would be treated like royalty there!” 

Astarion can’t fault the whore for being attracted to him, he is a beautiful man, anyone with at least one good eye could see that. Head full of snowy waves, opalescent skin rivaling the moon’s luminance, and a sharp jawline, he’s as every bit of a refined-looking gentleman that immortality would allow. Not to mention, he possesses an educated mind with a debonair that easily beguiles others that is typically uncommon in western Faerûn.

Only hiccup he has to worry about is the populace discovering he’s a vampire spawn. Creatures like him aren’t well-received—perhaps understandably—especially in recent years. Taking up a vocation as a bounty hunter has allowed him space from people suspecting, tending to be more interested in his attractiveness and marksmanship than that fact that his accent seems to lack the same present day drawl or that he never exhibits an appetite for mortal food. 

Still, a frown falls upon his face. He understands the woman is just trying to make a living, enticing him for coin in exchange for her adept services, but the glint in her eye tells him she meant what she implied. It didn’t matter the amount of time that had passed since he was last forced to use his body for another’s pleasure—much like the soiled doves at the brothel house—folks still continue to view him as only a sexual object. 

He takes a moment to check the threading in his cowhide gloves while he rearranges his thoughts. “As much as I appreciate your tempting proposal, I am far too busy draining this city dry of all its bad blood,” he says, showing off his pearly white teeth.

The tiefling swiftly descends the stairs in front of the saloon, meeting him at the bottom. Her hand wraps around his bicep and she pulls herself flush against his chest. “Well, how about you take me inside and buy me a drink then? And if you’re feeling up to it later,” she purrs into his ear, dragging a manicured nail down his jawline. “you’re more than welcome to wet your wick inside me.”

His breathing stops.

No.

She’s pushing and pushing.

No.

Frisking the point of his ear.

No.

He doesn’t want this.

No. 

This isn’t okay.

No. 

NO!

Anger glazes over his eyes as he feels his body freeze from her touch. He focuses on an object, any object. There. Decorative beads hanging from her horns. That’ll do. The colors are dim at first, but then burst with vibrancy. He takes a breath, feels his chest rise and sink. Two men exit the building, singing a drunken ditty. They both come into clear focus as another puff of air enters his lungs. And then sound begins to break through the fuzz in his ears. Laughter. Words. The clinking of cups. Finally, a familiar heartbeat. Bonnie.

He is safe and he is here. 

He is safe and he is here.

He is safe and he is here.

Astarion doesn’t seek out the woman’s face, but instead snatches her wrist, yanking it back. “This is the only warning you’ll get to keep your hands off me,” he warns with a hiss. 

Her bronze irises dilate, shocked at his reaction. “Didn’t mean to upset you none,” she laughs nervously, flinching as though she were used to a man handling her in a rougher way than he did. “I—” her tone lowers, violet cheeks darkening with blush. “I can give you a fellatio, if you’d prefer. But please don’t tell no one. They wouldn't take kindly to knowing I did something like that.”

Nasty fluid burbles in his upper throat as he releases her. The woman scuttles a couple steps backwards and rubs her wrist. “Just…stop talking,” he manages, panic subsiding as his surroundings sharpen into view again. “I would suggest flying back to your coop for the rest of tonight.” He dips into his vest pocket to pull out a few gold coins, tossing them her way. 

With cupped palms, she catches the shiny discs. “Truly am sorry about what I’d done,” she apologizes, bending down to shove the gold into her boot. “If you ever change your mind, I’ll be waitin’.” She’s additional apologies and hair ringlets swaying as she delivers a courteous bow, gradually departing down the street back into the night that beckons her.

The pale elf pauses, allowing an ounce of pride to wash over him for setting a boundary. He’s getting better at buffering those intrusive episodes as they occur, inner wounds covering themselves in scar tissue, lessening the pain with every midnight chime. It’s a lonesome road he sometimes travels, struggling to counterbalance his trauma and daily life built up by thousands of former strangers’ hands gliding down his statuesque form like a cactus prickling at his flesh for a single night of passion he didn’t have a choice in. Touching him had been a death sentence. For his conquests. For his abuser. For his broken soul. 

Gruff men’s brays explode from the saloon when Astarion belatedly enters. Feathered fans open, intentionally tickling patrons' noses as their feminine owners entertain with songs and sparkling tasseled shoes. Liquor pours on end into glasses of all sizes. A slurred heated discussion concludes when a businessman lays unconscious on the floor next to his punched out teeth.

But, amongst the boisterous crowd, the vampire finds her. 

Bonnie is leaning against the bar with that coppery red hair resembling a fox’s fur, loosely cascading over her shoulders, with booze pressed to her lips like she’s been a regular since the place was built. Her worn pecan colored hat is pulled down enough to solely hide the top portion of her face, revealing only a pair of heart-shaped pouters as pink as sunbeams passing through a cloud. 

He’s admittedly apprehensive to approach the lady; they didn’t part on the best of terms. And life changes people, for better or worse. The Bonnie he knew may be lost to a past he would have to mourn in the dust. Was he prepared for that? To slough her from his memory like a rattlesnake sheds its skin. He furrows his thick brows, contemplating if he should leave before she notices him. No, he needs to properly face her. Put things to bed so they could both move on without any lingering questions.

Besides, unbeknownst to her, he’s there for far more than a trip down nostalgia lane or his lust after her crimson draft. Woman has warrants out on her name and a man has a bounty to collect. 

Spurs clank as he trudges along towards the bar, spiked rowels tapping the hardwood beneath him. Astarion offers a nod to the dancing ladies and buzzed buckaroos on his way, avoiding their conversations until he reaches his destination standing next to Bonnie. He billows out his jacket, positioning his elbows onto the countertop. 

“What can I get you, honey?” an older barmaid riddled with white sunspots inquiries as she cleans out a glass for him.

“You’ll break my cold heart if you tell me you don’t serve red wine in this fine establishment,” he replies, turning on his charm with a wink.

“We do try to keep folks happy ‘round here,” she chuckles, obviously falling for his flirtatious demeanor as his head carelessly props up on his fist. She searches a shelf behind her, procuring a green bottle, then pours the maroon drink into his cup. “Here you are. That’ll be two silvers.”

“Thank you.” He slides the change across the counter. “Extra for a tip.” The barmaid smiles at his charity, collecting the money, ready to serve another customer that’s walked up.

Bonnie’s heart starts pulsing wildly, a bison stampede alive in Astarion’s ears, knowing that she immediately recognizes his voice. She’s anxious. Bonnie “The Duet” Sparrows is anxious. Around…him. This is a woman he saw take down ten bandits while she hummed a piano sonata to herself without breaking a sweat! 

He can’t help but grin to himself, smug with satisfaction that he caught her off guard. Second time he accomplished the feat with her. First being when he unexpectedly fucked her on his mortal grave after Cazador perished. He never had something so godsdamned ethereal beneath him, with his bite marks adorning her peachy skin, claiming her as his own. 

Then, he ran. Leaving her a shivering babe on his unhallowed tombstone. Terrified to want. Doubtful his yearning for an intimate connection without sex would ever be sated. 

“Here for the show, cowboy?” Bonnie asks, smiling into her glass of whiskey. Her tone is peculiar: sultry; richer; an octave lower. Not what he remembers. 

Astarion chances a quick glance at Bonnie’s side profile, breath stuttering when he makes out the details of a turkey vulture feather tied into a short braid tucked behind her ear. After all the misery he brought on her, she kept that ugly thing like some memento she couldn’t let go. Maybe she’s forgotten about its significance and just likes it dangling from her strands, but that wouldn’t match who she is. She’s wearing it on purpose.

He doesn’t remark on the accessory, opting to leave their reunion unsoured. Instead, he recollects how she got that feather in the first place. Her gang was starving, food scarce on the frontier, and he assisted her in hunting down some vultures as a last resort. At first, he agreed for his own selfish reasons, needing to further manipulate her into trusting and caring for him so she’d help him smoke his master. Then, Bonnie had plucked out one of the bird’s feathers, telling him that the critters reminded her of him: lives circling, harbinging death, but hiding light in their wings. He told her his wings shattered ages ago and she squeezed his hand something sweet and thoughtful, murmuring that “stars shine brightest in the dark.” Astarion hadn’t ever been touched in a way without someone expecting relations in return. From that moment on, his feelings towards her were complicated. 

“I guess that depends on what kind of show this is and if it’s worth my while,” Astarion answers, nonchalantly sipping his wine. 

Bonnie wets her lips. “Mm. I think you’ll be fond of the main event, but it’s the grand finale that’s guaranteed to really shoot off.” 

He smirks, pleased that their coded exchanges haven’t altered. Though, he does briefly wonder if she brought him here to get rev—

“Not here for revenge if that’s what you’re thinkin’,” she clarifies as if reading his mind. Thoughtlessly, her fingertip traces along her glass’s rim. “Got other business that brought me here.”

A sigh of relief quietly sneaks through his lips. He turns, wine in hand, back now pressed into the counter as he scans the locals. “Then, I’m all pointy ears.”

Bonnie nods in the direction of an unkempt man and woman—drows—trying to avoid her gaze. “Two fleas with black bandanas and a red sigil stitched in.”

Scarlet eyes narrow at the couple, studying their behavior. They’re jittery, anticipating things to probably end badly. Astarion hears them chattering fast, but can’t make out what they’re saying amidst all the excitement. Helping Bonnie out of this would be the perfect way for him to capture her. He knows she intends to pay him, hence her blood she deliberately spilt to persuade him there. Feeding on her will get him close enough to tie her up, a flawless plan.

“What did you do for those roughnecks to trail you?”

“I lived,” she breathes out somberly. 

He lifts a brow, curiosity begging to be indulged. Can he trust her? Her bounties say otherwise. But, emotions are a hell of a blindside when it comes to someone he once cared for. Cheekily, he taps twice at his fang. “And what’s my reward if I decide to engage?”

World is in slow motion when her head pivots, craning her neck to regard him directly. Wintery blue eyes and sun-kissed freckles dabbled across her delicate rosy upper cheeks, welcome him from underneath her hat. She’s aged a bit, couple more smile lines added. Her weight gain has filled out her curves in a way that dampens his mouth. 

Hells, how is she still so lovely?

“I think you know what your reward is,” she simpers, tugging her scarf down to show him the surface level cut she made on the side of her neck. 

Nostrils flare, transfixed by the coagulated droplets along the cut’s seam. “After this, we need to talk,” Astarion fans out shakily, somewhat keeping his composure.

Bonnie blows him a kiss. “Don’t worry, I won’t slip away—not yet anyways.” 

Least she’s being honest.

“How are we doing this?” he asks, setting his barely drunk glass down. 

She rustles in her back trouser pocket, presenting a minted coin between her index and thumb fingers. “Remember how to do the ‘Whistlin’ Bullseye’?”

He scoffs at her, crossing his arms defiantly. “Really? That’s your grand strategy?! Why don’t I just convince them to join me outside and dispose of them the old-fashioned way: my teeth.”

A finger flies up to her mouth. “Shh, keep your voice down, will ya? Listen, I’m not looking to kill them, just…run them off. It’ll make things worse otherwise.”

His gaze softens. “Bon, I—“

“‘Starion, please,” she pleads, flicking her lengthy lashes up at him.

Astarion’s head is spinning, lost in her cool eyes. He never could say no to her. “Fine. We do this quick.”

She smiles big. Hopeful. Spirited, lovely, Bonnie. “You know the signal.” She rolls up her sleeves and squats down to pick up a fiddle case he hadn’t noticed, unlatching it to remove the instrument inside. The rest of her whiskey is shot down her gullet in a singular gulp. “Now wait here, I have a show to do.” 

He watches her hips sway—ones he had dug his fingers into for dear life as she moaned his name—leading herself to a neighboring table already occupied. One of the men seated respectfully allows her to hold onto his shoulder as she hoists herself up onto the furniture. The vampire stays put, patiently skimming his digits along his revolver’s grip stuffed into his waistband.

“Could I have everyone’s attention?” Bonnie hollers, waving that fiddle bow in the air. Head after head rotates in her direction, voices dying on imbibed tongues. A few wolf whistles rise and fall. Astarion rolls his eyes at that. Bastards are nowhere in her league. 

“Much obliged,” she says, tipping her hat. “I know too many women aren’t known for playing the fiddle out in these parts, but if you’d allow me, I’d love to play a song for y’all.”

“Sweetheart, you can do anything you want to us!” a random person yells aloud, causing the building to erupt with mirthful hysterics. 

In the racket, Astarion tracks the couple from earlier. They’re whispering harshly now, absorbed in a private argument. What is he up against? One…no…two measly pistols by his observation. Idiots. 

Bonnie is grinning ear to ear, pretending their pathetic attempts to flirt are funny. “Alright, settle down.” A wave of silence rushes through the crowd again. It’s been a long while since Astarion last heard her sing, longer yet since he listened to that chordophone in her hands. 

He waits, dislodging his ear canals of any interference. He waits, a twist of elation behind his ribs. He waits, desiring to be captivated with her nightingale song that once soothed his hurt. He waits and waits and waits, but she does not sing. 

What Bonnie does do, is furiously run that bow along the fiddle’s strings like an exorcism she’s committed to jigging out. It’s odd, unprecedented even, that she’s not purifying the room with a seraphic hymn. Usually, she belts out a chorus in between her fiddle solos, expanding her diaphragm that naturally soaks the spotlight. 

Astarion’s sight clings on the slightest twitch at her lips, quivering as it does when she’s mulling. Why isn’t she singing? He nips his inner cheek. There’s a begotten memory of her, a spell that breaks inside him in a way that history’s been rewritten. Could something awful have happened? Bonnie’s whole life is attached to music, to song. He could ask her, set aside their wavering qualms tangling them together, but he wasn’t sure it was wise to crack open that coffin containing their heartstrings when he didn’t know what else would spew out.

Boots are tip-tapping on top the table as she continues to play, maintaining her hastening tempo. The audience is clapping, encouraging her with praise. Sweat bolts down her temples and disappears beneath her shirt’s collar. Lit lantern twines are quaking as notes sporadically bounce from the ceiling rafters. Bonnie’s eyes raise from the fingerboard on her instrument, sweeping out to find Astarion. She winks at him, a cue that it’s time to let his silver fly. 

It’s the coin she tosses above her that kicks off the havoc. She whistles, shrill and crisp, then crouches low with her hands basketing over her ears. Astarion clutches his gun, ripping it from the front of its snuggled up place in the front of his pants, and shuts one eye as he aims at the coin.

Rhapsody. That’s what he calls the revolver. One of two he owns. Pewter and gold, rubies inlet into the frame. Cazador Szarr’s old weapon that Astarion nabbed, vowing to cleanse its evil sins by practicing being a do-gooder where it counts—somewhat. No one cares about murder when it comes to killing the right folks and he did enjoy the added tidbit of instilling a little fear that comes with being a gunsman.

Smoke plumes appear after the gun’s recoil, happening faster than the eye can see. Identifying the culprit seems less important than chancing death and the saloon soon ignites into screams. People scamper about like pill bugs until the place is cleared out, leaving behind half-filled spittoons and toppled liquor cups rolling gently in place. 

Bonnie hops down from the table, rushing to the doors to peer out into the evening. “Don’t see anyone lingering. Can you sense them?”

Astarion walks to the table, bending to retrieve the fallen coin. It’s warm in his palm, his gun’s bullet fragment lodged into the circular object’s engravings. He inhales a practiced breath through his nose. “The only scent I detect is yours, darlin’. Seems like your rats got scared away by your reckless scheme.”

She laughs. “It worked, didn’t it?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I still believe my method would have been less sloppy, but seeing as we haven’t seen each other in years, think of it as a ‘welcome back’ gift.”

“Then, I guess I should count my lucky stars you showed up.” She saunters to the bar. He can hear her shuffling around, glass tinks echoing, whiskey pouring into a glass. She whirls, facing him with drinks in her hands, one being the wine he purchased earlier. “Have a drink with me while we chat? Before you get your payment. For old time’s sake.”

There’s something in the vacillating fog that separates them, warning him to decline. He should harden himself to her, seize her for his bounty, and leave. Praying to himself for the courage to ignore that kind smile and valor she retains. His mind doesn’t catch up until after he already agrees, shaking his head more eagerly than he expects. 

They sit across from each other at a fairly spotless table, Bonnie sliding his glass to him. “So, a bounty hunter, eh? Can’t say I saw that comin’.”

He places the glass rim between his lips, allowing the burgundy liquid to splash against his teeth. “Let’s not avoid talking about that little stunt you just pulled. Why is the Baenre Gang on your hide?” Astarion asks, intently staring at her. 

The gleam on her expression dissipates. 

“Did you think I didn’t know?” he persists, thinking about the cherry-red spiderweb sigil embroidered on the drow’s bandanas. “Baenre has been expanding their territory this past year, causing quite the panic throughout Faerûn.”

She purses her mouth. “I don’t particularly want to talk about them.”

Astarion glugs the rest of his wine. “No? Then, let’s talk about these warrants that are out for your immediate arrest. Since when did Bonnie Sparrows reduce herself to nothing more than an imprudent criminal?” he chides.

Bonnie blinks at him, tilting her head. “Why don't you remind me what crimes I’m being accused of?” she goads.

He holds his hand and starts to count. “Robbing a stagecoach, stealing a horse, arson.” His skin pinches together in the middle of his brows, distraught by the last offense he means to speak. “And the murder of the Harper Clan’s leader, Jaheira. I don’t understand, Bon, wasn’t she like a mother to you?”

Tears well up as she bites her lip. “How do you know I was the one who committed them?”

Astarion’s fist knocks on the table twice. “Eyewitnesses. Bullets similar, if not, identical to that peacemaker you’ve always been packing.”

“You believe the evidence?”

“It’s overwhelmingly pointing to you, unless you can come up with reliable alibis.”

Bonnie swivels her head, evading his scrutinizing glare. He thickly swallows, partially dreading what he has to do next. Rhapsody raises from under the table, aimed at her elegant neck. She slowly sails those almost translucent baby blues to the firearm and fucking smirks.

“I don’t care about most of your transgressions—hells, some of it even sounds fun—but killing the savior of the Shadowlands has turned the whole continent inside out and they want blood…your blood,” he says, clicking back the gun’s hammer. “Be grateful it’s me that found you and not someone else that would crucify you on the spot. Given our history, the very least I can do is be fair to you.”

The room begins congesting with her disruptive sardonic laughter, thrashing her head back, something tittering on denial and sorrow. She holds up her hands in the air. “Suppose I need to fess up! Sure, I did it and I enjoyed every moment of it,” she growls, suddenly throwing her peacekeeper and a knife onto the table. “Here. Confiscate them. Let’s get this over with before dawn melts your ass to a crisp and I’m blamed for your death as well.”

Astarion eases himself from his seat, revolver steady on his bounty. Gradually, he inches closer to her, watching—always watching—her movements. Have to expect the unexpected with a woman like Bonnie, no matter how tenderhearted she might be. He gestures the gun tip upwards, motioning her to stand, proceeding to unhook ropes from his wide belt. 

“Hands and legs together,” he instructs. “I think we both understand that if you try anything, it’ll end very badly for you.” Of course she knows; she’s been privy to his gunwork on several occasions. He’s a swifter, deadlier draw and if she tries to tempt fate by running, either his lead or fangs would get her.

She stands, kicking back her chair, putting her arms in front of her body as requested. The spawn decocked the weapon’s hammer, cramming it back into his pants. He shakes out one of the ropes, folding it in half, and sets forth on wrapping it around her wrists. 

He’s glad he has gloves on, skin to skin contact guaranteeing he’ll burst into flames as his fingers coast against her flesh. A cinch is formed in the middle when he brings the rope underneath, looping it back up until he knots it entirely into a perfect double column tie. He gives it a precursory tug, peeping at her through his unfurled black lashes. “Does it hurt?” he questions, deeper than intended.

“N-no.” That flush on Bonnie couldn’t be missed, descending from her face to her neck. She’s wholly dazed when she finally looks at him with half-lidded eyes. Astarion wonders if the abrupt fresh odor of mellifluous musk, delightfully invading his nostrils, is her arousal. His stomach flutters. “You know, I always did want to be tied up by you.”

Her admission inconveniently goes straight to his cock, making the poor neglected thing jolt behind his leathers. “Flirting isn’t going to get you out of this.” Astarion tugs the knot again, rechecking his handiwork. “But, I can assure you, it wasn’t for a lack of not wanting to. You just always managed to escape from my grasp,” he pokes in return, unable to resist a bout of coquetry. 

Sussing out the knots he should use on her ankles, he slinks southward onto his knees. The next rope binds her comparably to her wrists, squarely knotting it and making sure the bight is in a perfect position. Again, he pulls on the rope, testing for its security and her comfort. 

“Not gonna let me go this time?” Bonnie says softly.

“This time? What do you mean—” Pupils enlarge as he raises, organs contorting when he finds her gaze a wistful longing. Fragile. She’s all fragile. He grabs the knot at her wrists, grazing his thumb alongside it as if to console her. “Bonnie…I never meant to betray you.”

Ichor fiercely rushes to her parted lips. “Save it. I’m not interested in rehashin’ the past with you,” she spits.

“Then, why’d you come back? You’re not a dumb woman; you had to have known the law would be on you as soon as you entered the city. So, why?”

“Some things are more important than my wounded pride,” she whispers, boring her eyes into his. “I also had to see.”

“See what?” he inquires, feeling her heat rising from her skin.

“See if you would listen,” she responds flatly.

“Listen about what?” Something is amiss. Intentional. Remember, Bonnie is intentional. But, Astarion is ensnared by her warmth and her perfumed oils darting into his nose. Gardenia. Smoked tea. Desert moss. Oils that are drowning him in sleepy memories of her. 

Bonnie’s smile is crooked. Here it comes. “When I tell you that you’re a man that’s about to fall asleep in thirty seconds.”

Fuck.

Astarion plummets to the ground, limbs giving out. “Bonnie, godsdamned you!” 

She scoots back a few feet, balancing her bound body while avoiding his thrashing arms. “Angelic Slumber Potion. Perhaps you should’ve thought twice before drinking with someone you don’t know anymore.” The wine glass, she laced the glass!

He scratches the top of the table for leverage, sweating profusely as he tries to defy the potion’s effects. Oh, but sleep sounds nice and his eyes are heavy, drooping just so. Heavier than they’ve ever been. Dreams will come and maybe he’ll meet her there. The woman he can’t admit he ever…

Somehow he’s on his back, staring into his fate that’s coffee-stained beauty spots and suffocating in red-orange marigold tresses surrounding, surrounding, surrounding his vision.

Bonnie chucks his ropes onto his chest, attending to her sore wrists. “When you wake up, I want you to remember something: I’m the one you let get away.”

No wonder his love life is a mess.

Chapter Summary:

What happened five years ago?

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Story Summary:

He’s admittedly apprehensive to approach the lady; they didn’t part on the best of terms. And life changes people, for better or worse. The Bonnie he knew may be lost to a past he would have to mourn in the dust. Was he prepared for that? To slough her from his memory like a rattlesnake sheds its skin. He furrows his thick brows, contemplating if he should leave before she notices him. No, he needs to properly face her. Put things to bed so they could both move on without any lingering questions.

Besides, unbeknownst to her, he’s there for far more than a trip down nostalgia lane or his lust after her crimson draft. Woman has warrants out on her name and a man has a bounty to collect.

-☆ -

Chapter 1: Goodbye, Little Darlin', Goodbye

Ao3

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Word Count: 7.7k

Pairing: Bounty Hunter/Cowboy Astarion x female western bard OC

CW: Smut, PTSD during sex, language, blood

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Five Years Ago

Astarion never cared much for flowers. Trite growths existing for a short time, only to wither til they’d completely dried out—similar to his mortality that his undeath leeched. Thirty-nine living years stolen by his master’s vampiric kiss. Then, two centuries walking with a husk of his own desiccated blood and organs like the top of some dusty mesa.

But, having Bonnie Sparrows sprawled out on his grave resembling sunbathed petals, shushed those thoughts six feet under. 

A month had passed. The Reverend Szarr was plenty dead, and aside from the compelling power he held over his spawned children rupturing for good, there was no trace left behind. Not even a single speck of ash lay in his wake for them to find. Course, that’s what he had coming to him. Reach too high with the devil’s contracts trying to crow like a rooster, one may be liable to end up as a feather duster.

Astarion and his fellow spawn never found who killed Cazador, neither did they unearth any clues as to what happened to the bastard. Fingers were pointed for a while, but they soon realized none of them really had the means to accomplish such a thing, especially being under his thrall. Szarr’s death meant “The Rite of Profane Ascension” had been halted, with seven-thousand former would-be sacrifices turned loose. The house spawn guided them, feral and bloodthirsty, down into no man’s land of the Underdark, where they worked diligently to give them some sort of new life. 

Seemed almost a waste that Astarion’s plans, created with a bunch of questionable heroes hankering for revenge to end his master’s eternal life, never came to fruition, but then he would have never met Bonnie. His Bonnie. She waited, patient and supportive, while he dealt with the unexpected emptiness scraping at his soul because he wasn’t instantly filled with relief or happiness untethered to his tormentor. Justice that felt unfairly denied that he hadn’t been the one putting the Reverend to a final rest. Eventually, when Astarion was good and ready to seek Bonnie out after he made work out of burning Cazador’s pervertible bordello—prostitution house—down, it finally appeared like he may be a free man once and for all. 

The night sky burdened the Western Heartlands with navy and indigo blues, lush with a shimmering tapestry of white jewels the day Astarion decided he would have Bonnie. He showed up on her doorstep, nervous with mysterious passion in his non-beating heart, and pecked the top of her hand as he asked her to follow him to the city’s outskirts. 

He whisked her away under the bloating moon to a bone orchard long forgotten, save for the occasional preacher man wandering by with prayers to redeem its silent residents from perdition. Most of a sun blanched wooden fence, barely protecting the place, laid helpless in the grass. Engravings on nearly all the headstones had succumbed to algae’s decay, serving them a hearty banquet.

“Here we are,” Astarion said, quickly inspecting their surroundings for any possible interruptions. 

“A graveyard?” she smiled, confusedly scanning the burial sites. “You know, when you asked me to take a walk with you tonight, I wasn’t expectin’ such a gloomy place for our first official outin’.”

“Considering I’m a vampire, I prefer some things to remain classics for a reason,” Astarion chuckled. He anxiously cleared his throat. “I-I actually wanted to show you something. Something I haven’t shown to anyone.”

“Better not be a corn cob hidden in your pants again,” Bonnie teased, “Or any other piece of food for that matter.”

He pulled her into him, resting one hand on the side of her waist as he continued holding onto the other as if they were about to dance. “I don’t remember you complaining.”

She stuck her tongue out. “Cuz I let you get away with it.”

“More than you realize,” he murmured, thinking about the lies he had yet to fess up to her. Lies that took advantage of her good nature to serve his benefit. How does a man turn a blow into a subtle breeze divulging something like that? He didn’t know and it sure as shit didn’t come naturally to him. Tonight though, he would tell her. Clear it all up. She deserved that much…and more. “Come. It should be over here.”

Looming beneath a large maple tree, sat a sole tombstone, fairly tired with age. He brushed away crawling vines and leaves claiming the darn thing, with a sadness striving to moisten his eyes. That tree was probably the only living thing keeping the grave company these days, with no indication anybody visited to put memorial trinkets on it. Astarion was grateful for that in a sense. Coming upon a wilted flower basket may have done more damage than good to what was left of his mental state, having plumb forgotten everyone he used to know. Most of them were probably dead anyhow.

“This tree wasn’t as big the last time I saw it,” he reflected, looking above them to admire its boughs. “When I reached the surface, coughing up congealed blood and dirt, Cazador was waiting with this maple as a ‘gift.’ He told me he planted it so I would never forget that it would continue to keep growing and living on—unlike me. And that’s why I needed him, to guide me in those ways through eternity.” He paused, exhaling a choppy breath. “From that day on, I belonged to him, and became livestock for his needs.”

Bonnie gasped, swiftly lowering herself to her knees to place a hand onto the cool stone. The date of his passing and name were read aloud, as she swerved a finger into the elegant markings. “Hang on a tick…this is your grave?!”

“Yes, it is.” The pale elf sat beside her. “There’s nothing inside except for a vacant coffin,” he sighed dolefully, running a hand through those silver locks. “The man I was has laid here, dead and buried. I can barely remember who he used to be aside from some greenhorn magistrate who’s name is carved here under a tree that was meant to be a mockery of me.”

Couple of minutes passed in silence. “I-I’m so sorry, Star,” she whispered hoarsely, balling a fist against her chest. “I don’t know what to say.”

What he failed to mention, was that he didn’t take her there for her to pity him. No, he brought her there because he didn’t want at least one person to forget he lived. Really lived. And Bonnie constantly jabbered away at him like she was grateful he was there at all, even as a sanguinary vampire spawn. Nobody had ever cared about him in a way that made his belly ache with confusion and a longing for their presence. 

He hooked a finger below her chin, urging her to face him. “You have nothing to be sorry about, my dear. In fact, I should be thanking you.” 

“Thankin’ me? But, why?” she inquired, canting her head. 

“For the last six months, you’ve stayed by my side through all this anguish—this horror—foolishly trusting and caring about me, even when your life was put in danger.” Astarion sweetly caught her wrist, grazing her fingertips against his lips to peck. “You feel like home. A safe home where I feel seen,” he answered, fidgety nerves biting like minnows at the back of his throat.

Hindsight being what it tends to be, it was hard to believe Bonnie was the same woman he almost led to her demise half a year ago. It’d been a time since he went after a beautiful victim to bring to Cazador—typically sticking to drunkards and petty criminals since they were idiotic enough to manipulate—but then she came galloping in on that spotted horse of hers through the city, with a sabre at her hip and a long barrel peacekeeper aimed at those who were doing wrong. Though she was part of some fearless vigilante gang called “The Balladeers”, he had never met someone so tough and as gentle as a babe in his entire life. 

Astarion had followed her to some forgettable hole-in-the-wall saloon, desiring a vixen instead of pests to stave off his usual boredom, and wasn’t prepared for Bonnie to give him a run for his money. She’d been eyeing him the whole evening until she mustered up the courage to buy him a drink. He’d turned up the dial with his flirting, using his best lines and all, but she just wanted to get to know him. Come to find out, she liked people. Genuinely, liked them, giving them proper dignity and a listening ear where it was due. And that’s why that drop of honey in a world full of bad seeds had so many fluttering to her.

Eventually, he learned that Bonnie wasn’t the type to sleep around with just anyone, making it impossible to lure her back to the bordello. She liked that sorta “getting swept off her feet” romance that was a slow burning fire between two individuals. So, when she denied his advances during that initial encounter, his curiosity eventually turned into a side project to scheme and work her into helping him escape his master’s clutches. 

Then, he fell for her. A falling star smacking right dab in the middle of a solar globe.

“Don’t sell yourself short! I just happened to be rollin’ on by wishin’ to offer some kinda hope that you didn’t have to go at this alone.” A rosy blush bathed her cheeks. “You,” she began, turning his hand to peck his knuckles in return, “are one of the strongest men I know and I admire you for that. You strove to keep goin’, even when our plans to kill the Reverend were at a dangerously critical point of bein’ found out.” She pointed a finger, booping his nose. “‘Sides, turns out I winded up fancyin’ your sophisticated ass.”

“My ass is sophisticated, isn’t it?” Her wrist found a kiss pressed into it, as he mischievously found her gaze under his dark lashes. “Tell me more.”

A dainty sigh left Bonnie’s lips. “Fishin’ for vanity?”

“Always,” he admitted, smirking into her skin. “I do love hearing about me after all, but if you’re feeling a bit envious, I suppose I could pay you a few compliments in return.”

“Lords have mercy, I’m not feelin’ envious!” she cackled, jokingly sniping her hand back. 

He caught her by surprise when the pin in her hair fell unceremoniously to the ground after his lithe hand snuck to remove it. A coppery dawn just for him to marvel as her mane settled around her shoulders. “No? So, it wouldn’t make you feel good if I told you how ravishing you look with your hair down?”

She reached out to brush her fingers along his crow’s feet, intently staring into his garnet irises. “Only about as good as me tellin’ you that your piercin’ eyes make me feel both intimidated and shy.”

“I like making you feel shy,” he said, tucking strands behind the pointed tip of her ear.

“D-do you now?” Bonnie stuttered, blood swelling her lips.

“Very much so. Especially when your lips are flushed as they are now.” Astarion licked his thumb, swiped it across her lips, then put it back into his mouth to briefly suck on it. “Mmm. Sweet.”

Oh, but that wasn’t the only thing that was sweet: Bonnie was dripping for him. 

He had a mind to tell her how delicious her pussy smelled, let that demure reaction consume her entire body for him to gloat about. But, before their first time, there was a certain innocent doting he wanted to preserve for a little while longer that was frequently seen in new lovers. The kind where anticipation produced excitable giggles and nose rubbing kisses. Small affections he never experienced with anyone prior to her.

However, Astarion couldn’t stop Bonnie propelling herself forward, finding his lips to knead and desperately relieving some of that heated tension that had been baking for months. Her hands twisted into his shirt, preventing him from flying off if he got it in his head he needed to scoot. Tender kisses led to hazy seconds slipping on, until she lightly sucked on his bottom lip as a promise for more. An electric bolt shot straight to his groin when the tip of her tongue accidentally bumped his fang, him wondering for the millionth time if her blood tasted as sugary as he fantasized. 

“S’rry,” she panted against his mouth, loosening her fists to slightly lean away. Could her embarrassment be any more adorable thinking of his comfort first and foremost? 

Astarion cupped the fullest part of her cheek, softly prodding her to look at him. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

An unbridled exhale from her nose warmed his face when he closed the distance to slot his lips against hers, mouth all but begging to be ravaged. His eyes shut, honing in on her delightful mewls she tried to hold back that only incited him to continue. She gripped his elbow, using him as a pillar to steady herself from probably melting in a puddle—which he understood because he felt it too. Astarion poured everything he wanted to tell her into those kisses. Every lie. Every emotion. Every undead and human part of himself. Capturing her breath over and over to suck her living spirit into him. It didn’t make sense how damned perfect their lips fit together, only that his need to wholly have her was increasing by each beat of her heart drumming in his ears.

Lingering kisses soon turned into satiny ticklish pecks, slowing their tempo enough for him to playfully shove her giggling form backwards to the earth. He seductively climbed over top of her, a hemovore beelining it for his prey, wedging himself in the middle of her partially spread legs. As he hovered above her flustered body, eyes flickering to her plump, swollen lips that were happily smiling at him, the vampire thought about how smitten he’d become with Bonnie. When did he start to really notice those first niggles turning his sentiments underside? The turkey vulture hunts? Their first kiss in the corn field? Or maybe it happened eons before, fate wiggling its way in the first night they met.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Bonnie asked, frosty eyes concerned. 

He lowered himself to kiss her forehead, her eyelashes. “It’s only that sometimes when you smile at me, it’s hard to believe I may be the one bringing that about.”

Her stare became magnifying glasses, rummaging through the meaning of his affectionate admission. “I lov—” she began to mouth, then stopped herself as if it weren’t the right moment. Her arms vine crawled behind his neck, instantly toying with his baby fine nape hairs. “Kiss me again and maybe I’ll consider allowin’ you to keep on doin’ so.”

Astarion quirked his brow. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh, um,” she hesitated, “I meant to say that I love spendin’ time with you. Fangs and all!” 

Cute.

The side of his mouth curved up, decidedly searching the shell of her ear. “You make me want to devour you.”

Bonnie squeaked when he pecked her lobe then affixed his wetted lips to her porcelain neck, sucking a purplish bruise into it. She reflexively tangled her digits in his curls, tugging him closer. The tip of his tongue slithered out to run down her cerulescent jugular vein, worshiping her pulsating crimson he had yet to indulge. 

His hand reached her thigh, hooking her leg around his slender waist so he could give her one very languid hip roll showcasing how absolutely hard his erection was. He grunted into the crook of her neck, prompting her to tremble into the dirt beneath her. 

“Hngh. Astarion, wait,” she whimpered as he kissed the column of her throat. “Are you sure about this?”

At the apex of her thighs, he prodded his aching cock against her again. “Darlin’, can’t you tell that I’ve been dying to have you.”

She shifted under him, pushing at his shoulder. “No, need you to look at me.” He craned his neck to provide eye contact. “Do you want this? I’d like a solid answer and not just some of those honeyed words you use.”

Bless her for asking, truly. Bonnie knew about his past dealings as a sex slave and the autonomy refused to him. Didn’t change her mind about sticking by his side, but she nevertheless made it a habit to search out every nook and cranny regarding his true feelings about whatever the subject may be. 

Astarion did want to have sex. And a gal like Bonnie was more to him than a one nighter that’d never see the light of day again. There was a knowing that sex would reshape their relationship, moving from a forbidden courtship they had to sneak around with like youngsters, into something more tangible. Nothing strange about that, was how all real couples connected on a deeper level, but he desperately wanted to give her this part of himself he hated. It was the only way he knew how to prove he could be with her, to demonstrate the yearning he’d felt for months. The allure of it all was enticing in a way that made him feel possessed.

He truly held onto the belief that if her faith in him miraculously led to Cazador’s death, it could also heal his mutilated soul.

His softened eyes met hers. “Yes, I want this. With you and only you.” Honesty. This was honesty. He was ready. He had to be ready. With her, anything was possible, right? Had to be. 

Bonnie blew on a stray curl that fell into his eyes, maintaining her goodness for him even during such a serious discussion. “Keep in mind we can stop at any moment, no questions asked. You start feelin’ discomfort, that’s that. Same goes for me. Y’hear?” 

Astarion honored her sympathy with a kiss. “Thank you.” He clutched the meat of her thighs and impelled his iron rigidity into her writhing physique, earning him choked expletives from her mouth. “Now, where were we?”

“Do we need…ahh, gods…to worry about anythin’?” 

Halting his dry-humping into her clothed center, he reluctantly lifted himself up on his elbows. “I assume you mean diseases or getting pregnant?” 

She nodded fast. “I don’t mean to make this unromantic, but…”

“Somehow it coming from you, is romantic.” He gingerly kissed her, quelling her concerns. “But, to answer your question, we both have nothing to worry about. Perks of my affliction is that I can’t get you sick and vice versa.” His hand slid down to roost on her belly. “As for pregnancy, my seed is dead. So, no surprise dhampirs crawling after my boots.”

“Okay, good.” Bonnie grabbed his collar, yanking to crash her mouth into his. She parted her lips, inviting his tongue in. “I need you,” she wheezed.

Course, who was he to deny such a tantalizing request?

He gave her lower vermilion a precursory lick, then tunneled his deviant tongue into her open orifice. Their tongues intertwined, eagerly discovering a lazy rhythm that he knew made her cunt gush. 

She wrapped her other leg onto his lower torso, grinding herself against his dick to stimulate her core. “Please,” she begged, “Please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

Her pleas went straight to Astarion’s tip, precum gathering in preparation. Something about having a morsel of control over her pleasure, tightened his balls, and he almost threw away his gentlemanly manners to bury himself in her straight away.

“I know, my sweet. You’re being such a good girl for me, but I need you to hold out for a while longer. Do you think you can do that?” It was such a simple request coming from him, but the power it had over her was a sight to behold.

Bonnie flashed him a lustful gaze under her furled lashes. “Yes. I’ll do anything for you.”

To reward her, he coolly pecked the corner of her lips. “There is,” he started, brushing the backside of his fingers on her jaw, inching them just so to skim her exposed collarbone, “a question that has been bothering me for months I’ve needed an answer to.”

“Yes?” she clasped his forearms, giving them a meek wrench as she waited for him to answer. 

Her breathing sped up as Astarion nestled kisses into her clavicle hollow, winding a trail to the roundness of her heaving bosom where her clothing interrupted him. Bonnie donned a corset cover buttoned up past her cleavage with feminine lace sewed into the thin arm openings. Usually, it wasn’t proper for a lady to walk about sans multiple layers exposing so much skin, but she didn’t care. Woman was an unconventional rarity, but Astarion liked that about her. That edge she possessed, that somehow demanded respect from even the most religious of men, had him sickeningly enamored with her.

The cover’s buttons popped open one by one until her corset was unveiled. Pretty thing was teal, constructed with cotton and a busk for easier removal. He carefully unclasped the busk, taking his time to enjoy her erratic breaths fanning out in patient fervency. When he folded back the garment on either side, he grinned at her pebbling nipples curiously seeking attention through her chemise. His index finger circled a clothed bud and she hissed, arching into his touch.

Sensitive minx.

Bowing his head, Astarion’s teeth seized the lace chemise’s neckline, dragging it southwards to reveal her torso’s nakedness. What met him were two mouth-watering tits that caused his shaft to strain against his trousers. Breasts weren’t normally his favorite feature on a person, but hells, Bonnie’s came bouncing out practically demanding to be bitten.

“Mm.” He pinched her nipple, salaciously witnessing a flurry of goosebumps invade her flesh. “Pink. I wondered what color they were,” he reported.

She watched, half-lidded and unbearably aroused, when his tongue darted out to swirl her peak. He gave it one obscene suck that hollowed his cheeks and released it with a lewd pop. Heat sweltered throughout her pores as he suctioned his chill plush lips around her nipple to savor it with modest nibbles, her cry rapidly forcing its way into the universe. To soothe her, his tongue kitten-licked her raw teat, humming as he coated it in his spit.

Noticing he neglected to tend to her other breast, he started fondling it in his free hand, struggling to fit the mass of it in his grasp. He squeezed it, areola puckering from the applied friction belonging to his palm. 

“Ngh,” she fidgeted, winded from his mania on her tits. “You’re makin’ me crazy!” 

He nabbed her waist, suppressing her need to squirm. “Keep moving around and I may accidentally bite you,” he warned in a low growl. 

Bonnie’s hands sailed to the crown of his head, casually massaging his scalp. “I-I wouldn’t mind if you did,” she bashfully offered.

Man almost came in his pants right there. 

Now, drinking from Bonnie had nothing to do with a lack of an actual want on his behalf, but everything to do with not being permitted to sup from humans by his former creator. Was one of the cocksucker’s commandments that all vampire spawn had to abide. Break those rules and the next year being “pampered” with torture devices became a regular routine until the offender was broken in well and good. 

Still, Astarion lusted in his daydreams after that first burst of thinking creature blood hitting his gluttonous buds, wondering if the gaminess he tasted in smaller animals was replaced by a delicacy more refined. And Bonnie? Gods, he couldn’t even fathom what her life essence might resemble. Perhaps some combination of sunlight and the floating heavens. 

“A-Are you sure, darlin’? I’ve never done this before—with a thinking creature I mean. You would be my first.” He couldn’t help but be in awe of this woman, never ceasing to surprise or revoke her trust in him. 

“I trust you,” she reassuringly smiled.

A bout of thrilling unease jumped into his larynx. “I know where to bite, so you won’t be harmed. It’s only that my practice has been limited to—”

“Hey,” she poked his cheek, “said I trust you.” 

Astarion swallowed, brushing his fingers along the velvety span of her neck. “Would your neck be okay?”

“I think so? Yes?” she tittered. “Won’t really know until we get to that point, but I’ll tell you if it becomes too much.” Suddenly, her hands were scritching at his shirt. “Can we take this off? I want to feel your skin on me while we do this.” 

Guilt weighed on him like a horseshoe as his thoughts trotted to and fro. He needed to confess his sins to her before they continued. Make good on his silent promises to this angelic savior. As their intimacy was increasing fourfold,  Astarion recognized that biting without sapping her dry would be a sensual experience that most vampires didn’t share with mortals. Engaging in something so special without first clearing his slate, wouldn’t be fair to her. 

What minute color was left in his face, drained out. “Bonnie, we need to—” 

A finger tapped against his lips. “Shh. Unless you need to stop, whatever you have to say can wait. I’m not goin’ anywhere,” she spoke softly. “Promise.”

He had to believe her, right? She wasn’t one to regale him with tall tales and dishonesty that was unbecoming. In the end, his bucket of dayshine would be there for him. Waiting. Always waiting for him to fall into her arms.

“Right, well, I—ahem—don’t want you thinking I don’t care about you is all. Because I do,” he sheepishly averted her sight. “Quite a lot, in fact.” It may not have been the agonizing truth he wanted to tell her, but it was a truth nonetheless. And if presumably his sincerity was by chance remembered in a compassionate light later on when he did get the opportunity to spill the rest, all the better for him! 

Blossoming red patches splashed her entire self. Dew glazed a thin veil pane across her eyes that Astarion was wanting to get lost in. “Feels like I’ve been waitin’ a lifetime to hear that from you.”

He pecked her palm several times, cherishing her good heart. “I wanted to take my time with you tonight, give you as much pleasure as time would afford, but I don’t think you understand how long I’ve wanted this—wanted you.”

She invitingly bit her lower lip, moving to untuck his shirt out of his pants. “Then, have me.”

Buttons on his shirt loosened as he facilitated her movements. He chuckled at her serious expression when she endeavored to unstick a button and shooed his hand away when he tried to aid. A simper adorned her as she took her time, intentionally appreciating his abs contracting with titillation as her knuckles scraped against them.

“Enjoying yourself?” he teased, finally shimmying out of the shirt.

“Damned right I am!” Bonnie gawked indecently at his planes of lean chest and ab muscles. His skin virtually glowed in the moon’s beams as he canopied her figure. “You’re so handsome…“

Astarion distracted her with a roguish kiss, moving to wrangle her skirt and petticoat past her thighs. Suffering with her blood singing a hymn to him through her vibrating vein thumps and his need to have his cock inside her tightness, he was becoming desperate to move their interlude forward. 

“What are you doin’?” she puffed out.

A fang arduously clipped her lip, all but drawing blood. “I thought I would make this enjoyable for us both. Do you object?”

“Touch me,” she ordered, legs inherently spreading wide to his predatory touch.

His hand drifted up Bonnie’s quivering inner thigh, her hurriedly babbling a prayer when he reached the section where her thigh met her outer lips. “Gods, you’re bare,” he noted, purring low into her ear discovering she had foregone her under drawers. “Can I check?” 

“Check what?” she rasped into his ear as he left a brisk kiss on the side of her neck.

“To see how wet I’ve made your pussy.” Astarion didn’t wait for the wood elf’s reply, instead he ran his index finger in a straight line down her folds, drenching it in her sopping juices. “Oh, darlin’, is this what I’ve done to you?”

Bonnie shook her head to affirm, hands finding respite on his shoulders. She must’ve remembered him confiding to her that he didn’t quite like having the scars on his back touched because she never let those kind fingers of hers cross his invisible boundary once. He was grateful, cadaveric heart swelling at her consideration for him even during such a carnal moment.

Astarion’s finger soared to her clit, mindful of his claw-like nails harming her by mistake. He found her nub swollen and enlivened as she contracted her slit. His finger traced a halo, circling it, paying blissful tithes to the rapacious spot. The way she moaned his name made him bask, pride filling his ego as a man that could confidently brag he brought satisfaction to a woman like Bonnie. Then, his digit stroked her clit directly, spreading her slippery labia to ensure that little bundle of nerves got the attention it deserved. 

“Oh my gods…right there!” she wailed, sweat beading on her face.

“You’re doing so good,” he praised, compressing his stiff dick into her thigh for relief. 

She shivered when his weight pinned her tits to his naked chest and he began to hump her thigh in succession with every pass he made over her throbbing clit. He bit back a filthy grunt as he chased after his ecstasy on her leg, images of that depraved mouth of hers gorged with his rock hard girth. 

“I want you to make me cum,” she deliberately whined, tongue dipping into his mouth to twirl round the tip of his. He presumed she must’ve gotten a taste of the mint leaves he chewed earlier because she crept her tongue further in and massaged along the topside of his tongue with an audible “mmm.”

“When I do,” he roughly hissed on a notable buck into her thigh, letting her catch her breath, “you’re going to look so exquisite coming undone on my fingers.”

The tip of his finger edged along her whetted inner lips until it found her gaping pussy hole. He inserted an inch into her, testing the scalding snugness. A tight fit, but he already knew she would take his cock so well when the time came. He groaned, practically drooling when she automatically clenched onto him. Bonnie sobbed, positioning those hips to rock further on the inches he had yet to stick in. 

As he sensed her climax growing closer, he skirted his razored cuspids across her taut neck, signaling he was going to asphyxiate his fangs in her blood. Bonnie smirked and angled her head for him to settle his mouth onto his preferred area. He licked a particularly salivating region, marking the balmy pastel blue vein frantically chirring.

The pallid elf nuzzled his lips into her, aware of her nervousness. “Breathe,” he cooed. 

Drawn out deep breaths puffed from her puckered mouth one after the other until she shut her eyes. “R-Ready.”

Astarion’s jaw unlatched and his icy teeth sank and sank and sank into the delicate peel of her flesh. At that precise moment, he had two revelations: thinking creature’s blood had to be the most addictive substance in the world and Bonnie’s cunt was as greedy to be fucked as his need to feed. 

Was there ever a lovelier sound than her gasping when he plunged his fangs and fingers into her at the same time?

Syrupy nectar flooded his mouth and he could have sworn he was already intoxicated off a singular gulp. His five senses sharpened, two hundred years worth of forced malnutrition morphing into what could only be described as happiness. That crimson combusted throughout him, igniting his body with heat. He proved himself wrong believing his shaft couldn’t fatten anymore than usual, but gods, one sip from her and it was viciously tenting his trousers.

Yet, somewhere in the crux of his ravenous appetite being sated, he thought he heard a shrill voice echoing mummified orders. Astarion tepidly retracted from his feast, unconsciously lazing his lunges into Bonnie’s wetness. Blood dribbled down his chin like some famished mongrel as he adjusted his hearing to zone in on the sounds.

He peeked at her face, lost to the throes of pleasure. Didn’t she hear it too?

“I’m going to cum soon,” she cried out high-pitched, snapping him out of his thoughts. Bonnie’s vaginal walls were quaking, fixing to orgasm the instant he crooked his fingers.

“Hmm? Yes, darlin’, cum for me,” he replied, struggling to redirect his salient thought-wandering.

Vulgar words exited her mouth while he burrowed his fingers inside her, ushering her pressuring climax. Canines latched back onto the wounds he created and nursed a few more mouthfuls of blood. His fingers pumped at a slightly faster speed while gently thumbing her clit, rising from her neck only to sweetly encourage her. And when her pussy convulsed, she sang his name and praises with a prolonged moan that accompanied the torrential liquid bombarding his fingertips.  

Admiration for Bonnie’s form in his arms as he roused her orgasmic glow, should have filled him with a kind of joy bringing about an otherwise loving experience for the woman he’d fallen for, but instead, he felt nothing. He quickly blamed it on that distracting muffled voice stagnating on the precipice of his tried and true fears, hellsbent on giving himself a fair shake to try sharing pleasure with her again.

Astarion slid his soaked fingers out as her intensity subsided and eased her to sit upright. “Did that feel okay?”

Gradually, her vision refocused, tremors reducing to mini bouts of gooseflesh. “Are you kiddin’? I don’t think anyone has ever made me cum that hard in my life!”

He clicked his tongue. “I guess they weren’t trying hard enough.”

She tousled his snowy waves, amused at his brief frown mussing up his coif. “Or maybe it’s because it was you.” 

“They ain’t call me the ‘Buckin’ Bronco’ fer nothin’, lil’ lady,” he jested in a fake thicker accent.

“Literally no one calls you that,” she snickered, rolling her eyes. “And if they did, you’d knife them.”

He kissed her temple, snorting into her hairline. “I hate to admit you’re right, but gods, it is rather awful, isn’t it?” 

Bonnie stretched to tickle his chin, drying blood adhering to her nail. She ironed it between her inquisitive finger ends. “Oh! Hold on.” Collecting a bunched portion of her skirt hem, she spit on it, proceeding to dab it on his chin. “Blood smears.”

Lines crumpled his browline. He cautiously pawed at the puncture marks. “Speaking of, how bad did it hurt?”

“Would you think me a freak if I said it felt sorta…nice?”

A dramatic hand flew to his chest. “Bonnie Sparrows, did you just admit to being turned on by being bitten?!”

For a beat, her suggestive glance flitted to his deviant smugness. She vacuumed in her lips to wet them, mindfully resuming her labor on his chin. “I sure did.” Wanton thing couldn’t hide her desires even if she tried—which she wasn’t. 

The bulging outline in his trousers was still firm when he navigated Bonnie to stall her caretaking to caress it. “Aah. You’re certainly not the only one,” he replied with a pained exhale.

A flush plagued the expanse of her décolletage as she gave his erection feather-light pats, obviously unsure of how he liked to be touched. Hiding his increasing impatience, needing friction like something fierce, he kissed her, bowing her back as he coaxed her to lay onto the grass once more. Bonnie balanced herself onto her forearms, bare breasts shuddering with anticipation. 

Astarion sat back on his knees and unbuttoned his fly, accidentally ripping one of the buttons clear off in his jittery haste. “Hmph. Guess I won’t be needing that,” he acknowledged lightheartedly. 

Double bouts of barreling laughter conjoined, temporarily breaking the ice. 

He sighed. “You would think I’ve never done this before.”

“Well, you haven’t with me.” She squinted at him, scanning his expressions. “Um, do you still want to—?”

Bending to grab her knee, he pecked the inside. “I need to. I want to.” He needed to be healed. He wanted to feel different.

Trousers lowering to his hips, he winced as his pre-cum covered swollenness bobbed out. Cock head was a feverish pink, warmed by her blood coursing through. He spit into his palm for extra lubrication and stroked his tip a few times, boastfully smiling as he watched her study his impressive member. 

Stars were higher in the sky by now, the lulling breeze grazing their bodies seemed to cradle all their dreams and fondness for each other on its gusts. He lined himself up to enter her, gripping his shaft to impeccably angle it into her on that first thrust. They pressed their foreheads together, Bonnie arcing herself onto his shoulders, and moaned in unison as his crown stretched her inch by agonizing inch until he was fully rooted inside. 

His jaw and lips were bombarded with an onslaught of kisses, babbling endearments that made him dizzy. He slowed his undulating hips, allowing her pussy’s creaminess to smother him as she adjusted to his girth. 

“Ungh, Bon…B-Bonnie…so tight and,” he warbled, taking half of his length out and shoving it back in, “deep.”

She kissed his brow above his right eye. “Are you…okay?”

A blissful shiver crawled down his spine. “It just…ngh…feels different. Fuck, it feels—” 

“Beautiful” was what he wanted to say. What an odd word to describe how their intimacy felt, like it was a sensation he was being introduced to for the first time. Yet, to him, it was perfect.

Astarion glued his eyes shut, there was no bile wanting to spew from his stomach pit nor were there those loathful drudgeries digging holes into brain. Being inside her, connecting in this manner, was pure delight. 

“Feels different…haa…for me too,” she said on a jagged intake of air.

Astarion couldn’t comprehend what she meant by that. She wasn’t a virgin, having taken some men and women into her bed during her one hundred and forty-five year lifespan. Could have been the sex itself and finally having each other. But, when he chanced a peer into those white water blues, he thought he saw a glimmer of an unconditional emotion woven into her irises that filled him with a percolating doubt.

To rid himself of his ideations, he nested into the crook of her neck, bathing in the scent of soapy remnants on her flesh, and drove into her a few more times to evaluate her comfort. She reacted with more clamoring sobs, embracing his prick with her hot slit. Then—

“Yeowch!”

He immediately ceased. “What’s happened? Are you alright?”

“Stop for a minute. I think a stick is tryin’ to make its way into my butt,” Bonnie giggled. She reached behind her naked ass to pluck out the offending intruder. “Aha!”

Taking the stick from her, Astarion tossed it in a direction he wasn’t paying attention to. “Hopefully that will be the last interruption because,” he wreathed her legs around his waist, tenderly kissing her breast valley, “I don’t think I’m going to last long.”

She beamed at him, as innocently as she could pretend, running a finger along his ear’s helix. “You can cum inside me if you’d like.”

“Gods…” His dick flexed inside her, spurred on by her treacherous invitation. He was damned near ready to explode as it was, but hearing her utter such a shameless appeal made him want to fuck her as hard as she’d allow. 

His thrusts began anew, this time going quicker than previously. Astarion glided his hand between his thighs, giving her over sensitive clit a gentle swab. Bonnie’s walls quivered as he filled her, a stocking ungracefully sliding down her leg while her heels dug into his lower back. She wailed when he found her nipple once more, heartlessly punishing it with added suckles. 

“‘Starion?” Bonnie implored, legs shaking like a leaf. 

He led a crusade of kisses to her mouth, all the while pounding in smooth drawn-out propels as her hands scrambled for purchase in his hair. Sweat pooled in the tragus above her plump lips, tresses wild with tangles from rubbing against the earth. Her skin was a bright red, freckles standing out as teeny brown constellations inked across the sky that was her face.

Bonnie cupped his cheeks, shifting her eyes back and forth, and Astarion knew what she was going to say before she said it. “I-I love you, Astarion.”

He’d seen that exact phrase swirling around her pupils like a dust storm earlier, unable to properly prepare himself for it. But, did he love her? Could he unabashedly admit that he loved this woman named Bonnie Sparrows that treated him as an equal and someone worthy of love in every imaginable way possible? Had everything they went through led up to this finite moment where he realized that he felt love for another person again during these unending decades that he spent in misery and isolation?

Yes. Astarion was, without a doubt, madly in love with Bonnie.

He stared back at her, leaning to mouth his confession against her lips. “I lo—”

“Boy, you are a fool,” a piercing tone shot through his thoughts. “She doesn’t love you. She loves what pleasure your cock can bring to her.”

“No. No. NO! You’re dead! You’re fucking dead!”

“Insolent boy! When will you learn that no matter if I am dead or alive, I will ALWAYS be with you,” the Reverend’s voice stated. “How about you slice open that pretty neck of hers so I can see how much she bleeds! Ahahahaha.”

Despite Astarion’s liberation, he still had a distinct fright of what lurked beyond the shadows.  Incanted sordid commands and rotsome hands pushing him ‘neath dark waters that were likely a trick of the mind. Cazador was as dead as a doornail and whatever hubbub his psyche was muddling his head with, Bonnie wasn’t for his master, she was for him! 

Red. Red. Red. Everywhere red. Bonnie’s throat slit. Bonnie a corpse at Cazador’s feet. Himself fucking every dick and cunt between here and there. All for the master. Kennel chains rattling. Starvation. Weakness. Torture. He wasn’t free. HE’D NEVER BE FREE!

Astarion wished to tell her what was going on, bade her to run, but the words wouldn’t come. They were lost to him, as lost as his autonomy remained. 

That numbing dysphoria he’d grown accustomed, dispersed into his pores, shielding him from his stressful visions. He autopiloted, elevating his lover’s lower half so he could fuck into her at a speed that would make him cum and end it all. 

Bonnie gurgled out more “I love yous” as he rammed into her, tits barbarically bouncing. Damned woman was a half-wit! It wasn’t true. She could never love a damaged man like him. He was beyond repair.

She screamed his name and he screamed inwardly. Then, he came, groaning and stuttering his hips as his release emptied inside of her.

They laid in silence. Astarion stared unblinking at Bonnie while she herded away each wiley clump of curl that clung to his forehead. She didn’t look disappointed he didn’t tell her he loved her in return—maybe giving him a berth to chew on it—instead humming to herself in a state of joyful tranquility oft seen after sharing intimacies and all. 

“That was nice,” she whispered, blushing up a storm. “Did you feel okay during all that?”

He finally blinked, masking his sorrow with enthusiasm. “It felt wonderful! You are wonderful, darlin’.”

Astarion guided out his limping cock, putting it behind his trouser’s fly. Unable to do anything more than a clinical cleaning, he used his shirt to clean her whole body down from head to foot, dusting sweat and wiping away mixed bodily fluids. He was downright ashamed of himself, barely able to look at her.

Bonnie clasped her corset, adjusting its cover with concentrated effort in lieu of the yawns now seeping out. She threw her arms round his middle and squished him tight. “Love, I think I am all tuckered out! Mind if we rest here for a bit before that sun starts rising?”

He kissed the crown of her head, cradling it into his chest. “I’ll stand guard in case any hooligans wander by. Trance for a while. I’ll wake you when it’s time to head out.”

After those subsequent yawns, it didn’t take much until she was snoozing peacefully in his lap. He let the clock tick away hour by hour for as long as he could, imprinting her scent and slumbering noises into his memory, until he reckoned he should get a move on. 

He wasn’t certain if he was making the right choice, but he knew it was the compromise that may save them both. Didn’t matter how far he was willing to go to prevent it, Bonnie still became a victim—an unknowing victim to his trauma at that. And through that sickness that struck him, Astarion was all too aware that he could probably never provide her with the life she deserved.

He shepherded her head to lay on his crumpled up shirt and gave her a tearful kiss on her hand, a hushed ode to love murmured into her skin. “Ai armiel telere maenan hir. You hold my heart forever, my love.”

When he glanced back a final time at that orange chrysanthemum in the shape of a woman he cared for, laying exposed as a vulnerable lamb in the chill air, he knew their delicate feelings that brought life to his grave for one night had been love. 

The phantom of Cazador Szarr may consume that same love he felt for her, but his leaving meant his master couldn’t consume hers too. And the only kind of love he ever deserved, would always be at the end of a whip.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Tav ~ Astarion/f!OC (Ofelia) Word Count: 9,709 Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Does this Count as Monster Smut?, Oral, PIV Sex, Fingering, Masturbation, Stomach Bulge, Blood Drinking, Very Minor Dubcon (if you squint), Choking Summary: A gifted grimoire from her friends spells trouble when Ofelia accidentally summons an incubus. ~ An Incubus Astarion AU lovingly written and inspired by this artwork by @poofroom featuring my Tav and longfic main character, Ofelia!

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AO3 | Song Reference: Christian Woman by Type O Negative

I'm hoping to complete at least 4 prompts this month, once a week, but my main fic is my upmost priority! Still, I'm really excited to share this one!! @khywren really inspired me with their recent AMAZING writings, please check out their Kinktober 2024 works so far! You won't be disappointed! 🖤

No forgiveness,

For her sins.

Prefers punishment.

Would you suffer eternally?

Or internally?

For her lust,

She’ll burn in hell.

Her soul done medium well.

***

“There, all done!” Ofelia says to herself, dropping the white chalk she’d used to draw the symbol from the spellbook. It’d been a silly present from one of her friends- a gag gift, really. Spirit of the season and all that. What else is she supposed to do on a Friday night after three pina coladas and zero luck?

All her prospects were dull, and all of them had made some kind of backhanded remark about her intelligence or appearance at some point during the conversation that her interest had waned instantly. She’d definitely been to better Halloween parties.

For her own amusement, she sits and holds a candle up, briefly reading over the pages. She’s got the first ingredient, flickering restlessly in her other hand, the food offering to her right (a popcorn ball), something to channel the energy (a crystal that came with the book), and currency of some kind (a few quarters from her laundry fund). The last requirement is her blood.

“Whatever,” She shrugs, setting the candle down on its point in the star before leaning over to grab the pocket knife she’d used to open the package. She’s still tipsy, and explaining away a bandaged hand tomorrow doesn’t seem like that big of an issue to her at the moment.

She carefully presses the blade's tip into the meat of her palm and drags in one clean slice, wincing and holding her hand over the point closest to her. Droplets dot the white chalk with red and she clenches her fingers, waiting until there’s a small puddle, before getting up to grab her first aid kit and wrap the wound. Once reseated, she examines the page, noting something looks off, but neglecting to read further into why the diagrams are different before reciting the words at the bottom of the page.

She holds her breath, eyes scanning the apartment, before settling back on the circle. And… nothing happens.

“Oh!” She gasps when the candle blows out, expecting some kind of grand entrance- maybe a ring of fire! Or a black pit, opening within the symbol! But nothing comes.

She pouts dejectedly and gathers the items up before chucking them all into a box. She glares at the book, clasped between her fingers, and sighs. If anything, she’d hoped for a little excitement from this tonight- but magic isn’t real, and despite her alcohol-addled mind, she was a fool to think she could conjure it.

She gets up and opens her top dresser drawer, tossing the book in without a second thought as she checks the time on her phone- almost one. She walks into the living space, which is technically still part of her bedroom and separated only by a meager curtain. Her TV is off and silent against the wall, and she pulls her hoodie off to toss over the back of her couch.

The cool air flows in from her window AC and blesses the exposed skin around her costume- she’d gone as a devil, the strapless red bodysuit and pink tights still clinging to her. She pulls the headache-inducing horned headband off and sets it next to her sweater, turning and scanning the room for her prize. She smiles when she sees it, fetching the half-empty bottle of Malibu from the counter before downing it until her fingers numb and a delightful buzz thrums in her head. The night had been long, and an untold amount of sticky fluids had gotten on her legs, arms, and torso during the party so a shower before turning in feels like the perfect idea.

She goes into the bedroom to tug the bodice of the costume down until her breasts are free, breathing a sigh of relief when the constricting fabric is finally off. Her tights follow after, leaving her in nothing but her underwear as she moves towards her dresser. Her eyes linger on the book when she opens the drawer to pull out a night dress and she almost closes it before cocking a brow. Her hand hovers over her favorite slip as her eyes fall onto the page she’d been referencing when she drew the circle, but she swears it had been closed when she’d thrown it inside. The scrawl below it almost looks handwritten, not printed, but when Ofelia tries to read it, goosebumps gradually spread over her arms and legs and she scoffs at the words she can decipher.

“What the hell does ‘mind-altering satisfaction’ mean?” She mutters as she closes the book and grabs her dress before shoving the drawer closed again.

She starts the shower before discarding the remaining scrap of cloth into her hamper, leaning against her sink to wipe her makeup off. Tossing the cotton pads into the trash, she jumps under the hot stream, a low hum leaving her lips. It feels amazing as it rushes over her skin and douses her hair. She runs her hands up over her body, jumping when she caresses the sides of her breasts. They’re extra sensitive, and in her tingling, buzzing mind she feels her stomach tighten in response.

She shrugs. No one had been worthy to take home anyway. Might as well make the most of the night.

Her fingers ghost over her nipples and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip in an effort to stifle the sound that nearly tears out of her throat. Stars dance behind her eyes and she laughs incredulously, wiping the hair plastered to her cheeks away. It’d never felt this intense, and curiosity coaxes her hands lower as she carefully slips a finger between her legs.

“God!” She hisses, catching herself before she falls onto the tiled floor. Her vision nearly whites under the slightest glance against her clit and she heaves for breath, both palms pressing against the wall. She’d only drank her usual cocktails, and had been watching her drink like a hawk all night, so being exposed to something slipped into her glass at the party is out of the question. She shakes her head, cursing as her clit begins to throb steadily against the water streaming down the front of her body. She suppresses another groan, clenching her thighs together as she rinses out the remaining suds from her hair.

The need humming through her veins is almost blinding, and with shaking hands she pushes her hair back before leaning against the wall. She won’t fall this time… won’t fall…

She cries out as she runs her middle finger along her slit, teeth sinking into the soft skin of her forearm. Her entire body shakes from the pleasure of it, so intense that it weakens her knees and she almost buckles to the floor again. She bites harder to center herself, afraid of the bruise that will surely stand out in the morning, but she’ll manage.

She dips between her folds, the slick beneath so copious she can feel it through the stream from the showerhead. She moans and cautiously presses a finger inside, slowly, but no matter how careful she could have been, it doesn’t stop the sharp coil in her gut and the shockwave of ecstasy that flashes from the roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes.

She mewls like an untouched virgin, mind hazy with want. This… this is unlike anything she’s ever felt- not like she’s had much experience in that department- but every nerve feels like it’s on fire. The shower turns to ice and she has to step out, body quivering and skin clammy despite the temperature of the water.

She grabs the towel, whining as the fabric rubs against the sensitive flesh on her breasts before slipping her nightgown over her head. The thin black satin and lace clings to her and she stares at the mess in the mirror as she dries her hair, eyes catching on the stiff peaks on her chest straining against the fabric. They trail up over her arms and her shoulders before stopping and freezing.

“What the hell…?” She whispers, dropping the towel to press up against the sink again, trying to ignore the little shivers of pleasure when her nipples rub against the chilled granite. Her fingers seek the strange marks that circle her neck almost like a tattoo, the dashes and squiggles familiar, almost…

There’s no way. There’s no way.

Ofelia doesn’t stop to pick her towel up off the floor, sweat making her damp hair stick to her face and neck as it breaks out over her entire body. She opens the drawer once more to the book open, not closed as she’d left it. She swears and pulls it out, setting it on top as she looks at the scrawl over the page opposite to the sigil. It’s indecipherable, in some kind of language or symbols she can’t read, but it matches the marks on her skin perfectly. Whatever they are, they’re definitely a result of the ritual, and Ofelia sinks into a sitting position on her mattress as regret fills her mind.

I shouldn’t have done that. God, I’m so stupid. Mama warned me never to mess with this stuff. Ofelia chews on her cuticles, nervous energy humming alongside the desire burning in her body. Every sense of hers is attuned to the way the slip touches her skin, how her clit throbs for attention, how she clenches around nothing, aching to fill the void.

It isn’t natural, and that fact scares her more than she’d like to admit. She pushes the craving to touch out of her mind, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear before crawling beneath her duvet. It’s hot, so hot… her skin feels like lava- her heart beat skyrocketing. Maybe she’s going to die?

“Oh god, I’m so stupid. So stupid!” She sobs, shoving her face into the pillow as she lays on her stomach. The pressure makes her roll her hips before she can stop herself and she whimpers, biting the silk pillowcase to redirect her frustration. Maybe she should give in and see if that’ll end this torment, but the unease of the situation needles at her mind... She rolls over and tugs the blanket around her chin, twisting her hips and drumming her fingers over her stomach. The length of the day settles over her shoulders and it weighs her down despite the sweat on her skin and the ache between her legs. She tries not to picture the relief she’d feel if her legs were spread instead, slip tugged over her chest, underwear discarded. She groans and shuts her eyes, somehow drifting off to sleep.

She dreams in scattered images, flashing across her vision like a picture show. Hot, begging, on her knees. A man with strong hands and sharp teeth touches her heated skin, peels her dress off, mouths at her breasts… her haggard breathing is audible in the room, echoing off the walls, her hips rolling into his touch, her mouth closing around-

Her eyes fly open, the curtains in front of her window fluttering in the breeze as the clock registers that it’s only one thirty. It takes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and she vaguely recalls not leaving it open… The covers fall off her chest when she sits up, soft moonlight pouring in to paint her body a cool blue. The slip rides up her hips, breasts spilling out the sides, and something moves out of the corner of her vision that sparks gooseflesh to spread over her bare thighs and arms.

The curtain flutters away, revealing the silhouette of a man. Except it isn’t a man… As the light illuminates the hard cut of his torso, bat-like wings stretch and unfurl on either side of him, wicked horns curling up and over his silver hair. Red irises glow in the night, trained on her face, a tail swishing behind him. She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move- her heart pounds, but her body reacts in a way she hadn’t expected. Her skin breaks out in the same feverish sweat that she’d felt before crawling into bed, her stomach aching and her breathing coming in short pants. She chances a glance in the full length mirror across the room, her cheeks flushing red at the uselessness of her night dress. The marks that had started at her neck circle her wrists and close around her thighs like bands.

“Am I dreaming?” She asks softly, unable to resist the pull she feels towards him. He takes a step and she tenses, eyes admiring his broad shoulders, ornamental silver bracers covering each forearm. Most of his body is bare, save for the thin piece of satiny fabric and gilded chains covering his hips. Her eyes trace the trail of hair that disappears beneath, down until her breath chokes out of her. Her thighs press together at the hard outline beneath the loincloth, her imagination filling in the gaps- thick, straining, throbbing. Her mouth floods with saliva and she swallows thickly as the steady pulse from earlier begs for attention, shame dissolving as his crimson gaze flows down over her exposed breasts. The sudden urge to touch him fills her mind until it’s all she can think about, even as he opens his mouth to expose sharp canines.

“I’m afraid not.” His voice, smooth and velvety, covers her body like honey. She shivers as he takes another step, so close now that she can see the sharp tips of his ears beneath his hair. His lips curl into a fiendish grin and she shakes her head, wanting him closer, god, she can’t take the distance anymore. Some fire’s possessing her and she feels herself clench again, the sudden instinct to grind against the mattress and relieve the tension leaving her dazed. Her mind roars, wanting more than anything she’s ever wanted before to have him touch her. It drowns rational thoughts, save for a single line of curiosity.

“What are you?” She can’t help but ask, though her eyes can’t be deceiving her. He appraises her with a considering gleam, his wings folding back and out of the way. The horns have to be enough- the devilish tail. His soft laugh covers her body in a fresh wave of heat and she closes her eyes.

“You summoned me, shouldn’t you know?” She opens her eyes and he’s hovering right across from her at the end of the bed. Eye level with his stomach, she bites back the whimper of need that tries to push past her clenched teeth at the sight of him, his little strip of fabric doing nothing but veiling the color of his skin. She feels a gush of wetness between her legs as she clenches and strains to stay still, huffing her breath out.

“Didn’t think it would work. Are you the one that’s doing this to me?” She mutters, too late to cover her breasts but she does it anyway- anything to remain in the illusion of control. The sharp tick of his smile tells her he isn’t buying it, and she widens her eyes in surprise when his wings disappear. He drops his knees onto the mattress and she yelps when it dips.

Fuck… he’s real.

“What did you think would happen when you opened a black grimoire and chose a spell? That an imp would pop up and throw money at you?” She bites her lip, watching his long black fingernails clench the duvet and pull it farther down the bed.

“Well…” His eyes flash with annoyance.

“All you humans are the same- power, money, fame, wealth. Make a mistake? Wrong page?” She bristles at his sudden chiding, cursing her friends for giving her the damn thing. She’s going to throttle them tomorrow.

“So what? Can’t you just go back to where you came from?” She sucks in a breath when he draws closer, hands planting themselves on either side of her ankles. She watches him carefully, the way the light shines through the thin fabric of his loincloth to show her the heavy shadow of his cock beneath, and she bites the inside of her cheek when her clit throbs at the sight.

“I’m contracted, stupid mortal. Your blood has bound me to this plane. I can't just go back.” He sneers and she squirms as he crawls forward again, his head hovering over her hips. Her mind imagines filthy things with him so close, her body betraying her as her thighs untense and spread softly- barely a few inches- but it’s enough. She watches his gaze drop to the arms covering her chest, then lower, and she snaps her legs back together.

“Um… sorry. What contract? What does it entail?” He looks back up at her, lips pressed into a firm line of disappointment and she glares back.

“You didn’t read the fine print?”

“What fine fucking print? I can’t read half the words on those pages!” She cries out indignantly, not realizing her frustrated gesturing has left her chest exposed again. He surges forward quicker than she can react and with the sharp edges of his nails, he rips the straps off her dress, causing her breasts to fall free properly. She yelps, instinctively trying to cover up again but he snaps his fingers and the script on her wrists glows, making her palms flatten against the bed.

“I’ll let you guess the terms,” He murmurs, sitting back on his heels. She squirms, trying to free her arms, and when he snaps his fingers again she can lift them.

“What- what was that?” She whispers, fear clouding her voice. He smirks, his hands resting on his thighs, and gestures towards the dresser.

“Says it in the fine print.”

“Please?” She whimpers, hugging her torso tightly. She’s afraid- afraid of the patterns on her thighs, on her wrists, on her neck. She stares at them warily, the terror that had been muted by her lust now stretching into every part of her body. What’s going on? What is he? What’s going to happen to me?

“Tssk,” He settles back fully, legs crossing on her mattress. Her eyes move over his face again, catching on his pretty red eyes, his full lips. The slope of his nose is beautiful- strong and sharp. She traces his features, finding her heartbeat slowing slightly the longer she takes him in. His lips part, revealing those sharp fangs on both the top and bottom row of his teeth, and she idly wonders what they’d feel like on her neck, on her skin… “Darling… I can’t have you afraid of me. That’s not how this night is going to go.” His soft voice makes her shiver and she’s lulled by the sound of it. She raises her head slightly, gaze growing heavier the longer he stares at her.

“How this night is going to go…?” She echoes, slow, the end shaped like a question. His tail swishes back and forth before the spade tip caresses up her calf. With him finally touching her, she gasps, the softest glance magnified like it was earlier. She shudders, pressing her thighs more tightly together, shaking her head, but her body eventually wins out.

“The terms, dear…” He murmurs, leaning forward again. Her skin is feverish when his tail draws away and he crawls over her again. She shrinks back, lying against her pillows, his thighs caging her in as his hands settle on either side of her head.

“Uh…” She stammers, trying to get a coherent thought through. He’s so close she can see small flecks of gold in his eyes and the soft ridges on his horns. She finds herself wanting to caress them, the thought causing her cheeks to burn. “Terms… right. The spell is making me… making my body act like this?” She whispers cautiously and he nods, encouraging her to continue. “It made these… weird tattoos show up on my skin… and you can control them?” He nods again, eyes twinkling in amusement. Her nostrils flare in irritation, but she keeps going, realization finally dawning as she approaches the conclusion.

“I… this lust… oh my god…” He tuts, smirking with satisfaction.

“You finally understand?” The growl in his voice makes her eyes flutter shut. With the answer flaring brightly behind her lids, her body opens up in a way it hadn’t before. Her thighs spread until they’re pushing against his knees, her breath leaving her in a rush. She clenches around nothing, thinking about the shape of him under the loincloth and when her eyes snap open again he laughs, deep and sugared.

“You want my body?” She asks breathlessly, the slip hanging over her stomach becoming itchy and unbearable. His lashes fall halfway and when his forked tongue darts across his lower lip she whimpers in response.

“Usually you call an incubus because you need relief, but… your scent is maddening and I've barely even touched you…” He purrs, lips dropping down to her jaw. She moans at the slightest touch, her cunt clenching again followed by a rush of wetness dripping down her folds. Her underwear are long since ruined, and she slowly moves her hands up, hesitating over him.

“Can I… touch you?” She gasps, the last threads of restraint slowly snapping. He pulls away, hungry eyes raking over her face and neck and down to her breasts. She tugs her lower lip into her mouth, watching him nod, before caressing the planes of his chest.

His skin is so hot… a lovely shade of light rose. Her fingers ghost over his collarbones before pressing up, up, to the sides of his face. His crimson gaze flicks back up to meet hers and she teeters over the edge, debating, before he makes the decision for her and leans down to capture her lips.

Wet and messy, their tongues tangle and she whimpers into his mouth, hands carding through his hair. He tastes divine… or wicked, she isn’t sure which. His kiss is hot, lips soft and she moans against his tongue when his teeth catch on her lip to lightly nip at it. It’s all her favorite flavors at once and she can’t keep her hips on the bed, wanting to pull him in closer, wanting to feel the hard edge of his cock-

“Nnng!” She gasps when he nudges his shaft against her stomach, the weight of it making her dizzy. Her clit pulses and blood pounds through her, vocalizing the wave of desire in breathy pants against his mouth. He doesn’t stay quiet either- the sounds and groans he makes turning her insides to liquid as she rocks against him, hands clawing at his back. His anchor on her dress and a loud tear sounds through the room as he rips it free.

“Hey! That was my favorite!” She protests, but he’s sinking his knees between her thighs and tossing the scraps away, revealing her naked torso to him. The anger dies as she watches him draw back, and can almost feel the burning of his gaze over her body. She squirms again, clamping her legs around his, wanting to hide from the attention but it’s all in vain. All for show. She couldn’t deny him now even if she wanted to.

“Darling, don’t lie. You’re just as impatient as I am,” His voice is deep, sitting in the back of his throat. She inhales sharply, watching him lower himself to press his nose into the hollow of her neck. His cock settles over her heat, separated by two layers of fabric, and before she can grind into it his hands are on her hips, forcing them still.

“God…” She whispers, the steady throb against her aching bud making her jaw go slack. He laps at the skin of her neck, making her legs twitch, before his sharp upper canines sink in. If she’d been delirious before… she’s absolutely lost now.

She cries out, heart pounding as he slowly drags his heavy length over her soaked underwear. His loincloth is covering the image from sight as she angels her jaw down, delighting in every bite he peppers over her neck and shoulder. She drags her fingers over his horns and he groans, hips stuttering, the sound needy and desperate. She continues caressing as his tail flicks in the air, pleased and tenderly mouthing at the aching wounds he’s left on her. They sting, but there’s something new in the mix- churning around her gut and making her mouth spill constant sighs and pants as her vision goes hazy and pink.

“W-what do I call you?” She asks, taking in his messy curls and kiss-swollen mouth. Blood stains his lips and a curl of want pulses south at the sight, wanting him to push her panties to the side and rub directly against her, the pressure so distracting she almost rolls her hips automatically, chasing the feeling of him.

He cocks a brow, inhaling deeply before a delicate smile crosses his face. His tail winds around her leg and she laughs in spite of herself, enjoying the way the tip rubs soft circles into the inside of her thigh.

“Astarion,” He murmurs, and she lowers her hands from his horns, eyes darting to his groin.

“Astarion…” She rolls his name around on her tongue, the subtle shiver that shifts through him not going unnoticed. “Mine’s Ofelia,” She mumbles and he strokes her cheek.

“Ofelia,” She preens at how he says it, a flush spreading over her cheeks in response. Her fingers push into the cloth at his hips, a silent question hanging in the air as she gently tugs on it. He nods and she fiddles with the clasp at the side of his hip before it falls and flutters away, leaving him exposed.

She isn’t sure if it’s the side effects of the spell or simply her own desire, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of him.

“Oh.” Is all she says, like an idiot. Her eyes admire the girth- thick veins spreading over the shaft. He’s nearly purple at the tip, leaking onto her underwear, and she shifts restlessly at the sight as her mouth floods with saliva and her clit aches as he nudges against it.

“I see I’m going to have to do all the sweet-talking, pet.” She shudders as his hands brush along her trembling stomach muscles, down to her thighs, before guiding her underwear down and off. They run back up the length of her torso, softly squeezing and kneading at the soft flesh of her breasts as his lips catch on one of her nipples. She whimpers at the sensations building inside, chasing his touches with her fingers, craving more contact with an almost crazed fervor. She’s still hypnotized by the length of him as he gently rubs his cock between her puffy folds and she swallows, strangled moans caught in her throat. The hard ridge along his tip drags over her swollen clit and in addition to the lightning bolt of pleasure that coaxes more juices to spill from her, the urge to taste him is so intense that it feels like it’s written on her bones.

“I… I want you here.” She mumbles, fingers tracing her face, and he laughs.

“You want to see… if you can take me… in your pretty mouth…?” He whispers, thumb brushing over her lower lip. She nods desperately, parting them to suck him in as her body trembles in anticipation. His jaw tightens as he watches, her tongue swirling around his warm skin, fierce with desire. She hums when his cock twitches, softly bumping her stomach when he moves as a quiet sound vibrates in his chest. He watches her a moment more, eyes burning, before he shifts to the side and drags her off the bed, onto the floor.

She sits obediently on her knees, closing her eyes as his fingers thread into her hair. His touch is soft, and her face warms as she realizes what he’s doing, but embarrassment has long since receded into the recesses of her mind. He gathers the strands at the back of her head before tugging gently- just the way she likes. She sighs, opening her eyes to shamelessly stare at him, yearning to lick the pearl of glistening pre-cum off his flushed tip. She flicks her eyes up to his and the desire she sees there lights a fire in her belly that spurs her forward, hands resting over his hips as she sets her sights and dives in.

Astarion hisses when she kisses the base of him, bathing him in her attention and affectionate nips. Her thighs shiver as she continues her trail of teasing, his grip on her scalp growing tighter. She flashes him a soft smile before kissing down the weighty length of him, lips parting when she pulls away to watch him leak a silvery strand down to her breasts. She swallows a breathy whine before eagerly lapping it up, her ears ringing from the sharp inhale and throaty groan he gives her when she finally sucks the tip inside.

He fills her entire mouth before she can draw him in further and her cunt clenches with jealousy imagining him pushing inside, on her back, a bruising grip on her hips… Her fantasies play behind her closed lids as she hollows her cheeks and relaxes her jaw to swallow more, moaning lightly as he nudges the back of her throat.

Tears form in her eyes as she blinks up at him, her hips restless as he tugs on her hair and pulls out of her mouth before slowly thrusting inside. The fingers of her free hand trail down her body, pinching at the pebbled flesh on her breasts before dipping lower to alleviate some of the tension winding around her belly. She spreads the slick gathering at her entrance, circling her aching clit, and her eyes squint shut, sobbing at the spark of pleasure that flashes up her body, his cock twitching in her mouth.

“Hells…” He whispers, her mind slowly melting the longer he fucks her mouth. Her entire body aches for him, for this pleasure- she squirms and whimpers, letting him set the pace as she rocks against her hand. He’s considerate of her adjustment period until a glimmering sweat breaks out on his chest and her eyes track a drop as it follows the curve of his pelvic bone. When it meets his shaft a switch flips and she abandons all rational thought for the need to please.

She struggles to take him fully, but every time he needly ruts into her and her lips meet his hips he grunts- a gravelly, greedy thing that stokes the heat in her belly until she’s whimpering and shivering for more. He’s making a mess out of her, and she increases the pace, removing her hand from its previous position to pull his hips in each time they snap forward hungrily. He smears spit and slick over her chin each time he slips out until it's dripping over her breasts and fingers, her thumbs swirl the fluid over the stiff peaks of her nipples as waves of pleasure rumble through her- just as strong as it had been in the shower, perhaps even more.

They lock eyes as he angles her chin to take more of him, electricity shooting through her as her tongue swirls around before lingering on the sensitive underside of his head. He yanks her hair and hisses, in one fluid motion pistoning inside and she moans on his cock. Her mind is blissfully blank as he pins her against the side of the bed, reveling in the way he twitches and cups her cheek as he drives in and out, in and out at a languid pace. The blunt head of his cock kisses the back of her throat again, his stomach muscles tightening, and her fingers brush over the seam of his balls until his hips stutter and a raspy moan pours from his mouth. She holds his gaze, taking him impossibly deeper, and she whines in disapproval when he slips out with a lewd pop.

“Can’t have you driving the whole time, darling,” He murmurs, and she gasps when he leans down to meld their lips together in a bruising kiss. The enthusiasm behind his touches makes her hum happily and he places a hand over her throat before squeezing and forcing her to stand. His tight grip makes her dizzy and she sways on her feet, mind blank, as he chuckles and presses them tightly together.

“Like that, do you?” He murmurs in her ear and she nods, wrapping her arms around his waist as his sharp canines brush against her skin.

“Do you… drink the blood?” She whispers, brief flashes of curiosity drifting through her lust-clouded mind.

“Hmm?” She draws back so their lips brush, the striking scarlet of his eyes inquisitive and rapt.

“You had blood on your lips earlier, when you bit me…” She whispers, watching his face shift in recognition.

“Ahh… that.” He grins, a fang peeking out from under his top lip and it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. “It’s common for us to partake- the magic in your blood increases your sense of touch and your blood in turn does for us as well. It’s why you needed to sacrifice it for the spell.” His smile twists into something sinful, her legs pressing together. “Somehow, I hardly need the encouragement...” He whispers as his hands softly squeeze her ass. She smiles in reply, eyes lingering on his teeth and she hesitantly presses a kiss to his jaw. More follow, light and sweet as his grip fluctuates from gentle to rough when her lips brush over his neck.

“Can I…?” She asks and he nods at her testing teeth before she sinks her own into his skin. He sighs into her ear, his hands caressing her back as his sharp nails lightly scratch over her skin. She whimpers into the marks she leaves him with, nipping up to his earlobe before teasing the skin between her teeth. He stills and groans, grinding his stiff length against her hip and she licks up to the pointed tip before sucking it lightly into her mouth.

“Ofelia…” Her name rumbling in his chest makes her dizzy and she moves her left hand up to tickle the other ear until he’s driving them forward. The back of her knees connect with the mattress and she yelps, falling flat on her back as he stands between her parted thighs. His eyes are dark- the red eclipsed by his blown wide pupils, and her body shivers in fear. She feels hunted, prey beneath a ravenous lion, and the feeling twists her insides as he drops to a crouch and lifts her legs until they’re resting over his shoulders. She almost moans at the sight…

“I can’t leave until you’re satisfied…” He murmurs, nipping at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. His fangs graze the skin before he sinks them in and that rosy haze covers her vision again, her mind numb to the rest of the world as she focuses on what his mouth is doing. He’d been right about whatever’s in his saliva or bite as electricity tingles beneath her skin, every one of his touches sending sparks down the length of her body.

“God… I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of this.” She mumbles, forehead creasing in an effort to concentrate on him. He chuckles darkly, his burning gaze intertwined with hers and as she watches her blood drip from the corner of his lips her body twitches in response. It’s the most erotic thing she’s ever seen, almost hotter than when she’d peeled off the cloth, and she whines under his smug smile.

“Don’t go saying that now…” He whispers as he presses soft kisses up, closer to where she needs him most. “Or I’ll be tempted to show you which page the binding spell is on.” She gasps, not having time to process his words as his tongue darts out to swipe up the seam of her before languidly running back down. Her vision whites, a high-pitched cry tearing from her throat as he circles her clit. The fork in his tongue adds an extra sensation that makes fireworks explode behind her eyes, her hips lifting off the bed as he lightly flicks and dips it lower, embarrassing noises spilling from her lips as she drags her fingers through his hair.

When he circles her entrance, lapping at the slick that’s been dripping down her thighs, she throws her head back and begs, pleading on deaf ears for him to plunge in, his nose pressing into the aching swell of her and it’s just the right amount of pressure-

“Fuck!” She sobs, back arching off the bed as his long fingers push inside in place of his tongue. He licks softly at her clit, pushing the hood back gently and when he sucks she nearly blacks out. His fingers are thick, so warm… he starts with two, working her open, curling in until he nudges the place inside she’s lucky to reach on a good day. It makes her entire body convulse as she clamps her thighs around him, fingers twisting in the sheets as his name tumbles from her lips over and over again like a prayer.

“Another, sweet girl?” The lilt to his voice is so innocent, but the words are pure sin and a shiver runs from the base of her skull to the tip of her spine in response, her babbling incoherent. Instead, she nods, trying to keep her eyes open, focusing on the little vent on her ceiling, anything- god he’s too good…

When he adds another digit she almost comes undone, but he shushes her with a kiss on the inside of her thigh, halting his movements. She’s allowed a few seconds to breathe, gasping for air, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. His hair is falling from its perfect swoop atop his head, dusting his eyes. He’s so handsome she almost can’t believe this is real, so focused on how hot he looks eating her out that she doesn’t see his arm coiling before he sets the pace again.

Her eyes fly shut and her head falls back, wanton cries filling the air- so loud she’s certain there will be a noise complaint in her mailbox in the morning.

His thumb strokes over her swollen nub as he pushes inside and she’s gone.

Her ankles lock around his head, pulling him deeper as she comes on his tongue and his name leaves her lips over and over, chest heaving as tears pool and spill out of the corners of her eyes. Her hips leave the mattress, her mind unaware how, hands anchored to his horns to keep him there all while his tongue massages her inner walls and draws her pleasure out with every stroke. It’s never been like this- completely blank, delirious, incoherent. It feels like someone’s holding her over a flame and she’s burning, burning, stroking her fingers over the ridges of his horns as he shivers and runs his tongue up over her sensitive clit, making her wail at the overstimulation. Her hips finally meet the mattress again as she dissolves over the messy blanket, realizing his nails had pressed stinging cuts to her buttocks as he’d dragged her over the edge.

“Satisfied?” He whispers, his face hovering over hers. She hadn’t noticed he’d shifted and her hands had fallen, her stare empty and tracking dust motes floating through the beams of moonlight. She focuses on his pretty lips, glistening from his previous ministrations, and she reaches up to pull him into a deep kiss as he stumbles and falls over her, his chuckle stroking some deeply seated, violent thing inside her. He tastes like her, the two of them mixed and she’s tingling from head to toe, so consumed by touching every part of him as her hands explore and roam. They find his neglected length and she softly strokes him with one as the other rests over the nape of his neck to continue sliding their lips together.

“Not yet…” She finally answers him after pulling away to gasp for air, voice ragged. She smiles sweetly, lashes dipped low, wanting him closer. Something about him just burrows inside, familiar and calming. She hadn’t noticed it before, too buried beneath the overpowering magic thrumming through her veins. She’s glad that he’s the one that showed up.

She nuzzles her nose into his hair, the faintest hint of brimstone and ash dusting his white locks. He stutters out a low, breathy moan as she continues to slowly stroke him and in her trance she pulls back to bare her throat for him. She quickens her pace as his teeth sink in once more, drawing filthy moans from her lips as heat coils in her belly. It’s addicting, the pain and pleasure of his sharp teeth. She offers up more of herself to him and her hips snap up into his when his mouth closes around one nipple to puncture the sensitive skin before greedily suckling on it.

“Nnng… ‘starion…” She mumbles, a strangled cry leaving her lips as she spreads the pre-cum weeping from his cock down his shaft, his mouth going rough as he groans in reply. “Need you…” She murmurs and he sucks harder before leaving bleeding crescents over her other breast.

“You taste so good…” He whispers, the soft snap of his fingers wrenching her hands from her control as they come up, above her head, wrists glowing as if he’s holding them himself. The loss of control is staggering, but as he rises, eyes glowing, blood coating his lips, she feels a fierce craving spread low in her body before she’s aching for him and his tongue and fingers won’t suffice this time. She wants the real thing.

“Please…” She whines, straining against her invisible bonds as he presses himself against her slit to coat himself in the wetness there. Slippery, obscene sounds fill the room and the way he slides and catches on her entrance before gliding over her throbbing clit coax her heart to pound harder, a shock sparking between her legs at his low lurching moan.

“Please-!” She repeats, thrashing as he continues, every touch and throb of his cock pure torture. His claws dig into her hips, her mouth spilling every curse and prayer she knows as he prods at her entrance.

“My turn,” He growls, stilling her rocking hips. Her eyes slam closed as she shudders around him, the pain a dull echo as he gradually sinks into her waiting heat. He almost doesn’t fit, eyes latched onto the place he’s desperately trying to defile, and she watches him tremble under the effort of restraint when he finally slips inside. He draws a muffled wail from her as he pushes past her entrance, an iron grip holding her in place as she twists her arms above her, panting and clenching around him as she adjusts to the stretch. She finally relaxes as his hands caress her shivering thighs, letting him gently soothe her tense muscles so he can fully sheath within her.

The feeling of fullness is like nothing else- he occupies every inch as his hips finally meet hers and her breath rushes out of her as if he’s taking up every spare bit of room inside her body. He waits, lower lip anchored beneath twin fangs, and she holds him in her blurring gaze. She can’t breathe, chest tight, the soft sounds building in her chest climbing into a litany of pleading and praise.

“So… much… please move,” She gasps as he reaches up to grab her hands and the bonds vanish, guiding them down to the mattress on either side of her head as their fingers intertwine. He’s close, so close she can see every detail on his face, can see the way his brow tenses and sweat gathers over the creasing flesh. Her thighs press against her chest as he folds her legs back, ankles dangling over his shoulders, and she screws her eyes shut as he dips impossibly deeper inside. The whine that slips out of her gritted teeth as he slowly drags out is nothing compared to the sharp, wailing cry when he pistons back into her. It dwarfs any sound she’s ever made; despite the circumstances, her cheeks burn in reply.

“Astarion!” She sobs, holding on to him for dear life. He sets a slow pace at first and she cries with each movement, repeating his name and twisting her head from side to side. He abandons his restraining grip on one of her hands to press one to her throat, stilling her writhing, lips pulled into a fangy grin.

“Eyes on me, pet.” He whispers. She gasps, clenching at the sound of his voice and the tight clutch over her neck. “I’m going to fill you… over… and over… and over…” Her eyes fly shut and she arches into him, mind fogging as he continues to thrust with rough, slow snaps of his hips. “Hells… barely been inside you for a minute… and you’re already brainless.”

“Fuck you,” She gasps when his hand disappears from her neck, a finger pad pressing to her clit to rub soft circles against it.

“That’s the idea,” He chuckles, dropping his lips to kiss her, scattering them over her jaw, neck, and chest. His hot tongue swirls over one nipple, then the other, the pressure building in her lower stomach faster than the first time. Whatever magic flows through her veins, it’s causing her vision to blur, her chest to feel light and her heart to crash against her ribs. Every drag of his cock steals her breath, every whispered word makes her impossibly wetter- afraid to look at the mess in the morning. He squeezes her breasts and her eyes flutter closed, the sensation of stroking on her bundle of nerves making her jump-

“Is that…?” She doesn’t finish, watching his tail flick in the air with a smirk before he descends on her again. “I… I don’t know how much longer-”

“Let go,” He interrupts, tongue flicking over the peaks of her breasts before he locks their gazes once more. She whines, lost in the tide of his thrusts and the way he feels inside her. He so big… so full… she can’t help the way she squeezes and pulls him in each time he pounds back inside, drawing guttural growls from his throat as obscenely wet sounds fill the room. “You’re so good, Ofelia…” He murmurs, fingernails digging into the plump flesh of her thighs as his voice pulls the coil tighter. “Creaming all over my cock.” She bites her lip, his tail rubbing and stroking and pushing her closer and closer and-

“Astarion!” She sobs, every thread unraveling and burning out. There’s an entire night sky sprawled out before her closed eyelids as he fucks her through her climax, every sound he makes sending shockwaves through her after the initial crest and fall. When she finally looks at him, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are nearly black, his cock twitching inside her.

“So… tight…” He mumbles, hands resting over her hips as his thrusts become more erratic. He’s pulsing, growing hotter, filling her more until she feels like she’s going to shatter around him, dragging against the spot inside her that leaves her breathless and panting for more and she’s afraid it’ll never be enough. He rests a hand over the bulge in her stomach, over the shape of him, and the pressure makes her gush around his twitching cock.

“Please…” She whimpers, vision hazy around the edges. She isn’t sure what she’s begging for, but he seems to understand. He presses a kiss to her lips as her pounding heart fills the silent air, hands coming up to scratch at his back and cry his name, his cock pulsing and-

Hot and powerful, he spills inside her with a strangled cry. She's almost afraid he'll never stop, filling her until she’s sure she can't hold anymore. Watching his face twist in pleasure as his hips still, gripping her waist to the point she’ll see marks in the morning, she whimpers and pulls him in for another bruising kiss. He plunges into her mouth like a starving man and she greedily matches his fervor, stroking his sides, pressing her palms against his chest, and running her fingers through his hair.

Her belly feels warm, full of his come, and his gaze darkens as he strokes the swell of flesh below her navel before flicking back up to her face. Trailing wisps of coherent thought dissolve into the recesses of her brain as his softening length begins to stiffen again, a soft growl slipping out of his mouth as his body jerks forward and he slides easily back inside. She chokes on a sound, the feeling lighting her up all over again as she struggles to accommodate him at full strength. She turns to look at the clock, registering the digital numbers turning to three am- they’d been at it for almost two hours.

“When you say you won’t leave until I’m satisfied… is that something you’ll just know? Or do I have to tell you?” He looks at her as he gently rolls his hips and her breath hitches as his tip brushes against her cervix.

“The tattoo on your neck will break,” He explains through his teeth, hands running over her body to gently squeeze her breasts and she moans softly as he rolls into her again.

“Is it still there?” She mumbles, wishing she could see into the mirror, but it’s behind him. He nods, dropping to his elbows to mouth at it, presumably. She floods his ears with delicate sighs, fingers splaying over his ribs as she traces his sides, eyes fluttering shut at the beautiful way his mouth moves-

“Ahh!” She yelps when he yanks her up off the mattress and pulls her into his arms, carried in the air. Her legs wind around him on instinct, clinging to his shoulders to not fall as he carries her into the living room. As she glances around the space, for some strange reason she feels off- almost as if a spell has been broken. Here he is, in another room of her apartment, and the strangeness she feels is entirely ridiculous. But he’s real, he’s real and standing in front of her tiny kitchen bar, eyes boring into her own, mischievous smile painted over his face. She traces his lips with her forefinger, smirk reflecting his, and he’s draping her over the counter to have her again.

She loses count of how many times he does- in the kitchen, over the couch, against the door. He shows no signs of tiring, cock hard and always pumping her full. She can’t remember a moment where she isn’t tumbling over the edge, thoughts useless, head empty as his red eyes sparkle in the dark, intent on burrowing into her chest.

There’s a brief period where she’s under the stream from the shower, unsure how she got there and still cradled in his arms. Her mind is weak like trailing threads, too distracted by the almost numbing tingles spreading through her body as she smiles at him. He’s still fully sheathed inside her- she’s almost certain he hasn't pulled out since they left the bedroom- and his impossibly strong arms rest below the swell of her ass as he presses her against the shower wall and kisses her, water mixing on their tongues.

“Is the mark still there?” She whispers, vaguely curious as the hot water flushes her body a light pink. He pulls away, eyes hazy and clouded over with pleasure, before lifting her hips and pulling her back down onto his cock.

“Still… there…” He huffs, brows drawn down in concentration. “I may not be able to keep up, soon.” She giggles, holding tight as he finishes their shower and brings her back to bed. Why he’d even bothered trying to clean them up, she isn’t sure.

On her hands and knees she takes him, and when her arms begin to tire she lies on her stomach, cheek against the mattress while his hands hold her hips up and he groans and fills her again. She shivers as his feverish hands stroke over her thighs, down her back, and to her scalp, caressing her hair softly. Her eyes flutter shut as he rocks them back and forth, the tenderness of his actions making her stutter out a long, breathless sigh.

Hazily she registers him lying her on her side, still joined, strong grip on the back of her knee as he lightly draws another orgasm out of her, fingers deftly working at her clit until she comes with a broken sob and milks him for what she considers the rest of what he’s got. As he pants into her ear the horizon turns a faint purple beyond her window and she collapses against his chest, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw.

While they catch their breath, she feels her skin chill and an almost imperceptible pressure vanish from around her neck. Her fingers come up to touch her throat, groaning at the exhaustion weighing her limbs down and the sudden ache spreading over every muscle. He strokes her stomach, peering down at her, and she can see that the band is gone through her reflection in his eyes, her arms and legs finally clear of it.

“Oh no, it’s over?” She mumbles listlessly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyelids as she starts to come back to herself. A light chuckle from beside her draws her out of the odd feelings of disappointment and longing as she gazes up at him, early morning sun passing through his hair to turn it bright and golden. He looks more like an angel than any devil she’s ever pictured.

“You’re satisfied,” He smiles, faint and soft. It makes her heart twist uncomfortably as he reaches down and finally slips out of her. A flush burns her cheeks at the slickness that drips down and pools between her legs over the sheets.

“Hmm,” She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting to the ceiling and leveling a hateful glare over the vent that she’d previously latched on to when she needed to ground herself. “Doesn’t feel like it.” He covers her vision, looking pleased with himself, and she feels a pang of sadness knowing he’ll have to leave.

“My contract’s fulfilled, Ofelia.” She nods, patting his arm, and when he moves from behind her to stand in her bedroom, gloriously naked and back to her, she admires him like he’s a distant statue up high on a pedestal. Out of reach.

“Umm… do I say ‘It’s been fun!’ or ‘Thank you!’?” She asks, wincing as he turns to look at her over his shoulder. His amused smile makes her feel less awkward, and she jolts in surprise when he stoops down to press a kiss to her lips.

“It’s been fun, thank you,” He grins, all sharp teeth and cocky glint in his eyes. She stares, then smiles softly as he rises to his full height, and those elusive wings that had vanished before stretch out behind him to cover the length of her room. The next time she blinks, he’s gone, and she looks around the room in alarm before stilling.

It’s silent as death.

She lies back, staring back up at that vent, every part of her arching and sore, far too stiff to think about moving let alone changing her sheets. She closes her eyes, fierce loneliness prodding at her chest.

***

“Earth plane’s portal is ringing again,” The droning voice of Raphael calls out over the tops of the rows of desks, his tone growing more tired by the hour. No one answers, scrolls and papers flying about as the demons sitting behind their quills carry on cataloging and documenting contracts and summons.

“Did you not hear me?” Raphael sounds more on edge and Astarion flicks his tail in amusement, glancing across the desk at his chattiest coworker.

“Think Haarlep’s still booked?” Karlach grins, jotting something on her scroll before she flicks it behind her right shoulder and it hits a lowly imp in the head.

“Must be. Wonder if he’ll call me again,” Astarion sighs, idly flicking the quill pen in his hand around his fingers. He remembers his outing and smirks. He wouldn’t mind if it were her again. If only he could be so lucky.

“Astarion!”

“There it is- good luck, soldier,” Karlach whispers before grabbing her beverage to dart for the breakroom.

“Yes, sir?” Astarion sagely dips his head in a formal bow as he watches Raphael massage his temples.

“Please cover for Haarlep again,”

“Of course, sir.” Filling in for an incubus isn’t the job he’d thought he’d be doing while slaving away for an archdevil, but its excellent overtime and exceptional pay convince him to fill out the request sheet every once in a while. When he steps through the portal he’s met with familiar darkened windows and the scent of vanilla, votives burning on every shelf and surface.

“Hope you weren’t busy?” He turns to see her standing in the middle of her little summoning circle, far too overdressed for his tastes, and smile bright and shining in the dim room.

“Ofelia,” He smirks, catching the spellbook when she tosses it at him.

“It’s already bookmarked, at least…” She walks closer, brown eyes flashing playfully as her long dark hair falls over her shoulder. “That’s if I read the fine print correctly.” He glances at the page, hellish heart flaring with warmth at the infernal word for binding. He grins.

“Cheeky pup,”

Pairing: Astarion/f!Tav ~ Astarion/f!OC (Ofelia) Word Count: 9,709 Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Does this Count as Monster Smut?, Oral, PIV Sex, Fingering, Masturbation, Stomach Bulge, Blood Drinking, Very Minor Dubcon (if you squint), Choking Summary: A gifted grimoire from her friends spells trouble when Ofelia accidentally summons an incubus. ~ An Incubus Astarion AU lovingly written and inspired by this artwork by @poofroom featuring my Tav and longfic main character, Ofelia!

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AO3 | Song Reference: Christian Woman by Type O Negative

I'm hoping to complete at least 4 prompts this month, once a week, but my main fic is my upmost priority! Still, I'm really excited to share this one!! @khywren really inspired me with their recent AMAZING writings, please check out their Kinktober 2024 works so far! You won't be disappointed! 🖤

No forgiveness,

For her sins.

Prefers punishment.

Would you suffer eternally?

Or internally?

For her lust,

She’ll burn in hell.

Her soul done medium well.

***

“There, all done!” Ofelia says to herself, dropping the white chalk she’d used to draw the symbol from the spellbook. It’d been a silly present from one of her friends- a gag gift, really. Spirit of the season and all that. What else is she supposed to do on a Friday night after three pina coladas and zero luck?

All her prospects were dull, and all of them had made some kind of backhanded remark about her intelligence or appearance at some point during the conversation that her interest had waned instantly. She’d definitely been to better Halloween parties.

For her own amusement, she sits and holds a candle up, briefly reading over the pages. She’s got the first ingredient, flickering restlessly in her other hand, the food offering to her right (a popcorn ball), something to channel the energy (a crystal that came with the book), and currency of some kind (a few quarters from her laundry fund). The last requirement is her blood.

“Whatever,” She shrugs, setting the candle down on its point in the star before leaning over to grab the pocket knife she’d used to open the package. She’s still tipsy, and explaining away a bandaged hand tomorrow doesn’t seem like that big of an issue to her at the moment.

She carefully presses the blade's tip into the meat of her palm and drags in one clean slice, wincing and holding her hand over the point closest to her. Droplets dot the white chalk with red and she clenches her fingers, waiting until there’s a small puddle, before getting up to grab her first aid kit and wrap the wound. Once reseated, she examines the page, noting something looks off, but neglecting to read further into why the diagrams are different before reciting the words at the bottom of the page.

She holds her breath, eyes scanning the apartment, before settling back on the circle. And… nothing happens.

“Oh!” She gasps when the candle blows out, expecting some kind of grand entrance- maybe a ring of fire! Or a black pit, opening within the symbol! But nothing comes.

She pouts dejectedly and gathers the items up before chucking them all into a box. She glares at the book, clasped between her fingers, and sighs. If anything, she’d hoped for a little excitement from this tonight- but magic isn’t real, and despite her alcohol-addled mind, she was a fool to think she could conjure it.

She gets up and opens her top dresser drawer, tossing the book in without a second thought as she checks the time on her phone- almost one. She walks into the living space, which is technically still part of her bedroom and separated only by a meager curtain. Her TV is off and silent against the wall, and she pulls her hoodie off to toss over the back of her couch.

The cool air flows in from her window AC and blesses the exposed skin around her costume- she’d gone as a devil, the strapless red bodysuit and pink tights still clinging to her. She pulls the headache-inducing horned headband off and sets it next to her sweater, turning and scanning the room for her prize. She smiles when she sees it, fetching the half-empty bottle of Malibu from the counter before downing it until her fingers numb and a delightful buzz thrums in her head. The night had been long, and an untold amount of sticky fluids had gotten on her legs, arms, and torso during the party so a shower before turning in feels like the perfect idea.

She goes into the bedroom to tug the bodice of the costume down until her breasts are free, breathing a sigh of relief when the constricting fabric is finally off. Her tights follow after, leaving her in nothing but her underwear as she moves towards her dresser. Her eyes linger on the book when she opens the drawer to pull out a night dress and she almost closes it before cocking a brow. Her hand hovers over her favorite slip as her eyes fall onto the page she’d been referencing when she drew the circle, but she swears it had been closed when she’d thrown it inside. The scrawl below it almost looks handwritten, not printed, but when Ofelia tries to read it, goosebumps gradually spread over her arms and legs and she scoffs at the words she can decipher.

“What the hell does ‘mind-altering satisfaction’ mean?” She mutters as she closes the book and grabs her dress before shoving the drawer closed again.

She starts the shower before discarding the remaining scrap of cloth into her hamper, leaning against her sink to wipe her makeup off. Tossing the cotton pads into the trash, she jumps under the hot stream, a low hum leaving her lips. It feels amazing as it rushes over her skin and douses her hair. She runs her hands up over her body, jumping when she caresses the sides of her breasts. They’re extra sensitive, and in her tingling, buzzing mind she feels her stomach tighten in response.

She shrugs. No one had been worthy to take home anyway. Might as well make the most of the night.

Her fingers ghost over her nipples and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip in an effort to stifle the sound that nearly tears out of her throat. Stars dance behind her eyes and she laughs incredulously, wiping the hair plastered to her cheeks away. It’d never felt this intense, and curiosity coaxes her hands lower as she carefully slips a finger between her legs.

“God!” She hisses, catching herself before she falls onto the tiled floor. Her vision nearly whites under the slightest glance against her clit and she heaves for breath, both palms pressing against the wall. She’d only drank her usual cocktails, and had been watching her drink like a hawk all night, so being exposed to something slipped into her glass at the party is out of the question. She shakes her head, cursing as her clit begins to throb steadily against the water streaming down the front of her body. She suppresses another groan, clenching her thighs together as she rinses out the remaining suds from her hair.

The need humming through her veins is almost blinding, and with shaking hands she pushes her hair back before leaning against the wall. She won’t fall this time… won’t fall…

She cries out as she runs her middle finger along her slit, teeth sinking into the soft skin of her forearm. Her entire body shakes from the pleasure of it, so intense that it weakens her knees and she almost buckles to the floor again. She bites harder to center herself, afraid of the bruise that will surely stand out in the morning, but she’ll manage.

She dips between her folds, the slick beneath so copious she can feel it through the stream from the showerhead. She moans and cautiously presses a finger inside, slowly, but no matter how careful she could have been, it doesn’t stop the sharp coil in her gut and the shockwave of ecstasy that flashes from the roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes.

She mewls like an untouched virgin, mind hazy with want. This… this is unlike anything she’s ever felt- not like she’s had much experience in that department- but every nerve feels like it’s on fire. The shower turns to ice and she has to step out, body quivering and skin clammy despite the temperature of the water.

She grabs the towel, whining as the fabric rubs against the sensitive flesh on her breasts before slipping her nightgown over her head. The thin black satin and lace clings to her and she stares at the mess in the mirror as she dries her hair, eyes catching on the stiff peaks on her chest straining against the fabric. They trail up over her arms and her shoulders before stopping and freezing.

“What the hell…?” She whispers, dropping the towel to press up against the sink again, trying to ignore the little shivers of pleasure when her nipples rub against the chilled granite. Her fingers seek the strange marks that circle her neck almost like a tattoo, the dashes and squiggles familiar, almost…

There’s no way. There’s no way.

Ofelia doesn’t stop to pick her towel up off the floor, sweat making her damp hair stick to her face and neck as it breaks out over her entire body. She opens the drawer once more to the book open, not closed as she’d left it. She swears and pulls it out, setting it on top as she looks at the scrawl over the page opposite to the sigil. It’s indecipherable, in some kind of language or symbols she can’t read, but it matches the marks on her skin perfectly. Whatever they are, they’re definitely a result of the ritual, and Ofelia sinks into a sitting position on her mattress as regret fills her mind.

I shouldn’t have done that. God, I’m so stupid. Mama warned me never to mess with this stuff. Ofelia chews on her cuticles, nervous energy humming alongside the desire burning in her body. Every sense of hers is attuned to the way the slip touches her skin, how her clit throbs for attention, how she clenches around nothing, aching to fill the void.

It isn’t natural, and that fact scares her more than she’d like to admit. She pushes the craving to touch out of her mind, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear before crawling beneath her duvet. It’s hot, so hot… her skin feels like lava- her heart beat skyrocketing. Maybe she’s going to die?

“Oh god, I’m so stupid. So stupid!” She sobs, shoving her face into the pillow as she lays on her stomach. The pressure makes her roll her hips before she can stop herself and she whimpers, biting the silk pillowcase to redirect her frustration. Maybe she should give in and see if that’ll end this torment, but the unease of the situation needles at her mind... She rolls over and tugs the blanket around her chin, twisting her hips and drumming her fingers over her stomach. The length of the day settles over her shoulders and it weighs her down despite the sweat on her skin and the ache between her legs. She tries not to picture the relief she’d feel if her legs were spread instead, slip tugged over her chest, underwear discarded. She groans and shuts her eyes, somehow drifting off to sleep.

She dreams in scattered images, flashing across her vision like a picture show. Hot, begging, on her knees. A man with strong hands and sharp teeth touches her heated skin, peels her dress off, mouths at her breasts… her haggard breathing is audible in the room, echoing off the walls, her hips rolling into his touch, her mouth closing around-

Her eyes fly open, the curtains in front of her window fluttering in the breeze as the clock registers that it’s only one thirty. It takes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and she vaguely recalls not leaving it open… The covers fall off her chest when she sits up, soft moonlight pouring in to paint her body a cool blue. The slip rides up her hips, breasts spilling out the sides, and something moves out of the corner of her vision that sparks gooseflesh to spread over her bare thighs and arms.

The curtain flutters away, revealing the silhouette of a man. Except it isn’t a man… As the light illuminates the hard cut of his torso, bat-like wings stretch and unfurl on either side of him, wicked horns curling up and over his silver hair. Red irises glow in the night, trained on her face, a tail swishing behind him. She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move- her heart pounds, but her body reacts in a way she hadn’t expected. Her skin breaks out in the same feverish sweat that she’d felt before crawling into bed, her stomach aching and her breathing coming in short pants. She chances a glance in the full length mirror across the room, her cheeks flushing red at the uselessness of her night dress. The marks that had started at her neck circle her wrists and close around her thighs like bands.

“Am I dreaming?” She asks softly, unable to resist the pull she feels towards him. He takes a step and she tenses, eyes admiring his broad shoulders, ornamental silver bracers covering each forearm. Most of his body is bare, save for the thin piece of satiny fabric and gilded chains covering his hips. Her eyes trace the trail of hair that disappears beneath, down until her breath chokes out of her. Her thighs press together at the hard outline beneath the loincloth, her imagination filling in the gaps- thick, straining, throbbing. Her mouth floods with saliva and she swallows thickly as the steady pulse from earlier begs for attention, shame dissolving as his crimson gaze flows down over her exposed breasts. The sudden urge to touch him fills her mind until it’s all she can think about, even as he opens his mouth to expose sharp canines.

“I’m afraid not.” His voice, smooth and velvety, covers her body like honey. She shivers as he takes another step, so close now that she can see the sharp tips of his ears beneath his hair. His lips curl into a fiendish grin and she shakes her head, wanting him closer, god, she can’t take the distance anymore. Some fire’s possessing her and she feels herself clench again, the sudden instinct to grind against the mattress and relieve the tension leaving her dazed. Her mind roars, wanting more than anything she’s ever wanted before to have him touch her. It drowns rational thoughts, save for a single line of curiosity.

“What are you?” She can’t help but ask, though her eyes can’t be deceiving her. He appraises her with a considering gleam, his wings folding back and out of the way. The horns have to be enough- the devilish tail. His soft laugh covers her body in a fresh wave of heat and she closes her eyes.

“You summoned me, shouldn’t you know?” She opens her eyes and he’s hovering right across from her at the end of the bed. Eye level with his stomach, she bites back the whimper of need that tries to push past her clenched teeth at the sight of him, his little strip of fabric doing nothing but veiling the color of his skin. She feels a gush of wetness between her legs as she clenches and strains to stay still, huffing her breath out.

“Didn’t think it would work. Are you the one that’s doing this to me?” She mutters, too late to cover her breasts but she does it anyway- anything to remain in the illusion of control. The sharp tick of his smile tells her he isn’t buying it, and she widens her eyes in surprise when his wings disappear. He drops his knees onto the mattress and she yelps when it dips.

Fuck… he’s real.

“What did you think would happen when you opened a black grimoire and chose a spell? That an imp would pop up and throw money at you?” She bites her lip, watching his long black fingernails clench the duvet and pull it farther down the bed.

“Well…” His eyes flash with annoyance.

“All you humans are the same- power, money, fame, wealth. Make a mistake? Wrong page?” She bristles at his sudden chiding, cursing her friends for giving her the damn thing. She’s going to throttle them tomorrow.

“So what? Can’t you just go back to where you came from?” She sucks in a breath when he draws closer, hands planting themselves on either side of her ankles. She watches him carefully, the way the light shines through the thin fabric of his loincloth to show her the heavy shadow of his cock beneath, and she bites the inside of her cheek when her clit throbs at the sight.

“I’m contracted, stupid mortal. Your blood has bound me to this plane. I can't just go back.” He sneers and she squirms as he crawls forward again, his head hovering over her hips. Her mind imagines filthy things with him so close, her body betraying her as her thighs untense and spread softly- barely a few inches- but it’s enough. She watches his gaze drop to the arms covering her chest, then lower, and she snaps her legs back together.

“Um… sorry. What contract? What does it entail?” He looks back up at her, lips pressed into a firm line of disappointment and she glares back.

“You didn’t read the fine print?”

“What fine fucking print? I can’t read half the words on those pages!” She cries out indignantly, not realizing her frustrated gesturing has left her chest exposed again. He surges forward quicker than she can react and with the sharp edges of his nails, he rips the straps off her dress, causing her breasts to fall free properly. She yelps, instinctively trying to cover up again but he snaps his fingers and the script on her wrists glows, making her palms flatten against the bed.

“I’ll let you guess the terms,” He murmurs, sitting back on his heels. She squirms, trying to free her arms, and when he snaps his fingers again she can lift them.

“What- what was that?” She whispers, fear clouding her voice. He smirks, his hands resting on his thighs, and gestures towards the dresser.

“Says it in the fine print.”

“Please?” She whimpers, hugging her torso tightly. She’s afraid- afraid of the patterns on her thighs, on her wrists, on her neck. She stares at them warily, the terror that had been muted by her lust now stretching into every part of her body. What’s going on? What is he? What’s going to happen to me?

“Tssk,” He settles back fully, legs crossing on her mattress. Her eyes move over his face again, catching on his pretty red eyes, his full lips. The slope of his nose is beautiful- strong and sharp. She traces his features, finding her heartbeat slowing slightly the longer she takes him in. His lips part, revealing those sharp fangs on both the top and bottom row of his teeth, and she idly wonders what they’d feel like on her neck, on her skin… “Darling… I can’t have you afraid of me. That’s not how this night is going to go.” His soft voice makes her shiver and she’s lulled by the sound of it. She raises her head slightly, gaze growing heavier the longer he stares at her.

“How this night is going to go…?” She echoes, slow, the end shaped like a question. His tail swishes back and forth before the spade tip caresses up her calf. With him finally touching her, she gasps, the softest glance magnified like it was earlier. She shudders, pressing her thighs more tightly together, shaking her head, but her body eventually wins out.

“The terms, dear…” He murmurs, leaning forward again. Her skin is feverish when his tail draws away and he crawls over her again. She shrinks back, lying against her pillows, his thighs caging her in as his hands settle on either side of her head.

“Uh…” She stammers, trying to get a coherent thought through. He’s so close she can see small flecks of gold in his eyes and the soft ridges on his horns. She finds herself wanting to caress them, the thought causing her cheeks to burn. “Terms… right. The spell is making me… making my body act like this?” She whispers cautiously and he nods, encouraging her to continue. “It made these… weird tattoos show up on my skin… and you can control them?” He nods again, eyes twinkling in amusement. Her nostrils flare in irritation, but she keeps going, realization finally dawning as she approaches the conclusion.

“I… this lust… oh my god…” He tuts, smirking with satisfaction.

“You finally understand?” The growl in his voice makes her eyes flutter shut. With the answer flaring brightly behind her lids, her body opens up in a way it hadn’t before. Her thighs spread until they’re pushing against his knees, her breath leaving her in a rush. She clenches around nothing, thinking about the shape of him under the loincloth and when her eyes snap open again he laughs, deep and sugared.

“You want my body?” She asks breathlessly, the slip hanging over her stomach becoming itchy and unbearable. His lashes fall halfway and when his forked tongue darts across his lower lip she whimpers in response.

“Usually you call an incubus because you need relief, but… your scent is maddening and I've barely even touched you…” He purrs, lips dropping down to her jaw. She moans at the slightest touch, her cunt clenching again followed by a rush of wetness dripping down her folds. Her underwear are long since ruined, and she slowly moves her hands up, hesitating over him.

“Can I… touch you?” She gasps, the last threads of restraint slowly snapping. He pulls away, hungry eyes raking over her face and neck and down to her breasts. She tugs her lower lip into her mouth, watching him nod, before caressing the planes of his chest.

His skin is so hot… a lovely shade of light rose. Her fingers ghost over his collarbones before pressing up, up, to the sides of his face. His crimson gaze flicks back up to meet hers and she teeters over the edge, debating, before he makes the decision for her and leans down to capture her lips.

Wet and messy, their tongues tangle and she whimpers into his mouth, hands carding through his hair. He tastes divine… or wicked, she isn’t sure which. His kiss is hot, lips soft and she moans against his tongue when his teeth catch on her lip to lightly nip at it. It’s all her favorite flavors at once and she can’t keep her hips on the bed, wanting to pull him in closer, wanting to feel the hard edge of his cock-

“Nnng!” She gasps when he nudges his shaft against her stomach, the weight of it making her dizzy. Her clit pulses and blood pounds through her, vocalizing the wave of desire in breathy pants against his mouth. He doesn’t stay quiet either- the sounds and groans he makes turning her insides to liquid as she rocks against him, hands clawing at his back. His anchor on her dress and a loud tear sounds through the room as he rips it free.

“Hey! That was my favorite!” She protests, but he’s sinking his knees between her thighs and tossing the scraps away, revealing her naked torso to him. The anger dies as she watches him draw back, and can almost feel the burning of his gaze over her body. She squirms again, clamping her legs around his, wanting to hide from the attention but it’s all in vain. All for show. She couldn’t deny him now even if she wanted to.

“Darling, don’t lie. You’re just as impatient as I am,” His voice is deep, sitting in the back of his throat. She inhales sharply, watching him lower himself to press his nose into the hollow of her neck. His cock settles over her heat, separated by two layers of fabric, and before she can grind into it his hands are on her hips, forcing them still.

“God…” She whispers, the steady throb against her aching bud making her jaw go slack. He laps at the skin of her neck, making her legs twitch, before his sharp upper canines sink in. If she’d been delirious before… she’s absolutely lost now.

She cries out, heart pounding as he slowly drags his heavy length over her soaked underwear. His loincloth is covering the image from sight as she angels her jaw down, delighting in every bite he peppers over her neck and shoulder. She drags her fingers over his horns and he groans, hips stuttering, the sound needy and desperate. She continues caressing as his tail flicks in the air, pleased and tenderly mouthing at the aching wounds he’s left on her. They sting, but there’s something new in the mix- churning around her gut and making her mouth spill constant sighs and pants as her vision goes hazy and pink.

“W-what do I call you?” She asks, taking in his messy curls and kiss-swollen mouth. Blood stains his lips and a curl of want pulses south at the sight, wanting him to push her panties to the side and rub directly against her, the pressure so distracting she almost rolls her hips automatically, chasing the feeling of him.

He cocks a brow, inhaling deeply before a delicate smile crosses his face. His tail winds around her leg and she laughs in spite of herself, enjoying the way the tip rubs soft circles into the inside of her thigh.

“Astarion,” He murmurs, and she lowers her hands from his horns, eyes darting to his groin.

“Astarion…” She rolls his name around on her tongue, the subtle shiver that shifts through him not going unnoticed. “Mine’s Ofelia,” She mumbles and he strokes her cheek.

“Ofelia,” She preens at how he says it, a flush spreading over her cheeks in response. Her fingers push into the cloth at his hips, a silent question hanging in the air as she gently tugs on it. He nods and she fiddles with the clasp at the side of his hip before it falls and flutters away, leaving him exposed.

She isn’t sure if it’s the side effects of the spell or simply her own desire, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of him.

“Oh.” Is all she says, like an idiot. Her eyes admire the girth- thick veins spreading over the shaft. He’s nearly purple at the tip, leaking onto her underwear, and she shifts restlessly at the sight as her mouth floods with saliva and her clit aches as he nudges against it.

“I see I’m going to have to do all the sweet-talking, pet.” She shudders as his hands brush along her trembling stomach muscles, down to her thighs, before guiding her underwear down and off. They run back up the length of her torso, softly squeezing and kneading at the soft flesh of her breasts as his lips catch on one of her nipples. She whimpers at the sensations building inside, chasing his touches with her fingers, craving more contact with an almost crazed fervor. She’s still hypnotized by the length of him as he gently rubs his cock between her puffy folds and she swallows, strangled moans caught in her throat. The hard ridge along his tip drags over her swollen clit and in addition to the lightning bolt of pleasure that coaxes more juices to spill from her, the urge to taste him is so intense that it feels like it’s written on her bones.

“I… I want you here.” She mumbles, fingers tracing her face, and he laughs.

“You want to see… if you can take me… in your pretty mouth…?” He whispers, thumb brushing over her lower lip. She nods desperately, parting them to suck him in as her body trembles in anticipation. His jaw tightens as he watches, her tongue swirling around his warm skin, fierce with desire. She hums when his cock twitches, softly bumping her stomach when he moves as a quiet sound vibrates in his chest. He watches her a moment more, eyes burning, before he shifts to the side and drags her off the bed, onto the floor.

She sits obediently on her knees, closing her eyes as his fingers thread into her hair. His touch is soft, and her face warms as she realizes what he’s doing, but embarrassment has long since receded into the recesses of her mind. He gathers the strands at the back of her head before tugging gently- just the way she likes. She sighs, opening her eyes to shamelessly stare at him, yearning to lick the pearl of glistening pre-cum off his flushed tip. She flicks her eyes up to his and the desire she sees there lights a fire in her belly that spurs her forward, hands resting over his hips as she sets her sights and dives in.

Astarion hisses when she kisses the base of him, bathing him in her attention and affectionate nips. Her thighs shiver as she continues her trail of teasing, his grip on her scalp growing tighter. She flashes him a soft smile before kissing down the weighty length of him, lips parting when she pulls away to watch him leak a silvery strand down to her breasts. She swallows a breathy whine before eagerly lapping it up, her ears ringing from the sharp inhale and throaty groan he gives her when she finally sucks the tip inside.

He fills her entire mouth before she can draw him in further and her cunt clenches with jealousy imagining him pushing inside, on her back, a bruising grip on her hips… Her fantasies play behind her closed lids as she hollows her cheeks and relaxes her jaw to swallow more, moaning lightly as he nudges the back of her throat.

Tears form in her eyes as she blinks up at him, her hips restless as he tugs on her hair and pulls out of her mouth before slowly thrusting inside. The fingers of her free hand trail down her body, pinching at the pebbled flesh on her breasts before dipping lower to alleviate some of the tension winding around her belly. She spreads the slick gathering at her entrance, circling her aching clit, and her eyes squint shut, sobbing at the spark of pleasure that flashes up her body, his cock twitching in her mouth.

“Hells…” He whispers, her mind slowly melting the longer he fucks her mouth. Her entire body aches for him, for this pleasure- she squirms and whimpers, letting him set the pace as she rocks against her hand. He’s considerate of her adjustment period until a glimmering sweat breaks out on his chest and her eyes track a drop as it follows the curve of his pelvic bone. When it meets his shaft a switch flips and she abandons all rational thought for the need to please.

She struggles to take him fully, but every time he needly ruts into her and her lips meet his hips he grunts- a gravelly, greedy thing that stokes the heat in her belly until she’s whimpering and shivering for more. He’s making a mess out of her, and she increases the pace, removing her hand from its previous position to pull his hips in each time they snap forward hungrily. He smears spit and slick over her chin each time he slips out until it's dripping over her breasts and fingers, her thumbs swirl the fluid over the stiff peaks of her nipples as waves of pleasure rumble through her- just as strong as it had been in the shower, perhaps even more.

They lock eyes as he angles her chin to take more of him, electricity shooting through her as her tongue swirls around before lingering on the sensitive underside of his head. He yanks her hair and hisses, in one fluid motion pistoning inside and she moans on his cock. Her mind is blissfully blank as he pins her against the side of the bed, reveling in the way he twitches and cups her cheek as he drives in and out, in and out at a languid pace. The blunt head of his cock kisses the back of her throat again, his stomach muscles tightening, and her fingers brush over the seam of his balls until his hips stutter and a raspy moan pours from his mouth. She holds his gaze, taking him impossibly deeper, and she whines in disapproval when he slips out with a lewd pop.

“Can’t have you driving the whole time, darling,” He murmurs, and she gasps when he leans down to meld their lips together in a bruising kiss. The enthusiasm behind his touches makes her hum happily and he places a hand over her throat before squeezing and forcing her to stand. His tight grip makes her dizzy and she sways on her feet, mind blank, as he chuckles and presses them tightly together.

“Like that, do you?” He murmurs in her ear and she nods, wrapping her arms around his waist as his sharp canines brush against her skin.

“Do you… drink the blood?” She whispers, brief flashes of curiosity drifting through her lust-clouded mind.

“Hmm?” She draws back so their lips brush, the striking scarlet of his eyes inquisitive and rapt.

“You had blood on your lips earlier, when you bit me…” She whispers, watching his face shift in recognition.

“Ahh… that.” He grins, a fang peeking out from under his top lip and it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. “It’s common for us to partake- the magic in your blood increases your sense of touch and your blood in turn does for us as well. It’s why you needed to sacrifice it for the spell.” His smile twists into something sinful, her legs pressing together. “Somehow, I hardly need the encouragement...” He whispers as his hands softly squeeze her ass. She smiles in reply, eyes lingering on his teeth and she hesitantly presses a kiss to his jaw. More follow, light and sweet as his grip fluctuates from gentle to rough when her lips brush over his neck.

“Can I…?” She asks and he nods at her testing teeth before she sinks her own into his skin. He sighs into her ear, his hands caressing her back as his sharp nails lightly scratch over her skin. She whimpers into the marks she leaves him with, nipping up to his earlobe before teasing the skin between her teeth. He stills and groans, grinding his stiff length against her hip and she licks up to the pointed tip before sucking it lightly into her mouth.

“Ofelia…” Her name rumbling in his chest makes her dizzy and she moves her left hand up to tickle the other ear until he’s driving them forward. The back of her knees connect with the mattress and she yelps, falling flat on her back as he stands between her parted thighs. His eyes are dark- the red eclipsed by his blown wide pupils, and her body shivers in fear. She feels hunted, prey beneath a ravenous lion, and the feeling twists her insides as he drops to a crouch and lifts her legs until they’re resting over his shoulders. She almost moans at the sight…

“I can’t leave until you’re satisfied…” He murmurs, nipping at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. His fangs graze the skin before he sinks them in and that rosy haze covers her vision again, her mind numb to the rest of the world as she focuses on what his mouth is doing. He’d been right about whatever’s in his saliva or bite as electricity tingles beneath her skin, every one of his touches sending sparks down the length of her body.

“God… I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of this.” She mumbles, forehead creasing in an effort to concentrate on him. He chuckles darkly, his burning gaze intertwined with hers and as she watches her blood drip from the corner of his lips her body twitches in response. It’s the most erotic thing she’s ever seen, almost hotter than when she’d peeled off the cloth, and she whines under his smug smile.

“Don’t go saying that now…” He whispers as he presses soft kisses up, closer to where she needs him most. “Or I’ll be tempted to show you which page the binding spell is on.” She gasps, not having time to process his words as his tongue darts out to swipe up the seam of her before languidly running back down. Her vision whites, a high-pitched cry tearing from her throat as he circles her clit. The fork in his tongue adds an extra sensation that makes fireworks explode behind her eyes, her hips lifting off the bed as he lightly flicks and dips it lower, embarrassing noises spilling from her lips as she drags her fingers through his hair.

When he circles her entrance, lapping at the slick that’s been dripping down her thighs, she throws her head back and begs, pleading on deaf ears for him to plunge in, his nose pressing into the aching swell of her and it’s just the right amount of pressure-

“Fuck!” She sobs, back arching off the bed as his long fingers push inside in place of his tongue. He licks softly at her clit, pushing the hood back gently and when he sucks she nearly blacks out. His fingers are thick, so warm… he starts with two, working her open, curling in until he nudges the place inside she’s lucky to reach on a good day. It makes her entire body convulse as she clamps her thighs around him, fingers twisting in the sheets as his name tumbles from her lips over and over again like a prayer.

“Another, sweet girl?” The lilt to his voice is so innocent, but the words are pure sin and a shiver runs from the base of her skull to the tip of her spine in response, her babbling incoherent. Instead, she nods, trying to keep her eyes open, focusing on the little vent on her ceiling, anything- god he’s too good…

When he adds another digit she almost comes undone, but he shushes her with a kiss on the inside of her thigh, halting his movements. She’s allowed a few seconds to breathe, gasping for air, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. His hair is falling from its perfect swoop atop his head, dusting his eyes. He’s so handsome she almost can’t believe this is real, so focused on how hot he looks eating her out that she doesn’t see his arm coiling before he sets the pace again.

Her eyes fly shut and her head falls back, wanton cries filling the air- so loud she’s certain there will be a noise complaint in her mailbox in the morning.

His thumb strokes over her swollen nub as he pushes inside and she’s gone.

Her ankles lock around his head, pulling him deeper as she comes on his tongue and his name leaves her lips over and over, chest heaving as tears pool and spill out of the corners of her eyes. Her hips leave the mattress, her mind unaware how, hands anchored to his horns to keep him there all while his tongue massages her inner walls and draws her pleasure out with every stroke. It’s never been like this- completely blank, delirious, incoherent. It feels like someone’s holding her over a flame and she’s burning, burning, stroking her fingers over the ridges of his horns as he shivers and runs his tongue up over her sensitive clit, making her wail at the overstimulation. Her hips finally meet the mattress again as she dissolves over the messy blanket, realizing his nails had pressed stinging cuts to her buttocks as he’d dragged her over the edge.

“Satisfied?” He whispers, his face hovering over hers. She hadn’t noticed he’d shifted and her hands had fallen, her stare empty and tracking dust motes floating through the beams of moonlight. She focuses on his pretty lips, glistening from his previous ministrations, and she reaches up to pull him into a deep kiss as he stumbles and falls over her, his chuckle stroking some deeply seated, violent thing inside her. He tastes like her, the two of them mixed and she’s tingling from head to toe, so consumed by touching every part of him as her hands explore and roam. They find his neglected length and she softly strokes him with one as the other rests over the nape of his neck to continue sliding their lips together.

“Not yet…” She finally answers him after pulling away to gasp for air, voice ragged. She smiles sweetly, lashes dipped low, wanting him closer. Something about him just burrows inside, familiar and calming. She hadn’t noticed it before, too buried beneath the overpowering magic thrumming through her veins. She’s glad that he’s the one that showed up.

She nuzzles her nose into his hair, the faintest hint of brimstone and ash dusting his white locks. He stutters out a low, breathy moan as she continues to slowly stroke him and in her trance she pulls back to bare her throat for him. She quickens her pace as his teeth sink in once more, drawing filthy moans from her lips as heat coils in her belly. It’s addicting, the pain and pleasure of his sharp teeth. She offers up more of herself to him and her hips snap up into his when his mouth closes around one nipple to puncture the sensitive skin before greedily suckling on it.

“Nnng… ‘starion…” She mumbles, a strangled cry leaving her lips as she spreads the pre-cum weeping from his cock down his shaft, his mouth going rough as he groans in reply. “Need you…” She murmurs and he sucks harder before leaving bleeding crescents over her other breast.

“You taste so good…” He whispers, the soft snap of his fingers wrenching her hands from her control as they come up, above her head, wrists glowing as if he’s holding them himself. The loss of control is staggering, but as he rises, eyes glowing, blood coating his lips, she feels a fierce craving spread low in her body before she’s aching for him and his tongue and fingers won’t suffice this time. She wants the real thing.

“Please…” She whines, straining against her invisible bonds as he presses himself against her slit to coat himself in the wetness there. Slippery, obscene sounds fill the room and the way he slides and catches on her entrance before gliding over her throbbing clit coax her heart to pound harder, a shock sparking between her legs at his low lurching moan.

“Please-!” She repeats, thrashing as he continues, every touch and throb of his cock pure torture. His claws dig into her hips, her mouth spilling every curse and prayer she knows as he prods at her entrance.

“My turn,” He growls, stilling her rocking hips. Her eyes slam closed as she shudders around him, the pain a dull echo as he gradually sinks into her waiting heat. He almost doesn’t fit, eyes latched onto the place he’s desperately trying to defile, and she watches him tremble under the effort of restraint when he finally slips inside. He draws a muffled wail from her as he sinks inside, an iron grip holding her in place as she twists her arms above her, panting and clenching around him as she adjusts to the stretch. She finally relaxes as his hands caress her shivering thighs, letting him gently soothe her tense muscles so he can fully sheath within her.

The feeling of fullness is like nothing else- he occupies every inch as his hips finally meet hers and her breath rushes out of her as if he’s taking up every spare bit of room inside her body. He waits, lower lip anchored beneath twin fangs, and she holds him in her blurring gaze. She can’t breathe, chest tight, the soft sounds building in her chest climbing into a litany of pleading and praise.

“So… much… please move,” She gasps as he reaches up to grab her hands and the bonds vanish, guiding them down to the mattress on either side of her head as their fingers intertwine. He’s close, so close she can see every detail on his face, can see the way his brow tenses and sweat gathers over the creasing flesh. Her thighs press against her chest as he folds her legs back, ankles dangling over his shoulders, and she screws her eyes shut as he dips impossibly deeper inside. The whine that slips out of her gritted teeth as he slowly drags out is nothing compared to the sharp, wailing cry when he pistons back into her. It dwarfs any sound she’s ever made; despite the circumstances, her cheeks burn in reply.

“Astarion!” She sobs, holding on to him for dear life. He sets a slow pace at first and she cries with each movement, repeating his name and twisting her head from side to side. He abandons his restraining grip on one of her hands to press one to her throat, stilling her writhing, lips pulled into a fangy grin.

“Eyes on me, pet.” He whispers. She gasps, clenching at the sound of his voice and the tight clutch over her neck. “I’m going to fill you… over… and over… and over…” Her eyes fly shut and she arches into him, mind fogging as he continues to thrust with rough, slow snaps of his hips. “Hells… barely been inside you for a minute… and you’re already brainless.”

“Fuck you,” She gasps when his hand disappears from her neck, a finger pad pressing to her clit to rub soft circles against it.

“That’s the idea,” He chuckles, dropping his lips to kiss her, scattering them over her jaw, neck, and chest. His hot tongue swirls over one nipple, then the other, the pressure building in her lower stomach faster than the first time. Whatever magic flows through her veins, it’s causing her vision to blur, her chest to feel light and her heart to crash against her ribs. Every drag of his cock steals her breath, every whispered word makes her impossibly wetter- afraid to look at the mess in the morning. He squeezes her breasts and her eyes flutter closed, the sensation of stroking on her bundle of nerves making her jump-

“Is that…?” She doesn’t finish, watching his tail flick in the air with a smirk before he descends on her again. “I… I don’t know how much longer-”

“Let go,” He interrupts, tongue flicking over the peaks of her breasts before he locks their gazes once more. She whines, lost in the tide of his thrusts and the way he feels inside her. He so big… so full… she can’t help the way she squeezes and pulls him in each time he pounds back inside, drawing guttural growls from his throat as obscenely wet sounds fill the room. “You’re so good, Ofelia…” He murmurs, fingernails digging into the plump flesh of her thighs as his voice pulls the coil tighter. “Creaming all over my cock.” She bites her lip, his tail rubbing and stroking and pushing her closer and closer and-

“Astarion!” She sobs, every thread unraveling and burning out. There’s an entire night sky sprawled out before her closed eyelids as he fucks her through her climax, every sound he makes sending shockwaves through her after the initial crest and fall. When she finally looks at him, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are nearly black, his cock twitching inside her.

“So… tight…” He mumbles, hands resting over her hips as his thrusts become more erratic. He’s pulsing, growing hotter, filling her more until she feels like she’s going to shatter around him, dragging against the spot inside her that leaves her breathless and panting for more and she’s afraid it’ll never be enough. He rests a hand over the bulge in her stomach, over the shape of him, and the pressure makes her gush around his twitching cock.

“Please…” She whimpers, vision hazy around the edges. She isn’t sure what she’s begging for, but he seems to understand. He presses a kiss to her lips as her pounding heart fills the silent air, hands coming up to scratch at his back and cry his name, his cock pulsing and-

Hot and warm, he spills inside her with a strangled cry. She's almost afraid he'll never stop, filling her until she’s sure she can't hold anymore. Watching his face twist in pleasure as his hips still, gripping her waist to the point she’ll see marks in the morning, she whimpers and pulls him in for another bruising kiss. He plunges into her mouth like a starving man and she greedily matches his fervor, stroking his sides, pressing her palms against his chest, and running her fingers through his hair.

Her belly feels warm, full of his come, and his gaze darkens as he strokes the swell of flesh below her navel before flicking back up to her face. Trailing wisps of coherent thought dissolve into the recesses of her brain as his softening length begins to stiffen again, a soft growl slipping out of his mouth as his body jerks forward and he slides easily back inside. She chokes on a sound, the feeling lighting her up all over again as she struggles to accommodate him at full strength. She turns to look at the clock, registering the digital numbers turning to three am- they’d been at it for almost two hours.

“When you say you won’t leave until I’m satisfied… is that something you’ll just know? Or do I have to tell you?” He looks at her as he gently rolls his hips and her breath hitches as his tip brushes against her cervix.

“The tattoo on your neck will break,” He explains through his teeth, hands running over her body to gently squeeze her breasts and she moans softly as he rolls into her again.

“Is it still there?” She mumbles, wishing she could see into the mirror, but it’s behind him. He nods, dropping to his elbows to mouth at it, presumably. She floods his ears with delicate sighs, fingers splaying over his ribs as she traces his sides, eyes fluttering shut at the beautiful way his mouth moves-

“Ahh!” She yelps when he yanks her up off the mattress and pulls her into his arms, carried in the air. Her legs wind around him on instinct, clinging to his shoulders to not fall as he carries her into the living room. As she glances around the space, for some strange reason she feels off- almost as if a spell has been broken. Here he is, in another room of her apartment, and the strangeness she feels is entirely ridiculous. But he’s real, he’s real and standing in front of her tiny kitchen bar, eyes boring into her own, mischievous smile painted over his face. She traces his lips with her forefinger, smirk reflecting his, and he’s draping her over the counter to have her again.

She loses count of how many times he does- in the kitchen, over the couch, against the door. He shows no signs of tiring, cock hard and always pumping her full. She can’t remember a moment where she isn’t tumbling over the edge, thoughts useless, head empty as his red eyes sparkle in the dark, intent on burrowing into her chest.

There’s a brief period where she’s under the stream from the shower, unsure how she got there and still cradled in his arms. Her mind is weak like trailing threads, too distracted by the almost numbing tingles spreading through her body as she smiles at him. He’s still fully sheathed inside her- she’s almost certain he hasn't pulled out since they left the bedroom- and his impossibly strong arms rest below the swell of her ass as he presses her against the shower wall and kisses her, water mixing on their tongues.

“Is the mark still there?” She whispers, vaguely curious as the hot water flushes her body a light pink. He pulls away, eyes hazy and clouded over with pleasure, before lifting her hips and pulling her back down onto his cock.

“Still… there…” He huffs, brows drawn down in concentration. “I may not be able to keep up, soon.” She giggles, holding tight as he finishes their shower and brings her back to bed. Why he’d even bothered trying to clean them up, she isn’t sure.

On her hands and knees she takes him, and when her arms begin to tire she lies on her stomach, cheek against the mattress while his hands hold her hips up and he groans and fills her again. She shivers as his feverish hands stroke over her thighs, down her back, and to her scalp, caressing her hair softly. Her eyes flutter shut as he rocks them back and forth, the tenderness of his actions making her stutter out a long, breathless sigh.

Hazily she registers him lying her on her side, still joined, strong grip on the back of her knee as he lightly draws another orgasm out of her, fingers deftly working at her clit until she comes with a broken sob and milks him for what she considers the rest of what he’s got. As he pants into her ear the horizon turns a faint purple beyond her window and she collapses against his chest, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw.

While they catch their breath, she feels her skin chill and an almost imperceptible pressure vanish from around her neck. Her fingers come up to touch her throat, groaning at the exhaustion weighing her limbs down and the sudden ache spreading over every muscle. He strokes her stomach, peering down at her, and she can see that the band is gone through her reflection in his eyes, her arms and legs finally clear of it.

“Oh no, it’s over?” She mumbles listlessly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyelids as she starts to come back to herself. A light chuckle from beside her draws her out of the odd feelings of disappointment and longing as she gazes up at him, early morning sun passing through his hair to turn it bright and golden. He looks more like an angel than any devil she’s ever pictured.

“You’re satisfied,” He smiles, faint and soft. It makes her heart twist uncomfortably as he reaches down and finally slips out of her. A flush burns her cheeks at the slickness that drips down and pools between her legs over the sheets.

“Hmm,” She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting to the ceiling and leveling a hateful glare over the vent that she’d previously latched on to when she needed to ground herself. “Doesn’t feel like it.” He covers her vision, looking pleased with himself, and she feels a pang of sadness knowing he’ll have to leave.

“My contract’s fulfilled, Ofelia.” She nods, patting his arm, and when he moves from behind her to stand in her bedroom, gloriously naked and back to her, she admires him like he’s a distant statue up high on a pedestal. Out of reach.

“Umm… do I say ‘It’s been fun!’ or ‘Thank you!’?” She asks, wincing as he turns to look at her over his shoulder. His amused smile makes her feel less awkward, and she jolts in surprise when he stoops down to press a kiss to her lips.

“It’s been fun, thank you,” He grins, all sharp teeth and cocky glint in his eyes. She stares, then smiles softly as he rises to his full height, and those elusive wings that had vanished before stretch out behind him to cover the length of her room. The next time she blinks, he’s gone, and she looks around the room in alarm before stilling.

It’s silent as death.

She lies back, staring back up at that vent, every part of her arching and sore, far too stiff to think about moving let alone changing her sheets. She closes her eyes, fierce loneliness prodding at her chest.

***

“Earth plane’s portal is ringing again,” The droning voice of Raphael calls out over the tops of the rows of desks, his tone growing more tired by the hour. No one answers, scrolls and papers flying about as the demons sitting behind their quills carry on cataloging and documenting contracts and summons.

“Did you not hear me?” Raphael sounds more on edge and Astarion flicks his tail in amusement, glancing across the desk at his chattiest coworker.

“Think Haarlep’s still booked?” Karlach grins, jotting something on her scroll before she flicks it behind her right shoulder and it hits a lowly imp in the head.

“Must be. Wonder if he’ll call me again,” Astarion sighs, idly flicking the quill pen in his hand around his fingers. He remembers his outing and smirks. He wouldn’t mind if it were her again. If only he could be so lucky.

“Astarion!”

“There it is- good luck, soldier,” Karlach whispers before grabbing her beverage to dart for the breakroom.

“Yes, sir?” Astarion sagely dips his head in a formal bow as he watches Raphael massage his temples.

“Please cover for Haarlep again,”

“Of course, sir.” Filling in for an incubus isn’t the job he’d thought he’d be doing while slaving away for an archdevil, but its excellent overtime and exceptional pay convince him fill out the request sheet every once in a while. When he steps through the portal he’s met with familiar darkened windows and the scent of vanilla, votives burning on every shelf and surface.

“Hope you weren’t busy?” He turns to see her standing in the middle of her little summoning circle, far too overdressed for his tastes, and smile bright and shining in the dim room.

“Ofelia,” He smirks, catching the spellbook when she tosses it at him.

“It’s already bookmarked, at least…” She walks closer, brown eyes flashing playfully as her long dark hair falls over her shoulder. “That’s if I read the fine print correctly.” He glances at the page, hellish heart flaring with warmth at the infernal word for binding. He grins.

“Cheeky pup,”

Pairing: Astarion/f!Tav ~ Astarion/f!OC (Ofelia) Word Count: 9,709 Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Does this Count as Monster Smut?, Oral, PIV Sex, Fingering, Masturbation, Stomach Bulge, Blood Drinking, Very Minor Dubcon (if you squint), Choking Summary: A gifted grimoire from her friends spells trouble when Ofelia accidentally summons an incubus. ~ An Incubus Astarion AU lovingly written and inspired by this artwork by @poofroom featuring my Tav and longfic main character, Ofelia!

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AO3 | Song Reference: Christian Woman by Type O Negative

I'm hoping to complete at least 4 prompts this month, once a week, but my main fic is my upmost priority! Still, I'm really excited to share this one!! @khywren really inspired me with their recent AMAZING writings, please check out their Kinktober 2024 works so far! You won't be disappointed! 🖤

No forgiveness,

For her sins.

Prefers punishment.

Would you suffer eternally?

Or internally?

For her lust,

She’ll burn in hell.

Her soul done medium well.

***

“There, all done!” Ofelia says to herself, dropping the white chalk she’d used to draw the symbol from the spellbook. It’d been a silly present from one of her friends- a gag gift, really. Spirit of the season and all that. What else is she supposed to do on a Friday night after three pina coladas and zero luck?

All her prospects were dull, and all of them had made some kind of backhanded remark about her intelligence or appearance at some point during the conversation that her interest had waned instantly. She’d definitely been to better Halloween parties.

For her own amusement, she sits and holds a candle up, briefly reading over the pages. She’s got the first ingredient, flickering restlessly in her other hand, the food offering to her right (a popcorn ball), something to channel the energy (a crystal that came with the book), and currency of some kind (a few quarters from her laundry fund). The last requirement is her blood.

“Whatever,” She shrugs, setting the candle down on its point in the star before leaning over to grab the pocket knife she’d used to open the package. She’s still tipsy, and explaining away a bandaged hand tomorrow doesn’t seem like that big of an issue to her at the moment.

She carefully presses the blade's tip into the meat of her palm and drags in one clean slice, wincing and holding her hand over the point closest to her. Droplets dot the white chalk with red and she clenches her fingers, waiting until there’s a small puddle, before getting up to grab her first aid kit and wrap the wound. Once reseated, she examines the page, noting something looks off, but neglecting to read further into why the diagrams are different before reciting the words at the bottom of the page.

She holds her breath, eyes scanning the apartment, before settling back on the circle. And… nothing happens.

“Oh!” She gasps when the candle blows out, expecting some kind of grand entrance- maybe a ring of fire! Or a black pit, opening within the symbol! But nothing comes.

She pouts dejectedly and gathers the items up before chucking them all into a box. She glares at the book, clasped between her fingers, and sighs. If anything, she’d hoped for a little excitement from this tonight- but magic isn’t real, and despite her alcohol-addled mind, she was a fool to think she could conjure it.

She gets up and opens her top dresser drawer, tossing the book in without a second thought as she checks the time on her phone- almost one. She walks into the living space, which is technically still part of her bedroom and separated only by a meager curtain. Her TV is off and silent against the wall, and she pulls her hoodie off to toss over the back of her couch.

The cool air flows in from her window AC and blesses the exposed skin around her costume- she’d gone as a devil, the strapless red bodysuit and pink tights still clinging to her. She pulls the headache-inducing horned headband off and sets it next to her sweater, turning and scanning the room for her prize. She smiles when she sees it, fetching the half-empty bottle of Malibu from the counter before downing it until her fingers numb and a delightful buzz thrums in her head. The night had been long, and an untold amount of sticky fluids had gotten on her legs, arms, and torso during the party so a shower before turning in feels like the perfect idea.

She goes into the bedroom to tug the bodice of the costume down until her breasts are free, breathing a sigh of relief when the constricting fabric is finally off. Her tights follow after, leaving her in nothing but her underwear as she moves towards her dresser. Her eyes linger on the book when she opens the drawer to pull out a night dress and she almost closes it before cocking a brow. Her hand hovers over her favorite slip as her eyes fall onto the page she’d been referencing when she drew the circle, but she swears it had been closed when she’d thrown it inside. The scrawl below it almost looks handwritten, not printed, but when Ofelia tries to read it, goosebumps gradually spread over her arms and legs and she scoffs at the words she can decipher.

“What the hell does ‘mind-altering satisfaction’ mean?” She mutters as she closes the book and grabs her dress before shoving the drawer closed again.

She starts the shower before discarding the remaining scrap of cloth into her hamper, leaning against her sink to wipe her makeup off. Tossing the cotton pads into the trash, she jumps under the hot stream, a low hum leaving her lips. It feels amazing as it rushes over her skin and douses her hair. She runs her hands up over her body, jumping when she caresses the sides of her breasts. They’re extra sensitive, and in her tingling, buzzing mind she feels her stomach tighten in response.

She shrugs. No one had been worthy to take home anyway. Might as well make the most of the night.

Her fingers ghost over her nipples and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip in an effort to stifle the sound that nearly tears out of her throat. Stars dance behind her eyes and she laughs incredulously, wiping the hair plastered to her cheeks away. It’d never felt this intense, and curiosity coaxes her hands lower as she carefully slips a finger between her legs.

“God!” She hisses, catching herself before she falls onto the tiled floor. Her vision nearly whites under the slightest glance against her clit and she heaves for breath, both palms pressing against the wall. She’d only drank her usual cocktails, and had been watching her drink like a hawk all night, so being exposed to something slipped into her glass at the party is out of the question. She shakes her head, cursing as her clit begins to throb steadily against the water streaming down the front of her body. She suppresses another groan, clenching her thighs together as she rinses out the remaining suds from her hair.

The need humming through her veins is almost blinding, and with shaking hands she pushes her hair back before leaning against the wall. She won’t fall this time… won’t fall…

She cries out as she runs her middle finger along her slit, teeth sinking into the soft skin of her forearm. Her entire body shakes from the pleasure of it, so intense that it weakens her knees and she almost buckles to the floor again. She bites harder to center herself, afraid of the bruise that will surely stand out in the morning, but she’ll manage.

She dips between her folds, the slick beneath so copious she can feel it through the stream from the showerhead. She moans and cautiously presses a finger inside, slowly, but no matter how careful she could have been, it doesn’t stop the sharp coil in her gut and the shockwave of ecstasy that flashes from the roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes.

She mewls like an untouched virgin, mind hazy with want. This… this is unlike anything she’s ever felt- not like she’s had much experience in that department- but every nerve feels like it’s on fire. The shower turns to ice and she has to step out, body quivering and skin clammy despite the temperature of the water.

She grabs the towel, whining as the fabric rubs against the sensitive flesh on her breasts before slipping her nightgown over her head. The thin black satin and lace clings to her and she stares at the mess in the mirror as she dries her hair, eyes catching on the stiff peaks on her chest straining against the fabric. They trail up over her arms and her shoulders before stopping and freezing.

“What the hell…?” She whispers, dropping the towel to press up against the sink again, trying to ignore the little shivers of pleasure when her nipples rub against the chilled granite. Her fingers seek the strange marks that circle her neck almost like a tattoo, the dashes and squiggles familiar, almost…

There’s no way. There’s no way.

Ofelia doesn’t stop to pick her towel up off the floor, sweat making her damp hair stick to her face and neck as it breaks out over her entire body. She opens the drawer once more to the book open, not closed as she’d left it. She swears and pulls it out, setting it on top as she looks at the scrawl over the page opposite to the sigil. It’s indecipherable, in some kind of language or symbols she can’t read, but it matches the marks on her skin perfectly. Whatever they are, they’re definitely a result of the ritual, and Ofelia sinks into a sitting position on her mattress as regret fills her mind.

I shouldn’t have done that. God, I’m so stupid. Mama warned me never to mess with this stuff. Ofelia chews on her cuticles, nervous energy humming alongside the desire burning in her body. Every sense of hers is attuned to the way the slip touches her skin, how her clit throbs for attention, how she clenches around nothing, aching to fill the void.

It isn’t natural, and that fact scares her more than she’d like to admit. She pushes the craving to touch out of her mind, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear before crawling beneath her duvet. It’s hot, so hot… her skin feels like lava- her heart beat skyrocketing. Maybe she’s going to die?

“Oh god, I’m so stupid. So stupid!” She sobs, shoving her face into the pillow as she lays on her stomach. The pressure makes her roll her hips before she can stop herself and she whimpers, biting the silk pillowcase to redirect her frustration. Maybe she should give in and see if that’ll end this torment, but the unease of the situation needles at her mind... She rolls over and tugs the blanket around her chin, twisting her hips and drumming her fingers over her stomach. The length of the day settles over her shoulders and it weighs her down despite the sweat on her skin and the ache between her legs. She tries not to picture the relief she’d feel if her legs were spread instead, slip tugged over her chest, underwear discarded. She groans and shuts her eyes, somehow drifting off to sleep.

She dreams in scattered images, flashing across her vision like a picture show. Hot, begging, on her knees. A man with strong hands and sharp teeth touches her heated skin, peels her dress off, mouths at her breasts… her haggard breathing is audible in the room, echoing off the walls, her hips rolling into his touch, her mouth closing around-

Her eyes fly open, the curtains in front of her window fluttering in the breeze as the clock registers that it’s only one thirty. It takes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and she vaguely recalls not leaving it open… The covers fall off her chest when she sits up, soft moonlight pouring in to paint her body a cool blue. The slip rides up her hips, breasts spilling out the sides, and something moves out of the corner of her vision that sparks gooseflesh to spread over her bare thighs and arms.

The curtain flutters away, revealing the silhouette of a man. Except it isn’t a man… As the light illuminates the hard cut of his torso, bat-like wings stretch and unfurl on either side of him, wicked horns curling up and over his silver hair. Red irises glow in the night, trained on her face, a tail swishing behind him. She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move- her heart pounds, but her body reacts in a way she hadn’t expected. Her skin breaks out in the same feverish sweat that she’d felt before crawling into bed, her stomach aching and her breathing coming in short pants. She chances a glance in the full length mirror across the room, her cheeks flushing red at the uselessness of her night dress. The marks that had started at her neck circle her wrists and close around her thighs like bands.

“Am I dreaming?” She asks softly, unable to resist the pull she feels towards him. He takes a step and she tenses, eyes admiring his broad shoulders, ornamental silver bracers covering each forearm. Most of his body is bare, save for the thin piece of satiny fabric and gilded chains covering his hips. Her eyes trace the trail of hair that disappears beneath, down until her breath chokes out of her. Her thighs press together at the hard outline beneath the loincloth, her imagination filling in the gaps- thick, straining, throbbing. Her mouth floods with saliva and she swallows thickly as the steady pulse from earlier begs for attention, shame dissolving as his crimson gaze flows down over her exposed breasts. The sudden urge to touch him fills her mind until it’s all she can think about, even as he opens his mouth to expose sharp canines.

“I’m afraid not.” His voice, smooth and velvety, covers her body like honey. She shivers as he takes another step, so close now that she can see the sharp tips of his ears beneath his hair. His lips curl into a fiendish grin and she shakes her head, wanting him closer, god, she can’t take the distance anymore. Some fire’s possessing her and she feels herself clench again, the sudden instinct to grind against the mattress and relieve the tension leaving her dazed. Her mind roars, wanting more than anything she’s ever wanted before to have him touch her. It drowns rational thoughts, save for a single line of curiosity.

“What are you?” She can’t help but ask, though her eyes can’t be deceiving her. He appraises her with a considering gleam, his wings folding back and out of the way. The horns have to be enough- the devilish tail. His soft laugh covers her body in a fresh wave of heat and she closes her eyes.

“You summoned me, shouldn’t you know?” She opens her eyes and he’s hovering right across from her at the end of the bed. Eye level with his stomach, she bites back the whimper of need that tries to push past her clenched teeth at the sight of him, his little strip of fabric doing nothing but veiling the color of his skin. She feels a gush of wetness between her legs as she clenches and strains to stay still, huffing her breath out.

“Didn’t think it would work. Are you the one that’s doing this to me?” She mutters, too late to cover her breasts but she does it anyway- anything to remain in the illusion of control. The sharp tick of his smile tells her he isn’t buying it, and she widens her eyes in surprise when his wings disappear. He drops his knees onto the mattress and she yelps when it dips.

Fuck… he’s real.

“What did you think would happen when you opened a black grimoire and chose a spell? That an imp would pop up and throw money at you?” She bites her lip, watching his long black fingernails clench the duvet and pull it farther down the bed.

“Well…” His eyes flash with annoyance.

“All you humans are the same- power, money, fame, wealth. Make a mistake? Wrong page?” She bristles at his sudden chiding, cursing her friends for giving her the damn thing. She’s going to throttle them tomorrow.

“So what? Can’t you just go back to where you came from?” She sucks in a breath when he draws closer, hands planting themselves on either side of her ankles. She watches him carefully, the way the light shines through the thin fabric of his loincloth to show her the heavy shadow of his cock beneath, and she bites the inside of her cheek when her clit throbs at the sight.

“I’m contracted, stupid mortal. Your blood has bound me to this plane. I can't just go back.” He sneers and she squirms as he crawls forward again, his head hovering over her hips. Her mind imagines filthy things with him so close, her body betraying her as her thighs untense and spread softly- barely a few inches- but it’s enough. She watches his gaze drop to the arms covering her chest, then lower, and she snaps her legs back together.

“Um… sorry. What contract? What does it entail?” He looks back up at her, lips pressed into a firm line of disappointment and she glares back.

“You didn’t read the fine print?”

“What fine fucking print? I can’t read half the words on those pages!” She cries out indignantly, not realizing her frustrated gesturing has left her chest exposed again. He surges forward quicker than she can react and with the sharp edges of his nails, he rips the straps off her dress, causing her breasts to fall free properly. She yelps, instinctively trying to cover up again but he snaps his fingers and the script on her wrists glows, making her palms flatten against the bed.

“I’ll let you guess the terms,” He murmurs, sitting back on his heels. She squirms, trying to free her arms, and when he snaps his fingers again she can lift them.

“What- what was that?” She whispers, fear clouding her voice. He smirks, his hands resting on his thighs, and gestures towards the dresser.

“Says it in the fine print.”

“Please?” She whimpers, hugging her torso tightly. She’s afraid- afraid of the patterns on her thighs, on her wrists, on her neck. She stares at them warily, the terror that had been muted by her lust now stretching into every part of her body. What’s going on? What is he? What’s going to happen to me?

“Tssk,” He settles back fully, legs crossing on her mattress. Her eyes move over his face again, catching on his pretty red eyes, his full lips. The slope of his nose is beautiful- strong and sharp. She traces his features, finding her heartbeat slowing slightly the longer she takes him in. His lips part, revealing those sharp fangs on both the top and bottom row of his teeth, and she idly wonders what they’d feel like on her neck, on her skin… “Darling… I can’t have you afraid of me. That’s not how this night is going to go.” His soft voice makes her shiver and she’s lulled by the sound of it. She raises her head slightly, gaze growing heavier the longer he stares at her.

“How this night is going to go…?” She echoes, slow, the end shaped like a question. His tail swishes back and forth before the spade tip caresses up her calf. With him finally touching her, she gasps, the softest glance magnified like it was earlier. She shudders, pressing her thighs more tightly together, shaking her head, but her body eventually wins out.

“The terms, dear…” He murmurs, leaning forward again. Her skin is feverish when his tail draws away and he crawls over her again. She shrinks back, lying against her pillows, his thighs caging her in as his hands settle on either side of her head.

“Uh…” She stammers, trying to get a coherent thought through. He’s so close she can see small flecks of gold in his eyes and the soft ridges on his horns. She finds herself wanting to caress them, the thought causing her cheeks to burn. “Terms… right. The spell is making me… making my body act like this?” She whispers cautiously and he nods, encouraging her to continue. “It made these… weird tattoos show up on my skin… and you can control them?” He nods again, eyes twinkling in amusement. Her nostrils flare in irritation, but she keeps going, realization finally dawning as she approaches the conclusion.

“I… this lust… oh my god…” He tuts, smirking with satisfaction.

“You finally understand?” The growl in his voice makes her eyes flutter shut. With the answer flaring brightly behind her lids, her body opens up in a way it hadn’t before. Her thighs spread until they’re pushing against his knees, her breath leaving her in a rush. She clenches around nothing, thinking about the shape of him under the loincloth and when her eyes snap open again he laughs, deep and sugared.

“You want my body?” She asks breathlessly, the slip hanging over her stomach becoming itchy and unbearable. His lashes fall halfway and when his forked tongue darts across his lower lip she whimpers in response.

“Usually you call an incubus because you need relief, but… your scent is maddening and I've barely even touched you…” He purrs, lips dropping down to her jaw. She moans at the slightest touch, her cunt clenching again followed by a rush of wetness dripping down her folds. Her underwear are long since ruined, and she slowly moves her hands up, hesitating over him.

“Can I… touch you?” She gasps, the last threads of restraint slowly snapping. He pulls away, hungry eyes raking over her face and neck and down to her breasts. She tugs her lower lip into her mouth, watching him nod, before caressing the planes of his chest.

His skin is so hot… a lovely shade of light rose. Her fingers ghost over his collarbones before pressing up, up, to the sides of his face. His crimson gaze flicks back up to meet hers and she teeters over the edge, debating, before he makes the decision for her and leans down to capture her lips.

Wet and messy, their tongues tangle and she whimpers into his mouth, hands carding through his hair. He tastes divine… or wicked, she isn’t sure which. His kiss is hot, lips soft and she moans against his tongue when his teeth catch on her lip to lightly nip at it. It’s all her favorite flavors at once and she can’t keep her hips on the bed, wanting to pull him in closer, wanting to feel the hard edge of his cock-

“Nnng!” She gasps when he nudges his shaft against her stomach, the weight of it making her dizzy. Her clit pulses and blood pounds through her, vocalizing the wave of desire in breathy pants against his mouth. He doesn’t stay quiet either- the sounds and groans he makes turning her insides to liquid as she rocks against him, hands clawing at his back. His anchor on her dress and a loud tear sounds through the room as he rips it free.

“Hey! That was my favorite!” She protests, but he’s sinking his knees between her thighs and tossing the scraps away, revealing her naked torso to him. The anger dies as she watches him draw back, and can almost feel the burning of his gaze over her body. She squirms again, clamping her legs around his, wanting to hide from the attention but it’s all in vain. All for show. She couldn’t deny him now even if she wanted to.

“Darling, don’t lie. You’re just as impatient as I am,” His voice is deep, sitting in the back of his throat. She inhales sharply, watching him lower himself to press his nose into the hollow of her neck. His cock settles over her heat, separated by two layers of fabric, and before she can grind into it his hands are on her hips, forcing them still.

“God…” She whispers, the steady throb against her aching bud making her jaw go slack. He laps at the skin of her neck, making her legs twitch, before his sharp upper canines sink in. If she’d been delirious before… she’s absolutely lost now.

She cries out, heart pounding as he slowly drags his heavy length over her soaked underwear. His loincloth is covering the image from sight as she angels her jaw down, delighting in every bite he peppers over her neck and shoulder. She drags her fingers over his horns and he groans, hips stuttering, the sound needy and desperate. She continues caressing as his tail flicks in the air, pleased and tenderly mouthing at the aching wounds he’s left on her. They sting, but there’s something new in the mix- churning around her gut and making her mouth spill constant sighs and pants as her vision goes hazy and pink.

“W-what do I call you?” She asks, taking in his messy curls and kiss-swollen mouth. Blood stains his lips and a curl of want pulses south at the sight, wanting him to push her panties to the side and rub directly against her, the pressure so distracting she almost rolls her hips automatically, chasing the feeling of him.

He cocks a brow, inhaling deeply before a delicate smile crosses his face. His tail winds around her leg and she laughs in spite of herself, enjoying the way the tip rubs soft circles into the inside of her thigh.

“Astarion,” He murmurs, and she lowers her hands from his horns, eyes darting to his groin.

“Astarion…” She rolls his name around on her tongue, the subtle shiver that shifts through him not going unnoticed. “Mine’s Ofelia,” She mumbles and he strokes her cheek.

“Ofelia,” She preens at how he says it, a flush spreading over her cheeks in response. Her fingers push into the cloth at his hips, a silent question hanging in the air as she gently tugs on it. He nods and she fiddles with the clasp at the side of his hip before it falls and flutters away, leaving him exposed.

She isn’t sure if it’s the side effects of the spell or simply her own desire, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of him.

“Oh.” Is all she says, like an idiot. Her eyes admire the girth- thick veins spreading over the shaft. He’s nearly purple at the tip, leaking onto her underwear, and she shifts restlessly at the sight as her mouth floods with saliva and her clit aches as he nudges against it.

“I see I’m going to have to do all the sweet-talking, pet.” She shudders as his hands brush along her trembling stomach muscles, down to her thighs, before guiding her underwear down and off. They run back up the length of her torso, softly squeezing and kneading at the soft flesh of her breasts as his lips catch on one of her nipples. She whimpers at the sensations building inside, chasing his touches with her fingers, craving more contact with an almost crazed fervor. She’s still hypnotized by the length of him as he gently rubs his cock between her puffy folds and she swallows, strangled moans caught in her throat. The hard ridge along his tip drags over her swollen clit and in addition to the lightning bolt of pleasure that coaxes more juices to spill from her, the urge to taste him is so intense that it feels like it’s written on her bones.

“I… I want you here.” She mumbles, fingers tracing her face, and he laughs.

“You want to see… if you can take me… in your pretty mouth…?” He whispers, thumb brushing over her lower lip. She nods desperately, parting them to suck him in as her body trembles in anticipation. His jaw tightens as he watches, her tongue swirling around his warm skin, fierce with desire. She hums when his cock twitches, softly bumping her stomach when he moves as a quiet sound vibrates in his chest. He watches her a moment more, eyes burning, before he shifts to the side and drags her off the bed, onto the floor.

She sits obediently on her knees, closing her eyes as his fingers thread into her hair. His touch is soft, and her face warms as she realizes what he’s doing, but embarrassment has long since receded into the recesses of her mind. He gathers the strands at the back of her head before tugging gently- just the way she likes. She sighs, opening her eyes to shamelessly stare at him, yearning to lick the pearl of glistening pre-cum off his flushed tip. She flicks her eyes up to his and the desire she sees there lights a fire in her belly that spurs her forward, hands resting over his hips as she sets her sights and dives in.

Astarion hisses when she kisses the base of him, bathing him in her attention and affectionate nips. Her thighs shiver as she continues her trail of teasing, his grip on her scalp growing tighter. She flashes him a soft smile before kissing down the weighty length of him, lips parting when she pulls away to watch him leak a silvery strand down to her breasts. She swallows a breathy whine before eagerly lapping it up, her ears ringing from the sharp inhale and throaty groan he gives her when she finally sucks the tip inside.

He fills her entire mouth before she can draw him in further and her cunt clenches with jealousy imagining him pushing inside, on her back, a bruising grip on her hips… Her fantasies play behind her closed lids as she hollows her cheeks and relaxes her jaw to swallow more, moaning lightly as he nudges the back of her throat.

Tears form in her eyes as she blinks up at him, her hips restless as he tugs on her hair and pulls out of her mouth before slowly thrusting inside. The fingers of her free hand trail down her body, pinching at the pebbled flesh on her breasts before dipping lower to alleviate some of the tension winding around her belly. She spreads the slick gathering at her entrance, circling her aching clit, and her eyes squint shut, sobbing at the spark of pleasure that flashes up her body, his cock twitching in her mouth.

“Hells…” He whispers, her mind slowly melting the longer he fucks her mouth. Her entire body aches for him, for this pleasure- she squirms and whimpers, letting him set the pace as she rocks against her hand. He’s considerate of her adjustment period until a glimmering sweat breaks out on his chest and her eyes track a drop as it follows the curve of his pelvic bone. When it meets his shaft a switch flips and she abandons all rational thought for the need to please.

She struggles to take him fully, but every time he needly ruts into her and her lips meet his hips he grunts- a gravelly, greedy thing that stokes the heat in her belly until she’s whimpering and shivering for more. He’s making a mess out of her, and she increases the pace, removing her hand from its previous position to pull his hips in each time they snap forward hungrily. He smears spit and slick over her chin each time he slips out until it's dripping over her breasts and fingers, her thumbs swirl the fluid over the stiff peaks of her nipples as waves of pleasure rumble through her- just as strong as it had been in the shower, perhaps even more.

They lock eyes as he angles her chin to take more of him, electricity shooting through her as her tongue swirls around before lingering on the sensitive underside of his head. He yanks her hair and hisses, in one fluid motion pistoning inside and she moans on his cock. Her mind is blissfully blank as he pins her against the side of the bed, reveling in the way he twitches and cups her cheek as he drives in and out, in and out at a languid pace. The blunt head of his cock kisses the back of her throat again, his stomach muscles tightening, and her fingers brush over the seam of his balls until his hips stutter and a raspy moan pours from his mouth. She holds his gaze, taking him impossibly deeper, and she whines in disapproval when he slips out with a lewd pop.

“Can’t have you driving the whole time, darling,” He murmurs, and she gasps when he leans down to meld their lips together in a bruising kiss. The enthusiasm behind his touches makes her hum happily and he places a hand over her throat before squeezing and forcing her to stand. His tight grip makes her dizzy and she sways on her feet, mind blank, as he chuckles and presses them tightly together.

“Like that, do you?” He murmurs in her ear and she nods, wrapping her arms around his waist as his sharp canines brush against her skin.

“Do you… drink the blood?” She whispers, brief flashes of curiosity drifting through her lust-clouded mind.

“Hmm?” She draws back so their lips brush, the striking scarlet of his eyes inquisitive and rapt.

“You had blood on your lips earlier, when you bit me…” She whispers, watching his face shift in recognition.

“Ahh… that.” He grins, a fang peeking out from under his top lip and it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. “It’s common for us to partake- the magic in your blood increases your sense of touch and your blood in turn does for us as well. It’s why you needed to sacrifice it for the spell.” His smile twists into something sinful, her legs pressing together. “Somehow, I hardly need the encouragement...” He whispers as his hands softly squeeze her ass. She smiles in reply, eyes lingering on his teeth and she hesitantly presses a kiss to his jaw. More follow, light and sweet as his grip fluctuates from gentle to rough when her lips brush over his neck.

“Can I…?” She asks and he nods at her testing teeth before she sinks her own into his skin. He sighs into her ear, his hands caressing her back as his sharp nails lightly scratch over her skin. She whimpers into the marks she leaves him with, nipping up to his earlobe before teasing the skin between her teeth. He stills and groans, grinding his stiff length against her hip and she licks up to the pointed tip before sucking it lightly into her mouth.

“Ofelia…” Her name rumbling in his chest makes her dizzy and she moves her left hand up to tickle the other ear until he’s driving them forward. The back of her knees connect with the mattress and she yelps, falling flat on her back as he stands between her parted thighs. His eyes are dark- the red eclipsed by his blown wide pupils, and her body shivers in fear. She feels hunted, prey beneath a ravenous lion, and the feeling twists her insides as he drops to a crouch and lifts her legs until they’re resting over his shoulders. She almost moans at the sight…

“I can’t leave until you’re satisfied…” He murmurs, nipping at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. His fangs graze the skin before he sinks them in and that rosy haze covers her vision again, her mind numb to the rest of the world as she focuses on what his mouth is doing. He’d been right about whatever’s in his saliva or bite as electricity tingles beneath her skin, every one of his touches sending sparks down the length of her body.

“God… I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of this.” She mumbles, forehead creasing in an effort to concentrate on him. He chuckles darkly, his burning gaze intertwined with hers and as she watches her blood drip from the corner of his lips her body twitches in response. It’s the most erotic thing she’s ever seen, almost hotter than when she’d peeled off the cloth, and she whines under his smug smile.

“Don’t go saying that now…” He whispers as he presses soft kisses up, closer to where she needs him most. “Or I’ll be tempted to show you which page the binding spell is on.” She gasps, not having time to process his words as his tongue darts out to swipe up the seam of her before languidly running back down. Her vision whites, a high-pitched cry tearing from her throat as he circles her clit. The fork in his tongue adds an extra sensation that makes fireworks explode behind her eyes, her hips lifting off the bed as he lightly flicks and dips it lower, embarrassing noises spilling from her lips as she drags her fingers through his hair.

When he circles her entrance, lapping at the slick that’s been dripping down her thighs, she throws her head back and begs, pleading on deaf ears for him to plunge in, his nose pressing into the aching swell of her and it’s just the right amount of pressure-

“Fuck!” She sobs, back arching off the bed as his long fingers push inside in place of his tongue. He licks softly at her clit, pushing the hood back gently and when he sucks she nearly blacks out. His fingers are thick, so warm… he starts with two, working her open, curling in until he nudges the place inside she’s lucky to reach on a good day. It makes her entire body convulse as she clamps her thighs around him, fingers twisting in the sheets as his name tumbles from her lips over and over again like a prayer.

“Another, sweet girl?” The lilt to his voice is so innocent, but the words are pure sin and a shiver runs from the base of her skull to the tip of her spine in response, her babbling incoherent. Instead, she nods, trying to keep her eyes open, focusing on the little vent on her ceiling, anything- god he’s too good…

When he adds another digit she almost comes undone, but he shushes her with a kiss on the inside of her thigh, halting his movements. She’s allowed a few seconds to breathe, gasping for air, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. His hair is falling from its perfect swoop atop his head, dusting his eyes. He’s so handsome she almost can’t believe this is real, so focused on how hot he looks eating her out that she doesn’t see his arm coiling before he sets the pace again.

Her eyes fly shut and her head falls back, wanton cries filling the air- so loud she’s certain there will be a noise complaint in her mailbox in the morning.

His thumb strokes over her swollen nub as he pushes inside and she’s gone.

Her ankles lock around his head, pulling him deeper as she comes on his tongue and his name leaves her lips over and over, chest heaving as tears pool and spill out of the corners of her eyes. Her hips leave the mattress, her mind unaware how, hands anchored to his horns to keep him there all while his tongue massages her inner walls and draws her pleasure out with every stroke. It’s never been like this- completely blank, delirious, incoherent. It feels like someone’s holding her over a flame and she’s burning, burning, stroking her fingers over the ridges of his horns as he shivers and runs his tongue up over her sensitive clit, making her wail at the overstimulation. Her hips finally meet the mattress again as she dissolves over the messy blanket, realizing his nails had pressed stinging cuts to her buttocks as he’d dragged her over the edge.

“Satisfied?” He whispers, his face hovering over hers. She hadn’t noticed he’d shifted and her hands had fallen, her stare empty and tracking dust motes floating through the beams of moonlight. She focuses on his pretty lips, glistening from his previous ministrations, and she reaches up to pull him into a deep kiss as he stumbles and falls over her, his chuckle stroking some deeply seated, violent thing inside her. He tastes like her, the two of them mixed and she’s tingling from head to toe, so consumed by touching every part of him as her hands explore and roam. They find his neglected length and she softly strokes him with one as the other rests over the nape of his neck to continue sliding their lips together.

“Not yet…” She finally answers him after pulling away to gasp for air, voice ragged. She smiles sweetly, lashes dipped low, wanting him closer. Something about him just burrows inside, familiar and calming. She hadn’t noticed it before, too buried beneath the overpowering magic thrumming through her veins. She’s glad that he’s the one that showed up.

She nuzzles her nose into his hair, the faintest hint of brimstone and ash dusting his white locks. He stutters out a low, breathy moan as she continues to slowly stroke him and in her trance she pulls back to bare her throat for him. She quickens her pace as his teeth sink in once more, drawing filthy moans from her lips as heat coils in her belly. It’s addicting, the pain and pleasure of his sharp teeth. She offers up more of herself to him and her hips snap up into his when his mouth closes around one nipple to puncture the sensitive skin before greedily suckling on it.

“Nnng… ‘starion…” She mumbles, a strangled cry leaving her lips as she spreads the pre-cum weeping from his cock down his shaft, his mouth going rough as he groans in reply. “Need you…” She murmurs and he sucks harder before leaving bleeding crescents over her other breast.

“You taste so good…” He whispers, the soft snap of his fingers wrenching her hands from her control as they come up, above her head, wrists glowing as if he’s holding them himself. The loss of control is staggering, but as he rises, eyes glowing, blood coating his lips, she feels a fierce craving spread low in her body before she’s aching for him and his tongue and fingers won’t suffice this time. She wants the real thing.

“Please…” She whines, straining against her invisible bonds as he presses himself against her slit to coat himself in the wetness there. Slippery, obscene sounds fill the room and the way he slides and catches on her entrance before gliding over her throbbing clit coax her heart to pound harder, a shock sparking between her legs at his low lurching moan.

“Please-!” She repeats, thrashing as he continues, every touch and throb of his cock pure torture. His claws dig into her hips, her mouth spilling every curse and prayer she knows as he prods at her entrance.

“My turn,” He growls, stilling her rocking hips. Her eyes slam closed as she shudders around him, the pain a dull echo as he gradually sinks into her waiting heat. He almost doesn’t fit, eyes latched onto the place he’s desperately trying to defile, and she watches him tremble under the effort of restraint when he finally slips inside. He draws a muffled wail from her as he pushes past her entrance, an iron grip holding her in place as she twists her arms above her, panting and clenching around him as she adjusts to the stretch. She finally relaxes as his hands caress her shivering thighs, letting him gently soothe her tense muscles so he can fully sheath within her.

The feeling of fullness is like nothing else- he occupies every inch as his hips finally meet hers and her breath rushes out of her as if he’s taking up every spare bit of room inside her body. He waits, lower lip anchored beneath twin fangs, and she holds him in her blurring gaze. She can’t breathe, chest tight, the soft sounds building in her chest climbing into a litany of pleading and praise.

“So… much… please move,” She gasps as he reaches up to grab her hands and the bonds vanish, guiding them down to the mattress on either side of her head as their fingers intertwine. He’s close, so close she can see every detail on his face, can see the way his brow tenses and sweat gathers over the creasing flesh. Her thighs press against her chest as he folds her legs back, ankles dangling over his shoulders, and she screws her eyes shut as he dips impossibly deeper inside. The whine that slips out of her gritted teeth as he slowly drags out is nothing compared to the sharp, wailing cry when he pistons back into her. It dwarfs any sound she’s ever made; despite the circumstances, her cheeks burn in reply.

“Astarion!” She sobs, holding on to him for dear life. He sets a slow pace at first and she cries with each movement, repeating his name and twisting her head from side to side. He abandons his restraining grip on one of her hands to press one to her throat, stilling her writhing, lips pulled into a fangy grin.

“Eyes on me, pet.” He whispers. She gasps, clenching at the sound of his voice and the tight clutch over her neck. “I’m going to fill you… over… and over… and over…” Her eyes fly shut and she arches into him, mind fogging as he continues to thrust with rough, slow snaps of his hips. “Hells… barely been inside you for a minute… and you’re already brainless.”

“Fuck you,” She gasps when his hand disappears from her neck, a finger pad pressing to her clit to rub soft circles against it.

“That’s the idea,” He chuckles, dropping his lips to kiss her, scattering them over her jaw, neck, and chest. His hot tongue swirls over one nipple, then the other, the pressure building in her lower stomach faster than the first time. Whatever magic flows through her veins, it’s causing her vision to blur, her chest to feel light and her heart to crash against her ribs. Every drag of his cock steals her breath, every whispered word makes her impossibly wetter- afraid to look at the mess in the morning. He squeezes her breasts and her eyes flutter closed, the sensation of stroking on her bundle of nerves making her jump-

“Is that…?” She doesn’t finish, watching his tail flick in the air with a smirk before he descends on her again. “I… I don’t know how much longer-”

“Let go,” He interrupts, tongue flicking over the peaks of her breasts before he locks their gazes once more. She whines, lost in the tide of his thrusts and the way he feels inside her. He so big… so full… she can’t help the way she squeezes and pulls him in each time he pounds back inside, drawing guttural growls from his throat as obscenely wet sounds fill the room. “You’re so good, Ofelia…” He murmurs, fingernails digging into the plump flesh of her thighs as his voice pulls the coil tighter. “Creaming all over my cock.” She bites her lip, his tail rubbing and stroking and pushing her closer and closer and-

“Astarion!” She sobs, every thread unraveling and burning out. There’s an entire night sky sprawled out before her closed eyelids as he fucks her through her climax, every sound he makes sending shockwaves through her after the initial crest and fall. When she finally looks at him, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are nearly black, his cock twitching inside her.

“So… tight…” He mumbles, hands resting over her hips as his thrusts become more erratic. He’s pulsing, growing hotter, filling her more until she feels like she’s going to shatter around him, dragging against the spot inside her that leaves her breathless and panting for more and she’s afraid it’ll never be enough. He rests a hand over the bulge in her stomach, over the shape of him, and the pressure makes her gush around his twitching cock.

“Please…” She whimpers, vision hazy around the edges. She isn’t sure what she’s begging for, but he seems to understand. He presses a kiss to her lips as her pounding heart fills the silent air, hands coming up to scratch at his back and cry his name, his cock pulsing and-

Hot and powerful, he spills inside her with a strangled cry. She's almost afraid he'll never stop, filling her until she’s sure she can't hold anymore. Watching his face twist in pleasure as his hips still, gripping her waist to the point she’ll see marks in the morning, she whimpers and pulls him in for another bruising kiss. He plunges into her mouth like a starving man and she greedily matches his fervor, stroking his sides, pressing her palms against his chest, and running her fingers through his hair.

Her belly feels warm, full of his come, and his gaze darkens as he strokes the swell of flesh below her navel before flicking back up to her face. Trailing wisps of coherent thought dissolve into the recesses of her brain as his softening length begins to stiffen again, a soft growl slipping out of his mouth as his body jerks forward and he slides easily back inside. She chokes on a sound, the feeling lighting her up all over again as she struggles to accommodate him at full strength. She turns to look at the clock, registering the digital numbers turning to three am- they’d been at it for almost two hours.

“When you say you won’t leave until I’m satisfied… is that something you’ll just know? Or do I have to tell you?” He looks at her as he gently rolls his hips and her breath hitches as his tip brushes against her cervix.

“The tattoo on your neck will break,” He explains through his teeth, hands running over her body to gently squeeze her breasts and she moans softly as he rolls into her again.

“Is it still there?” She mumbles, wishing she could see into the mirror, but it’s behind him. He nods, dropping to his elbows to mouth at it, presumably. She floods his ears with delicate sighs, fingers splaying over his ribs as she traces his sides, eyes fluttering shut at the beautiful way his mouth moves-

“Ahh!” She yelps when he yanks her up off the mattress and pulls her into his arms, carried in the air. Her legs wind around him on instinct, clinging to his shoulders to not fall as he carries her into the living room. As she glances around the space, for some strange reason she feels off- almost as if a spell has been broken. Here he is, in another room of her apartment, and the strangeness she feels is entirely ridiculous. But he’s real, he’s real and standing in front of her tiny kitchen bar, eyes boring into her own, mischievous smile painted over his face. She traces his lips with her forefinger, smirk reflecting his, and he’s draping her over the counter to have her again.

She loses count of how many times he does- in the kitchen, over the couch, against the door. He shows no signs of tiring, cock hard and always pumping her full. She can’t remember a moment where she isn’t tumbling over the edge, thoughts useless, head empty as his red eyes sparkle in the dark, intent on burrowing into her chest.

There’s a brief period where she’s under the stream from the shower, unsure how she got there and still cradled in his arms. Her mind is weak like trailing threads, too distracted by the almost numbing tingles spreading through her body as she smiles at him. He’s still fully sheathed inside her- she’s almost certain he hasn't pulled out since they left the bedroom- and his impossibly strong arms rest below the swell of her ass as he presses her against the shower wall and kisses her, water mixing on their tongues.

“Is the mark still there?” She whispers, vaguely curious as the hot water flushes her body a light pink. He pulls away, eyes hazy and clouded over with pleasure, before lifting her hips and pulling her back down onto his cock.

“Still… there…” He huffs, brows drawn down in concentration. “I may not be able to keep up, soon.” She giggles, holding tight as he finishes their shower and brings her back to bed. Why he’d even bothered trying to clean them up, she isn’t sure.

On her hands and knees she takes him, and when her arms begin to tire she lies on her stomach, cheek against the mattress while his hands hold her hips up and he groans and fills her again. She shivers as his feverish hands stroke over her thighs, down her back, and to her scalp, caressing her hair softly. Her eyes flutter shut as he rocks them back and forth, the tenderness of his actions making her stutter out a long, breathless sigh.

Hazily she registers him lying her on her side, still joined, strong grip on the back of her knee as he lightly draws another orgasm out of her, fingers deftly working at her clit until she comes with a broken sob and milks him for what she considers the rest of what he’s got. As he pants into her ear the horizon turns a faint purple beyond her window and she collapses against his chest, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw.

While they catch their breath, she feels her skin chill and an almost imperceptible pressure vanish from around her neck. Her fingers come up to touch her throat, groaning at the exhaustion weighing her limbs down and the sudden ache spreading over every muscle. He strokes her stomach, peering down at her, and she can see that the band is gone through her reflection in his eyes, her arms and legs finally clear of it.

“Oh no, it’s over?” She mumbles listlessly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyelids as she starts to come back to herself. A light chuckle from beside her draws her out of the odd feelings of disappointment and longing as she gazes up at him, early morning sun passing through his hair to turn it bright and golden. He looks more like an angel than any devil she’s ever pictured.

“You’re satisfied,” He smiles, faint and soft. It makes her heart twist uncomfortably as he reaches down and finally slips out of her. A flush burns her cheeks at the slickness that drips down and pools between her legs over the sheets.

“Hmm,” She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting to the ceiling and leveling a hateful glare over the vent that she’d previously latched on to when she needed to ground herself. “Doesn’t feel like it.” He covers her vision, looking pleased with himself, and she feels a pang of sadness knowing he’ll have to leave.

“My contract’s fulfilled, Ofelia.” She nods, patting his arm, and when he moves from behind her to stand in her bedroom, gloriously naked and back to her, she admires him like he’s a distant statue up high on a pedestal. Out of reach.

“Umm… do I say ‘It’s been fun!’ or ‘Thank you!’?” She asks, wincing as he turns to look at her over his shoulder. His amused smile makes her feel less awkward, and she jolts in surprise when he stoops down to press a kiss to her lips.

“It’s been fun, thank you,” He grins, all sharp teeth and cocky glint in his eyes. She stares, then smiles softly as he rises to his full height, and those elusive wings that had vanished before stretch out behind him to cover the length of her room. The next time she blinks, he’s gone, and she looks around the room in alarm before stilling.

It’s silent as death.

She lies back, staring back up at that vent, every part of her arching and sore, far too stiff to think about moving let alone changing her sheets. She closes her eyes, fierce loneliness prodding at her chest.

***

“Earth plane’s portal is ringing again,” The droning voice of Raphael calls out over the tops of the rows of desks, his tone growing more tired by the hour. No one answers, scrolls and papers flying about as the demons sitting behind their quills carry on cataloging and documenting contracts and summons.

“Did you not hear me?” Raphael sounds more on edge and Astarion flicks his tail in amusement, glancing across the desk at his chattiest coworker.

“Think Haarlep’s still booked?” Karlach grins, jotting something on her scroll before she flicks it behind her right shoulder and it hits a lowly imp in the head.

“Must be. Wonder if he’ll call me again,” Astarion sighs, idly flicking the quill pen in his hand around his fingers. He remembers his outing and smirks. He wouldn’t mind if it were her again. If only he could be so lucky.

“Astarion!”

“There it is- good luck, soldier,” Karlach whispers before grabbing her beverage to dart for the breakroom.

“Yes, sir?” Astarion sagely dips his head in a formal bow as he watches Raphael massage his temples.

“Please cover for Haarlep again,”

“Of course, sir.” Filling in for an incubus isn’t the job he’d thought he’d be doing while slaving away for an archdevil, but its excellent overtime and exceptional pay convince him fill out the request sheet every once in a while. When he steps through the portal he’s met with familiar darkened windows and the scent of vanilla, votives burning on every shelf and surface.

“Hope you weren’t busy?” He turns to see her standing in the middle of her little summoning circle, far too overdressed for his tastes, and smile bright and shining in the dim room.

“Ofelia,” He smirks, catching the spellbook when she tosses it at him.

“It’s already bookmarked, at least…” She walks closer, brown eyes flashing playfully as her long dark hair falls over her shoulder. “That’s if I read the fine print correctly.” He glances at the page, hellish heart flaring with warmth at the infernal word for binding. He grins.

“Cheeky pup,”

Pairing: Astarion/f!Tav ~ Astarion/f!OC (Ofelia) Word Count: 9,709 Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Does this Count as Monster Smut?, Oral, PIV Sex, Fingering, Masturbation, Stomach Bulge, Blood Drinking, Very Minor Dubcon (if you squint), Choking Summary: A gifted grimoire from her friends spells trouble when Ofelia accidentally summons an incubus. ~ An Incubus Astarion AU lovingly written and inspired by this artwork by @poofroom featuring my Tav and longfic main character, Ofelia!

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AO3 | Song Reference: Christian Woman by Type O Negative

I'm hoping to complete at least 4 prompts this month, once a week, but my main fic is my upmost priority! Still, I'm really excited to share this one!! @khywren really inspired me with their recent AMAZING writings, please check out their Kinktober 2024 works so far! You won't be disappointed! 🖤

No forgiveness,

For her sins.

Prefers punishment.

Would you suffer eternally?

Or internally?

For her lust,

She’ll burn in hell.

Her soul done medium well.

***

“There, all done!” Ofelia says to herself, dropping the white chalk she’d used to draw the symbol from the spellbook. It’d been a silly present from one of her friends- a gag gift, really. Spirit of the season and all that. What else is she supposed to do on a Friday night after three pina coladas and zero luck?

All her prospects were dull, and all of them had made some kind of backhanded remark about her intelligence or appearance at some point during the conversation that her interest had waned instantly. She’d definitely been to better Halloween parties.

For her own amusement, she sits and holds a candle up, briefly reading over the pages. She’s got the first ingredient, flickering restlessly in her other hand, the food offering to her right (a popcorn ball), something to channel the energy (a crystal that came with the book), and currency of some kind (a few quarters from her laundry fund). The last requirement is her blood.

“Whatever,” She shrugs, setting the candle down on its point in the star before leaning over to grab the pocket knife she’d used to open the package. She’s still tipsy, and explaining away a bandaged hand tomorrow doesn’t seem like that big of an issue to her at the moment.

She carefully presses the blade's tip into the meat of her palm and drags in one clean slice, wincing and holding her hand over the point closest to her. Droplets dot the white chalk with red and she clenches her fingers, waiting until there’s a small puddle, before getting up to grab her first aid kit and wrap the wound. Once reseated, she examines the page, noting something looks off, but neglecting to read further into why the diagrams are different before reciting the words at the bottom of the page.

She holds her breath, eyes scanning the apartment, before settling back on the circle. And… nothing happens.

“Oh!” She gasps when the candle blows out, expecting some kind of grand entrance- maybe a ring of fire! Or a black pit, opening within the symbol! But nothing comes.

She pouts dejectedly and gathers the items up before chucking them all into a box. She glares at the book, clasped between her fingers, and sighs. If anything, she’d hoped for a little excitement from this tonight- but magic isn’t real, and despite her alcohol-addled mind, she was a fool to think she could conjure it.

She gets up and opens her top dresser drawer, tossing the book in without a second thought as she checks the time on her phone- almost one. She walks into the living space, which is technically still part of her bedroom and separated only by a meager curtain. Her TV is off and silent against the wall, and she pulls her hoodie off to toss over the back of her couch.

The cool air flows in from her window AC and blesses the exposed skin around her costume- she’d gone as a devil, the strapless red bodysuit and pink tights still clinging to her. She pulls the headache-inducing horned headband off and sets it next to her sweater, turning and scanning the room for her prize. She smiles when she sees it, fetching the half-empty bottle of Malibu from the counter before downing it until her fingers numb and a delightful buzz thrums in her head. The night had been long, and an untold amount of sticky fluids had gotten on her legs, arms, and torso during the party so a shower before turning in feels like the perfect idea.

She goes into the bedroom to tug the bodice of the costume down until her breasts are free, breathing a sigh of relief when the constricting fabric is finally off. Her tights follow after, leaving her in nothing but her underwear as she moves towards her dresser. Her eyes linger on the book when she opens the drawer to pull out a night dress and she almost closes it before cocking a brow. Her hand hovers over her favorite slip as her eyes fall onto the page she’d been referencing when she drew the circle, but she swears it had been closed when she’d thrown it inside. The scrawl below it almost looks handwritten, not printed, but when Ofelia tries to read it, goosebumps gradually spread over her arms and legs and she scoffs at the words she can decipher.

“What the hell does ‘mind-altering satisfaction’ mean?” She mutters as she closes the book and grabs her dress before shoving the drawer closed again.

She starts the shower before discarding the remaining scrap of cloth into her hamper, leaning against her sink to wipe her makeup off. Tossing the cotton pads into the trash, she jumps under the hot stream, a low hum leaving her lips. It feels amazing as it rushes over her skin and douses her hair. She runs her hands up over her body, jumping when she caresses the sides of her breasts. They’re extra sensitive, and in her tingling, buzzing mind she feels her stomach tighten in response.

She shrugs. No one had been worthy to take home anyway. Might as well make the most of the night.

Her fingers ghost over her nipples and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip in an effort to stifle the sound that nearly tears out of her throat. Stars dance behind her eyes and she laughs incredulously, wiping the hair plastered to her cheeks away. It’d never felt this intense, and curiosity coaxes her hands lower as she carefully slips a finger between her legs.

“God!” She hisses, catching herself before she falls onto the tiled floor. Her vision nearly whites under the slightest glance against her clit and she heaves for breath, both palms pressing against the wall. She’d only drank her usual cocktails, and had been watching her drink like a hawk all night, so being exposed to something slipped into her glass at the party is out of the question. She shakes her head, cursing as her clit begins to throb steadily against the water streaming down the front of her body. She suppresses another groan, clenching her thighs together as she rinses out the remaining suds from her hair.

The need humming through her veins is almost blinding, and with shaking hands she pushes her hair back before leaning against the wall. She won’t fall this time… won’t fall…

She cries out as she runs her middle finger along her slit, teeth sinking into the soft skin of her forearm. Her entire body shakes from the pleasure of it, so intense that it weakens her knees and she almost buckles to the floor again. She bites harder to center herself, afraid of the bruise that will surely stand out in the morning, but she’ll manage.

She dips between her folds, the slick beneath so copious she can feel it through the stream from the showerhead. She moans and cautiously presses a finger inside, slowly, but no matter how careful she could have been, it doesn’t stop the sharp coil in her gut and the shockwave of ecstasy that flashes from the roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes.

She mewls like an untouched virgin, mind hazy with want. This… this is unlike anything she’s ever felt- not like she’s had much experience in that department- but every nerve feels like it’s on fire. The shower turns to ice and she has to step out, body quivering and skin clammy despite the temperature of the water.

She grabs the towel, whining as the fabric rubs against the sensitive flesh on her breasts before slipping her nightgown over her head. The thin black satin and lace clings to her and she stares at the mess in the mirror as she dries her hair, eyes catching on the stiff peaks on her chest straining against the fabric. They trail up over her arms and her shoulders before stopping and freezing.

“What the hell…?” She whispers, dropping the towel to press up against the sink again, trying to ignore the little shivers of pleasure when her nipples rub against the chilled granite. Her fingers seek the strange marks that circle her neck almost like a tattoo, the dashes and squiggles familiar, almost…

There’s no way. There’s no way.

Ofelia doesn’t stop to pick her towel up off the floor, sweat making her damp hair stick to her face and neck as it breaks out over her entire body. She opens the drawer once more to the book open, not closed as she’d left it. She swears and pulls it out, setting it on top as she looks at the scrawl over the page opposite to the sigil. It’s indecipherable, in some kind of language or symbols she can’t read, but it matches the marks on her skin perfectly. Whatever they are, they’re definitely a result of the ritual, and Ofelia sinks into a sitting position on her mattress as regret fills her mind.

I shouldn’t have done that. God, I’m so stupid. Mama warned me never to mess with this stuff. Ofelia chews on her cuticles, nervous energy humming alongside the desire burning in her body. Every sense of hers is attuned to the way the slip touches her skin, how her clit throbs for attention, how she clenches around nothing, aching to fill the void.

It isn’t natural, and that fact scares her more than she’d like to admit. She pushes the craving to touch out of her mind, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear before crawling beneath her duvet. It’s hot, so hot… her skin feels like lava- her heart beat skyrocketing. Maybe she’s going to die?

“Oh god, I’m so stupid. So stupid!” She sobs, shoving her face into the pillow as she lays on her stomach. The pressure makes her roll her hips before she can stop herself and she whimpers, biting the silk pillowcase to redirect her frustration. Maybe she should give in and see if that’ll end this torment, but the unease of the situation needles at her mind... She rolls over and tugs the blanket around her chin, twisting her hips and drumming her fingers over her stomach. The length of the day settles over her shoulders and it weighs her down despite the sweat on her skin and the ache between her legs. She tries not to picture the relief she’d feel if her legs were spread instead, slip tugged over her chest, underwear discarded. She groans and shuts her eyes, somehow drifting off to sleep.

She dreams in scattered images, flashing across her vision like a picture show. Hot, begging, on her knees. A man with strong hands and sharp teeth touches her heated skin, peels her dress off, mouths at her breasts… her haggard breathing is audible in the room, echoing off the walls, her hips rolling into his touch, her mouth closing around-

Her eyes fly open, the curtains in front of her window fluttering in the breeze as the clock registers that it’s only one thirty. It takes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and she vaguely recalls not leaving it open… The covers fall off her chest when she sits up, soft moonlight pouring in to paint her body a cool blue. The slip rides up her hips, breasts spilling out the sides, and something moves out of the corner of her vision that sparks gooseflesh to spread over her bare thighs and arms.

The curtain flutters away, revealing the silhouette of a man. Except it isn’t a man… As the light illuminates the hard cut of his torso, bat-like wings stretch and unfurl on either side of him, wicked horns curling up and over his silver hair. Red irises glow in the night, trained on her face, a tail swishing behind him. She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move- her heart pounds, but her body reacts in a way she hadn’t expected. Her skin breaks out in the same feverish sweat that she’d felt before crawling into bed, her stomach aching and her breathing coming in short pants. She chances a glance in the full length mirror across the room, her cheeks flushing red at the uselessness of her night dress. The marks that had started at her neck circle her wrists and close around her thighs like bands.

“Am I dreaming?” She asks softly, unable to resist the pull she feels towards him. He takes a step and she tenses, eyes admiring his broad shoulders, ornamental silver bracers covering each forearm. Most of his body is bare, save for the thin piece of satiny fabric and gilded chains covering his hips. Her eyes trace the trail of hair that disappears beneath, down until her breath chokes out of her. Her thighs press together at the hard outline beneath the loincloth, her imagination filling in the gaps- thick, straining, throbbing. Her mouth floods with saliva and she swallows thickly as the steady pulse from earlier begs for attention, shame dissolving as his crimson gaze flows down over her exposed breasts. The sudden urge to touch him fills her mind until it’s all she can think about, even as he opens his mouth to expose sharp canines.

“I’m afraid not.” His voice, smooth and velvety, covers her body like honey. She shivers as he takes another step, so close now that she can see the sharp tips of his ears beneath his hair. His lips curl into a fiendish grin and she shakes her head, wanting him closer, god, she can’t take the distance anymore. Some fire’s possessing her and she feels herself clench again, the sudden instinct to grind against the mattress and relieve the tension leaving her dazed. Her mind roars, wanting more than anything she’s ever wanted before to have him touch her. It drowns rational thoughts, save for a single line of curiosity.

“What are you?” She can’t help but ask, though her eyes can’t be deceiving her. He appraises her with a considering gleam, his wings folding back and out of the way. The horns have to be enough- the devilish tail. His soft laugh covers her body in a fresh wave of heat and she closes her eyes.

“You summoned me, shouldn’t you know?” She opens her eyes and he’s hovering right across from her at the end of the bed. Eye level with his stomach, she bites back the whimper of need that tries to push past her clenched teeth at the sight of him, his little strip of fabric doing nothing but veiling the color of his skin. She feels a gush of wetness between her legs as she clenches and strains to stay still, huffing her breath out.

“Didn’t think it would work. Are you the one that’s doing this to me?” She mutters, too late to cover her breasts but she does it anyway- anything to remain in the illusion of control. The sharp tick of his smile tells her he isn’t buying it, and she widens her eyes in surprise when his wings disappear. He drops his knees onto the mattress and she yelps when it dips.

Fuck… he’s real.

“What did you think would happen when you opened a black grimoire and chose a spell? That an imp would pop up and throw money at you?” She bites her lip, watching his long black fingernails clench the duvet and pull it farther down the bed.

“Well…” His eyes flash with annoyance.

“All you humans are the same- power, money, fame, wealth. Make a mistake? Wrong page?” She bristles at his sudden chiding, cursing her friends for giving her the damn thing. She’s going to throttle them tomorrow.

“So what? Can’t you just go back to where you came from?” She sucks in a breath when he draws closer, hands planting themselves on either side of her ankles. She watches him carefully, the way the light shines through the thin fabric of his loincloth to show her the heavy shadow of his cock beneath, and she bites the inside of her cheek when her clit throbs at the sight.

“I’m contracted, stupid mortal. Your blood has bound me to this plane. I can't just go back.” He sneers and she squirms as he crawls forward again, his head hovering over her hips. Her mind imagines filthy things with him so close, her body betraying her as her thighs untense and spread softly- barely a few inches- but it’s enough. She watches his gaze drop to the arms covering her chest, then lower, and she snaps her legs back together.

“Um… sorry. What contract? What does it entail?” He looks back up at her, lips pressed into a firm line of disappointment and she glares back.

“You didn’t read the fine print?”

“What fine fucking print? I can’t read half the words on those pages!” She cries out indignantly, not realizing her frustrated gesturing has left her chest exposed again. He surges forward quicker than she can react and with the sharp edges of his nails, he rips the straps off her dress, causing her breasts to fall free properly. She yelps, instinctively trying to cover up again but he snaps his fingers and the script on her wrists glows, making her palms flatten against the bed.

“I’ll let you guess the terms,” He murmurs, sitting back on his heels. She squirms, trying to free her arms, and when he snaps his fingers again she can lift them.

“What- what was that?” She whispers, fear clouding her voice. He smirks, his hands resting on his thighs, and gestures towards the dresser.

“Says it in the fine print.”

“Please?” She whimpers, hugging her torso tightly. She’s afraid- afraid of the patterns on her thighs, on her wrists, on her neck. She stares at them warily, the terror that had been muted by her lust now stretching into every part of her body. What’s going on? What is he? What’s going to happen to me?

“Tssk,” He settles back fully, legs crossing on her mattress. Her eyes move over his face again, catching on his pretty red eyes, his full lips. The slope of his nose is beautiful- strong and sharp. She traces his features, finding her heartbeat slowing slightly the longer she takes him in. His lips part, revealing those sharp fangs on both the top and bottom row of his teeth, and she idly wonders what they’d feel like on her neck, on her skin… “Darling… I can’t have you afraid of me. That’s not how this night is going to go.” His soft voice makes her shiver and she’s lulled by the sound of it. She raises her head slightly, gaze growing heavier the longer he stares at her.

“How this night is going to go…?” She echoes, slow, the end shaped like a question. His tail swishes back and forth before the spade tip caresses up her calf. With him finally touching her, she gasps, the softest glance magnified like it was earlier. She shudders, pressing her thighs more tightly together, shaking her head, but her body eventually wins out.

“The terms, dear…” He murmurs, leaning forward again. Her skin is feverish when his tail draws away and he crawls over her again. She shrinks back, lying against her pillows, his thighs caging her in as his hands settle on either side of her head.

“Uh…” She stammers, trying to get a coherent thought through. He’s so close she can see small flecks of gold in his eyes and the soft ridges on his horns. She finds herself wanting to caress them, the thought causing her cheeks to burn. “Terms… right. The spell is making me… making my body act like this?” She whispers cautiously and he nods, encouraging her to continue. “It made these… weird tattoos show up on my skin… and you can control them?” He nods again, eyes twinkling in amusement. Her nostrils flare in irritation, but she keeps going, realization finally dawning as she approaches the conclusion.

“I… this lust… oh my god…” He tuts, smirking with satisfaction.

“You finally understand?” The growl in his voice makes her eyes flutter shut. With the answer flaring brightly behind her lids, her body opens up in a way it hadn’t before. Her thighs spread until they’re pushing against his knees, her breath leaving her in a rush. She clenches around nothing, thinking about the shape of him under the loincloth and when her eyes snap open again he laughs, deep and sugared.

“You want my body?” She asks breathlessly, the slip hanging over her stomach becoming itchy and unbearable. His lashes fall halfway and when his forked tongue darts across his lower lip she whimpers in response.

“Usually you call an incubus because you need relief, but… your scent is maddening and I've barely even touched you…” He purrs, lips dropping down to her jaw. She moans at the slightest touch, her cunt clenching again followed by a rush of wetness dripping down her folds. Her underwear are long since ruined, and she slowly moves her hands up, hesitating over him.

“Can I… touch you?” She gasps, the last threads of restraint slowly snapping. He pulls away, hungry eyes raking over her face and neck and down to her breasts. She tugs her lower lip into her mouth, watching him nod, before caressing the planes of his chest.

His skin is so hot… a lovely shade of light rose. Her fingers ghost over his collarbones before pressing up, up, to the sides of his face. His crimson gaze flicks back up to meet hers and she teeters over the edge, debating, before he makes the decision for her and leans down to capture her lips.

Wet and messy, their tongues tangle and she whimpers into his mouth, hands carding through his hair. He tastes divine… or wicked, she isn’t sure which. His kiss is hot, lips soft and she moans against his tongue when his teeth catch on her lip to lightly nip at it. It’s all her favorite flavors at once and she can’t keep her hips on the bed, wanting to pull him in closer, wanting to feel the hard edge of his cock-

“Nnng!” She gasps when he nudges his shaft against her stomach, the weight of it making her dizzy. Her clit pulses and blood pounds through her, vocalizing the wave of desire in breathy pants against his mouth. He doesn’t stay quiet either- the sounds and groans he makes turning her insides to liquid as she rocks against him, hands clawing at his back. His anchor on her dress and a loud tear sounds through the room as he rips it free.

“Hey! That was my favorite!” She protests, but he’s sinking his knees between her thighs and tossing the scraps away, revealing her naked torso to him. The anger dies as she watches him draw back, and can almost feel the burning of his gaze over her body. She squirms again, clamping her legs around his, wanting to hide from the attention but it’s all in vain. All for show. She couldn’t deny him now even if she wanted to.

“Darling, don’t lie. You’re just as impatient as I am,” His voice is deep, sitting in the back of his throat. She inhales sharply, watching him lower himself to press his nose into the hollow of her neck. His cock settles over her heat, separated by two layers of fabric, and before she can grind into it his hands are on her hips, forcing them still.

“God…” She whispers, the steady throb against her aching bud making her jaw go slack. He laps at the skin of her neck, making her legs twitch, before his sharp upper canines sink in. If she’d been delirious before… she’s absolutely lost now.

She cries out, heart pounding as he slowly drags his heavy length over her soaked underwear. His loincloth is covering the image from sight as she angels her jaw down, delighting in every bite he peppers over her neck and shoulder. She drags her fingers over his horns and he groans, hips stuttering, the sound needy and desperate. She continues caressing as his tail flicks in the air, pleased and tenderly mouthing at the aching wounds he’s left on her. They sting, but there’s something new in the mix- churning around her gut and making her mouth spill constant sighs and pants as her vision goes hazy and pink.

“W-what do I call you?” She asks, taking in his messy curls and kiss-swollen mouth. Blood stains his lips and a curl of want pulses south at the sight, wanting him to push her panties to the side and rub directly against her, the pressure so distracting she almost rolls her hips automatically, chasing the feeling of him.

He cocks a brow, inhaling deeply before a delicate smile crosses his face. His tail winds around her leg and she laughs in spite of herself, enjoying the way the tip rubs soft circles into the inside of her thigh.

“Astarion,” He murmurs, and she lowers her hands from his horns, eyes darting to his groin.

“Astarion…” She rolls his name around on her tongue, the subtle shiver that shifts through him not going unnoticed. “Mine’s Ofelia,” She mumbles and he strokes her cheek.

“Ofelia,” She preens at how he says it, a flush spreading over her cheeks in response. Her fingers push into the cloth at his hips, a silent question hanging in the air as she gently tugs on it. He nods and she fiddles with the clasp at the side of his hip before it falls and flutters away, leaving him exposed.

She isn’t sure if it’s the side effects of the spell or simply her own desire, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of him.

“Oh.” Is all she says, like an idiot. Her eyes admire the girth- thick veins spreading over the shaft. He’s nearly purple at the tip, leaking onto her underwear, and she shifts restlessly at the sight as her mouth floods with saliva and her clit aches as he nudges against it.

“I see I’m going to have to do all the sweet-talking, pet.” She shudders as his hands brush along her trembling stomach muscles, down to her thighs, before guiding her underwear down and off. They run back up the length of her torso, softly squeezing and kneading at the soft flesh of her breasts as his lips catch on one of her nipples. She whimpers at the sensations building inside, chasing his touches with her fingers, craving more contact with an almost crazed fervor. She’s still hypnotized by the length of him as he gently rubs his cock between her puffy folds and she swallows, strangled moans caught in her throat. The hard ridge along his tip drags over her swollen clit and in addition to the lightning bolt of pleasure that coaxes more juices to spill from her, the urge to taste him is so intense that it feels like it’s written on her bones.

“I… I want you here.” She mumbles, fingers tracing her face, and he laughs.

“You want to see… if you can take me… in your pretty mouth…?” He whispers, thumb brushing over her lower lip. She nods desperately, parting them to suck him in as her body trembles in anticipation. His jaw tightens as he watches, her tongue swirling around his warm skin, fierce with desire. She hums when his cock twitches, softly bumping her stomach when he moves as a quiet sound vibrates in his chest. He watches her a moment more, eyes burning, before he shifts to the side and drags her off the bed, onto the floor.

She sits obediently on her knees, closing her eyes as his fingers thread into her hair. His touch is soft, and her face warms as she realizes what he’s doing, but embarrassment has long since receded into the recesses of her mind. He gathers the strands at the back of her head before tugging gently- just the way she likes. She sighs, opening her eyes to shamelessly stare at him, yearning to lick the pearl of glistening pre-cum off his flushed tip. She flicks her eyes up to his and the desire she sees there lights a fire in her belly that spurs her forward, hands resting over his hips as she sets her sights and dives in.

Astarion hisses when she kisses the base of him, bathing him in her attention and affectionate nips. Her thighs shiver as she continues her trail of teasing, his grip on her scalp growing tighter. She flashes him a soft smile before kissing down the weighty length of him, lips parting when she pulls away to watch him leak a silvery strand down to her breasts. She swallows a breathy whine before eagerly lapping it up, her ears ringing from the sharp inhale and throaty groan he gives her when she finally sucks the tip inside.

He fills her entire mouth before she can draw him in further and her cunt clenches with jealousy imagining him pushing inside, on her back, a bruising grip on her hips… Her fantasies play behind her closed lids as she hollows her cheeks and relaxes her jaw to swallow more, moaning lightly as he nudges the back of her throat.

Tears form in her eyes as she blinks up at him, her hips restless as he tugs on her hair and pulls out of her mouth before slowly thrusting inside. The fingers of her free hand trail down her body, pinching at the pebbled flesh on her breasts before dipping lower to alleviate some of the tension winding around her belly. She spreads the slick gathering at her entrance, circling her aching clit, and her eyes squint shut, sobbing at the spark of pleasure that flashes up her body, his cock twitching in her mouth.

“Hells…” He whispers, her mind slowly melting the longer he fucks her mouth. Her entire body aches for him, for this pleasure- she squirms and whimpers, letting him set the pace as she rocks against her hand. He’s considerate of her adjustment period until a glimmering sweat breaks out on his chest and her eyes track a drop as it follows the curve of his pelvic bone. When it meets his shaft a switch flips and she abandons all rational thought for the need to please.

She struggles to take him fully, but every time he needly ruts into her and her lips meet his hips he grunts- a gravelly, greedy thing that stokes the heat in her belly until she’s whimpering and shivering for more. He’s making a mess out of her, and she increases the pace, removing her hand from its previous position to pull his hips in each time they snap forward hungrily. He smears spit and slick over her chin each time he slips out until it's dripping over her breasts and fingers, her thumbs swirl the fluid over the stiff peaks of her nipples as waves of pleasure rumble through her- just as strong as it had been in the shower, perhaps even more.

They lock eyes as he angles her chin to take more of him, electricity shooting through her as her tongue swirls around before lingering on the sensitive underside of his head. He yanks her hair and hisses, in one fluid motion pistoning inside and she moans on his cock. Her mind is blissfully blank as he pins her against the side of the bed, reveling in the way he twitches and cups her cheek as he drives in and out, in and out at a languid pace. The blunt head of his cock kisses the back of her throat again, his stomach muscles tightening, and her fingers brush over the seam of his balls until his hips stutter and a raspy moan pours from his mouth. She holds his gaze, taking him impossibly deeper, and she whines in disapproval when he slips out with a lewd pop.

“Can’t have you driving the whole time, darling,” He murmurs, and she gasps when he leans down to meld their lips together in a bruising kiss. The enthusiasm behind his touches makes her hum happily and he places a hand over her throat before squeezing and forcing her to stand. His tight grip makes her dizzy and she sways on her feet, mind blank, as he chuckles and presses them tightly together.

“Like that, do you?” He murmurs in her ear and she nods, wrapping her arms around his waist as his sharp canines brush against her skin.

“Do you… drink the blood?” She whispers, brief flashes of curiosity drifting through her lust-clouded mind.

“Hmm?” She draws back so their lips brush, the striking scarlet of his eyes inquisitive and rapt.

“You had blood on your lips earlier, when you bit me…” She whispers, watching his face shift in recognition.

“Ahh… that.” He grins, a fang peeking out from under his top lip and it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. “It’s common for us to partake- the magic in your blood increases your sense of touch and your blood in turn does for us as well. It’s why you needed to sacrifice it for the spell.” His smile twists into something sinful, her legs pressing together. “Somehow, I hardly need the encouragement...” He whispers as his hands softly squeeze her ass. She smiles in reply, eyes lingering on his teeth and she hesitantly presses a kiss to his jaw. More follow, light and sweet as his grip fluctuates from gentle to rough when her lips brush over his neck.

“Can I…?” She asks and he nods at her testing teeth before she sinks her own into his skin. He sighs into her ear, his hands caressing her back as his sharp nails lightly scratch over her skin. She whimpers into the marks she leaves him with, nipping up to his earlobe before teasing the skin between her teeth. He stills and groans, grinding his stiff length against her hip and she licks up to the pointed tip before sucking it lightly into her mouth.

“Ofelia…” Her name rumbling in his chest makes her dizzy and she moves her left hand up to tickle the other ear until he’s driving them forward. The back of her knees connect with the mattress and she yelps, falling flat on her back as he stands between her parted thighs. His eyes are dark- the red eclipsed by his blown wide pupils, and her body shivers in fear. She feels hunted, prey beneath a ravenous lion, and the feeling twists her insides as he drops to a crouch and lifts her legs until they’re resting over his shoulders. She almost moans at the sight…

“I can’t leave until you’re satisfied…” He murmurs, nipping at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. His fangs graze the skin before he sinks them in and that rosy haze covers her vision again, her mind numb to the rest of the world as she focuses on what his mouth is doing. He’d been right about whatever’s in his saliva or bite as electricity tingles beneath her skin, every one of his touches sending sparks down the length of her body.

“God… I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of this.” She mumbles, forehead creasing in an effort to concentrate on him. He chuckles darkly, his burning gaze intertwined with hers and as she watches her blood drip from the corner of his lips her body twitches in response. It’s the most erotic thing she’s ever seen, almost hotter than when she’d peeled off the cloth, and she whines under his smug smile.

“Don’t go saying that now…” He whispers as he presses soft kisses up, closer to where she needs him most. “Or I’ll be tempted to show you which page the binding spell is on.” She gasps, not having time to process his words as his tongue darts out to swipe up the seam of her before languidly running back down. Her vision whites, a high-pitched cry tearing from her throat as he circles her clit. The fork in his tongue adds an extra sensation that makes fireworks explode behind her eyes, her hips lifting off the bed as he lightly flicks and dips it lower, embarrassing noises spilling from her lips as she drags her fingers through his hair.

When he circles her entrance, lapping at the slick that’s been dripping down her thighs, she throws her head back and begs, pleading on deaf ears for him to plunge in, his nose pressing into the aching swell of her and it’s just the right amount of pressure-

“Fuck!” She sobs, back arching off the bed as his long fingers push inside in place of his tongue. He licks softly at her clit, pushing the hood back gently and when he sucks she nearly blacks out. His fingers are thick, so warm… he starts with two, working her open, curling in until he nudges the place inside she’s lucky to reach on a good day. It makes her entire body convulse as she clamps her thighs around him, fingers twisting in the sheets as his name tumbles from her lips over and over again like a prayer.

“Another, sweet girl?” The lilt to his voice is so innocent, but the words are pure sin and a shiver runs from the base of her skull to the tip of her spine in response, her babbling incoherent. Instead, she nods, trying to keep her eyes open, focusing on the little vent on her ceiling, anything- god he’s too good…

When he adds another digit she almost comes undone, but he shushes her with a kiss on the inside of her thigh, halting his movements. She’s allowed a few seconds to breathe, gasping for air, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. His hair is falling from its perfect swoop atop his head, dusting his eyes. He’s so handsome she almost can’t believe this is real, so focused on how hot he looks eating her out that she doesn’t see his arm coiling before he sets the pace again.

Her eyes fly shut and her head falls back, wanton cries filling the air- so loud she’s certain there will be a noise complaint in her mailbox in the morning.

His thumb strokes over her swollen nub as he pushes inside and she’s gone.

Her ankles lock around his head, pulling him deeper as she comes on his tongue and his name leaves her lips over and over, chest heaving as tears pool and spill out of the corners of her eyes. Her hips leave the mattress, her mind unaware how, hands anchored to his horns to keep him there all while his tongue massages her inner walls and draws her pleasure out with every stroke. It’s never been like this- completely blank, delirious, incoherent. It feels like someone’s holding her over a flame and she’s burning, burning, stroking her fingers over the ridges of his horns as he shivers and runs his tongue up over her sensitive clit, making her wail at the overstimulation. Her hips finally meet the mattress again as she dissolves over the messy blanket, realizing his nails had pressed stinging cuts to her buttocks as he’d dragged her over the edge.

“Satisfied?” He whispers, his face hovering over hers. She hadn’t noticed he’d shifted and her hands had fallen, her stare empty and tracking dust motes floating through the beams of moonlight. She focuses on his pretty lips, glistening from his previous ministrations, and she reaches up to pull him into a deep kiss as he stumbles and falls over her, his chuckle stroking some deeply seated, violent thing inside her. He tastes like her, the two of them mixed and she’s tingling from head to toe, so consumed by touching every part of him as her hands explore and roam. They find his neglected length and she softly strokes him with one as the other rests over the nape of his neck to continue sliding their lips together.

“Not yet…” She finally answers him after pulling away to gasp for air, voice ragged. She smiles sweetly, lashes dipped low, wanting him closer. Something about him just burrows inside, familiar and calming. She hadn’t noticed it before, too buried beneath the overpowering magic thrumming through her veins. She’s glad that he’s the one that showed up.

She nuzzles her nose into his hair, the faintest hint of brimstone and ash dusting his white locks. He stutters out a low, breathy moan as she continues to slowly stroke him and in her trance she pulls back to bare her throat for him. She quickens her pace as his teeth sink in once more, drawing filthy moans from her lips as heat coils in her belly. It’s addicting, the pain and pleasure of his sharp teeth. She offers up more of herself to him and her hips snap up into his when his mouth closes around one nipple to puncture the sensitive skin before greedily suckling on it.

“Nnng… ‘starion…” She mumbles, a strangled cry leaving her lips as she spreads the pre-cum weeping from his cock down his shaft, his mouth going rough as he groans in reply. “Need you…” She murmurs and he sucks harder before leaving bleeding crescents over her other breast.

“You taste so good…” He whispers, the soft snap of his fingers wrenching her hands from her control as they come up, above her head, wrists glowing as if he’s holding them himself. The loss of control is staggering, but as he rises, eyes glowing, blood coating his lips, she feels a fierce craving spread low in her body before she’s aching for him and his tongue and fingers won’t suffice this time. She wants the real thing.

“Please…” She whines, straining against her invisible bonds as he presses himself against her slit to coat himself in the wetness there. Slippery, obscene sounds fill the room and the way he slides and catches on her entrance before gliding over her throbbing clit coax her heart to pound harder, a shock sparking between her legs at his low lurching moan.

“Please-!” She repeats, thrashing as he continues, every touch and throb of his cock pure torture. His claws dig into her hips, her mouth spilling every curse and prayer she knows as he prods at her entrance.

“My turn,” He growls, stilling her rocking hips. Her eyes slam closed as she shudders around him, the pain a dull echo as he gradually sinks into her waiting heat. He almost doesn’t fit, eyes latched onto the place he’s desperately trying to defile, and she watches him tremble under the effort of restraint when he finally slips inside. He draws a muffled wail from her as he pushes past her entrance, an iron grip holding her in place as she twists her arms above her, panting and clenching around him as she adjusts to the stretch. She finally relaxes as his hands caress her shivering thighs, letting him gently soothe her tense muscles so he can fully sheath within her.

The feeling of fullness is like nothing else- he occupies every inch as his hips finally meet hers and her breath rushes out of her as if he’s taking up every spare bit of room inside her body. He waits, lower lip anchored beneath twin fangs, and she holds him in her blurring gaze. She can’t breathe, chest tight, the soft sounds building in her chest climbing into a litany of pleading and praise.

“So… much… please move,” She gasps as he reaches up to grab her hands and the bonds vanish, guiding them down to the mattress on either side of her head as their fingers intertwine. He’s close, so close she can see every detail on his face, can see the way his brow tenses and sweat gathers over the creasing flesh. Her thighs press against her chest as he folds her legs back, ankles dangling over his shoulders, and she screws her eyes shut as he dips impossibly deeper inside. The whine that slips out of her gritted teeth as he slowly drags out is nothing compared to the sharp, wailing cry when he pistons back into her. It dwarfs any sound she’s ever made; despite the circumstances, her cheeks burn in reply.

“Astarion!” She sobs, holding on to him for dear life. He sets a slow pace at first and she cries with each movement, repeating his name and twisting her head from side to side. He abandons his restraining grip on one of her hands to press one to her throat, stilling her writhing, lips pulled into a fangy grin.

“Eyes on me, pet.” He whispers. She gasps, clenching at the sound of his voice and the tight clutch over her neck. “I’m going to fill you… over… and over… and over…” Her eyes fly shut and she arches into him, mind fogging as he continues to thrust with rough, slow snaps of his hips. “Hells… barely been inside you for a minute… and you’re already brainless.”

“Fuck you,” She gasps when his hand disappears from her neck, a finger pad pressing to her clit to rub soft circles against it.

“That’s the idea,” He chuckles, dropping his lips to kiss her, scattering them over her jaw, neck, and chest. His hot tongue swirls over one nipple, then the other, the pressure building in her lower stomach faster than the first time. Whatever magic flows through her veins, it’s causing her vision to blur, her chest to feel light and her heart to crash against her ribs. Every drag of his cock steals her breath, every whispered word makes her impossibly wetter- afraid to look at the mess in the morning. He squeezes her breasts and her eyes flutter closed, the sensation of stroking on her bundle of nerves making her jump-

“Is that…?” She doesn’t finish, watching his tail flick in the air with a smirk before he descends on her again. “I… I don’t know how much longer-”

“Let go,” He interrupts, tongue flicking over the peaks of her breasts before he locks their gazes once more. She whines, lost in the tide of his thrusts and the way he feels inside her. He so big… so full… she can’t help the way she squeezes and pulls him in each time he pounds back inside, drawing guttural growls from his throat as obscenely wet sounds fill the room. “You’re so good, Ofelia…” He murmurs, fingernails digging into the plump flesh of her thighs as his voice pulls the coil tighter. “Creaming all over my cock.” She bites her lip, his tail rubbing and stroking and pushing her closer and closer and-

“Astarion!” She sobs, every thread unraveling and burning out. There’s an entire night sky sprawled out before her closed eyelids as he fucks her through her climax, every sound he makes sending shockwaves through her after the initial crest and fall. When she finally looks at him, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are nearly black, his cock twitching inside her.

“So… tight…” He mumbles, hands resting over her hips as his thrusts become more erratic. He’s pulsing, growing hotter, filling her more until she feels like she’s going to shatter around him, dragging against the spot inside her that leaves her breathless and panting for more and she’s afraid it’ll never be enough. He rests a hand over the bulge in her stomach, over the shape of him, and the pressure makes her gush around his twitching cock.

“Please…” She whimpers, vision hazy around the edges. She isn’t sure what she’s begging for, but he seems to understand. He presses a kiss to her lips as her pounding heart fills the silent air, hands coming up to scratch at his back and cry his name, his cock pulsing and-

Hot and powerful, he spills inside her with a strangled cry. She's almost afraid he'll never stop, filling her until she’s sure she can't hold anymore. Watching his face twist in pleasure as his hips still, gripping her waist to the point she’ll see marks in the morning, she whimpers and pulls him in for another bruising kiss. He plunges into her mouth like a starving man and she greedily matches his fervor, stroking his sides, pressing her palms against his chest, and running her fingers through his hair.

Her belly feels warm, full of his come, and his gaze darkens as he strokes the swell of flesh below her navel before flicking back up to her face. Trailing wisps of coherent thought dissolve into the recesses of her brain as his softening length begins to stiffen again, a soft growl slipping out of his mouth as his body jerks forward and he slides easily back inside. She chokes on a sound, the feeling lighting her up all over again as she struggles to accommodate him at full strength. She turns to look at the clock, registering the digital numbers turning to three am- they’d been at it for almost two hours.

“When you say you won’t leave until I’m satisfied… is that something you’ll just know? Or do I have to tell you?” He looks at her as he gently rolls his hips and her breath hitches as his tip brushes against her cervix.

“The tattoo on your neck will break,” He explains through his teeth, hands running over her body to gently squeeze her breasts and she moans softly as he rolls into her again.

“Is it still there?” She mumbles, wishing she could see into the mirror, but it’s behind him. He nods, dropping to his elbows to mouth at it, presumably. She floods his ears with delicate sighs, fingers splaying over his ribs as she traces his sides, eyes fluttering shut at the beautiful way his mouth moves-

“Ahh!” She yelps when he yanks her up off the mattress and pulls her into his arms, carried in the air. Her legs wind around him on instinct, clinging to his shoulders to not fall as he carries her into the living room. As she glances around the space, for some strange reason she feels off- almost as if a spell has been broken. Here he is, in another room of her apartment, and the strangeness she feels is entirely ridiculous. But he’s real, he’s real and standing in front of her tiny kitchen bar, eyes boring into her own, mischievous smile painted over his face. She traces his lips with her forefinger, smirk reflecting his, and he’s draping her over the counter to have her again.

She loses count of how many times he does- in the kitchen, over the couch, against the door. He shows no signs of tiring, cock hard and always pumping her full. She can’t remember a moment where she isn’t tumbling over the edge, thoughts useless, head empty as his red eyes sparkle in the dark, intent on burrowing into her chest.

There’s a brief period where she’s under the stream from the shower, unsure how she got there and still cradled in his arms. Her mind is weak like trailing threads, too distracted by the almost numbing tingles spreading through her body as she smiles at him. He’s still fully sheathed inside her- she’s almost certain he hasn't pulled out since they left the bedroom- and his impossibly strong arms rest below the swell of her ass as he presses her against the shower wall and kisses her, water mixing on their tongues.

“Is the mark still there?” She whispers, vaguely curious as the hot water flushes her body a light pink. He pulls away, eyes hazy and clouded over with pleasure, before lifting her hips and pulling her back down onto his cock.

“Still… there…” He huffs, brows drawn down in concentration. “I may not be able to keep up, soon.” She giggles, holding tight as he finishes their shower and brings her back to bed. Why he’d even bothered trying to clean them up, she isn’t sure.

On her hands and knees she takes him, and when her arms begin to tire she lies on her stomach, cheek against the mattress while his hands hold her hips up and he groans and fills her again. She shivers as his feverish hands stroke over her thighs, down her back, and to her scalp, caressing her hair softly. Her eyes flutter shut as he rocks them back and forth, the tenderness of his actions making her stutter out a long, breathless sigh.

Hazily she registers him lying her on her side, still joined, strong grip on the back of her knee as he lightly draws another orgasm out of her, fingers deftly working at her clit until she comes with a broken sob and milks him for what she considers the rest of what he’s got. As he pants into her ear the horizon turns a faint purple beyond her window and she collapses against his chest, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw.

While they catch their breath, she feels her skin chill and an almost imperceptible pressure vanish from around her neck. Her fingers come up to touch her throat, groaning at the exhaustion weighing her limbs down and the sudden ache spreading over every muscle. He strokes her stomach, peering down at her, and she can see that the band is gone through her reflection in his eyes, her arms and legs finally clear of it.

“Oh no, it’s over?” She mumbles listlessly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyelids as she starts to come back to herself. A light chuckle from beside her draws her out of the odd feelings of disappointment and longing as she gazes up at him, early morning sun passing through his hair to turn it bright and golden. He looks more like an angel than any devil she’s ever pictured.

“You’re satisfied,” He smiles, faint and soft. It makes her heart twist uncomfortably as he reaches down and finally slips out of her. A flush burns her cheeks at the slickness that drips down and pools between her legs over the sheets.

“Hmm,” She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting to the ceiling and leveling a hateful glare over the vent that she’d previously latched on to when she needed to ground herself. “Doesn’t feel like it.” He covers her vision, looking pleased with himself, and she feels a pang of sadness knowing he’ll have to leave.

“My contract’s fulfilled, Ofelia.” She nods, patting his arm, and when he moves from behind her to stand in her bedroom, gloriously naked and back to her, she admires him like he’s a distant statue up high on a pedestal. Out of reach.

“Umm… do I say ‘It’s been fun!’ or ‘Thank you!’?” She asks, wincing as he turns to look at her over his shoulder. His amused smile makes her feel less awkward, and she jolts in surprise when he stoops down to press a kiss to her lips.

“It’s been fun, thank you,” He grins, all sharp teeth and cocky glint in his eyes. She stares, then smiles softly as he rises to his full height, and those elusive wings that had vanished before stretch out behind him to cover the length of her room. The next time she blinks, he’s gone, and she looks around the room in alarm before stilling.

It’s silent as death.

She lies back, staring back up at that vent, every part of her arching and sore, far too stiff to think about moving let alone changing her sheets. She closes her eyes, fierce loneliness prodding at her chest.

***

“Earth plane’s portal is ringing again,” The droning voice of Raphael calls out over the tops of the rows of desks, his tone growing more tired by the hour. No one answers, scrolls and papers flying about as the demons sitting behind their quills carry on cataloging and documenting contracts and summons.

“Did you not hear me?” Raphael sounds more on edge and Astarion flicks his tail in amusement, glancing across the desk at his chattiest coworker.

“Think Haarlep’s still booked?” Karlach grins, jotting something on her scroll before she flicks it behind her right shoulder and it hits a lowly imp in the head.

“Must be. Wonder if he’ll call me again,” Astarion sighs, idly flicking the quill pen in his hand around his fingers. He remembers his outing and smirks. He wouldn’t mind if it were her again. If only he could be so lucky.

“Astarion!”

“There it is- good luck, soldier,” Karlach whispers before grabbing her beverage to dart for the breakroom.

“Yes, sir?” Astarion sagely dips his head in a formal bow as he watches Raphael massage his temples.

“Please cover for Haarlep again,”

“Of course, sir.” Filling in for an incubus isn’t the job he’d thought he’d be doing while slaving away for an archdevil, but its excellent overtime and exceptional pay convince him fill out the request sheet every once in a while. When he steps through the portal he’s met with familiar darkened windows and the scent of vanilla, votives burning on every shelf and surface.

“Hope you weren’t busy?” He turns to see her standing in the middle of her little summoning circle, far too overdressed for his tastes, and smile bright and shining in the dim room.

“Ofelia,” He smirks, catching the spellbook when she tosses it at him.

“It’s already bookmarked, at least…” She walks closer, brown eyes flashing playfully as her long dark hair falls over her shoulder. “That’s if I read the fine print correctly.” He glances at the page, hellish heart flaring with warmth at the infernal word for binding. He grins.

“Cheeky pup,”

Remember Me

summary: you cant make sense of where you are or even how you ended up in this cell, hells, you're not even sure of who you are at this point; any memories of your past are a blur. its all the more confusing when a group of adventurers come rescue you, and a particularly worried pale elf takes it upon himself to help you remember who you are.

rating: E

word count: 7k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, reader is tav)

cw: 18+. angst, act 3 spoilers related to astarion's side quest, mentions of kidnaping and torture, memory loss, blood feeding, vampire bites, smut, oral (f!receiving), p in v, The Leg Thing followed by mating press, sweet love making, love confession. full list on ao3

a/n: loosely based on this audio (18+) from OGY.

read on ao3

or keep reading down below~

Pain.

It’s the first thing that hit you when your consciousness came back to you.

How much everything fucking hurt.

Your entire body felt as if it had gone through the nine Hells, all at once; you could barely find the strength in yourself to get to your feet, let alone push yourself off the ground.

Then it was the disarray when you couldn’t place what had happened for you to feel so awful.

It was as if you had woken up from a long sleep; distant voices in your head, blurry faces merging together when you closed your eyes, and an awful feeling of emptiness, as if you had forgotten something extremely important but you couldn’t put your finger on it, no matter how much you thought about it.

Nothing but endless darkness.

As much as you tried to remember your life, anything before this moment, you were met with a dark fog clouding your vision. Your family, your friends — if you even had any — had all vanished from your memory. You think you remember yourself, for the most part, but even that was a stretch; you couldn’t even remember your own bloody name.

You look around you, realising for the first time that you were in a prison cell. The course of events after waking up in this dark cell hadn’t helped; the sudden cold inhabiting you, followed by this man — this monster — barging in without as much as a warning before pushing you face first against the ground and ripping open your shirt, to then torture you as he carved your back with his knife, only to leave as suddenly as he had appeared. Barely a few words exchanged, aside from some mumbling about teaching “him” a lesson, whoever that was, and you were alone once again.

Alone, with nothing but this seething pain in your back from the butchery you had gone through, the hunger digging into your belly, and your blood leaking from your shivering form, pooling around you on the cold, hard floor.

You barely had the time to gather your thoughts when the same man came back barely minutes later to carry you out of your cell and into a larger room — keeping you restrained with some magic that visibly came from his staff — where more people waited.

By the looks of it, you had been right on one thing: this was indeed a dungeon, and you were located in the deepest part of them; this room contained only a round, rock platform, located above an endless, foggy pit.

In the state you were in, you couldn’t catch everything he said as he went on a monologue. Something about powers, freedom; whatever it was, they needed you to achieve it, that was the only thing that was clear from his speech. You couldn’t understand how any of them would follow a maniac like him, but in their eyes you noticed how they listened to his words with as much fear as awe.

Your form was shivering from the cold; you wanted to cover up your top which had been previously ripped off from your body, but it was all in vain: the restraints of his magic kept you in place, and right after his speech, you were sent flying over a designated spot floating above the ground, just like all the six other people that had surrounded you previously.

Your arms remained bound to your sides by whatever spell this monster had cast on you, leaving your chest exposed to the damp, cool air of this dungeon, and your fresh wound stinging evermore at your back.

You remember the panic tightening in your chest when you realised you couldn't escape. You remember the brief relief, hope even, at the sight of a group of adventurers approaching — one of the figures shouting at the man in the middle of the room — followed by explosions and screams. Then the fear settled in when you saw them execute one of the other unfortunate souls magically held floating around this room, one new truth forming in your mind.

They weren’t here to save you.

You would be next. They would kill you. You would die here.

The pressure in your chest grew tighter as you closed your eyes and mourned your life, one you didn’t even remember experiencing, one that — you hope — had been full of adventures, of acquaintances… of love.

This last one must’ve been true. You remember being loved — more so how it felt, even if the feeling seemed so far and long ago. You remember the butterflies in your belly, the fluster in your heart, the heat between your legs; you remember just enough to know that if you died today, at least, you would’ve died as someone who had been loved.

You didn’t expect your feet to touch the cold hard ground once more. You remember falling to your knees, your body exhausted by the abuse it had gone through in just the last few hours. You remember your dry throat when you noticed the butchered corpse in the middle of the room, barely recognizable anymore.

“Gods… what has he done to you?”

But you couldn’t seem to place the face of your saviour. The bloodied, silver curled elf who had rushed to kneel next to you after defeating your captor, who approached you and held your face so carefully.

How those crimson eyes of his had widened in horror when you flinched at his touch and backed away.

Him and his group had killed one of you who stood in this circle, who’s to say he wasn’t here to finish the job? Lure you in with a sweet touch only to snap your head off; you knew better than to let yourself fall for the first man to approach you.

“Darling, it’s over now.” He had said with his voice low, getting back on his feet to approach you as if you were an injured beast, “Just take my hand, we’re getting out of here.”

You didn’t know whether to feel insulted or reassured by his assertiveness, but you remained frozen in place, your eyes switching from the hand extended out to you and his severe look that you reciprocated with a frown to hide your terror.

“Look,” he sneered, “you can either take my hand, come with me out of this hellhole, or rot away in this godsforsaken—”

From behind him, someone from his group called out a name which stopped him mid-sentence just as his tone was rising.

“Astarion.”

A name that felt oddly familiar, despite the void in your memories. It danced beautifully as it echoed across the room and around your mind; there was something about it that just sounded right.

Astarion. A name worthy of being written in the stars, you find yourself thinking, the sound of it bringing you a familiar sense of peace, of security.

Astarion. Maybe if you repeated it enough in your head, something clearer would come up. Maybe, just maybe, then you would remember.

He took a deep breath and continued, which brought you back from your reverie, “I’m quite certain you went through the Hells and back, but for now, I’ll have to ask you to trust me, just as you’ve done in the past. Can you do that for me?”

He extended out his hand once more, this time a request rather than a command, his voice carrying out his concerns, “Can you trust me?”

“Why would I trust someone I’ve just met?” You wanted to ask, but something about the way he asked struck a chord, as if you did know him. As if you knew he spoke true when he said you used to trust him, and you finally accepted the hand he held out to you.

A hand that pulled you to your feet, and guided you out of this dreadful place.

You were given a cloak to cover your shivering form, and you walked along with them back to their camp. Back to this intriguing, yet charming man’s tent, where they all agreed you should rest for the night.

The first thing that hit you when you stepped in was the smell.

You didn’t know what it was exactly, you couldn’t recognize it, but it was intoxicating; it only made your stomach churn more. As the adrenaline of the previous hour settled down, you fell to your knees, grabbing onto your waist as the pain that had been muted came back screaming through your guts.

“Shit—” He rushed down to check on you, with one hand down your back, holding onto you, “Darling, talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“What isn’t wrong?! I was tortured, starved off, almost sacrificed for all I know, and I can’t even remember who I fucking am!” Is what you wanted to say, but all you could manage out is a groan in the middle of your sobs.

When you lifted your head, your eyes fell onto the set of messily arranged bottles from where the strong smell came from, and a quick exchange of glances told him everything he needed to know.

“Of course, you’re hungry,” He sighed heavily, "Look, I’ll gladly offer you some from my own reserves — after I’ve taken a look at your wounds.”

You had almost forgotten about them.

You averted your eyes from his gaze, your mind now racing as you expected the worst. You had no way to see what had been done to your back, but the pain you had gone through was a good indicator of how bad it would look.

Met with your silence, he continued, “I need… to see what he’s done to you. Please.”

Your eyes went back and forth between him and the dark bottles briefly considering pouncing on them to get a taste as your mouth watered in anticipation, but you reluctantly turned your back to him as you sat with your legs pressed back into your stomach, barely helping mitigate the pain in your stomach.

As you let the cloak fall from your shoulders, you heard nothing but a shaky, deflated sigh behind you. Seconds of silence passed before you considered turning around, but a part of you was terrified of the look you would find on his face.

You finally found the strength to utter your first words.

“Is it… that bad?” Your voice was rough from neglect, as the last time you had used it had been to scream when you received this torture.

You heard him take a deep breath, shaking away the shock that had previously rendered him speechless, “You must’ve already known what he carved away in your back. Hells, I knew before even looking, but seeing it…” he pauses, his tone quieting, “seeing it is another story completely.”

“I… I don’t know,” you muster with a weak voice. It's true, you had no idea, he had carved your damn back, you had no way to see the extent of his torture.

He took a deep breath, shaking away the feelings that had sneaked their way into his voice, “It’s no matter, it’s over now; Cazador is dead. He won’t hurt—” he paused, as if processing the information himself, “Anyone, ever again.”

You turned around to face him this time, “Who’s Cazador?”

He huffed, “I’m glad it was that easy for you to forget about him, but when you’ve suffered under his hand for nearly two centuries, the memories tend to linger.”

You remained silent as you stared at him, just as shocked as you were confused by his words. When he noticed your stare, his face twisted in concern, “Oh shit, you’re serious.”

You nodded silently.

He continued, tentatively, “He was my master, he’s the one we killed back in the dungeons — the one who abducted you, who did this to you. Do you not remember any of this?”

You shook your head slightly, never leaving his gaze.

“Oh dear.” His voice dropped as his eyebrows raised and his eyes widened all at once, “Do you remember anything at all — the absolute, our adventure… Do you remember… me?”

His eyes went back and forth between yours, as if he was searching them for any sign of recognition, looking for you, whoever you were behind those confused, teary eyes. You gave him another shy shake of your head, followed by a single tear coming down your cheek, a tear you weren’t sure why it was shed; whether it was from the loss of yourself, or the mourning of something you didn’t even remember having.

“Gods…” He breathed out heavily as his sight left you, his mind visibly ruminating. “He can’t… He couldn’t have… He…”

His tone suddenly changed as he growled, “That monster.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head before looking back at you, “You were with us just yesterday. You were — are this group’s leader. If… If you have no memories of your mortal life then it means…” he looked away, frowning, “He rushed your transformation to replace me in the ritual.”

None of the words he had said made any sense to you, “Transformation?”

He turned back to you to be met with your visible confusion, and he explained further, “Normally, when you’re turned, you need to be drained of your blood and buried six feet underground, before you can crawl out of your tomb to be reborn. This process takes a day, usually, and when you awaken, you are still you, but immortal and bound to your master,” he spat out the last word like it left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue.

“Now you,” he continues, “you were turned within twelve hours, which would explain why your eyes are only half red, why your fangs haven’t come out yet, and…” his voice quieted down, “why you have no memories of your past. As if the rushed transformation had actually killed this part of you along with your humanity.”

You remained focused on the first thing he had said: your eyes had changed colour?

You hadn’t had the chance to look at yourself since your awakening and if not remembering your name wasn’t anxiety inducing enough, you realised you couldn’t even recall what you looked like.

All of a sudden, panic rushed its way into your heart; you needed to see yourself. You frantically looked around the tent to find anything that could send back your reflection and practically jumped on the pocket mirror when you spotted it nearby Astarion.

Only the mirror was broken. It must’ve been; it reflected nothing.

“If that wasn’t obvious by now, this should’ve clarified things a bit,” he said.

He lowered the mirror you still held in front of you, expecting your image to be reflected eventually, maybe at a different angle, maybe with more light. Maybe another one would, maybe you were just delirious from everything that had happened only today.

“You’re a vampire now. No matter the angle, you’ll never see your reflection come out of this mirror. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Vampire.

The word didn’t make sense; nothing made sense.

Yet, when you parted your lips to let your tongue run against your teeth; you found your canines the same size they were, that they should’ve been, but they were much sharper than what would be considered normal and you almost pierced your tongue from the gesture.

“Maybe…” he carried on, lost in thought, “there’s even a chance that the tadpole has been messing around with more of the changes your body is going through.”

“Tadpole?” You interjected, your head shaking of its own in disbelief. “What?”

He huffed in astonishment, “So you really do remember nothing.”

You sighed, “I— I don’t… As much as I try, I’m met with a void of memories. The only thing remotely familiar since I woke up has been… you.” His eyes had gone soft and bright with hope, but also melancholy. “I don’t know who you were to me, and I don’t know why, but some part of me knew I could trust you.”

He chuckled, a sad smile finding its way over his lips, “Even with your memories gone, it seems I can’t leave your mind, can I?”

You gave him a smile of your own, “Would you mind… reminding me of my life? Of us?”

“Gods, where to start, darling. Would you believe me if I told you our story began with me holding a knife to your throat?”

You found yourself smiling unconsciously, “With everything that's happened to me in the last few hours, I find that easy to believe.”

“And strangely enough it's probably the least odd part of our story.” He tilted his head, giving you a genuine smile before carrying on.

“It’s all tedious, really, but… There’s one memory I want to tell you about: The night of the tiefling party. Ugh, it was dreadful for the most part; the wine tasted like vinegar, the music was too loud, and there were too many of those bloody tieflings at our camp, to be quite sincere— “

“Not a people’s person I take it?”

“My dear, after years of being forced on and by people, the last thing you want is to be surrounded by more of them.” The sight of you parting your lips and raising your eyebrows told him you had also forgotten about this and he quickly caught onto it, changing the direction of the discussion back to the topic at hand. “But, there was one good thing that came out from this night: when we met in the woods. I had high hopes of you joining me there — although no doubts, of course — I was the most suitable option among our group after all.”

“Most suitable? Someone else wanted to spend the night with… me?”

“Darling, the whole world and their mother wanted a special moment with you. But only one of us got that honour. A chance to steal away with everyone’s new favourite leader.”

The faint sounds of the party fading: music echoing through the forest, people laughing, the cool air of a summer’s night breezing through, and good company throughout the night.

“I have been waiting for you. Waiting since the moment I first saw you. Waiting… to have you.”

You blinked, “You… were waiting for me in the woods, I’m— I’m remembering.”

“I did put a lot of effort into my entrance, I would be upset if you didn't remember it quite honestly.” You laughed softly. “Do you remember what happened afterwards?”

Your eyes roamed as you pushed the memory further, before you lifted your head to meet his gaze, “You… kissed me.”

“After you had the audacity to say I didn't have you yet while you had come to me of your own volition, yes, and then?”

You chuckled, but your smile quickly faded as your memory unlocked the next part of this puzzle. He looked at you with a knowing glint in his eyes; he was simply waiting for you to say it yourself.

“We made love.”

He sighed dramatically, “Love is such a big word for what happened back then, but…” his tongue clicked, accentuating the end of the word, “That was certainly the start of it. The start of a series of feelings that came and complicated everything. It’s what pushed me, soon after, to confess to you that it was all part of a silly plan I had to keep you in my favour. I was terrified, honestly, especially considering it was all because I initially manipulated you to fall for me…”

He paused, searching your expression before carrying on, and continued when he found nothing but soft eyes looking back. “But then — despite everything — there you were, holding me tight.”

He let go of a deep breath.

“For so long I had nothing — no one. And all of a sudden, there’s you, who held onto me, who cared so much more than anyone ever did. And I found myself not wanting to let go. I couldn't.”

He frowned, turning his gaze away, “And Cazador used that against me. As soon as he had word of my whereabouts in Baldur’s Gate and the crowd I was hanging out with, he jumped at the first chance to torture me once more. He probably thought I was unaffected by any physical pain he could impose on me by now, so he did the next worst thing: take it out on the one person I cared about in this wretched world.” He shook his head, “If we hadn’t gotten there in time—”

“But you did.” You interrupt. “You saved me and yourself in the process. This ritual wouldn’t have given you the freedom you think it carried.”

His eyes lit up, “You talk as if you knew what it entailed.”

You nodded, “It’s coming back to me, bit by bit. I remember what you told me about him. I remember the purpose of the ritual, and your plan to replace him and take his power instead.”

He sighed, “Gale thought brilliant to kill one of my brothers to stop Cazador from carrying on with the ritual. Bloody wizard didn’t realise it meant I couldn’t continue it myself then.

“Maybe he did.” His gaze flickered back to you in confusion before you continued, “You don’t need satanic powers to carry on, Astarion. You’re free now.”

He huffed, “And all it cost was my life in the sun.”

“Well,” you tilted your head, “It did cost me mine too. Once the tadpoles are gone, we’ll both be banished to the shadows once again. But we’ll be together, and that’s something at least.”

He rolled his eyes before landing them on you, “At least the transformation didn’t take away from your heartbleeding optimism, dear.”

You chuckled, “Thank the Gods for that— ugh!”

You clutched at your stomach, your body tilting forward in pain, and Astarion instantly knew the cause of your suffering; it’s something he recognized all too well.

“Hells, you must be starving. Gods know Cazador wouldn’t waste a single drop on a lowly spawn — no offence, dear.”

“None taken,” you forced a humourless laugh. “I shouldn’t have expected much considering I was to be cattle for a satanic ritual.”

He turned around and you kept a close eye on him as he handled the bottles beside him, pulling out a silver cup out of his bag of holding to pour you a portion.

“Here,” he sat back down, parting his legs open, extending one arm to you, “Come on love, sit back against me, would you?”

You stared unsure for a few seconds but obliged him. You scooted back until your back was fully resting against his chest, leaving no space lost between the two of you.

When he brought the cup forward you reached for it but he pulled back, clicking his tongue, “Oh no, my sweet, I will be the one to feed you tonight. This is your first time, we wouldn't want your primal instincts to take over now, would we?”

You turned around to stare at him for some time with incertitude and he simply tilted his head, with a sly smile, “Humour me, darling. You’ll be glad you did, hm?”

You pressed your lips together almost pouting, but acquiesced as you nestled yourself between his legs, your tense body laying against his chest once again.

He brought the cup to your mouth at long last, while his other hand held onto your chin. You gasped at his touch — while not unwelcome, it was a surprise — and you parted your lips to welcome your drink.

His hands were rough against your skin, yet there was a softness to it that made you melt under his touch. Made you want to push further into his hand to know how it would feel around your throat. It was almost enough to make you forget about the drink against your lips. Almost.

While the mere closeness of it had been invigorating, drinking it was ecstatic. It felt like your first meal in weeks, and it might as well have been with the pit that had replaced your stomach.

You took big gulps of the delectable nectar, barely pausing for air as you rushed to empty the cup’s content, eager to have your fill with this delicious substance.

“Slowly now darling,” he pulled the cup away from your lips and you gasped at the loss of your feeding source, “This is your first time feeding; I wouldn’t rush things.”

You frowned, but complied; even if you were starving, he had over two hundred years of experience with this form — you barely had a few hours. Your mind wasn’t all there yet either, and it's true that you couldn’t trust those new primal instincts to be civil enough to drink responsibly.

You held onto the one truth you knew, one that was clear ever since the start: you trust him.

You eased back into him, letting him hold you and guide you throughout your meal. The cup rested at a slightly down angle against your lips to allow you good mouthfuls of blood without overfeeding you all at once.

“There, good girl,” he purred. “You are doing so well for me, love. Small sips now, let your body recuperate from the shock.”

There was something about his voice that soothed you, brought you a peace of mind, a calm after this storm that had been your last few hours.

A shiver down your spine, that travelled all the way down between your legs.

You finished the content of the cup at a slower pace than you had started, soothed by his soft approach and the new blood filling your stomach, and he took this chance to explain more about your condition while pouring you another serving.

“Considering this is your first feeding, you’ll need a bit more to carry on until your next meal. Mind you, it’s normal if you don’t feel full; this is a curse, after all. The real challenge is to learn to live with your hunger.” He cleared his throat as he brought the cup back up to your lips, full again, “Alright now, open up, love.”

You hungrily parted your bloodied lips to welcome another serving.

“There, there, just like that.” A soft whimper left your throat between sips, and he caressed your cheek with his thumb, “Shhh, you're okay, you're doing just fine.” He leaned next to your head to whisper, “You’re perfect, my sweet.”

For a moment, you could swear you felt your heart beat anew.

You drank with his help until you finished one full bottle from his reserve, and with the pain in your stomach settling down, you allowed your body to relax against him. That’s when you felt something poking against your back, something you wanted to taste as much as the blood that had blessed your tongue just moments ago.

And he must’ve known, too.

“So, as you must’ve realised, your hunger was a side effect of the transformation. But what you’re feeling now, which I can very much smell on you, is a result of your feeding.”

If any of the blood you had ingested had made it in your veins by now, they must’ve all rushed to your cheeks at this very moment.

“Blood,” he continued, “Brings us back alive temporarily; it warms us, allows our hearts a few shy beating of their own, but it also reawakens other mortal pleasures. The first time it can be… a tad overwhelming.”

“It’s…” You hadn’t realised how quiet your heart had been until it started beating away once more in your chest; your cheeks felt warm, your breathing had accelerated, and your core was aching. You breathed out your reply, “It really is.”

As you turned your head aside, resting against his shoulder, and your eyes lingered over his lips, another primal urge awoke in you to devour him, in every way possible. You needed to taste him, his mouth, his blood, his come—

Until you were blessed with another sudden memory, and you turned away from his lips, gazing anywhere that wasn’t on him to stop yourself from acting irrationally.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry—”

He grabbed your chin and turned you back to him in one fluid movement. “You have nothing to be sorry for, darling, and I would be more than happy to entertain these carnal thoughts I saw in those eyes of yours. Unless you’d rather spend the night with someone else?” he teased.

You held your breath as he brought you closer to him, his hand lingering over your cheek. If you just closed the distance now, you could—

“No, Astarion, I won't force—”

“Stop that right now.” He cut you off without skipping a beat, stunning you once more. “You are not forcing yourself onto me or forcing me. This, right now, right here, is my decision.”

His other hand came up to cup your face, drawing you closer to him, your lips but a whisper apart.

“I want this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice lustful and heavy with need. “I want… you.”

Your eyes locked and the second after, his lips were pressed against yours and you let yourself get lost into this kiss. How his hands held on to your face, how his tongue tasted the blood on your lips, how he whimpered into your mouth at the contact of your own tongue; this memory of love you had remembered earlier, it had been a memory of this.

His kiss, his touch, his voice, him.

Your kiss was engulfing, springing your heart back to life in a sudden rush as you met every of his kisses with the same passion, and soon enough, you were laying back against his bedroll, with him over you and stealing your breath away; one — you didn’t realise yet — you didn't need anymore.

His hands rested next to your head and you allowed yourself to reach up to hold his face, trace the lines of his age over his cheeks and down his neck, and trailing along the opening of his shirt before he broke apart from your lips.

“I’ve been thinking about this for many nights now.”

“What would I be like as a vampire?” You asked semi-jokingly.

“No, silly — Although, the question did flit into my mind once or twice, but no. I was thinking of how I would have you, the next time I would bed you. I’ve touched myself at the thought of having you again, the sounds you would make, how your cunt would feel wrapped around my cock instead of my hand—”

He took your hand from where it was resting and guided it down between his legs, and a short gasp escaped you when you felt how hard he was.

“ —but tonight, after spending a lifetime looking for it, I finally know what I want.” His half-lidded eyes seemed darker than they had been, and you lost yourself in them, "And Gods help me if I can't have you—”

“I’m yours,” you answered back in a heartbeat, your voice but a whisper, “I’ve always been, and I’ll always be, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Your words broke the remaining chains of control Astarion had over himself, as he pulled your pants off from you and removed his own shirt while your hands fumbled with his trousers. A moment later, you both laid against one another, as bare as you were on your first days on this plane of existence, your lips back on each other.

“Mmh, I wonder…” Astarion let his kisses trail down from your mouth to your jaw, then your neck.

“Hm?”

“Now that you’re a vampire,” he left small kisses alongside your neck and down your shoulder, “your blood will taste different.”

“You’ll still drink from me?”

“Well of course, dear,” he lingered in the crook of your neck, before licking his way up to your ear where he whispered, “And I can’t wait to know how you taste after you’ve tasted me.”

You shivered against his breath, fully expecting him to bite you following those words, and when he didn’t you were almost disappointed. He, on the other hand, seemed extremely satisfied with himself.

“Eager already? And here I thought I was the most depraved between the two of us.” You sighed heavily as he came back up to face you, “Maybe I will be tasting you tonight, after all. Is this something that you want?”

You smiled softly, your hand finding his cheek again, “Yes.”

When your lips met this time, it was soft, pure, communicating words you hadn’t exchanged yet despite your longing for one another. It only made you want him more.

“Speaking of tasting you,” he said against your lips, “I wonder if something else has changed.”

You barely had time to process what he had said when he made his way down your chest, briefly sucking on one of your nipples.

“Mh,” he released it with a pop, “this one still tastes the same.”

He moved to your other breast to give it the same attention, teasing it with his teeth and earning him a moan from you before releasing it, “This one as well.”

He left a path of kisses as he trailed down your navel, until he was resting between your legs with a hungry look in his eyes, “Now, for the main course—”

You weren’t prepared for his fangs to dig in the inside of your thighs, making you scream in surprise as your hands grabbed onto the sheet of his bedroll. The pain quickly turned into pleasure as he nibbled and kissed the softness of your thigh, before making his way to your wet slit, which begged for attention.

The smell of you invaded his senses and you could feel his breath over your core as he breathed you in, his arms now wrapped under your thighs as he laid on his stomach and between your legs, “Darling, you smell divine.”

A soft whimper escaped your lips as his tongue pressed against your entrance and he slowly licked all the way up to your clit, “And you taste— Gods, you taste even better than before.” He smiled up to you, his mouth covered by a cocktail of your blood and juices. “I didn’t think it could be possible.”

You were past words by now, but even if you had come up with something, you don’t think you would’ve been able to utter anything with the way his tongue worked between your legs, devouring you of your essence.

“I would forsake blood for the rest of my days if it meant I could nourish myself only of your essence, my love,” he said between licks of you. “The Gods truly made you to ruin me; I could never move on from your taste, even if I wanted to.”

His hands surrounding your thighs and his nails digging in your flesh kept you in place as he continued to worship you, and no matter how much you wiggled, his hold on you held on, as if you were the first meal he was having in days and he wouldn’t let you go until he was sated.

Astarion recognized the signs of your unbecoming as your breathing started shaking and your legs tensed around his head, pushing him to tease you further.

“Are you gonna come for me now?” He smiled between your legs, “Come on, love. Come for me. Come on my tongue.”

The vibration of his humming as he continued to savour you only added to the feeling of his tongue, lapping at your entrance and sucking over your sensitive bud, and his nails digging deeper into your thighs added a delicious hint of pain. After weeks without any sex, you were sensitive to the slightest touch, and now there he was: tasting you, devouring you, wanting you; it was all too much.

“Ah… Astarion!”

Your head fell back against the rough floor of his tent as your back arched and stars clouded your vision. You knew how ironic it was to think so, but you had never felt more alive than you did at this very moment, with your devoted lover worshipping you like the goddess who had finally answered his prayers from all those years ago.

Your legs collapsed as he let go of them to move back up to face you, and he took this chance to hook your leg with his, pushing it upwards to create the perfect angle for him to place himself against your entrance.

Your half-lidded eyes met his, delirious with lust, and you wanted to express the feeling that had been weighing on you for too long now, but when his lips collided with yours and you tasted yourself, all those words got lost on his tongue exploring your mouth.

“I’ve waited so long to finally have you,” he said breathlessly against your lips. “I kept pushing back, thinking it was never the right time.”

He licked his lips, wiping off the string of saliva that connected your mouths. “When you disappeared… I thought I had lost my only chance. I’m done waiting around.”

He slowly pushed himself into you with a low groan as he felt your slickness wrap around him, and you threw your arms around his neck as you moaned into his ear.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. So tight and warm, all for me. I would stay here inside of you for a decade if I could. You feel exquisite, my love.”

He retracted himself slowly, and plunged back in with the same agonising pace, taking in the feeling of your inside. “I’ll enjoy taking my time with you; discovering what makes you tick, tease every one of your sensitive spots. But tonight — I just want this: feeling you wrapped around me and to know that I’m the reason for your unbecoming.”

His pace accelerated, each thrust of his hips brushing against your clit as your bodies almost fused as one, pushing you closer to another edge already.

A particularly well placed thrust had you dig your nails into his back and he hissed into your ear, “Darling,” he panted, “Remind me to trim your nails when we’re done.”

You quickly realised what he meant when a poignant smell, stronger than the bergamot, brandy, and rosemary you smelled on him previously, invaded your nostrils and your mouth watered in response. What you didn’t realise was how you ended up breathing down his neck, just against the popping vein conveniently displayed for you to bite down on. Just one bite away from ecstasy.

“Still hungry, little love?”

You were snapped out from your daze by his voice purring into your ear, pulling away from his neck and blinking as you gained back control of your thoughts.

“I’m— It’s just— Your blood smells really, really good.”

He chuckled, “I tend to have that effect on people. Would you like a taste?”

You forced yourself to look into his eyes, “I… Are you sure?”

He smiled, “There’s nothing I’d like more, my love.”

His gaze reflected sincerity and you gulped as you found your way back in the crook of his neck, your lips brushing against his sensitive skin. You licked the vein you had sensed earlier but didn’t push further. That’s when you felt the vibration of his chuckle, “Go on, darling. I can take it, I promise.”

With his permission, you pushed your small fangs right over the vein in his neck, relishing in the sudden flood of his crimson in your mouth.

Whatever you drank a few minutes ago was nothing compared to his blood. He was the source in a desert you had been roaming for days, one you couldn’t believe wasn't an illusion, and you drank, and drank, losing yourself in his neck, in his taste, the very essence that fueled him.

You couldn’t tell how much you had drank or how much time had passed when he growled and pinned your arms next to your head. His hips thrusting once, deeper into you and hitting your cervix is what makes you unlatch from his neck with a moan.

“I believe that’s enough, love. Now, let me taste you.”

His lips collided with yours hungrily as he increased his pace between your legs, and he groaned at the taste of himself on your lips, running his tongue across your small fangs.

“Fuck, I need you, I need to make you mine. I need—”

Something snapped within him, a side of him you couldn’t recall ever seeing — one that he could finally let go as he pushed your legs up, pinning them down across your chest and pounded deeper into you.

He growled into your ear as he desperately rutted into you, nearing the edge of his climax at the same time as yours, “I want you, I want you for the rest of our lives, please be mine, be mine, be mine!”

“I’m yours, I'm yours, I— I love you!”

You screamed as you came, his own orgasm following closely after yours, the wave of emotions clashing with the sparks of pleasure coursing throughout your body, and for a moment, you think you died and came back to life within the same minute. It was stronger than anything you remember feeling — even with your memories still scattered, you think you’d remember something as powerful.

It’s only when you came back to your senses and was met with Astarion’s soft, dumbfounded expression, that you realised what you had just said. Panic slowly made its way into your heart and you struggled to find the right words to correct yourself.

“I’m sorry— I—”

He didn’t allow you to finish that sentence, kissing you once more to steal away those thoughts of regret that faded instantly as he pulled back to speak.

“I love you too, darling.”

Your future was paved with incertitude; your memory wasn’t all there yet, but you remembered what was important for now, and if forgetting your past was the price to create new memories with him, it was a price you were willing to pay.

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

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hii! i'd like to request a one shot, if this prompt is interesting to you: when tav (he/him) romances karlach, there's a period before they can get her engine under control and they can finally touch. i feel like they would still get intimate before that--maybe with some mutual masturbation and heavy dirty talk?

thank you!

Of course this prompt is interesting to me!!!! I am a whore!!!!!

✧ ೃ༄ੈ✩ Touch | Karlach + Tav/Reader

word count: 2,982

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“Being with Karlach is not… easy. 

There’s a mutual understanding between the two of you; you’ve never said it out loud, and you probably never will, but you think you’re both on the same page: top priority – arguably even above removing the tadpoles – is fixing her engine as quickly as possible so you can finally get the relief you both crave so desperately.”

alternatively: you and karlach sneak off into the woods to do naughty stuff that involves a lot of words and a magical hand 🥴

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

✧･ﾟ: ✧ story is told in the second person POV.

✧･ﾟ: ✧ tav/reader is referred to with he/him pronouns and has male genitals.

✧･ﾟ: ✧ tav/reader is never referred to by name and y/n is never used.

✧･ﾟ: ✧ tav/reader appearance is not described. just his pp briefly.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

i am still taking fic requests! don't be scared to shoot me an ask <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Being with Karlach is not… easy. 

It’s not her fault, of course, the relationship you have with her is wonderful, but you can’t help the desperation you feel just being around her. It’s only made worse by the fact that you can’t fucking touch her.

There’s a mutual understanding between the two of you. You’ve never said it out loud and you probably never will, but you think you’re both on the same page: top priority – arguably even above removing the tadpoles – is fixing her engine as quickly as possible so you can finally get the relief you both crave so desperately.

You’re not actively thinking of this when Karlach approaches you, but it does cross your mind briefly as you look up at her from your position on the ground.

“Hey, soldier,” she says, the affection in her voice heavy, “What are you up to?”

You can’t help but admire the way she looks from this angle. The sharp, toned curves of her body are accentuated by the moonlight shining bright behind her, the ends of her dark hair barely tracing the lines of her shoulders, her arms crossed against her chest, which is glowing a soft red. You smile widely up at her.

You hold up the metal piece of armor in your hand, along with the damp rag you’ve been using to clean it, and Karlach lets out a small, “oh,” before sitting down on the ground next to you. She’s as close as she can be without touching you, so much so that you can feel the warmth radiating off of her arm and onto yours, causing your skin to tingle.

You do your best to push away the unhelpful thoughts fighting their way to your attention.

“You wanna talk?” You ask, sitting down the armor and turning yourself to face the tiefling. She smiles, nodding her head and crossing her legs. You admire the way the muscles in her arms tense as she leans back on her hands.

Now really isn’t the time, you think, and you force your eyes upwards.

You sit there, in silence, for a moment just watching the way Karlach’s chest rises and falls as she looks up at the sky. It’s a humid night, and you can see the slight glisten on the skin of her neck from the sweat. You feel yourself twitch in your pants.

Fuck.

“Do you think if I asked Gale nicely he’d do that thing again?” You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the question, and you furrow your brows in confusion.

“Thing?” You ask, “what thing?”

“The thing he did with the sky. Where he made it all wavy and colorful.” She keeps speaking, but your attention is placed firmly on the strap of her sleep shirt and where it meets her collarbone, dipping against the skin, a dull red glow showing through it. Your eyes travel along the bend of her sternum, down her stomach, tracing each and every individual indent and line.

You feel a heat build up in your stomach, and it pools for a moment before it travels downwards to your cock. Your breath catches in your throat.

It barely registers when Karlach stops speaking. You’re too focused on the exposed crease of her thigh, the way the meat of them spread against the dirt beneath her, skin deep red and fucking flawless.

You’re straining against the soft fabric of your pants, and you can feel the redness in your face making its way down your neck. Your hands itch with the urge to reach out and grab, to run your hands all over her and feel the heat of her skin against your palms. You stay completely still, fingers twitching at the thought. 

Your eyes flick up to meet hers, and there’s something different manifesting in them now. You have no idea how long the silence has been surrounding you, but it’s obvious by the look she’s giving you that she knows exactly what kind of depraved thoughts are making themselves at home in your brain right now.

You and Karlach have spoken about sex a couple of times before. Nothing in depth, but wishful conversations in one of your tents, discussing each other's likes and dislikes, what each of you were into, what you were absolutely not into. You’d had the occasional teasing while out adventuring – a stray comment with a little too much seriousness behind it, or a look after battle that made you feel like prey in the eyes of a predator – but you never actually did anything about it.

“Fuck,” she says, shifting against the ground uncomfortably, “if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something stupid.”

You let out a dry laugh at the comment, eyes still trained on hers, and an idea flashes across your mind. It’s not well thought or considered, you’ve never done anything like it before, and you’d probably even be embarrassed at the idea if you weren’t so overwhelmed with your need for something right now.

“What if,” you start, voice soft and all breath, “what if we tried something?”

Karlach’s brows furrow, “we can’t, I’ll burn you-”

“No, I mean,” you lean closer to her, so close you can practically feel the hairs on her arm brushing against your skin, “what if we, um, touched ourselves…together?”

You wince at the inelegance of the sentence, but the look that spreads across Karlach’s face wipes away any and all doubts that may have been inhabiting your mind. Her eyes are wide, her pupils blown so wide you can barely see their usual orange glow, and the skin on her cheeks is tinted a dark red, a color that travels all the way up to the pointed tips of her ears.

She bites her lip, her eyes flickering up and down the length of your body. Her hands are fisted in the dirt beneath her, and her chest is heaving as she breathes. 

“Yeah,” her voice is quiet, but you can feel the excitement dripping off her words, “yeah, okay.”

You smile wide, teeth scraping against the soft skin of your bottom lip as you pull yourself up onto your feet. You instinctively hold your hand out to Karlach, offering to help her up, and she rolls her eyes, a humorous smile spreading across her face. 

She pushes herself up into a standing position, and motions towards you, “lead the way, soldier.”

You can barely stop yourself from straight up running into the nearby forest, your excitement pounding in your chest – and pulsating in your pants. The feeling is uncomfortable, but you push through knowing that relief is right around the corner.

You lead Karlach into the forest, weaving your way between the dense trees until you come to a clearing.

It’s very dark, the only light coming from the moon shining through the leaves above you. You turn and face Karlach, and chest illuminates the area surrounding her. She looks ecstatic, her face plastered with a large smile, her body nearly bouncing with the excitement running through her. 

You approach her slowly, pushing yourself as close to her body as you can without touching, and you ghost your hand over the exposed skin of her arm. Karlach watches your hand intently, following it up along the curve of her shoulder. 

“Gods, I wish I could touch you,” your voice is desperate, a mix of pure lust and just a tinge of sadness. She smiles up at you, eyes shimmering against the blue hue of the moon.

“Shut up,” she says, voice joking – though, you can see the same desperation mirrored in her eyes. She takes a step back and begins unlacing her sleep shirt slowly, “take your clothes off.”

You snap back into reality and immediately do as you’re told, pulling off your shirt and pants rather clumsily before staring back at Karlach.

She really is fucking beautiful, you think as your eyes scan over her naked body. Karlach is all curve and muscle, her stomach flat and taut, her thighs thick, her arms toned. Her breasts fall in the perfect way against her torso, full and round and the perfect size for her. 

You let out a shaky breath at the sight, overwhelmed at the feeling that’s settling in the core of your stomach. Your cock twitches underneath your underwear, and, at this point, it’s almost painful how hard you are. All of the thoughts flowing in your head, the sight of Karlach naked in front of you, the promise of what’s to come; it’s almost too much. You feel like you’re going to explode.

You push down your underwear, your cock springing up, relieved to finally be free of its restraints, and you kick them off into the pile of clothes next to you. Karlach makes an audible noise that sends shockwaves through you at the sight of you completely exposed.

Karlach sits herself down on the forest floor, spreading her legs open – dear Gods, you’re going to have a heart attack – and patting the space between them, beckoning for you to join her.

You don’t hesitate, rushing over and falling to your knees between her legs. You can see how wet she is, the moisture reflecting the moonlight, and you can’t help the deep desire you have to just shove your dick in her and make her feel as good as possible, burns be damned. She deserves it.

You don't, though, in favor of keeping the feeling in your member, and instead opt to admire her without touch. 

“You’re so big,” she says, voice deep, words almost unintelligible. She spreads her legs apart wider, hands resting on her lower stomach, as she maintains eye contact with you. Her eyes are lidded, pupils consuming the entirety of her iris’, and her bottom lip is kept firmly between her teeth.

“I bet you would fill me up in the best of ways, lover,” her eyes shut, her head falling back against the ground, and her hair makes a halo around her head as it spreads across the dirt. Some of it gets caught against her horns and brushes across her face in a way that frames it perfectly.

Her voice dances through your ears, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin, and you just can’t help yourself anymore. You reach down, wrapping your hand around your shaft, and begin moving in a slow, oscillating pattern. You exhale, not even realizing that you had been holding your breath, as you begin to build a rhythm.

“Gods, I would,” you stop, catching your breath before restarting, “I would fuck you until you couldn’t think of anything but me.”

Karlach lets out a soft noise, one of her hands moving from its position on her stomach downward. You follow it with your eyes, watching as she begins to rub small circles against her clit, quiet moans building up into something more real as she does so. 

“I’d like to think I’d be slow with it,” you continue, the sight of Karlach pleasuring herself only spurring you on, “I would kiss every inch of your body to make up for when I couldn’t. I would, – fuck – I would taste you until I suffocated.”

Karlach interrupts you with a loud moan, fingers moving faster against the bundle of nerves. Her back arches into her own touch, and her other arm flings up and over her face, hiding her eyes. Your grip around your cock tightens, and the pace of the strokes quicken at the sight. The dark red blush that originally flattered her face has spread down to her chest, speckling her shoulders, and every moment you stare at her just urges you closer to touch, touch, touch.

“I couldn’t control myself, though,” your voice is rough, more of a groan than anything, words slurring together, “I’d probably just fuck into you the first chance I got, have you screaming on my cock, begging for more and more of me until you just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Karlach is completely blissed out beneath you, hand jutting clumsily back and forth against herself, her other balled in a tight fist near her head. You can tell, quite obviously, that she is really enjoying this. She’s breathing heavily, moaning and gasping, her muscles in her legs and stomach flexed tight.

A thought crosses your mind, and it catches you so off guard that you let out a sudden, loud laugh. The idea is silly, sure, but something about it causes the pleasure in your stomach to build.

You could make Karlach feel good.

Karlach’s arm moves from over her eyes, her hand faltering a bit as she looks up at you, confused at the sudden noise. You give her a large smile, removing your hand from your dick and focusing your intent for a moment, eyes shut, before a life-sized blue hand manifests in-between the two of you.

Karlach’s mouth falls open in realization, her hand stopping completely. She stares for a moment, dumbstruck, before opening her mouth to speak. Before she can get a single word out, you will the hand towards her, its fingers gently caressing the inner portion of her thigh.

The wind is knocked out of her at this, and she lets out a desperate sound at the sudden touch. You can’t help the self-assured smirk that settles on your face as you move the hand in, brushing it’s fingers against hers before pressing two of it’s fingertips teasingly against her entrance.

Her whole body burns red.

“Would you like that, sweetheart?” Your hand finds its way back to your cock, tugging in slow strokes. You let your body fall forward, putting your weight on your free hand as you hover close over Karlach, careful not to touch her. Your face is so close to hers, you can feel the heat emanating from her skin, and it sends shivers down your spine.

Karlach’s hand resumes rubbing small, rough circles against her clit, her eyes locked. 

“Would you like being so full of me you can’t think of anything else?” You can feel the heat building in your stomach as you listen and watch the pleasure completely take over your lover, climbing towards your climax abruptly. You do your best to hold back, and the hand pushes its fingers inside of Karlach. Her eyes fall shut and her head tips back, mouth hanging open at the feeling.

The fingers begin a slow pace, pumping in and out of her, causing her to arch further upward. Her hand quickens its assault against her core, and her breath hastens, blowing warm against your face. The fingers speed up inside her, curling upwards against a spot that makes her practically purr beneath you, and you can feel your climax approaching rapidly.

You take in the sight, the animalistic nature of Karlach completely enraptured by pleasure beneath you, her body shaking. You look down, between the two of you, and you admire the glowing, blue hand fucking into her relentlessly, her body pressing down to meet it’s thrusts, and you just can’t take it anymore.

You nearly burst apart as you cum, your arm trembling under the weight of your body, and your seed shooting across the plane of Karlach’s stomach up onto her chest. The mage hand falters a bit inside her at the lack of concentration, and she pouts, a deep whine resonating in her chest. You quickly resume the persistent rhythm, your eyes flickering back up to watch her face as it twists with pleasure.

Every moan that falls out of her mouth is more intense than the last, every thrust bringing her closer and closer to her peak. Her eyes are screwed shut, her brows furrowed deeply, her mouth hanging slightly open, and you are just in awe. Everything about her is calling to you: the way she looks, her sounds, her heat.

She opens her eyes and looks at you, a desperate “don’t you dare fucking stop,” falls from her mouth, muddled between moans and sharp breaths. She’s close, you can tell by the way she’s breathing, by the way her hand clumsily slides against her soaking wet crux, desperate for relief.

You don’t know what comes over you, maybe your brain is completely clouded by the ethereal sight beneath you, or maybe it’s the weeks of desperation that have built up finally overflowing, but you lean in, pressing your lips against Karlach’s intensely as she reaches her apex.

Her lips burn against yours, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away, relishing in the feeling of finally – fucking finally – being able to kiss her properly. The kiss is sloppy, the way your tongue slides against hers is messy and awkward, but you don’t even care. She cries into your mouth as she comes, the fire in her chest the brightest you’ve ever seen it, and you concentrate as well as you can on stopping the motions of the mage hand.

You stay there for a moment, Karlach breathing heavily against you, mouths pressed together in a perfect moment that’s been a long time coming. You want to hold her, to reach out and feel every part of her against the palms of your hands, but before you can commit to it, she pushes at your shoulder, the fire burning into your skin.

You pull away, immediately feeling the aching burn in your lips, and sit back on your knees. Karlach’s chest is rising and falling heavily, and despite the pain, you take a moment to fully appreciate how utterly fucked out she looks.

“That was,” her voice is barely a whisper, “really good. The ending was stupid on your part but… fuck. Thank you.” 

She smiles up at you, wide and happy, her eyes full of affection.

Your heart skips a beat.

This woman is going to kill you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

cross-posted on:

──★ archiveofourown

──★ wattpad

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I am currently looking for beta readers and editors for my fics! i cannot pay you for this job, but i can give u access to my super cool discord server - full of BG3 and DND nerds - where you will get the coveted "buzz's beta" role. please, shawty, i'm desperate!

if you are interested in doing this please shoot me a message, either here or over on discord (username: buzzbey#4141 [case sensitive!]).

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

daddy!karlach x pillowprincess!reader blurb

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

cw : afab reader , usage of ‘cock’ , daddy kink , dom & sub dynamics, dumbification, degrading (?), slight breeding kink, implied consent ( subspace from reader ).

karlach cooing at you as you take her cock , brushing away little tears from your face with her thumb. the other hand is firmly grasped on your hip — shoving you down further and further until you’ve taken her all the way.

all the while she just

‘ i know it’s so big princess , but look how good you take daddy’s cock. look at that little bulge in your tummy, princess you’re doing so well. shh , let daddy use you like you’re meant to be used . ’

as you whimper , cry , blubber , beg . but you’re not sure what you’re begging for. for her to stop? gods no. for more? maybe. your poor little head couldn’t comprehend thoughts , &. that’s where daddy had to step in & make that decision for you.

karlach who tells you

‘ princess , daddy knows that cute little brain is so empty. i’ll take care of you, let daddy fill you up. that’s what you need princess. ’

as you begin chasing your high, she pushes her thumb against your clit — moving it in agonizing circles, bringing you further and further to the edge .

her body shifts, pinning you under her within the blink of an eye . shoving your thighs over your shoulders, cooing at your delectable squeals at the position . her cock shoving in so far , you’re sure that your walls would be aching for weeks . but that didn’t matter .

not when karlach folded your body in half , calling you a good girl - princess - baby - bunny . not when she snapped her hand up to capture both of your wrists above your head .

&. especially not when her strap spilled cum into you —— creating an even bigger bulge in your tummy.

‘ see what happens when you let daddy think for you? ’

Penance

A Dame Aylin/Isobel/Sharran!Tav fic

thinking abt baby trapping gale dekarios </3

gale n my durge tav <3 🐶

full nsfw version here

Please consider reblogging!

🩸 Announcing: Astarion’s Thirst Collection! 🩸

Calling all Astarion fans! If you've been waiting for a place to showcase (or enjoy) thirst for our favorite vampire in both his ascended and unascended forms, I've created the Astarion’s Thirst collection on AO3. 😈 Whether it’s sensual, dark, explicit, or anywhere in between, this collection is for those of us who appreciate the steamy and seductive sides of Astarion! 💋

🔞 Details:

Mature and Explicit works are welcome!

Sensual works, dark romance, dubious consent, and kinks are all accepted (just make sure to tag properly).

OC x Astarion, Tav x Astarion, or even solo explorations of Astarion's thirst—all ships welcome! 🍷

Exploitative content on Astarion’s trauma might not fit, so contact me if you're unsure.

📌 Ascended or unascended, both are welcome! Join here and DM me if you have questions. If you are interested in having your work added to this collection, please feel free to just add yourself! I might also request invitations of works I think would be great but let me know what you guys think! Please consider reblogging to get the word out! Update: Ao3 guide on how to add your work to this collection!

To add your own work to someone else's collection:

Select the "Edit" button from the work's page, and scroll down to the "Associations" section.

Enter the collection name in the "Post to Collections / Challenges" field. You can start entering the collection's name, and the autocomplete list will populate with collections you can choose from. You can add the same work to multiple collections. For us its Astarion Thirst (Astarion_Thirst). It might take a bit of loading but it will show up (Yes, there is no 's)

Select "Post" to apply your changes.

If the collection is unmoderated or you're a member of the collection, your work will be immediately added to it. (Thats us!)

Thank you! Astarion Thirst is now the Largest AO3 Collection specific for our Vampire

This is a huge thank you to the community for rocking the shit out in 2 days!!! To get this collection to nearly 108 Collected works and nearly 60 bookmarks! Bookmarks were *recommended to me by people contacting me to add certain fics, or notify their authors*! Its amazing how much there is out there I have never seen and now, we have a place where everyone can go to, to check it out.

Also I will begin featuring fics on my blog on tumblr every other Sunday! first one coming tomorrow. These will be *completely at random* irrespective of size or following. Please check out the collection and read to your hearts content

Watch this space in the future with this banner for recommended fics from our collection. -Bella (Collection Curator)

🩸 Astarion’s Thirst Collection: Featured Works! 🩸

Welcome to the Astarion’s Thirst Collection spotlight, where we randomly feature incredible works that have been added to the collection or bookmarked by recommendation. No duplicate works, as we aim to highlight authors of all kinds within this community and multiple fics! Whether your story is part of the collection or has been recommended, if you see your work here, feel free to add it to the collection or reach out with any questions. Posting: Every Other Sunday

Catalogue Tags: AA: Ascended Astarion UA: Unascended Astarion

1. Forms of Imprisonment: @selunesdreams Read here Lore-heavy, great clear writer. I adore the focus on the slow burn, slow build, and the interplay between the two MCs. (UA) One Liner: Astarion searches the Waterdeep library for leads on a rumored daylight ring, only to become captivated by its overnight archivist.

2. Sweet Dreams, Darling: @deadly-diminuendo Read here Quick and dirty, yes some may take issue with this particular kink but we don't yuck other people's yums up in here. I do believe this is deliciously erotic. (UA) One Liner: An evening spent reading a racy romance novel awakens a fantasy you never knew you had. The thought of your sleeping body becoming a thing to be used for someone else's pleasure brings you an unexpected thrill.

3. Just to be Sure: @ghostfire Read here Short one, this. Kinky, blood kink and breeding kink. Need I say more? Well-written and cheeky. (UA) One Liner: "Ovulating all by yourself, beautiful?" meme.

4. I will never deserve you, but stay anyways: joy_no_killjoy Read here Longer and completed fic! This one is a lovely intimate exploration with smut, but I appreciated the unique take on an AA fic for this one. Softer AA, transformed. (AA) One Liner: As Xalena recovers from her near-death experience, she notices Astarion isn't quite the bloodthirsty tyrant she assumed he would become. Is it possible that the man she used to love is still there? A dangerous thought for a dangerous man.

5. Hunger is Satisfaction: CountTavula Read here Dubious consent and outright warnings apply! Darker descent for our AA here. Interesting take on the larger vampire world and the destiny of the Ascendant. (AA) One Liner: An explicit narrative exploring the Ascendant's all-consuming affections with a bit of angsty plot to tie it together.

Stay tuned for more random features from our beloved Astarion’s Thirst Collection! If you see your work and haven't added it to the collection, feel free to reach out or add it! 🖤

-Bella (Collection Curator)

Chapter 15: A hunger crueler than bloodlust

Previously: Prologue Tumblr Link for Prologue, Chapter One; Chapter Two, Chapter 3, Interlude Chapter 4 Chapter 5, Chapter 6 Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Interlude 2 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 , Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. NSFW, Ethical and non Ethical BDSM, noncon, some allusions to sexual violence, flashbacks to sexual violence, discussions of sexual violence, dubious boundaries, attempted sexual violence, dubcon, blood licking/blood kink, reference to cheating behavior, emotional trauma, group sex, sex, smutt, anxiety, negative thinking, sexual trauma, recovery, healing, angst,

Word count: 116k

Warning: SMUTT, Heavy BDSM Play!

Status: Ongoing

Chapter 16: Oct 2 2024

Song of the Hour:

Red Room - Bryce Savage

Entire Story Link on AO3 Spotify Playlist AO3

After the Cut!

Chapter 15: A hunger crueler than bloodlust

Astarion led Sima through the grand halls of his palace, the air thick with a quiet urgency. Vampires flitted about like shadows, their presence a mere whisper against the ancient stone. Their eyes flicked toward him in deference, but they lingered on Sima, drawn to her like lost souls hungering for the light. Curiosity simmered beneath their gazes, envy curling like smoke. And in some, something far darker stirred—a longing to possess what they dared not approach. Sima stood out, a jewel in their midst, glowing against the cold, pale hues of the vampire nobility.

Astarion, acutely aware of the eyes on them, moved with deliberate grace, as though the palace itself bent to his will. Every glance cast her way only strengthened his resolve. She was his now—part of this empire, whether she realized it yet or not. Each step was regal, his posture composed, betraying none of the urgency thrumming beneath his calm exterior. The palace was his stage, and he was its ruling actor, commanding every glance and whispered breath. His power was absolute, and yet, tonight, he sought something more. He wanted her to see it all, not just his dominion—he’d give her this world. But the final say would always be his

Through winding corridors and hidden passages, Astarion revealed the full extent of his reach. Beneath the city, his network of spies slithered through the Under City’s labyrinthine tunnels, gathering secrets only a vampire lord could possess. They passed vaults lined with glittering treasures—gold, jewels, artifacts from centuries past—proof of his wealth and influence over the nobility of Baldur’s Gate. He painted vivid portraits of their future with words laced in silk, of ruling together, their “benevolent” reign absolute. Yet, his crimson eyes sought hers often, the charm on his lips masking a deeper hope for approval.

As the evening darkened, Astarion’s touch lingered when he brushed Sima’s hair aside, his fingers grazing the curve of her neck, a deliberate tease. "The night wanes, my sweet," he purred, that velvet tone steeped in rich intent. "Shall I show you the rest of what belongs to me?"

A quiet chuckle slipped past his lips as he led her toward his private chambers, away from prying eyes and the reach of judgment. This, above all, was his sanctuary. Here, behind these walls, he could indulge the desires he had kept locked away from the world. He wanted her to see everything—the things no one else had ever been allowed to witness.

Sima’s eyes sparkled with amusement, her lips twisting into a knowing smirk. “Another bedchamber? What makes this one worth the theatrics?”

Astarion’s smile widened, wicked and familiar, his pale lips curling with rakish charm. The same smile that had seduced countless others before her, though none had ever stirred him the way she did. “Nothing… save for what unfolds here.” He whispered in lustful and dulcet murmurs. 

He pushed open the door, revealing a room steeped in sin. Opulence cloaked in debauchery, indulgence disguising the darker truth—that every inch of it was designed to demand obedience. The crimson velvet bed gleamed under the dim light, framed by gold-threaded pillows. Black silk curtains wrapped the room in shadow, cutting them off from the world beyond. The walls, adorned with hedonistic murals, whispered of forbidden pleasures, and along the edges of the room hung the tools of indulgence—restraints, whips, and finely crafted toys, each piece as exquisite as it was dangerous.

Astarion’s gaze never left her as she took in the sight. The pride in his smile was unmistakable. He had always delighted in the dramatic, but this room—this sanctuary of decadence—was the purest manifestation of his desires. “I thought it was time I had a proper playroom,” he said, his voice carrying a thread of amusement, but beneath it lay something deeper, hungrier. “No more hiding in caves. This is my domain now, and nothing here is out of reach. Including you.”

Sima stepped into the room, her fingers trailing over the silk sheets, feeling the cool, luxurious fabric beneath her fingertips. She had seen many sides of him before, but this... this felt like stepping into the core of who Astarion truly was—a place where control, desire, and power fused into one. Even as she let him lead, there was a thrill in knowing she could still say no. She let out a soft laugh, her fingers brushing against the silk restraints on the bedposts. “I see you’ve expanded your collection.”

Astarion’s smirk grew, his gaze flickering over her with palpable hunger. “I have,” he purred. “No more limits. No more hiding. Only indulgence.” His eyes lingered on the violet and gold fabric of her embroidered blouse, the way it hugged her figure, laying beautifully against her rich brown skin. “Nothing I will deny myself.”

She met his gaze, her dark ringlets cascading down her back as she leaned against the bedpost, fully aware of the effect her presence had on him. She could see it in the way his breath caught, how his crimson eyes roamed over her, momentarily lost in the sight. In this moment, she held a kind of power over him, one that made her burn with satisfaction. 

He moved behind her, his hands sliding over her shoulders, tracing the curve of her spine before pulling her flush against him. His breath, hot against her ear, made her shudder. "You're a vision… a masterpiece," he whispered, voice a low, dangerous growl. His crimson eyes gleamed with hunger. "The things I could do to you… they’re endless."

Sima locked eyes with him, her own gaze bold and teasing. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Astarion’s pulse quickened, a fierce, unrelenting desire surging through him. She awakened something in him, something that had lain dormant for centuries. The challenge in her eyes only stoked the fire inside him. His hands tightened on her waist as he leaned down, his lips grazing her neck. “Nothing… nothing but permission,” he whispered, his voice thick with unslaked lust.

Sima’s eyes fluttered shut, the tremor of his touch sending a pulse of heat through her, awakening something wild and untamed beneath the surface. His fingers traced the open back of her blouse, teasing her skin with each light touch. “Total permission? Is that what you want?” she asked, her voice breathless, knowing full well the answer.

Astarion’s lips hovered near her ear. 'Absolute and utter submission,' he whispered.

Astarion eased back just enough to catch her gaze, his smile darkening as a wolfish hunger flickered in his eyes. “You’ve no idea what you’ve set free,” he whispered like a dangerous caress.

Sima’s confidence never wavered. She met his gaze, her voice a daring whisper. “Show me. You have my permission.”

Astarion surged forward, as his body crashed against her and devoured her lips. His hands curled possessively around the small of her back, pulling her flush against him as his other hand tangled in her hair. The kiss was fierce, a collision of need and power, as his tongue sought hers, and together, they fell into the heat of their connection.

Sima moaned softly into his kiss, her body pressing against his, the heat of her desire burning through her. Her fingers raked across his chest, nails grazing his skin as she reveled in the feel of his taut muscles beneath her touch.

Astarion's breath hitched as he ripped the blouse away from her body, the fabric falling to the floor in a forgotten heap. He took his time undoing her slacks, savoring the moment, the anticipation building between them like a coiled spring ready to snap. She broke from his kiss, her lips trailing down his jawline, nipping playfully at his throat. Her own hands making quick work of his finery.

He growled softly, a low sound of approval, as his hands found the waistband of her pants. With one smooth motion, he slid them down her legs, his lips brushing against the curve of her hip as she arched into him, her body bending under his touch.

Astarion’s body burned and ached with a fever at her touch. Sima's hands moved across his back, her soft moans filling the air between them even as her hands found the ridges of his old scars. Her touch was fire, branding him, marking him as hers. He reveled in the feel of her beneath him, her body yielding to his as he pushed her back onto the bed.

Sima collapsed onto the silk sheets, her breath quickening in shallow bursts. Her gaze flicked to the restraints waiting for her, anticipation coiling in her gut. Red ropes, tied neatly to the four bedposts, awaited their turn. Her eyes locked with his as she lay there; her dark, mahogany skin gleaming in the dim light and her curves a delightful sight.

Her voice was a soft whisper, filled with challenge and desire, as she looked up at him. "Play with me?"

For the briefest of moments, Astarion’s crimson eyes flickered, though he quickly mastered his expression. The surge of excitement her words evoked threatened to surface, but he reined it in. This was a game, yes—but a dangerous one, and she had given herself so easily. His hand moved to trace the curve of her breasts, fingers lingering on the soft swell as he leaned down to breathe the next words out as a wanton hiss,

"Play, my darling? Oh, I intend to do far more than that tonight."

Sima moaned softly against his mouth, biting down on his lower lip as his hand latched around her breasts and his fingers expertly pinching her nipples. A mounting desire rose between them, her impatience growing as she ground her hips against his body. Would he tie her up? Blindfold her? Punish her? Her mind raced with anticipation, even as his kisses deepened, stoking the fire between them.

Astarion knew it was time to test her limits. He wanted to see just how far she’d let him push this. His hands moved with expert precision as he captured her wrists, binding them behind her back with the soft red ropes. She couldn’t escape now, her hands rendered completely useless. He stepped back, admiring his work with satisfaction before leaning in once more, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered in her ear.

"You're such a good girl, Sima. Such a beautiful, good girl, just the way I like you..."

Sima’s back arched, her dark ringlets spilling down her shoulders, framing her face as her body lay exposed—vulnerable, yet unyielding in its submission. The silk ropes around her wrists held firm, not too tight yet secure enough to remind her that escape was not an option. He fisted his hand into her hair, tugging her head back sharply, eliciting a gasp before he threw her back against the bed. Her legs were still unbound, and the only barrier between her and his lustful intent was the fragile black thong she wore.

Astarion didn’t hesitate. His hands explored her body with reverence, savoring every curve, every inch of her warm mahogany skin beneath his fingers. His lips grazed her ear, his breath a hot whisper. “You’re exquisite… I can barely imagine how divine you’ll be as a vampire. The deep brown of your skin, those perfect curls… utterly irresistible.”

The hunger in his voice was palpable, a deep, consuming desire that drove him to the edge of control. In one swift motion, he tore her thong away, leaving her utterly bare before him. Her legs were pulled back and tied to the bedposts, her wrists now secured above her head as he adjusted the ropes with deliberate care. Sima was spread open for him, a vision of raw, unrestrained desire. Astarion couldn’t help but smile, admiring the sight of her vulnerable and exposed.

There was nothing else but surrender left at this moment. She lay stretched across the bed, every stretch of soft flesh exposed in a way that made her heart race. Her wrists pulled against the ropes, testing their give. Even tied, she still had power in the way her hips arched into his touch, the way she forced him to wait. 

Sima’s gaze met his, as he hovered over her, his expression dark with hunger that went far beyond mere need. He loomed over her like an artist before his masterpiece, preparing to shape her as he saw fit. She gave herself so willingly—far too easily for it to be real submission, he thought.

Astarion’s grin widened as he took in the sight of her, helpless and at his mercy, bound and ready for his pleasure. Her body was his to mold, and he reveled in it. Leaning down, he began to work her breasts with expert hands, caressing, kneading, and pinching the sensitive flesh, coaxing soft moans and whimpers from her lips. His mouth followed, tongue tracing her skin down her body, teasing her until she squirmed beneath him, utterly his.

Sima gasped as his tongue flicked between her thighs, her body arching as his hands continued their teasing play with her breasts. She glanced down the length of her body, watching him, her hands tied and helpless to stop the teasing assault. The torment of it—the way he brought her so close, only to pull away—left her breathless with frustration and want.

Astarion watched her closely, delighting in her every reaction. He reveled in the control he had over her, to make her beg for him. To him, it was all a dark performance—one he had perfected over centuries. And now, he was playing it out with the woman he desired more than any other.

With each soft moan that escaped her lips, he kissed them away, his teeth grazing her skin as mouth grew more demanding. His hands returned to her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples with more intensity, watching with satisfaction as her body shuddered beneath him. She was so sensitive, so eager for him.

Astarion growled, low and seductive, the heat in his voice meant only for her. His hands moved lower, sliding up and down her thighs, teasing her with every pass, his fingers brushing ever so close to her clit before pulling away again. The evidence of her desire was clear on her slick skin, a testament to the power he held over her.

"Look at you..." he purred, his eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "My perfect little slut. Filthy, aren’t you? But only ever for me."

Sima’s breath hitched as his fingers brushed her tender core, her body trembling. Caught by surprise she gasped as he hoisted her legs higher in the ropes, leaving her even more exposed. Astarion’s hand came down with a sharp slap against her ass, the sting making her body jolt, a sharp cry escaping her lips.

"Yes..." she breathed, her voice shaky with anticipation. "I like being yours."

Astarion’s eyes darkened with pleasure at her words, and he slapped her again, harder this time, watching as she groaned and hissed, stifling a moan. Power surged through him—intoxicating, undeniable—but it was her willing submission that felt like the ultimate triumph. He leaned in close and deeply commanded her, as the breath on his lips caressed her skin.

"Like being mine? Say it and mean it Sima. ‘I love being yours.’"

Her mind swam as she felt the power of his compulsion wash over her, her eyes glowing violet under the influence of his command. Her voice was soft, sultry, as she repeated the words, her tone mimicking his.

"I love being yours..."

Astarion’s hesitated a moment, taking in the look of her pure surrender. Then, as he snapped back into himself, his fangs grazed her neck as he released her from the spell, allowing her will to return. He craved her true submission, her real consent—but the echo of his whispered command still lingered in her mind, making the drip between her legs poor even more.

Sima blinked, momentarily disoriented, but as she looked up at him, tied and bound, her lips curled into a smile. She bit her lip as she watched him, blood still staining his mouth, the deep red glow of the room framing the scene in a perfect tableau of their shared depravity. He turned away, walking toward the wall of toys, a display of his intent that made her pulse quicken with excitement. She smirked as she observed him, like a curator selecting his favorite piece* “Well look who's so utterly satisfied with himself…” Her bratty tone mixed with the thrill of her desire.

Astarion grinned as he glanced back at her, his fingers trailing over the various implements hanging on the wall. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he considered his options, finally selecting a medium-sized paddle. He turned back toward her, his voice thick with amusement.

"Tell me... do you have a preference?" he asked, his voice teasing. "You've always been so good with your toys and playmates. Let me know what you want to explore. Let's have some fun, shall we?"

Sima’s eyes followed him closely, her breath hitching as he traced his fingers over the floggers and paddles. Her gaze lingered on the paddle in his hand, her body tensing with anticipation. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to ask for it.

"Please," she breathed, her voice dripping with both defiance and mocking submission. "I've been bad... I need to be spanked."

Astarion’s eyes lit up with delight at her challenge, savoring the bratty spark in her gaze. He could never resist that rebellious streak in her. With a wicked grin, he raised the paddle and brought it down with a sharp crack across her rear.

Sima’s body jerked in response, a cry escaping her lips as the pain seared through her, mingling with the intense pleasure that coursed through her veins. The sting left her trembling, her body arching toward him as her desire grew with every passing moment.

Astarion took his time, relishing each reaction, watching her with the intensity of a wolf cornering a fawn. Again and again, the paddle came down, each strike landing on fresh skin, painting her rear in a deep maroon hue, darker than the red of the ropes that bound her.

She groaned, her breath coming in ragged gasps as her hands tightened around the ropes. Her body arched with each strike, the mixture of pain and pleasure building into an unbearable tension. Every time the paddle connected with her skin, a new wave of sensation washed over her, each one more intense than the last. Her dark brown eyes fluttered shut as the dampness between her thighs grew. The sensation of his marks, left behind on Sima began an addicting ache.  

Astarion was relentless, his strikes precise, his pace measured. He alternated the force and location of each hit, aiming deliberately toward the most sensitive spots—just above her clit, along her inner thighs—drawing out sharp yelps of rapture from Sima. Her body writhed beneath him, unable to escape the onslaught, her need palpable as the tension coiled tighter within her.

Her breath hitched as his hand slipped between her legs, his fingers brushing over her slick folds, teasing her mercilessly. The soft sounds of her soaked skin filled the room, a testament to the control he held over her. Every inch of her was his, and she couldn’t deny how much she craved this.

"You're such a filthy little thing," he murmured, completely wanton. "You love it when I make you beg, don't you?"

Sima whimpered, her body trembling as his fingers danced across her swollen bud, her hips bucking involuntarily toward his touch. She was so close now, the tension building into something almost unbearable, her need for release overwhelming every other thought in her mind. The torrent of feeling across her skin, left her only able to frantically nod. 

Astarion’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction at her confession, his fingers sliding inside her now, curling just right to hit that hidden spot within her. He watched with dark delight as her body responded to him, her moans growing louder, her thighs quivering with every movement. His voice dropped to a growl as he spoke again, his breath hot against her ear.

"Come for me, Sima… Prove just how much you crave being mine."

Sima’s body tensed at his command, the words pushing her over the edge. Her back arched off the bed, her breath catching as her orgasm crashed over her in a wave of heat and ecstasy. She cried out his name, her body shaking as she came hard, her core tightening around his fingers, pulling him deeper into her.

Astarion watched her with wanton craving, savoring the sight of her falling apart beneath him. His own desire surged as he felt her body convulse with pleasure, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she rode out the last waves of her climax. He pulled his fingers out of her slowly, bringing them to his lips and tasting her juices with a wicked grin.

"You taste delicious," he murmured, a mix of potent lust and longing. "But don’t think we’re done, my love. The night is still young, and I’m far from satisfied."

Sima lay sprawled across the bed, her body slack in the ropes, her breath coming in soft, uneven pants. Her skin was flushed, glistening with sweat, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. But as she looked up at him, the gleam in her eyes hadn’t faded. If anything, it had only grown stronger.

"Don’t waste another minute then" she whispered, her voice still tinged with defiance despite the exhaustion in her limbs. "Show me."

As Sima squirmed beneath him, her breath coming in ragged gasps, Astarion leaned over, his lips pressing softly against her neck. He trailed kisses and licks along her flushed skin, savoring the heat she exuded. His fingers slipped between her thighs, teasing her slick folds, the wetness greeting him with a surge of desire. He smirked against her skin, feeling the tremble of her body under his touch.

Her cries grew louder as his fingers found her aching bud, relentlessly teasing her as she gasped his name. Sima was oversensitive and he knew it. Her deep brown eyes locked with his crimson gaze, full of unspoken pleas. Every brush of his fingers coaxed her closer to the edge, the pressure within her building, her body trembling with the promise of release.

Sima’s hips bucked desperately against his hand, her need palpable as she sought more—harder, deeper. She was so close now, her body tightening with every stroke, her voice breaking with frustration and desire. Astarion watched her with a hunter’s focus, his own desire barely contained as he relished in her vulnerability, in the power he held over her pleasure.

"Tell me what you want, darling," he whispered, his voice a low growl, laced with dark intent. His breath was hot against her ear as his fingers continued their relentless teasing, drawing her closer to that sweet oblivion. "Let me hear it, and I’ll give you everything."

Her voice broke into a desperate whimper, her body shaking with need as she bucked harder against his fingers. "Harder..." she gasped, defiance edging her voice. "And tell me those dirty things I love."

Astarion chuckled softly, amused and aroused by her defiance. His fingers moved faster, the pressure growing more insistent as he leaned closer, his breath sending electric shocks through her. His whispers turned filthy, each word dripping with condescension and desire, feeding the fire that burned within her. He reveled in her submission, the way she squirmed beneath him, her body completely at his mercy.

"Such a good little whore," he whispered darkly, his voice thick with lust. "You love it, don’t you? Being mine... utterly helpless."

Sima groaned in response, arching off the bed as his degrading words washed over her. Her ringlets spilled over her face as she bucked harder, grinding against his hand, desperate for more. His fingers matched the frantic rhythm of her hips, bringing her closer to the edge with every stroke, keeping her teetering on the precipice of pleasure.

Astarion watched her closely, his crimson eyes gleaming with pride and hunger as her body trembled beneath him. He pushed two fingers inside her, curling them expertly to hit that hidden spot that made her gasp. His whispers continued, taunting her with promises of more until she couldn’t take it anymore.

"Is that it?" he murmured, his voice a tantalizing tease. "Is that the kind of filth you crave? I can make you feel so much more, Sima... just tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll show you everything."

Her body shook with need, her frustration evident as she begged for more. "Yes... please..." she gasped, her voice trembling. "Keep calling me names..."

Astarion smirked, loving the way she begged, the way she writhed beneath his control. His voice was a dark whisper in her ear as he continued his filthy endearments.

"Such a good little slut," he purred. "You’re mine, Sima... always mine."

The words pushed her over the edge. Her body tensed, her hips lifting off the bed as her core clenched around his fingers. Her climax crashed over her like a tidal wave, her cries filling the room as her body shuddered with the force of her release. Her head fell back against the pillow, her body trembling as she surrendered to the tremors radiating through her.

Astarion drank in the sight of her with pride and wanton greed. The sound of her moans, the way her body moved beneath him, sent a surge of satisfaction through him. He pulled his fingers from her slowly, this time bringing them to her own lips to coat them in her slick. 

Sima lay slack in the ropes, her skin glistening with sweat, her breath coming in soft pants. She watched him through half-lidded eyes, her body still pulsing with the remnants of pleasure. A soft whimper escaped her as his fingers made her taste her own spent desire.

For a fleeting moment, the familiar arrogance ebbed, replaced by something deeper—something tender. His smile lingered, though softer now, a trace of genuine pleasure in his eyes. His voice dropped to a near whisper, reverent in its softness.

"Such a good girl..."

The words barely left his lips before he leaned down, his mouth capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as he savored the taste. The plush drag of their mouths full of heat and longing, as if neither of them could get enough of the other.

Sima pulled against the red ropes that ensnared her. Leaning forward with her body as she ached, to hold him, but the restraints kept her bound. She whined softly as he shifted on top of her, his stiff, unspent cock sliding against her folds languidly.

Astarion ran his fingers through her wild curls, his gaze never leaving hers. In that moment, something stirred deep within him—something more than lust, more than the thrill of conquest. It was a connection, a sense of completion that he hadn’t felt in centuries. It unsettled him, but he couldn’t deny it.

He leaned in closer, teasing her entrance with the head of his cock, and a soft whimper escaped his darling’s lips as the restraints prevented her from wrapping her legs around him as she craved. Desperation edged her voice as she pressed her lips against his ear, her breath warm, thick with need.

“I want you… fill me.”

Astarion’s restraint shattered in an instant. Her words, dripping with raw longing and insatiable hunger, stripped away his usual poise. His ruby eyes blazed with an uncontainable need as he thrust into her with a single, powerful stroke. His lips crashed against hers in a bruising kiss. Each flick of his tongue a promise that he would not stop until he had consumed her completely, until her pleasure had devoured them both.

Sima groaned deeply, the ropes biting into her skin as she pulled against them, her body desperate to move with him, to wrap herself around him and pull him even deeper. When he pushed all the way to the hilt, her inner walls fluttered and her throat caught before he began thrusting at a primal pace. Each collision of their bodies burned a fervor  under her skin that only grew with each stroke. Their mouths remained locked, her tongue flicking against his fangs until she tasted the sharp tang of blood on his lips. The blood only fueled the fire between them, heightening every sensation, every thrust, every kiss.

For Astarion, this was the pinnacle of everything he had ever wanted. She, who was always so strong, now lay utterly helpless, surrendered to him, completely at his mercy. His hands gripped the sheets, his jaw clenched as his lips moved feverishly from hers to her neck, down to her collarbone. Everywhere he touched her, he claimed her, his desire raw and unrelenting.

His usual cool demeanor had long since vanished, replaced by a frenzied, animalistic rhythm. He kissed her hungrily, savoring the taste of her blood mixed with the sweet scent of her skin, his fingers digging into her flesh as he drove into her harder, faster, losing himself completely in the heat of their connection. Every moan, every gasp, every roll of her hips sent him closer to the brink, her body a perfect vessel for his darkest desires.

Sima whimpered against his mouth, her body moving with his in perfect, desperate harmony. Each thrust filled her so completely, stretching her to the point where it felt like she might shatter. Her core tightened around him, her hips bucking wildly as she felt herself teetering on the edge, the pleasure building, consuming her with each passing second. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her body undulating with the frantic rhythm they had created. She bit down on his lip, hard, drawing more blood as her moans softened into breathless gasps, his name spilling from her lips like a prayer.

Astarion’s hand moved to her throat, gripping it just enough to hold her steady as he kissed her deeply. Her moans, her whimpers, the way her silken vise gripped him so tightly—it was all too much. The pleasure surged through him, driving him into a frenzied rhythm, his every thrust pushing them both closer to oblivion.

Sima’s soft, desperate voice broke through the haze, her moan vibrating against his lips. "With me? Gods... I’m close..."

Her words shattered the last vestiges of his control. Astarion’s breath hitched, his body moving faster, his thrusts harder, more frantic as he pushed even deeper into her, hitting that hidden trigger inside her with precision. 

"Yes... yes... yes..." he panted, his voice raw and desperate, each thrust sending them both hurtling toward their shared release.

Sima’s body arched off the bed as she cried out Astarion’s name as she broke against her own peak. Her core tightened around him, milking him with each tight flutter and her body trembling uncontrollably beneath his. Each wave of pleasure left her gasping for breath. For a moment, it felt like she was suspended in free fall, her mind blissfully empty, consumed entirely by the pleasure he had coaxed from her. Her eyes locked onto him as he chased her over the edge.

Astarion couldn't hold back any longer. Her cunt’s raw embrace, her cries filling the air utterly broke him, and he lost all control. Astarion let out a long, deep moan as he spilled inside her. He thrust into her with desperate fervor, riding the last waves of their shared ecstasy until he was utterly spent. The scent of sex, sweat, and her perfume leaving him heady. 

For a moment, he lay there, still buried deep within her, his body warm and heavy against hers. It was a feeling unlike anything he'd ever experienced—an intoxicating blend of satisfaction, love, and relief. Astarion pressed his lips to her skin, but the warmth that lingered unnerved him. It wasn’t the heat of passion—it was something deeper, a softness that made him feel exposed. He told himself it would pass, but some part of him whispered that it wouldn’t.

Sima lay beside him, her body utterly relaxed, her wrists and ankles marked red from the ropes that had held her in place. The ache in her limbs was sweet, a reminder of how completely she had surrendered to him, how much she trusted him. She turned her head toward him, feeling the softness of his damp curls brush her cheek. Her breath was still uneven, but a contented sigh escaped her lips as she let herself sink into the moment.

Astarion’s arm snaked around her, pulling her close against his chest. He could hear the gentle beat of her heart, steady and soothing, her breathing soft as it lulled him into a rare sense of calm. It was a strange feeling—one he wasn’t accustomed to, but one he found himself craving more of. He closed his eyes, his fingers tangling in her wild curls as he held her close. In this moment, everything felt perfect, as if the rest of the world no longer mattered.

Sima’s voice broke the silence, a soft murmur still thick with the remnants of pleasure. "Astarion... I want to hold you..." She wriggled her wrists, trying to free herself from the ropes that still bound her.

Astarion didn’t respond with words, not immediately. Instead, he shifted his body, pulling her closer, his leg sliding between hers as he nuzzled into her neck. He wasn’t ready to let her go just yet, wasn’t ready to lose the feeling of her warmth against him. She was still bound, and a small part of him enjoyed that—knowing that she was his, even for just a little longer.

Sima sighed, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Silly thing... my wrists and ankles are going to go numb if you don’t untie me."

Astarion grinned against her skin, his voice a soft murmur filled with amusement. "I’ll untie you, my love. But not yet." He pressed his leg more firmly between hers, his body wrapped around her possessively, as if he couldn’t bear to let her slip away from him. Not after what they had just shared.

Sima laughed softly, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. "Well, fine. I suppose you’re very cute right now."

Astarion chuckled, his lips trailing soft, lingering kisses along her collarbone. His breath was warm against her skin, sending little shivers of pleasure through her. He kissed along her neck, his fingers resting lightly on her throat, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin in lazy circles. It was a gentle touch, one that belied the intensity they had just shared, but one that made her heart race all the same.

Sima moaned softly, her body relaxing into his embrace. His kisses were disarming, tender in a way she hadn’t expected, and she found herself sinking deeper into the sensation. She had always loved the way he kissed her neck, the way his lips pressed against her skin like a promise. And as he kissed lower, she let herself fall into the warmth of the moment.

Astarion could feel the way her body responded, the way she leaned into his touch, trusting him completely. It stirred something deep within him, something that felt far too close to love. He smiled against her skin, knowing exactly what she was feeling. His lips moved in gentle nibbles along her throat, his thumb still tracing circles on her neck, feeling the steady pulse of her heartbeat beneath his fingers. The warmth of her blood called to him, and he knew he couldn’t resist it any longer.

His fangs descended slowly, a low growl escaping him before he sank them into her neck.

Sima gasped, the sharp pain quickly giving way to a rush of pleasure. She moaned softly, her body quivering in his embrace as his arms tightened around her. Bound and helpless as she was, she trusted him entirely, letting herself fall into the sensation as the warmth of his bite washed over her. She could feel his need, the hunger behind the bite, but more than that, she felt the tenderness in the way he held her.

Astarion drank slowly, savoring the taste of her blood. It had been so long since he had fed from her, and now, as her blood flowed into him, he felt an overwhelming sense of connection. She was more delicious than he remembered, her essence filling him with warmth and desire. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were dark oxblood pools of pure satisfaction. 

Sima lay still, her body flushed, and her breath coming in soft, uneven gasps as she recovered from the bite. She was still tied, but there was a softness in her expression, a contentment that made him smile. Gently, Astarion began to untie her wrists;  his movements careful to protect this precious thread of closeness between them. 

As her arms fell to the mattress, Sima sighed in relief, her body going slack. She pulled at the ties on her ankles, and when they finally came loose, she leaned her forehead against his, gazing into his eyes.

"Relax," Astarion whispered, his voice soft as he kissed her deeply, his hands cradling her face. "You’re safe with me." There was no rush, no urgency now—just the sweetness of the moment, the quiet intimacy that lingered between them. And for the first time in a long while, he tried to infuse those words with every part of himself.

Sima kissed him back, her arms wrapping around him at last, pulling him close. Her legs, still shaking slightly from the intensity of their passion, managed to wrap around his waist. She held him tightly, needing to feel every part of him, to reassure herself that this moment was real.

"Say those words again," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with need. Those words meant more to her than anything else, more even than the pleasure they had just shared.

Astarion smiled against her lips, his gaze softening as he held her. "You’re safe with me," he whispered again, his voice low, tender, and full of conviction. The words were meant to comfort her, but deep down, he wasn’t entirely sure they were true. He wanted them to be—gods, how he wanted them to be. But could he really promise her safety, when the darker parts of himself still whispered otherwise?

He could feel the weight of her trust, the significance of those words between them. She had given herself to him completely, body and soul, and now, perhaps for the first time, he realized that this was more than mere passion. This was something that bound them together in a way that even he hadn’t anticipated.

She allowed herself to melt into his kiss, a deliberate surrender of control. She wasn’t simply swept away—she was making a choice, to trust him again, to meet him halfway.  When their lips parted, she rested her forehead against his, gazing into his crimson eyes with a tenderness that only deepened. 

"I love you," she whispered, her fingers curling into his damp white curls as she held his face in her hands.

Astarion’s breath caught in his throat as the gravity behind her words sank in. For a moment, the words caught in his throat. He hadn’t said them in centuries—hadn’t allowed himself to. But with her, it felt... right. Even if, deep down, part of him wondered if he could ever fully mean them in the way she deserved.

"I love you as well, Sima," he said softly, his eyes opening and gazing at her as if she was the entirety of his existence. He pressed another kiss to her lips, slow and gentle and his hand caressed her cheek as if she was more precious than any stone in Evereska. 

Sima’s heart thudded in her chest as she gazed into his eyes, her hands still caressing his face. Every part of her wanted to believe, to trust in this love they had discovered together. But it wasn’t without its risks, its uncertainties. She knew the chaos it might bring, the complications of their lives, but she also knew, deep in her soul, that she was ready.

With a steadying breath, Sima held his face more firmly as she made her silent decision. She leapt headfirst toward the unknown, driven by the faith she had in him, in them.

She swallowed, her breath trembling but her resolve firm as she whispered, "Yes... Astarion. Yes. I'll do it."

For the first time in his long, cursed life, Astarion’s smile wasn’t marred by seduction or arrogance. It was honest, vulnerable, and real. He cupped her face in his hands, her name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer, "Sima…"

But deep inside, beneath the warmth of her acceptance, a flicker of uncertainty remained. Could he really let go of the power he had always craved? Could he share it equally? He wanted to believe he could. He loved her, didn’t he? Yet, some darker corner of his mind whispered: You will always have the final say.

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of eternity. His gaze, always so sharp, softened as his lips enveloped her as she chose him in this moment. The lingering kiss spoke of everything he couldn’t say aloud—his gratitude, his awe, his love. This was no fleeting moment of pleasure. This was forever.

Sima’s conviction solidified in the press of their lips. Her hands tightened in his white curls as if anchoring herself to this moment, to the man who had offered her the world and challenged her at every turn. There was no turning back now, and the thought of it didn’t scare her. It thrilled her. This time, it would be different, a quiet refrain in her mind. 

But as Astarion held her, the old instincts whispered again—control, dominance, power. Was he truly capable of this equality she demanded? Could she be his equal without threatening his carefully constructed rule?

When their lips parted, Astarion’s eyes glistened with a quiet intensity. He brushed a thumb over her cheek, his voice soft yet resolute. "I swear to you, on everything I am, you will never fear me again. I will never hurt you, Sima, not ever. You will always be free." But even as he said the words, a subtle shadow flickered in his mind—Free... but mine. He pulled her closer, as if the force of his love could silence the doubts gnawing at him.

The words hit her with a force she hadn’t expected. Free—the word echoed in her mind. It meant more now, after all they had been through, after the trust she had placed in him. But that wasn't enough. Her decision to embrace this life, to stand at his side forever, meant they couldn’t just be lovers, or sire and bride. They had to be more. They had to be equals, bound by choice, not chains.

She pulled back slightly, her dark brown eyes blazing with a fierce clarity as she held his gaze. "Astarion," she whispered, her voice trembling with both love and hidden fears. "If I give you all of me, if I step into eternity with you… we do this together. We’re equals. Equal in every way. I won’t be your shadow, your possession. I want to be your partner, standing beside you, not beneath you." This is my line in the sand. I won’t cross it, she thought. If I let myself be anything less than his equal, I’d be betraying everything I’ve fought for, everything I am. I’ve come too far, survived too much. He has to understand that. If he doesn’t... 

Astarion blinked, the weight of her words settling over him like an iron blanket. In all the centuries he had lived, no one had ever spoken to him like this—no one had ever asked for equality. They had feared him, admired him, submitted to him. But this… this was different. This was power, real power, given willingly, not taken by force. And yet... could he let go of this gnawing, ravenous need for control?

He brushed his lips over hers again, this time slower, softer, as if sealing a pact between them. When he pulled away, his voice was rough, barely above a whisper. "Equal and free, Sima. Always."  

But a small voice inside reminded him: Equal, yes—but still mine. Always mine, like a sick lullaby. Could he give her freedom and keep her bound to him? The thought twisted something deep inside him, but he pushed it aside for now. "Not my shadow, not my possession. My equal. My partner. My consort." 

Her heart swelled, and for a moment, she almost let herself believe it completely. But even still her traitorous heart questioned in the shadows: could Astarion really give her what she needed? Or was she asking too much of a man who had spent centuries in chains of his own making? 

She cupped his face again, her fingers curling against his sharp jaw as she whispered back, "Equal and free," she repeated, sealing it with a kiss of hope.  "And together, we’ll have everything. No one will stand in our way."

Astarion’s smile turned wicked, the glint of ambition sparking in his eyes, but now it was shared—it wasn’t just his hunger for power, but theirs. Together, they would be unstoppable. Together, but still in the palm of my hand...

"Everything, my love. I swear it."

They had forged their bond in blood and fire, and now they would burn the world down together, equal and free—at least, as far as he could allow. 

Chapter 15: A hunger crueler than bloodlust

Previously: Prologue Tumblr Link for Prologue, Chapter One; Chapter Two, Chapter 3, Interlude Chapter 4 Chapter 5, Chapter 6 Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Interlude 2 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 , Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. NSFW, Ethical and non Ethical BDSM, noncon, some allusions to sexual violence, flashbacks to sexual violence, discussions of sexual violence, dubious boundaries, attempted sexual violence, dubcon, blood licking/blood kink, reference to cheating behavior, emotional trauma, group sex, sex, smutt, anxiety, negative thinking, sexual trauma, recovery, healing, angst,

Word count: 116k

Warning: SMUTT, Heavy BDSM Play!

Status: Ongoing

Chapter 16: Oct 2 2024

Song of the Hour:

Red Room - Bryce Savage

Entire Story Link on AO3 Spotify Playlist AO3

After the Cut!

Chapter 15: A hunger crueler than bloodlust

Astarion led Sima through the grand halls of his palace, the air thick with a quiet urgency. Vampires flitted about like shadows, their presence a mere whisper against the ancient stone. Their eyes flicked toward him in deference, but they lingered on Sima, drawn to her like lost souls hungering for the light. Curiosity simmered beneath their gazes, envy curling like smoke. And in some, something far darker stirred—a longing to possess what they dared not approach. Sima stood out, a jewel in their midst, glowing against the cold, pale hues of the vampire nobility.

Astarion, acutely aware of the eyes on them, moved with deliberate grace, as though the palace itself bent to his will. Every glance cast her way only strengthened his resolve. She was his now—part of this empire, whether she realized it yet or not. Each step was regal, his posture composed, betraying none of the urgency thrumming beneath his calm exterior. The palace was his stage, and he was its ruling actor, commanding every glance and whispered breath. His power was absolute, and yet, tonight, he sought something more. He wanted her to see it all, not just his dominion—he’d give her this world. But the final say would always be his

Through winding corridors and hidden passages, Astarion revealed the full extent of his reach. Beneath the city, his network of spies slithered through the Under City’s labyrinthine tunnels, gathering secrets only a vampire lord could possess. They passed vaults lined with glittering treasures—gold, jewels, artifacts from centuries past—proof of his wealth and influence over the nobility of Baldur’s Gate. He painted vivid portraits of their future with words laced in silk, of ruling together, their “benevolent” reign absolute. Yet, his crimson eyes sought hers often, the charm on his lips masking a deeper hope for approval.

As the evening darkened, Astarion’s touch lingered when he brushed Sima’s hair aside, his fingers grazing the curve of her neck, a deliberate tease. "The night wanes, my sweet," he purred, that velvet tone steeped in rich intent. "Shall I show you the rest of what belongs to me?"

A quiet chuckle slipped past his lips as he led her toward his private chambers, away from prying eyes and the reach of judgment. This, above all, was his sanctuary. Here, behind these walls, he could indulge the desires he had kept locked away from the world. He wanted her to see everything—the things no one else had ever been allowed to witness.

Sima’s eyes sparkled with amusement, her lips twisting into a knowing smirk. “Another bedchamber? What makes this one worth the theatrics?”

Astarion’s smile widened, wicked and familiar, his pale lips curling with rakish charm. The same smile that had seduced countless others before her, though none had ever stirred him the way she did. “Nothing… save for what unfolds here.” He whispered in lustful and dulcet murmurs. 

He pushed open the door, revealing a room steeped in sin. Opulence cloaked in debauchery, indulgence disguising the darker truth—that every inch of it was designed to demand obedience. The crimson velvet bed gleamed under the dim light, framed by gold-threaded pillows. Black silk curtains wrapped the room in shadow, cutting them off from the world beyond. The walls, adorned with hedonistic murals, whispered of forbidden pleasures, and along the edges of the room hung the tools of indulgence—restraints, whips, and finely crafted toys, each piece as exquisite as it was dangerous.

Astarion’s gaze never left her as she took in the sight. The pride in his smile was unmistakable. He had always delighted in the dramatic, but this room—this sanctuary of decadence—was the purest manifestation of his desires. “I thought it was time I had a proper playroom,” he said, his voice carrying a thread of amusement, but beneath it lay something deeper, hungrier. “No more hiding in caves. This is my domain now, and nothing here is out of reach. Including you.”

Sima stepped into the room, her fingers trailing over the silk sheets, feeling the cool, luxurious fabric beneath her fingertips. She had seen many sides of him before, but this... this felt like stepping into the core of who Astarion truly was—a place where control, desire, and power fused into one. Even as she let him lead, there was a thrill in knowing she could still say no. She let out a soft laugh, her fingers brushing against the silk restraints on the bedposts. “I see you’ve expanded your collection.”

Astarion’s smirk grew, his gaze flickering over her with palpable hunger. “I have,” he purred. “No more limits. No more hiding. Only indulgence.” His eyes lingered on the violet and gold fabric of her embroidered blouse, the way it hugged her figure, laying beautifully against her rich brown skin. “Nothing I will deny myself.”

She met his gaze, her dark ringlets cascading down her back as she leaned against the bedpost, fully aware of the effect her presence had on him. She could see it in the way his breath caught, how his crimson eyes roamed over her, momentarily lost in the sight. In this moment, she held a kind of power over him, one that made her burn with satisfaction. 

He moved behind her, his hands sliding over her shoulders, tracing the curve of her spine before pulling her flush against him. His breath, hot against her ear, made her shudder. "You're a vision… a masterpiece," he whispered, voice a low, dangerous growl. His crimson eyes gleamed with hunger. "The things I could do to you… they’re endless."

Sima locked eyes with him, her own gaze bold and teasing. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Astarion’s pulse quickened, a fierce, unrelenting desire surging through him. She awakened something in him, something that had lain dormant for centuries. The challenge in her eyes only stoked the fire inside him. His hands tightened on her waist as he leaned down, his lips grazing her neck. “Nothing… nothing but permission,” he whispered, his voice thick with unslaked lust.

Sima’s eyes fluttered shut, the tremor of his touch sending a pulse of heat through her, awakening something wild and untamed beneath the surface. His fingers traced the open back of her blouse, teasing her skin with each light touch. “Total permission? Is that what you want?” she asked, her voice breathless, knowing full well the answer.

Astarion’s lips hovered near her ear. 'Absolute and utter submission,' he whispered.

Astarion eased back just enough to catch her gaze, his smile darkening as a wolfish hunger flickered in his eyes. “You’ve no idea what you’ve set free,” he whispered like a dangerous caress.

Sima’s confidence never wavered. She met his gaze, her voice a daring whisper. “Show me. You have my permission.”

Astarion surged forward, as his body crashed against her and devoured her lips. His hands curled possessively around the small of her back, pulling her flush against him as his other hand tangled in her hair. The kiss was fierce, a collision of need and power, as his tongue sought hers, and together, they fell into the heat of their connection.

Sima moaned softly into his kiss, her body pressing against his, the heat of her desire burning through her. Her fingers raked across his chest, nails grazing his skin as she reveled in the feel of his taut muscles beneath her touch.

Astarion's breath hitched as he ripped the blouse away from her body, the fabric falling to the floor in a forgotten heap. He took his time undoing her slacks, savoring the moment, the anticipation building between them like a coiled spring ready to snap. She broke from his kiss, her lips trailing down his jawline, nipping playfully at his throat. Her own hands making quick work of his finery.

He growled softly, a low sound of approval, as his hands found the waistband of her pants. With one smooth motion, he slid them down her legs, his lips brushing against the curve of her hip as she arched into him, her body bending under his touch.

Astarion’s body burned and ached with a fever at her touch. Sima's hands moved across his back, her soft moans filling the air between them even as her hands found the ridges of his old scars. Her touch was fire, branding him, marking him as hers. He reveled in the feel of her beneath him, her body yielding to his as he pushed her back onto the bed.

Sima collapsed onto the silk sheets, her breath quickening in shallow bursts. Her gaze flicked to the restraints waiting for her, anticipation coiling in her gut. Red ropes, tied neatly to the four bedposts, awaited their turn. Her eyes locked with his as she lay there; her dark, mahogany skin gleaming in the dim light and her curves a delightful sight.

Her voice was a soft whisper, filled with challenge and desire, as she looked up at him. "Play with me?"

For the briefest of moments, Astarion’s crimson eyes flickered, though he quickly mastered his expression. The surge of excitement her words evoked threatened to surface, but he reined it in. This was a game, yes—but a dangerous one, and she had given herself so easily. His hand moved to trace the curve of her breasts, fingers lingering on the soft swell as he leaned down to breathe the next words out as a wanton hiss,

"Play, my darling? Oh, I intend to do far more than that tonight."

Sima moaned softly against his mouth, biting down on his lower lip as his hand latched around her breasts and his fingers expertly pinching her nipples. A mounting desire rose between them, her impatience growing as she ground her hips against his body. Would he tie her up? Blindfold her? Punish her? Her mind raced with anticipation, even as his kisses deepened, stoking the fire between them.

Astarion knew it was time to test her limits. He wanted to see just how far she’d let him push this. His hands moved with expert precision as he captured her wrists, binding them behind her back with the soft red ropes. She couldn’t escape now, her hands rendered completely useless. He stepped back, admiring his work with satisfaction before leaning in once more, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered in her ear.

"You're such a good girl, Sima. Such a beautiful, good girl, just the way I like you..."

Sima’s back arched, her dark ringlets spilling down her shoulders, framing her face as her body lay exposed—vulnerable, yet unyielding in its submission. The silk ropes around her wrists held firm, not too tight yet secure enough to remind her that escape was not an option. He fisted his hand into her hair, tugging her head back sharply, eliciting a gasp before he threw her back against the bed. Her legs were still unbound, and the only barrier between her and his lustful intent was the fragile black thong she wore.

Astarion didn’t hesitate. His hands explored her body with reverence, savoring every curve, every inch of her warm mahogany skin beneath his fingers. His lips grazed her ear, his breath a hot whisper. “You’re exquisite… I can barely imagine how divine you’ll be as a vampire. The deep brown of your skin, those perfect curls… utterly irresistible.”

The hunger in his voice was palpable, a deep, consuming desire that drove him to the edge of control. In one swift motion, he tore her thong away, leaving her utterly bare before him. Her legs were pulled back and tied to the bedposts, her wrists now secured above her head as he adjusted the ropes with deliberate care. Sima was spread open for him, a vision of raw, unrestrained desire. Astarion couldn’t help but smile, admiring the sight of her vulnerable and exposed.

There was nothing else but surrender left at this moment. She lay stretched across the bed, every stretch of soft flesh exposed in a way that made her heart race. Her wrists pulled against the ropes, testing their give. Even tied, she still had power in the way her hips arched into his touch, the way she forced him to wait. 

Sima’s gaze met his, as he hovered over her, his expression dark with hunger that went far beyond mere need. He loomed over her like an artist before his masterpiece, preparing to shape her as he saw fit. She gave herself so willingly—far too easily for it to be real submission, he thought.

Astarion’s grin widened as he took in the sight of her, helpless and at his mercy, bound and ready for his pleasure. Her body was his to mold, and he reveled in it. Leaning down, he began to work her breasts with expert hands, caressing, kneading, and pinching the sensitive flesh, coaxing soft moans and whimpers from her lips. His mouth followed, tongue tracing her skin down her body, teasing her until she squirmed beneath him, utterly his.

Sima gasped as his tongue flicked between her thighs, her body arching as his hands continued their teasing play with her breasts. She glanced down the length of her body, watching him, her hands tied and helpless to stop the teasing assault. The torment of it—the way he brought her so close, only to pull away—left her breathless with frustration and want.

Astarion watched her closely, delighting in her every reaction. He reveled in the control he had over her, to make her beg for him. To him, it was all a dark performance—one he had perfected over centuries. And now, he was playing it out with the woman he desired more than any other.

With each soft moan that escaped her lips, he kissed them away, his teeth grazing her skin as mouth grew more demanding. His hands returned to her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples with more intensity, watching with satisfaction as her body shuddered beneath him. She was so sensitive, so eager for him.

Astarion growled, low and seductive, the heat in his voice meant only for her. His hands moved lower, sliding up and down her thighs, teasing her with every pass, his fingers brushing ever so close to her clit before pulling away again. The evidence of her desire was clear on her slick skin, a testament to the power he held over her.

"Look at you..." he purred, his eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "My perfect little slut. Filthy, aren’t you? But only ever for me."

Sima’s breath hitched as his fingers brushed her tender core, her body trembling. Caught by surprise she gasped as he hoisted her legs higher in the ropes, leaving her even more exposed. Astarion’s hand came down with a sharp slap against her ass, the sting making her body jolt, a sharp cry escaping her lips.

"Yes..." she breathed, her voice shaky with anticipation. "I like being yours."

Astarion’s eyes darkened with pleasure at her words, and he slapped her again, harder this time, watching as she groaned and hissed, stifling a moan. Power surged through him—intoxicating, undeniable—but it was her willing submission that felt like the ultimate triumph. He leaned in close and deeply commanded her, as the breath on his lips caressed her skin.

"Like being mine? Say it and mean it Sima. ‘I love being yours.’"

Her mind swam as she felt the power of his compulsion wash over her, her eyes glowing violet under the influence of his command. Her voice was soft, sultry, as she repeated the words, her tone mimicking his.

"I love being yours..."

Astarion’s hesitated a moment, taking in the look of her pure surrender. Then, as he snapped back into himself, his fangs grazed her neck as he released her from the spell, allowing her will to return. He craved her true submission, her real consent—but the echo of his whispered command still lingered in her mind, making the drip between her legs poor even more.

Sima blinked, momentarily disoriented, but as she looked up at him, tied and bound, her lips curled into a smile. She bit her lip as she watched him, blood still staining his mouth, the deep red glow of the room framing the scene in a perfect tableau of their shared depravity. He turned away, walking toward the wall of toys, a display of his intent that made her pulse quicken with excitement. She smirked as she observed him, like a curator selecting his favorite piece* “Well look who's so utterly satisfied with himself…” Her bratty tone mixed with the thrill of her desire.

Astarion grinned as he glanced back at her, his fingers trailing over the various implements hanging on the wall. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he considered his options, finally selecting a medium-sized paddle. He turned back toward her, his voice thick with amusement.

"Tell me... do you have a preference?" he asked, his voice teasing. "You've always been so good with your toys and playmates. Let me know what you want to explore. Let's have some fun, shall we?"

Sima’s eyes followed him closely, her breath hitching as he traced his fingers over the floggers and paddles. Her gaze lingered on the paddle in his hand, her body tensing with anticipation. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to ask for it.

"Please," she breathed, her voice dripping with both defiance and mocking submission. "I've been bad... I need to be spanked."

Astarion’s eyes lit up with delight at her challenge, savoring the bratty spark in her gaze. He could never resist that rebellious streak in her. With a wicked grin, he raised the paddle and brought it down with a sharp crack across her rear.

Sima’s body jerked in response, a cry escaping her lips as the pain seared through her, mingling with the intense pleasure that coursed through her veins. The sting left her trembling, her body arching toward him as her desire grew with every passing moment.

Astarion took his time, relishing each reaction, watching her with the intensity of a wolf cornering a fawn. Again and again, the paddle came down, each strike landing on fresh skin, painting her rear in a deep maroon hue, darker than the red of the ropes that bound her.

She groaned, her breath coming in ragged gasps as her hands tightened around the ropes. Her body arched with each strike, the mixture of pain and pleasure building into an unbearable tension. Every time the paddle connected with her skin, a new wave of sensation washed over her, each one more intense than the last. Her dark brown eyes fluttered shut as the dampness between her thighs grew. The sensation of his marks, left behind on Sima began an addicting ache.  

Astarion was relentless, his strikes precise, his pace measured. He alternated the force and location of each hit, aiming deliberately toward the most sensitive spots—just above her clit, along her inner thighs—drawing out sharp yelps of rapture from Sima. Her body writhed beneath him, unable to escape the onslaught, her need palpable as the tension coiled tighter within her.

Her breath hitched as his hand slipped between her legs, his fingers brushing over her slick folds, teasing her mercilessly. The soft sounds of her soaked skin filled the room, a testament to the control he held over her. Every inch of her was his, and she couldn’t deny how much she craved this.

"You're such a filthy little thing," he murmured, completely wanton. "You love it when I make you beg, don't you?"

Sima whimpered, her body trembling as his fingers danced across her swollen bud, her hips bucking involuntarily toward his touch. She was so close now, the tension building into something almost unbearable, her need for release overwhelming every other thought in her mind. The torrent of feeling across her skin, left her only able to frantically nod. 

Astarion’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction at her confession, his fingers sliding inside her now, curling just right to hit that hidden spot within her. He watched with dark delight as her body responded to him, her moans growing louder, her thighs quivering with every movement. His voice dropped to a growl as he spoke again, his breath hot against her ear.

"Come for me, Sima… Prove just how much you crave being mine."

Sima’s body tensed at his command, the words pushing her over the edge. Her back arched off the bed, her breath catching as her orgasm crashed over her in a wave of heat and ecstasy. She cried out his name, her body shaking as she came hard, her core tightening around his fingers, pulling him deeper into her.

Astarion watched her with wanton craving, savoring the sight of her falling apart beneath him. His own desire surged as he felt her body convulse with pleasure, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she rode out the last waves of her climax. He pulled his fingers out of her slowly, bringing them to his lips and tasting her juices with a wicked grin.

"You taste delicious," he murmured, a mix of potent lust and longing. "But don’t think we’re done, my love. The night is still young, and I’m far from satisfied."

Sima lay sprawled across the bed, her body slack in the ropes, her breath coming in soft, uneven pants. Her skin was flushed, glistening with sweat, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. But as she looked up at him, the gleam in her eyes hadn’t faded. If anything, it had only grown stronger.

"Don’t waste another minute then" she whispered, her voice still tinged with defiance despite the exhaustion in her limbs. "Show me."

As Sima squirmed beneath him, her breath coming in ragged gasps, Astarion leaned over, his lips pressing softly against her neck. He trailed kisses and licks along her flushed skin, savoring the heat she exuded. His fingers slipped between her thighs, teasing her slick folds, the wetness greeting him with a surge of desire. He smirked against her skin, feeling the tremble of her body under his touch.

Her cries grew louder as his fingers found her aching bud, relentlessly teasing her as she gasped his name. Sima was oversensitive and he knew it. Her deep brown eyes locked with his crimson gaze, full of unspoken pleas. Every brush of his fingers coaxed her closer to the edge, the pressure within her building, her body trembling with the promise of release.

Sima’s hips bucked desperately against his hand, her need palpable as she sought more—harder, deeper. She was so close now, her body tightening with every stroke, her voice breaking with frustration and desire. Astarion watched her with a hunter’s focus, his own desire barely contained as he relished in her vulnerability, in the power he held over her pleasure.

"Tell me what you want, darling," he whispered, his voice a low growl, laced with dark intent. His breath was hot against her ear as his fingers continued their relentless teasing, drawing her closer to that sweet oblivion. "Let me hear it, and I’ll give you everything."

Her voice broke into a desperate whimper, her body shaking with need as she bucked harder against his fingers. "Harder..." she gasped, defiance edging her voice. "And tell me those dirty things I love."

Astarion chuckled softly, amused and aroused by her defiance. His fingers moved faster, the pressure growing more insistent as he leaned closer, his breath sending electric shocks through her. His whispers turned filthy, each word dripping with condescension and desire, feeding the fire that burned within her. He reveled in her submission, the way she squirmed beneath him, her body completely at his mercy.

"Such a good little whore," he whispered darkly, his voice thick with lust. "You love it, don’t you? Being mine... utterly helpless."

Sima groaned in response, arching off the bed as his degrading words washed over her. Her ringlets spilled over her face as she bucked harder, grinding against his hand, desperate for more. His fingers matched the frantic rhythm of her hips, bringing her closer to the edge with every stroke, keeping her teetering on the precipice of pleasure.

Astarion watched her closely, his crimson eyes gleaming with pride and hunger as her body trembled beneath him. He pushed two fingers inside her, curling them expertly to hit that hidden spot that made her gasp. His whispers continued, taunting her with promises of more until she couldn’t take it anymore.

"Is that it?" he murmured, his voice a tantalizing tease. "Is that the kind of filth you crave? I can make you feel so much more, Sima... just tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll show you everything."

Her body shook with need, her frustration evident as she begged for more. "Yes... please..." she gasped, her voice trembling. "Keep calling me names..."

Astarion smirked, loving the way she begged, the way she writhed beneath his control. His voice was a dark whisper in her ear as he continued his filthy endearments.

"Such a good little slut," he purred. "You’re mine, Sima... always mine."

The words pushed her over the edge. Her body tensed, her hips lifting off the bed as her core clenched around his fingers. Her climax crashed over her like a tidal wave, her cries filling the room as her body shuddered with the force of her release. Her head fell back against the pillow, her body trembling as she surrendered to the tremors radiating through her.

Astarion drank in the sight of her with pride and wanton greed. The sound of her moans, the way her body moved beneath him, sent a surge of satisfaction through him. He pulled his fingers from her slowly, this time bringing them to her own lips to coat them in her slick. 

Sima lay slack in the ropes, her skin glistening with sweat, her breath coming in soft pants. She watched him through half-lidded eyes, her body still pulsing with the remnants of pleasure. A soft whimper escaped her as his fingers made her taste her own spent desire.

For a fleeting moment, the familiar arrogance ebbed, replaced by something deeper—something tender. His smile lingered, though softer now, a trace of genuine pleasure in his eyes. His voice dropped to a near whisper, reverent in its softness.

"Such a good girl..."

The words barely left his lips before he leaned down, his mouth capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as he savored the taste. The plush drag of their mouths full of heat and longing, as if neither of them could get enough of the other.

Sima pulled against the red ropes that ensnared her. Leaning forward with her body as she ached, to hold him, but the restraints kept her bound. She whined softly as he shifted on top of her, his stiff, unspent cock sliding against her folds languidly.

Astarion ran his fingers through her wild curls, his gaze never leaving hers. In that moment, something stirred deep within him—something more than lust, more than the thrill of conquest. It was a connection, a sense of completion that he hadn’t felt in centuries. It unsettled him, but he couldn’t deny it.

He leaned in closer, teasing her entrance with the head of his cock, and a soft whimper escaped his darling’s lips as the restraints prevented her from wrapping her legs around him as she craved. Desperation edged her voice as she pressed her lips against his ear, her breath warm, thick with need.

“I want you… fill me.”

Astarion’s restraint shattered in an instant. Her words, dripping with raw longing and insatiable hunger, stripped away his usual poise. His ruby eyes blazed with an uncontainable need as he thrust into her with a single, powerful stroke. His lips crashed against hers in a bruising kiss. Each flick of his tongue a promise that he would not stop until he had consumed her completely, until her pleasure had devoured them both.

Sima groaned deeply, the ropes biting into her skin as she pulled against them, her body desperate to move with him, to wrap herself around him and pull him even deeper. When he pushed all the way to the hilt, her inner walls fluttered and her throat caught before he began thrusting at a primal pace. Each collision of their bodies burned a fervor  under her skin that only grew with each stroke. Their mouths remained locked, her tongue flicking against his fangs until she tasted the sharp tang of blood on his lips. The blood only fueled the fire between them, heightening every sensation, every thrust, every kiss.

For Astarion, this was the pinnacle of everything he had ever wanted. She, who was always so strong, now lay utterly helpless, surrendered to him, completely at his mercy. His hands gripped the sheets, his jaw clenched as his lips moved feverishly from hers to her neck, down to her collarbone. Everywhere he touched her, he claimed her, his desire raw and unrelenting.

His usual cool demeanor had long since vanished, replaced by a frenzied, animalistic rhythm. He kissed her hungrily, savoring the taste of her blood mixed with the sweet scent of her skin, his fingers digging into her flesh as he drove into her harder, faster, losing himself completely in the heat of their connection. Every moan, every gasp, every roll of her hips sent him closer to the brink, her body a perfect vessel for his darkest desires.

Sima whimpered against his mouth, her body moving with his in perfect, desperate harmony. Each thrust filled her so completely, stretching her to the point where it felt like she might shatter. Her core tightened around him, her hips bucking wildly as she felt herself teetering on the edge, the pleasure building, consuming her with each passing second. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her body undulating with the frantic rhythm they had created. She bit down on his lip, hard, drawing more blood as her moans softened into breathless gasps, his name spilling from her lips like a prayer.

Astarion’s hand moved to her throat, gripping it just enough to hold her steady as he kissed her deeply. Her moans, her whimpers, the way her silken vise gripped him so tightly—it was all too much. The pleasure surged through him, driving him into a frenzied rhythm, his every thrust pushing them both closer to oblivion.

Sima’s soft, desperate voice broke through the haze, her moan vibrating against his lips. "With me? Gods... I’m close..."

Her words shattered the last vestiges of his control. Astarion’s breath hitched, his body moving faster, his thrusts harder, more frantic as he pushed even deeper into her, hitting that hidden trigger inside her with precision. 

"Yes... yes... yes..." he panted, his voice raw and desperate, each thrust sending them both hurtling toward their shared release.

Sima’s body arched off the bed as she cried out Astarion’s name as she broke against her own peak. Her core tightened around him, milking him with each tight flutter and her body trembling uncontrollably beneath his. Each wave of pleasure left her gasping for breath. For a moment, it felt like she was suspended in free fall, her mind blissfully empty, consumed entirely by the pleasure he had coaxed from her. Her eyes locked onto him as he chased her over the edge.

Astarion couldn't hold back any longer. Her cunt’s raw embrace, her cries filling the air utterly broke him, and he lost all control. Astarion let out a long, deep moan as he spilled inside her. He thrust into her with desperate fervor, riding the last waves of their shared ecstasy until he was utterly spent. The scent of sex, sweat, and her perfume leaving him heady. 

For a moment, he lay there, still buried deep within her, his body warm and heavy against hers. It was a feeling unlike anything he'd ever experienced—an intoxicating blend of satisfaction, love, and relief. Astarion pressed his lips to her skin, but the warmth that lingered unnerved him. It wasn’t the heat of passion—it was something deeper, a softness that made him feel exposed. He told himself it would pass, but some part of him whispered that it wouldn’t.

Sima lay beside him, her body utterly relaxed, her wrists and ankles marked red from the ropes that had held her in place. The ache in her limbs was sweet, a reminder of how completely she had surrendered to him, how much she trusted him. She turned her head toward him, feeling the softness of his damp curls brush her cheek. Her breath was still uneven, but a contented sigh escaped her lips as she let herself sink into the moment.

Astarion’s arm snaked around her, pulling her close against his chest. He could hear the gentle beat of her heart, steady and soothing, her breathing soft as it lulled him into a rare sense of calm. It was a strange feeling—one he wasn’t accustomed to, but one he found himself craving more of. He closed his eyes, his fingers tangling in her wild curls as he held her close. In this moment, everything felt perfect, as if the rest of the world no longer mattered.

Sima’s voice broke the silence, a soft murmur still thick with the remnants of pleasure. "Astarion... I want to hold you..." She wriggled her wrists, trying to free herself from the ropes that still bound her.

Astarion didn’t respond with words, not immediately. Instead, he shifted his body, pulling her closer, his leg sliding between hers as he nuzzled into her neck. He wasn’t ready to let her go just yet, wasn’t ready to lose the feeling of her warmth against him. She was still bound, and a small part of him enjoyed that—knowing that she was his, even for just a little longer.

Sima sighed, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Silly thing... my wrists and ankles are going to go numb if you don’t untie me."

Astarion grinned against her skin, his voice a soft murmur filled with amusement. "I’ll untie you, my love. But not yet." He pressed his leg more firmly between hers, his body wrapped around her possessively, as if he couldn’t bear to let her slip away from him. Not after what they had just shared.

Sima laughed softly, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. "Well, fine. I suppose you’re very cute right now."

Astarion chuckled, his lips trailing soft, lingering kisses along her collarbone. His breath was warm against her skin, sending little shivers of pleasure through her. He kissed along her neck, his fingers resting lightly on her throat, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin in lazy circles. It was a gentle touch, one that belied the intensity they had just shared, but one that made her heart race all the same.

Sima moaned softly, her body relaxing into his embrace. His kisses were disarming, tender in a way she hadn’t expected, and she found herself sinking deeper into the sensation. She had always loved the way he kissed her neck, the way his lips pressed against her skin like a promise. And as he kissed lower, she let herself fall into the warmth of the moment.

Astarion could feel the way her body responded, the way she leaned into his touch, trusting him completely. It stirred something deep within him, something that felt far too close to love. He smiled against her skin, knowing exactly what she was feeling. His lips moved in gentle nibbles along her throat, his thumb still tracing circles on her neck, feeling the steady pulse of her heartbeat beneath his fingers. The warmth of her blood called to him, and he knew he couldn’t resist it any longer.

His fangs descended slowly, a low growl escaping him before he sank them into her neck.

Sima gasped, the sharp pain quickly giving way to a rush of pleasure. She moaned softly, her body quivering in his embrace as his arms tightened around her. Bound and helpless as she was, she trusted him entirely, letting herself fall into the sensation as the warmth of his bite washed over her. She could feel his need, the hunger behind the bite, but more than that, she felt the tenderness in the way he held her.

Astarion drank slowly, savoring the taste of her blood. It had been so long since he had fed from her, and now, as her blood flowed into him, he felt an overwhelming sense of connection. She was more delicious than he remembered, her essence filling him with warmth and desire. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were dark oxblood pools of pure satisfaction. 

Sima lay still, her body flushed, and her breath coming in soft, uneven gasps as she recovered from the bite. She was still tied, but there was a softness in her expression, a contentment that made him smile. Gently, Astarion began to untie her wrists;  his movements careful to protect this precious thread of closeness between them. 

As her arms fell to the mattress, Sima sighed in relief, her body going slack. She pulled at the ties on her ankles, and when they finally came loose, she leaned her forehead against his, gazing into his eyes.

"Relax," Astarion whispered, his voice soft as he kissed her deeply, his hands cradling her face. "You’re safe with me." There was no rush, no urgency now—just the sweetness of the moment, the quiet intimacy that lingered between them. And for the first time in a long while, he tried to infuse those words with every part of himself.

Sima kissed him back, her arms wrapping around him at last, pulling him close. Her legs, still shaking slightly from the intensity of their passion, managed to wrap around his waist. She held him tightly, needing to feel every part of him, to reassure herself that this moment was real.

"Say those words again," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with need. Those words meant more to her than anything else, more even than the pleasure they had just shared.

Astarion smiled against her lips, his gaze softening as he held her. "You’re safe with me," he whispered again, his voice low, tender, and full of conviction. The words were meant to comfort her, but deep down, he wasn’t entirely sure they were true. He wanted them to be—gods, how he wanted them to be. But could he really promise her safety, when the darker parts of himself still whispered otherwise?

He could feel the weight of her trust, the significance of those words between them. She had given herself to him completely, body and soul, and now, perhaps for the first time, he realized that this was more than mere passion. This was something that bound them together in a way that even he hadn’t anticipated.

She allowed herself to melt into his kiss, a deliberate surrender of control. She wasn’t simply swept away—she was making a choice, to trust him again, to meet him halfway.  When their lips parted, she rested her forehead against his, gazing into his crimson eyes with a tenderness that only deepened. 

"I love you," she whispered, her fingers curling into his damp white curls as she held his face in her hands.

Astarion’s breath caught in his throat as the gravity behind her words sank in. For a moment, the words caught in his throat. He hadn’t said them in centuries—hadn’t allowed himself to. But with her, it felt... right. Even if, deep down, part of him wondered if he could ever fully mean them in the way she deserved.

"I love you as well, Sima," he said softly, his eyes opening and gazing at her as if she was the entirety of his existence. He pressed another kiss to her lips, slow and gentle and his hand caressed her cheek as if she was more precious than any stone in Evereska. 

Sima’s heart thudded in her chest as she gazed into his eyes, her hands still caressing his face. Every part of her wanted to believe, to trust in this love they had discovered together. But it wasn’t without its risks, its uncertainties. She knew the chaos it might bring, the complications of their lives, but she also knew, deep in her soul, that she was ready.

With a steadying breath, Sima held his face more firmly as she made her silent decision. She leapt headfirst toward the unknown, driven by the faith she had in him, in them.

She swallowed, her breath trembling but her resolve firm as she whispered, "Yes... Astarion. Yes. I'll do it."

For the first time in his long, cursed life, Astarion’s smile wasn’t marred by seduction or arrogance. It was honest, vulnerable, and real. He cupped her face in his hands, her name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer, "Sima…"

But deep inside, beneath the warmth of her acceptance, a flicker of uncertainty remained. Could he really let go of the power he had always craved? Could he share it equally? He wanted to believe he could. He loved her, didn’t he? Yet, some darker corner of his mind whispered: You will always have the final say.

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of eternity. His gaze, always so sharp, softened as his lips enveloped her as she chose him in this moment. The lingering kiss spoke of everything he couldn’t say aloud—his gratitude, his awe, his love. This was no fleeting moment of pleasure. This was forever.

Sima’s conviction solidified in the press of their lips. Her hands tightened in his white curls as if anchoring herself to this moment, to the man who had offered her the world and challenged her at every turn. There was no turning back now, and the thought of it didn’t scare her. It thrilled her. This time, it would be different, a quiet refrain in her mind. 

But as Astarion held her, the old instincts whispered again—control, dominance, power. Was he truly capable of this equality she demanded? Could she be his equal without threatening his carefully constructed rule?

When their lips parted, Astarion’s eyes glistened with a quiet intensity. He brushed a thumb over her cheek, his voice soft yet resolute. "I swear to you, on everything I am, you will never fear me again. I will never hurt you, Sima, not ever. You will always be free." But even as he said the words, a subtle shadow flickered in his mind—Free... but mine. He pulled her closer, as if the force of his love could silence the doubts gnawing at him.

The words hit her with a force she hadn’t expected. Free—the word echoed in her mind. It meant more now, after all they had been through, after the trust she had placed in him. But that wasn't enough. Her decision to embrace this life, to stand at his side forever, meant they couldn’t just be lovers, or sire and bride. They had to be more. They had to be equals, bound by choice, not chains.

She pulled back slightly, her dark brown eyes blazing with a fierce clarity as she held his gaze. "Astarion," she whispered, her voice trembling with both love and hidden fears. "If I give you all of me, if I step into eternity with you… we do this together. We’re equals. Equal in every way. I won’t be your shadow, your possession. I want to be your partner, standing beside you, not beneath you." This is my line in the sand. I won’t cross it, she thought. If I let myself be anything less than his equal, I’d be betraying everything I’ve fought for, everything I am. I’ve come too far, survived too much. He has to understand that. If he doesn’t... 

Astarion blinked, the weight of her words settling over him like an iron blanket. In all the centuries he had lived, no one had ever spoken to him like this—no one had ever asked for equality. They had feared him, admired him, submitted to him. But this… this was different. This was power, real power, given willingly, not taken by force. And yet... could he let go of this gnawing, ravenous need for control?

He brushed his lips over hers again, this time slower, softer, as if sealing a pact between them. When he pulled away, his voice was rough, barely above a whisper. "Equal and free, Sima. Always."  

But a small voice inside reminded him: Equal, yes—but still mine. Always mine, like a sick lullaby. Could he give her freedom and keep her bound to him? The thought twisted something deep inside him, but he pushed it aside for now. "Not my shadow, not my possession. My equal. My partner. My consort." 

Her heart swelled, and for a moment, she almost let herself believe it completely. But even still her traitorous heart questioned in the shadows: could Astarion really give her what she needed? Or was she asking too much of a man who had spent centuries in chains of his own making? 

She cupped his face again, her fingers curling against his sharp jaw as she whispered back, "Equal and free," she repeated, sealing it with a kiss of hope.  "And together, we’ll have everything. No one will stand in our way."

Astarion’s smile turned wicked, the glint of ambition sparking in his eyes, but now it was shared—it wasn’t just his hunger for power, but theirs. Together, they would be unstoppable. Together, but still in the palm of my hand...

"Everything, my love. I swear it."

They had forged their bond in blood and fire, and now they would burn the world down together, equal and free—at least, as far as he could allow.