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whoreforsexymen · 7 months ago

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The VIP Booth | Vander Smut Oneshot 🫗🤎

(Gif creds: me <3)

Pairings: Husband!Vander x Wife!Reader

Pronouns: Fem!Pronouns

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked! 🤺

Word Count: 3.1k (whoops. got carried away with storybuilding)

Tags: Cunnilingus, Fingering, Face Fucking, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Semi-Public Sexual Acts, Established Relationship, etc.

Summary: You coax your husband into eating you out in the only private area The Last Drop has to offer.

Notes: AAAA!! Idk if this idea is ANY GOOD but it came to me in a moment of delusion. The last bit was probably a little rushed, too. SORRYYYY. I’ll make it up to yall later.

Also, tell me I’m wrong when I say that Vander will go to any length to eat some pussy. Do it, cowards. I dare you. YOU KNOW JUST AS WELL AS I DO THAT THIS MAN WOULD HAPPILY DIE WITH HIS FACE IN BETWEEN A PAIR OF THIGHS.

Asks/Request fics are coming soon, as well as a few more special treats for y’all!! Enjoy, my lovelies, & stay tuned. 🤍

(I can see you, minors!! Get outta here 🤺🤺. BACK! BACK, I SAY!)

Inside the walls of The Last Drop, there was one booth unlike any other—a private, exclusive spot tucked away behind the bustling central room. It was a booth reserved for those willing to pay for top-tier service, offering a secluded escape from the usual chaos of the bar’s environment. But as co-owner of The Last Drop—and wife to the main owner—you didn’t need to fork out any cash to reserve it. Especially not on a night like this. No—tonight, luck was on your side. The booth had gone unclaimed by any paying customer.

Truthfully, the undeniably significant feature were its curtains. The enormous maroon tapestries that enveloped the entrance ensured complete privacy, shielding it from prying eyes. After all, that’s what made it the VIP booth—an oasis of solitude amidst the drunken chaos of the crowd.

With the booth left unreserved, its privacy ensuring a rare moment of seclusion, and the crowd blissfully distracted by their own drunken revelry, the opportunity was simply too perfect to pass up. You had concocted a devilish plan—one that had been simmering in your mind all night. It wasn’t just about messing with your husband—it was about messing around with him.

Your overwhelming desire for your husband was impossible to ignore on any given day, but tonight, it seemed even more intense—an insatiable hunger that gnawed at you, its cause elusive and beyond your comprehension. Whatever the reason, it gripped you with a force you couldn't obstruct, leaving you restless and consumed by pure unadulterated lust.

This, naturally, allowed your plan to unfold effortlessly, as if guided by an invisible hand, bringing it closer to fruition.

To carry out your devious plan, you had carefully cultivated the trust of one of the few individuals who worked for you and Vander. They weren’t exactly employees in the traditional sense, but rather a handful of people you kept on the fringes, offering a few coins in exchange for their occasional assistance. Their loyalty was fleeting, bought with small tokens, but it was enough to serve your purpose. Especially in a moment such as this. A seemingly crucial one—at that.

You kept things vague, framing your request as though it were purely concerning a business discussion needing to be had. You asked your employee to discreetly inform your husband that someone was calling him from behind the velvet curtains of the VIP booth. You also made it clear that the employee should mirror your discretion, avoiding any mention of your name or your connection to him.

The employee appeared curious, even somewhat uneasy, at first. That was, however, prior to you slipping a generous cash bonus their way, eliciting their cooperation without room for protest.

"Go on, please," you plead with your unsuspecting employee, your voice laced with a blend of urgency and excitement. "But remember—don’t tell him it’s me."

As the employee slips into the bustling crowd, you struggle to contain the surge of excitement building within you, all while fighting to maintain a sultry—yet composed, demeanor. You adjust your hair, breasts, and clothing, making subtle moves to enhance your allure and mystery. Every gesture is deliberate, designed to keep you as collected and captivating as possible, cultivating an air of intrigue about you as you desperately await the arrival of your beloved husband.

They fulfilled your agreement as you waited—approaching their boss and informing him that someone had entered the VIP booth, insisting on speaking with him directly.

"VIP booth? Thought nobody booked it tonight," Vander remarks, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest as he takes a moment to process the information. Normally, you were the one who handled the VIP booth, and he’d have gladly passed this task off to you—if the employee hadn’t mentioned that the VIP “customer” specifically requested Vander. Looks like he’d have to put on a more hospitable facade and give them what they wanted.

If only he knew just what this "customer" truly wanted from him.

After a series of grunts, groans, and huffs, Vander finally made his way to the booth. After forcing a welcoming smile onto his face, he slowly pushed aside the curtains.

"Sorry for the wait. You wanted to speak to the owner—"

His voice faltered, trailing off faster than it had taken him to summon the words.

You feel your own response threaten to catch in your throat, but you won’t cave. You abandon your nerves.

"Why yes, I did. Although..." you drawl, your tone laced with playful mischief, "...'speak' isn’t exactly at the top of the list of things I want to do to the owner."

Your sultry gaze locks onto his, deliciously teasing. Vander, already an imposing figure, looms even larger from your vantage point in the booth. Seated as you are, you find yourself craning your neck significantly just to meet his eyes, the angle only amplifying his commanding presence.

A slew of unidentifiable emotions cross his face in a mere flash before fading into a singularly—equally mischievous to yours—-expression.

“Well. Seein’ as how you are the VIP patron of the night, how can I oblige you?” He queries, his eyebrow raising once more.

Your heart stutters beneath your breast as his expression shifts, his eyes darkening with a lust-filled intensity that sends a shiver through you. The chemistry between you two never failing to baffle you.

"...Serve me," you murmur, your voice soft yet determined to keep the air thick with seduction.

"And what, if I may be so bold to ask, can I serve you with?" he inquires, his voice dipping low, the provocative edge in his gaze unwavering.

"Your body." you quip, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves stirring in your gut, desperate to make it quiver.

Vander eyes you carefully for a moment, savoring the way your confidence wavers. He deliberately toys with the knowledge of how easily he can unsettle you, his gaze lingering as if relishing every flicker of hesitation you try to hide. A smirk slowly spreads across his mouth—the very one you ached for—his eyes glinting with an all-knowing, deviously sexy twinge. He nods softly, his hand rising to casually caress his beard as he watches you, the tension thick in the air.

��Mmhmm. I see," he murmurs, his tone laced with teasing amusement. "Who am I, if not a man willing to care for his loyal customers?" He phrases simply, the words carrying a heavy, unspoken promise before he moves, gracefully lowering himself to his knees across from you. There’s a moment of silence, the air thick with anticipation, before he slowly begins to push himself beneath the table that had kept you both apart.

You don’t dare look beneath the table, almost afraid to meet his gaze at this moment, unsure of what you might see on his face now that the situation has shifted. The tension coils tighter, each passing second amplifying the anticipation that overwhelmed your senses.

You practically jump at the brush of his shoulders against your shins as he crawls to them, the rush of anticipation making every nerve in your body jolt. The aching desperation pulling through you draws attention to your core as you feel his strong hands gently caress your legs, the heat of his touch settling on your knees, sending a shiver through you. The way your teeth begin to tug at your bottom lip seemed like the only way you could physically process your eagerness.

Vander remains silent, his hands moving deliberately in opposite directions, the gesture designed to spread your legs—yet he did so with enough force to split you down the middle if he hadn’t been careful enough. It isn’t until he successfully parts them that he speaks again.

“No bottoms? My. What a dirty girl you are, my dear customer. What if someone else had walked in here, hmm? Did you plan on flashing your bits to any bloke who popped his head in?” He teases, practically groaning some of his words, the guttural tone an unintentional yet instinctual reaction to the sight of you so bare—-so clearly prepared for whatever scenario it was you anticipated happening in this little corner of the establishment.

It was obvious to your husband, from the way you were reacting, that the possibility of him crawling under the table to bury his face between your thighs hadn’t even crossed your mind. The surprise and hesitation in your twitches and subtle movements told him everything he needed to know.

The distant, familiar chatter of real customers beyond the thin barrier tightened the knot in your stomach, throwing you into the reality of the moment. It became an unrelenting presence, grounding you in the tension that hung in the air. Meanwhile, the hot, damp breath of your husband seethed against the cold slickness seeping from your cunt, a stark contrast that deepened the unease coursing through you.

A shiver ran up your spine, your body trembling as nervous spasms raked through your bones when he edged even closer—his hair grazing your skin in that familiar way you knew so well. It wasn’t uncommon for your husband to spend most of his time down here, yet no matter how often it happened, the anxiety it stirred within you never waned.

You had an even harder time controlling how your body writhed as you felt the warmth of his tongue flush itself against your sopping heat. Your nails pressed into the soft wood of the table, digging in as you braced yourself, your body jerking. The spasms faltered for a moment, your body going rigid once he started violently lapping his tongue against your aching clit. The abrasing way his beard rubbed against the skin of your thighs sent you into a spiral.

You had expected him to fuck you directly on the table, to take you in the way you were used to—but instead, he toyed with you from beneath it, the unanticipated choice leaving you bewildered. You had been aching for what felt like ages, the desperation almost unbearable. It was a struggle to keep your mouth from parting—your head tilting back, eyes closing as your husband began to ease the tension that had gripped you for so long.

All you wanted was to whimper, to cry out for him, but you couldn’t—not with the patrons so close, just beyond the curtains. If he had only fucked you as you’d expected, he would’ve easily pressed a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, as he had in similar situations before. But this time, you knew he had chosen this path deliberately, testing whether you could hold your composure.

It was his unspoken way of making you atone for the ploy you used to get him here. He was a patient lover, understanding that even though you had pulled him away from his work—which he didn’t mind as much as he let on—you were just too eager to be patient. Always attuned to your needs, he was more than willing to satisfy the cravings of his most cherished wife, finding joy in fulfilling your desires—no matter the time or place. The absence of his familiar presence behind the bar, and the slight potential for upsetting customers, felt like a small price to pay in exchange for the chance to fully indulge in you. To unravel and claim you in ways only he could.

His tongue was relentless. He sloppily sucked and licked at your needy clit, his nose rubbing against the mound of flesh above as he devoured you. His hands were as equally hungry as his mouth, and in need of something to grab. He manhandles your legs, draping them roughly over his shoulders, his fingers gripping at your plush thighs as he curls his arms around them. In doing so, he pulled you closer, your back slipping against the booth as he guided you down, drawing you nearer to him with a purposeful force. His cock was begging to be set free from its cloth prison as he sunk his tongue deep into the void of your cunt. The rhythmic, wet sounds became a melody more captivating than any song he'd ever heard, especially when paired with the soft mewls of you struggling to stay collected—and most importantly—silent.

You can both hear and feel his laugh against you, a deep, low chuckle that carries a mix of arousal and amusement, vibrating through you with every huff. He found the way he could make you squirm incredibly sexy, the reaction sparking a deep sense of pride within him. There was something about the ease with which he could unsettle you that thrilled him, and he took great satisfaction in knowing how little effort it took. He knew all too well that it only took something as simple as a certain look to have you coming undone—and right now, he was determined to make you come undone. All over his tongue.

Vander knows just how wild his fingers can make you on their own— yet especially so when paired with the mastery of his expertly quick and thoughtful tongue.

He wasted no time in combining the two, intent on making you crack under the pressure. While Vander didn’t particularly want to be caught by patrons, either—or, for that matter, by one of your employees—his desire to make you scream was always his top priority.

He grips your thighs with more gusto than before, continuing to pull them further apart in hopes of expanding his ‘workspace’. He releases one of them, the fingers of that hand moving to replace the tongue that was working its familiar magic inside you. He doesn’t give you so much as a single moment to collect your thoughts as he makes the exchange, effortlessly ramming and curling two up into your cunt as his tongue continues its prior attack on your clit.

You swore you were seeing stars behind your eyelids, your grip on the table faltering just like your efforts to stay in control. You couldn't even attempt to cover your mouth, not with the relentless—yet unintentional—way your hands found their way under the table, tangling in his hair and gripping with enough force to pull some strands loose.

You greedily buck your hips down to meet the thrusting of his digits, pulling his head as far into your cunt as possible. He doesn’t complain. He never would. Maybe it was his own type of preferred masochism, but he’d consider suffocating and perishing in between your legs in this way, a noble death.

Your toes ache from the force with which you’re curling them, your legs clutching and winding around his shoulders and neck like a python.

By now, you had abandoned all caution, hope, and effort to moan quietly. You were practically screaming over the deliciously knowing way he prodded his thick fingers into your cunt. He had long forgotten to move them in and out. He knew exactly what spot drove you mad, and he made his most conscious effort to curl them into it as rapidly and frequently as possible.

As much as Vander adored your cries, they were truly becoming far too loud. He really didn’t want any curious folks to come wandering in to spoil the moment when you were so close to your inevitable peak. He has no choice but to silence you. With the hand that remained on your other thigh, he removed it from its resting place, reaching up from beneath the table as he gazes up at you. With a smirk against your cunt, and his eyes studying how your head was still thrown back against the booth, eyes shut tighter than a steel trap—-he shoves two of his free fingers into your mouth. Your eyes shoot open. You look down at him, earning a wink from your husband as he smirks harder against your cunt. The eye contact was filthy, in the most erotic way possible. It always made you feel slightly awkward, in an oddly arousing way, when you made such a type of contact with him in the heat of a moment like this.

You willingly sucked on his fingers, now understanding the purpose for his actions after a thoughtful moment. He groans against your cunt, luckily the sound being muffled by how much his mouth was buried into it. Your tongue swirls itself rapaciously around the digits, drool falling from your mouth as you did so. Vander simply can’t tear his eyes away from such a sight. He groans more as you lower your own gaze, your expression deadly with seduction. He was almost pissy that both of his hands were occupied at the moment. He was anxious to palm at his cock, desperate to find friction of his own now.

His tongue and lips were still working their relentless job on your clit, suckling every few seconds amidst the slurping. The way his facial hair brushes against it every now and then almost sends you into hysterics—bordering on a full blown frenzy.

Your legs are quaking, twitching and spasming with every harsh lick to your clit. It was so sensitive, you couldn’t help how it shocked your nerves, causing them all to fire simultaneously. Electricity burned in your veins, desperate to chase your orgasm as it made your hips flick against his mouth faster than he could lap at you.

Your orgasm burrowed itself into the pit of your stomach, commanding you to follow it down to your cunt.

It didn’t take much longer for you to keel over the edge of your impending climax. It burst through you, your legs clamping shut around his face—a move which Vander was used to by now—-hips mindlessly gyrating against his face as you brutally cum around his fingers. Vander can feel your walls clenching and relaxing back to back with each additional thrust he gave, your voice begging to slip past his fingers as you come undone. He thought you had been dripping wet at the start of this—but he had been sorely mistaken. Your arousal was seeping out of you despite his fingers plugging you up.

“Attagirl..” He whispers against you, giving your clit a few final licks before reluctantly pulling away. The grip on his hair finally loosened as your body went almost completely limp. Your breathing came in rapid, shallow gasps, just as desperate as Vander, himself, now was. His cock was so hard, it felt like it was being choked by his trousers. But he had the patience of a saint. He could wait as long as needed for you to collect yourself once again.

“So, was the service to your liking?” he asks, his tone teasing—and entirely rhetorical—as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The fingers that had been in your mouth slide free as he takes a moment to compose himself.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles, clearly amused by how speechless you’ve become.

“Just don’t forget to tip your server..” He teases, alluding to the painfully obvious fact, that this situation is far from over.

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altacctforastarion · 3 months ago

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Under the desk

So I had a thought, what if you lead the spawns with Astarion but he’s like “actually can you handle like all of it. I just want to chill and go do things when you tell me to.” And so, you being the leader of the Underdark while Astarion plays housewife (kind of) and talks to people for you/goes out on his own to get things or whatever was born. And then I was like, what if he was horny and you were busy and he ate you out under the desk while you worked? What if someone barged in, rude as hell, angry that you were in charge and not him, demanding to speak with him, and he just moves your chair, climbs out from under the desk and lets the guy have it after wiping his mouth?

Also ignore the vampires can’t go in homes uninvited rule for the sake of porn pls and thank you.

Warnings: 18+, mdni (you’ll be blocked on sight. I check my likes/reblogs/follows constantly.), oral sex, you ride him in your office chair, kinda exhibitionism, he kills a guy, you have sex while he’s all bloody and the body is in the room, Hot angry Astarion being a sub just for you, praise kink, aftercare not super included but it is referenced a bit and with all my fics just assume it happens 🤷🏻

You’d woken up to his lips and tongue on your neck, and assumed he’d been feeding, but the lack of pain disproved that quickly. “Astarion?” You question, groggily, your mind still in between sleep and consciousness. He’s clearly been using his skills in stealth, because his body is on top of you, his arms framing your head while his face is buried in your neck.

“Good morning, darling, I’ve missed you. You slept for so long,” He doesn’t move away as he speaks, his lips brushing against your skin, and the kisses and licking resuming, and one of your hands comes up to stroke his hair, tracing the pointed tip of his ear occasionally. It’s true, you’d slept in a bit in preparation for the day. Making deals with a multitude of groups meant sending and receiving a multitude of letters, revising plans constantly to do the very best for your little slice of the Underdark.

“There will be plenty of time for all of this when I’m done with what I need to do, but the list keeps growing and I need to get started. I’ll wash your hair tonight, if that will make it up to you? Use that nice soap I bought when I went topside last?” You already feel heat stirring in your stomach from how he’s lavishing your neck with attention, and you’ve woken up enough to register the hard bulge of his cock against your pelvis.

“If you want to make it up to me, indulge me now,” He pouts against your neck, and you can’t decide if it’s an invitation or a demand, as his hips roll just slightly, pressing his cock against you despite already knowing what your answer will be. Not that you mind, of course. You’d encouraged him to be open about what he wants, sexual or otherwise, and he’ll always respect a no you actually mean and won’t be wavered upon.

“I’m sorry, love, my schedule is clear this afternoon and tomorrow. And I’m not taking visitors today, so you can stay with me in the office if you want? Keep me company? Maybe help me with plans?” You laugh as you speak, and one of his fangs pokes into your neck, not enough to pierce or hurt, as a show of disapproval before he sits up, on his knees between your legs.

“Fine. I’ll sit with you, but I won’t be helping with plans. That’s your job, I am lucky enough to only need to do some talking and rule enforcement as needed. Both things I enjoy, of course.”

“Of course,” you sit up and kiss him, and he wastes no time before pulling you onto his lap, feeling a smile on his lips when you let out a giggle, “Mm, more of this later. I promise.”

—

To his credit, despite being horny and clingy, he brings you water and burnt breakfast to eat while you work before sitting on the edge of your desk instead of the chairs across from you or the seat just for him next to you, and chatting with you while you respond to letters, keeping his boredom contained for longer than you’d thought he would.

“Darling, do you still want my help?”

“Certainly, I’ve got plans for some shops that need built somewhere, plenty of letters that need responses, where would you like to start?” You don’t actually think he’ll actually help, of course, but you smile up at him anyways. His hands touch either side of your face, and he’s eyeing your pulse.

“You’re still excited from this morning. Why don’t you let me help with that?” He leans down, lips inches from yours, but the hands on your face don’t let you lean in, expecting a response from you. He’s right, of course, it’s been a struggle to focus on your tasks instead of thoughts of his body under yours, the sounds that leave him when you sink down on him slow- no, no you can’t focus on that now. His lips widen into a wolfish grin, and you know he’s picked up on your pulse, perhaps even your scent.

“I’d love to go to bed with you, beautiful, but I really need to get these done today. Just a few more hours if I’m fast.”

He sighs out his disappointment, and starts to pull away without kissing you, but your hands catch on his shirt and pull him down, one coming up behind his head to help you deepen the kiss, your tongue slipping into his mouth. Astarion moans into the kiss, and the hands on your face begin to travel as he moves without breaking the kiss, sitting closer to you on the edge of your desk. You bite his lip and pull back, and he almost falls onto you while trying to chase your lips, his hands slapping your desk to regain his balance.

“Just a little break? Slip away for an hour or so?” His voice is pleading, hands reaching for you again, but you sit back in your seat, leaning away from him.

“We just took a break, love,” you can’t help but to tease him, watching him deflate, “Now either go back where you were of get off of my desk, I need to work.”

Astarion’s red eyes light up, and he pushes your chair back, ignoring when you question him as he drops to his knees in front of you, moving backwards into the space under your desk, his hands going to your thighs and drawing you in until you can barely see him. “Will this help you work, my love?”

You look down in surprise, “What?”

“Well, I just thought maybe you’d want some relief, with how fast your heart is beating, and this way you can finish your work. What do you say, darling?”

The arrogance in his tone annoys you, and you’ve half a mind to kick him out of the office entirely, to tell him to go find his own relief and leave you alone, not wanting to let him win you over, but it’s too late, you’ve been won, and all you can do now is make your next move to regain the control you’d planned on having. You reach down and grab his hands, bringing them under your skirt, feeling him grab your underwear to pull it off of you but keeping his hands still, “Fine. But you’ll do as I say, or you’ll go somewhere else and wait for me to be done.”

You feel his hands tighten around your underwear, “Yes, of course, love. Whatever you say. May I?” It’s not often that he’s submissive, and that makes his request for permission that much sweeter, a special treat just for you, a beautiful man between your legs under your desk while he trusts you with not just his body, but the leadership of more than seven thousand of his kind as well as himself.

You give him the affirmative, and your hand finds its way into his hair, burying into his curls after he’s removed your underwear. You pull just slightly, and he makes a pleased humming sound beneath you, “Go slow, and don’t distract me. Keep your hands on my thighs, I’ll touch you later when I have the time.”

“Of course, darling.” Astarion sounds eager, head already moving towards you, pulling his own hair in the process, and you wonder how obedient he’ll be as you let go of his hair and pick up your quill. You feel him move closer, the hands he puts on your thighs pulling you in, and you feel his hot breath on your pussy, but his tongue touches your thigh instead, licking and kissing, teasing you. You allow it, though your thighs tense in anticipation everytime he moves.

You focus back on your work, reading over the letter you’re responding to and trying to rearrange your thoughts, resuming your writing, and the second your quill starts to scratch on your parchment his tongue finds your clit. You gasp, and his hands tighten around you, tongue moving against you slow as you’d asked and it’s deliciously agonizing. You fight the urge to buck against him, or to drop your quill and grab his hair, to pull him against you and make demands until you’re dripping and sated, instead you try to think of a good response to a proposed agreement, your free hand clenching on top of your desk.

—

Astarion dares to suck your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it lightly and relishing in the low moan he gets in response. Your thighs tense under his hands and when he speeds up his movements your hips jerk towards him as you gasp, and he’d really planned on slowing back down but how can he? With your taste on his tongue and the little sounds you’re making, it’s impossible really, so instead he keeps going faster, and he hears you drop your quill before he feels the hand in his hair, pulling him back.

“I told you to go slow, beautiful. And here I thought you were going to be good for me.” He hears your voice above him, stern but shaky, and he’s glad you can’t see the way he smiles, proud of himself at how he has you wavering. He does want to be good, however, craving your praise and needing you to be pleased enough to keep your promise of taking care of him later.

“I must have forgotten, apologies, my love. Let me make it up to you.” He practically purrs and he hears you laugh, amused and breathless.

“Be good and remember this time.” There’s no humor in your voice, and he knows you’ll make good on your threats of kicking him out. You let go of his hair and he hears you pick up your quill again as he goes back to his task, licking into you slowly, long languid strokes against your core. Your body tenses under his hands, and then you melt as he works you, hips occasionally bucking before your body relaxes again.

He fights the urge to speed up when you moan, your thighs shaking around his head, his grip on you tightening as he thinks about how easy it would be to keep you still long enough for you to finish, but the craving for your approval wins, and though the grip remains the same, so does his slow pace.

Astarion’s falls into a peaceful state, licking you how you’ve asked, his head resting against your thigh, the joys of obedience taking the shape of your free hand going to his hair, petting his curly hair, and your voice above him, “Good boy, doing so well for me. I’m almost done now, just a few more things to do. When I’m on the last one, I’ll let you make me cum.”

He whines, wanting to make you cum now, but he so desperately wants your approval, so he flicks his tongue against your clit, slow firm licks from your entrance up, and your thighs twitch in time with him.

—

You’re close to your release, but you need more constant stimulation, and he’s done as you’ve asked, keeping you so close to the edge but not pushing you over. You grip his hair, not enough to hurt, but he moans his approval, and you a shiver trails up your spine at the feeling.

But then you hear rapid knocks on your front door, along with an angry voice, “I need to speak with you, I’ve waited long enough, and I’m sick of it!”

The spawns name evades you, but you know the man. A fool who’s been angry ever since Astarion told everyone you’ll be handling more of his share of leadership. He’d tried to run for a position on the council, but he’d gotten few votes, and voiced his suspicions of you tampering with the election. You’d thought about it, honestly, but it hadn’t been needed in the end.

“I’m coming in! You are not too important to listen to me, no matter what you believe!” You hear the doorknob turning before you can do anything, and then footsteps march towards your office, and you realize there’s no good way to get Astarion out from under your desk before the man reaches the second door you should have locked, the first being the front door, just in case anyone had ignored the office hours listing as the fool had.

Astarion stops his licking, and you feel him draw back, his head resting on your lower thigh, and his thumbs move on your skin in what you think is supposed to be soothing. It helps, only slightly, but your heart still races as the man opens the door to your office and barges in.

“I know you rigged the election. Everyone wanted me on the council. How dare you?” Fool, as you’ve decided to call him, accuses you, red faced and angry, standing in the doorway.

“I did no such thing. Did you speak to all of the, what do we have now? Close to seven thousand, five hundred others, or did you just decide that everyone wanted you? Get out of my home, office hours are closed today.” Your voice comes out a lot more cold than you thought you were capable of, and Astarion gives your thighs a proud squeeze, and then, he leans back in, his tongue immediately finding your clit, and he starts to lick you again, slow and silent.

You bite back the sounds you’d make, and stare the man down instead, hoping he would leave. Instead, Fool glowers at you, “I didn’t need to, everyone is talking about how incompetent you are, and how someone needs to take your place, if Astarion is going to allow you to take his. Where is he anyways? What have you demanded he do while you take his job?”

Astarion’s nails dig into your thighs, and you feel anger radiating from him, but his tongue continues to work you, as if he’s unbothered, keeping his slow pace on your sensitive clit.

“Gods, you’re pathetic. I didn’t take his job, and you won’t be taking mine. Astarion is busy doing his job right now,” His hands squeeze you, and his thumbs resume their soothing patterns, apparently pleased with his job, “and I am doing mine. Get out of my home, Fool. I’m not going to spend my time arguing with a power-hungry man who barges into homes to accost the residents.”

Fool laughs without humor, and turns to look over shoulder as he yells, “Astarion! Come get your dog so we can speak like men!”

Astarion pushes your chair back slowly, and you look down at him, eyes wide. He smirks up at you, face full of rage, face still wet, and moves out from beneath your desk, standing and turning to face Fool, who looks impossibly more pale, clearly not thinking your partner would hear him, and obviously not knowing he’d been in the room at all. He raises his hands and starts to back away as Astarion starts to walk towards him, surprisingly calm steps for a man ready to kill.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea that-“

Astarion cuts him off, his voice harsh, “That I could hear you calling my partner a dog? That you walked into my house to berate my partner while thinking I was away?” He stops walking, a foot away from the man, and wipes his face with the back of his arm, the man watches his arm move, flinching, and fails to notice Astarion’s other hand going for the blade you know he’s placed in the wall behind a painting of the two of you. The painting falls to the ground as Astarion quickly puts the dagger to the man’s throat, shoving him into the doorframe with his other hand.

The man’s voice is small as he cowers, “They said you were doing your job. I didn’t know you were here or I would never-“

He’s cut off once again, this time with a deceptively genuine seeming laugh from Astarion, “I was doing my job, which you so rudely interrupted, by the way. And you shouldn’t have entered my home whether I was here or not, and you certainly shouldn’t have spoken to them that way. You’ve made a mistake- what was it you called him, darling?” He looks at you over his shoulder, and his eyes soften just slightly when he sees you.

“Fool. I can’t remember his name, Fool seemed fitting.”

Astarion throws you a smile before turning back to the man, “Ah, yes. Fool. Very fitting, don’t you think, Fool? Shut up, that was rhetorical, I don’t want to hear your voice unless it’s an apology.”

Fool looks up at him, and makes to speak, before he realizes it’s not Astarion he should apologize to, looking at you, pleading with his eyes and his voice, “I’m sorry. Please, tell him to spare me. I’ll leave, you’ll never see me again, I swear.”

“Oh, no. You didn’t want me to call the shots, remember? So I won’t, Astarion can do what he likes, just like you wanted.”

The man’s throat is slit as soon as you’re done speaking, and Astarion lets him fall, blood staining the pretty rug you’d picked out only a month ago. “On the rug? You couldn’t have gotten him into the hallway?”

“I’ll get you a new one, or maybe someone can get the stain out? I don’t know, it’s bloody now and if you’re willing, I’d very much like for you to cum.” He looks at you, blood splatter on his face, eyes dark with lust though you can sense the anger still boiling within.

“Fine, I’ll finish the last of the plans the day after tomorrow. I suppose you were very good, getting rid of my problems for me. Come here, beautiful, have your reward.”

He walks over to you quickly, and starts to drop to his knees but you stand before he can, pulling him into a kiss, blood transferring from his cheek to yours. Your leg slides between his, your body pressing against his hardening cock, and you rock against him. He moans into your mouth, his tongue pressing against your lips, asking for permission. When you grant it the kiss becomes tongue and teeth, and your hands find his hips, urging him to grind against you.

When he’s hard you pull back and he whines, but stays where he was, “My good boy, you’ve been lovely. Ask for what you want, beautiful.”

His eyes close for a second, and you watch his face and ears tint with pink as he speaks, submission like this is far from a second nature, and though he enjoys it thoroughly, it’s not hard to have him flustered, “I want to make you cum. Please. Then I want to be inside of you, however you want me.”

“You don’t want to cum first?” You tease, knowing the answer, and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t respond with the attitude you expect, instead he drops to his knees, and looks up at you expectantly. One hand goes to his hair and the other on his jaw, pulling his head back, “How do you want to make me cum, Astarion?”

“However you want, I just want you to cum, please. I already wanted that, but the way you spoke to that man- I just want to please you, please let me.” He sounds desperate, and you really shouldn’t keep teasing him, it’s unfair, but you do anyways.

“Oh, that’s very sweet, but I asked you how you wanted to do it. You should find an answer, or I’ll make myself cum while you kneel and watch. I want to hear you ask for it.” You give his head a little shake, the way one would play with a dog, and a shiver runs through him.

—

You look beautiful like this, standing above him, holding him this way, commanding his obedience. He wouldn’t do this for anyone else, but there’s something so thrilling of submitting to you, something so rewarding about the praise and touches you give him.

He sighs, flustered and turned on, and so very impatient, “I want to use my mouth again, please darling? Sit down and let me make you cum.”

“How nice of you to ask,” you taunt, “of course you can.”

You take a seat and his head is beneath your skirt immediately, his hands returning to your thighs and his nails biting into your skin. Astarion licks you fast this time, chasing your praise, chasing the reward of hearing the sounds you’ll make. His tongue flicks against your clit rapidly, applying light suction, and he moans against you when your hands grip his hair, pulling him in and grinding your face against him.

Your breathing picks up, your hips jerk against him, and he knows your close when you moan his name and keep his head still, his tongue working your clit with precision. You cum with a cry, and he licks up the wetness, savoring your taste and working you until you pull him away.

“Stand up, beautiful.” He does as he’s told, watching you catch your breath, your head thrown back and your eyes closed, and barely stops himself from touching his cock, just to get some relief.

When you’ve recovered, still red-faced and panting, you stand and go for his pants, struggling with the laces until he unties them for you, and pulling them down to his knees before urging him to sit. He looks up at you, eager and wanting, glad now more than ever that you’d picked such a large chair. He’d make fun of you at the time, but now he gets the appeal, as you remove your skirt and press your cunt against his mostly untouched cock, your knees on either side of his hips.

—

He groans beneath you, and you pull back a bit, just to watch his desperate, pleading eyes find yours, before you go back to how you were, grinding against him gently. His hands go to your hips, holding tight but not attempting to move or rush you. “Please, darling?”

Astarion’s voice is strained, and you relish in your control over him, smiling down at him and cupping his jaw, “So good if you to ask.”

His body tensed as you reach between your bodies, hand encircling his cock and lining it up with your entrance, rubbing it against yourself for a moment and letting out a little moan as you feel his hands clench tighter around you, maybe even leaving bruises on your hips. You sink down slowly, and when he’s inside you fully, you drop your head on his shoulder and listen to the whine he lets out.

“My pretty good boy, do you want to cum now?” You kiss his neck, sweet and kind despite your teasing.

“Please let me, my love.”

“Of course, beautiful. You’ve earned it.” You lick a stripe up his neck and watch him shake, before you start riding him, sparing both of you the teasing and moving your body with vigor, listening to his choked gasps and moans and whispering praise in his ear, the head of his cock ramming into that spot inside of you and causing your thighs to tremble. You won’t last long, too high strung, too sensitive after your previous orgasm.

“B-bite me, please, love.” He stumbles over his words, half from pleasure, half from the rare request, and you oblige him immediately, biting down lightly on the unscarred side of his neck, and you feel as he moans, his arms wrapping around you and his hips thrusting up into you. The angle change has you gasping, and you bite down harder as you cum around him, not breaking skin but certainly leaving a mark.

He lets out a cry, and cums inside of you, hips jerking upwards with no real pace or direction, a little whimper in his throat from the sensitivity as you continue to move on his cock, riding out your own orgasm.

—

The two of you clean eachother up and return to bed, his arm around your waist to guide you on your shaking legs. When you lay down he pulls you to him immediately, demanding your attention as if you hadn’t given him plenty all day, but you aren’t complaining.

As you both start to doze, a nap in the near future, you remember the body in your office, “You’ll need to get rid of Fool, and you promised we’d get a new rug, can we go tomorrow?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll remove our unwelcome guest, and we can go find a new rug tomorrow, but you did promise no work tomorrow, and that you’d give me plenty of attention, don’t forget.”

“How could I ever forget the demanding vampire that goes under my desk when he isn’t getting enough attention?” You ask, laughing, and he pulls you in for a kiss, a smile on his lips.

#bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #spawn astarion #astarion #astarion fanfic #spawn astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #astarion smut #sub astarion x reader #sub astarion #praise kink for Astarion because you can’t tell me he doesn’t love it #also you bite him. idk I think sub Astarion might be into that #he’ll kill for you and for himself and for fun

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