Datasets:
mickume
/
dnd_drow

Dataset card Data Studio Files
xet
Community
text
stringlengths
0
41.4k
Astarion shivers and you drive your teeth into his skin. He jerks forward, giving his neck over to you. His breath catches when your tongue laps and pulses as if you’re pulling waves of his blood into your lips. Your teeth graze the soft, perfect, skin. Your senses alert and ache with his scent.
When you’re satisfied with his wanton shivers, you pull away from him to inspect your work. A gorgeous red mark blooms on his neck, and you smile. You lick over it, causing him to twitch, and you sigh happily.
You rub your cheeks, your neck, your wrists, all over him, trying to make him smell like you. You’ll be damned if he leaves this room and anyone mistakes him for single while getting you both food. Vice versa, you desperately smell for where he’s most potent. Not being a tiefling, the obvious areas aren’t where his scent glands exist. To top that off, he’s so damn clean all the time. You’re just barely able to rub against him enough to soothe the ache. He waits patiently, letting you take control like a giant cat.
Finally you’re satisfied that you smell like each other, but determine you’ll make another round of scenting him after you get him sweating. The pull in your stomach is seizing, almost fully shifting into cramps. You know you don’t have much longer before you’re fully overtaken by your heat. You take his hand, and lead him to the bed. It squeaks under you, and you’re starkly aware of how no one’s getting rest for the next seven days or so.
Your tongue feels useless again when you look into Astarion’s eyes, "Is this- are you okay?"
His hand goes to your cheek, and he slowly kisses your head.
"I’m more than okay, darling. Let’s help you with these."
You’re hot, too hot.
you need these clothes off
. You tear at your leather straps, hearing some stitching give way as you throw it off. Oh well. That’s what happens when you’re stronger than the clothes you wear.
Furiously, you start unbuttoning your pants. Again you’re stopped by Astarion. He grabs your hands and lifts them to his mouth. You concentrate on your breathing, on the blooming desire forming in your core. You try to relax and lean back. Let him take care of you.
He feels so soft against you. His lips featherdust over your hands, kissing each knuckle in turn. Slow, methodical. His fingers massage your wrist as he goes, stroking long circles over your muscles before his blunt nails send gooseflesh down your arm. His breath ghosts over the palm of your hand, and your fingers cup his face, his chin. Your chest squeezes, a pang of tenderness sinking through the unbearable heat coming from your core.
You love him. You’re tantalized by him. You’re safe. You let yourself release a moan for him.
Turning your hand over, he kisses the length down your knuckle to your finger. His eyes dart to yours, for only a moment, before his perfect mouth opens and his tongue licks the distance down your finger. You shiver, trapped between watching him and wanting him. You’re usually lifting heavy weapons or moving boulders with your hands. He has always been, by far, the softest and gentlest thing you’ve ever touched. You cannot resist the surge of lust when you see and feel your digits slip into his warm passages. Enveloped by his silky entrance, or swallowed by his slutty lips. You bite your lower lip, resisting the urge to interrupt him. 
He slips your finger out, all the way to the end, swirling his tongue around your tip and gazing heatedly up at you before sinking back down. You imagine again, flipping him onto his back and taking him right now. There’s only so much strength a woman can have. Instead, you raise another finger. He eagerly adjusts so it can join the first. He moans brazenly for you. Sucking and relaxing his throat so you can push back into him.
You can’t help but slip your free hand behind his head. Your nails rake across his hair, gently moving him deeper. He cries out pitifully for you. You know he can take more, but you ease up, letting him breathe. Your dark expression is met with his glittering, playful eyes. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you; knows how it drives you wild.
Loves how it feels.
"You’re such a good boy for me," you murmur. He relaxes his muscles and slowly closes his eyes, moaning again for you.
You push deeper, feeling the soft contractions of his throat. The warm slick of him sends fire to your core, and you hitch your breath. 
You can’t take this anymore.
You draw him closer, breath ghosting over his neck, whispering hot in his ear as your fingers pull away.
"Please... please..."
He’s shifting around you, enjoying the touches, shuddering at the attention to his neck and ear. Not paying attention to your wet fingers. You sneak them down your pants, smearing his juices on your clit. You sigh happily, lap at his neck over his bite marks. Another shudder. You ghost your fingers over your lower lips, knowing you don’t have much time before-
He notices. He stiffens and you whine loudly as his strong hand latches around your forearm. You’re stronger, bigger, than he, but he’s so soft. Gently, but intentionally, he pulls your fingers back, and your arm out, before you can pleasure yourself. He leans back to pull you from his neck but ducks back in to face you, eyes burning with authority.
touch yourself." 
You gasp, trying to joke a smile out of him. He doesn’t even quirk his brow. He’s serious.
"You’re not taking this away from me. You’re mine for the next few days and I decide when and how often you come."
You consider him. You could just throw him out if you got desperate enough. Though you know he does
to take care of you... why not let him?
"Do you understand...
You want to test his resolve so you go to cup his bulge straining against his pants. He quickly swats your hand away, waiting patiently for an answer.
"Sure. I mean, yes." Words sound wrong, silly, in your mouth. You don’t need to talk anymore. You nod for emphasis. 
If he wants to play, well hells your next few days are an open schedule. Let’s play.
"That's my darling," he responds, smiling that devilish grin. He licks his lips, thoughtfully, "You know, you smell stronger than usual. It’s," he sniffs smoothly, as if over a warm, fresh pie or bread, "It’s intoxicating..."
You nod. You know all too well the divine Zariel blood in your veins has warped, changed. An aphrodisiac effect through your blood, your juices and while in heat, your sweat. You wouldn’t be surprised if Astarion breaks down over the next week, lost in a haze of pleasure. The delectable heat between you is electric, beckoning for you both to fall already. The only thing that compares is literal ambrosia. Men and women have lost themselves before to your taste. Some never came back.
You’re being dramatic, of course, but they weren’t the same after, that’s for sure.
He pushes you back. Taking the hint, you sit on the bed. He leans into your space, pushing you further. The cool headframe bites into your shoulder blades. You’re both numb to it and feeling everything too much at the same time. The soft bedding under you melts like butter. 
Astarion brings the heat of his mouth in close, nuzzling your neck in a mirror to what you’d just done to him. You try to hold still for him, fisting your hands so tightly into the sheets you think they’ll rip. He breathes you in, heavily. It’s a familiar lust. There’s complacency in it, trust and relaxation. Despite this new dilemma, it didn’t change the months of building a working relationship together. You’re comforted by him. He’s lost and content within you.
You pull back before he can go any farther with his perfect tongue, twisting to look him in the eyes.
"Be careful, love. If you bite... If you drink, you may lose yourself in it." He scoffs and you insist, "I’m serious, it’ll be stronger than usual. Much stronger." 
He nods, letting you see in the solemnity of his face that he understands. He hears you.
"I’ll be careful."
You nod fervently, trying to work through the fire in your brain. He layers a few kisses down your neck to your shoulder, cooling away the ache in your muscles. The burst of pain and pleasure blossoms behind your eyes as he sinks his teeth into you. Your tail wraps around his waist, trying to pull him closer as your nails bite into his back. Whimpered moans tumble from your lips as heat spreads from where he bit. After a couple of blissful moments, realization dawns. He’s not drinking your blood.
It goes straight to your loins when it clicks. He’s just biting you. Marking you. Showing the world who you belong to.
Astarion kisses to your chest and roughly nips at your breasts, leaving love marks here and there. He doesn’t suck too hard, gauging your sensitivity to keep the balance between hurting and pleasing. He makes his way to your lower side, sinks his teeth in again. You howl and twist but your heat has made you infuriatingly, alternatingly strong and weak and, at this moment, you couldn’t hold a kettle let alone overpower him. He marvels and holds you still, grinning against your skin.
He licks and kisses at the bite mark throbbing on your side, humming and presumably deciding whether it needs another blemish for company. Your heart screams and strains in your chest as you wait for him to move. His mouth latches back on and you stiffen, and relax again, over and over. He sucks a hickey, then another. You hear your own whine trickle over the air and try at his grip, but his hands only tighten like iron to hold you in place.
He moves down to your pants, finally, mercifully, working to take them off. Instead, he only peels off the belt from your sweat soaked skin. He chuckles in your ear, ignoring your groan, and kisses up your belly. You’re shivering. He sits back on his heels to take you in. 
"You’re beautiful, you know that, baby?" He leans up again to kiss your nose and forehead. You shiver under his attention. "You’re fucking gorgeous. I love you, my sweet, generous thing. So good for me." 
You tilt your head up for him and he takes your lips. Swirling you into a kiss. Your head is fuzzy. You’re under his influence, reacting in passion with his love. You open for him, moaning. Slaking your thirst with his. He tastes so good. You want to devour him, want to hold him there and never let him leave. He’d be happy. You can make him so happy.
He glides his lips under your chin, pushing your head up further. This time he can’t help himself. Just as you feel his teeth sink into your neck properly, his fingers find your folds. 
You know the whole tavern below can hear your pitiful serenade. Know you’re bucking into his hand, trying to rub into him. Fireworks explode in your vision. You shake as he holds you, his other arm wrapping under you. Fingers fist into your hair, jerking you towards an angle better suited for him to feast. 
He slowly drinks, every pull of blood like a sweet melody playing against your heart. He patiently rubs your sex, absentmindedly circling your clit as his fingers rub between your lips, just barely touching around your entrance. Euphoria takes hold and you know your cheeks stain a darker crimson than your skin. He moans into you, as if surprised. He swallows eagerly now, lapping hungrily at your spilled blood. You can hear small weak cries, noises you rarely make. Astarion grips his arm under you feverishly, pulling your body into a curve. His fingers on your plump clit press, but still. You whine again, loudly, in complaint, but he doesn’t respond.
The ceiling dips, your mind weakening in the surge of blood loss. You can feel your slick gushing for him. Desperate to be bred and filled and taken in every way. A furious burst of energy slashes through your gut and you push up, flipping the both of you. Astarion’s teeth come out of your neck and the crimson leaking down your chest flecks his white shirt and face. 
He growls, dangerously. His eyes glow bright red as they scavenge over you, daring you to continue. When you don’t move, urging your mind to come back to the mortal plane, he clenches his hand still cupping your sex. You can’t help but moan at the rough treatment, bending over at the shoot of electricity. He takes the opportunity to lap at what he can reach of the blood on your neck. Astarion’s fingers brush harshly at your folds, teasing and bruising over your clit. It’s maddening. It’s intoxicating!
His fangs sink back into your skin and your shocked voice shoots into the room, calling his name.
Astarion snarls. His palm rubs against your clit and you cling to him. With little more than a grunt of effort, his warmed body is gone and the world shifts again. Your face presses into the mattress and your pants are torn away. Where once you’d make a quip, it’s all lost to the vice grip of lust wrapping around you both. You’re bared for him. Naked, for him alone.
His blunt nails scrape over your skin, causing angry red welts to spread heat through your skull. A wet harsh tongue soothes over them before he’s lost to his pleasure and his teeth graze again. The pinpricks make you gasp and buck.
Astarion’s hand is instantly on the back of your neck, keeping you in place. His hot breath slicing into your brain fog:
"Stay put or I’ll have you bound."
"Promise," you bite back.
A growl strangles from your throat as he bites your ear. Your head lolls further to the side, the beating ache from your ear going straight to your core.
"Cheeky little-" Astarion swallows his words and instead leans his weight back.
Pain blossoms and streaks up your back as he hits your ass. It’s sharp and painful and oh so fucking delicious. You can’t help the pathetic mewling whine. Can’t stop the pleasured moans that come after the second smack.
Or the third. Or the fourth.
You squeeze your eyes shut and your legs press tightly together. Searing pain strikes  your numbed ass and you call his name, unhindered. Your body moves, dry humping the bed like the animal you are, and even through Astarion’s muddled thoughts he finds time to laugh against your ass.
His teeth slip out from your right cheek. You gasp in astonishment and embarrassment. A resounding slap comes again, making the weeping angry wound trickle your fine blood down your leg. Before it can touch the sheets, Astarion’s warm mouth draws a line back to the entrance wound, sucking and lapping across it with strangled moans. You can’t wait to see the bite marks later. Can’t wait to see the circling bruise and puncture wounds on your ass and neck, all the way up and down your body. You thrill in his art on you. Being broken down and remade in an image of
. You bend to his command. You open for him. Only him.
A quick, merciful moment of soft fabric being pulled to the side and you feel him. Finally,
, you feel him press against your entrance. His hands grasp your hips in concentration, carefully sinking into your heated core. Your aching cramps flex and almost painfully release for him, sensationally loosening your stomach and knees. You ease your front and face down into the pillow, praying for a quick and swift release. You hear him gasp over you, letting you engulf him, filling you to your edge.
He looses his voice, cursing and mumbling how good you feel.
The curling flame of debauchery coats your bodies, both of you desperate to screw it out of your systems. Astarion is plunging in and out of you, furious to fill and smack your hips together and take, take,
. You grip for purchase at the headboard in front of you, trying to angle your hips for him. Begging for him to move more, faster, into or against, anything and everything, all at once.
But he won’t even let you taste your climax. Everytime your voice swells to the heights of the room he slows, growling, intent on dragging this out longer and longer. He basks in your cries, waiting for you to claw frantically, twist unceremoniously, shake in abandon, then stops again. His words return to you. You’ll come when he damn well pleases. And he’s fucking you absolutely raw until then.
It doesn’t make sense, with so much of your blood in his system and the ambrosian scent fogging the room from you, he shouldn’t have the power, the control, to play with you like this. To decide to slow. To choose your pleasure over his own. Somehow, some way, he is. It only proves to you again what you already knew. His strength, his vigor... he’s always looked past himself for you. Showed you time and time again how important you are to him. How he cherishes you, even in the midst of a lust-drenched heat.
You’re sobbing for him, overstimulated and lamenting his name.
"P-please, please, I’m-"
broken. Almost there. Gorged
More, please. More!
The pressure builds, fire building in a tornado, a vacuum about to split itself in half with oxygen. He bottoms out in you over and over again. The growing resistance of your tight pussy is causing sweet moans and sharp breaths from him. He throbs inside of you, and you keen with him. He grips the base of your tail and pulls, harsh and unforgiving. A sob chokes out of you, pleasured and verging on your own insanity. Your hand flies back to his thigh, your nails dig into soft flesh. It’s enough to force him to release you.
He hisses and smacks your ass again, harsh and wonderful. He captures your wrist, using it as leverage to fuck into you harder. Swollen and slumped, your body gives out. Astarion doesn’t let you fall, and his hands run along your hips, sinking into you with the last of his strength, moaning your name. Your body wracks and twists, and the only thing keeping you against Astarion is his tight hold on your wrist and hip. Pleasurable wails recede into the bedding as your teeth tear into the pillow. Your body jerks, strained and happy as Astarion rides you through your orgasm.
He stills after another few spasms, and you feel the heat burst in you, spilling out just barely past his throbbing member, running down your thighs and stomach. His hips thrust forward again and his body bends to cover you, gripping harder. He has more to give. He pushes again and again, clutching your shoulder and digging his nails into you. Curses tumble from his lips, cascading over your defeated body, mixing with a blissful calling of your name. You grip at the mattress as he barely has time to push his hips back before thrusting in once more, still coming inside you.
Finally, in a mix of heat and limbs you collapse into each other, his body resting on your back as you gasp for air. Your pussy throbs and shudders in response to leftover twitches and jerks, which helplessly bob and pulse in response to your clenching and trembling. You moan in delicious agony. Astarion tempts fate herself by trying to move again, seeing if he can go back to fucking you so soon after.
"Not so quickly! No, baby!"
Your shout seems to bring him back to his senses. He stills for just a moment, pulls out slowly, his cock popping out in a dam of your fluids. You have to stop yourself from groaning into the mattress again, feeling the heat wash over you. He helps you roll over to your back to connect eyes with you again. The hot breath between your bodies swirling your heat in a feedback loop of scent and need and want. Pure fucking desperation filling the sweat dripping down your legs and down his back...
You press your hands to either side of his face.
"Are you okay? I’m sorry it can be-"
He stops you, instantly, "No." His gaze flits between yours. "Don’t apologize, love. It was amazing, more than amazing. Wonderful, astounding, ethereal." His hands take yours and bring them to his lips. "I knew what I was signing up for. Even if I... got a little carried away."
You try a chuckle, but it comes out strangled.
"Thank you... Thank you."
He kisses you, sweetly. Blood mixes on his lips, and you gorge on him. Breathe him in as he murmurs a small apology. After a minute you sigh, relaxing back onto him. He devilishly smiles and leans up every now and then to lick at your neck, your collarbone, your face. One lick at your cheek has you both giggling, and, satisfied that you’re relaxed enough again, he grips his thighs roughly around your middle to flip you both on your sides.
You laugh out loud, letting him roll the two of you as a unit. He cleans you properly, dragging long strokes of his tongue over supple, injured skin. He doesn’t like seeing dried, cracked blood on you, always says it’s a waste. His lapping sends shivers down your spine. 
"So marvelous for me, my love. You did so well. I’m so proud of you."
The praise roils in your soul, affirming you. Confirming your claim over him and his on you. Your sanity falls back as grains of sands in the hourglass of time and space. A macrocosmic shift of reality as the muddled, layered blankets lift from your mind.
In the last flitting droplets of your heat’s haze, you scent Astarion as best you can. Licking his neck and rubbing your face and wrists against his body. Bridging the very air to mix your souls, screaming to the world that the two of you are one. It makes you feel safe; reassures you that he is
. You practically bathe in your fusion. When you’re finally satisfied you relax in his arms, sighing long and soft.
Your fingers drag gently along his. Tips sensually tracing invisible tattoos of hearts and butterflies and arrows stabbing abominations. Tenderly, you pad over his little calluses; swipe down the little hairs on his wrist. His fingers crochet into yours, interlocking with a small squeeze. Finally you swing your drunk eyes to meet his red amber glow.
His somber tone washes over you, "Want to go do more Three-Dragon Ante? Take them for all they’re worth?"
You grin, hungry, exhausted, and so incredibly satisfied.
"Bath first. Then,
"Mm," he thinks to himself, "maybe clean the bed too... or just steal Gale’s he’s not using it..."