#♡Ascended Astarion | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inquisitornocturn · 7 months ago

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⊱─ 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕦𝕤 ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Ascended Astarion/f!reader the vampire bride/tiefling

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - e, smut, predator/prey, vampiric shapeshifting, chasing, fear play, non-consensual blood brinking, compulsion, light bondage, dubcon, knifeplay, praise kink, asphyxiation, mild degradation, begging, object insertion, cunnilingus, anal fingering, anal sex, vaginal fingering, forced orgasms, multiple orgasms, grinding, overstimulation, PiV, face-fucking, cum swallowing, blood drinking, plot what plot

➺ 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: it was supposed to be just a little game: you run, he chases. fun, innocent, maybe a little childish. but as you rush through the forest, doubt starts nagging at you and fear begins to grip you. what if this not a game anymore, not to Astarion anyway? unsure of what happens when he finally catches up with you, you run - you run as if your life depends on it.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 8,096

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: a gift fic written as reward for winning the raffle that i ran on this blog to celebrate the follower count! hope the wait was worth it and thank you for supporting my work ♡~ and as always - please enjoy♡

for @eldritch-rat ♡ congratulations on winning!

The night is cold but you barely feel it as you rush among the trees. From time to time you stop, craning your neck to look behind you, your eyes scanning the darkness for any signs of him. You agreed to play this little game and you had your fun so far, rushing through the forest, not knowing when he might catch you. It started as innocent fun. Catch me if you can, you told him before your feet quickly took you through the brush, weaving the flora of the forest you two settled nearby couple days ago.

You wanted to travel, so you travel, with Astarion by your side making sure that you experience the very best your new lives have in stock for you. Days and nights alike are filled with all the flavors and joys Faerûn has to offer even while you’re on the road, but nothing brings you greater joy than knowing you belong to your lover.

Still, you begin to wonder if you ran too fast or too far for him to catch up, but surely for a Vampire Ascendant it is not troublesome to find his ‘lost’ consort? You stop by a tree, placing your hand on a rough texture of it and turn to look over your shoulder, seeing just tree trunks and faint wisps of fog. Your eyes sweep over the area in a different direction but still nothing. Nothing at all stands out and you frown, pressing your lips into a thin line, wondering where Astarion could be. Why you don’t hear any footsteps, why you don’t hear him calling for you? It was supposed to be fun, he was supposed to catch you quickly, so why he’s nowhere to be seen?

You exhale slowly, listening best to your ability but you can’t hear even a single dry branch break, the forest is silent as a grave and a nagging thought gets into your head – what if he just let you run without actually following? You flush at the idea of embarrassing yourself like this but you’re determined to keep going, because you are sure Astarion wouldn’t do that to you. And least of all he wouldn’t let you wander too far from him, not when you’re still so new as a vampire. Neither of you have figured out your full abilities yet and Astarion is adamant on keeping you close as much as possible. No, he wouldn’t let you just run off into strange woods without making sure that you won’t end up in trouble.

With renewed determination you turn your eyes in front of you and begin walking, slower this time instead of running, listening for any sound that could reach your ears while your tail remains just as tense as the rest of your body. Your eyes keep looking, searching the darkness but you only can see this far without any additional aid of torch or a lantern.

It takes you a while to notice that the fog is getting thicker, heavier and you begin to wonder if you should head back. How long this has been going on for? Half an hour? An hour? With no Astarion in sight you’re feeling bored and slightly annoyed. He’s probably enjoying himself watching you wander aimlessly and try to avoid him when you’re not even sure he’s here.

Wait, what is this fog? You realize it feels strange. Yes, it’s obscuring your view but why you don’t feel any humidity on your skin from it. You stop again, moving your hand through the thin slivers in front of you as if that could help you determine the nature of it.

And then you hear something – a flutter of wings. Your head snaps in a perceived direction of the sound but you’re not sure if it’s the correct one. Still, your body tenses even more, your tail stiffens and your spine bends forwards just enough to make sure you can sprint if you need to. Again, the sound of wings, another direction, as if an owl or a crow is flying from tree to tree, and you realize that in the stillness of the forest it can only be Astarion.

Can it be him? He can’t control his powers fully yet, some things he can do just as you can, climb the ceilings, call upon wolves, but changing shapes is something neither of you yet truly mastered. Still, somehow you know it can only be him so you let your feet take you. You rush forwards, your eyes focused on the dark so that you don’t trip, so that your clothes don’t get snagged on low branches or bramble.

You run.

And not only because it’s a game you started, but because you are not sure if it’s a game anymore. You doubt that Astarion would seriously hurt you, but you have seen his anger, his rages, when something upsets him and the glee in his face when he takes those who offend him down, slowly and carefully, to make sure that they feel every single thing done to them. You haven’t been on the receiving end of those moments of fury, but who’s to say if he’s not angry now? Who’s to say that you, possibly evading him for so long, didn’t frustrate him just enough for him to desire to teach you a lesson, and not a fun kind.

Your jaw clenches as you move among the trees, trying to be silent but every step sounds like a thunder strike in your ears. Sweat slowly begins to coat your forehead and you keep hearing the sound of wings behind you, closer and closer, all the while the fog is making it more difficult for you to be fast, slowing you down near to a strolling pace. You stop again, look back, but you can’t see much at all anymore, the mist is just too thick, too dense to peer through even with your vampiric vision. You wipe your sweaty palms on your pants and try to listen rather than see, but again you achieve nothing.

No, you have to keep going, because at this point you’re not sure what to expect if Astarion catches up with you. An unfamiliar fear grips at your chest, the unpleasant kind. You don’t want to be scared of your lover and your master, you never had a reason before tonight, and yet…

You turn and run again, this time not caring if your shirt gets caught on bushes, not caring that you nearly fall after you trip over a root. You run, your own head telling you to panic, to go faster, to go farther, your logic leaves you as you make your way unaware of even the direction you’re heading to. You swallow hard with every second step, as the sound of wings gets closer yet again. You stop for just a moment when you hear it right behind you, and when you turn back with your face upturned, you see a giant bat clinging to a tree trunk, wings splayed, eyes glowing red, sharp teeth baren. A snarl-like sound escapes the beast and you gasp, scared like never before. This is not a game anymore.

With a frightened yelp you turn and run off, your lips parted as you gasp for air, forgetting even such a simple fact as your nonexistent need to actually do so. Your mind slips back to your mortal days, when you were weaker and so much more vulnerable, and your panicked brain even recreates a quickly drumming heart in your ears even if your actual one remains still.

Somehow this chase makes you forget that you’re a vampire. Once again you’re a mortal tiefling girl scared for her life. Once again you’re powerless, before you turned away from gods and signed a pact that tied you to an entity which granted you tools to be a mistress of your own fate. No, you’re not the woman you were just couple hours ago, this chase stripped you of your present and reduced you to something barely above a chased animal. A prey to a predator of unimaginable powers.

Your own breathing is all you can hear and then you stop in your track, nearly slipping on the mossy ground when the giant bat lands right in front of you. It’s so huge it towers and you lift your face to look at the bloody muzzle of the beast, realizing he caught something else before he caught you.

Wisps of magic wrap around the massive body and the transformation is instantaneous. Astarion stands before you, a grin on his lips, blood painting his chin and he wipes it off with the back of his hand.

“Did you really think you could escape me?” his voice is low, resembling the growl you heard him emanate just earlier while he was turned into that monstrous creature. Your eyes are wide as you stare into his glowing crimson irises.

You watch Astarion lick at the blood on his hand, his eyes not leaving yours and fear like a collar snaps around your throat. Every muscle in your body tightens and you turn on your heel, darting off. Behind you hear a laugh, mist muffling the echo bounding off the trees.

“Darling, you’re just not fast enough!” he shouts after you but you barely listen as you run, arms pumping, knees rising and falling. A branch catches left side of your face but you don’t even feel the sharp sting of it slicing through your skin. All you hear is footsteps, chasing after you.

Darting among the trees you try to escape and your brain shrinks to pure instinct, pure terror. You feel fingertips graze the tip of your tail and you snatch it away immediately with a shriek. Astarion’s laughter again, so close behind you and then the back of your shirt gets caught. He yanks you backwards and two top buttons rip at the strength of the pull. You shout again and your arms flail, desperately seeking for purchase, for anything to grab onto.

Suddenly, you feel the icy pierce of his fangs right into your cowl muscle, making your whole arm go numb near instantly. You cry out, trying to pry yourself away from him, feeling the blood being drawn out of your veins and then it’s over. Not even a flick of a tongue over your wounds as Astarion pulls back just as quickly as he descended upon your flesh.

Your talons scrape the side of a tree leaving deep gashes but offering no help in your struggle when Astarion begins dragging you backwards, making you stumble and loudly pant as you try to escape.

“Let go! Please!” you cry out and Astarion laughs, not stopping. The fog seems as thick as ever and you know that no one will hear you scream in these woods tonight.

“Little love, I can’t believe you think me so merciful.” vampire chuckles and you whine in your hopelessness, then scream when with another powerful tug he sends you flying backwards onto the mossy ground.

The landing pushes air out of your lungs and once you open your eyes you see your lover, your Lord, your Master, standing above you, a smirk on his lips, a trickle of blood down his chin. Your blood. He sticks out the tip of his tongue and drags it over his upper lip, scarlet eyes taking in your splayed figure in front of him, your shirt barely clinging to you by a mere button or two. You don’t have anything underneath and your exposed nipples perk up at the chill of the night. That doesn’t go unnoticed by Astarion and yet the fear still grips you.

“It was a game, I swear!” you try to defend yourself and your earlier suggestion but Astarion just glances over at your face and steps closer, pushing your mind deeper into the panic.

You flip on your front and on all fours you begin crawling from him, choked gasps getting stuck in your throat as you try to scurry away but to no avail. Your shirt gets grabbed again and this time last buttons give up the fight. Astarion pulls at the fabric, making you rise from all fours to your knees as he pulls the shirt off you, your arms following direction of the clothing article that has lost its use. Your shoulders send a sharp jolt of pain to your brain and you squeak before you can stop yourself, then fall back down onto your palms once your arms leave the sleeves.

Without a glance back you try to crawl away once more.

“Stop right there and look at me.” a command. It nails itself within your brain with stickiness of a spiderweb. You stop immediately with your face frozen in fear, you can’t move, you’re not allowed to. You always knew that Astarion has power over you, because he was the one to turn you, to make you his consort, his precious vampiric bride, but he never used his powers to compel you. Until now.

Your body follows his instruction, ignoring your attempts to resist it, and you move your head just enough to look over your shoulder while your lips tremble. Now you see a blade in Astarion’s hand, the edge of it looking menacingly sharp even in the darkness. He smiles the type of smile that spells danger, malice and pain. Tears gather in your eyes as you watch him begin to cut your already tattered shirt into strips. Astarion doesn’t look at you as he works, but he does speak.

“You wanted to play a game, darling. I’m surprised to see you’re not enjoying it much.” he muses with a voice that’s calm, relaxed, happy even. “Too bad though, because I’m going to have most fun whether you want it or not.” Astarion’s fingers collect the strips of your shirt in his palm and you feel his sanguine magic release you.

With a heavy exhale you whine and attempt to crawl again, but this time you’re slower, losing your energy to fight him, and you feel Astarion grab your tail, keeping you in place as he steps closer, leaning over you, to your ear.

“Don’t make this more difficult for yourself.” he whispers and your chest heaves a ragged breath before you stop breathing altogether as you feel the edge of his dagger press against your cheek. “Stay still while I do this unless you want to get hurt.” your Lord mutters and gives your ear a gentle kiss before pulling back entirely. “On your knees, darling.”

You raise from your hands, shakily finding your balance as you kneel, not daring to look at him. The tears in your eyes are still present as you tremble slightly while your mind conjures the horrors he could perform upon you. How far would Astarion go? Would he truly hurt you? You’ll learn tonight, you understand this with a sobering realization.

Astarion’s warm fingers proceed to tie your wrists together in silence and when that’s done he pushes you forwards, making you fall into the moss with the side of your face. You let out a sound but say nothing while your lover undoes the buttons of your pants and peels them off you with relative ease, one leg after another the moment your boots get tossed somewhere into the nearest bush.

“So beautiful.” Astarion hums to himself and you bite your lower lip when you feel him tie your ankles together, making it difficult for you to keep kneeling with your hips in the air. You use your tail for balance and receive a smack on your rear followed by a chuckle. “Stay still I said unless you want me to tie your tail to your horns, love.”

When he’s done binding your limbs, the Vampire Lord grabs the back of your neck and brings you upwards to your knees once more. He leans to your ear, then notices dried blood on your cheek where a branch cut you earlier and you feel his warm tongue caressing your cold skin where the scrape is, making your eyelids heavy.

“Astarion, I didn’t think-“

“Shh shh. No talking.” he croons and his fingers grip the back of your neck tighter while he presses his dagger to your throat. “I don’t want to break my precious toy but I will if I have to.” the menacing whisper makes a shiver travel down your spine right to the tip of your tail and you press your lips together. The blade grazes the underside of your jaw and you close your eyes, a single tear slipping down your cheek and you feel Astarion wipe it off with his thumb. “No tears, darling, they are unbefitting someone like you.” you only manage a small nod in response and feel flat steel of the dagger tap against your cheek. “Good girl.”

You whimper ever so slightly in response and the edge slides down your face, down your cheek, lower and onto your neck, pauses at your right breast, dangerously flicking your hard nipple and nearly cutting it, then down again, to your stomach, caressing the skin there with a dragon-like threat, making you unsure if he will go as far as to actually cut you. Your body responds with another shiver and you can’t help it, despite your fear your find yourself growing aroused. It starts small but the longer Astarion teases the tip of the blade on your stomach, circling it around your navel and grazing it over your pubis, the more wetness pools between your legs, threatening to begin seeping past your folds.

With a loud swallow you gently tremble when the cool steel travels across your stomach again and lower, then lower some more and your right inner thigh is caressed with the razorblade sharpness. The sting is unexpected and you hiss at the feeling, squeezing your eyelids harder, knowing that Astarion can smell your body reacting positively to his game. Suddenly your eyes snap open the moment you feel cold steel pressing between your folds. You nearly panic at the danger of being cut until you quickly realize that he’s using spine of the dagger. You whimper and bite down on your lip, trying not to make more sounds while Astarion slowly moves the blade between your folds, smearing shiny metal with your arousal. He does it so precisely that your swelling nub gets rubbed against the side of the blade and you have to fight yourself to remain silent.

“Such an easy whore you are.” Vampire Lord chuckles against your ear, his grip on your neck not relenting, but now slipping from the back of it to your throat, squeezing tighter and tighter with every slip of his blade against your sopping cunt. “Wet already, even if it’s just a blade.” he taunts and gives your ear a lick, making you gasp. “You’ll scream wonderfully for me tonight, you slut.”

You want to answer but realize you can’t. Astarion is squeezing your throat hard enough to prevent you from using your vocal cords, so you just move your jaw in futile exercise of what little physical agency you have while you’re at his mercy.

“Down, you greedy fucktoy.” vampire snarls and his blade leaves you, his fingers release your throat and you’re pushed face first into the moss again.

You turn your head, trying to peer at your lover over your shoulder with your rear high in the air and Astarion caresses your skin, runs his fingers alongside the base of your tail making your body shudder in response. You feel your own wetness stain your thighs, making you forget that your wrists and ankles are beginning to feel sensitive from your restraints.

“Astarion, please…” you gasp rather than use your voice and he leans to the side just enough to see your face, his eyebrow lifted curiously at you.

“Yes, my dearest pet?” he smirks arrogantly as he speaks and you lick your lips.

“Please, I need you.” you beg, trying to make your voice louder and struggling to do so. Your desire is overwhelming. He was never like this with you before and it’s driving you crazy. The fear and danger he combines so seamlessly while utilizing your own lust for him, a perfect blend of things you dreamed about but didn’t dare ask.

“I’m sorry, I think I misheard you? Would you speak up louder? I like my toy audible.” Astarion’s grin becomes sharper and you notice him toying with the dagger in his fingers. The sight makes you pause but you look into his eyes again and swallow.

“Please, my love, I need you.” your voice is louder now, clearer, and Astarion nods ever so slightly, something mischievous in his expression making you doubt your situation for a split second.

Vampire moves away from your field of vision, right behind you, and you feel his warm fingers trace along the seam of your cunt, painting his skin with your arousal, then you hear him inhale sharply.

“How lucky I am to have such an eager slut as my personal plaything.” he says and pauses for a moment as he teases you, making your stomach clench with expectation. “And since you asked me so nicely...”

You immediately realize that what Astarion begins pushing into your core is not his cock. You loudly gasp and whimper when the object is pushed deeper, the ridges of it making your head swim for a moment. The dagger. He’s using the handle of the dagger.

“Astarion…” you moan, unsure about the danger if he continues this but he just chuckles and grabs your tail with one hand, keeping you still. After another inch you feel his fingers that are holding the knife tightly by the grip, right at the crossguard, and you relax, letting your cunt swallow the hilt as deeply as Astarion can push it in. You move your tail and wrap it around the arm that he uses to steady you.

“You want this, don’t you?” vampire asks and you nod. “I thought so.” he chuckles and begins moving the dagger, textures and grooves of it immediately making your legs tremble and you moan, letting your eyelids close.

Astarion expertly drives the hilt into you again and again, faster with each thrust and harder, just the way you like it. You moan with every such invasion, saliva leaking out of your parted lips and getting soaked into the moss. You’re coming to your orgasm fast because the slightly bulbous pommel is rubbing against your most pleasurable spot. You try to speak your lovers name but all that comes out are first syllables of it, making him chuckle with satisfaction of your undoing administered by him.

“Cum for me, you whore.” Astarion’s voice is almost a growl as he demands your subjugation and you can’t disobey.

The tone of his voice and the pumps of the dagger are exactly the kind of last push you need and you cum. Your orgasm hits you hard and rips through you, making you cry out from the top of your lungs and then stealing your breath away just a moment later. Astarion moves the dagger until your screams fall to whimpers, then he pulls it out, making your cunt emphasize the absence with a wet sound, your arousal now easily dripping down your thighs and coating your skin.

You lie with your face on the ground and pant, gasping for air, your head swims and you shake, trying to collect pieces of your shattered self. But there’s no time for rest, no time for blissful relief as Astarion flips the dagger in his fingers and stabs the ground with it. The sound makes your eyes snap open and you feel yourself being turned, flipped on your back, your body pressing heavily on top of your tied hands.

“Oh… Astarion…” you gasp for air, wanting to tell your lover how good it felt but his face is decorated with a satisfied grin. He knows exactly how he made you feel just now and he’s not done.

“Only your screams tonight, darling toy.” he scolds nearly gently and you stop trying to speak, just attempt to get your breathing under control, then watch how his eyes sweep over your naked form while he kneels over your tied ankles.

He raises an eyebrow when his gaze lingers on your drenched core and then uses his hands to part your knees, giving himself a better look.

“I can’t believe how easy you are.” he taunts, making you feel slightly embarrassed but you say nothing, he instructed you to keep your words to yourself after all. Vampire’s fingers grip your shins now, stopping there to caress your skin for a moment, then he lifts your legs and places your bound ankles around his neck.

Your eyes slightly widen while Astarion’s fingertips explore your inner thighs and as he bends down you inhale in anticipation, then moan slightly the moment you feel his tongue fondle the cut on your skin he left just earlier. You clench your jaw at the mix of pain and pleasure of his ministrations to your wound and your arch your neck, feeling a shiver wash over your body.

“You always taste so sweet.” Astarion whispers against the cut and you let out a strained exhale, letting your back relax while your tail now finds a new point of purchase – his shin, and wrap tightly around it.

He grabs your hips now and leans in, making your thighs squish his head but Astarion does not care. His silver curls tickle your sensitive skin as he leans closer and press his tongue flatly against your cunt, drawing a moan out of you once more. He moves his warm appendage over your folds as if trying to lap up every single drop of you and you encourage his effort with softer mewls escaping your throat. Your back arches and your tail squeezes his leg harder the moment Astarion’s lips wrap around your clit and the tip of tongue begins flicking over it, up and down, down and up, in circles, again and again, making your head swim. You don’t even hear your own voice anymore, you’re lost in your gratification that’s coming to overwhelm you once more just like earlier.

You moan his name then get reduced to just cries of pleasure when your lover begins sucking on your clit, making your hips buck against his face and your thighs squeeze his head so hard your muscles tremble. You feel his fingers drag your hind back onto the moss, pinning it there so that he can continue his succor upon your throbbing clit and you fall into your bliss without resistance. Your pleasure overtakes you, your body trembles and squeezes while Astarion sucks on your sensitive nub right until you reach the point of pain. He stops then, not wanting to take you there, not just yet, and your body relaxes the moment his tongue retreats back into his mouth.

With a satisfied but tired moan you collapse onto the forest floor and feel Astarion part your legs, allowing him to raise his head. When you manage to open your eyes and glance down at him you see a smile and a predatory glint in his eyes.

He’s still not done with you.

“Good girl. You cum so fast for me, I appreciate that.” Astarion coos as he glances down at your drenched folds but this time the wetness comes from his saliva, the night air cooling your skin where his scorching mouth was just moments ago. “I still have not had my fun with you, I hope you noticed that.”

Your lover caresses your thighs and then lifts them again, now placing your bound ankles on his left shoulder and lifting your hips off the moss until you’re supporting your weight with just shoulder-blades. While Astarion looks you straight in the eyes he wraps one arm around your thighs, keeping you in place and making sure that you don’t slip, don’t lower your rear unless he permits so. His other hand wanders below you, his hot palm strokes your rear, his fingertips find your entrance and dip inside just for a moment before he pulls them out and drags them lower, smearing your juices and his saliva over your hole. Only thing you can do is wrap your tail around his thigh and cling to it for dear unlife.

You watch Astarion’s satisfied grin widen as he dips two fingers into your ass, feeling the tightness of it and obviously being satisfied by it.

“You know, my darling, that’s what I truly love about having you as my precious fucktoy. A vampire doesn’t have to worry about same things mortals do. I can use you however I wish and not worry about anything at all. Mortals are simply disgusting.” he laughs and you whimper because his fingers still work within you, slowly pumping in and out, preparing you for what’s to come. “Well, I mean vampires like you, love, because there are no other vampires like me.” a fitting boast and you nod slightly in agreement to him, making him smile softly at you. “You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” you nod again and he pushes his two digits into you right to the knuckles. “You will take me entirely, won’t you?” another nod before he continues his teasing questioning. “You like it when I fill your holes, don’t you?” Astarion smirks and you nod, beginning to squirm now, wanting more even though your last orgasm was mere minutes ago. “Very good girl.”

You let out a soft mewl of happiness at his words and smile back, gasping only when he pulls his fingers out of you. With the same hand he works laces of his pants, his sanguine gaze locked on your face, because he desires to see every single expression you have to offer. When you feel his heated, velvety tip nudge at your hole you slowly exhale and bite the tip of your tongue, watching face his too, loving every declaration of lust that you can see, meant only for you.

“Take it all, darling.” Astarion smirks and bites his lower lip as he begins pushing into you, claiming your body in ways only he is allowed to. “Such a good girl, taking me so well.” he murmurs as his cock slides deeper and deeper, making you feel comfortably full and you gasp, releasing your tongue from your teeth. “Almost there, little love.” vampire coos in a soothing voice and when you moan louder he chuckles, right before you feel the warmth of his torso press against your rear and the back of your thighs. “So eager, I love that.”

He wraps his both arms around your legs now and begins moving. Slowly at first, letting you adjust to the sensation and depth of his cock buried deep in your ass, but you don’t need time, you already sigh blissfully at his every careful pump, making Astarion pick up his pace.

“What a beautiful sight you make, all just for me.” Astarion’s voice is a barely controlled snarl as he finally finds his own physical elation and he thrusts harder and harder, gripping your legs tighter, but only for a moment longer.

Soon one hand releases its grip, moving between your bodies, and fingers of it get shoved into your slick cunt. You gasp louder, looking at what he’s doing, unaware that you closed your eyes and enjoyed yourself just before he did this. You see a grin on Astarion’s face, his curls already sticking to his sweaty forehead and you notice near manic shine in his eyes as he pounds into you, harder and faster. His thumb finds your still very sensitive clit and begins to rub it, making you moan louder. Your fingers grasp at the moss, talons tearing at it as pain and pleasure clashes at your sensations.

“Astarion I don’t know-“

“I said no talking.” he quickly cuts you off and you bite your lip, silencing your words. “You will cum for me as many times as I tell you to.” a statement, not just wishful thinking, and you let your eyelids drop again as you relax, lean into the sensations as much as you can while your body reacts by tensing your muscles.

You whimper as your mind gets overwhelmed and you try to arch your back, but Astarion’s hand around your leg prevents you from moving, his cock plunges into your ass with reckless abandon, his fingers in your cunt curl and stroke and his thumb rubs your clit with feverish pace. Despite the painful sensation, your eruption nears again, you feel it spreading from between your legs and throughout your body, making you shake with the upcoming wave of mind-breaking climax. Astarion hears your fingers rip at the ground and he feels your ass clench his cock with such force he nearly cums early, but he holds you in place and with a low grunt accompanying every single one of his domineering slams against your body, he watches you writhe while you sink into the ocean of beatific crescendo.

All of your senses dull except for pleasure that coats your mind with fog not unlike the one surrounding you both. Your body arches and bends, your muscles tremble from tautness and you stiffen as your orgasm rips through you in wave after wave so hard that Astarion cannot thrust anymore. With his head thrown back and a cry of relief he cums too, unable to stop himself as his fingers dig into your flesh and hook into your cunt just to steady himself. You hear his moans, mixing with yours in the silence of the forest and in this moment - you exist just for him.

Eventually, after the aftershock of your rapture fades to near nothingness, your body relaxes at last and all at once, but Astarion’s grip on you is not enough to prevent your lower body slipping out of his hands and dropping onto the moss, making his fingers leave you and his cock pop out with a wet sound. He only manages to grasp onto your ankles so that at least your legs don’t slip off his shoulder and he lets out a breathy chuckle right as his eyes meet your dazed gaze.

“Darling.” is all Astarion manages to say and you offer him a weak, but satisfied smile while you both try to catch your breaths, try to calm down just a little before either of you can actually speak.

Unsurprisingly, your lover recovers faster. With his free hand he slides his palm over his sweaty curls, near slicking them back and he gently sets your feet on the ground as he eyes your exhausted form. You watch him grip the dagger and pull it out of the ground with one swift motion. You’re too dazed from your most recent orgasm that you don’t even have a chance to wonder what he’s going to do next. With one expert move your ankles become unbound and you exhale from relief because you didn’t realize how sore they were becoming, especially being propped up.

“That was incredible.” you speak with your voice coarse but Astarion gives you one glare and it makes you pause, while silencing you at the same time.

“We’re not done, my dearest pet, which means you don’t have permission to speak yet. Understood?” Astarion speaks while he parts your legs widely and you nod, now worrying about how long he still wants to keep going because you’re not sure if you can keep up. Everything about you feels sore already.

With a satisfied smirk your lover gets down to all fours and leans his head down, placing a kiss on your stomach, and another one just right above the first one. He makes his way up carefully, making sure that his lips leave a scorching trail across your skin as he stops by your breasts, giving one nipple a generous lap of his tongue, then the other one, and your body reacts, making fire in your abdomen begin to ignite hotter, like embers burning brighter at the gust of wind. You exhale with your lips parted as you watch Astarion’s kisses continue between your breasts, over your chest, across your neck and then he captures your face in a kiss so deep you mewl the moment his tongue pierces past your lips and teeth.

Astarion’s warm body descends slowly as you two kiss and it’s a sensation you never stopped loving. Once you were warm and he was cold, now this dynamic is reversed and both of you seem to be intoxicated by it, elevating your sensations to heights like never before. Still, when his cock begins slowly rubbing against your wet folds you flinch. It doesn’t go unnoticed and your lover pulls back from your lips, smirking at you as he lowers his upper body on his elbows, gently pressing his chest against yours.

“I know what you’re thinking, darling” Astarion whispers as his already hardening shaft keep teasingly rubbing against you, his hips moving in fluid motions. And then he maneuvers his cock in such a way that it presses firmly against your overstimulated clit, making you yelp and squirm at the painful sensation. “You’re thinking that you can’t take it anymore. So sore, so sensitive.” he taunts as he presses his dick harder against you, making you clench your teeth at how sweetly agonizing it feels. If he only gave you a minute or two to recover, if only he relented for a moment. “But don’t worry, my dearest pet, I know you can take it.” he pauses, enjoying your strained expression, your sweaty face, your clenched sharp teeth visible past your parted lips and he chuckles. “And if you can’t, you’ll learn to love it anyway.”

Astarion’s movements are slow, your arousal allows his cock to slide between your folds effortlessly, smoothly, and every single time he pushes his shaft upwards, his velvety tip nudges at your clit right before the rest of his length drags over it, prolonging the sensation. Your tail moves again and finds his ankle, wrapping tightly around it as you arch your spine underneath him.

Your eyes close as you try to bear with the pain, your legs trembling and squeezing his hips, trying to stop him to no avail. You hear yourself make strained sounds of discomfort and you arch your neck, beginning to shake with your whole body. It’s so much, too much, you’re about to scream but then Astarion’s lips press to your collarbone, trailing kisses on the underside of your jaw and your body begins to relax. Your tortured clit overcomes the aching stimuli and starts sending sensations of pleasure at last. You gasp, louder and louder as your lover’s cock keeps grinding against you, faster now.

“Come on, my pretty little slut, cum for me. I know you can.” Astarion purrs against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin and your fingers grip at the moss underneath you, your wrists now screaming from pain but you barely register that.

You moan and just as your body began to relax it starts tensing again, preparing for yet another orgasm. It’s pleasure but the pain is still present as your clit throbs against Astarion’s dick with delicious dedication to yield under his demands. You gasp for words, but he quickly moves his right hand and inserts two fingers into your open mouth.

“Not a word.” he reminds you as you climb your pleasure faster now. Your tongue moves around his fingers, tasting yourself from earlier and you give in, just like you always do.

You whine, it’s so much, almost too much, but you cannot stop the inevitable and you feel Astarion press his body against yours, making sure that you don’t move too much while he takes you closer and closer to your pinnacle. You’re almost there, so close that your mind begins to blur. And then it stops.

Gasping and trembling you open your eyes to look at Astarion and see his clouded from lust expression.

“Fuck.” he growls and a moment later you cry out when his cock plunge deep within you. You smile at that and bite your lip down the moment his fingers leave your mouth to find additional purchase on the ground near your shoulder. “You’re too sweet.” his eyes flick to you and you nod to him, making him grin. “Such a good pet.”

With that Astarion begins to thrust and you move your legs, locking your ankles on the small of his back right before he graces you with a wet, sloppy kiss. His moans sound delicious in your ears and you mewl too, feeling him thrust hard and fast as if his unlife depends on it. Soon the kiss breaks, he presses his sweaty forehead against your cheek while he grunts louder, his pelvis rubbing against your clit, bringing you once again to the edge of yet another climax.

“I can’t hold back-“ you choke out and before he can even respond you reach your limit, screaming for him once again, your body tensing and clenching around him, your cunt trying to milk him for all he’s worth, but Astarion just swears under his breath, pumping himself into you only for as long as it takes you to ride out your pleasure.

You collapse under him, gasping for air like never before and you can’t even open your eyes, barely comprehending what happened, barely grasping onto your sense of self, it threatens to leave you as your clit and cunt throb with pain and pleasure.

“You didn’t wait for my command, pet.” Astarion’s voice is a ragged whisper and you manage to open your eyes, seeing his grin but with an edge of danger. You disobeyed and he does not appreciate it, even if it was he who pushed you to such limit where you couldn’t help it anymore.

Without another word Vampire Lord pushes himself from you, pulling out of you and stopping for a moment to caress your swollen, sensitive folds, brushing his thumb against your clit and sending a painful jolt down your spine that you accompany with a painful cry.

“There, there. No more of that, you served your use well.” he pulls his hand away and moves your legs apart, releasing himself from your locked ankles.

Carefully he moves your tail away as well, then with one easy pull he hauls your body and flips you over. With a grip on your neck he pulls you upwards, making sure that you’re steadily kneeling before you watch him advance around you until he’s right in front of you, his still hard cock glistening from your arousal. You hungrily eye his glorious form and let your jaw become slack.

“Such a good girl, already know what to do.” Astarion comments with a satisfied smile on his face and while gripping the base of his cock, he guides it into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on him once again.

Your eyes meet his as he pushes his length deeper and deeper until you gag ever so slightly, then he stops, releasing it from his grip.

“There there, let’s not make you uncomfortable.” he croons and you smile ever so slightly even though he cannot see it with your lips wrapped around his cock.

You notice him lifting his hands and a moment later you feel Astarion gripping your horns, firmly holding your head in place. Then he shoves his cock deep into your mouth, making your eyes widen from shock and your throat spasms from sudden invasion.

“Come on now, you know how to take it.” Astarion hums arrogantly while he holds his cock in your throat, feeling it contract around the tip of him, and he sighs dreamily.

Your eyes water but you blink it away while your tongue moves around his shaft in vain attempt to alleviate your discomfort. Still, you do listen to him and you lift your gaze, relaxing your throat, stopping your breathing and waiting now as you let your tongue lie flat under his cock.

“There we go, you are such a darling.” Astarion praises and begins moving his hips against your face while still gripping your horns.

He fucks your mouth with increasing speed. He was already close before you came around his dick just earlier and now it’s his turn to get what’s owed to him. With a smirk he moves his hips faster, stronger, snapping them against your face with increasing fervor, the tip of his cock rubbing deep in the back of your throat. Your mouth salivates in response, pooling around your lower teeth and then spilling past your lips while you keep your tongue still and slightly propped, giving him even more pleasurable sensation.

“What a wonderful creature you are.” Astarion’s voice is breaking and it’s labored as he keeps satisfying himself with your mouth, his words strained when he speaks between his groans. “Filthy little whore and my precious regal consort in one. I am pleased.” he praises and you study his face, watch it becoming more and more colored in shades of lust and pride, mixed with his rapidly approaching orgasm. “You’re so good…”

This is the last thing Astarion manages to say before he moans and pulls your head by your horns, impaling your mouth over his cock as he climaxes, spilling his cum down your throat in twitching spurts while his loud moans fill your ears. You greedily swallow every last drop while he holds your face in place, pressed firmly against his skin and with a final spasm of his length, Astarion exhales with clear satisfaction.

Carefully he pulls your head away and you wrap your lips firmly around his shaft as it begins traveling backwards, being pulled out of your mouth. As the tip leaves your lips and you lick them, watching Astarion’s sweaty face and glazed-over eyes, you know you did well.

“Darling, you are magnificent.” he chuckles with happiness and lets go of your horns.

You notice his legs wavering as he walks from you, grabbing the dagger again and this time leaning in to cut the binds on your wrists. You immediately pull them to yourself and rub sore joints, but Astarion gently grips your jaw and turns your face upwards so that he can press his lips against yours. He pushes his tongue into your mouth and you mewl ever so slightly before he pulls back with a grin.

“Nothing tastes better than tasting myself on your lips.” he chuckles and you smile. Your body is exhausted, sore and you sit on the moss, finally noticing that the fog is gone.

“Was it your doing?” you ask as you raise your eyes to Astarion and he approaches, sitting on the ground as well with his back against a tree, then he pulls you into his lap. Your tail moves with joy and you know he sees it, yet you have nothing to hide.

“Yes.” he says proudly and you press your naked chest against him, gripping his shoulders while you grin and begin kissing his neck slowly, your tail finding his leg once again and affectionately wrapping around it.

“You hid it. Just like the bat form.” you say between kisses and Astarion puts his arms around you, letting you taste his sweaty skin with your tongue. He even leans his head back with a sigh of delight.

“I like to surprise you whenever I can.” he strokes your back in lazy movements. “You did well tonight, my love. You’re such a good girl for me, I think you deserve a reward.” you pause at his words and turn your face so that you can look at the left side of his own, one crimson eye meets your gaze. “Go ahead, darling, you deserved it.” he smiles and you smile back, then put your face to his neck once more, but instead of offering kisses, this time you part your jaw and sink your fangs into his flesh, eliciting a moan out of his throat once more.

“Such a good girl…” Astarion sighs, sounding absolutely content. You happily squeeze his leg with your tail in return, because you will never get tired of hearing that.

Ever.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #lord astarion #astarion x reader #ascended astarion #reader insert #x reader #female reader #astarion x female reader #astarion fic #my fics

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dragon-kazansky · 1 year ago

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Midnight meeting

Astarion x Reader/Tav (GN)

Spoilers for the end of the game

It's done. The tadpoles are gone and all that's left is the future waiting for you to start a new chapter of your life. There's one person you're not going to leave behind, however.

Warnings: None really. Fluff. Astarion being Astarion. Not ascended. My game glitches at the end and I couldn't see the scene with Astarion, just Gale and Shadowheart T-posing while the dialogue popped up. So I wrote this.

♡♡♡

The sun had set on, what you could only describe as, a terribly busy day. The fate of everyone and everything relied on you and your friends taking down an Elderbrain.

If someone had told you a few years prior this is what your life would become, you wouldn't have believed them. Yet, you wouldn't change a single thing about it. Any of it.

There have been good times and bad times. It had been a struggle. There were nights where you lay there wondering if that night would be your last. There was also Astarion.

Your darling Astarion.

When the time came for him to make a difficult decision, you had been there to help make the choice. You had grown so close to the vampire, he opened his heart to you. A relationship blossomed unexpectedly. At first you were his entertainment, his guarantee of safety. Then he fell for you for real and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

One night he made up his mind. He liked you. A lot. You were sticking by his side through everything and he wanted more of that. You were so patient. So understanding. So kind. He didn't think he deserved any of it, but he was certainly glad to recieve it all.

You had become his person.

However, now that everything is right in the world again, the tadpole gone and people can go back to living their lives, Astarion can't help feeling guilty.

You had talked him down from ascension, which he was glad for, but also sad about because he could.no longer walk in the sun. He missed the days of waking up and seeing the sun shining on your beautiful face. He missed how it's warmth felt on his skin. He missed how happy you looked during the day.

Here you were, just past midnight, sitting by a fire keeping him company. He is watching you quietly. The glow of the moon filters in from a window. You look beautiful. Yet, his heart his heavy. He feels guilty.

You can feel his eyes on you. You lift your gaze. Those stunning red eyes are gazing at you, but you can tell he is lost in thought. You frown softly.

"Astarion?"

He doesn't move. Whatever is on his mind has really taking him away. Slowly, you reach out. Your hand finds his and your fingers curl around his pale skin. A slight jolt rocks through his body and he blinks. His gaze is on you and he is seeing you again.

"Apologies." His voice is soft. Distant.

"Are you alright?" You ask softly.

"Fine." Astarion turns his head back to the fire, but you can see the way he sulks. You move closer to him, shuffling into his side. Your arms wrap around him in a gentle embrace. You feel the way he craves your touch.

"Talk to me, Astarion. What's on your mind?"

He is silent for a few moments, but when he speaks his voice is soft and sad. "Are you happy?"

You look at him in disbelief. "Is that a real question?"

He nods.

You can't believe he ever felt the need to ask something life that. You lift a hand to his cheek and caress his cold skin. "I'm happier than I have ever been."

"What I mean is... are you happy with me? Staying with me is... is to be stuck in the shadows with me. You have no reason to deprive yourself of the joys of life to stay by my side. I... won't ask that of you."

"Astarion, you're not depriving me of anything. I love you. I will stand by your side because that's what I want. I won't ever leave you by yourself in the shadows."

Astarion's eyes glisten. He looks like he wants to cry. You stroke his cheek with your thumb softly.

"Do you hear me?" You ask softly. "I'm her because I want to be here. I love you more than anything. I am not about to abandon you after everything."

Astarion can't help himself. His arms wrap around you and he pulls you into his chest. He holds you tight and buries his face into your shoulder.

"Gods, I don't deserve you."

You smile.

"I'm exactly what you deserve."

The two of you sit like that for a while. Astarion has never been more grateful for anything. Meeting you, letting you talk him down from ultimate power, and for you chasing him into the shadows when it was all over.

You're his most precious gift, and he will never forget that.

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3

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faerievampling · 8 months ago

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awesome! thanks for the request info~

you talked a little about Astarion decorating you with jewels in a modern au (can't find the post now :(

do you think he's active in socials? does he post you frequently? paint his nails w you? does he expect something ornate or flashy for valentine's?

I'm so curious to know what you make of him in any modern context really (*^‿^*)

I love modern astarion <3 everything here is based on our sweet spawn btw (but I do have some of Hcs about a take on the ascendant in a modern au…) this is 18+ and female reader in mind

here’s the ask I think you’re talking about if curious buttt…i went crazy here anon. i hope you enjoy ♡

I think Astarion would def be the type to post a lot about his girlfriend. Tons of pictures of the two of you, never unflattering though. Like let’s be honest, that vampire would be extremely photogenic if only that king had a reflection lol so in modern AU, oh man. Imagine the most flawless selfies ever: imagine the naughty pics he would send you.

Astarion knows how to use the camera on his phone. So throughout the day, he’s just gonna be sending you naughty messages and pics because that’s just how he is. Astarion is a tease, and you absolutely love this about him.

Astarion will be cringe and send you shirtless mirror selfies. Like a dad. Or a frat boy. And he will look good doing it. It will always be a joke when he does, but you’ll be blushing nonetheless.

You and Astarion def have a streak on snapchat. it’s like, ridiculously long. it doesn’t even matter if you’re 18 or 35, Astarion insists that you maintain this. It’s more important to him than he would care to admit lol

um okay but Astarion who knows how to fix cars. Mechanic Astarion! I’m kidding he would hate the mess 😂 but i love the idea of him being really good at using his hands, and I think Astarion has a vast knowledge of totally random things that will shock you when you first start dating him. I don’t think modern Astarion is beneath fixing Tav’s car or checking her oil (he might even pump your gas for you if you’re nice enough) but he will complain. Probably a lot.

Astarion hates the state fair(I’m an American from the South). I’ll say no more.

I might have said this in the other ask but i do think Astarion loves holidays, especially Christmas: he just loves getting presents (and buying you presents, but he hates buying them for anyone else). Omg You doing elf on the shelf for Astarion. Every day, you move that damn elf, probably putting the poor thing in inappropriate positions, and Astarion makes it his mission to find it. He’s so annoyed by it lol but he loves it and you always do your best to make him laugh. And it works, because ultimately he just thinks you’re so fucking adorable.

Easter – yeah Astarion doesn’t care for religion, so you will be his god on Easter Sunday <3 🥠=*your luck will be high this day. Expect worship and pleasure*

Valentine’s day – I think Astarion will def take this opportunity to do something intimate and meaningful with you, but I think the more effort you put in, the better, because Astarion will appreciate it. He probably doesn’t want anything too gaudy or over the top, (it has to be tasteful)

Um Astarion is def into the high tech sex toys. He literally loves playing with you, especially if the toy connects to his phone, so he can control you from across the house. He will beg you to wear your lovense in public (that’s up to you if you want that ;) just so he can watch you squirm. i’m a believer that he loves using his tongue and then his cock (in this order of top favorite things Astarion loves doing to your desperate body) on you, but when he starts to discover all these new toys…he’s so game.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #modern au astarion #modern au #astarion #astarion x female reader #faerievampling asks answered

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v3nomly · 1 year ago

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hiii saw your post abt modern au astarion and how you have requests open🤭 first of all i'm begging you please give us every single astarion thought you have........ kinda obsessed with modern au astarion🤭 could you please give us something about that where astarion still works in the justice system?? i'll never understand why people say he would have a different job, boy is literally born to be a lawyer/judge!! also have a lovely day😽😽😽 if you plan on keeping tabs on your anons may i be a 🍓 anon teehee

Ooo, I love the idea of modern lawyer Astarion. Instantly my brain went feral and threw my mind into the hyperbolic gutter. NSFW additions and a surprise appearance from ascended-adjacent Astarion under the cut. As always let me know if you want me to continue! Either as more thirsty ramble of an actual fic! Also I created a tag for you 🍓 anon! ♡

Astarion is just so charming and beguiling. He has everyone wrapped around his finger in that courtroom. Hanging off every saccharine word he says.

God, he’s just about lying through his teeth, but no one seems to care. He's spinning a careful web of truths and mistruths so intricate and show-stopping that he knows he has the jury right where he wants them.

You’re a bottom-of-the-food chain lawyer. New enough to the scene that you get stuck with all the shitty cases like this one. But veteran enough in the art of assholes to know the type of man Astarion is the moment you see him. The worst type of lawyer, one more befitting the name of a conman. Happy to line his pockets with the misfortune of others.

You couldn’t lie he was captivating. Every utterance of a word was a performance. Every gesture was a dance, and he played the part so well. It is what he does best.

It is when you utter one simple word that he finds his show comes to a halt.

“Objection,” you state voice almost meek, all eyes turn to you, and suddenly the spotlight has shifted.

Of course, the judge dismissed your claims, but it was enough to throw Astarion off his game. Sure, this wasn’t the first time someone had called 'objection', nor would it be the last. Yet, even with your voice as meek as it was your eyes held something he hadn’t witnessed in years. Clarity.

You saw through him, and the revelation almost made him want to laugh. You were refreshing, like an ice-filled cup of water on a sweltering summer day. For the rest of the trial, he gave you a chance to match his dance and god where you beautiful.

Maybe you stumbled or stepped on his toes, but you were merely unpracticed and the thought of you honed, your skills sharpened like a knife, brought a fiery excitement he hadn’t realized he was missing.

I could see him being subtly flirty every moment you were alone during the trail. Something that flustered the hell out of you, but you never let it affect your performance, which only furthered his interest.

When all is said and over, with the defense winning, a very proud and victorious Astarion comes over to shake your hand. Taking the opportunity to pull you just a step closer and invite you for drinks.

You knew better. Certainly knew that a guy like him was trouble, but you didn’t say no. While you wouldn’t admit it, you were somewhat eager to see what else Astarion was capable of. So much so that you had practically brought up the idea of him fucking you in the alley.

Your hands braced you against the wall, allowing you enough resistance to push back into each thrust, allowing Astarion to hit you deeper. His hands held firmly onto your hips, no doubt leaving the imprints of his long fingers on your skin.

"Fuck," you utter your legs wobbling, slowly turning to putty as he brings you closer to the edge. Astarion pauses his hold shifting to better support you. You hear him pant behind you, and you can only assume he's trying desperately to catch his breath. Just as caught up in the steamy exchange as you were. Before he steps back, allows his cock to slip free.

"Turn around, wanna see you, beautiful," the pet name speeds up your already racing heart. They were nothing new, something you had grown used to when his flirtatious remarks had started up, but the cadence of his voice felt more real, intimate.

Turning was a blessing and a curse, and both for the same reason. Astarion was handsome, there was no denying that. An air of royalty surrounded him, so perfectly pristine with so little effort. Now replaced with something just as gorgeous. White curls lay jostled, a few strands stuck to his forehead, pupils blow wide with lust, and lips swollen and bruised with the faintest strain of your lipgloss.

It isn't until he had you in his arms, a leg thrown over each one that you realize how strong he is. In the dim alley, you had only been able to make out the makings of what you assumed were abs, and while you had run your hands along his chest plenty during your initial makeout session you hadn't pegged him to be this fit. Nor did you realize how much you liked being picked up as if you were nothing but a small toy.

Astarion simply asks if you are ready, only waiting for your nod before he's once again buried deep inside you.

He kissed you sloppily, swallowing every breathy moan you let escape your pretty little mouth. Only pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

There was little regret to be had when you let your gaze linger on him. Even as someone walks past the alleys threatening to expose your rendezvous. You think that you wouldn’t mind having him fuck you senseless again.

Dark Astarion

Imagine being his little Legal Secretary who deals with all his boring administrative issues.

Late office hours where he has his hand fisted in your hair, pulling tight, as guides you to choke on his cock. The deep laugh that would rumble through his chest right before he begins to mock you. Astarion would start off sweet with a little tease about how cute you are. Before his mouth would twist into the cocky smirk he wore so often. He’d make you look at him, mouth still placed around his aching length. You meet his eyes and moan around him. In the light, they almost appear red, like a predator ready to devour its prey. A sly fox and his dumb little rabbit.

You think for a second he’s going to praise you. Tell you how good you make him feel, so you look up at him eagerly with big doe eyes. Ready for whatever compliment would slip from his perfect lips.

“You're my personal little pet. Aren’t you darling? Only good for serving me,” he says, with little room for argument. Demeaning and possessive and the best compliment he could ever bestow upon you.

His smirk grows as he observes you squeeze your thighs together, cock growing impossibly harder when he thinks about how wet you’ll be when he has you bouncing on it later.

#astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x you #astarion fanfic #reader insert #x reader #astarion #˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ 🍓 anon #˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ ven writes

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thranduel · 1 year ago

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"he is half of my soul, as the poets say." ♡

i headcanon that this happens after they defeat the elder brain and talk about finding a cure for astarion :') astarion gets pretty down about it again and kaelin comforts him and constantly reassures him that it'll be okay and that he's not a burden and he will always stay by his side. physical touch is their love language and way of comforting/calming each other down so they just hold each other for a while and then eventually it leads to these screenshots but they just smooch n cuddle and hold each other in this specific headcanon; it doesn't lead to sex because that's not always necessary for them every single time they are intimate. obviously they do enjoy it but they enjoy physical touch and intimacy in many different ways and i think that's important to talk about too <3 obviously in the actual scene where i took the screenshots, this is when you ascend astarion, but that is NOT canon in my playthrough. i just wanted to take some more sweet and intimate screenshots and i think these turned out really beautiful :) also couldn't resist the song of achilles quote hehe

#MY BEAUTIFUL BOYS :') I'M GONNA CRY I LOVE THEM SO MUCH #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3edit #astarion x tav #astarion romance #tav #oc #original character #oc: kaelin #otp: you're not alone in this #bg3 screenshots #my screenshots #my edits #headcanons #my headcanons

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astarionancuninslittlelove · 10 months ago

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avatar by mordeawearybone & header by summerwarlock!

=͟͟͞⚝ Stories 1-10 are a continuation of my series Indomitable featuring my OC (!F) Tav, Elowyn. Find her story here.

=͟͟͞⚝ The links will take you to the stories on AO3.

⊹ ♡ 1. Eyes On Me:

Astarion asks Tav to spend a rather intimate night with him in the Underdark. Tav tries to play hard to get, but gives in to Astarion’s silver tongue…in more ways than one.

⊹ ♡ 2. Delight at Last Light Inn

Astarion comes to terms with his feelings for Tav after seeing her get hurt defending the portal to the Shadowfell. He finds he is not as good at expressing his feelings with words as he is at expressing his feelings in other ways…

⊹ ♡ 3. House of Grief

Tav finds herself on a mission to the House of Grief. She is without Astarion for the first time on her journey thus far, and she is not adjusting well.

⊹ ♡ 4. Finally Free-The Pale Elf:

After defeating Cazador and convincing Astarion not to ascend, Tav and Astarion share an intimate and heated moment at camp.

⊹ ♡ 5. When Darkness Falls:

After the defeat of the Netherbrain, Astarion comes up with an idea to surprise Tav by putting a new spin on their first encounter.

⊹ ♡ 6. The Fissure of Tyche

After months of searching for cures to help Astarion walk in the sun again, Omeluum reaches out to Tav and Astarion with a promising lead involving the story of Tyche—original goddess of luck.

⊹ ♡ 7. Till Death Do Us Part (Well Sort Of)

Tav and Astarion celebrate tying the knot together surrounded by all of their friends. Their wedding night is surely one they will remember forever.

⊹ ♡ 8. Last Bite

After Tav & Astarion marry, Tav tries to come to grips with their own mortality and the uncertainty that comes with it.

⊹ ♡ 9. Interview with the Vampires

Tav and her companions have become celebrities in their city of Baldur's Gate overnight after they saved the city from imminent doom. Astarion, Tav, and their companions are summoned to Baldur's Mouth on the one year anniversary of the fall of the Netherbrain to be interviewed for the newspaper on what they have been doing since then. Astarion & Tav find a creative way to pass the time until it is their turn to be interviewed.

⊹ ♡ 10. The Ultimate Test

Astarion has a devilish idea that piques Tav’s interest.

⊹ ♡ 1. Perfect, Every Time

Features trans/nb Tav

⊹ ♡ 2. Tara’s Out of the Bag

Features F! Tav

⊹ ♡ 3. Good Girl

Features F! Tav

=͟͟͞⚝Stories 1 & 2 loosely go together. If you like the first one, you most likely will like the second!

⊹ ♡ 1. Sunday Morning Surprise

Gale wakes Tav up with a homecooked meal. He has a fantasy that he would like to get off his chest.

⊹ ♡ 2. Professor Dekarios' Fantasy

After becoming incredibly busy at his new job at Blackstaff Academy, Professor Gale Dekarios has a hard time juggling his job of teaching with his lustful breeding fantasy with his wife, Tav.

⊹ ♡ Backstory

⊹ ♡ Character Analysis

⊹ ♡ "Get to Know Your Character #2"

⊹ ♡ “My OC As”

⊹ ♡ Character Development Questions

⊹ ♡ Her tagged content

⊹ ♡ BG3 Companions as The Tortured Poets Department Songs

⊹ ♡ Astarion in Trance

⊹ ♡ BG3 Companions & Where I Would Take Them in the Modern World

this image ^^^ was made by summerwarlock! :-)

Sparkly divider and heart bullet points made by @anitalenia

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commander-rahrah · 7 months ago

Text

Talking to the Moon: Part VIII

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~5950 Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, mentions of trauma, abuse and possible death, some borrowed in game dialogue, suggestive, slight NSFW, canonical warnings apply!

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here part V: here part VI: here VII: here

Summary: Set in end stages of Act III. Astarion spends the day alone to gather his thoughts and prepare himself on how to make yet another confession - his love for you.

Notes:

Hi folks ♡ This is my take on non-ascended Astarion's romance scene in Act III, where I've continued to give him some more scenes between the Cazador fight and the romance scene -- because this poor vampire needs some time to decompress and breath and think! I daydreamed about a few of these scenes, and the dialogue was stuck in my brain and played on a loop until I finally got to write it down! I hope you enjoy the chapter and the culmination of all the little, patient moments between Astarion and GN!Reader/Tav that lead to this scene for them. I think there will probably only be a few more chapters for this series too! Crazy!!!

Thank you so much for reading! As always, kudos and comments are very very appreciated ♡♡♡

·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨

Astarion’s pale fingers were twitching against the inside of his palms as he studied the busy cobblestone street.

Pairs — that’s all he could see. The pair holding hands as they weaved through the crowd. A man gently tugging a woman to his side, out of the way of an incoming carriage, before tipping their heads back and laughing. Two men flashing each other nervous, flirty smiles as they picked out rings together. His eyes had been drawn to pairs for months now — ever since he’s realized he done the unthinkable and actually fallen for you. But usually they were pairs that he could only assume the stories of. Couples that were long gone, dead and forgotten about. Skeletons with intertwined fingers, or love letters from decades ago long lost to the Shadowlands. He hadn’t seen couples with futures — honest to god living, breathing, hopeful pairs. Whispering and sneaking glances and kisses. Gentle casual touches as they picked out fresh fruit and matching jewelry. People so full of hope and love. It made his half-dead heart ache for you. Wherever you were right now. He had remained behind today, not quite ready to face the world as the supposed “heroes” you all had become to the city. No, he wanted more time to figure out what all this meant for him. For you.

You had offered to stay with him after his morning feeding, your voice low and gentle as the others still slept. But he insisted you go — as much as that little voice in his head argued to not let you go. Someone had to be there to make sure nobody took advantage of your kind, selfless heart.

But if he had another moment with you he would probably blurt out some rambling, befuddled love confession. Which isn’t the way Astarion wanted to do things.

You both had done everything so backwards from the beginning. He wouldn’t mess this up too.

So, here he was — meandering through the busy market of Baldur’s Gate. Eyeing flowers and jewelry and goods as if they could adequately describe how he felt about you.

Roses and chocolates and dramatic passion in bed. That’s what he thought this was supposed to be. What he’d read it felt like, what he’d faked it to be.

But no.

You were sweet lilies and midnight orchids, honey and delicate pastries, the deep night sky and moonlight. You with your gentle, patient and maddening touches that turned everything he knew upside down.

Astarion never really got any of it — even with his broken concept of love. He didn’t understand the point of it.

Because it was never with you.

No, no flowers or chocolates or jewelry would really capture how he felt. None of it could dare come close to explaining the fluttering, buzzing, electric feeling that went through him at just the thought of you.

He wouldn’t rely on theatrics either — no perfectly placed blanket and bottle of wine in the middle of the woods. No practiced lines or trained movements that were practically a ritual at this point.

The vampire would speak from the heart. His cold, half-dead heart that was… well, feeling quite the opposite as of late.

Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, the vampire took the long way back to the Elf Song Tavern — relishing the feeling of the sun heating his white hair, freckling the back of his neck. Memorizing the sights in the daytime colours, the different sounds of the busy streets.

Who knew how much longer he’d be able to take them in. That was part of what he gave away.

Another thing to come to terms with.

At least he got to make the decision for himself this time. Unlike most of his life.

The worn wooden stairs of the tavern creaked underneath Astarion as he went up to the group’s room. He marched through the ornate double doors before any nervousness or doubting thoughts slipped in at the prospect of seeing you.

But the room was quiet — the only sound a small crackling fire that must have been freshly set by housekeeping. There was no usual bustle of the dozen of you all — everyone still out in the city, doing whatever quest or do-good-ing someone insisted on today.

His pointed ear quirked slightly at a sound, and he turned his head towards it. The balcony doors were wide open, the sound of something lightly thumping the glass pane of the doors reached his ears. But he couldn’t see anything from here.

Moving heel to toe carefully to not announce himself, Astarion craned to see who it was before letting out a small sigh of relief. It was Karlach — her red tail hitting the glass softly as it swished back and forth. The rest of her was leaned up against the railing, with something hanging out of her mouth.

He let out a fake cough to get her attention, and she craned her head over her muscular shoulder to look at him. Her clawed fingers pulled a cigar out from her mouth, her lips pulling into a grin. “Hiya Fangs.”

Ugh, cigars. Astarion loathed the disgusting things — they reeked. “Karlach,” He greeted with a nod, leaning against the frame of the balcony door away from the smoke. “Back already?”

“Ah, never left.” She admitted a little sheepishly. “Wasn’t quite ready to face the world just yet.”

Right, Gortash. Gods, he’d been so wrapped up in everything that had happened to him that he’d almost forgotten. She’d asked for time to decompress after all of that too. Not that he blamed her.

The barbarian had even pulled herself together for his benefit — she was one of the first to jump to his defense when he announced to the group it was time to face his old Master.

He wondered if she got as much catharsis from killing Gortash as he did from killing the ancient vampire.

Probably not. Even with the lord dead she would still die. Not like him.

No, he'd get to live with that, like this, forever.

Sometimes he couldn’t decide what was worse. Cursed to die after finally seeing the sun and trees and ocean again. Or cursed to live forever with only fading memories of those things after longing for them for two hundred years.

It was a difficult question to answer. And now even more impossible with the added variable of his love for you — his very mortal, very breakable lover.

Astarion realized he had been silent for way too long then socially acceptable and blinked his red eyes back to reality.

Karlach had put the cigar out now thankfully, tossing her black and red hair over her shoulder as she braced her elbows on the metal railing. The rogue stepped forward to join her, pushing his hip against the railing as he looked down to the streets he had just been walking.

“I’m proud of you fangs, I hope you know that."

He raised a white brow at her as she continued. "I know it wasn’t easy… turning down what you did. But gods, are we glad you did.”

The vampire took a steadying breath, “I know… Now I just have to live with it. I’m not sure what will happen now, or once the tadpoles are gone.” He admitted with a twinge of fear in his voice.

Her amber eyes betrayed her, flickering down before she forced a smile on her face. “Whatever happens, you won’t be alone.”

“For now. I’m sure everyone will be called off to their own business." He ignored the giant, waving red flag of her impending doom. "And besides, they’re bound to get sick of avoiding the sun just for me after sometime…”

“What, Giggles?" She scoffed, "You have to know they aren’t going anywhere by now, Fangs.”

His heart squeezed tightly, “How can you be so sure?”

“Astarion. They talk about you like you put the stars in the fuckin’ sky.”

He swallowed the lump crawling up his throat. Not only had he finally noticed you actually did love him, apparently he was one of the last ones to see it too.

Karlach said it with so much conviction, that even if he hadn’t come to the same conclusion last night… he certainly would have now.

“If you’ll have them, they’ll be there.” She smiled tenderly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling. She reached out her large red hand, squeezing his shoulder before she grimaced. “Oh fuck, sorry!” She wrenched her hand back, “Touching! I forgo—“

“It’s ok, I didn’t mind that.”

“Still, shoulda asked. Gods, I gotta get better at that. Just couldn’t do it for so long, heh—“

Astarion gave her a sad smile, nodding his head.

If he was honest he used to loathe Karlach. Not that she deserved it. But she was handed shit cards just like him, and she insisted on being so fucking bubbly and positive and optimistic. It drove him mental.

And the touching. Gods, the touching.

In the beginning how she moaned and mourned physical touch, all while Astarion felt like he was going to chip a molar if another person touched him again.

And then the pure elation on her face when she got her engine upgraded and could hug, kiss... grab people’s wrists and shoulders and fingers so casually. But Astarion’s face had to be a perfect, numb mask so he could hide the fact that bile was rising in his throat and his skin was on fire anytime someone grabbed him.

He hadn’t meant to hate her. And he knew he didn’t now. Actually, he felt like he was already mourning his friend a little bit. He would miss her.

“Thank you,” Astarion’s said softly.

Karlach’s eyebrows raised high on her forehead, a little stunned at the gratitude. “For what?”

“For being my friend. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“You deserved it, Fangs. The whole time.” Her voice was unusually soft and low, like a whisper. “Every good thing that’s happened to you — including them. And there’s more to come, I know it.”

The smiles they shared after was bittersweet.

Hope in times like these was a dangerous thing.

• • •

Your shoulders instantly relaxed as your eyes settled on Astarion’s form. He was lounging near the fire in your room at the tavern, a a book face down over his leg with his knee acting as a placeholder. His striking red eyes watched your every step as you swayed on tired feet over to him.

“Hello, sweetheart.” The vampire said softly, looking up at you from the settee.

“May I?”

His pale hand tapped the spot next to him. Your legs all but gave out as you sat down on the soft cushions, your muscles finally finding some relief after your long day. Before you could you even think to ask him, Astarion was wrapping his arm around your side – pushing you into him.

You relished in the feeling, losing yourself in his scent and the feel of the pads of his fingers on your soft waist. Then his strong nose was pressed into your neck, pressing the smallest of kisses to the sensitive skin that caused a wave of emotions to crash through you all at once. “You’re alright?” He asked quietly in your ear, before pulling away to look you over.

“Alright. Tired, glad to be back.” You gave him a meek smile, “And you, love?” You couldn’t help but study him, your eyes falling to his other hand that was not holding you – playing with the stitches on the sides of his pants. The anxious habit had made him go through a couple pairs of pants by now.

“Yes. No. Hmm… It’s hard to verbalize.” He finally admitted.

Your eyes locked and a silent conversation transpired in those seconds. His blinks and flash of his red eyes was confirmation enough. “I understand.”

He licked his pink lips as he slid his hand from around you, his fingertips dragging across the small of your back as he instead laced his pale fingers in yours. “I do feel guilty that I ended up lounging around here in the sun while the rest of you were out being heroes…” Then he swallowed, staring out to the windows just beginning to turn golden pink with the slowly setting sun. “I guess I should probably start getting used to the shadows again. Who knows how long I have left in the sun?”

You gave him a sad smile, feeling your chest tighten at the look on his face. “I think you did the right thing. Stopping it. Stopping him.”

Never again would you say that name. Never again would you give the bastard vampire master an ounce of power, even in death.

“I know. So do I. Though that doesn't mean it stings any less.” You felt your eyes burn as his voice broke slightly, getting thick with emotion. “Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands on your lap, “I'll be with you either way. I hope you know that.”

“I think I do,” Astarion said, his eyes turning soft and round as he looked over at you. Then he rolled his neck with attitude, a smirk spreading across his lips. “Assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.”

You thought about your adventures today with your companions and couldn’t help but agree. “We do love to find trouble, don’t we?”

A small chuckle escaped him, shaking you both slightly on the settee. Then he took a steadying breath, his fingers tightening their hold on yours for a moment. “There's something I'd like to show you, if that's alright. Something out in the city.”

Your brows met in the middle, “What is it?”

“Something I haven't shown anyone else,” He admitted with an odd look on his face. “Tonight?”

“Tonight,” You agreed, squeezing his cold hand back gently.

• • •

“This way, it's not far.” Astarion said softly, his hand stretched back as he led you forward.

It took all of his willpower to stop his other hand from trembling as you both walked through the graveyard. The over-grown grass and long forgotten tombs were bathed in the moonlight from above, casting shadows across the space.

He risked a glance behind him to look at you, but you were as quiet and composed as ever as you took in the sights around you. The vampire had never seen you be so quiet as you had been in the last few days – he knew it was for his benefit. Usually his lovely moon was as sharp-tongued as he was, as eloquent and flowery as Wyll or Gale. But no, these past few days you had been listening and watching so patiently. You’d given him both comfort and space in a way he’d never thought possible.

He would have to add that to the never ending list of why he loved you.

His half-dead heart crawled up his throat as he approached the familiar sight of his own tombstone. It seemed so simple just sitting here in the overgrown grass – clearly untouched all these centuries later. It had held so much power over him for so long — this haunted place that was marked as the beginning of this existence.

This hole in the ground. This slab of stone.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt.” He croaked, his fingers slipping from yours to form fists beside him. “Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting.”

His master’s name made his mouth feel wrong, his tongue heavy and swollen.

“From that day on I was his. Until yesterday.”

“You were never his.” You said quietly, “Whatever he had, he took by force.”

“Maybe, but he did take it. There's almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock.” His bottom lip trembled, before he steadied himself. Turning to the side, he moved his gaze from the tombstone to you. “For nearly two centuries I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was, lay here dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

You took a deep breath, looking at him with your eyes wide, “And what do you want?”

Astarion’s heart stuttered, he was doing this. That’s what the whole point of all of this was, wasn’t it? Why he had that nervous fluttering in his stomach all day. “You... I want you. You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared. You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do!” His throat worked soundlessly, before he spoken again. “I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don't want to lose that.”

“You won't. Whatever comes next, I've got you.” You said it so softly, but with so much conviction he couldn’t help but believe you.

Then your mouth spread into a radiant smile that he couldn’t help but match. “Thank you.”

It took all of him to tear his eyes away from you. “Well... I should probably fix this.” Kneeling down, he pulled a sheathed dagger from his boot. He took the tip of it, pushing it into the weathered stone as he added the current year. The year he woke up from the evil nightmare that was his life. The year he met you.

Sheathing the dagger, he fell back onto his heels and he admired his work. You dropped down beside him, close enough he could feel your warmth radiating around you. And you were so quiet again, giving him time to process.

“I've been dead in the ground for long enough, it's time to try living again. With everything that life has to offer.” Taking a deep breath, he swiveled on his knees until his was face to face with you. The moon was backlit behind your head, illuminating your silver hair with an ethereal halo. His fingertips couldn’t resist reaching out and tracing the soft line of your cheek.

Taking a steadying breath, he let his hand fall back onto his lap. His lashes casting a shadow down his face as he looked down for a moment before he spoke again. “Months ago, on that bed in the last light inn... you asked me how I saw you.”

You nodded as you remembered, “You told me you needed time.”

“Ask me again.”

You licked your lips, “How do you see me?”

“I look at you, and I see everything. The moon and stars. The world. A future.” His pale fingers reached out for yours, intertwining them carefully. “I was petrified when you asked me before… because I knew, even back then. But I’m not afraid anymore.

Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance. I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” Astarion confessed before his other hand pale grabbed the side of your face, holding you steady as he pressed his lips to yours gently — to give you time to pull away.

The vampire didn’t have to wait very long for you to kiss him back. Your lips meeting his almost instantly, your hands pressing tenderly into the lapels of his jacket to hold you steady as you both balanced on your knees. Your soft lips, your scent, the feeling of your fingers bunched on his clothes — you were the most intoxicating thing he’d ever had.

You pulled away just long enough to whisper back in a husky voice, “I love you Astarion, irrevocably so.”

A feeling gripped his heart so tightly, spread through every pore and crevice of his half-dead body that he felt it bring him back to life. Astarion had been manipulated, coerced, abused and forced into acquiescence for over two hundred years. He had felt the physical control that his Master had over his body and soul. But this — you, you possessed him another way he had never felt. He could barely process it, let alone articulate the way you were making him feel right now. He opened and closed his mouth several times as he tried to get the words out.

Instead silver lined the bottoms of his eyes and his bottom lip trembled, “What ever could I have done to deserve such a beautiful creature as you, my heart.”

But you shook your head, your silver hair bouncing with the movement, “I have never once questioned my love for you. You… you’ve never made me feel like I’m too loud, too much. You made me feel easy to love — and you did make me feel loved, long before you ever said the words. You make me feel like my blessing is something to be grateful for… not a thorn in your side. That I’m not a burden.”

“A burden? Never!” Anger flared through him at the people who made you feel this way. “A burden is something forced upon, against your will. I know that feeling. But you – you aren’t a burden. I choose you. Do not dilute yourself, or hide yourself away. Not from me.”

It was your turn to have happy tears fill your eyes now, your freckled nose crinkling as you smiled wide, “I love you.”

“Say it again.” He breathed, pressing his forehead to yours. His red eyes flickered down so he could watch your lips move and form around the words.

“I love you.”

A broken noise escaped from Astarion’s throat as he grabbed onto you. Euphoria and arousal and light flooded through him like never before. “Hells, the things you do to me. Just those words alone.” He hissed as his hand slid down the back of your neck, pulling you into him so he could kiss you more deeply then ever before.

Gods, did he want you. He wanted to taste every inch of you, re-discover your entire body. He wanted you breathy and panting as he swirled you with his mouth. He wanted his name on your lips and your hands on his body. He’d waited for this, waited for you for centuries.

Astarion gently pushed you into the long, soft grass and your eyes widened slightly with surprise. He lowered himself carefully on top of you, his hands bracketing either side of your head before asking in a whisper, “Is this okay?”

You nodded with a swallow, before opening your mouth. “Yes. And for you?”

“Gods, yes.” He purred into your ear before pressing his body flush to yours and capturing your lips again. Almost instantly one of your hands was at the nape of his neck, swirling his curls and massaging his scalp to the rhythm of your kisses.

The vampire slid his knee between your legs, stretching them apart so he could settle in between them deliciously — a hand moving underneath your shoulder to support you as you stretched your neck up to keep up with your kisses. He felt himself harden in his leather pants, rutting in the soft muscle of your thigh to get any kind of friction. Then his other pale hand slipped between the two of you and cupped between your own legs, feeling your arousal through the thin fabric of your trousers.

“Astarion,” You hummed in approval, bucking into his hand that sparked the fire in his belly to heat even more. He buried his face into your neck, nipping and sucking the delicate skin before pressing his tongue and lips to it in a soothing touch. If he didn’t stop here, he wasn’t sure if he could. The whole point of this was to do things the right way...

As if the cosmos heard his thoughts, the sounds of crunching steps nearby caused both of you to pull away in a flurry. You were both breathless, your chests heaving and skin flushed from your touch. Then quiet chuckles escaped you, shaking your bodies as your foreheads touched.

“Do you see what you do to me?” Astarion whispered, before detangling himself from you. You brushed each other off, before standing up and moving into the shadow of a nearby tree as incoming torch lights suddenly appeared.

“Hello?” A gruff voice called out, the clink of chained armor ringing as they walked closer to where you two were just laying.

“It was probably a ghost, Ryder.” Another voice teased from behind.

City guards. Well, that could have been awkward.

“OooOOOooo,” They mocked again.

“Eh! Stop it, you know this place gives me the creeps.” The first voiced huffed, before turning on their heel. “You owe me a pint for that.”

Astarion waited until their voices and footsteps faded away before peering around the large tree trunk. Another laugh escaped him, “What was it that I was just saying about you and trouble?”

You shook your head but joined his laughter, “That one is all your fault, you instigator.”

“Pardon me for finding you absolutely irresistible.” He licked his lips as he stared at yours, before blinking his red eyes back to reality. “Now what, my love?”

“Perhaps, now I can show you something I’ve never shown anyone else?”

He quirked a white eyebrow before letting a smirk spread, “Lead the way.”

Leaving the graveyard behind, you walked with your fingers intertwined and stepped in time with each other as you wandered down the cobblestones streets of Baldur’s Gate. You led the way confidently, a soft smile on your face as you snuck glances over to him. It made his heart thrum and stomach twist.

As you turned the corner onto a residential street, Astarion’s steps slowed. He looked around, blinking as he realized, “I know this street.”

You cocked your head as you kept walking, pulling him along with you, “Do you?”

“Quite well. I would use it to get to the little tavern nearby as a bit of a shortcut. But there’s this lovely little townhouse, tiny. It’s lavender with—”

“Flower boxes?” You finished for him.

“Yes, lilies.” Astarion walked forward before stopping in front of the townhouse. The narrow house was sandwiched between two others, painted a pastel lavender that shined brilliantly in the moonlight compared to the darker colours around it. “This one,” He pointed a long, pale finger at it.

You frowned slightly as you looked at the planter boxes, “The poor flowers.”

He followed your gaze, “They will bloom again, I’m sure of it.” Stepping closer to the little townhouse, he pointed up to the second floor window. “You know, there’s a piano in there.”

You perked up at that, your eyes darting from him to the window at back, “How do you know that?”

“I would hear it sometimes, faintly. Soft little melodies.”

“Really?”

A small smile spread across Astarion’s lips as he remembered the tunes — how sometimes he would stop underneath the window just out of sight in the dim light of the evening and listen. The harsh tug of his master’s orders would usually snap at him for the delay, but it was worth it to hear the joyful sounds.

“Every so often they would sing too. Such a lovely voice. I actually… l used to come this way when I was in the area — hoping I would hear them.” He admitted, wringing his hands together in front of him. “And I would try so hard to commit it to memory, so I could remember it when... Well, you know when.”

You looked over to him with the softest line between your brows. “Astarion, when was this?”

“Oh, time is so hard for me.” He tapped his chin as he thought, “Recently though— the last year or so I’d say.“

You worked your throat silently before pulling out a silver key out of your pocket, holding it out in front you. “When I realized I was going to stay in Baldur’s Gate, I started looking for a more permanent place to stay instead of the inns.”

You turned on your heel, and began to climb the narrow stairs on the side of the townhouse, “I saw an ad in the paper about a tiny room available at a discounted rate...” You slid the silver key into the painted wooden door that matched the rest of the house, and pushed it open. “Because the previous tenant had passed away and left behind a piano that was would cost them too much to move.”

Astarion followed you in wordlessly, his mouth falling open as you continued speaking. Until both of you stood inside the tiny lavender townhouse. It wasn’t very lavish — it was actually quite quaint, a little outdated. Some of the furniture looked well-loved and worn — a double bed pushed in the corner underneath the window to make space for the large upright piano taking up the majority of the room.

“I thought the piano was a selling feature, I loved it… I would play almost every night.” You said breathlessly, spinning around to face the vampire again.

His red eyes stayed on you, his voice thick with emotion. “It was you?”

“One year I’ve rented this room.” You admitted.

“It was you.” He breathed, crossing to you in a few steps and grabbing onto your fingers gently. The soft fingers that could play the piano so beautifully. “Play— play for me?” He asked, gesturing over to the dusty piano.

Your lips curled up as you nodded, pulling out the cracked leather piano bench and sitting before it. You stretched your fingers over the ivory keys, the dim light from the windows catching on the rings adorning them. Astarion could tell you must have taken lessons, your posture almost perfect as you straightened your back at the edge of your seat. He felt a tugging in the back of his mind of someone trying to teach him the same once, hundreds of years ago as a child.

But then your fingers pressed into the keys, and the emotion that crossed your face could not have been taught. You closed your eyes as you struck the first few chords, not needing to look as your hands glided between positions.

He was transfixed watching you, listening to you. Somehow you picked the tune that he remembered most clearly — the one that would slip into his mind the most when he was desperately looking for any kind of reprieve. It was more beautiful then he remembered, his memory of it was really a disservice to how exquisite it truly was.

Your posture laxed slightly as you began to hum, harmonizing with the melody you played on the piano and your voice drew Astarion in. He stood behind you, his fingers trailing the ends of your silver hair as he listened, brushing down the nape of your neck before squeezing it tenderly as you played the last note.

“I can’t believe it was you, this whole time. Your tunes, your voice kept me from madness some nights. Staring up at the moon, and you—” His voice broke, as tears broke free so instead he bent over to place a kiss on the crown of your head.

You turned to face him, standing up to reach his height. You gave him a sad smile, before asking, “May I?” He nodded with eyes closed, unsure of what he was even agreeing to. But then he felt the pads of your fingertips wipe his tears away, as gracefully and practiced as you had just touched the piano keys.

Astarion opened his eyes and grabbed your hand before you could pull it away. He held onto it before kissing your fingertips closely, tasting his own salty tears. “Just when I thought there was no possibility of loving you more.”

You mewed at the statement, the most beautiful smile he had ever seen spreading across your lips. “Do you believe me now?”

“About what?” He whispered.

“Fate.”

A breathy laugh escaped him as his heart lurched forward like it would thump right out of his chest, “Yes, my moon. I think I do.”

Leaning his face down, Astarion kissed you softly as he moved his arms to wrap around you. You matched his movements, circling your arms around his waist as your fingers grabbed onto the fabric of his jacket. Even with the long, drawn-out kisses, without requiring air like a mortal did, Astarion felt like he could finally breathe – fully and deeply for the first time in centuries. The darkness of his eternal immortal suffering suspending for a moment as his heart thundered alongside yours.

His lips became fervent on yours, kissing you harder and deeper than ever before. Your fingers moved to the front of shirt, knotting in fists as you pulled him into you. He groaned at the sensation of your chest pushed into his.

The vampire was sure he had never wanted anything so bad in his life — no other person, or blood, or freedom. Everything about this, about you, was making his mind swirl and heart pound like he had never experienced. Your scent — the sweet aroma of your bouquet, and the soap from last night. Your taste, like the richest wine and sweet honey pastries. The dichotomy of your gentle, tender kisses and the powerful, all-consuming ones you bestowed to him now. The little lavender house with the soft melodies and songs that had quite literally saved him for the past year, belonging to you.

“Starry,” You moaned out breathlessly as he trailed his kisses down your chest and throat, collarbones and sternum.

“Mmm, I can’t decide.” He purred into your skin, keeping up his touches with his lips and hands between his words.

“Decide what?” You panted slightly above him.

“Where I want you. The bed. This piano. Right here on the floor.”

You pulled away, your eyebrows furrowing softly, “Astarion, we don’t have to do anything you don’t—”

But he grabbed your chin with his thumb, catching your bottom lip slightly, as he made you look at him. “Are you going to make me beg?”

“What?”

“I want you — desperately. I ache for you, darling. And you are so sweet and considerate and have been so, so very patient. But I will beg if you want me to. Will that get the point across?” He sank to his knees in front of you, kneeling on the worn wooden floorboards of your rented townhouse. The tips of his fingers trailed down the back of your thighs delicately as he steadied himself for balance. “I love you. I need you. Please—”

You stopped his rambling as you bent over to kiss him, cutting off his words before pulling him off of the floor. “You don’t beg or kneel anymore, not to anyone and especially not to me.” You held either side of his face, staring intensely at him. “Do you truly want this?”

“Yes,” He said simply, his red eyes round and soft. Putting his hand on the outside of yours, stilling holding his cheek. His voice dropped an octave, barely more than a whisper as the building sensation of arousal and bliss started to form all over again. “Yes, my moon.”

Your lashes fluttered as you looked down to his lips and back up to his eyes. He knew they were a mirror to his own, shining with deep, true emotion. “Anything for you, my love. I am yours.”

The sound that escaped him was cut off as you pushed your lips back onto his.

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astarionmademewriteit · 11 months ago

Text

The Lovers

Spawn!Astarion x Durge f!Tav x Halsin (Minor role)

Cycles between Astarion and Tav POV

Rating: Mature themes (No smut)

Wordcount: 9.4k (Long one-shot)

Tags: Many many Act 3 spoilers, violent images, torture, self-loathing, depression, refusing to eat, eluding to SA, codependency, hurt/comfort, angst, blood drinking, injuries, brief mentions of sex (if you squint). If I missed a tag, let me know.

Summary: What started as a great day at the Circus of the Last Days ends with Astarion gaining insight from a fortune teller into his future as the ascendant vampire and Tav as Bhaal’s chosen. Astarion decides to face Cazador alone and keeps it a secret from Tav–slipping into the night and leaving only a small note. Halsin is there, promising to watch over Tav. However, Tav suffers in his absence (sometimes lashing out at Halsin), but Astarion knows it is better than the alternative–their collective demise and the loss of love.

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✧*̥˚ Astarion POV *̥˚✧

The Circus of the Last Days was teeming with excitement and laughter, children with face paint ran rampant through the grounds, weaving through the stalls where merchants yelled at passersby looking to make a pretty copper. Other stalls tried to sell the promise of financial abundance with the spin of a wheel, but it was all too easy for me to see they were rigged to steal money from the pockets of the idiotic. Their tactful manipulation is reminiscent of the days I spent as Cazador’s puppet, luring people in with the luxury of pleasure beyond their wildest imaginations.

It was not a bad business strategy, to be sure. But stealing straight from the pockets of the unaware was a quicker solution to our financial needs. I look towards Tav, watching the way her eyes scanned the crowd with quiet excitement. A smile plays on my lips. After all the danger we have faced, the chaotic nature of our adventures has not dimmed the light in her eyes–the happiness that paints her aura in such beautiful vibrant colors.

I wish the same could be said for myself. I can practically feel the looming shadow of the Szarr palace on the horizon, its threatening presence taunting me at every turn–reminding me of the centuries of pain, torment, and abuse Cazador subjected me to. My fists tighten, and I try to steady my breathing lest I spiral into a dark and violent rage–revenge feeding the anger that once laid dormant in the pit of my stomach. I can almost feel the sting of his blade carving his infernal contract into my back, blood slipping from my back in blooming rivulets where steel meets flesh. I grind my teeth at the memory.

“Astarion, look!” Tav squeals with childish glee snapping me out of my tortured reverie. Murderous as she was, her innocent nature overrode her violent tendencies in this moment. Her bloodlust replaced by the overwhelming need to momentarily forget our places in the world–the parts we were meant to play. I follow her gaze and spot a fortune teller’s tent nestled between two stalls selling enchanted jewelry and exotic furs, their claims of authenticity are laughable. To the untrained eye, one would easily fall for such fraudulent claims, but I knew better. Honestly, how this group would survive without my expertise was beyond me.

Tav closes the distance between us and looks up at me with rounded eyes and a pouty lip, “We should try it!” My mouth twitches, threatening to split my face in two.

“Darling,” I warn playfully, “Need I remind you that half these booths are wasteful ventures that we should avoid? We might as well throw our money in the garbage. Besides,” I drag a knuckle down her jawline to the base of her throat, “I’m the only one who should be draining you dry.” My words have their desired effect, her skin flushing–the smell of her blood carried on the warm breeze wafts to my nostrils. The elation I feel from her scent alone makes my mouth water.

A sharp raspy voice cuts through our moment, “You. Vampire.” I snap my head towards the fortune teller’s tent, a wrinkled decrepit woman leers at me with glassy eyes. Her long robes draped to the ground and her back is hunched painfully behind her, diminishing her height by at least a foot.

“In the flesh,” I bow sarcastically in her direction. Uncertainty washes through my entire body and I feel Tav stiffen at my side.

“We have much to discuss regarding your future,” She murmurs, her voice grates my ears in the most unpleasant ways.

I sneer, “I doubt you have anything worthwhile to spew, hag,” I growl coldly. I wasn’t about to fall for her thieving tricks. Our gold would be better spent elsewhere.

She wheezes out a laugh, “You will pay a heftier price without my help.” It’s as if she has read my mind. Probably just another party trick meant to lure people into spending money they do not have. However, something tugs at the back of my mind–warning me that she is true to her word.

Halsin moves to my side and places a burly hand on my shoulder, the weight only adding to my own doubts, “Hear the woman out, my heart,” he whispers, “I sense no deception from her.” Tav is nodding her head in agreement, her eyes wide with apprehension and anxiety, and I groan at their collective consensus. It was almost annoying having two people intent on drowning me with their unconditional care. Almost.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, I finally give in, “Fine, my dears,” I huff unenthusiastically, “But I expect to be showered in apologies when I come back empty-handed,” I roll my eyes.

Halsin chuckles behind me, “Don't worry, my Star. Everything will be alright.”

“We'll be here, waiting for you,” Tav says on my other side, giving me a reassuring squeeze on the arm and a light kiss on the cheek.

I gulp and swallow my pride before entering the witch's tent. Incense wafts through the air, sending tendrils of smoke curling to the sky. Various charms hang from the walls and the shelves are littered with trinkets, tomes, and dead creatures in jars of liquid. It is all very pedestrian.

“Spawn,” the hag’s grotesque voice rings through the air snapping me out of my reverie, “Save your judgements for the future,” she gestures at an empty chair across from her, divided by a small table with a crystal ball centered in the middle. Her consistent peek into my thoughts was unnerving but not unexplainable considering the wall of potions seated behind her against the back of the tent. She most likely used a mind-reading potion. It felt more invasive than a stake in the ribs, to be fair.

I cautiously take a seat across from the hag, impatience brimming on my tongue, “Let’s just get this little performance over with.” I roll my eyes and take a relaxed pose, watching the hag expectantly.

“I can assure you, dear Astarion, that this is no performance,” she pins me down with her glassy stare, “Devils whisper in my ear, speaking of your demise. I rather think you should hear me out.”

Her words sway me slightly, the promise of a devil should not be heeded lightly, nor the promise of one’s demise. I huff exasperatingly, “Fine, spin me your tale of the future.”

She smiles lightly before fishing in the pockets of her robe, pulling out an ambiguous vial of clear liquid and reaching across the table, offering the strange elixir with an open palm, “Drink and we may begin.”

I eye the vial cautiously, a putrid smell wafts through the air, promising bitterness on the tongue. I snatch the vial from her hand and drink before I can change my mind. I am doing this for Tav and Halsin if nothing else. The bitter liquid slides down my throat with ease, souring my stomach immediately. Warmth immediately washes over me, rivaling the warmth I feel when drinking from the necks of my partners.

My head begins to swim as magic rolls through my body in thick undulating waves, threatening to pull me under. I steady myself, gripping the side of the table in front of me for support as I ride out the arcane sensation.

“Peer into the crystal ball, Astarion,” the witch commands, “I have much to reveal.”

I focus my eyes on the object in front of me, the crystal ball that was once clear suddenly swims with visions too quick for me to latch on to. The dizzying effects of the elixir begin to subside ever so slightly, and the images in the crystal ball begin to slow, flashing images of Cazador carving scars into my back with agonizing precision. I wince at the memories, feeling the sharp pain of torture carving into my back.

“Your former master, Cazador, has made an infernal pact with a devil it seems,” the hag rasps pragmatically.

“Yes, yes,” I huff through gritted teeth, ignoring the searing pain of my scars, “I already know he plans to complete the Rite of Profane Ascension. Tell me something I don’t know.” I ball my hands into fists, wishing to forget the torture Cazador put me through that night and willing away other, darker thoughts of being sequestered in a tomb–a year of darkness and pathetic attempts of escape.

The image of my scars reflected in the crystal ball dissipate and are replaced by images of my former targets–people I willingly lured to Cazador in the hopes that he would not punish me again, but instead finding new forms of punishment through using my body in ways that I would never have consented to if I hadn’t been chained to his power. Something is different about the victims that stare at me through the curved glass, their eyes are blood-red now, familiar scars mark their bodies, and they suffer behind gilded bars under the Szarr palace.

“Your targets still breathe, newly changed, serving as a blood sacrifice. Seven thousand souls writhe beneath the floors, facing their inevitable death.”

“T-they’re alive? But–how?” I manage to sputter, utterly bewildered by the information and the painful reality that has just been set before me. They have suffered decades–no, centuries–beneath the palace. I thought they were dead. They should be dead. But–why? Then the truth hits me like a ton of bricks. Their souls will be exchanged for his ascension. Not just seven spawn, but seven thousand souls. It takes all my strength to keep from collapsing onto the floor in anguish. This cannot be happening. Cazador has played me for such a fool. Anger wells in my chest and I have to restrain myself from throwing the crystal ball across the room.

“Control yourself, spawn” the hag eyes me cautiously, “the truth of your future has yet to be revealed.”

I suddenly feel as if I want to empty all the contents of my stomach onto the floor as the bitter taste of the elixir dances across my tongue. What more could there possibly be? Was I even prepared to face it?

Before I have time to decide, the images shift yet again. A vague shape takes form, and the person in the crystal ball stares back at me with a familiar gaze. It takes me a moment to realize that I am looking at myself, but it only feels like a stranger staring back at me. Tav enters the frame and stands next to me, a worried expression painted across her features. My eyes look crazed and hungry for something more. I look at the hag for clarity, but she urges me to keep watching.

The images shift again, and I am standing over Cazador’s bruised body. He cowers below me as I grip a dagger in my hand. Suddenly, I am barking orders directed at Tav, pleading with her to connect our tadpoles so that I can copy the scars from my back into Cazador’s flesh.

Relief washes over me as I realize that everything I have been fighting for would be worth it if my future promised my own ascension in my former master’s place. His body, the bodies of my brothers and sisters, and the targets I lured to the palace disintegrate into ashy piles as power flows through my body, centered in the middle of the bloody Black Mass. Revenge never looked so sweet.

“Do not forget yourself, Astarion,” the hag breaks me from my concentrated stare, “You will lose your soul too.”

I take a moment before answering, “That is not an unreasonable transaction, especially if it means I become powerful enough to protect myself and the ones I care about. Nobody would harm me ever again,” I lean back and cross my arms over my chest, the tension from earlier melting away as I sit with this new reality.

The witch eyes me wearily before continuing, “You seem so concerned with protecting Tav from danger, but who will protect her from you?” She waves her hand over the crystal ball, willing the previous images of the ritual away and replacing them with images of Tav. Her vermillion eyes are illuminated, watching me with practiced reverence. Puncture wounds scar her neck, and her movements are sharper and more precise. So, she would allow me to turn her if it meant spending eternity with me. A small smirk plays on my lips.

“I hardly see how her becoming a vampire is any consolation,” I bark with renewed arrogance.

“Not a vampire,” the hag replies sharply, “a spawn. Forever a slave–bending to your will.”

I brush off her remark, “I would never treat her as Cazador treated me. Do not act like you know the first thing about me.”

An amused grin pulls at the corners of her crusted lips, “Your soul says that now, but do not forget that you sacrifice that and so much more by choosing this path.”

I roll my eyes and focus on the crystal ball once again. Reflecting back at me are the same eyes I’ve come to adore, but now they look pained and resentful as they stare back at me. I falter momentarily, and if my heart were still alive, it would die all over again.

“W-well,” I stammer, back-pedaling slightly, “I’m sure the power dynamic would be…unsavory. But I’m confident Tav would still find it in her heart to love me,” I whisper, trying to convince myself rather than the hag. I continue to watch as darkness shrouds the eyes of my beloved and I begin to feel less sure of myself with every passing second.

“A vampire’s greatest threat is another vampire,” the hag recites, mirroring the words I uttered not long ago, “The love you have cultivated will be nothing more than ash in your mouth,” she warns.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat but remain silent. “You will set Tav down a dark path of her own should you choose to ascend,” her words do not falter at this admission, and I know she speaks the truth.

As if to solidify her words, the images shift yet again. Now Tav stands before the bloodied walls of Bhaal’s underground temple, Orin dead at her feet. She is faced with an avatar of her father, and she kneels before him accepting her fate as his chosen. The promise of carnage and violence flits through her eyes as she transforms into a grotesque slayer, her features warped by the bloodied maw of the beast, all emotion siphoned from her eyes as murderous intent envelopes her completely.

All words on my tongue fall away as I stare at all she has become–everything she has valiantly resisted now a distant memory…an empty promise that echoes of slaughter. “She..” I choke out the words, “She accepts her fate as Bhaal’s chosen if I ascend?” I peered up at the hag, wishing I could wipe the smugness from her wrinkled face.

“Truly a terrifying couple,” she rasps, “reviled by all… and resented by one another.”

I look down in shock as the images twist grotesquely into a new picture. My powers wash through Tav’s body, forcing her to act against her will. I force myself to watch, even though I wish very badly to tear my eyes from the horrible images. Tav grips a dagger, hanging still in the air as if frozen in time, inches away from piercing my heart... So, I will drive her to murderous rage, so much so that she would willingly kill me. The love that once hung between us is now non-existent as hate fills her eyes.

So, this is what's to come… Unimaginable power at the expense of my soul… Tav’s soul… and the budding love that lies between us. The promise of death and murder the last thread tying us together.

I stare dumbfounded as the new revelation washes over me, more powerful than Cazador’s power imbuing me with his will.

“This cannot be…” I whisper, my hands trembling at my sides. My body racks with pain as I continue to watch. The bloody future unfolds before me as our bodies lay lifeless beside one another. Our inevitable demise ends at the hands of one another, effectively destroying the trust and mutual care we have built together… between each other. The images fade to black, leaving a deep-seated wound in my heart.

“This,” the hag gestures towards the now empty crystal ball, “is to be your fate, if you so choose.”

I sit frozen, too stunned to speak. Tears threaten to flood my eyes and anger washes through my body with agonizing intensity. “Why,” I ask through gritted teeth, “Why show me all this?” My words now sting with acid, “Why, help me?” I stand suddenly, knocking the table off kilter.

The hag grabs the crystal ball before it has a chance to shatter on the floor. A part of me wishes it had, as if that would undo the future it laid before me. She eyes me sternly before reaching into her robes once again and retrieving a card. She hands it to me, and I reach out and snatch it from her hands, letting anger control my limbs.

The card is decorated with a kaleidoscope of colors and gold foil, its design is ostentatious and obtrusive. I flip it over to find an image of two bodies romantically entwined and the phrase “The Lovers” embellished along the bottom. I look at the hag, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Because…” she says after a moment of contemplation, “I wish someone had extended the same courtesy to me when I was younger.”

I simply stared at her, half wondering what she had experienced to end up in a place like this. I lower the card on the table and turn to leave. I hover just before the exit and turn my head, “This… is a gift you know. I will never forget it.” I drop a satchel of gold on a nearby table before exiting the tent without another word, steeling myself to face Tav.

Should I tell her? I think it would be unwise, but guilt wracks my body as I see the look of pure love that adorns her face when she catches sight of me. Her features are now covered in face paint, and I cannot hide my own amusement. But it feels shallow, the weight of my future encumbers me and every step I take towards Tav…every second I look into her beautiful eyes is just another reminder of what she could become–of what I would enable.

I slip into my charming facade, choosing to hide the looming threat that hangs over my shoulders like a wraith clings to the shadows.

“Astarion!” Tav squeals excitedly, “What did she tell you?” Her body shivers with anticipation, and she hops enthusiastically on her heels as she waits patiently for my reply.

“Nothing of note, really,” I wave her off nonchalantly, “Just the usual propaganda a lonely wench spouts hoping to siphon money from her visitors.”

“Oh,” Tav looks down, disappointed, “Like what?”

“Finding love,” I say, lifting her chin with the tip of my finger. Her eyes find mine and light up at the prospect, “Accruing unimaginable wealth and happiness if I follow my dreams. That sort of thing,” the lie falls easily from my lips and I scold myself internally for resorting to shallow lies, especially where Tav is concerned. We have built a bond based on trust and consent. I have already tainted that bond by withholding the truth, depriving her of her right to know what the future holds.

I try to push down the guilt that rips through me, more painful than any injury I have sustained on our road to Baldur’s Gate thus far–and there were times I was close to death. But this pain is incomparable. Self-loathing starts to creep its way through my very bones, threatening to shatter my carefully rehearsed mask.

“Uh, darling” I say carefully, “I’m suddenly not feeling well. Perhaps we should head back to camp.”

Tav eyes me warily. I’m almost certain she knows that I am hiding something–her attunement to my many masks have sharpened over the months and I silently curse myself for being so predictable at this moment.

If she suspects anything, she makes no mention of it but agrees that we should head back to camp. Halsin promises to fashion some sort of tincture to soothe whatever ails me and I acquiesce, trying to widen the berth between me and their suspicion.

Back at camp I withdraw into my tent, pacing the small enclosure reminiscing on the words spoken by the witch. I was filled with dread and wracked with guilt. Tav's unconditional loyalty towards me would be nothing but a tool of manipulation I would use to seek power that I now realize should never belong to me, no matter how intensely I craved it as a means of protection.

I could be up front with Tav, but I knew she would urge me to face Cazador with her by my side–always the hero. The promise of power would be too much to turn down, like a shiny hook baiting a fish. Tav’s loyalty and unbreakable need to please me would prove an easy avenue for manipulation–something that would surely end with our inevitable demise. I couldn’t put myself in a position to force her hand, and I absolutely could not put Tav in a position to accept her own dark fate. Her love was the first good thing to happen to me in the centuries since I became a vampire, and it could be undone so easily. I could not let that happen, even if it meant facing Cazador alone.

It was the only way.

“Astarion,” Tav’s sweet voice filters through the tent, breaking me from my thoughts. She pulls back the flap of my tent after a moment and looks at me with caution in her eyes.

“Yes, my dear?” I slip back into my easy facade, knowing full well what needs to be done.

She closes the distance between us, careful not to touch me without permission. Always the astute observer. I smile softly at her, trying to repress the memories of her deadened eyes as they looked at me with resentment. That was not her. It would not be us.

“H-how are you feeling?” She shifts nervously, fully aware that something weighs heavy on my mind.

“Honestly? I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed. Arriving in Baldur’s Gate has stirred some… unpleasant memories.” It wasn’t a complete lie, just an omission of the entire truth.

“I understand,” She whispers carefully, “I’ll always be here when you need me. You won’t face this alone.” Determination fills her eyes and I know she wholeheartedly believes the words she speaks. I do too.

“Thank you, my love,” I whisper after a moment, my words painted with sincere gratitude. I don’t expect her to forgive me for what I’m about to do. But it is the only way I can protect her. I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She gives me the strength to do the right thing.

Tav turns to leave but stops short and looks over her shoulder, “You can feed on me tonight, if you like.” My breath hitches in my throat. My attempt at selflessness falls short as she offers herself so freely to me. I knew it would be selfish of me to accept, knowing that I would vanish from camp while she unknowingly slept. But it could also be my best chance at surviving the encounter with Cazador. Would she forgive me if I made it out alive?

“I-I’ll…okay my dear,” my mask falters momentarily, “I’ll see you tonight. Thank you.” I bow my head with gratitude as she exits the tent.

As I wait for the sun to set, I fill my time with mindless reading around the campfire, searching through various texts that might provide useful information for the fight to come. I sift through a particularly dull tome when something falls from between the pages, fluttering to the ground like a feather being shed from a bird.

For a moment I look at the object, completely bewildered by what lay at my feet. I reach down and pick up the card. The words “The Lovers” are inscribed across the bottom edge. The witch’s tarot card stares back at me as if to taunt me. “What in the nine hells,” I whisper to myself.

“What’s the matter, my heart?” Halsin’s booming voice echoes behind me, and I spin on my heels, quickly tucking the card in my pocket.

“Oh Halsin! My dear, you startled me,” I laugh nervously, “Actually, there’s something I need to confess. I trust you will understand and assist me in this one thing.” Although our relationship is newer, I trusted Halsin with my life, and Tav’s life. I know he will watch over her while I am away–however long that might be. Hopefully not forever.

“Of course,” Halsin’s face softens, “I shall lend you an ear.”

I pull Halsin to my tent discreetly, eyeing Tav across camp as she accompanies Gale while he cooks.

I quickly relay all that the witch showed me, Halsin’s face falling with concern when I deliver the horrid news. A small weight was lifted from my shoulders at the confession.

“That is concerning,” Halsin whispers, “How are you feeling?” he reaches out and caresses my cheek tenderly.

I laugh sarcastically, “Not well, as you might imagine. That is why I need you to watch over Tav while I slip out of camp and face Cazador alone.” The weight of my words causes Halsin to still.

“Astarion,” his voice shaky, “You’re certain this is the only way? What if–” his sentence dies on his lips, too difficult to utter the very words that haunt me as well.

“I have to try,” I whisper after a moment, “Even if it means I won't make it back,” speaking the words aloud suddenly makes them feel real. It was a possibility I would die and Cazador succeeded in completing the ritual. But I was out of options.

“Tav will be devastated,” Halsin’s concerned tone washes over me, only adding to my fears.

“Yes, well,” I laugh nervously, “It is better than the alternative. I am sure you would agree.” I pause before continuing, knowing the next part will be difficult for him to swallow, “She cannot know where I’ve gone–this is important, Halsin. She will follow me, and all of this will be for naught. It’s… for her own good.”

After quiet contemplation Halsin agrees, “ She will not see it that way, Astarion, but I promise to do as you say, my Star. But you must make it back to us. A world without you would be unjust,” his voice breaks. I slip him a folded note and instruct him to give it to Tav once she notices my absence.

I smile and pull him in close, placing a soft kiss on his lips. His arms wrap around me protectively–an unsaid goodbye passes between us. I pull away before I can change my mind.

“Thank you, Halsin. I will not forget what you have done for us,” I nod before exiting the tent. There was nothing left to say.

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✧*̥˚ Tav POV *̥˚✧

I search among our companions for Astarion. He has been particularly aloof this evening and I could not ignore the concern as it flooded through my veins. I knew that arriving on the doorstep of Baldur’s Gate would be difficult for him, but I couldn’t shake this feeling that he was avoiding me. If he wanted his space, I would respectfully take a step back while he sorted through his feelings, but I couldn't help but worry that he was spiraling into a dark void that would be impossible to pull him from. At what point do I step in? I tread a fragile line–one that could potentially cross over into territory that I wished to avoid at all costs if I wanted to carefully respect his boundaries.

Even still, something awful churned in my stomach–a sense of foreboding tugged at the recesses of my mind. I’ve learned to trust my intuitive nature. My life training in the Temple of Bhaal sharpened my instincts into a fine point that rivaled the very daggers we equipped ourselves with. However, even years of honing my mind will not assist in revealing what darkness lingers on the horizon, until it has fallen upon me. It’s blinding disruption, a promise that haunts me. If only it would reveal itself before it’s too late.

I look up to the sky, its domed shape spattered with twinkling stars, heckling me with false hope. If any gods could hear my silent prayers, they showed no sign of acknowledgement. Praying was a trivial pursuit, but it felt right in this moment, even if they went unanswered. I know not what lies ahead, but I knew it was not good.

“Quite the sight,” Astarion whispers from behind me, mirroring the hollow words he once spoke in the first few nights of our meeting. I spin around to find his vermillion eyes watching me with a careful expression, “You, I mean.” He whispers, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

I let out a breathy laugh, relief washing over me as his presence pulls me away from the impending dread that inhabits my body.

He opens his arms invitingly, ushering me into his cool embrace. I gladly comply, welcoming the feel of his body against mine. His arms wrap around my waist and pull me in tight, threatening to never let go.

“I missed you,” I whispered in his ear.

“I haven’t gone anywhere, darling,” he laughs quietly.

“I know. But every moment that I am away from you is more agonizing than the last.” His body stiffens at my truthful words and panic begins to settle in the pit of my stomach. I hope I haven't crossed a line. “Sorry,” I amend quickly, “I just enjoy your company.”

He pulls away, but keeps his arms firmly wrapped around my waist, his smile is soft, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “You know I enjoy your company as well, darling. I fear I wouldn’t survive without it.” There was some underlying meaning to his words, but before I could inquire further, he pulled me in for a kiss.

I lace my fingers through his ivory curls–his touch melting away all the tension that burdened me only a moment before. His kiss steadily grows hungrier, his tongue slipping between my lips as he sought out my own. He sighs against me as our tongues slide against one another.

All too soon he pulls away, planting small kisses along my jaw and down my throat. The reverence laced in his kisses leave small confessions against my flesh.

“I’m going to turn in early tonight, my dear,” he whispers against my skin in between small kisses.

“Alright,” I whisper shakily, “Are you forgoing dinner tonight?”

His lips halt against my throat and he inhales deeply before pulling away and looking into my eyes with a worried expression, as if internally warring with himself.

“I–no,” he whispers after a moment, tearing his gaze away from me with a guilty expression. My deep-seated curiosity takes hold as I watch a wash of emotions cross his face, “I would like that very much.”

“O-okay,” I whisper suspiciously.

Before I can ask what burdens him, he pulls me to my tent and patiently waits for me to lie comfortably on my bedroll. What ensues feels less intimate than usual, and more of a formality. I let my questions die on my lips, chalking up his rigidity to the earlier confession he laid at my feet when I had visited him in his tent. I only wished he were comfortable and happy. He laps eagerly at the blood he pulls from my veins, taking his fill.

Once he was finished, he placed reassuring kisses along the puncture wounds that marked my throat as his. The camp had fallen quiet outside my tent, my companions choosing to rest their weary eyes on this early evening.

“Do you mind if I linger, until you find rest,” Astarion asks, a glimpse of vulnerability flashes across his sharp features.

“I would love nothing more,” I whisper, relieved. I quickly change into my bedclothes, Astarion’s eyes lingering on my form as I slip into something more comfortable.

I slide into my bedroll and Astarion pulls me in close, nuzzling his head into the crook of my shoulder. I wrap my arms tightly around him, lazily running my fingers through his silver curls with one hand and tracing words into the cold flesh of his back with the other, careful not to touch his sensitive scars.

“I could stay like this forever,” I admit into his well-manicured curls, his scent comforting me beyond reprieve.

Astarion lets out a tortured groan and holds me tighter, “Me too,” he finally confesses, “Me too, my love.”

His embrace eventually lulls me into a deep, dreamless slumber. His proximity stirred a deep sense of comfort within me that only reveals itself when he is near.

I did not feel as he carefully slipped into the night.

Beams of sunlight filter through the tent, bathing me in its gilded illumination. I wipe the sleep from my eyes, rolling over reaching out for Astarion. My hand lands on the empty bedroll. I frown, wishing he had stayed through the night.

Something savory wafts through the air and I can hear the sizzle of meat in a pan over the fire. Even as the inviting aroma assaults my senses, something stirs in the morning air. The camp is unusually quiet. By now, I should hear the excited lilt of Karlach’s voice–she was always a morning person. I should hear Gale delighting in telling stories of Waterdeep. I should hear Lae’zel sharpening her weapons, or Shadowheart reprimanding someone for being too reckless during battle. At the very least I should hear Astarion, his voice dripping with disdain at the breakfast we gorge ourselves on each morning, or the playful complaints of our current accommodations–sleeping in the dirt like commoners when there was a perfectly accommodating establishment in the Lower City.

Instead, silence creeps through my tent threatening to swallow me whole. Something stirs in the air, reminiscent of the dread I felt last night before Astarion approached me.

I quickly gather myself before exiting the tent, not even concerned with changing into day clothes. Immediately I see Halsin across camp, whispering to a huddle of companions. Their hushed tones not quite reaching my ears.

“What’s going on,” I immediately felt panic rise in my throat.

All the companions fall silent as they whip their heads towards me. I immediately note Astarion is not among them. But that wasn’t unusual. Their behavior, however, was.

The companions stared at me momentarily before falling into their usual routine ignoring the suspicious glare I sent their way like daggers in their backs.

“Good morning, Tav. You must be famished! Come grab yourself a plate. You look like you need sustenance,” Gale rambles. I watched him carefully but headed towards the fire anyway, the remnants from Astarion’s feeding last night left me feeling light-headed still.

I sit silently as I eat. The companions were careful in my presence, offering me kind words as if to distract me from something. Their diversion was obvious. I leave my food half-finished behind as I stomp towards Halsin. He watches me approach, his face unreadable but his eyes guarded.

“What the hell is going on, Halsin?” I demand, “Why is everyone acting so strangely?” I cock my hip to the side and cross my arms over my chest waiting for an explanation.

“Nothing slips through the cracks with you, my heart,” he laughs. It doesn’t reach his eyes and I know he is hiding something.

“Quit stalling, Halsin,” I snap. My temper was burning on a short fuse this morning, and even though I felt bad for snapping at Halsin, who has done nothing but show kindness and patience towards me, he was obviously keeping something from me.

“Perhaps, we should go to your tent and talk,” he places a large hand on the small of my back, but I whip away from him.

“No. We will talk here. Tell me, what is going on?” The camp falls quiet and alerts me that everyone, aside from me, knows what is happening.

Halsin falters, and I look around the camp searching for something out of place. What has made them so worried?

“Tav,” Halsin whispers with careful explication, “Astarion is gone.”

His words envelope me, and I stare in disbelief as they swirl around in my head. “Gone? What does that mean?”

He sighs and refuses to meet my gaze, “He left.”

Darkness threatens to overtake my vision as his words settle in the pit of my stomach like a stone falling to the bottom of a lake.

I spin on my heels and tear through Astarion’s tent. The emptiness that stares back at me feels like a slap in the face. I feel my breath quicken, threatening to send me into overdrive until I’m hyperventilating.

I storm out of his tent, “Where?” I whisper, my fists involuntarily balling at my sides as I try to control the bubbling anger that threatens to spill over into unbridled rage. All I can see is red.

Halsin walks towards me cautiously, the whole company trailing behind him with worried expressions painted across their faces, “My heart–”

“WHERE?” I yell, all patience evaporates from my body.

Halsin quietly pulls a piece of parchment from his pocket and hands it to me slowly. I snatch it and unfold it, scared of what I might read.

I stared at his elegant handwriting, unable to soak in the words that stared back at me. This tells me nothing other than Astarion was gone. He had intentionally left. But for what purpose?

I fold the note and head to my tent, quickly changing into clothes more suitable for travel. I need to take a walk.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

✧*̥˚ Astarion POV *̥˚✧

I spent the first couple of nights quietly scouting out the Szarr palace, watching as guards came and went. I hadn’t seen any of my brothers and sisters since I arrived at my discreet hiding place. I knew the city like the back of my hand, having spent years watching the city grow even when my purpose had stayed the same.

“Your only purpose is to lure back pretty things for your Master, boy,” Cazador’s words ricochet through my skull, “By any means necessary. Let them use you, gain their trust with your pretty words and face.”

I try to shake the words from my mind, but arriving on his doorstep only heightened the centuries of memories and torment. Long nights chained in the kennels with nothing but dead rats to sate my appetite flit through my mind. The painful bite of the whip as it bit into my flesh. My screams echoing through the palace, feeding the egos of my captors.

Your screams sound the sweetest.

I knew that returning to this godsforsaken place would be a painful reminder of what once was, but it was more difficult to face alone than I had previously planned. I caught myself on several occasions turning my head, thinking Tav was standing next to me–a habit that I had become more than accustomed to.

I try to shake my thoughts from Tav. I cannot imagine how angry she must be with me. If I dwell on it too long, I will abandon all control and run back to her with pleas of forgiveness falling from my lips.

I checked my inventory one last time, having stockpiled supplies, potions, and weapons. I was ready. I slip in, undetected, having done this thousands of times before–but never with murder on my mind.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

✧*̥˚ Tav POV *̥˚✧

The nights were cold and agonizing. I could not sleep. My mind retraced our last day together. Something in Astarion’s demeanor had shifted after he visited the fortune teller. What had the witch said to him? I was almost certain that was the pivotal moment when things changed.

The day had gone by in a blur. I stormed from camp and walked through the streets of Baldur’s Gate, searching for a glimpse of my silver-haired vampire. My urges thrummed in my chest and diabolical whispers filled my ears–my anger igniting their hunger.

I interrogated as many people as I could–barkeeps, guards, and merchants. Some required a knife to the throat to cooperate. I was perpetually having to cool my blood and ignore thoughts of maiming during their interrogation. I scared even myself at times. However, no one had captured a glimpse of Astarion. I shouldn’t be surprised; he had perfected the art of slipping undetected through the city streets for centuries.

By the time I returned to camp empty-handed the first night, I was exhausted. Gale tried to push a plate of food in my hands, but I was too high-strung to eat. Halsin was persistent in checking on me as I lay in my tent while I tried to push down the tears that threatened to spill. I was on the precipice of shattering completely.

Then the anger started to settle in. I numbly traced the puncture wounds that marred my neck. The only evidence that Astarion still existed. I was angry at him for leaving. For drinking from my neck and lying with me in my tent before slipping into the night–never to be seen.

I was angry that he left without a clue as to where he was going. I could not help but wonder if he was going to face Cazador. But it didn’t make sense. He was adamant that he needed my help to face his old master. What would push him to go back? I was not sure I wanted to find out.

The yawning breadth of despair sits like a cavern where my heart once beat with elation in his presence. I was not sure how much longer I could entertain thoughts of him pulled back under Cazador’s control. Images of Astarion’s limp body under the Szarr palace plagued my thoughts. What if he had been captured? What if Cazador had sacrificed him and completed the ritual? But why would Astarion willingly stroll back into his own torment? I knew the answer. He wouldn’t. But the witch–she knew something.

After a restless night pacing through camp, I headed out on my own to the Circus of the Last Days, refusing the company of my companions. The witch would divulge what she knew. She was the only lead I had. I would force it from her if I had to.

My heart sank when I saw her tent was absent. The merchants that had sat on either side of her said she had packed her things and left just the day before. I grip the hilt of my dagger, anger surging through my veins as whispers of murder rang in my ears. I knew I was treading a dangerous path. My anger had become untethered, and my murderous nature boiled just below the surface, yearning to break free.

After long hours of wandering the streets, staking out the Szarr palace, and harassing people in the street, I return yet again empty-handed back to camp.

“My heart,” Halsin pulls me into a hug, brushing the hair from my face, “I know you are worried about him. I am too. But you must take care of yourself. You haven’t slept. You haven’t eaten. You are out all day long. Let me care for you.”

The past two days I had been drowning in my own guilt over the way I had snapped at Halsin. But my anger and determination to find Astarion overpowered any rational thought.

“The thought of living normally… Taking care of myself… feels wrong when he is out there somewhere,” Halsin gently runs his fingers through my tangled hair, trying his best to comfort me. “Why?” I choke, “Why would he leave? I don’t understand.” A tear slips from my eyes, and I can no longer hold back my despair. I cried into Halsin’s shoulder. My sobs echoed through the camp. I didn’t care who witnessed it.

Halsin continues to comfort me. He helps me slip into my night clothes and brushes my hair, ushering me to put something in my stomach. I nibbled on a small piece of Waterdhavian cheese, but it tasted like ash in my mouth. I realize that all the luxuries of life–all the magic that one could find in the small mundane things, such as the taste of food or the vibrant colors of the city, did not matter if Astarion was not there to experience it with me.

Halsin brewed me some tea, promising that it would help me sleep. He offers to stay with me, but I regrettably turn him away, electing to be alone with my thoughts. With my despair.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

✧*̥˚ Astarion POV *̥˚✧

It was surprisingly easy to clear the main floor of Cazador’s palace. I took special pleasure in killing Godey, one of my main tormentors aside from Cazador. His screams echoed against the kennel walls, his empty threats silenced once and for all.

I stood in the middle of the kennels trying to regain my composure. The ghosts that once taunted me in this room had been suddenly silenced. Their whispers effectively cut short. I remove the key to the chapel from the pile of bones that had once been Godey and make my way back to the main floor, cutting through all who stood in my path.

The humans that served Cazador in the hopes that they might one day become his spawn whimper pathetically as I slice through them without a second thought. The nocturnal horde that Cazador had amassed was no match for the centuries of rage that I had unleashed. I wore their blood like a badge of honor. A trophy of my revenge.

But there was only one person whose blood I cared about at this moment–Cazador’s.

I pass through his study until I find the hidden lift that would descend me into hell. I steeled myself, knowing I would come face-to-face with the people whose trust I betrayed. It was one thing to prepare myself to face their inevitable wrath and suffering, but it was entirely different to witness with my own eyes.

Their vermillion glares pierced me from the other side of their gilded cages. I recognized their faces. They did not deserve this. It was all my fault.

Tav’s voice creeps into my mind unbidden, “You had no choice. This isn’t your fault. It’s his.”

I pull the tarot card from my pocket and stare at the letters, deciphering its hidden meaning. The reminder that Tav was back at camp, hoping that I would return to her arms only strengthened my resolve. This card was meant to serve as a reminder. It reminded me of why I was doing this. It wasn’t for me. It was for us.

“I’m going to kill Cazador and free you all,” my voice was full of resolve. My previous targets stared back at me, unmoving. I don’t expect them to trust me. Not until it was done.

The smell of blood and death reverberated through the air, weighing heavy on my thoughts. I felt its influence on my mind as I traversed deeper into the underground chapel. My thoughts no longer felt like my own. The thrum of power hurtled through the air like static electricity, further warping my mind into something else–something I deeply wanted to avoid.

Finally, I reach the large ornate door leading to the ritual site. I could feel the power hitting me in undulating waves, the smell of death threatening to send me into a violent frenzy.

I take a deep breath, touching the pocket that stowed the tarot card. I let thoughts of Tav give me the strength and bravery that I desperately needed. I finally push open the doors.

“Is it true? Has our prodigal son returned?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

✧*̥˚ Tav POV *̥˚✧

Last night was one of the most difficult. I had not been parted from Astarion this long since our first meeting. Memories of his cool hand tracing lines in my skin, the taste of his lips, the intimate moments we shared with only the moon as a witness addled my mind. Halsin’s tea sat untouched in the corner of my tent.

I was scared to sleep–scared of the dreams that would play like a reel in my mind. I wasn’t ready to face those quite yet. A part of me still held out hope that he would return, begging to be held in my arms like the last night we spent together. His cool skin comforted me in ways that no one else could supply. I knew I was chasing false hopes.

How could I surge forward, eager to save the world when mine had just been decimated. Selfish thoughts flitted through my mind, wishing all of Faerun could suffer like I was. The thoughts scared me. They were foreign to me–at least the new me. I felt the thorny tendrils of my past life gripping me tightly, seeping through my veins like the poison of a viper. The lonely Bhaalspawn I once was lingering behind the threshold, threatening to break the fragile barrier that I had worked so hard to build.

Astarion made me realize that all she had needed was love–a tender touch. Something to care for. But that had been ripped from my grasp, and the shattered girl I once was slowly began to reveal herself once again.

The camp was active, but I was too depressed to leave my bed. I knew that if I continued to tear apart the city looking for evidence that Astarion still existed would turn up nothing. He had vanished, just as quickly as he had come.

My eyelids are heavy with exhaustion. My limbs ache from lack of sleep and food. My eyes close against my will, and I fall into a dark slumber filled with dreams of Astarion.

A commotion in camp wakes me from my sleep, images of Baldur’s Gate flooded with blood and viscera rescind from behind my eyes as I try to take hold of my surroundings.

Outside, I hear urgent voices. Shadowheart is yelling out a list of potions and ingredients for healing, “Astarion, stay with us.”

All the lingering effects of sleep drain from my body when I hear his name. I scramble out of my tent, tripping over my own feet. I look up to find Astarion collapsed on the outskirts of our camp, bloodied and bruised.

A strangled cry escapes my lips as I run towards him. No. no. Don’t die.

I’m hovering over Astarion, clasping his hand in mine. His labored breathing is shallow and painful.

“Astarion,” I cry, choking on my own sobs.

His eyes open slowly, and he squeezes my hand weakly, “D-darling. I-I’m terribly sorry,” he sputters before his eyes fall closed again and his arm goes limp.

“Shadowheart,” I cry, panic rising in my throat.

“Let me work,” she murmurs, casting restoration and healing spells, her hands working methodically.

Halsin wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me away. I fight against him, thrashing violently, “No,” I scream.

“Let her work, Tav, she can heal him,” I hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“LET. ME. GO.” I scream, maneuvering out of his grip and falling to my knees beside Astarion. Halsin paces behind me, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to stay calm for my sake. But I can tell he is just as concerned.

“Astarion, please,” I whimper, running a hand through his hair, ignoring the blood that paints his curls red and pink, “Stay with me. Don’t… Don’t leave me again.”

Shadowheart works throughout the day, patching up any visible wounds and casting spell after spell. Finally, as the sun begins to slip from the sky, she announces that he will be fine. But he has fallen into a deep rest so that his body has time to heal.

I don’t leave his side for three days, counting his breaths and wiping the sweat that dampens his brow. I whisper encouraging words to him when others aren’t around, coaxing him to wake up. All of my anger was abandoned and forgotten. Halsin stayed with us as much as he could, only leaving to eat and sleep.

The third night, Halsin exits the tent to catch up on sleep. The bags under his eyes grow heavier with each passing day. He forces tea into my hands, practically begging me to sleep. I promise that I will try. I give him a soft kiss and whisper apologies for my decorum these past few days. I felt like an awful partner. Halsin waves off my concerns, showing nothing but understanding and kindness. He knew what Astarion meant to me.

I curl up next to Astarion, careful not to touch his wounds. It looked like he had suffered quite a bit. I saw the healing scars of knife wounds. Some looked like he had been stabbed while others were large gashes that marred his body. Even still, large bite marks and burns were scabbing over, only just staring to heal. My thoughts turn over in my head, wondering where he had gone. I felt deep down I already knew the answer.

I gulp down Halsin’s tea and close my eyes, listening to Astarion’s rhythmic breathing until I finally fall asleep.

I’m not sure how long I was out before I felt him stirring next to me. I hear a grunt as cool arms snake around my waist and pull me close. My eyes spring open and I am met with the most beautiful sight I could pray for.

Astarion’s vermillion eyes stare back at me, something haunting lingers behind them.

“Astarion,” I jump. A mixture of surprise and excitement touches my voice.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, pulling me back to his body, “I-I’m so sorry, darling.”

I watch him as sadness and relief surface in his features. “I have so much to tell you.”

I nuzzle my head into his chest, tears spilling from my eyes, “You need to rest, Astarion,” I say choking back my sobs, “Reserve your energy, please,” I beg, “You can explain later.” I mesh my body with his, not wanting to ever be parted from him again.

He chuckles lightly beside me, his quiet laughter rumbling in his chest. He painfully leans forward to plant a kiss on my head.

“This cannot wait, darling,” he murmurs through painful breaths.

I lift my head to meet his loving gaze.

“Tav–I. I’ve had a lot of time to think. But the only thoughts that occupy my mind are thoughts of you,” he pauses to catch his breath, “You have taken hold of my heart–my soul. There is nothing–nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I–I love you,” he breathes, “and I do not want a future if it does not include you.”

He slowly and painfully pulls a card from the pockets of his bloodied discarded trousers. “You gave me the strength to save myself. I will never forget it.”

I take the card from him and study its blood splattered image. The words The Lovers stare back at me, promising a future that I yearned for more than anything.

“I love you too Astarion,” I breathe after a moment, cradling myself against his body once again, “Don’t ever leave me like that again,” I whisper into his skin, inhaling his familiar scent.

“I promise,” he whispers before falling back into a deep sleep. His breathing slows to a steady rhythm.

And for a moment, I swear I could hear the soft beating of his heart.

#astarion #bg3 #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #f!reader x astarion #Astarion x f!durge #Astarion x Durge #Astarion x Female Durge #Astarion x Dark urge #Astarion x Female Dark Urge #astarion ancunin #f!durge x Astarion #Astarion x f!durge x Halsin #Astarion x Tav x Halsin

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dark-and-kawaii · 11 months ago

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༺ 𝒩𝑜 𝐻𝑜𝓅𝑒 ༻

Ascended Astarion x F!Tav/Reader | Raphael x F.Tav/Reader

Summary/Request: A Tragic Ending. Deep down, you knew Raphael would never come to your rescue. You had even called out to Haarlep at times, but the knowledge that they were both gone and would never reveal themselves weighed heavily upon you. All hope had been extinguished, leaving you utterly empty.

⋆˙⟡♡ This was chilling in my box for a hot minute and I apologize for it taking forever!!! Also apologies because I accidentally deleted the ask when trying to edit this *cries*

⋆˙⟡♡ NSFW | Heavy Angst | Lactation | NonCon | Poor Raphael

( Prt 1. ) - ( Prt 2. )

Chained to the bed, Astarion slinks towards you, an ominous smile playing on his lips, "Isn't it amusing how fate works, my love?" he whispers, his voice entwined with a combination of sadistic glee and twisted pleasure. You attempt to utter a plea, but your throat is raw and inflamed from the screams that tore through it only an hour ago.

Despite the torment and anguish you've endured, you're astounded that Raphael's child continues to grow within you, defying all odds. The stress should have shattered you, driving you to the brink of a miscarriage, but somehow your body has held on.

Astarion lies down beside you, his pale hand gently caressing the swell of your stomach. "Who would have thought that the child of a devil could create such a delectable feast, especially when blended with your own blood?" he muses, his tongue flicking over your nipple and tracing the scars from his previous onslaughts, "Yours is the only blood I crave, the only one I had missed while you were away." Astarion's mouth opens wide, his sharp fangs glistening in the dim light.

"Please, Astarion... I-i can't…N-no more..." you stammer, your voice filled with desperation.

"Ah, ah," he interrupts, a cruel glint in his eyes. "I've given you ample time to rest, haven't I? And remember, if I were to push you beyond your limits, I can always bring you back as my personal spawn."

Astarion hungrily sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of your breast, his mouth engulfing your nipple as his fangs pierce your delicate skin. The searing pain courses through your body, causing you to recoil in agony. Your back arches involuntarily as a guttural scream escapes your lips, echoing through the room. Tears stream down your face, blending with the sweat that clings to your skin.

As Astarion continues to feast upon your flesh, your blood trickles down your breast, forming a sinuous trail of crimson. The thin rivulets intermingle with the milky white droplets of your breast milk. His eyes catch sight of your beautiful mixture of liquids, and in mere seconds you can feel how his cock hardens from it as he continues to drink from your abused breast.

With each agonizing moment, you wished for the darkness to engulf you, pulling you into death's cold embrace, refusing to let Astarion bring you back to the realm of the living. Your vision blurred, and in the haze, Raphael's name echoed relentlessly in your mind.

Astarion persists in his sadistic ministrations, his other hand mercilessly tormenting your neglected nipple, twisting and pinching it. Your mouth hangs open, devoid of the capacity to scream. Instead, a feeble whisper escapes your lips, "Raphael..."

Deep down, you knew he would never come to your rescue. You had even called out to Haarlep at times, but the knowledge that they were both gone and would never reveal themselves weighed heavily upon you. All hope had been extinguished, leaving you utterly empty.

Astarion withdraws his head, forcefully tugging at your breast with his teeth and fangs, coaxing one final stream of milk into his ravenous mouth. Your head thrashes violently from side to side, your eyes squeezed shut, a feeble attempt to escape the tormenting reality.

"Call out! Cry out to the devil!" Astarion's laughter fills the room. "Let him hear your desperate pleas, echoing through the depths of Cania. He watches, you know? Bound and chained in his father's palace, witnessing his - my precious pet quivering beneath me." Astarion's depravity becomes evident, his words unveiling a twisted game he plays alongside Mephistopheles. They have ensured that Raphael survives, trapped in a punishment more agonizing than death itself.

"His father thought it a splendid idea, especially since he's been such a naughty son." Astarion licks his milky blood-stained fangs, chuckling as he witnesses the realization dawn upon you. Your lips quiver, tears flowing ceaselessly, as the cruel truth takes hold. You gasp for air, suffocating like a deprived fish out of water.

No crown, no little mouse, no heir, no domain… Raphael would witness his failed ambitions every waking moment, forced to listen to your daily wails, your pleas for Astarion to kill you and his half devil heir that continued to grow within you…

And the cruelest twist of all was how Astarion exploited your unborn child, Raphael's child, as a source of sustenance, using their existence to further his twisted enjoyment.

When the time comes and you are ready to bring life into this world, Astarion will take your child at a fine age and turn them into one of his spawn in front of Raphael…

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #tav #raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #Astarion #ascended astarion #astarion x tav #ascended astarion x tav #tw.dark content #tw.noncon #dark content #tw noncon #bg3 smut

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beanzwrites · 1 year ago

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୨⎯ "𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 & 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭" ⎯୧

✎ Made: March 17th, 2024

🎙️Hello, I'm Beanz! I'm a writer with a busy brain! I daydream a lot, and I'll most likely write those daydreams into stories! All my fanfictions on this page are gender-neutral unless stated otherwise!

If you also like fanfiction unrelated to x reader, please consider checking out my other works on here too! I also post about my ocs and projects I'm working on! I'm hoping to start being more consistent, so stay tuned! 📻

🎷Also, I have a community server, where anyone and everyone can show off their works! Whether you are a writer, artist, or have any other creative hobbies, we welcome you to join!

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〣Upcoming Pieces〣

The Stag and The Heron (Human! Alastor x Reader): Chapter Two

TeyU (A Genshin College Au)

〣Ongoing Pieces〣

The Stag and The Heron (Human! Alastor x Reader):

(Y/n), forced to be confined by societal standards, wishes for someone to understand them. Everywhere they look, it seems as though the people they once knew have abandoned them. It's not until they are introduced to a well-known radio host that they realize their true potential.

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What I like:

⤷Supernatural

⤷Genshin Impact

⤷Resident Evil

⤷Creepypasta

⤷Hazbin Hotel

⤷Baldur's Gate 3

Here's what I can do:

⤷Fluff & Angst

⤷Platonic & Romance

⤷Child Reader/Teen Reader

⤷Gender Neutral Reader/Female Reader

⤷Head cannons & Blurbs

Requests are open!(0/3)✅

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〣Genshin Masterlist〣

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〣Supernatural Masterlist〣

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❛Miscellaneous Oneshots❜

Chris McLean x Reader

“Get over yourself, McLean” - Chris McLean x reader: You and Chris used to be a thing, and despite the hurt he caused you; work is work. You aren't going to hide away just because of him.

Chris being a man baby head cannons

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“Nice to meet you, Thomas” - Leatherface x Female! Reader: An AU where the Hewitt's are a normal family working in their worn down-town for a living. The reader's family moves in next store, wanting a new life for themselves and be friendly with the neighbors.

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Present Silence - Clockwork x Reader: Clockwork visits an old friend and is reminded of her past.

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The Comfort of a Partner - Leon Kennedy (Infinite Darkness) x Reader: Leon's partner subtly comforts him in the only way they know how.

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Humble Til Death - Ascended Astarion x Vampire! Reader: The war between vampires and humans has begun, and every duke and spawn a like look to the Vampire Ascendant to help in battle. As they discuss what needs to be transpired, a stranger outcasted by both sides joins the discussion with a humble approach, which catches Lord Ancunin's attention.

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Party For One - Vox x Idol! Reader: (Y/n) was once an overlord, dominating the music industry with their talent and the souls they captured along the way. Then Vox came into their life and stole their heart with his big dreams. Everything was great for the lovers at first, then Vox wanted to team up with other overlords for more power. Vox became obsessed over his work, and with also looking out for the other Vee's, (Y/n) begins to realize that maybe they were never part of Vox's plans. They decide that it is time to start again and leave Vox behind.

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❛Miscellaneous Series❜

The Stag & The Heron: Human! Alastor x Reader

Prologue - (Y/n), forced to be confined by societal standards, wishes for someone to understand them. Everywhere they look, it seems as though the people they once knew have abandoned them. It's not until they are introduced to a well-known radio host that they realize their true potential. Chapter One - Alastor offers (Y/n) a job, and though they are hesitant, they accept.

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❛Y/n Meets Resident Evil❜

Chris Redfield: Himbo Friend Edition Jill Valentine: Wife Edition Albert Wesker: Dad- OH

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〣 If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask! My work is intended for entertainment purposes only. Please do not repost anything without my permission. Thank you! 〣

Last Updated: May 7th, 2024 ✎

#fanfiction #supernatural x reader #genshin impact x reader #creepypasta x reader #resident evil x reader #chris mclean x reader #slashers x reader #bg3 x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

53 notes · View notes

inquisitornocturn · 5 months ago

Text

⊱─ 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕣𝕠𝕒𝕕𝕤 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕕 ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Cazador Szarr x f!tiefling reader the Dark Urge

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - E, POV second person, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, canon-typical violence (when it comes to Cazador that is), graphic depictions of violence, sadism, smut, inappropriate use of Mage Hand spell, non-con, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, asphyxiation, grinding on a boot (sort of), dubcon, painful injury, tongue wound, bleeding, hair pulling, humiliation, degradation kink, PiV, rough sex, vampire bites, blood drinking, creampie.

➺ 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: A former Bhaalspawn, now aimless, you wander Faerun until you get a letter from no other than Cazador Szarr, beckoning for you to visit him. You're not sure why, he's not the man to show gratitude even if you did give him Astarion and helped him Ascend, nor he is the one to suddenly feel grateful years later after the fact, but you feel a pull to learn why the Vampire Ascendant wants you back in Baldur's Gate. So you return, too arrogant to realize that you're walking into a dragon's den.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 11,225

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: This was written for the wonderful, supportive and always amazing @velvolktra. Thank you for being just an incredible human being, and for matching my freak lol♡~

Baldur’s Gate.

Disgusting little city that you poured energy in saving. And what for? For these peasants to stroll the streets, smile and laugh with no gratitude? Hero of the City, ptui, maybe they would get some actual semblance of real gratitude if they built a temple for you instead of this meager statue.

You look at it with your face upturned, eyes squinting in the sun and the gentle late spring breeze in your hair. You see the visage of you, actually quite closely resembling your image, carved out of stone with precision. Your unblinking eyes gazing over the city and onto the sea, your hand victoriously raised in a fist, your expression made to be determined but still gentle, your other hand holds a banner of Baldur’s Gate. You nearly spit at the feet of the statue from annoyance, the pigeons lingering on your stone horns only irritate you further.

For a moment you wonder how often the city servants have to scrub the statue to make it look so clean even years after the big battle, but you don’t linger on this as you gaze down the statue’s form, despising even the armor they carved upon your body. You don’t remember much of your past, but you do remember everything since you woke up in that damn squid ship, and you know for a fact you never wore armor.

Maybe you should go and talk to the current Duke, demand that they change the statue if they want to have one displayed for you in the first place. Maybe, but not now. You’re here for a reason and that reason is not to bicker with people who are below you, who should be groveling at your feet, but instead barely recognize you as they pass you while you’re standing right in front of the idol erected in your honor.

When you finally peel your scrutinizing gaze away from the monument, you look around, doing your best to ignore the people that seem to be crawling the park like pests. You’re close now, to the Palace Szarr, but you’re in no rush. It’s enough already that you came at all after receiving the letter.

You have it with you, in your small travel bag hanging off your shoulder, and you pause digging through it. The paper stained and bent after being shoved among other items for weeks, but when you open the envelope and pull out the letter itself, the elegant yet sharp lettering is still as black as the day it was penned down, telling you to come for a visit. Telling you to witness the fruits of your subordinance.

At first you didn’t even consider coming back. You have no reason to visit Baldur’s Gate again, not after you saved the damned city only to save yourself, and especially not after you rejected your murderous daddy before he stripped you of your powers in retaliation. Withers, that dusty corpse, revived you when Bhaal took your life along with your abilities, spouting something about destinies and doing good.

Doing good. You smirk at the thought of the memory, because you don’t think you have done a single relatively good thing since you left the Sword Coast.

Still, the letter found you and so did your memories of Cazador Szarr, the man who seemed to be a better ally than most. At least he kept his end of the deal after you brought his sweet wayward son back and watched him explode into a cloud of blood mist and gore the moment Vampire Lord closed his fingers around his prize – the Ascension. You were only mildly angry with him for not showing up at the final battle, but the minions he sent to aid you were enough, obviously, otherwise you would not be standing here today, basking in the sun in the middle of a freshly rebuilt Gate.

You stuff the letter into the envelope and that you shove back into your bag, rising your eyes to the greenery around you and pushing a lose strand of hair out of your eyes that the soft wind blew there. You’re not quite sure why you decided to heed letter’s invitation and return, you left because there was nothing for you here, because you wanted to see what’s out there. Between the lost memories of being stuck in the Temple of Bhaal and present memories of fighting your way through enemies to get rid of the damn worm that was lodged in your brain – you realized you didn’t actually see anything in your life before, for however long you lived it. So you picked up what was left of your belongings after Orin’s reign in the Temple, and left.

For years you traveled all around Faerûn, trying to find something, that purpose that you can’t quite grasp even now. Some strange yearning is gripping your heart and you try to find something to alleviate the discomfort that’s firmly lodged in the middle of your chest, but so far you haven’t found what it is. The cure evades you, whatever it is.

With a deep sigh you begin walking, knowing full well where the palace is so you head there, navigating among people, making sure no idiot manages to snatch or step on your tail. You haven’t seen another tiefling since your arrival and while nobody is exactly staring at you, even despite your fame and legacy, you still doubt that these people are accustomed to avoiding sensitive limbs that they themselves never had to experience.

One thing you notice as you make your way towards the main entrance of Cazador’s home, is that the city seems to be full of life. Not only with spring bringing nature back to full bloom, but with people. You see races of all kinds, children running around and goods being sold by traveling vendors. There are bard songs in the air and laughter. There’s music and countless smiles. It looks like since the partial destruction of the city and your departure the population grew. You smile to yourself, imagining how the vampire coven must be thriving with so many veins to bleed.

You pass a stall and grab an apple from it with your tail when the man selling them doesn’t pay attention, then grip it with your fingers firmly and bite into it, chewing as you look around, noticing all the changes that have been made since you set your foot in these streets years ago. You have to admit, Baldur’s Gate is growing and becoming… well, maybe not nicer, it’s still a slum in your opinion, but cleaner. You can give the city at least this kind of compliment.

By the time you arrive at the main Szarr gate you get rid of the apple and now look upon the palace that you entered only couple of times before. First to negotiate with Cazador, then to bring wonderfully clueless Astarion back to his master and then once more, after the final battle was done, to finalize the deal you two have made. You parted ways quite cordially and the Vampire Lord did tell you that you can come visit, saying how he would not turn away one woman who actually knows how to get a job done. But disgruntled that he still saw you no more than his servant you never came back, instead leaving Baldur’s Gate entirely.

But now you are back.

Standing in front of the gate of Cazador’s home.

If not for your curiosity to know why he wants you here, and you doubt that he went through the trouble of finding you just to tell you to come by and witness his glory, you would not have bothered. Well, that’s at least what you tell yourself. Despite your pride and your ego, your heart did leap in your chest when you saw who exactly signed off the letter.

But he still better have a very good reason to make you drag yourself back. That’s what you tell yourself when you push open the gate and approach the door, knocking on it. It only takes a moment before it is opened and you see a spawn, her red glowing eyes studying your face for a moment before she lets you in, staying in the shadows as the sun threatens to touch her.

When you walk inside you look around. Before there were heavy curtains everywhere, covering the windows and preventing any chance of sunlight possibly sneaking inside like a silent assassin, but now the place is bright and full of light. Everything looks spotless and golden décor glints softly in the sun’s rays. For the first time you realize – it’s beautiful here.

“Please follow me.” The female spawn shuts the door behind you and scurries in front of you, avoiding to look at your face. It puzzles you, but only for a moment, because you have to start walking and keep up with the woman who seems to be in utter hurry to deliver you to her master.

You don’t mind, in fact you’re growing more impatient with every step, and while you do appreciate the paintings that adorn the walls depicting scenes of nightmares as you pass, enjoying the tasteful horror of them, it’s still no use in lying to yourself – you are dying to know why you’re here. And you can’t guess the answer even with the help of changes that you see. Just like Baldur’s Gate, the palace also changed. Maybe not in how it’s furbished, but in the number of servants you see. Some of them even wear same clothes, showing their status as official part of the Szarr family, however lowly that status may be.

When you’re led to the massive door that opens up to the ballroom, you are not surprised to see it filled with sunshine either. Neither you are surprised to see Cazador himself in his throne-like chair, listening to a man tell him something in hushed whispers. After you enter the room, the man stops and the woman that led you here bows deeply to her master and without another word walks off.

Briefly you glance in her direction, perplexed by such behavior, but you turn back to Cazador and see him wave the man away. When he passes you after bowing as well, you notice his glowing eyes. Another spawn. Looks like the Vampire Lord quickly grew his coven since sacrificing thousands of them for more power.

“So you have come.” He says, not exactly a greeting but you don’t mind.

“You wanted me to come. Care to explain why I’m here?” you ask with irritation clear in your voice as you approach the few stairs that elevate his seat above the ballroom floor. When you’re closer you see Cazador’s relaxed body language, his arrogant smirk and eyes, narrowed, as his gaze inspects you from head to toe.

“You haven’t changed much.” Every word coming out of his mouth sounds like mockery and your frown deepens at that.

“I’m not exactly out there looking to get my eyes plucked out.” You snap back, making vampire rise his eyebrows in feigned surprise.

“Really? And here I thought that without protection of your father you’d soon end up in a ditch somewhere.” He taunts and you ball your fingers into fists, trying to keep your temper in check, but your tail betrays you as it swishes behind you in couple clearly annoyed movements. “Now, now, no need for your attitude, Bhaalspawn.”

“I’m not a Bhaalspawn anymore.” You immediately shoot back and Cazador chuckles, rising from his chair and for a moment you are taken aback by his height and the imposing stature that could cast a shadow over you like your worst nightmare if he chose to become one.

“No? What are we if not children of our fathers?” Szarr asks and takes one step, then another, heading towards you. “You may be free of his urges, but you will never be free of his legacy.” He grins as he speaks and you’re not sure if he is trying to anger you on purpose or is this what he truly thinks. But you do remember his speeches about family, you remember how he insisted that those he had doomed from the moment of creation are his children.

Maybe he’s not wrong.

“I didn’t come all the way here to talk about Bhaal.” You cross arms on your chest and tap your foot impatiently. His eyes give you a dangerous look for a split second before he stops in front of you with an eyebrow raised and arrogance etched in every pore of his face.

“Then maybe we should talk about how deliciously treacherous you are even to those who consider you a friend?”

For a moment - memories of countless betrayals flood your mind as if you’re flipping through a book written in sin, but then it quickly dawns on you.

“Astarion?” you rise your eyebrows, forgetting your annoyance for the time being and Cazador’s head bobs in a taunting gesture.

“Have you forgotten about the boy so quickly?” he asks and you roll your eyes now.

“Why would I remember him?”

Cazador only laughs in response and begins walking again.

“Come.” Is the only thing he says and confused you follow him with your eyes only before your legs start moving.

“What about him?” you can help but wonder while you trail Cazador, but the vampire seems not to care to answer your questions, only irritating you more. “Did you want me here just to talk about Astarion?” you try again, growing impatient with each step, not really caring to notice where he is leading you – to his study, the door that Astarion himself told you no spawn were ever allowed to pass, except this time the door is ajar with cold invitation.

“Shut up for a moment, you idiot girl!” Cazador snaps back at you and you grit your teeth.

“I just want an answer.” You reply and that makes Szarr stop and spin to you, his eyes narrow this time not from amusement but from anger.

“Stop your yapping before you regret it.” He threatens like you’re one of his servants and stares straight into your eyes that are defiant and furious, but for reason unknown even to yourself – you remain silent. “Better.” Cazador doesn’t seem to be actually pleased, his temper was always easy to provoke, and it’s clear you nearly did just that so maybe that’s why you instinctively obeyed. After all, Cazador is the Vampire Ascendant, who knows what he can do besides walking in the sun’s rays, which you confirmed for yourself when you watched him pass the windows just moments ago.

Couple seconds tick by as he looks you in the eyes, waiting for you to defy him again, but when that doesn’t come - his lips twitch in an emerging snarl that he manages to control in time, then turns from you again and passes the doorway. Wordlessly he gestures for you to get onto the dais and you pause, your eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“What’s down there?” you ask, not putting even a single toe on the platform just yet, and you hear Cazador push air through his nose, then he turns to you with a dangerous smile on his lips.

“You’ve been there before, you know what’s down there.”

“What I’m going to see there?” you ask again and Cazador waves his hand at you dismissively.

“I don’t remember you being so scared before.” He mocks with that same grin and you frown.

“I’m not scared, I’m being cautious. I haven’t forgotten what you are.”

“No, of course not. Now stop acting like a child and come.” He instructs with his voice clearly strained in attempt to be patient and you hesitate for a moment longer, then step onto the platform, keeping your distance from Cazador.

The moment you’re on it, the dais begins to move, lowering you and Cazador down. You look at him in a moment of silence, eyeing his expensive looking clothes, the doublet he’s wearing, the embroidery on it. Rats, like the ones on the massive steel door in front of the ballroom.

With a couple of lurches the dais finally comes to a stop and you look down the corridor that hasn’t changed even a bit since the day you brought Astarion back to Cazador. Betrayal, he says, but you don’t see it that way, you never did. You just did what you needed to do to gain a powerful ally so that you could get rid of the damned tadpole. Sure, you gambled, maybe Cazador could’ve changed his mind and killed you with Astarion, but no, he kept his end of the bargain and not only let you go, but also helped you out. Maybe he was wary of Bhaal still in your veins, maybe letting you go after the battle was over and you no longer carried the corrupted divine within you, was done not out of mercy or good will, but because he simply didn’t want to bother. You wonder if the vampire would answer if you asked him. You doubt it.

With the dais nestled in its landing spot, Cazador begins walking, his hands clasp behind his back as he strolls with pride towards the stairs that you know lead to the ritual chamber. Your head swivels as you inspect the dungeon, but you don’t see any change whatsoever and the door that you know once led to Cazador’s private room, the one with Vellioth’s skull with which you had a pleasant chat, is closed with magic once again.

“Are you preparing for another ritual?” you can’t help but ask, feeling slightly awkward in silence that is only filled with yours and his footsteps, but as you now pass the empty cages scrubbed clean from blood, you realize that even if he is, it’s not the same one as the Rite of Profane Ascension.

Of course, why would it be.

“In a way.” Cazador’s reply is cryptic and his tone of voice drips with sarcasm. It puzzles you and you look at him for a moment before you have to watch your feet as you both begin to descend the steps.

The vampire doesn’t pause, just keeps leading you downwards. At one moment you have to duck as a swarm of bats fly right over your head but avoid the master himself, and when you are finally at the bottom of the stairs you see a familiar view – the ritual platform with his coffin still there. But Cazador doesn’t stop, he leads you forwards and you follow him, noticing the blood flowing beneath the golden grates, flowing towards direction of his coffin and giving it an eerie sanguine glow from below.

Your mouth opens, you want to ask another question, but finally the Vampire Lord stops right in the middle of the ritual circle. When you stop as well, you still see the infernal runes etched into the stone, now cold and still, unlike how they glowed when Cazador let you witness the birth of the Vampire Ascendant. It was a sight to behold, you have to give him that, the one you quite enjoyed as well. You always liked the smell of blood and that day the air was thick with it, as seven thousand and seven souls got sent straight to the hells.

All to make him a vampire unlike history has ever seen.

“Do you remember, Bhaalspawn, the moment of my Ascension?” Cazador asks and your eyes snap from the floor to his back. You see that his face is upturned and you glace upwards too, seeing the ceiling of the cavern. When your eyes land on the back his head, he spreads his arms as if reliving the greatest moment of his life. “Do you remember how he screamed before he died? How all of them screamed?”

You smile, of course you remember. You step closer to Cazador, sensing that he’s about to tell you the reason why you’re here.

“I do. It was beautiful. Magnificent.” You exhale at the memory, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment, your smile becoming wider. You remember clearly because you looked Astarion straight in the eyes as he screamed, as his body began to deform and as he eventually exploded, becoming nothing but a pile of guts on the ground by the end of it.

“You did me a favor then.” Cazador’s voice snaps you out of your memory and you open your eyes to find him now facing you, his look is curious because he most likely saw the ecstatic expression on your face and he most likely suspects what kind of memory brought that kind of expression about.

“It was beneficial for both of us. I got a powerful ally for the battle, you got to Ascend.” You give him a small shrug, trying to sound like it’s no big deal for you. And in truth – it wasn’t. You don’t have a single regret about giving Astarion away, because by the time you arrived to the city, the pale elf was beginning to get on your nerves, begging to be gutted somewhere on the side of the road.

“Maybe so, but not many would betray their allies, their friends.” Cazador tilts his head slightly to the side, a satisfied smirk on his lips and his hands by his sides – a perfect image of a non-threatening man, but you know better. Despite Astarion’s shortcomings you believe his stories about his master’s cruelty and short temper.

“He wasn’t a friend.” You correct Cazador and he raises an eyebrow at your words. “He was an ally of convenience. When that convenience came to an end – I made a new ally.” You now gesture to Cazador and he chuckles, a low, menacing sound that makes a shiver run down your spine and you’re not sure if out of caution or… something else.

“Delightful.” Szarr comments, his fangs looking as sharp as ever when he smiles or speaks, and you wonder how it would feel to be a vampire. You’ve been a Bhaalspawn already, surely being a vampire can’t be worse, but maybe under Cazador’s heavy boot – it can be. “Still, it’s rare to find… allies worth having, especially nowadays. And to find such ally in no other than a hero of Baldur’s Gate was a twist not even I have expected.”

“I’m a hero to peasants and idiots. I only did it to save myself.” You respond and surprisingly this makes Cazador laugh. It’s a slow, arrogant laugh, coming deep from his chest, and you find yourself blushing slightly because you don’t think you said anything funny.

“Isn’t that right.” He says and offers you his hand. You look at it, hesitating, not taking it. “Do you know how hard it is to find useful allies?” Cazador asks and the way he keeps using the word ‘allies’ makes you feel like he’s taunting you again for saying it earlier, but you ignore it. “And how much harder it is to find spawn who are worthy of serving?”

What?

Your eyes snap to Cazador’s face and the grin now looks less arrogant and more dangerous. Your mind begins to reel, putting the puzzle pieces together as he keeps talking, now making one careful step towards you, then another, a predator in action.

“One thing I overlooked the last time I saw you, was the influence you could have if I only had you at my disposal. Your word could sway even the Duke, I’m sure of it.”

Unknowingly you begin stepping backwards, your heart racing in your chest and your eyes widening the longer Cazador speaks.

“You want me to speak to the Duke?” you ask because you hope that it’s all he wants, but the unwavering grin on vampire’s face immediately tells you that’s not the whole truth.

“Yes. As my spawn.”

Immediately your eyes narrow. Fight or flight - you choose the former. You always do.

Your knees bend in preparation for a leap, your claws ready to slash and rip, and you jump towards Cazador, seeing his face, aiming for his throat. You denied Bhaal, you won’t be enslaved by another demi-god wannabe.

But the moment your feet leave the stone underneath as you vault yourself at your sudden enemy, he makes just one step forward and with a single strike with the side of his clenched fist he brings you down, your back slamming onto the ground with a thud that pushes air out of your lungs.

You attempt to scramble to your feet before you feel a kick to the side and you cry out from pain.

“I knew you would fight, that’s why I didn’t proceed to turn you up there. You can make such a mess from what I have heard.” Cazador ridicules you and with a huff you try to get up again but another kick to the same side takes your breath away once more, especially so because this time the kick is strong enough to make your body rise in the air and turn, landing you on your stomach.

You hear his laughter, cruel and cold, while you get to your hands and knees, trying to crawl away now. Fear, something you have long forgotten, begins to grip at your chest. Fear that you’re not leaving this dungeon alive.

But before you can get any further, your chest slams into the hard stone again as Cazador pushes you down with his boot on your back, sharp heel of it digging painfully into your spine and you wince.

“Let me go!” you shout, your voice disappearing into the air without even an echo, and the vampire just chuckles, the weight of his boot increasing as he leans down. You gasp when you feel him grab one horn and yank your head back so that he can look you in the face.

“Oh Bhaalspawn, you have no power to fight me.” Cazador jeers with sly boasting in his every word. “Although I don’t think you would be able to fight me even if you were still your father’s rabid lapdog.” He chuckles and pulls harder on your horn, making your spine bend in an arch that makes your muscles tremble from pain.

“Stop!” you cry out now, desperate to be released and your tail moves as if on its own, wrapping around his wrist that holds your horn, but with other hand he quickly grabs it and yanks on it so hard you hear an unpleasant crunch.

You yell at the sensation, tears gathering in your eyes and you wait for worse to come, maybe Cazador really breaking your tail, but he suddenly releases both and you collapse onto the floor panting and sweating, your body screaming at you with pain that radiates through every tendon.

“Stop.” You beg this time, your eyes heavy lidded as you try to recover and a trail of saliva leaks out of the corner of your mouth because you can’t seem to close it, still gasping for air.

“No, not yet. I need you to realize something.” Cazador’s boot lifts from your back but you can’t move, not yet, you need couple seconds more, maybe then you have another fighting chance against the monster that so easily lured you down here.

“What?” you ask, hoping that if you have him talking - he won’t be as vigilant about your possible attempt at escape.

“That I prefer my spawn obedient.”

Before you can truly realize what’s going on, you hear fabric rip and only a moment later you comprehend that it’s your dress that is being ripped. You rise your head, quickly lifting yourself on your hands and look back in horrified awe as you watch three mage hands tear your clothes away. Even your bag gets tossed aside and skids nearly off the edge of the platform.

“You bastard!” You shout and get to your knees, trying to stand up but one of the mage hands moves quickly and pushes your chest down to the floor just like Cazador’s boot did before.

Instead of words, an arrogant chuckle first reaches your ears as you make a sound of angry frustration, your claws scraping at the stone as you try to lift yourself and simply can’t. Your hips in the air provide an easy angle for the magical limbs to remove last of your clothing. Before Cazador speaks you feel even your shoes being dragged off your feet, leaving you completely and utterly naked in front of him.

“You will learn to address me appropriately, but I’ll ignore it this once.” He says like it’s a mercy he’s granting you and you clench your teeth for a moment. Your face is burning with shame at being exposed like this and your tail tries to swat the other two mage hands that are holding your hips in place and in the air.

Suddenly your tail gets caught and by the cold touch you can tell it’s Cazador himself that has snatched it again. Then he yanks it upwards, making the base of it bend painfully once more. You cry out from the sensation, trying to scramble away or at least alleviate the suffering in your vertebrae, but you can’t, the spectral hands are holding you better than chains would.

“Wet already? I suspected someone like you might enjoy pain.” Cazador mocks and you freeze, your eyes widening with horror. He can’t be right, can he?

And yet when you feel his finger a sharp point of his nail trace along your slit you know he didn’t lie, you feel your arousal being smeared on your skin and you blush heavily. Partially from anger and partially because you feel the unwelcome sensation of desire beginning to burn below your stomach.

“It means nothing!” You shoot back with your teeth clenching immediately after you finish your sentence, because Vampire Lord starts inserting one digit into your cunt. You whine because slow penetration of his sharp nail feels dangerous, too close to real damage for it to be comfortable and sensual, he would just need to curl his finger and you would bleed.

“Nothing? I think it means everything. Lost without your father, an aimless daughter, wandering the land with no purpose. I’ll give you that purpose.” Cazador’s tone loses the mocking undertones because they get replaced with strange possessiveness.

His finger proceeds to embed itself in your body to the knuckle and you grind your jaw with both fury and fear. Fury because he has you at his mercy, fear because you know he’s a master at inflicting pain, more pain than you know you could handle. “But first you need to be shown that you ought to serve.”

The finger moves in your cunt slowly, one thrust, two, three, then Cazador pulls it out and your body relaxes. You didn’t even notice until now how firmly you were clenching around his digit, as if in hopes to prevent him from harming you. But your tail gets released too and you move it down, to try and cover yourself at least in this small, insignificant way, wrapping the end of it around your own leg in a way to comfort yourself.

But then you hear footsteps as Cazador walks around you in just three of them. At first you only see his shoes and pants, then your horn gets gripped again, your head yanked backwards and your nails try to cling to slippery, polished stone to no avail. And then your eyes meet the crimson gaze of his, you see the ever-present smirk on his face and you grimace from pain when the vampire makes your neck arch uncomfortably.

“Open your mouth.” He commands and you pause for a second, your eyes widening again for a brief moment before you frown even more. You press your lips together and now see Cazador’s own frown spelling danger as he glares at you. “I said open. Don’t make this difficult.”

You don’t listen, you don’t want to listen, you don’t have to listen. Even if you are aroused that doesn’t mean you will obey his every command, that’s not who you are and he should know better. As you glare back at him, still with one magical hand pressing your chest painfully to the ground, you barely pay attention to other two such hands. One keeps your hips up, but second one moves without you noticing, and then it makes you cry out. You feel ghostly fingers, two of them, thrust themselves into your cunt and then another one – right into your other hole.

You cry out and thus you open your mouth. With a sly grin Cazador shoves a finger into your maw, rubbing it against your tongue and you immediately taste yourself. His eyes gleam with conceit the moment realization comes to you and you flush harder, you simply can’t help it. The spectral hand begins to thrust its fingers into your holes and you mewl because the vampire makes you suck on his own digit. Maybe instinctively, maybe because you really want this, you do as he wishes, wrapping your lips around his finger and swirling your forked tongue, cleaning his skin from remnants of yourself.

“Perhaps you will be a fast learner.” Cazador muses as if to himself, watching you suck on his finger like it’s your newfound religion. “We shall see.”

You turn your gaze away from him and try not to moan, your throat swallowing the saliva that’s quickly pooling in your mouth around his finger. It’s hard keep quiet and your tail wraps around your leg tighter in a reminder to not give in, but you can barely hold on as is. Something about how Cazador is treating you is making every muscle in your body uncoil and every nerve in your brain dull from desire. The ghostly fingers work your holes and you shiver, feeling moisture dripping down your inner thigh from your body submitting itself to the pleasure despite your mind commanding it not to.

Suddenly Cazador pulls his finger from between your lips and you gasp, instinctively following it with your mouth but how he’s gripping your horn prevents you from moving more than an inch. He scoffs, as if judging you for your eagerness, and releases your horn, letting your chin drop to the cold floor, then straightens his back. Vampire’s eyes flick to the side of you and you moan when the spectral fingers retreat, leaving your body with a sensation of emptiness. Realization of just how much you enjoyed this torment crashes on you like a wave and you blush like you haven’t in your life before.

“So this is your plan? To fuck me into submission?” you ask, still unable to look at him, and Cazador scoffs again, but this time louder and with surprise you feel the mage hands releasing you.

With shaky arms you begin to push yourself upwards, seeing Vampire Lord’s shoes still in front of you before you rise your eyes.

“That’s enough of a plan for a feral animal such as yourself.” His words cut you deeply and you grit your teeth, slowly getting on all fours because your strained muscles scream from tension even when you unwrap your tail from around your own thigh.

“How dare you-“ your words get stuck in your throat when a hand appears in front of you and grips your neck with such speed that you barely see it.

Your eyes widen and you gasp couple times for air, unable to inhale, feeling how the magical hand pulls you by your neck upwards, making you kneel. Your fingers shoot to your throat, trying to grasp at the ghostly hand that is utilized not unlike a collar in this moment, but then the other two grab your wrists and bend your arms with no regard for your pain. You grunt with frustration and effort to fight them, but to no avail, soon your hands are pinned to the small of your back and you snarl at Cazador, who’s smug expression is beginning to drive you crazy.

When you’re finally wrangled into position he obviously envisioned for you, the grip on your throat relents and you inhale deeply, nearly beginning to cough, greedily sucking air into your lungs because you don’t know if you will be forbidden it again.

“Down.” Cazador commands and you narrow your eyes at him, your lips parted and your teeth clenched so hard you can hear them near squeak from pressure.

“Caz-“

“DOWN, YOU DOG!” He suddenly bellows and you immediately sit, your naked rear pressing firmly to the stone, it sends a shiver through your body because of how cold it feels against your skin.

But the most terrifying thing is Cazador’s face. Full of fury, full of power. Your eyes widen because you sense something terrifying about him now, like a power that his body starts exuding because his emotions burst through. He waits for a moment longer, waiting for you to protest or talk back, but when you remain silent, with your heart beating fast in your chest and your entire body otherwise frozen in the moment, he lifts his arm and with a palm slicks back his hair. Couple of strands escaped his neat appearance when he shouted at you and he clearly will not allow this.

“If you act like a mongrel – I will treat you as such. Did Astarion tell you nothing?” he asks with irritation not disguised in his tone but he smirks again, composing himself once more and steps closer.

You keep watching his face with your breathing quick and shallow, your eyes trying to find any signs that might tell you if he’s about to show you rage again. You’re so focused on it that you don’t pay attention to how close Cazador is getting, his form towering over you and casting a shadow like an ominous sign. You want to tell him that you don’t understand why he’s doing it, but you do, you understand perfectly, because the chill that begins to seep into your bones from the stone floor make the realization abundantly clear to you.

Then the spectral hand around your throat tightens once again and you’re about to make a noise, to complain, maybe even bargain but before you can get one syllable out, you feel Cazador’s shoe between your legs, the nose of his boot pressing against your slit, smearing itself in your arousal and when you gasp in shock, the nose moves and rubs against your clit, pressing and rubbing against it too strong to be pure pleasure, but it’s pleasure nonetheless.

You press your lips into a thin line, embarrassed that this is enough to make you shiver with need and you look away from Cazador, turning your eyes to the side from his face and then flinch when he presses the boot against your sensitive nub harder, making you gasp.

“What do you want?” you ask, flicking you gaze back to your tormentor and Cazador grins widely, his eyes narrowing from genuineness of his expression.

“I want you to beg.”

The answer is simple but it takes a moment for you to process it. In your silence Cazador rubs his boot against your folds again and you cast your gaze down, shivering in response, watching black leather smear with your wetness. Cazador’s fingers grip your jaw, making you once again look up at him and he can see your heavy-lidded gaze. Despite your protests and defiance, your body and mind are succumbing to him, you know this too. With dread you realize that everything within screams to submit just as he wishes.

“You will beg, Bhaalspawn. And then I shall grant you one last mercy.” Vampire Lord speaks in half a whisper, his sharp nails digging into your skin.

“Mercy?” you ask because you can’t help yourself even though you suspect the answer already.

But Cazador doesn’t answer, he just grins at you.

“Open.” He commands like he did just earlier and you hesitate for a moment but slowly part your lips for him. Last time he shouted, this time he might not be as lenient in his displeasure. “Good, girl, good. You’re beginning to learn faster than I anticipated.” It’s not a compliment, not a praise, not really, more like small encouragement for you to keep obeying him or else.

While still holding your jaw, Cazador uses his other hand to raise it to your face, index finger extended, and then he puts it in your mouth. You wait, unsure what to expect when it presses your tongue down and you keep looking him in the eyes, seeing that sinister satisfaction spell danger. And then pain comes.

Vampire’s finger curls and you whine when his nail pierces your tongue, almost pinning it to the bottom of your mouth. You tremble but don’t move, frozen from sudden shock and agony that envelops your orifice in full. Blood quickly pools around your tongue and his finger, warm and coppery, and you feel it begin dripping down your chin, maybe it’s dripping down his hand too, you can’t see, your eyes now locked on the man in front of you.

Yet without a word he yanks his hand away like he’s suddenly disgusted by you, his grip leaving your jaw as well and you watch him straighten his back and look at his bloody hand just before you dip your head down and spit the blood on the floor with a painful shiver. Your tongue feels both throbbing from agony and numb at the same time, but when you glance at Cazador again, you watch him silently as he sticks out his own tongue and drags a bloody finger against it, satisfaction clouding his gaze for just a moment. Godsdamn vampire.

When his eyes flick to you they narrow, and you are not sure what to expect now, maybe more pain as you swallow the next mouthful of blood instead of spitting it out, but then his eyes sweep over your naked form and stop at the bottom. His shoe, still pressed between your legs, remain there for a second longer, then he pulls it back.

“Clean it.” He demands and with your head swimming from pain, you take another second to comprehend his words. In your confusion you don’t see his still bloody hand raise, you don’t register as he first swings it back, then towards you.

When his slick from crimson palm connects with your cheek you cry out, your head snapping to the side with force, your hair spilling over your face and more blood drip past your lips. Before you can gather your bearings, your hair is gripped, your head is pulled back, most of the hair falls away but some stick to bloody skin of your face and you gasp once, your swimming vision trying to anchor itself on something but before even that can happen, Cazador’s lips crash against yours.

You can barely understand what’s going on, but you feel him kiss you, the action more punishing than passionate, but you’re not sure of anything anymore. You whine at the back of your throat when his tongue enters through your parted lips and laps at the blood coating the inside of your mouth. The spectral hands tighten around you as if to make sure you don’t move even an inch without Cazador’s permission and you tremble, your body responding to the kiss on its own, your forked tongue caressing his and you hear him hum as if in approval or maybe it’s his own desire stirring at last.

Vampire Lord’s face then leans away from you, his eyes studying your face, the blood smeared on your cheek and chin and dripping down your neck. Your lips smeared in life’s ichor, just as his are, and he releases your jaw, his back straightening again.

“I said clean it.” Cazador repeats the command and your gaze follows his when it drops down, to the smeared leather of his shoe.

You glance up at him again, then down again, and feel the mage hand on your throat finally release you, bruised spots where the spectral fingers held throbbing with sore relief. You begin to bend down, the other two mage hands letting you do so even though they remain holding your wrists behind your back. You try to move your knees, position yourself so that you don’t drop face-first onto the marble the moment you get lower, and with the help of your tail you succeed.

The boot is right in front of your face now and you pause, swallowing heavily and still tasting blood when you do so, but you hang your wounded tongue out and begin using it, cleaning the shoe where you see moistness of your cunt dirtying his expensive footwear. Again you taste yourself, but this time leather too, and you make sure that everything is clean before you stop. When you do – you finally feel the remaining two mage hands disappear and you immediately move your hands, pressing your palms against the cold stone underneath you, as you feel your wrists throb in pain too.

“Good.” Cazador hums again, the boot disappears from your field of vision and you’re sure he’s inspecting your handiwork for a moment before he proceeds with a new way to make you submit. And while everything in you is telling you to do as he pleases, it will hurt less, it will be less degrading, but there’s still a part of you, the Bhaalspawn part that Cazador himself spoke to you about in a room just above, in the ballroom.

That part wants to put a fight, to try and escape, to run from him and to return later to kill him, if that’s even possible to someone like you, without dark powers of your father protecting you and making you a formidable enemy in battle. That matters none right now, details can be figured out later, first you just need to escape.

Slowly you rise yourself on your hands and look up at Cazador, watching him watch you, his gaze completely unreadable but the little smirk, as always tugging at his lips, tells you that he’s not done with you, not even close.

But then opportunity presents itself. The vampire turns his back to you, walking to his coffin for a brief moment and you quickly look around, seeing your discarded clothes tossed about the ritual platform, and you decide that you don’t care if you run naked. Silently and carefully you being to turn your body to the staircase that leads up to the dais, to your salvation. With a corner of your eye you keep watch on Cazador as he does something, you’re not sure what, his back covering whatever his hands are doing, but the moment comes when you have to focus on your plan and you look at the grand stair, wondering if you can be faster than a Vampire Ascendant or not.

You frown, ignoring the pain in your knees and wrists, ignoring the throbbing of your tongue and already swollen from the hit cheek, ignoring the humiliation that makes your insides clench from both anger and secret desire that you don’t want to acknowledge even to yourself, not yet at least, but you begin to rise from your hands and knees, preparing to sprint the moment your feet touch the ground, your tail taunt like an arrow.

The second you begin to rise, one knee still on the ground, you feel cold fingers wrap around your throat from behind, pulling your body backwards until your spine presses against Cazador’s chest. A small breath against your ear as your face becomes a mask of shock and fear, you didn’t even hear him get closer.

“Where do you think you’re going, disobedient pup?” he mocks and his nails dig into your skin, piercing it, making you wince.

Your hands fly to your throat, grasping at his fingers and wrist but failing to really get a grip, scratching his skin and leaving marks. You hear Cazador hiss with disapproval against your ear and then his fingers release you.

Immediately you scramble forwards but not for longer than a second before you feel your horns being gripped and pulled at. You have no choice but to clamber after the movement, trying to keep up, before you feel yourself being pulled off the ground. You yell in pain and terror, your fingers trying to make Cazador release his grasp on you, your tail swishing wildly, looking for something to hold onto when weight of your own body begins to pull you down, giving a feeling like your horns are being ripped out of your head. Tears gather in your eyes and spill down your face, leaving clean streaks on the blood-smeared skin. You see the promise of escape, the many steps that you took just to come here, for a moment longer, before your whole body is spun and flung.

You find yourself flying through the air for a split second before you crash to the ground with a painful thud and skid slightly, your talons wildly grasping at the floor until you come to a stop. Panting, you lift your head and see the looming shape of Cazador’s coffin facing you. You whine when you try to get up, your body now feeling bruised and sore all over, your skull throbbing around the horns, and you choke out a sob, finally and fully realizing that there’s no escape for you, not from him, not from Cazador Szarr.

This time you hear him walking closer, his boots sounding heavier than the weight of all the sins you have committed, and you look back at him, real terror reflected in your eyes as you see his smile that promises no salvation.

“Stop.” You beg this time, your lips tremble, your whole body is shaking and tears keep spilling down your face, running down your neck and to your chest. You’re unable to move even if you wish to, petrified when the weight of the situation finally catches up with you.

“You’ll have to do better than this.” Cazador taunts, he’s right behind you now and you expect more pain. A kick, a hit, maybe this time a broken bone, a ripped-out horn, mangled flesh.

But instead you see him kneel with one knee behind you, as if you’re a wounded dog he’s approaching with caution, but you remain frozen, still on all fours, not sure what he wants from you now.

“Come.” He offers you his hand and your eyes flick to it, then his eyes, trying to read vampire’s intentions, trying to understand what he wants to do to you now, but no answer comes. His expression looks almost kind, deceivingly so. “Come, I said.” Cazador’s tone grows harsher and you know by now that you have only a second to obey.

So you obey. You turn on all fours, not unlike the wounded dog he sees in you at this moment, and glance at his extended hand again, but before you can move closer and take it, Cazador moves and sits on the ground, splaying his legs, one hand behind him, palm pressed to the stone for support, and his other hand, now instead of being offered to you, waves at you, invitingly.

“Come.” A third command, empty of any tone indication and you get closer, crawling to him with fear in your heart and blood drumming in your ears. At least your tears stopped, for now.

You hesitate as you get close, but Cazador’s eyes remain unreadable while he pats his thigh as if you’re a pet. You obey again. By now you know that you have no choice.

“Turn around.” He mutters to you almost softly when you begin to search for a position to sit between his legs and you follow this command as well, turning around even though your sore body does not want to easily listen. Everything hurts but with resignation you sit.

The moment you do, you feel Cazador’s palms on your shoulders, pulling your back against his chest, then one arm wraps around your waist.

“Do you see it?” he asks and you look in front of you, seeing his stone coffin rise above you both, like a monument to vampire’s immortality.

“Yes.” You whisper after you swallow a lump in your throat. Talking hurts, your tongue is still radiating with pain, but you try your best as you sit on the ground, leaning against Cazador’s chest, your hands in your lap and your thighs pressed together for that last bit of dignity you pretend still having.

Sitting like this with him is not uncomfortable. You smell blood and a hint of decay, something you became familiar with when hanging around Astarion, but with Cazador this smell has become alluring. Despite your pain you grow aroused again, this time the fire in your abdomen is so hot it feels like it’s searing your skin from the inside. You press your thighs tighter but that doesn’t go unnoticed by the vampire. He doesn’t continue the thought he had, instead moving his head to look at your legs.

“Open them.” He says and you try not to obey, but your body listens even before your mind succumbs and you part your legs, smelling your arousal, seeing it glisten on your inner thighs and you hear Cazador scoff. “You’re easier than I thought, besides your rebellious streak that I will beat out of you sooner or later.”

He hums against your ear and his hand leaves your shoulder, his fingers now landing on your stomach, gently tracing down, and you almost squirm because you want him to touch you. Thoughts of danger swim in your head but you shove them away, not now, not again, and your own fingers grip the flesh of your thighs as Cazador’s hand slips lower, over your pubic bone and then-

The moment his fingers slip to your clit you exhale with pleasure, your eyelids drooping from the sensation that your body gets overwhelmed with.

“Do you like it?” the vampire suddenly asks against your ear the moment you lean your head back against his chest and you shiver.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

You don’t reply but his fingers compel you as they begin to massage and circle your clit. He plays with your folds for a moment, your wetness making his strokes easier, slicker. He traces your slit and then rubs your pleasantly throbbing nub again, making your legs quiver and your tail wrap around his shin. You don’t see how his eyebrows rise at this, but even if you did you wouldn’t care.

“Yes, master.” You finally succumb and you see the coffin in front of you, wondering for a briefest of moments if you will get one of your own.

“That’s a good girl. You learn fast. I knew you were a right choice, I just needed to break you.” Cazador chuckles against your cheek, the tone of his laugh menacing and arrogant, but even that you now find alluring, sensual in its own way.

Sweat begins to bead your skin, slipping down the ridges of your tiefling body and you tremble again. Cazador is better at this than you would’ve assumed, your pleasure is building fast, moving like a slippery snake inside of you as his fingers work you to your pleasure deliberately and precisely. Then you have an urge to see him, to see the man who so easily made you submit, and you move your head, your eyes finally finding vampire’s face and notice that his expression is calmer and less malicious, his eyelids heavy as he gives you a glance that washes over you like a sea of crimson.

No words get exchanged, no permission is given, but you move, twisting your body so that you can swiftly move one hand to the back of his neck and lean Cazador’s face to you only for you to capture his lips in a kiss. He doesn’t resist and doesn’t stop you, kissing you back in a slightly reserved manner at first, but then giving in. His tongue grazes over your sharp teeth the moment you part your lips, and you do the same, exploring his fangs, knowing that soon they will mark you as his forevermore.

Cazador’s fingers toy with your cunt, but then falter, you feel his own arousal, his hardness press between your back and him, and you can’t help but want it, need it even, to feel it, maybe you always wanted him, maybe you at last give in to the desire you carried within you from the moment you saw him. Maybe you hoped for this the moment you offered to give him his spawn back.

Maybe it’s finally coming true.

Unexpectedly now, Cazador moves his hand from your waist and pushes you forward, making you slip over the smooth stone from him. His fingers leave your drenched cunt and you whine with despair, trying to turn to him, to try to kiss him again, but when you glimpse at his hands, you see that the Vampire Lord is now fumbling with his clothes, his hard cock quickly emerging from the fabrics he’s wearing and you swallow at the sight like you’re an animal in heat. A promise of pleasure instead of pain, you want it, you need it.

Cazador’s hand tugs at your waist again, your back pressing to his chest once more, and you whine with no shame, expressing your temporary disappointment.

“Take it.” He commands, the words being the permission and a guarantee you are craving for.

It takes only a moment for you to plant your feet to the floor and your palms on Cazador’s thighs as you lift yourself. His arm around your waist helps you lift yourself even higher and when you look down you see his hard length ready to impale you. You bite your lower lip and watch vampire’s other hand grip the base of his cock, ready for you to take it in. So you do, lowering yourself upon it as if you were made for this moment and this moment alone.

When you feel his soft tip nudge at your entrance and then slip inside with ease - you moan, your body trembling in delightful response. You keep sinking upon his cock, letting it enter you, letting it stretch you, and you moan louder the deeper you insert him into yourself. Finally, when you take him in full, you sigh loudly.

“Such a needy whore.” Cazador taunts but you don’t care, you begin to move.

It’s difficult to ride him like this but you try your best, making sure that your feet won’t slip and even put one of them on his thigh for better support. You gasp every time you are impaled again, but seems Cazador is impatient with your clumsy attempt to find a good position, because you hear him grunt, something between annoyance and pleasure of his own, and then his arm wrap under your other thigh, the one still on the ground, while his free hand grips over the inner thigh of your propped up leg.

“Incompetent, even in this.” Vampire grunts and begins to move you, making your body rise and fall so much faster and so much harder. You hurry to find purchase with your hands but the only thing you can do is twist them just enough so that you can weakly grab onto his shoulders behind you.

Your moans become louder and at first you look at the imposing coffin in front of you, but then lower your gaze to watch yourself getting fucked, his cock glistening with your arousal, leaking down his balls that swing every time you are brought down upon his length. You moan and shudder, your eyes locked on the sight, and your tail is still squeezing his thigh as he uses you to pleasure himself. Cazador’s grunts are like a most wonderful song against the side of your face, and you let your eyes close as you begin to feel your climax approaching.

Just as you begin to grasp at the strands of your bliss, your body beginning to tighten in Cazador’s grip, he suddenly pushes you off, making you fall chest first onto the ground. You gasp, confused and shocked, and your mind is bleary from pleasure still radiating through your body that’s begging for it to be prolonged. You only glance behind your shoulder to watch Cazador get up, hold his pants with one hand and with other he grabs your hair, yanking you upwards until you somehow manage to find your feet planted onto the floor.

“Cazador-“ you start, forgetting that he wants you to call different now, and you pay the price for your transgression as you are marched some steps forward and the side of your face gets slammed against the rough stone of his coffin. It feels like your bone cracks from the impact and you cry out, but then moan when Cazador plunges his cock into your cunt again.

“You will address me appropriately, girl.” He grunts right against your ear, his height so imposing that he needs to crane his head down to do that.

“Yes, master!” You cry out enthusiastically, your body shivering when he begins to plow into you with no concern for your pain.

His thrusts are rough, demanding and relentless as he fucks you against his coffin, your chest pressed painfully against the stone, your skin scraping against the sharp edges of it, making you bleed, but you feel none of this. Consumed by your lust, you grip onto the side of the coffin and hold on as if for dear life as he pounds into you. Cazador holds you down by your hair but his other hand comes into your view when he presses it palm-first onto the surface next to your face, his nails scratching at the rough texture of it.

You hear him pant and grunt as if he’s performing a task and not chasing his pleasure, maybe in his mind it’s both, but you don’t stop to think about it, in fact you don’t think at all, letting your body succumb to the pleasure while your tail once more wraps around his leg.

“Say it again.” Cazador demands and you have to wet your lips with your sore tongue before you are able to answer him.

“Yes, master!” you cry out again, your mind begins to swim as your climax approaches you and you cry out loudly with his every thrust, feeling your spine arch and bend as your body prepares you for pleasure.

“Never forget this.” Vampire Lord hisses and his grip in your hair tightens before you suddenly shout the moment his fangs pierce your neck.

In a moment you hear him swallow a mouthful of your blood and then he moans against your skin, his thrusts becoming erratic, but the coldness of his cock doesn’t stop you from realizing that he began to spill himself deep inside of you. You wail from both pleasure and pain, then feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as your climax takes you, making you shudder and spasm as Cazador’s slowing thrusts help you ride out your pleasure to the fullest.

When he finally stops, you are left trembling, with your knees weak, your body sore and your head dizzy. And then the pain returns, the one in your neck, so sharp and so overwhelming, that it nearly erases any traces of pleasure you just felt. Tears gather in your eyes once more and you whine as if begging for him to be gentler, and it’s like Cazador understands.

He leans his head back, releasing your throat from his bite, and then leans to the side to look at your face. You see his smug expression and blood painting his lips. Without a warning he releases you, pulling you back and roughly turning you around, harshly gripping your throat so that you don’t crumple to the floor at his feet. Cazador smirks as he watches your sweaty, bruised and bloody face, and you can feel the coldness of his seed beginning to leak down your inner thigh, a mark you haven’t expected from him but do not find it unwelcome.

“Maybe I’ll keep you alive for a little while longer.” Vampire’s gaze sweeps over your form, some sort of idea obviously just occurred to him, and you wonder what he means before he presses a palm to your lower stomach. “Maybe you can serve in a different way first, before I turn you into a spawn.” He muses and it takes you a moment or two until you realize what he means.

You try to speak but he finally releases your throat and you fall to the ground with a gasp. When you lift your head to him, your hair spilling around your face and your eyes still betraying your dazed state, he suddenly leans over you and caresses your cheek with a grin, his thumb smearing your tears over your swollen skin.

“Even cattle have their uses.”

With that his touch leaves you and you watch him button up his pants, then straighten out his shirt, not giving even a glance in your direction.

“I advise you don’t try to run, girl. There’s no escape for you anymore.” He chuckles and turns on his heel, then stops for a moment. “Get back upstairs when you can walk, ask someone to show you where you will be staying from this point on. I’ll call for you when I want to see your face again.” Cazador’s words are curt, cutting and insulting at the same time, and you flush as you watch him slick back his hair with one palm. He’s waiting for something.

“Thank you, master.” You whisper with your throat dry and your tongue painfully swollen, but you hear him exhale, satisfied with your response, then he walks off, climbing the stairs and leaving you behind, his footsteps not leaving even an echo in the vast cave surrounding you.

Exhausted, in pain and yet trembling from pleasure at the same time, you remain sitting on the floor, trying to understand what happened, how it happened and why. But before long, the chill of the stone begins to seep into your bones and you get up, gathering your scattered clothes and putting them on slowly, carefully, being mindful of your aching body.

And you smile.

You can’t help smiling widely, like you never smiled before. You better hurry up and find where you will be staying from this point on. Excitement clutches at your chest as you begin to climb the same stairs Cazador used just earlier.

Maybe this is the purpose you were looking for all along. To belong to someone. Maybe you don’t know any other life, but it’s not that you mind this. What happened was everything you ever wanted and more. And so much more still awaits in the future.

You feel excited.

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